The cloak of vulnerability

I had a visit, earlier this evening, from a removal man. He’s going to give me a quote for moving the contents of this house from this town to Rugby.

That’s probably because I’ve found a house up there that I really like, and I’m trying to get it.

I seem to have had a row with a friend. I am confused and hurt by this, in equal measures.

My propensity for fuckups not withstanding, I thought this relationship was incapable of being damaged even by my trademark butterfingers approach to building strong bonds.

I’m a bit down, about this, to be frank.

No unfunny jokes about being Frank or Earnest, please.

Anyway, in other news…

This weekend I was having a slightly drunken conversation with a friend about people we know on Twitter.

And by that I mean people we follow on Twitter, not just people-we-know-in-the-flesh who are on Twitter.

We came to the conclusion that there are a couple of people we follow – who we have followed for a few years – that have changed.

And because they’ve changed, their Twitter voice has changed.

They have become someone other than the people we originally followed.

Their (now) strident and cacklingly intolerant voices are unpleasant.

They have become less pleasant people.

Less pleasant ‘to know’.

And also, they have become unpleasant to ‘listen to’.

Which is a shame.

They used to be nice people.

And now…?

Not.

But people change, right?

Things occur in their lives and, as a result, they become someone else.

A lot of things have occurred in my life.

Some pleasant, some unpleasant.

And yet I honestly believe that I’m still me.

Still true to me.

My beliefs.

My values.

I think I still retain the essence of the person I was ten years ago.

Twenty years ago.

I’m comfortable with my feelings, and this shroud of emotions and sensitivities still feels like a second skin.

I guess this is why I am confused and hurt.

Because I have had a row.

With a friend.

With someone I care about.

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