It was a random encounter at the station, and I ran. I didn't know I was fleeing till I'd fled, and by then it was too late. Just goes to show that nothing has changed, and nothing will change, and I've gone nowhere and done nothing. Everything I thought I might have possible dealt with just came gushing back up the plug hole. That was probably the universe caught in a moment of kindness, giving me one chance to make things better, and I ran. I was ashamed and pathetic then, I'm ashamed and pathetic now. I fucking hate myself. These things will never change.

I said that it's probable all the fear and helplessness concerning Mum comes bursting out at any opportunity. There's nothing that can be done about Mum, I can't show these things to Mum, and so when entirely unrelated upsets pop up, it all leaks out and makes my ever reactions a bit more fraught.

I don't suppose it matters. I like to get big in my head, and imagine myself capable of dealing with the situation, any situation, better, but I know I couldn't. Even if I pulled such a feat off, I wouldn't be able to sustain it. It all ends on the lounge room floor, over and over.

I'm not reading, I'm not checking, I'm not here. Sorry.