What to do when the loneliness becomes normal? When missing someone becomes a part of the everyday schedule and getting a long with things is easier each time?

Long pauses become longer, filled with the fear that this is forever… That when it’s all over and life returns to an apparent sense of normality these pauses, that were never present before or if they were slipped by un-noticed in a comfortable sense of familiarity, will be omnipresent….

Finally a deep sigh or a soft laugh will break the solitude of the conversation. A day of waiting will be abruptly interrupted with an unexpected gesture. Or just maybe a smile holding hands with a memory will break the day.

These are the moments that make the waiting worth while…

Shiny red truck…

As I was driving today I found my mind wander to the what ifs, I did not intentionally go there… No one intentionally thinks about it.

I saw a large articulated truck slam through the car as I watched on, briefly as I went through a set of lights I could vividly imagine the screeching of the brakes as one monster crumbles under the weight of the other and scatters everything inside.

I look on and see the destruction, the mid matched debris matches up nicely with the feelings deep in the pit of my stomach. I consider my loved ones, they will be devastated surely. They’ll get on with it, one step at a time. Tears at the funeral, first month without me- packing my stuff away and moving into my space.
They will think about me often, they are good people and that is what good people do.
One day they will find themselves forgetting to include me in the daily count and from then it will get easier and easier.
My significant other will be crushed, I know that… As I look on I can feel it. But like the others it won’t take much to continue life.
The others will all regale each other of stories of “the olden days”, the crazy things we have done in the past and the memories they will cherish forever, they will ignore the more recent past- drifting away from each other inevitably leaving people and memories behind, saved in a vale in our memories until such an occasion.


I have begun this piece directly after my last rambling a of a lunatic… As I picked up my phone to write the previous entry, I had no idea what was in my head. I could hardly see I had been crying (well heaving) that heavily, and I thought nothing would ever make it stop.
I have purposely held back from writing over the past few months, wondering what I had to moan about when so many others in the world suffered with so much more. In my eyes I have suffered greatly in the past two months, though thankfully everyone is alive and well I have battled with I internal and external demons… I thought if I only wrote for myself and not for the world to see if be alright but of course I never got around to it.
Going through the last conversation (with myself), I can see myself outside, looking down as a frantically type nonsense as it reaches my brain… I see myself line by line becoming more and more calm…
I can’t be sure whether it was the time and distraction from events that originally upset me lead to this more calm state of mind. Or whether it has been a realisation that once I can sort my thoughts (my ducks so to speak) out in a line, no matter what happens I will always be (marginally) ok.

Problems with problem sharing

As the phone was about to hang up I could feel the inner restraint from shouting, “don’t hang up, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean it… I’m just tired” and the usual myriad if excuse I pass off until the next time.
Of course I left it at a polite “go **** yourself” and as I heard that familiar beep of the ending call the heaving began. I assume that is what a distressed polar bear would sound like, only thinking of this made it worse.
I remained sobbing and heaving for some time, Andrea Bocelli singing about goodbyes like white noise in the distance.
A scramble for my drawer, if only I could write something down it would feel like like a tonne of sharp heavy objects had crushed me from the inside out. Of course the notebook I have kept empty beside my bed for the past 8 or 9 years was removed in the last clear out- when am I ever going to need that, lesson learnt there I think!
I have been trying to refrain from using my phone or computer for writing, nr like I write often… But I have found the attitude toward sharing ones problems to be a negative process as of late.
I know from personally attempting to point out the bright side of situation countless times I am too a culprit. However recently I have just wanted someone to respond with “that’s crap, lets do something totally unrelated and fun” rather than “oh it could be worse” or “it’s going to get better”… I tell myself that a couple 100times a day, I don’t need you repeating me.
Though at least those mean well, the other side if the problem sharing coin I ave recently encountered is those who simply are not listening and merely divilulging their very trivial (ok maybe not for them) issues more loudly over your seemingly troublesome worries. Ok, maybe the colour of their hair is more important than your familial breakup… Or their significant other only texting them “a bit” everyday is damning in comparison to your insanely complicated 3way relationship with the army…
Recently I have experienced a parallel to the problem sharing problem, the good news! I was fortunate admit the madness of my life to receive very good news, upon excitedly telling a friend through text I was given a less than delighted response…
So why is it that we surround ourselves with those who don’t listen? Those who offer no sympathy and the support of a 90year olds bra? Even more so those who can’t be happy with or for us?
Whether I’m a glutton for punishment or need to be needed, I need a “me” from time to time also. Hopefully one day that will be more than my random notebooks lying around or an online blog!

