An open palm holds more than a closed fist

"Li...?" I have a feeling something is wrong. I can't remember what's happened, but if Li's here it's all going to be okay. 


He looks at me and turns away.


That look... as if I were something he'd rather forget. As if I were something unpleasant he'd wiped off the bottom of his shoe. It crumples me, and I sink to my knees as he walks away.
My tears are incessant, pouring down my face in a waterfall, cascading down my cheeks and neck and chest... I feel my heart ripped out for the last time and I cry out after him
"Please! Don't leave me!?" It's almost a question, but not quite. The plea goes unheeded and he slowly disappears.


The gasping half wakes me, and I roll over. Feverish, still upset. I don't bother drying my eyes. The pillow isn't too damp yet, it'll be fine. I snuggle closer to the pillow, pulling my teddy closer...


She grabs my hand and pulls me along. Excited. Party time! 
Li is grinning at me. But he isn't coming with. Why?
I turn to him, wanting a hug. Something left over from before makes me need his arms round me.
If you hold me in your arms and saaaay...
But he's too far away. He waves and get's into the car, still smiling. Then drives away.
"Wait!" I call out to him as he turns to reverse out. 
Luke looks back at me and I call out again "Wait!" but he's gone.

She giggles at me and turns a corner in the garden. I go to follow her, but... but she's gone. I'm stood all alone. Everyone has left me.
I sigh. 


We're sat in a big room, full of comfy comfy seats. It's great - everyone's here. Well, almost everyone. School friends, DemonTV friends, loads of people. All chatting away happily. All happily ignoring me. 
It's Ness who pulls me up and away from everyone. We're going somewhere important. Dan comes with. 
I don't know where I am. It's like someone's jumbled everything up and the place we are isn't anywhere at all. 
I turn to ask Dan, but he's suddenly not there.
I turn back to ask Ness, but - yep - you guessed it - she's gone too.


The cold sweat on my forehead as I look up from my pillow makes me want to snuggle under the covers some more.
I don't want to sleep ever again if this is the only REM I'm going to get. 


I roll over again, this time onto my back. 
The headache is already throbbing, and there's a slight rattle when I breath.
Joy. Is it time to get up yet?


I spend a majority of the day in bed, then curled up on the sofa with my laptop - reading. Mum fusses around me, but apart from the bad sleep I feel fine. 
Okay, standing up seems to be detrimental to me staying completely conscious... and I keep coughing. But all I feel is a little tired. A little emotional too. Boo to you.


MSN is the only thing keeping me entertained eventually. Conversing with Li and Dan... and whoever else pops online really.


Eventually I'm back in bed, curled up talking to my bestest best friend (in broken French at times), discussing nothing really. Okay, so my tired brain isn't in the best of places to start a discussion about life, the universe or anything... and he's only talking on and off really. It's early in the morning. You can't blame us... 


But hey.         
You know what? Sometimes I just shouldn't open my big fat gob.      
For some reason we've been half arguing over nothing for a majority of the conversation. I've blamed my hormones... not sure if I've been believed but hey! 
And... then I have to go and bring Luke up don't I?     
Questions like "Do you still love him?" come up - and without the aid of his vocal emphasis it comes across as a jealous accusation. 
Logic tells me it isn't, so I just respond as honestly as I can. 
He thinks I'm thinking about stuff too much...       
Then some where along the line, the conversation explodes: 


"STOP DWELLING!!   OR I SWEAR I WILL GO DOWN THERE AND KICK YOUR ARSE TILL HALLELUJAH"      


I'm already crying by this point. Have been since this part of the conversation started actually. It's easy enough for him to tell me to stop dwelling, but it's bloody hard to do. Especially when Luke isn't what I'm dwelling on.
I go for humour. Bit of truth mashed in with my attempt at 'subject change'...     


"liar"      


... crashes and burns.
I mean, I know he can't come down here. If he could, he'd be here already, and we wouldn't be fighting. So I got the truth bit... but the 'subject change'...? 


"ok, maybe i can't... but I will in leicester... I WILL KICK YOU SO HARD YOU WONT WALK FOR DAYS"      


nice turn of phrase... I actually giggle through my tears.       


"then people WILL think we're having sex"            


Please, please, please let that have diffused the situation. I hurt. Lots. I just want a hug and maybe a gentle (if firm) few words to get me through the night.         
I miss him like crazy, and I need him right now - because I'm starting to really deal with the shit that I did and went through with Luke. I am! I'm lonely as hell right now though... sometimes family just isn't enough, you know? I need my friends - I need them.    


His reply comes as a slap round the face:       


"I WILL NOT TALK TO YOU"     
  
ouch... that cut deep. The tears kick up a notch and I can barely breath.         


"that just might kill me..."      


He doesn't realise how true this is. Or if he does, he must be really mad at me to threaten it.    
I don't handle loss all that well, and right now it feels like all I do is loose people. The dreams... the dreams don't help.
He doesn't reply for a moment, and the pain intensifies.
Loosing my best friend... loosing him... 
I'm sobbing now. Full on, heart wrenching sobs. 
I don't even know why he's so angry at me. 
I'm about to beg him to... to what? Something... even if it's only talk to me. I've had him stop talking to me before and I barely managed the pain. Why do we argue so much lately? And why does it almost always turn out to be my fault?
The image of him walking away from me flashes before my closed eyes and I sob into my quilt a little harder.


Finally:


"so... stop dwelling... and accept what happened..."


Ultimatum.
In a way, he's telling me I have to forgive myself. Which I can't. Not yet.
Shit. I'll try if it means he isn't mad at me. I'll do anything to make him not mad at me.


"ok, just please don't leave me"


I've pulled the quilt into a bunch and am still sobbing into it. Trying to muffle the painful noises that keep coming out of my mouth unbidden. 
If I weren't so upset to start with his anger would be almost bearable. 
I don't do well with his anger when it's directed at me. It hurts. And it hurts that I only ever get it when he's hurting too... hurting because of some dumb shit I've done...


But I can't handle it now. Everything hurts so much right now!
I know he's right. He almost always is. I know he's saying it for my sake, and to help... but how do I stop thinking about the ex when I'm scared of bumping into him?
How am I supposed to not think about it all when I'm freaked out by Luke's girlfriend having any similarities to me... though I'm not entirely sure why. Maybe it's because of what Sarah said before we went to the wet-t-shirt competition:

"He would call one day and be all 'I really miss Lauren', then the next it was 'I really like you', then 'I really miss Lauren' again..."


I don't want him to miss me. The thought scares me in this odd way. Like that there's a possibility there of 'more than friends' happening again. That's the really scary thought. 
I can see it now:
Move back to Grantham, get a lousy job while looking for something better. Get back in with the old crew. Get close with Luke again. Same circle starts up...


The idea of being with him in a relationship makes my dinner want to pop up and say hello again. My stomach is queasy just thinking about it now.  
To me, he represents being trapped. He, to me, epitomises the term 'stuck in a rut'. I know it's just because of what happened between us... but I can't help that. 
I like being his friend... I want to be his friend... but the idea of more is petrifying.
So the thought of him holding out some hope makes me want to run to the hills like you would not believe.   


That's why her having the same top as me brought the breakfast back to the top of my oesophagus when I first saw her dancing with him. 
It didn't help that I'd forgotten that it was in my wardrobe and I had this horrible image of him giving some new girl my clothes. 
Like that bit in simpsons where the woman wakes up and Ned is giving her his dead wife's haircut...


Okay - OTT I know... but that was my gut reaction.   


Yeah. I have serious issues there. 
But I hate being accused of 'dwelling' on shit. Even though I'm pretty sure this is probably going to get me beaten with a wet fish for doing just that...


