I almost am developing a phobia for this year’s New Year’s Eve. The last one was so bad. At that time, Mark and I nearly split up. I’ll never know how close we came to that, but never since has Mark been that furious with me as he was then.

But I’m not sure that I can make this one perfect, and it feels like if I don’t – if it will be meh – then the last one will still be the New Year that stands out in memory. What happened last year is that for many reasons I got into my little head that my parents were coming to England to bring me back to Sweden.

They were snippy with me on the phone, and dad launched into a serious tell-off on me. What was going on was that my parents were divorcing, but they didn’t tell me that until later, and I got into my head that they were coming to take me back home.

Silly, I know.

But it was a horrid time for me, for Mark, for everyone, and I pushed Mark away – which meant he was so furious with me that I’ve never seen the like since. Is it silly of me that I want him to have a happier, more positive such memory than that one? I want this one to be a good one. I want this one to be perfect.

***

I have written today! I started writing a little something this morning, just after eleven, and then I looked up and it was seven in the evening. The word count in Scrivener was close to seven thousand words!

I feel like easing back in bed and having a cigarette, except I don’t smoke, and Mark would kill me if I did so. As usual when something just pops into my head like that, I have no plan or structure or goal with the thing.  It just pours out of me. Word vomit.

That act of creating is quite fascinating, and very opaque. I have no idea what makes that side of me work, and I have no idea how that side of me works, and in the end I am not sure I fully want to understand it because if I do understand it, then maybe it will stop working?

***

Stephen has another new girl which he introduced today. This time, I think he’s found something worth keeping. She’s intelligent, and doesn’t put up with his crap, and she actually knew who Asclepius was without rushing to Google. Or claiming knowing that was pointless because they didn’t show it on Big Brother.

But he is on probation, the poor sod, so he has to be in at seven this week. He dared tell his parents that he wanted to change tracks at school. They are not very pleased with him. They’re going to push him into not giving a toss about school. I hope the new girl keeps him on the firm and narrow.

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