Hope is unlikely
2002-09-27 || 6:57 a.m.

Winter is on its way.

When I woke up this morning and went in the shower, it was still dark. I sort of like that and I sort of don't. The main problem with winter is that I cannot get any clothes dry. My house is too damp.

Yesterday when I took the dog for his walk after school I decided to go by my winter route. It's getting too dark to walk my long and lonely summer route now. No more long walks down to the Thames and the marshes. Mind you, I get the voyeursim of looking into people's front rooms and seeing how cosy and normal they all look. Just like the little match girl, I'm a permanent outsider.

As I walked along last night I got into a terrible panic. I couldn't write about it last night when I wrote yesterday's entry. I hate my mind. Strange, dark things just come into it uninvited. And then I get scared that by having thought them I will create them into reality.

I want someone to hold and I want someone to talk too. But who would want to hold or talk to me?