Thing is, to me, dwelling is when you can't stop thinking about something. It's when you mope around going "oh, it's all so sad, and horrid, and bad... poor me!" and are basically a pathetic piece of nothingness. 
I don't think I've been like that.  
Damn - is that what people have been seeing??  


See, I don't know what's worse - that that's what people see, or that I might actually be doing it. 
I mean, I think about it now and then. 
And when I do, it kinda goes along these lines:


"You were a total bitch to him. You know it. You should have been there for him when he needed you and you weren't. You're a crap friend. You don't deserve friends you selfish bitch."


"Oh - cause he was such a fucking angel was he? And I wasn't going through anything at all was I?? He was one of the reasons I had the god damn break downs!! Don't you remember gasping for breath and crying on his living room floor after he tried to suffocate you and wouldn't stop?? Don't you remember huddling under his table and not being able to stop rocking for an hour? God damn! The boy held your hand when you cried for your dead brother - that doesn't mean he was good to you!"


"Now you're being too harsh! He was good when he tried!"

"He didn't try often enough though - did he?"


"And you did?"


"Fuck you."


"You found someone who treated you better and decided you were too good for him!"

"I am too good for him."


"Liar. You'll never be good enough for someone better. Too dirtied and crude - too much of a bitch. You run away if there's a problem anyway - who sticks by someone who wont stick by them? You're just a bitch. Admit it."


"You know what - I'd rather die than continue this pointless argument. I feel like crap now - are you happy?"

"I'm you, idiot. If you feel like crap so do I. Use your fucking brain."

"Ugh - I'm sick of not being able to think! Why can't I do maths anymore? Why can't I write essays??"


"Cause you're a useless piece of crap."

"You know what - if you hate me so much, why don't you just fuck the hell off?"




Yeah... I'm really polite when conversing with myself in my head. 


But that is how polarised my views of everything have been.
It's either his fault or mine in my head. I can't seem to compromise yet and go - look, we both messed up. We both had reasons. Move on.
I mean, logically, rationally, reasonably, I know that's the truth. I know that it was just a two way thing that went wrong. I do. 


So why does my heart want to blame someone?



That's what I'm dwelling on. Why am I caught up in blaming someone? And why do I want to blame myself so badly?
I agree you shouldn't dwell on stuff, but I need the answer to that question.
I need to know... I can't explain why. It's just one of those things. I feel that if I can work out why I'm wrapped up in this issue of who's fault it is, everything will fall into place and I'll be able to understand what the hell is going on inside my head. 


That's what I mean when I tell people I need to dwell to deal with it.
I'm not worried about the issue itself. I'm worried about the ridiculous emotional 'issue' of blame, and why I can't let go of the idea.


I suppose I still judge myself by the worlds view of right and wrong. To me, everything is grey. There is no real right or wrong. But to the world, they're distinct. They're black and white. 
So I need to know which I am.
By the worlds standards, am I black, or am I white?
Was I right, or was I wrong?


Li told me that our argument wasn't about right or wrong, it was about "what would be kind on me"
That's fine, I guess... but for the rest of the world, life is about right and wrong. The argument in my head is about it too. It's about trying to decide which is my conscience and which is my ego (super ego and id retrospectively for those pedantic psychology people). I mean, I should be able to work it out. Which are the rules that society enforces on us??
oh... that would be... neither.... helpful! Not.


Society teaches us that you should be there for people, but it also teaches us fairness and equality. It teaches us not to put up with the shit that we're given... 
I mean - if I were Christian (I would have lost my mind, but that's not the point) I would believe in turning the other cheek and not hurting others and always being there for them...
But would a Christian stay in a relationship so full of abuse?
No.


I think the thing that gets me, is that voice that feels so guilty about how I acted... it's as if it's close to saying "If you'd been a better person you'd still be with him."
As you can tell, I am more inclined to say "Well, glad I was an asshole then!" when this line of thinking comes up. Until I'm really lonely that is. Then it's the thought that I might be married like my sister by now that gets me. The thought that I might be expecting a little one instead of, or as well as, her now. Those are the bits that get me. Not who, but what. 
I think "You were engaged. You had someone to make a life with. Now you have to do it alone." and I go 'but I want a baby.. I want it to be my turn =('
Inpatients is a virtue...


I would get so broody sometimes last year I would ask Libor for a baby.
"It'll take nine months!" he'd say
".... Keep the receipt." I'd reply.
That baby is at least 3 months past due. I bet he never put the order in. If he did, he's lost the receipt. 


Anyway, that's enough of me trying to explain away the stupid arguments that my head causes.
It was just an excuse not to go to sleep anyway.
I'll leave you with the song that Li sent me, because it's beautiful and sad. It's my link to the title of this blog.
My idea for it was to emphasise how what you let be free in the palm of your hand stays there, while what you cling onto in a fist escapes.... but have a sweet song instead.

Oh yes! Merry Christmas everyone!!
It's officially Christmas... I'll bet I've scared Santa off this year by typing. My sister says it sounds like a hail storm when I type. Though, the coughing is probably a lot louder!


Yeah, my chest is pretty bad at the minute. Think I may have gotten a chest infection for Christmas!! Yay?
It's fine. I don't feel that bad. The cough is just unexpected all the time. Until I lay down and sound like I'm trying to gargle when I'm just trying to breath...
It feels almost like drowning if I'm honest. Got a bad feeling about this one. Scary images of puncturing lungs to drain fluid... eep!
But hey! I don't feel too ill at the minute, so Christmas will pass in the good faith and energy that I've managed to muster from somewhere.


I'm cooking today with Mum. 
By that, I mean her hips bad and I'm going to force her to sit down and let me do a majority of it. If she'll let me. For once.
She let me dissect the heart and lungs of the turkey last night before we boiled them up to make gravy stock. It was SO cool!! I never got to do the heart dissection thing at school. No wonder everyone goes on about it though! So interesting! I'd love to do a photography project on the interior of the heart actually.


Thinking about it, I might get up in a couple hours and put the turkey in for her actually. 
Not like I'm going to get much sleep anyway. And even if I do, the nightmares will keep me waking up at nice regular intervals.
Gotta love having a high temperature sometimes. Next it'll be hallucinations! Yay!!


Anyway, Seasonal greetings and merryment to you!
May all your Christmas's be bright (if not white) ^_^



Blessed Be xx

The recurring mistake

Everyone makes this mistake once in their life. Maybe twice. I seem to be making it repeatedly.

It's the mistake where you think that you're the only one who has the problems you do.

I mean - technically, YES. You are the only person with the exact problems you have.
But in reality, everyone has them. Well, practically everyone.

I don't know why, or how, but it's as though when my problems get to be too much people who aren't struggling just don't seem to have problems. Or if they do, they aren't as big. Aren't as difficult. Aren't as fresh...

Then the person you're saying "You don't understand!!" to turns around and says - actually, I've been through this, this and this... just like you. I do understand. You're making a bigger deal out of this than you need to.

I hate that feeling.
Not because I've been put down.
Not because someone else is dealing with the same thing better than I am.
But because I've underestimated their problems.

It's like a slap to the face.

One of my closest friends turns around and basically says "Look, I was on the brink of suicide once. I pulled myself through and won't go back. Buck up and do the same will ya?"
And all I can think is:
a) why didn't you tell me?
b) did you tell me and I've forgotten?
c) how could I have been so horrible as to put you through the complaints and descriptions that I have, making you think about the shit you've been through yourself?? 
d) how the hell do you put up with me?

I'd like to say it gives me the strength to carry on. But to be honest, it just crushes my hope - my belief in myself - that I'm a good person. It makes me see how much of an ass I really am. Probably a much needed wake up call to be fair.

