The Motor

It’s that moment when you realize that, actually, these people aren’t actually your friends, they are just Mutuals being polite because if they WERE your friends they’d have worked out how fucked you are right now and will have reached out and offered to help. It’s the comprehension that you are running at a different frequency to everybody else: mostly just out of their field of vision, undoubtedly over their range of hearing.

It’s the time to be polite and let people know what’s going on, whilst accepting most of them won’t even fucking notice anyway. Those who do understand that this isn’t like the other times either, she’s not doing it for attention but actually quite the opposite. She doesn’t need you to agree with her any more either. This is not about a fan club. It’s the realization this voice in her head is NEVER going away and that the cadence has existed for a very long time indeed.

It’s all here, like it’s always been for the entirety of my life but only now do I have the physical strength to mentally manage that workload. Six years to get tough enough. Absolutely worth the effort, and it’s not like I’m going to stop here either. The next twenty-four hours is gonna feel like a month, but on the other side is progress. That prolific work rate should have been the red flag a lot sooner, but it’s okay now, we’ve got this. The problem comes when people do actually start listening… but really, after all this time…

Is anyone really that bothered except me?