Keepsakes

Just to continue on the same thread as my last post, I love men. I just don't love or like the little man who has taken to digging at the insides of my head. This man I absolutely hate, if only I could make him go away, even kill him or something, or at least find him a rock he could dig on happily ever after. But not my head. But if wishes were horses I would be on the longest ride ever, so I just have to rely on dear old Paracetamol and antibiotics. Having a little man would be so nice, but not in my head thanks very much. Sometimes he digs at the same rhythm I type, and that is fast. I have never learnt typing, but I have my own school of typing which is that being a musician is extremely handy when you want to type. It makes you a pro at typing in a probably dangerous and odd manner, but gives results nonetheless. Long nails don't help at all, but then you also can get used to typing with long nails. It's amazing at what the human being can get used to, and that's about anything. After years of surfing the net I can now type, smoke and drink at the same time. Amazing. What very versatile creatures we are. Sometimes I can also talk on the phone if it's on speakerphone. Ok I'm also becoming a brag. But I've been cooped in here for way too long, my only outings being out on the terrace for a couple of minutes. That's no outing. I want a grand big outing so I can wear my fur. Do not ask if they're real or fake, I have both. And yes I know that animals go through a great big ordeal for their fur to be taken, but I have never bought the real type myself. They were a present, and although I should throw them away according to my my love-animals-to-bits standards, it so happens that the one who gave the gifts isn't here anymore, so they're my keepsakes. I know it's wrong, but I will never find the courage to bin them myself. Because sometimes, although it might sound silly, a tiny part of us never lets go. At least a tiny part of me doesn't let go. And so keeping the gifts along with the gift cards is the only way to go. They could have been anything, I've also kept silly note cards, all of them. I've kept the diamonds too, it just turns out that some gifts were made of real fur. Had they been fake fur I would have kept them just the same. I've also kept shoes, more jewellery, clothes and that special place in my heart which will not go away, not even if I try to look at it with the mind-over-matter philosophy. I just am a sucker for keepsakes. I will lose the things I buy through a lot of carelessness, but never keepsakes. I have even kept my first teddy which is made of fake fur although it's hard to believe because the fur has been frictionised by loads of bashing about with my twin's same teddy bear but in a different colour. And they are still there on the mantelpiece, the white versus the brown. Of course mine is the white, it's more stylish and I knew that from the beginning!:) Keepsakes; I have so many, but so very few mean a lot. Each one means something, the latest ones mean the most. And that's not very bad because it either means I've stopped growing old, or that it's been quite a long time since sadness. Because my keepsakes tend to grow sadder over the years, with a massive sad grief which stops at the real fur. It may look as if I want to hold on to the sadness. But no, I don't. But I really cannot change the past and the keepsakes which come with it. Because the past is what makes me what I am now, together with the keepsakes. Sadness has been a part of my life. But then without happiness there wouldn't be sadness. It's a ratio, a parallel. Without the grandeur of happiness I would never have felt the deep sadness. So it's been a happy life too.