I don't understand why I have to have bigger problems than everyone else at the minute. I don't understand why there's this selfishness just breeding inside me.
I'm trying to understand it though. I need to find the root of it so I can stop it.
I mean... my mum shows the same propensity for self annihilating exaggeration that I'm now displaying. So does my grandma. And my flat mate.
Could that be a part of it?
I was severely bullied as a kid and only started having friends once I became a selfish bitch...
could that be a part of it too?

I think the thing is, I have been through some serious problems in the past few years.
Life got turned upside down.
I felt very alone.
But now that life is nearly the right way up again, I'm still expecting to be on the end of all the shit.
I'm still expecting to be the one with the most problems.
Maybe that's not quite right, or true... but maybe it's part of the problem.

My best friend thinks I'm just dwelling on things.
Maybe he's right.
He got really mad at me for it last night.

Thing is, I'm not sure how you dwell, or don't dwell, on something.
To me, dwelling on something means to think about it all the time.
I don't really think about anything all the time...
So it must mean the things you think about most.
Well, I've been thinking about work and my best friend most lately... does that mean I'm dwelling on them?
I don't know.
He thinks I'm dwelling on my ex-fiancé.
Granted, I do think about Luke a lot. He pops into my head a lot. Certain songs remind me of him. Movies that we watched together... places we went together.. you know, stuff like that.
Only thing is, when I do think of him unexpectedly like that I want to cry.
I'm not even sure why.
I miss him a little. That's natural. We spent every day together for two years nearly... now we never see each other. I'm bound to miss him a little.
Guilt at how I treated him at times (like during my break downs) and how I wasn't there for him...
Anger at how he would treat me at times.
And then just pain of the memories themselves sometimes.
Loss... that one too... loss of a love you thought would be there forever. I mean, we got engaged, we were planning on spending our lives together... to loose that is quite momentous really.

So I guess that's why he's classed it as dwelling. Because I'm not just thinking about it, I'm FEELING about it. Constantly.
I'll be the first to admit it was an abusive relationship.
Maybe there's trauma there that I'm working through?
Maybe it's just an excuse because I don't have a distraction any more?
I don't honestly know. All I know is that I made a promise not to dwell any more... so I'm using this as a last ditch attempt to get it out of my system.

I know there's always going to be things that remind me of him. There's always going to be regrets.
But at the end of the day, though life isn't what I want it to be, and isn't great (isn't even always good)... there's a very real possibility that the things with Luke wouldn't have changed anything in life if they had been different.
I'll always be grateful to him for how he was there for me when I needed him the most.
I'll always regret not returning that favour when he needed me.
I'll always have the scars he left me with.

Time to let them be put to rest though.

There's nothing life or death about it.
But I've just kinda realised. These problems we have with relationships - they're a mask. They're something to hurt about when your life is going down the pan. Your work isn't going well, you're being lazy, money is a struggle, friendships are becoming strained.... it all hurts, but you don't want to admit that life is hard - so you cling to the thing that legitimately hurts.
You think "it'd be okay if there was someone laid next to me"...
mainly because you feel like it'll be okay when there's someone holding you tight and telling you that everything's going to be okay. The power of Love etc. etc...
So the smoke screen of past relationships is probably a common theme in my house.
Kaydie might be able to agree with the above... she might say it's the wrong way round...
But I think it's about right.

So, time to blow away the smoke screen and deal with the problems at hand.
1) Christmas, and how to fund it.
2) Essays!!
3) Fuck load of other work (eg, reading, scripting, organising, looking for a job)
4) Picking a path.
5) Deciding who to be

The rest can wait till I'm back at Uni.
Time to deal with life, and stop trying to convince myself that a partner would fix all my problems.

Comfort is for those who have finished their tasks.
Good things come to those who wait (not who mope around and do fuck all)

Wish me luck on my new perspective!
Kill the hormone fairy if you can catch the bitch ^_^


Blessed Be xx

Living with yourself

There's a lot of stuff I've done in my life that I regret.
I think most people can say that.
You have to live with it, don't you? Live with what you've done.

The thing is, the stuff I've done that I'm most ashamed of is stuff that doesn't even feel relevant to me anymore. It's as if it belongs to someone else...

See, a majority of my life (up until I was 18 or so really) I didn't like the thought of sex. Didn't even like having sex in the later year or so of that time.
But then I met this guy, and we ended up doing it all the time... so you get acclimatised - you know? Thing is, it got experimental. Worse than that, other people found out.
Yeah, people know intimate details about my sex life - and it bugs the hell out of me.

I think it bothers me more because the stuff I did... I don't know how to explain this...
it's like I'd put on a mask so that I could be 'sexual'. I'd wear it all the time because people seemed to respect me more if they thought I was this sex-mad monster... they left me alone at least. Didn't pick on me.
So I managed to pick up this in-built ability to be a slag.

I hate that word.
There's only one that ranks higher in my 'worst' list - and that's skank.

But yeah, basically I learnt to be a slag. No offence to my friends back home or anything - but it's what you have to do to fit in where I grew up.
I learnt that to make a guy happy you lie on your back (or bend over) and open your legs.
I learnt that being a good girlfriend meant putting out constantly.
I learnt that to attract men you had to be good in the bedroom department.

Now, that's not to say any guys forced me to feel that way... it's just how I ended up feeling. Honest.
I sometimes wish there was someone in particular to blame for it.
Someone I could hold the finger up to... okay, someone to punch in the face... but it's not like that. It was just the situations I ended up in and the people I was in them with... and okay, some of the first guys I was 'with' in any sexual capacity were total assholes... but hey!
I guess I did things wrong. Lost my virginity to a friend I was comfortable with rather than a guy I was in a relationship with (because I wanted it to be my choice, not someone else's... though I later realised I'd been catering for someone else's choice anyway).
Then with my boyfriends... ugh... it's embarrassing to say but I basically just let them use my body in any way they wanted. That's what felt right at the time.
I mean... yeah... I'd cry myself to sleep at night... but... it still seemed right at the time.

Now, a couple of months ago I decided I didn't want to be that girl anymore. It didn't reflect how I felt, it didn't reflect what I wanted, and it certainly didn't reflect how I thought. So I put my foot firmly down and said - FUCK OFF! - to the men in my life still expecting that from me. I said "enough", and since then it's like I've suddenly gone back to being 17 again.
I'm back to the girl who actually has morals and dignity.
I'm back to being the person who wouldn't drop her knickers for anyone, let alone everyone.

But the real problem is, that doesn't wipe away the years of being a twat.
And it certainly doesn't help that I've not kept that part of my life a secret.

Now I have to live not only with the fact that I've done things that are totally against my nature, I have to live with other people knowing about them. I have to live with the reputation I've made for myself...

I'm officially the dirty ho bag who cheated on her fiance, and slept with her bestmates ex boyfriends. The one who had the most shocking sex story in ring of fire. The one who's done more than a majority of her friends in the 'bedroom' department. The one who has spontaneous orgasms when she least expects them (okay, that's not my fault, so it's not the same... but it still doesn't help).

How do I turn round after that and say "I don't like sex. I don't want to have it. I don't often think about it."
It takes me a minute to get dirty jokes if we haven't already been talking about innuendo's and so forth. I get taken dirtily when it's really not meant.
I feel like people make these assumptions about me... and I don't know how to escape them.
In a way I'm glad that Uni is nearly over, because I can go somewhere new and start afresh.
At the same time, I don't want to run from my past.
Okay, it's not who I am, but it's a part of me...

Well, that's my rant over for now.
Slut turned Saint ... yea... that's true honest...

