Where there’s a rum, there’s a reason!

Except, I didn’t drink rum – I drank vodka. For the first time in my life. I didn’t melt! This didn’t turn into a scene from Indiana Jones, it was all fine. I hadn’t intended to. I was just walking with two of my “friends” from writer’s group, straggling along until the very last possible moment when I would have to go for my bus. I didn’t have to. I told them that, due to my stay in hospital the other week, my regular appointment had now been moved to next week – meaning I was free to stay out and not worry about the next day. Once that was announced, the girl of the group was adamant she would, in her words, corrupt me. I dropped my bag, and hugged her, and thanked her – this was before I’d consumed any alcohol, by the way. What can I say, I’m an affectionate guy! I sat with her and the other guy, and asked for the most naturally flavoured drink on the menu. It had honey in it, and lots of citrus juices. It wasn’t disgusting in the slightest. I drank it, and I chatted a bit to the guy about my woes with recent attempts at dating. He’s straight, but advice is advice. He imparted so much wisdom, that when I found out he was only 35, I couldn’t believe it. These two adults inviting little ol’ me to drink with them were fully functioning members of society. I’m only one year younger than the girl, and I do not feel like a functioning member of society. I feel like a burden; an alien; an anomaly; a unique species; an enigma, wrapped inside a conundrum, surrounded by a layer of mystique, encased within a fortress of allusiveness, shrouded in a cloak of …huhwhatsthat!? It took me last night to open up for the first time since coming out of hospital, and really for the first time, feeling like I’d got back that sense of normality I’d had beforehand. I’m doing good. I’m normal. I’m going to continue to do good. I’m allowed to take as long as I want. Just because I started the year really productive, it doesn’t mean I should feel guilty when that productivity stops. But, hey, if youre reading this, then I guess my productivity hasn’t stopped, it’s just shifted focus.

About tomsbrain

The central hub of all things Thomas McNab - a 30-year-old Yorkshire-born writer and filmmaker, living with a disability, and medicating himself with obscene amounts of films, television, and amateur wordplay. Find out more at http://tomsbrain.2ya.com.

Posted on May 12, 2016, in Posts. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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