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Erica, 36, married for 5 years, sits looking out a window


You know, sometimes it’s nice to just sit. Just to sit here with a coffee and look out at the world.

I sit and gaze off into the sky quite a lot actually, I suppose I always have. It’s nice, you know, just gazing. Just letting your mind drift off into these silly little fantasies. Some days it feels like I’m in a dream. You know when you’ve had a dream, but it’s nothing that exciting; you’re just popping to the shops for a few bits and run into a friend or you lock yourself out the house and have to get the next door neighbour to let you in? And then you wake up and everything’s fine but then you think later, did that happen? Did I post that letter? Then you check and it’s still there, so it must have been a dream. But it still feels real. That’s what some days feel like. I do nothing, or at least I think I do nothing and the day passes in a flash. I’ll just drift around my own little path blindly stumbling through the day.

And the thing is, I can’t really tell if that’s bad or not. Whether I’ve wasted a day or if it wasn’t even a day at all. Surely if it was so important, then someone would have told me, would have rung me, or something. And so I pass it off as just another day soon forgotten.

But it’s at times like this when I look back and I think, what have I been doing? What have I achieved yesterday? Last week? What am I even doing it for? How can I be dreaming if I haven’t even got a dream?

I suppose I should be more proactive. Be one of those women who just does things. Who gets up in the morning and does. Those sort of people know what they want from their life and so they get it. Meanwhile, I sit at the window drinking coffee and dreaming.

I often think about me when I was at school. I did well, I went out, it was good. I remember enacting these silly little fantasy games with Beth, my best friend, of how we would travel round the world in an aeroplane, visit countries and have adventures, ‘Expeditions’, we called it. I’m surprised I knew that word to be honest; I think Mum said it and I asked her what it meant one time and it just seemed such a perfect word, expeditions.

And it’s when I’m sat here, alone, that I start to feel it. Sadness. I can put on the radio, read a magazine, but it’s just there, lurking beneath me. I feel this stinging behind my eyes and I feel like there’s just no point in anything. That I’m not loved, that the world hates me and I can’t help succumbing to it.

I don’t cut myself of couse, I’m not some teenage girl, but it just sits there, possessing me, this sadness and I have to sit and wait for it to leave me.

But I guess I always just want to know… why? Why don’t I do something about it? Why don’t I tell someone? Why am I so sad when everything is fine?

Created: Aug 24, 2012

Tags: non-fiction, prose, story

JackRi Document Media