Split teenage personality

This morning I have butter on my toast, instead of raspberry jam.
At the forefront of my mind, I listen to the radio because I need someone to talk to me.Is this what the ordinary name Loneliness?
As usual it is worth listening to a female voice, mainly because they talk about newspaper snippets, which, completely out of context, always sound funny, whichever voice you say it with.
I skip the speech of the Holy Church of England, instead get stuck with Radio 3 and French Romantic organ music, hmmmm….
While it is obvious to everyone that I am a pitiful creature, listening to the world, I could not return to sleep at this rather unholy earthly Sunday hour, for the worst reason.
When my mind has settled on a thought then it is immensely difficult to let it go, even if it consumes all my mental energy. Of course, for rare moments I think of why the tiles in my bathroom have such an odd shape, or why my mother tried to tell me her newly purchased petrol blue trouser is apparently royal blue. I could not argue with the lighting conditions.

It is, reoccurring, the realisation about what I have missed before, and the return to its absence, now knowing what it is. Does that not ever leave you fantasizing and craving to repeat, or is it only me who has tears in her eyes when my eye lids move every morning?

In fine white type, I noticed the truth yesterday in a TV advertisement for a car manufacturer:

Fiction. Do not attempt.

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