Anyway, till we meet again


Blessed Be xx

That is the question

I've been questioning myself, my life... everything really lately.

See, it's nearly the end of University now; I'm nearly at the point where I can be Miss Lauren Sophia Bland BA (or so I hope at least!!) and I find myself asking "well, what now?"
I mean, the plan used to be get my A's, go to Uni, get a degree, then a masters, then a doctorate... but there was never a step after that - and let's face it, I can't afford to study a masters right now. I need to build up some funds no matter what.
So... work?

I always wanted to study at Nottingham... so should I build up funds and then apply to study there?

But I always wanted to study Mathematics too... should I do a bachelors in that?

And my best friend is moving to London where there's plenty of work... and I need to build up funds anyway... so should I go there for a year?

I mean, I've never been to our nations capital... so it's on my to-do list. Living and working there would be an awesome experience (even if the experience itself wasn't so awesome)... but am I just making excuses up to stay with my friend?
They're not even definitely going to London, so should I even bother worrying about this? I suppose I'm only thinking about it so much because it got mentioned in front of Mum and I had to explain, then she told Dad, who spent most of yesterday talking to me about it. I promised I'd think about it... but I didn't expect it to be on my mind this much.

I suppose it's just that when you make amazing friends you don't make plans to be without them. Sometimes it happens that the plans you make move you away from them... but in my head I always thought I'd be with him. So it's kinda weird trying to assess what to do next without including him in my plans. I don't make plans for anything without including or considering him... we're practically joined at the hips... so to make plans for the rest of my life and try not to include him is really really hard. I don't have practice at this! haha

I'm trying to just focus on my studies. I've work coming out the wazzoo to do - books upon books upon books to read and digest. But instead I'm trying to work out what to do with my life, or considering what I've done with my life, or trying to get rid of stupid prejudices that I managed to build up when I was with Luke, or trying to just get over stuff from the past few years... I honestly just want to get my head and bash it into a wall and say "Stop it!! Just get your head down and do your work!!"
I mean it! I'm actually driving myself crazy with the stupid things whizzing round my head. Not to mention I'm actually more bothered by Demon TV than I am my course. That's really not helping with the getting work done thing...

Well, the news that I should impart is this:
I'm now normal.

Yes - you heard me. I'm normal.

Let me explain.
I have reached the age of 21 without my periods settling into a routine of any real sense (unless you count having PMT for weeks at a time, then bleeding for weeks at a time, then not having a sniff of anything hormonal for months or even years... as a routine) - thus my hormones have left me alone enough for me to be rational (like a guy) most of the time.
However, finally, on the eve of my 22nd birthday they decide to actually settle down.
Now, that seems like a good thing - right? No more weeks of PMT, no more bleeding for aaaages... but the thing is, I liked having months and months with a clear head. Where I could think sensibly and not worry about my emotions being thrown into a vortex of insanity by my bodies decision to ovulate. Now I don't get to be the rational, level headed person who thinks logically without worrying about the emotions getting tied in. Granted, I'm more of a stable person now. My personality is going to level out now... but not into what I wanted to be.
I love rationality. It's what I like about guys - unless they're thinking with their testosterone or their hearts they're simple as anything. And when they are thinking with one of those things you can TELL. You can understand guys - they make sense.
Now, I'm a girl. Girls think with their emotions, not their brains. They make wild assumptions based on how something makes them feel. I've never understood that. Not until a week ago when the PMT hit and I suddenly stopped using my brain and started using emotions instead. You know what makes girls so annoyingly complex? You can't predict emotions. You have to pay attention constantly to be able to understand which ones are affecting them, and therefore work out why they're thinking/doing what they are.
I don't want to be like that.
I don't want to think that someone likes or dislikes me by the emotion they trigger by saying something that could have been a joke or serious! It's stupid, it's irrational - I hate it.

But it doesn't go away after the PMT, it just recedes.
You don't get such huge swings and heightened emotions... but you still can't help being guided by them more than by reason.

The only thing keeping me happy right now is the thought that I might actually regain some level of fertility now.
I say 'regain' like I ever had any before... but you know what I mean!

I'm becoming such a normal person though. I'm like everyone else in that I always wanted to be 'special'...
But it's time to face facts. I'm not above average - I'm bang on boring.
I'm finally living up to my last name - Bland.

The part of me that used to be above average was my mind. But that's deteriorated and has now been consumed by emotions instead of real thinking. So that's out the window.
I mean, there's nothing wrong with being average... it's just a bit disappointing is all.
Told all your life that you can be anything. That you have the potential to do anything you try at...
Well, I suppose maybe I should have tried then? ha - serves me right!

Do you ever just think "why?" ?
Why am I like I am?
Why have I done the things I've done?
Why did I choose the things I chose?
Why?

They always lead onto questions like "What if?".
What if I'd done that?
What if I'd chosen that?
What if I were more like that?

You always want to know if it'd be better.
You always think that it would be, but want to believe that it wouldn't. You want to believe you did right and that this is the best. The things that are wrong are okay, because they're for the best.

My mum says she doesn't have regrets. I try so hard not to have any... but I fail miserably at it. I have so many regrets...
But Russell turned to me and said "It's not what you get right that matters in life, it's your mistakes. They're what shape you, change you, make you who you are."
So, regret seems silly in a way. Or maybe it's the point? The more you regret something the bigger effect it's had on you and the longer you regret it the longer it effects who you are...?
I don't know.
I try to accept who I am, what I've done... I try not to look back and go "I was so stupid... if only..."
That's the way we learn I guess... by looking back and seeing what we'd change. That's how we learn how to make decisions in the future.

Still, how are we supposed to live in the 'now' if we're thinking about the past and the future all the time?

I don't have any answers at the minute. I just have the questions.
Lots and lots of questions.

I don't think I want the answers to some of them. I want them to remain a mystery.

Anyway, I'm going to sign off now... try and stop questioning everything so much... try and do some work.

I hope you always have more questions than answers and that you enjoy the search.


Blessed Be xx

The space between love and life

You know those times when you get really really drunk and wake up afterwards and think "Oh god... I can't believe I DID that!" and then you realise you have the excuse of being drunk?
I would like one of those experiences!!

I'm not talking about the being drunk thing. I've kinda had that once (maybe twice if you count the time I was dizzy in soar point). But I've never had the bubbly drunkenness all night that lets you do stupid things and laugh at them with everyone going "it's alright, she's drunk"
I wan't it as an excuse sometimes!

It's like - I'll do stuff, then think "Damn you brain for not having inhibitions!!" because I look like a right arse without the excuse of ethanol ingestion.

I suppose it's fun at times though, I always used to say that people had to drink to get to my level of insobriety.. but now it's just boring. You go out with your friends, and if you're the sober one everything seems so... dull... while they're all having an awesome time, laughing and joking, and not noticing that everything is actually really rubbish. That the girl they've just pulled is actually a minger and has sweat stains as well as smeared makeup - and smells like she bathed in cat-piss. That the boy they've just 'pulled' is actually 5 foot tall and comes up to breast height... good excuse for him to perv at them like...
Also, everyone seems to loose the ability to dance when they get drunk.
Well, I say everyone - some people get better.
But no-one else cares about these inanities while they're out because they're nicely sloshed.

Being the sober one out and out sucks.

Until your friends can't remember what happened lastnight and you can tell them allsorts of stuff. Photographic 'evidence' helps.
That can be fun.

