Who I am these days now things are different

I am changed.

It is an undeniable truth — totes altered, that’s me.

You don’t lose close loved ones, get bullied by your manager in the funeral home you work, get forced to defend your grief to your employers, have a breakdown, spiral down, and come out the other side without changing a little.


I could rewind time and try but I’d probably end up the same way. Although maybe not, second time around I’d swiftly put that bully in its place. I just wouldn’t have been a doormat.

Always been a doormat.

A sarcastic, gobby doormat but a doormat nevertheless.

I try and assuage everyone, not rock the boat, keep the peace, be reasonable etcetera — look where it got me. You can’t see my lows, but then I couldn’t see the bottom.

Couldn’t — it’s done now. All done and dusted.

Sort of.

I am changed.

It’s not a bad thing. It’s just not all good.

No patience.

No tolerance.

No time for fuckwits — I just can’t stand them.



Myself — I have no time for my own nonsense. Fuck sake, I’m ridiculous. If you want to look at a fuckwit, HERE! Sometimes. Not all the time.

Sometimes I’m THE fuckwit. Chief. Bow down to me.


Supreme — er, excuse me, why aren’t you bowing? Yeah, get on your knees.

I am quick to anger because of all of this and I don’t like it. I don’t like this part of me.

I’m nasty with a real emphasis on the ‘n’.

On the flip side, next minute me

Is polar opposite.

Everything above, 180 it.



All the time in the world for all in the world, except especially rude fuckwits ’cause should no-one have time for them.

Flirtatious — I’m a terrible flirt.

I think — no I’m not certain. I’m probably making it up. Defiantly making it up. But playing on my mind, I’m telling you — playing. Emphasis on ‘play’ and utter make-believe.

And I am quick to laughter. Not a chuckle or a giggle but a full blown fit.  Work has started to comment on ‘losing me’ — “Oh dear,” they say. “We’ve lost him again.”

Again — it’s becoming rather frequent.

It feels rather nice.

I like laughing, but then who doesn’t?

The pendulum swing — swing — swing — swing — swing

Is sickening.

It sticks sometimes, too.

Why can’t it stick in cheer?

Sticks in anger alright.

Sticks there good.

The cheer turns to anger and before I know it I’m livid.

Other than that, I’m sorted 🙃

Tomos James