Am feeling a queasily familiar sense of dead and uncertainty edge itself around the door. The sense of not having the answers; of not even knowing the right questions to ask; of having my emptiness exposed to all. Feeling responsible for the rising tide of panic, every harried look or question, and eyes turning towards me ~ I should know what to say, I should know how to ferret out the problems. It’s cold yet I’m sweating. There is a knot of stone in my stomach. I leave work but feel I should be there, working. It’s blinding and makes me slouch, I don’t want to engage.

It might also have to do with the large amount of chocolate I ate when I left work today.

Don’t know, when I feel like this, if I should be quite so open about it. Answers on a postcard, please.