Dear Diary

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Sorry that I have not written in an age. To you.

It’s not that I have nothing to say, rather I have too much to say. All these conversations are screaming in my head, bleeting for a voice. But I can’t select just one to share. Which one first? Which one, dammit!

Despite sincere efforts otherwise, in just two short years my beloved  birthday has turned from my favourite day of the year to my most dreaded. 2012 was no exception.

Fan-fucking-tastic!

And family dramas? Well . . . . what would my life BE if I/we didn’t have them? How very un-Western-civilised that would be.

And money dramas? Well Dear Diary, for the first time in six years, I have money enough to buy food every day AND pay the necessary bills. Not all of them, but definitely the more pressing ones.

I now am not fearful of answering the phone when it rings! Wow.

And other things. So many other things, some of which are so painful, but involve the story of others. Do I have the right to air these? These stories are the heaviest.

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