Pull yourself together. I struck out on the training - again. More relocation, relocation, relocation from her. .... I'm not thinking about it. Well, I did on arrival home. To see stuff packed up in boxes... it opens up the wounds, still sore, still throbbing. Brings it all back. It's fading again now but it's going to be a long, long time before I'm right. It's the little things. Sometimes, it's the bloody gert big uns, but mainly it's the little things that hurt the most.
Anyway, what the f*!k am I like? A frickin girl, that's what [no disrespect to girls intended]. I managed an hour on the bike in front of the telly, watching The Criminals Guide To Covering Your Tracks - or CSI Miami, as some people call it.
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