Well, my 16 painting commission seems to have swollen to a 22 painting comission ... we'll see ... I've got the verbal thumbs up and am just waiting for the formal "GO!"
Here's hoping it happens ... it will keep me distracted for a while (and allow me to buy christmas presents).
Just wish I wasn't so bone grindingly tired.

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Grey

With no-one really sharing your victories,
no one to sincerely hold you and say it's gonna be okay,
everything just becomes shades of grey.
I'm tired of being depressed,
tired of being sad,
tired of wishing,
tired of hoping,
tired of trying
tired of wondering,
tired of being tired,
tired of being trapped,
tired of having no way out,
tired of being defeated,
tired of speaking and not being heard,
tired of being alone,
tired of being lonely,
tired of missing,
tired of aching,
tired of being scared,
tired of trying to protect people,
tired of protecting myself,
tired of doing the right thing,
tired of doing the wrong thing,
tired of finding things to fill the gaping holes in me,
tired of walking lines,
tired of pretending that I'm okay.

But to everyone else everything is okay ...
cos the drama is over isn't it ...
we can all get back to business as usual,
because everything's fine
... it's all fine.
Just fine.
And I can tell who knows and who doesn't,
cos those that know ...
they treat me like a mental patient,
I read their eyes like a childrens book.
“he could snap at any moment you know”;
They smile nervously,
like I might contaminate them with my sin
“see how he smiled back just then?
he'll try to seduce you too if you don't take care”;
As if I'm an escaped convict
“and the things he did!"
... he should be too ashamed to show his face round here”
... “how she forgave him I don't know, such a saint",
... "would have never taken him back myself",
"but that's the type of person she is”.
And I want to laugh and poke them with pointy words ...
I want to grin! To thrust feral grins in their direction!
I want to, but I'm just too tired.
And so I murmer back with my eyes,
"Just leave me my dreams.
They are warmer,
So much warmer than reality."
So I pull them around my shoulders.
Hunch my shoulders. Crouch.
Remember when I was fun.
And I whisper back ...
"Take your 'saint'. She's a liar".