The eternal interim and void that is my existence for the next 1000 hours, until my rebirth with a metal spine, is becoming increasingly harder to fathom. The episodes of distress and torment are creeping in and monopolizing more and more of each day. My mechanisms for handling physical incapacitation all assume mental capacity. However, during these appalling incidents, which I can only liken to the attacks by the Vashta Nerada (the Shadows that melt the flesh) in Doctor Who, I temporarily lose two basic human rights, freedom of speech and freedom of thought. How can one maintain these two precious liberties when facing an enemy that can enter their very core?
It is New Year’s Eve, and it is practically worth being this physically immobile to avoid societies’ pressure to have the “best night of the year”. The part of me that is a New Year’s Eve Scrooge has been gradually surfacing after countless experiences of dashed high expectations. Tonight, may in fact, despite the nightmare situation I am currently literally embedded in, develop into my favourite New Year’s to date. I have no grand plans, so how could I possibly be disappointed? Weather wise and emotionally it will be a “misty start to the new year”, but, at least mist can clear.