I've had a bit of a downward turn since Michael's departure on Saturday.

I couldn't even be bothered to see them to the airport, so great is my fear of falling to tears in a public place. Also, in not going I avoided feelings that would surely have overwhelmed me.

I spent Saturday in bed... sleeping, crying, sighing, and staring at the wall concentrating on feeling as numb as humanly possible.

Sunday evening I got pathetically pissed on a load of bacardi rum, mixed with anything liquid I could find. I drank the second bottle straight.

This morning I was spectacularly sick. Of course this is not much of a surprise.

It was something to occupy the time.

If I am a son to be ashamed of then I shall make it worth his while. I shall be despicable, useless and pathetic. If my current behaviour is any indication of things to come, it will be quite easy.

My mother came to my bedside and spoke to me this afternoon (when I woke up the second time). She is worried, as she would be. She asked me to go for a walk with her and I obliged. She tried to talk to me about how I'm feeling. After the first five minutes of her 'little speech' I asked if we might walk in silence the remainder of the way. We did.

Safely home, I returned to bed and sleep.

It is tea time now. I can smell food but I am not hungry at all. I shall linger a while online and then I suppose it is back to crying, sighing, staring and eventually sleeping... if I am lucky.

CRBG