Goodbye.

The prospect of a train journey through London, from the Midlands to the West Country to spend the weekend with my children mostly excites me. I love being around people and of course the joy of being with my kids is very real...painfully real, in fact. 

Mainly why I thought it wasn't social anxiety because I've always loved being with people, for as long as I can remember. Used to actually interact with other children as a young boy, apparently. Can barely remember now. Just the heartache of adolescence and its continuation into manhood. 

Nice to feel the rush of the non-stop express train pass me. I'd never jump - could never traumatise anyone like that - but I can savour the moment all the same. Then I think of my kids, my loved ones and the worst thing is always the same - that I just can't feel anything. I can force myself to cry if need be and, rarely, if caught unawares. But I sit there, puffing out hot steam in the cold air, yearning to be able to express emotion just freely. To just smile without self-consciousness for example.

So the journey continues. Passing by the settlements, the big city getting nearer. About as close as I'll ever get to an orgy is in a big urban setting around fellow homo sapiens on a Friday and Saturday night. The buzz of freedom, temporary illusory freedom, as the week ends before another begins - feeling like part of me can somehow 'take part' in it from my solitary viewing spot/shadows. A midnight walk through the urban nightlife before slinking off to find a bed somewhere. Little better than an animal meandering around, looking for a place to give up the ghost.

Life carries on. Do it for them the voice says. Just do it for them.

A

The prospect of a train journey through London, from the Midlands to the West Country to spend the weekend with my children mostly excites me. I love being around people and of course the joy of being with my kids is very real...painfully real, in fact. 

Mainly why I thought it wasn't social anxiety because I've always loved being with people, for as long as I can remember. Used to actually interact with other children as a young boy, apparently. Can barely remember now. Just the heartache of adolescence and its continuation into manhood. 

Nice to feel the rush of the non-stop express train pass me. I'd never jump - could never traumatise anyone like that - but I can savour the moment all the same. Then I think of my kids, my loved ones and the worst thing is always the same - that I just can't feel anything. I can force myself to cry if need be and, rarely, if caught unawares. But I sit there, puffing out hot steam in the cold air, yearning to be able to express emotion just freely. To just smile without self-consciousness for example.

So the journey continues. Passing by the settlements, the big city getting nearer. About as close as I'll ever get to an orgy is in a big urban setting around fellow homo sapiens on a Friday and Saturday night. The buzz of freedom, temporary illusory freedom, as the week ends before another begins - feeling like part of me can somehow 'take part' in it from my solitary viewing spot/shadows. A midnight walk through the urban nightlife before slinking off to find a bed somewhere. Little better than an animal meandering around, looking for a place to give up the ghost.

Life carries on. Do it for them the voice says. Just do it for them.

A