I’ve been here before, many times. I was foolish to think I had left this place for good, and now I am without any support whatsoever. I am more isolated than I’ve ever been even in a lifetime of loneliness and it adds to my vulnerability.
The Eliot poem ‘Prufrock’ has been caught in my head, or parts of it at least. The part that says
I should have been a pair of ragged claws
scuttling across the floors of silent seas
feels like me. That and the ending with the mermaids. Hell, I think I posted it not long ago.
So here I am, isolated, without my independence but with someone who does not wish for me to be here after it’s been given to him. I cannot turn to the solace of the woods that I have found since I was a small child because there is only swamp. I’m scattered, shaky and trying not to look too deeply into that pit yawning at my feet. I’ve fallen in there before and it’s hard to escape.