Yuletide dreams crushed

I have been avoiding writing over the past few months, I catch myself thinking maybe I should just try throw a few lines out there and see how I feel. A bigger part of me shuts that down trying to explain that if I write and moan then it’s a cycle of moaning and being upset…

Obviously this part of my brain has been present for the crying sessions, breakdowns and fights over the past few weeks.

Emotional rollercoaster would be an understatement to describe my year. They say that here in Ireland you can get four seasons in a day. Well lucky for me I must be a true Irish national because I can feel every emotion possible on any given day.

The deep dark depressive clouds followed by the foggy unsure about anything… Lifted naturally by a kind deed witnessed or forced to brighten by my stubborn mind to a lighter shade of grey.

However mentally unstable it is for one to get used to this behaviour, yours truly has become immune to it. Disappointed that this is the life I’ve been given but too tired to do anything about it. I once again look at my life and say, nothing horrible has ever happened to you so you must be grateful. It is the forces silver lining which artificially covers the cracks, temporarily I plaster a smile on and convince myself it’s all great.

This jekkyl and hide moment doesn’t last long but it makes others lives easier which I always endeavour to achieve!

For as long as I can remember I have wanted to be a teacher, silly dream maybe but that’s me, others wanted to save the world but not me… This of course followed the period when I wanted to be a dishwasher and then the energiser bunny.

I have strived to take every opportunity to teach and to work with young children since then, I have worked I gain experience, I have spent the last few weeks and months preparing for an interview to get into the course to do so.

Then I waited patiently for a week, trying not to pin all my dreams on it; trying not to see it as my only escape from my slightly verbally abusive boss; trying not to envision it as my only way to have a life or the life I’ve wanted. I tried real hard. Even with the daily questions if I had heard and comments about how brilliant I’ll be when I get it, though I asked them not to say it..

I’m sure the 1000s of you that will be reading this (joke) will be guessed by now that I did not receive a place on the course. The lovely sensitive email came yesterday as I was finishing my Christmas shopping.

Now, I must return to my job where I’m treated less than impressively. I must deal with the fact that when you get bad news and your boyfriend has shoes to polish you’re flying solo. I must look to leaving the country or waiting around another year to go through the same utter devastation… All while attempting to enjoy Christmas! I am praying some unbelievable deed of human kindness will present itself during the holidays which will lift my spirits! Heres to hoping x

I’m just that kind if girl…

Shortly after I was introduced to the world of make-up, hair and generally giving a damn what people thought I soon realised I did not like it. Not because I don’t like to look my best or because I no longer care what people thought of me, it was simply because I find it SO boring. I have many friends that say “getting ready is the best part of going out”, if that was the case than why would one ever leave the house(Interrobang)?!

Luckily for myself it was soon after this revelation that I met two friends of mine travelling. These boys put me through a rigorous training programme of abuse and drinking penalties for taking any amount of time relative to a girl to get ready. I am ever thankful to them that I can have a shower, do my hair and a full face of slap quicker than a turn around on a cheap airline flight! In fact I boast about my skill quite often, citing it as my most impressive talent on any occasion I can find to fit it in.I may be no where near catwalk perfect after my 20 makeover, I have always gotten by.

Many of my female friends are jealous as they lay slave to the mirror for hours and I mean HOURS getting ready. It has happened more than once I have gotten a mid afternoon phonecall filling me in on their makeup status. I have always revelled in the fact that the boys had given me this super power, until now.

As I’ve been of gallivanting with my smidgen of eyeliner and thrown on makeup, these other girls have been practicing and perfecting technique and patience. They are able to stare at the mirror with no end in sight, they are able to smudge and restart again and again. I just want to be in the moment to which I’m getting ready for. Halloween has come upon us again and this year I have decided to go as Big Bird (very exciting); I’ve bought my costume on line and had everything sorted until I got my heart set on feather eyelashes which I cannot find.

I have spent some time this evening researching other options and have stumbled upon a fantastic seemingly easy feathery eyeliner. I say seemingly easy because the model in the video does it and makes it looks ever so simple- a flick here and a line there and you’re done. However I being someone who regularly wears eyeliner but takes 30 seconds to put it on and licks a smudge (if I’m lucky enough to remember) knows that this weekend my biggest fear will not be the ghouls and goblins. No, it will be the fear of forever getting my feathery eyeliner wrong so I have to take it off and try again and again; admitting the fact I am indeed a girl!

