So here I wait. In an unknown cafe in Ruddington. Steaming mug of coffee in front of me. 30 minutes to go before, I go in front of a complete stranger for 10 minutes and pour my heart out to him, about my mental state after the accident. 10 minutes to discuss, how my job has changed...how my music has changed...and how my feelings about life have been altered? 10 minutes, so he can write to my solicitor...to give his opinion about my life. Maybe I should go in with two pencils up my nose ...my pants on my head..muttering wibble...like black adder. But know, I will hide a lot, just like I do in real life. Permanently on stage, only letting the mask down in front of friends. Money won't change a thing. Neither will this guy's opinion. I am me. Scarred and scared...but pride of the Army keeps me strong.
I think many of us put on a mask and it doesn't mean we're phonies, we love our friends as usual. The only thing that keeps me going is the thought of Shirley, not how it will be in the future but how it was. That's all I need when I need help or comfort. She's my shadow psychologist.
ReplyDeleteNothing wrong with that my friend
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