I kept waking up last night, and finally got up at 12.35pm, having gone to bed at 1.30am. I had a weird dream; I peeled an onion, and every layer was brown. It was rather like a matryoshka doll, and I could see a whole stack of hollow onions near me.
No fags today, so feeling very odd with withdrawal symptoms. It's no good my going on about it. I'll do what I always do; try and pull myself together and just get on with it.
My life is a bit of a paradox at the moment. I have a strong feeling of inner warmth and love, but an equally strong feeling of fear and disaster. I hope I'm not turning into a skitsofreeniac. I am reminded of a sentence from A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens: "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times..."
When I've had my coffee I'll go and see the lady about my job placement, due to start on Monday.
I am playing at the pub tomorrow.
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