Like Eleanor Rigby I keep my face in a jar by the door.
With it on, I hold four people’s lives in my head, work ‘part-time’ (code for ‘the same hours as everyone else, just at unconventional times of the day and night) as a writer and creative director, pander to four cats far more than I do to my children, and keep plates in the air.
I don’t really know what’s behind the face, but it needs to stay there, safely contained from contaminating others.
I talk to psychologists and psychiatrists but nothing seems to change. And there’s no space in real life to say how I feel.
So I’m going to talk to the digital air.