Without further ado.
“What the fuck are you doing?” my logical mind ridiculed me. I will admit, I felt like a moerse gaai talking into the air.
A word of advice – Don’t speak to the dead. 1/10 – do not recommend.
“Don’t go downstairs”. She sounded different. But I didn’t give it much thought.
I have had so many nights where I want to just run away for a little while. Get in my car and drive, and call my husband from a pay phone somewhere upcountry. But these fantasies, no matter how rooted in really feelings of entrapment are merely just that; fantasies.
So nope, I sit here as the early bird deals open on all my favourite store sites. And I look longingly at the 4 lemon juices for R30, the half price camping chairs and the two bottles of Russian bear for R300 and I sigh deeply.
What you are reading is what my brain does when it is overloaded with nonsense. I am venting, to everyone. Forgive me. But I am gonna verbal diarrhoea on you, even against my better judgement.