I think the worst part of all of this is that I'm so un-photogenic that I always look pissed on photo's anyway. So it's like - god, how sloshed were you Lauren? And I either have to go 'haha, yeah...' and lie - or go 'actually I was sober' and be both embarrassed and disbelieved.
I mean, my close friends know I don't get drunk. Especially not easily.
I've been tipsy a couple nights this year... and heading to drunk once or twice too!... but I never seem to get to that carefree bit where you've lost your equilibrium and everything is funny and it's all great!
I suppose the problem is that I don't particularly want to drink or be drunk.

Some alcohol is very yummy! I'll admit that - happily. But to me, the taste is more of an effect than the ethanol content.

I suppose the one thing I'm actually jealous of is that ability for others to pull while drunk.

Now, let me say this to start off with - just so we're straight - I don't want to pull some random guy or girl and take them home or end up at theirs!
But to snog someone and dance with them.... that'd be frickin awesome!

I mean, I know there's all these people that I dance with. Russell is an awesome dancer for instance - and Li is too (though he's improved even more through my tutelage). The girls... well, you don't dance with straight girls the way you dance with boys... so that's kinda not the issue.
It's the kissing thing.

This'll sound silly, but I've not kissed someone in weeks... maybe months... and it'll sound stupid (because everyone goes through long periods of time without that kinda mouth to mouth) but I miss it so much.
Well, lately I've been missing the whole 'other person' thing to be fair. The whole laying in bed together, cuddling, kissing, holding hands...
But I get the cuddling from my friends, and they hold my hand when we walk places - heck they even let me share their beds when mine seems just too big and lonely...
It's just the kissing.

Now, a kiss can be so many things. It can be a short, lips closed 'peck'... but they're rubbish and I give them to family members instead of kissing their cheek sometimes. They just mean "I care about you in a totally a-sexual way"
It can be a full on, tongue action, wet 'snog'... that means "I wanna hump you"...

But the kiss I'm talking about is one totally different to both. It's quite long, but it's gentle; it doesn't stay still but there's not much 'tonging' either. It' just really intense and loving.
That's the kiss I miss.
That's the one I dream about.
The one that says "Good morning beautiful, I missed you"
The one that says "You mean so much to me"
The one that says "You're special"

I shouldn't be so hung up about it! I know I shouldn't...
but then you get nights where as you glance across and think "Do I look alright..?" and before you've even checked your reflection a voice floats back in your head singing "Yes, you look wonderful tonight." Those are the nights you sit for a minute and collect yourself, trying not to remember when there was someone sat on your bed (already ready) singing those words to you, then coming over and slow dancing with you as he hummed the rest of the tune, ending with a kiss...
and the mornings, where you wake up and roll over in that "edge across the bed in the opposite direction so as not to move over in bed" way, so as not to bump into the person laid next to you, and you open your eyes and go to kiss them good-morning... and they aren't there. Then you remember they've never slept in this bed anyway. Your eyes sting so much you roll back over and try to fall asleep again.

it just makes it hard is all.

I suppose it's so much harder at this time of year too. I mean, we got together at Christmas... I sang that stupid song to him "All I want for Christmas is you" and he asked me out on Christmas day. This will be my first christmas without him. My third one without V (can't believe it's been over 2years!). My first one with Wayne as a brother-in-law.
I keep saying I hate Christmas. It's just because it hurts so much.
I can't even hide this year under a blanket of gift giving. Stupid lack of funds.
I can't hide behind another person like I was half intending to.
I just have to get on with it.

My friend has been complaining about being alone a lot lately. He's fresh out of a relationship and still hurting. Thing is, it's made me feel my loneliness too. Not more acutely, I've just realised it's still this throbbing ache in my chest that I've been working around.
It doesn't hurt too much all the time. For that I'm thankful. But there are times when it feels like it's this gigantic hole in my chest, and that I can't even breath...
Those are the times when I need someone. When I need to be held, and kissed on the forehead, and told that everything is going to be okay.
Those are the times when I run to my Libor and hide.

I miss him. I admit it.
For a long time I wouldn't. I was too hurt by everything to admit I missed him.
Now I can. I can say that I don't love him, or like who he was in the end... but I do miss him.
I miss the being able to talk. The comfort we could give each other. The strength he would force me to see that I had. The way he would smile at me. The way his hair would fall into his eyes if he wasn't wearing a hat. The way he made me feel so special, just by being with me.
I guess I miss being inlove and having someone be inlove with me in return.

I suppose I'm starting to understand Kaydie a bit more.
She misses her ex a lot. I couldn't understand it properly if I'm honest - because she initiated the break up... so it was like "Well, you wanted this..." and I didn't miss Luke that much after ending things with him. I suppose it felt like she was being hypocritical. But I'm starting to understand now that you can miss someone no matter what happened between you - because they were such a huge part of your life.

We all seem to be missing people these days.
Kaydie and Chris
Libor and Lisa
Dan and Laura
Me and Luke
The list could probably go on a mile!
So why do we miss people? Especially people we purposefully took out of our lives?

I think it's because time (while not being the great healer) is the great forgetter. We don't heal from the wounds people inflict on us because of time. We heal because of our own attitudes and actions. Time just makes us forget it was them that did it. It makes us forget the bad bits.
It makes Kaydie forget that the reason she's depressed is because Chris's rubbed off on her and he made her feel like shit.
It makes Libor forget all the shit that he and Lisa dragged each other through, and all the harsh words they exchanged.
It makes Dan forget about all the fights and stupid arguments he had with Laura all the time.
It makes me forget that the reason I can't do certain things is because of Luke...

Maybe it's good to forget those things though.
I mean, where reconciliation is possible it's definitely a good thing. As long as the same mistakes aren't repeated.
But where things are set in stone... surely we should try to remember the bad bits instead?

I suppose it proves that everyone wants to think the best of people in the end. Everyone wants to be happy and have been happy... they don't want to remember that life is shit.
We're all optimists at heart!

I keep telling myself that being single doesn't mean being alone.
I'm not alone - I know that - but there's this odd loneliness that seems to accumulate when you're used to a steady relationship and then you don't have it.
I suppose I've not felt it yet because I filled the gap with boys I thought I could feel something for. Rebound for the lose.
You can't feel that way about someone when you're in love with a different person though.

That's the thing though. Love is both the most wonderful and most agonizing thing in the world. It makes you able to fly, but it can also kill you.

Thing is, no matter how much it hurts... no matter how much it makes me want to cry or rip my heart out... I still wouldn't give it up. I love Love. I love how it makes you feel, how it makes you act... heck, I even love the pain in an odd kind of way... because it means that you're alive and real... but more than that, it means you've done something amazing with your life - you've trusted someone.
It's more than trust though - it's this all encompassing wonderment... just being able to re-live that moment of falling inlove is worth every tear that I've ever shed.
Just being able to re-live being with someone I love(d) is worth the ache in my heart of remembering them and knowing I can't be with them anymore.
Just being able to be with someone I love and feel the light coming off them as they shine....

There aren't words enough for the feelings love inspires.
Poets and writers have been trying for years and years and years to describe it.
But there's nothing like it. There's nothing like that feeling.
I'm like an addict. I need it.

We all need love. No one can be truly happy without it.
But we make do with a less huge love.
Friendship.

So, my friends, I leave you with these words:

Even though I may not know you, and even though I may never meet you, laugh with you, cry with you, or kiss you... I love you. With all my heart, I Love You.


Blessed Be xx

So sick of it all...

I'm so sick of everything right now.

I mean, really - why does it all crash and burn at the same time??

