Pen's Tumblings

I have no friends. Here’s why …

I’m selfish.

One day I’m going to die, hopefully it won’t be soon but it will happen one day. When that day comes if I had friends I’d expect them to be a little upset. I wouldn’t expect their lives to be ruined forever but I would expect them to be a little sad for a while.

If it should happen that I died on the day I was due to go to a party with some of them oddly enough I’d expect them to cancel the party. I’m strange like that. Or old-fashioned. Or have a little human decency, however you want to term it. 

I’d expect that when they let people know the party was cancelled those people would say they completely agreed and wouldn’t have been coming anyway because it wouldn’t seem right, not with me just gone only a few hours before.

“Ah”, you say, “I see what you’re getting at but this wasn’t a get together with a handful of people in someone’s home, or 50 people in a hotel ballroom. This was a major event, it couldn’t just be stopped.”

I suppose those who consider themselves glamorous can’t be expected to stop their pre-celebration celebrations just because someone died. How would they be able to stand in front of each other and weep and orate if there was no one there to weep and orate too? Oh, they couldn’t be expected to wait till the funeral or memorial service, to act with quiet dignity.

So, I have no friends because I’d expect the buggers to show some modicum of caring I was gone, if only for a moment.

Inside your closet.

The Day 12 photo.

Is it wrong that I’m not comfortable with this, after all they’re just clothes and shoes and boots. I wear them out and people see me in them. A few coats and bags, some scarves, you know, the usual stuff in women’s closets. Or wardrobes. We call them wardrobes. 

I really am not comfortable with snapping the inside of my wardrobe. It seems too much, too personal, a bit like the later one of the inside of the bathroom cabinet. Apart from the fact I don’t have one, a cabinet that is, not a bathroom, we’re not quite that uncivilised here in darkest south Wales.

We’ll see. I feel an obligation I shouldn’t feel, I’m obliged to no one to snap the inside of my wardrobe, or anything else for that matter. Then again I started this and I’m fed up not completing things and this is only 29 days, it shouldn’t be a trial.

Probably a suitably artificially aged image will appear at some point during the day. Thank goodness for Instagram making everything look a little dulled.