Wish me luck…


Sticks and stones…

The daily prompt, “what is the worst thing you hope no one ever says to you?”, is such a brilliant little topic in my eyes. It requires a sense of personal exploration as well as evaluating the effect of the outside world. Furthermore it is a topic that comes into the forefront of my mind frequently and has remained there the past few days following events of the last few months.

I have drifted from friends for no reason but life in the past and it is always a tough process. To see someone who was once so heavily in your life no longer there it’s like breaking up with a fling you really liked. Obviously if they were better friends they wouldn’t have been a fling and you wouldn’t have drifted!

However, when separating from friends with due cause it is always a more painful process. Especially childhood friends or very close friends. Though I have never experienced the loss of a loved one I assume this is the closest I have felt to it in my life. I am no angel, I have made mistakes but I do endeavor to live my life with others in mind over my own wellbeing as much as physically possible. So when someone doesn’t recognise this following one mistake, when they use that time to say how inconsiderate and unkind you are. That is something I would never wish to hear again.

I have recovered from the sense of loss an loneliness I mentioned above, that is not to say I don’t reminisce on the friendship I had anymore, I still do that regularly. However now when I look back I am able to smile and be thankful for that person having been in my life for so long at such a fundamental age. I am able to look past the remarks I heard through the grapevine and see the benefits of my past to my present day self.

I may have recovered, though I don’t feel I learnt my lesson. Having the process repeated recently with no due cause I find myself listening to “what I would never like people to say about me” through the grapevine again. Again I live to put others before myself and hear words against my apparent mean spirit.

While I admitted before I was no angel, this instance arose from my attempt to look after someone I felt dear to me. It has left me with a deflated view on friendship, something that can make you happy can cause such division and hardship in one’s life, especially when it is only felt by one side and highlights you were the only one who ever cared.

The Holiday Curse

I can put my hand on my heart and say that I strongly believe I have been cursed by gypsies and doomed to eternal bad holiday luck! Ok, maybe it wasn’t gypsies and maybe it’s not eternal… But when I summarised my year in travelling for a colleague during the past week I realised it was something I wanted to document!

My bad luck with travelling began when I met my boyfriend and we organised out first holiday. We had only been officially seeing each other a few weeks when we talked about it (I hadn’t been abroad all year and he was still trying to impress me) and would be less than three months together when we planned on going. No one ever actually said it was “too soon” but you could see it when they warned me of the first holiday fight curse.
The night before we were due to go (you may see the beginnings of a pattern developing here) I went out with some friends and hit the tiles a little too hard! I very diligently set my alarm for half past 9, plenty of time to finish packing and get going. I was woken up by my BFG a little before to say his granddad had passed away. Needless to say I didn’t go without him, apparently I was very good for that!
I don’t think I mentioned above that while planning our first holiday I had yet to meet his parents, I was still at the being snuck out of the house when everyone was still in bed stages.
So a few days later at the funeral I was introduced to everyone several times. with regards to the extended family, I doubt at the next gathering they will remember my name or I theirs. Luckily now we have crossed the stage in his house where I was the girl they met at a funeral! Also obviously I wasn’t as selfish and moany at the time…

A few months later Christmas came, unfortunately as is often the way with big fun holidays and events; I was working. So we decided to have a mini break and a mini Christmas just the two of us on the 27th of December.

So when I stopped into a party on Christmas night I had no idea what I was getting. The usual pleasantries were exchanged
“what did Santa brig you?” Etc.
My reply was the usual “not much, bits and bobs”. So a few minutes later when one of the girls replied with “I heard you’re off to Barcelona”, my bemused face and the ever so slightly awkward silence was enough to reveal my Christmas present! I feigned surprise a few days later- for myself more than anything and was still delighted with it. My Barcelona themed presents- Spanish cava, George Orwell’s Catalonia, Freddy mercury’s album Barcelona.
Now this little mini break seemed well planned and perfect. That was until the week before we were due to go.
I was brought out as we often did on a Sunday to the cinema and for a drink. I should have known something was up when I didn’t have to buy a round! This is one for the girls to maybe possibly relate to, though all my female friends have questioned how I’m still with him afterwards.
So in this nice little relaxed bar having a casual relaxed drink with my Bfg, and all of a sudden-
“We might have to come home from Barcelona a day early, I have a football match”.
Now I am not delusional when It comes to these things fellas, I know football comes first. But when your girlfriend has already put up with months if broken plans and rearranged nights away as well as holidays only ranging from Tuesday to Friday morning so as not to interrupt training or matches- ya should probably let one match slide!