First off, I'm hoping like hell I have PMT - either that or I'm just turning into a psycho bitch who can't control her emotions. Second, my best friend is getting slated for his blog post because someone (who hasn't read it) had their name in it and a completely different person has decided to print it off and go to the police... that's gonna really piss the police off, because it's petty and not even slanderous... but it's still upsetting my friend. Third (why am I thinking the word 'Hokage' after each of these?), I haven't been kissed since I was pinned in a car and not allowed out till I practically threw myself through the door... Fourth, our house is a fucking tip and I don't have the energy or the enthusiasm to do anything about it. Fifth, I can barely kick myself out of bed these mornings - all I want to do is hide under the quilt till the world goes away. Sixth (still thinking Hokage), I've not attended lectures for over a month. Yeah. Ouch. Seventh, I'm totally out of sync with my best mate again.

I could probably go on. In fact, all I want to do right now is complain about everything.
It all seems so dark and dismal again!
And I am sick to the back teeth of the word FAIL!!! I mean - why do people feel the need to say it? Fail. That's all I do lately, and all anyone says to me (exaggeration there, but shhhh, I'm ranting)!! It's as if there's this whirlpool of failure just sucking at me 24/7 and I can't get out of it!
I have no money. I have no aspiration. I'm running out of hope too!

The thing is, all I want - all I'm craving like an addict - is to be held by someone who loves me. I miss feeling wanted in that way. I kinda managed to fool myself into thinking certain people had those feelings for me - but they turned out to be lust instead. Lust isn't love, and I swear if someone calls me sexy tonight I'm liable to deck them. The violence level has kicked up a notch lately - I reckon it's hormonally induced.
It's like I'm suddenly having to fight myself to be who I want to be. Actually biting my tongue (or kicking myself when I don't), wanting to wash my brain out due to all the stupid innuendo's that keep coming out of my mouth, wanting to just gag myself to stop all the complaining that keeps falling from my lips!

Worst of all I'm having to correct myself constantly.
These little slips keep coming out. Not just the normal "Pancreas/appendix" kinda slip. I mean name slips too...
For instance, when I think "Luke" instead of "Libor"... and then stop in my tracks so fast people must think I've walked into an invisible wall. I hate how much I'm thinking about Luke again too.
I mean, none of it is anything interesting anymore. It's things like the games he'd play, or the little dances he'd do to make people laugh, or the way he walked, or the way he frowned. I'm starting to realise just how much of my life for the past few years has been intertwined with him. No matter how much you want to break from something like that, it's still a huge part of you.

He has a girlfriend now.

Good for him.
Better luck this time - you know?

Makes you think though, doesn't it? When an ex gets with someone new.
It makes you think about whether they compare them to you, and if so what that person has more of (or less of) than you. When he says 'I love you' does he still think of all the times he said it to me? Will there ever be a time when a boy says "I love you" to me and I don't see his face?
The thing I really hope is that she isn't like me. I hope there's nothing that makes him smile about her that I used to do... because that's kinda weird. Like "I used to love you, but it didn't work out, this person is very similar to you - I love them now." Yeah, see how weird that would be? Yeah. That's what I'm scared of.
I don't honestly know the new girl, and with the amount of contact Luke and I have lately I'm not likely to meet her any time soon.

The thing is, I don't have that special someone to snuggle up with and kiss - it's true - but I wouldn't trade what I have for that. It's worth not hearing the words "I love you" or having a kiss goodbye every day just to have what I do.
I may sound delusional, and maybe I am... but that's just the way it is.
I'm not happy at the moment, but the people in my life make everything worth while. I wouldn't give up what I have with any of them for all the money - or all the love - in the world. 'Cause lets face it - that's what happens. You give up your friendships to a huge degree when you get in a relationship. You don't loose the friendship, but it changes. It has to, to allow enough room for the new love...

I kinda dread some of my closest friends getting into relationships (well, not Jodie, because she's so level headed and straight I don't think she'd know how to let go of her friends) because I might loose them a little.
Selfish.

Is it selfish to want more (or less) from someone than they want from you?

I mean, not to want  it, because you can't help your feelings. I mean when you want it in a more 'demanding' or maybe 'open' way? Like, when you try to get that from them?
For instance, is it wrong to try and force a friend not to hug you too much? Is it wrong to be harsh to them in order to make them want less from you? Is it wrong to try and get more hugs from a friend than they want to give?
I reckon there must be a happy balance somewhere in the middle... but I've learnt these past few years that feelings are never a 'balance' between two people who want something different.
If one person wants more, it can go so so so so so so wrong.
Some people are nice and concede to the whims of the person who wants more... but they never really seem to develop much of a 'love' for that person.
Some people are nice and concede to hide their feelings as much as possible... but they never seem to actually get over the feelings.

So what are you supposed to do when a friendship gets to that point?
What is selfish, and what is kind?
What is right and what is wrong?

No one seems to have an answer for it though. We all seem to be struggling in our own ways with this problem in some form (in my social group at least). I think it's just that friendships have this tendency to change... constantly... and we're all trying to get our footing - and failing rather spectacularly at the moment!
The inner workings of a social group always seemed silly to me - the outsider looking in on all these people who couldn't talk about their real feelings because the social politics blah blah blah... it seemed stupid! How could telling the truth be hard?
But now I'm starting to understand that the more people in your friendship circle, the more fragile the connections become. Especially at first. Those bonds can solidify - I don't deny it - but the bigger the group the more mini-divisions there are. The more people the less time you socialise with certain people. The bonds become stronger with some than others... it becomes this complicated web of colours and shades and strengths... and people start tip-toeing around things like 'feelings'.
Actions speak louder than words - but they don't always tell the truth. That's one thing people forget. An action is something spontaneous - where as words are a lot longer to formulate and gel into a coherent thought that people can understand and process. Images speak a thousand words they say - but it's not true, it's just that they say them all at the same time, and we understand without having to be told all of them separately.

So you get to this part of the social network you've built around you (or fallen into as the case may be) where you realise if you say what you want to say it will effect everyone. Not just you. Not just you and the other person. Not just you, the other person, and your closest friends... it's everyone. All those people you spend time with - they'll be effected.
So you affect sincerity, and skirt the issue like a good politician.
The true social butterflies of this world are the real politicians. Never giving too much offence - or fixing it in some either diplomatic or forceful way - never loosing that exterior self.
That's what politics is all about. The mask you wear and the persona you portray.
What's underneath matters only to the very close people you have around you.

What's real isn't what is seen. What is seen can be real (don't get me wrong, I'm not saying we're all liars!!) but it's hardly ever the full truth.
I mean, you can look at some couples, for instance, and think their relationship is perfect (or as near as you can get in life). But you get the reality of it and you find these huge cracks and problems that you'd never imagined. Things you'd never be able to even deal with yourself. Things you couldn't comprehend people staying together through.
Or you can get people who are arrogant, and cocky - so full of themselves you want to hit them round their supposedly perfect little heads and bring them down a notch. You think their lives are so great, and it pisses you off because they're always ramming it down your throat. But you get the reality of it, and there's actually this really insecure person, terrified of failure, or whose life has totally crumbled around them - and instead of crumbling with it, or giving in to the torments of fate, they put on a brave face and pretend they're the best thing since sliced bread.

By the way - what's so great about sliced bread? I get that it's a convenience to buy it sliced and everything... but it's not that amazing, surely? I mean, back then the best thing was surely the power of greyskull or something with moving parts? Like the wheel?
Why do we never say "The best thing since the invention of the wheel!" ??

I suppose there are some things we never know.
Some things that we're never allowed to know - and other things that just can't be known, or understood.

I'm honestly tired of people trying to know everything about other people though.
It seems so pointless.
There's no way to understand a persons every action or reaction.
You'd have to know their entire life... and even then you'd have to know more. You'd have to know what they were feeling, how things made them feel and so forth - and a lot of people wont talk about emotions.... even more can't talk about them honestly.

