It's almost 5 am, at Les B. in France, we are meant to leave in a couple of hours. I've not been sleeping well here, being pestered by insect bites, my ankle is very swollen, a little painful and incredibly itchy, must have been something other than a mozzie.
Listening to Jamie Woon and trying to get back to sleep, but cannot stop the brain and the itching. Loss of friends and father make my heart ache and at times like this there is no limit to my melancholy and the world could very well be a figment of my imagination. Haven't spoken to any of my friends for almost two weeks and my emotional and sleep-muddled mind longs for them. I get to a point where I think I could have made them all up. I miss talking to Phizz, hate that I am not sure exactly where he is, and seeing that Tokyo might get to see when I was hoping to see him. Miss my lovely husband whose birthday it is on Saturday and I won't be there and I feel bad about it. I feel bad about so many things at times like this, my tummy decides that I must be hungry and helps keep me awake, I am sad and itchy and frustrated and annoyed.
And hungry. I need a cuddle from my favourite man in the whole world, who is at work in his office in Melbourne and probably eating his ham and cheese sandwich and two carrots for lunch.
I've been doing so much for others the last few months that I forget what I want for myself and just doing what I think I ought to. But I want to sleep. Right now. I have a big drive ahead and a lot of packing before that. Please God of Sleep, bless me with unconsciousness.
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