“You won’t have to pay for the flights back or anything”. Well obviously I had absolutely no intention of doing that!
I graciously accepted the news, as with everything, I had no choice. Luckily we got there and the match got cancelled, or changed around or something and my holiday was left quite undisturbed.

Our next holiday in hindsight seems quite uneventful. I went out the night before and hit the local probably a little to hard for an early flight, but it was cured by the time we were boarding! Then bar nearly getting eaten alive by midges and Mosquitos (but that’s nothing new) and falling into the first holiday fight curse it was perfect. Of course I threatened to fly home, packed my bag and looked up flights before he stopped me. I had really just been looking to be stopped from the beginning, no intention of doing it but I’m that stubborn sometimes accidents happen! I hope I’m not the only one who in the heat of a fight says something but is so stubborn they go along with inspire if their own happiness?!

With everything sorted out in Portugal, we decided to quickly plan out next holiday to Spain. We found a gear deal for Salou and were going to try out the theme parks and water park there! A little bit exciting for anyone over the age of 21 who still feels 12 a lot of the time!
We booked it for the day of his thesis hand in and the whole thing seemed perfect… Like a good horror film nothing is ever as it seems.

The hurdles began before I had even booked holidays off in work as my partner in crime was booked in for a stag the day we were coming home, following situations that went on too much to put in adequate detail here we decided he would travel by train to Barcelona and I home alone on our package holiday flight.

For those un-familiar with the idea of package holiday, it is usually a cheap deal on a typical resort location filled with many other, usually very loud, Irish families. I have come to the realization I am not a package holiday person…

The holiday began as many of mine do, with a few too many drinks the night before (I did for warn that there was a pattern forming earlier); I realised this as the plane was landing and erupted in applause. Or maybe it was when I was rudely awoken and then ordered my Bfg to pack my suitcase… Either way I was feeling delicate.
Another revelation of the day was that our post thesis holiday was soon to become a thesis holiday. Armed with two laptops, an overload of notes and pens my very smart other half waited until we were on the plane to reveal just how much was left to do, this was also the moment I was told it was due the following Monday…
So began our holiday, locked away in our hotel apartment with the curtains shut (sounds like an ok holiday up until here), typing, collating, evaluating, dictating and all the other things one does when they’ve to throw a thesis together in 48 hours.
Eventually the thesis was done and we had the rest of the week to enjoy ourselves, a lovely breakfast in Linda’s seemed like a nice idea- until the food poisoning afterward.
Our final day was spent at Port Aventura, it seemed like a smart idea at the time to only bring cash. Nothing else. A tip for those travelling- always bring an emergency kit to a theme park, sun cream, credit cards, snacks, bottles of water all the usuals! These are the things that can lead to  1 hour 50 minute queues. Now we of course did not do that, we’re smarter than that! We paid €90 for a 50 minute queue for a 50 second roller coaster. Littered with a few beers and less than mediocre snacks in between we left for home. Most expensive roller coaster ride ever! Ha!

My journey home was in tune with the rest of the holiday, as I packed one suitcase into the accidentally one wheeled other (as my genius other half had booked hand luggage only on his flight home from Barcelona but brought a case that was too big) at 5 in the morning I was not in the best of moods. Add two laptops on to that (he really ain’t that bright) and the fact that I had to drag them down through the lobby did not help. Now I arrived at the coach last, full of the very loud Irish family of 40 which had surrounded us for the last week, I attempted to get my bag on the bus but I’m a little b*tch and have no upper body strength… The one-armed rep dealing with us also couldn’t do it so the bus driver came out to give us a hand. I shuffled on the bus and squished in beside my new one-armed bestie (I don’t think he liked me much to be honest)… Arrived at the airport to a couple with two teenagers head In hands in tow, roaring at each other over who had more bags to carry and which was heaviest from all the vodka bottles.

