The Plainclothes Clown

 Yesterday, I watched the sunlight drain from the sky, and I said "The sun shall not rise on a day in 2019 ever again."
This is how I let go of bad years. 2019 was a bad year.
2019 was the year that I, amd my family, lost the best and brightest of us. Our gentle soul Samuel Thomas Greene, 1994-02-01 - 2019-02-21. My sister's boy, taken from us on an otherwise beautiful Thursday morning.
Compared to that, the rest of the year's events really cannot shine, no matter how good. There were good things in 2019 - my Welsh language course, my brief stint in paid employment before becoming an unpaid volunteer again - but really, the only thing I can say about 2019 that would make it good in the end is that 2019 is now over.

I must admit, there are days when I really miss being in a relationship. I've been told that this is normal. Doesn't make things less tiresome.

The last relationship I had was with Laura, of course, which was some moons ago by now. To this day, I wonder where she is now, whether she's all right, even what she's doing right now. I don't honestly believe she misses me for a moment. Nonetheless, I do want her to know that I miss her, and that all I'd need to know to make me a happy man is that she is happy in her life, whether she is now in a relationship or not.

I miss Flavia, Laura's friend. I truly loved her. She was murdered. I truly miss her.

I'm missing the chats with Tracy (whom I love as a friend, please note - she's a respectable married lady, besides which she lives in Texas and I live in Wales ...). I miss talking to her, although I'm comforted by the back-and-forth I get in the form of replies to my blog entries.

But most of all, on days like these, I miss the feeling of being in a relationship; of feeling someone's arms slide around my neck to embrace me, the feel of lips pressing against mine, the heady sensation of all those endorphins flooding the body and, erm, the reaction down below.

Ah, well. Sentimental moment over. Back to being terse, enigmatic and scary.