There's always something of yourself you want to keep to yourself.
That's my belief.
There will never be a person in the world I wont want to keep a little bit of myself from. Because if you give it all away to them, what are you? What's left for you to say "I know my own mind better than you do" ? How can you be validated in anyway if that person can predict everything about you. How can you be a valid human being if there is not a single thing you can hold as your knowledge and yours alone??

I'm rambling far too much.
I should really sleep at nights.
Signing off


Blessed Be xx

Sat in the Library...

Well, I'm sat in the library (no, it's not the first time this year, thank you very much!) and I'm now completely bored. I don't seem far enough into my essay to actually write anything, and the next step is going and looking through books... research... yadda yadda... but I'm quite comfy sat here doing very little.

I'm only actually here because my friends were coming - and I didn't want to go back to the freezing-cold lonely-ass house that I don't really call home anymore. Yeah, there's a long story there... which I'll probably tell in a bit... but right now there's this thing stuck in my head (which, as usual, is why I'm writing).

I stand in front of the sink. I know I've broken into a new circle of closeness now, because the arguments over me not washing up are starting to dwindle - I'm winning finally, and Li only complains properly when his flatmates (or anyone who doesn't accept me as a permanent fixture at their house) complains about him letting me do it. Like now. Charlotte is horrified at the idea of me cleaning... even though I fight to do it all the time. She'll get over it soon enough. I'll be on the rota soon if I'm not careful actually.
So here comes Li to tell me to stop. Which I wont. Which he already knows.
He helps by tidying things, bringing the dirty stuff over to the side of the sink (now that there's room for it). As a joke he stands behind me and presses the back of the large kitchen knife against my throat. It's funny, till I tell him the knife is the wrong way round and he puts it down horrified that I'd even imagine him holding an actual knife to my throat. Shocked that I'd ever imagine him putting me in danger like that.
"Luke used to do it." I say, automatically.
Well... that killed the fun - and the conversation.

I can't help these little flashbacks lately. It can be something small and silly - like someone blowing a raspberry on my forehead and calling it a kiss, bringing back the pain of desperately wanting a kiss from the man I loved only to have a raspberry blown on my lips - or something big - like someones hands round my throat...

There was so much that was messed up about our relationship. I knew it at the time, but looking back it seems so much worse.
Yes - for the record - I did just as much back to him. Well, not just as much... but different things that I should imagine amount to the same thing... if that makes sense. And no - I never discouraged it. I should have... I should have put a stop to so much that I let just keep going. Stuff that made me cry at night, stuff that made me lay next to him and wait for him to go to sleep so I could slip out of bed and lay on the floor just to be away from him... but I didn't.

It doesn't make sense to me now that things carried on as they did for 2 years. Two whole years!
What on earth was I thinking?
I would never do that sort of thing now. Never. I wouldn't let someone hurt me constantly like that.
Maybe that's because I've been there though?
Maybe it's because I've been in that place where you have your heart broken every day, over and over, feeling it in your chest like a physical wound. Feeling the splinters grow and move - smashed open again and again... maybe I needed that in order to grow a back bone and know that I wont, wont do that again.

In a way it's made me stronger - so maybe it's true that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.
At the same time it's made me a lot more fragile.

Such small things can tip the balance of my mood now.
Little tiny things can make me want to run from people who I absolutely love.
These insignificant, infinitesimal actions can break my trust of someone... and it takes ages to build it back up.
So maybe I'm not stronger.
Maybe I'm broken in some strange way.

I don't like that idea though. I don't like the idea of being broken. Of not being whole.
So I choose to believe in myself.
That's what life comes down to in the end. A series of choices.
What we choose to do now is what makes us who we are in the future.
We can choose to be effected by things, or choose to move on and be strong.

Ah... moving on...
That's something I wish I could do when it comes to the house.

Not that it's a bad house or anything... it's just that... well...
It's cold, and it has this really really really bad vibe!
Li's called it a 'presence' before, but maybe that's because of the weird experiences I've had...

Okay, so I wasn't going to mention this anywhere my flatmates could see it, read it, hear about it (you get the idea) but I can't actually keep this to myself anymore.
There's something freaky in my house.
I hear it walking about  in the kitchen... especially when no one else is around... it's like it comes out when there's only one person there. Its toes click when it walks sometimes - that's when it's in a good mood. Others it scrapes its feet across the floor and it screeches. The other night I swear it was scratching on the windows too. It freaks me out when it's like that.
It follows me to my room too!
I hear it come up the stairs and walk along the landing, and it makes my heart race.
A fair few times when this has happened I've hidden in my bed casting protection spells and circles around me in the hope it won't come in.
It stood by my bed once and totally freaked me the HELL out!!
It makes my lights flicker all the time too - and it's even opened my door a few times. I've taken to locking it at night when I think it's in the kitchen - just in case.

I came home the other night and it was there. There was no-one else about and it started making really scary noises. I was really upset - mostly because my witchy friend had just left me at the door. If I'd just invited them in the stupid thing might have stayed quiet, or my friend could have helped me out...
So there I am, stood in the kitchen without the light on (because I was in a rush for the loo at the other end of the kitchen and hadn't thought to turn it on) with this creeped out feeling of being watched, listening to the freakiest scratching and scraping noises this stupid thing has ever made. How I didn't pee myself I'll never know. Yeah, that's me being smart right there. Instead of going to the loo, or turning a light on, I stopped to listen.
Anyone got a brand handy to imprint 'IDIOT' on my forehead please?
Eventually I managed to make my feet move and turn the light on. Thing is, it always seems to come from the little room/enclave next to the bathroom... so I'm stood at the other end of the kitchen trying to decide if I can hold it long enough to go upstairs to the loo instead - wasting precious minutes of bladder retention - as I try and pluck up enough courage to move towards the sounds.
Yeah, that's right, clever tit here actually went towards the sounds that were scaring the hell out of me.
"Could be the boiler!" I argued with myself "Could be the washing machine!" why the hell they would sound like breathing and feet scraping... don't ask me - but the boiler and washing machine are in that alcove, so there was some logic to the madness!
Okay, so the boiler wasn't on. Neither was the washer. But the toilet was empty - so I used that before wetting myself. I also remembered to turn the light on in there. Somehow scary noises aren't as bad when the lights on. Till it flickers... then you bob your pants some more...

After psyching myself up a little more (okay, so I text Li in a total panic and he calmed me down) I decide - you know what! I'm not afraid of this! I'm gonna get something to eat!
Yeah, back into the kitchen I go... back past the place I think of as the center of all this 'icky presence'... I'll tell you now that was the quickest pick up of food you've ever seen.
Lights all on while I did it (might even have left the toilet light on, can't remember) tapping my foot and wishing I'd put my headphones in to listen to anything other than the sporadic scraping noises.
Then running practically all the way to my room, turning lights on in front of me and only just bringing myself to turn them off behind me.

So this is why I don't like our house.
This is why I don't spend much time there now.
Because every time I'm there there's this... this thing...
And I'm actually scared of it - scared of facing it alone again...
I don't sleep well, because I constantly think it's going to come into my room again. I don't use the kitchen often (or stay there - especially alone) because that's where it seems to live.

I sound stupid and paranoid... but still - it's scary!!
And I have an over-active imagination which doesn't help the situation!!

Anyway, I'm going to stop rambling before people in the library think I'm actually working hard on an essay, what with typing so much!


Blessed Be xx

The desire to explain

Sometimes your past stays there - in the past - and leaves you alone.
Other times it haunts you.

I've come to learn it's the mistakes that haunt you the most.

This mistake just keeps going round and round in my head, and I felt the need to share it...