I kept my head down and dragged my ridiculous suitcase all around the tiny airport with me. I waited for everyone else to check in and then joined the queue (come to think of it, I queued a lot that week)…

Air hostess- Are you checking in?
Me- Yes to Dublin.
Air hostess- Is there two of you?
Me- Errr, yeah, em, just me flying back.
Air hostess- Oh did the other passenger fly over with you?
Me- Yip, he’s not here though so… I don’t have my e-ticket is that ok ( I had just read there’s a 30euro charge)
Air hostess- Oh no problem at all sweetie (helped lift my bag). Have a nice flight Ms Hefferon.

I was the charity case who looked like they got dumped in their package holiday. Quite mortifying but I plodded off with two laptops and assorted carry on luggage.

If I could adequately describe the level of annoyance on the following flight I would, there was more applause, wolf whistles, unbelievably loud games of peek a boo with children who shrieked when they cackled. This went on for Two hours 45 minutes and finally we landed. The pilot notified us there would be another half hour wait until we could disembark, so I sat patiently alone with white knuckles as the crowd around me continued their holiday fun.

The plane emptied quickly and I was finally in the fresh (cold) air briefly until I hit another hurdle. The queue for passport control was a nightmare, in fact queue is a loose description of what I saw before me, with no structure or barrier there was a few hundred Irish people from my flight topped with a flight from Switzerland and possibly another flight, huddled into the same general vicinity with the intention of going through passport control. I sat patiently and read for an hour or so while the queue died down and finally got through to the other side to pick up my broken suitcase.

Due to get the coach home I realised I had no cash so i trekked across the airport to the ATM and doubled back to the coach where I was told it would be another hour wait. After the previous six hours I could take no more so I took my last €50 and waddled suitcase in tow to the taxi rank to eventually get home!

It took a fair few days before I was able to focus on the brief but happy moments from this trip, luckily however (though this tale of woe may not display it) the happier moments were so bright that the whole ordeal was worth it. Once again, it took some time before the irritation wore off and I could see this!

Finally my most recent expedition was the most disastrous in a way, Paris was the plan. It has been said it was doomed from the start; I had bought it months ago for my boyfriend’s birthday in September. But I’m a bright spark- I knew that football came first and holiday were mid-week not weekend, even smarter me we had a wedding the week of his birthday so I figured to book it the week after. Unfortunately the ever so intelligent me had not been informed of his intentions to join the Cadets or that it would start on the 1st of October, so I booked the lovely trip for the 2nd of October. Naturally he passed the rigorous months of testing and was due to leave me October 1st.

Luckily a dear friend offered to step in and travel with me. I attempted a name change and found a fee of €130 where the flights themselves were €46 so I went ahead and booked them. In my distracted state I accidentally booked the new ticket in my name but the airline were gracious enough to change it for a fee. Finally all sorted we were ready for Paris, this time I didn’t even go out and have my usual pre-holiday celebration.

Up at 4am and ready to go, though a little groggy from tiredness, my friend and I made the best of the situation. Trudged through the queues at security when I noted, “Isn’t it mad that you can get this far without getting your passport checked? Imagine getting all the way to boarding your flight and realising you’ve forgotten your passport. On that note I better get mine out!”. Panic ensued as I checked my bag, suitcase, ran from the airport to the car and checked there and returned to the airport. By this stage we had missed our trip. Deflated, I crouched by my suitcase and opened it one last time; there staring at me was my beautiful shiny passport!

All was not lost as we shipped out on a 6 hour (it was supposed to be 3 but we got lost a few times) road trip and a few days of fun and there again was my silver lining! I have sworn to take a break from travelling, though any of you with the travel bug will know the second you try fight it is when it hits you the harder, now I find myself daydreaming and planning a 3 week road trip around America- so please feel free to stay tuned for more antics or leave me with some tips on how to avoid mini catastrophes!

Project Kaleidoscope (Part Two)

So this week started my experiment to try map my emotional Ferris wheel and make some sense of it by relation it to colour!

Immediately after writing my first post I made my way to bed and the excitement of my project subsided. I was left with my usual feelings which often prevent me from getting much sleep… Many people can relate I’m sure when you’re heart all of a sudden turns to stone and your chest feels as though you’re buried in a whole filling with concrete. Being someone who has been buried deep in a hole filled with sand, it is the only time I have felt a similar pain. One can read the words heart wrenching 100 times and understand its meaning however when you feel it you are never expecting such a strong connection between your emotional and physical well being!
But I soldiered on through and focused my mind on the task at hand…
I could feel a deep dark purple, a royal purple take over my body. As deep a colour as an aubergine (or egg plant), but not the shiny ones from a supermarket… Like it had been stretched out and laced with a rusty barbed wire. The feeling free stronger as I lay in bed, even writing about it now seems enough to evoke these emotions in me again.

