I'm Diseased.

It seems to creep around. The Holidays. And they are the same every year. Well the past three have been anyway.

I suffer from a syndrome people have diagnosed as Singledom. I have been carrying the disease for 3 years and each Christmas I tell myself the next year will be different. I will be better. It never changes. This lingering cold is worse then the tap nose of winter. It aches more than the pains of flu in the back. Not even chemo cures Singledom.

Christmas parties are awkward. You plus one. Can I invite Best Friend without looking like a lesbo? (A state I have often considered joining, unfortunatly my bat doesn't swing that way).

So this year, I suffer in silence again. The extended family visit, and ask what is new. Do they really want to hear about me finishing my degree and working full time? Or about how the aspirational career that no one believes I'll achieve is still a pipeline dream? Or about the number of African children I am currently sponsoring? No, they only want to hear that there is someone on the scene. It makes people feel more comfortable. Like single people truly do have a disease.

Next year I'm avoiding Christmas all together and going to NYC!

about. me.

and now here is my secret,

a very simple secret;

it is only with the heart that one can see rightly,

what is essential is invisible to the eye

welcome to the sacred. the secret. the me know else will ever really know.

perhaps one day, when i am in love, these little secrets will be revealed. or maybe not. some are just to juicy.

thank you for stopping by and reading. it means a lot to me. i'm sure we all understand that as writers, when people read your work, you feel validated. you feel purposeful. so drop me a line, and i promise to pop into your blog, maybe we can become bloggosphere friends.

i'm a person on display. people know my name. and because of that, they think they know me. i am a leader in my community, i am recognised in the supermarket. some days i hide on a secret beach, with a floppy hat, and feel a little self conscious that i am topless, i never know who i will see.

my life as a teenager was wild. now, as a 20-something, i live less adventurous and promiscuous. i don't miss it. much. sometimes i long for the freedom that not caring brings. i plan to relive some of my more shameful events here.

i live sensibly in reality, but in fantasy and behind closed doors, it is not so.

one of my lecturers once asked me
who do you want to be?

and the insensible me responded
the girl who causes others to live less responsibly. less inhabited. who lives on the edge and breaks all the rules.