Then a tear fell down my cheek and behind my ear, followed by another and another; still focusing on my colours the ominous purple began to lift and turn to a lighter shade. With each tear slipping down the back of my neck my body felt lighter, until I felt an all over sense of lilac. This lilac was not a happy state by any stretch of the imagination, the remnants of my deep purple sadness were still there, but the physical pain let go with my tears and finally I could sleep.

The following morning I awoke with the dreaded sense of having to go through another day. To live my monotonous life as if everything was fine and I thought again of my little experiment. I focused hard and could only feel a scummy green inside me. Like a lily pond that had too much fun hidden away in some grand estate’s secret garden, a place that was forgotten about by all those who had been before. A desolate place free from happy frogs jumping from pad to pad or children fishing or couples courting. A place forgotten by all those who were now able to go on with their lives. This deep green was a weight and I tried my best, as I often do to shift myself out of this thinking, as always I was destined to remain there until life decides to take me out.

Luckily for me life did not decide to take to long as I was struck with a bout of hives. This is no new occurrence to me but as irritating as the first time one will get them every time, almost as if I have chicken pox all over my body for an hour or so up to 5-6 times a day! I did not need to think about this experience in colours, it does that itself. The desire to scratch your whole body against a pole like a cat and the fight against these feelings is a searing white feeling every time it happens. A complete absence of colour, rational thought and any kind of focus. The heat of your skin and the feeling that just one touch could make it all better, blanks your mind to a searing white heat.
Then comes the itch, whether one scratches or not the hives will come. They are bright red to the eye and mind as they stand off your skin. The pain of touching them, a fiery relief.

Still scratching I packed myself off for work and did my usual running around like a tornado getting everything done, not a second to think about my little experiment. Though looking back I can probably only say it was a whirlwind grey of paper work and the un-exciting parts of my job.

Later in the afternoon the better part of my job began, when out for a stroll I began to feel the beautiful autumnal colours influence my mood. I was walking with purpose and as I looked around the sky was littered with a beautiful scope of golden orange as the trees changed with purpose. The cold sun peeked through the holes where other leaves had already graciously fallen and made those that were left glimmer in the afternoon light. My surroundings mimicked my mood for the rest of the day and I felt at peace in my seasonal kaleidoscopic paradise, even when I had gone inside.

Unfortunately no good thing can last for ever and as I left work into the October night the darkness around me feel upon my heavy heart with no purpose. My work was done and I was back to being alone in my dark shell.

The pit of my stomach dropped further and further as my heart grew heavier and heavier, my colours and textures followed suit. I went through the motions of everyday life until I reached bed again, a place that used to bring calm, happiness and peace can do so no longer. The dark heavy feelings encompassed me now, the absence of light and presence of fear could not be lightened with a single tear. Yet a year still falls, feeling more like a knife drawing a deep red lonely drop.

Project Kaleidoscope (Part One)

I enjoyed my first Weekly challenge so much I attempted the photo challenge and decided to give this week’s writing challenge a bash! I think I have mostly enjoyed the inspiration to write something, the inspiration to push myself outside my comfort zone (though blogging in general is a baby step out of my comfort zone initially)!

I saw the post and the suggestion to describe a colour emotionally. It mentions the colour “Blue”, which I immediately associated with a sense of calm; when I thought about it further I realised Blue SHOULD, I say should because obviously there are no certainties with emotions and opinions, represent sadness, cold, loneliness and other such dismal thoughts. I am in no way suggesting that I am so over the rainbow I’m sprouting skittles at the moment, however I think my emotional scales may be slightly (an understatement) off-balance at present. I have the emotional range of a finely tuned piano and feel could use the colours of a school art press to describe them at this point in my life!
For this reason I have decided to undertake a little literary experiment and personal exploration over the next 24 hours:

Aim: To map my emotional cycle over a 24 hour period.

Hypothesis: As a recent emotional basket case, this experiment will attempt to see how crazy I’m actually going.

Method: Over the next 24 hours I will note my emotions and emotional changes. Furthermore the colour I feel at the time.

Results: N/A

Conclusions: N/A

Evaluations: N/A