I'm laid next to him in my little flat, the single bed feeling like a tomb. The weight of what happened is pressing in on me so much that I eventually sit bolt upright and tell him.
"I cheated on you."
I can't remember what else was said, or done. I remember his fist going through my wall. I remember him storming off to see our friend. I remember being on the phone to my sister... but it's all vague and indistinct...

The thing that sticks out is the actual night when I ended up sleeping with another man.

We'd all been drinking - band get together. A bunch of us ended up back at Johnny's for more drinks. That ended with Sam getting totally smashed and somehow walking home. But it was so cold, and I just wasn't ready to go home yet. Luke and I had been fighting, practically yelling at each other on the phone, I was pretty sure he'd told me things were basically over. I'd cried outside rehearsals. Johnny had been walking me there when I had the phone call... I knew he understood why I was un-reluctant to go home to a cold empty flat and have to think about it.
So we sat snuggled up on the sofa talking about music, and autism, and god knows what else. Then suddenly we're kissing.
My instant thought is "You don't kiss right..." but I've just done a double shot of jagermister... so who cares right? I can at least pretend to be drunk and that this is ok. To be fair, I've been a little dizzy since necking it...
Then some how we're stood up. I'm intending to go, but he's pulling me to the stairs.
"No..." I pull away "Johnny, no." but his mouth stops me and now we're the other way round and he's gently pushing me towards them.
I pull away again, repeating no. no. no...
But his mouth is so insistent. I don't remember if he even argued. He's already offered for me to stay the night if I don't want to walk home.
I pull away again, but some how I've managed to get pinned against the wall on the bottom steps of the stairs. It's hard to pull away with your back against the wall.
All I can hear is my head screaming "no!!!!" but my body is responding to the way his hand runs down my side, the way his kiss includes his whole body pushing me into the wall. The insistent way he draws me further upstairs.
We finally reach the top of the stairs and he opens another door. More stairs. It's dark. I'm so tired.
He starts up these stairs and after a couple of steps lets go of my hand. I can't think. I'm so tired. I'll just lay down a second and...
"Hey, come on.. don't sleep there... look, my rooms just over there, it's closer... come on" his hands are pulling me gently up. oooh, bed... sleep good... okay.
Part of me suddenly thinks "wait - where were you taking me?" (I found out later his flatmate had a double bed... and wasn't in...) but the thought doesn't last long before I'm guided along the corridor to a little room. The bed is small, like mine, but really messy. I don't care. I practically fall into it as soon as he lets me. My belly is doing something strange.

I fade in and out of consciousness as his lips press against mine and his hands wander. I can't remember who he is. Luke? Li? TJ? a list of people runs through my head. Oh wait! You're... no WAIT!!!
My hand reaches for his and I press his fingers on my engagement ring.
"We can't."
He shushes me and continues to undress me. Suddenly I don't care anymore. I'm used to this anyway, the routine of it helps ease me into it all. So used to acquiescing. So used to letting someone do this...I give in and let my body take control.
All I can think is "You kiss wrong...." during the whole thing, and through it all the nag of guilt. My anger tides that over some how, pushing it down, down, down.

When it's over I don't know what to do.
Part of me feels violated, but then I also feel mildly satisfied; and the churning in my stomach is getting worse - pushing it all down, down, down. We lay next to each other, I feign sleep; where before I was practically unconscious, now I can't sleep.
It's not long before I'm slipping out of bed, into clothes, and across to the bathroom.
I want to be sick. I'm going to be sick. Oh god, please no - I hate being sick! I always end up peeing at the same time! Thank god I'm only sick once a year (if that) normally. Please don't be sick, please please please...
He comes in and finds me hung over the toilet bowl. So attractive. He must think I'm so slaughtered.

I can't throw it up though (anally/orally retentive) and I can't face the idea of staying. I feel so ill. He's trying to convince me to get back in bed, but instead I search out my shoes and other belongings (I've lost an earring!! It's a favourite!! well, serves you right) and he agrees to let me go home. Last time I was at his he walked me half way home... tonight he doesn't bother. I totter home feeling worse and worse - my first (and only) walk of shame.

It takes forever to get home through the tears and sickness, but I finally manage it. The security doors playing nice for once, the lift up to the fourth floor clunking along at its ordinary pace, the front door finally yielding to my persistence and finally I'm back at a toilet - feeling utterly sorry for myself.

Food poisoning. Bad food poisoning. Ham that was weeks out of date and bread that was changing colours... all tasted fine with BBQ sauce at the time! And I'd figured eating before going out was a good idea! That's Student living for you.
It affects me all day. From 4am when I get in, to 9pm when I go to sleep.
I feel like death. I'm confused and ashamed about what I did. I don't know what to do.
I end up telling my new best friend, who I'm so sure is never going to be able to look at me the same way ever again.


Telling Luke is the hardest and most necessary thing I've ever done.
I don't know how I stay so calm the whole time. The more I think about it, while telling him and then waiting for him, the more I start to think that it was rape. It wasn't though... saying no a million times in a row counts for nothing after any show of acquiescence right? Plus I'd kissed him back. Totally my fault.

I'm even calm when his fist goes through the wall by my head. Justified - I think. I barely cry when I try (and fail) to explain. I text Li for him so he can go talk to someone else.
Then I throw the ring at the door after him once he's left - all composure lost.

Three days he cries. Three whole days. He can't talk, can't look at me. My brain wont shut up though:
How could I hurt him like that?
How could I let things go that far with someone else?
How could I let someone pin me to the wall like that?
How could I let someone push me upstairs and into bed?
How could I be so cruel?
How do I fix it?
Why do I not want to?

Everything is so disjointed. My memory to this day is of total confusion and upheaval. I remember that I avoided band practice from then on. Didn't see him again. Except for at Oxjam, when he came and said hi. They'd kicked him out of the band anyway.

What's really strange is that I always imagined that the only reason that someone cheats on their boyfriend or girlfriend is because they like the other person more - or a hell of a lot... but it's not, is it? It happens for so many reasons, and it almost always starts with problems in the relationship.

For me, the worst part is that I still go over the whole thing and try to work out why things happened the way they did. Was the mood just right? Was I drunk? Was it the food poisoning? Was I mad at Luke? Was I attracted to Johnny? Are any of those (even combined) good enough excuses? Is there an excuse? Am I just a terrible person for having committed the ultimate sin against ones partner?
On top of all that, I don't see how I can ever be trusted again. How can I ever be believed by a partner if I say the immortal words "nothing happened"? How can I trust them to be faithful if I know it's so easy to be adulterous?

My fear of commitment is rooted in many things, but I think this is a big part of it all. Commitment means never being allowed to mess up.
I'm prone to messing up.

I don't know what on earth has possessed me to share this with you. I feel incredibly stupid for doing so in fact. So stupid I was going to leave it in draft form forever... but I'm not that kind of person. So here it is.

In the end though, I'm just that girl - the one who can't say no. I may dread doing something, or really not want to; I may have grounds perfectly reasonable not to do it... but ask in the right way and I'll do it.
There's only one person in this world I've ever found I wouldn't go against if I thought it would actually upset them in anyway; and that's my best mate Li. If there was something that someone wanted me to do, and it hurt him - I wouldn't do it. Or at least I'd be extremely unlikely to do it (depending on seriousness and severity). That's not to say I'd never do anything to hurt my friend. I often end up doing stuff that hurts him. They're the things that I hate the most. But we all make mistakes - and like I said earlier - I'm prone to messing up. I'm pretty much a mess up.

So yeah, I just had to get that said. Get it out of my head for a little while.
Now that's done, I'll go sleep.

Peace and love to you, whoever you are


Blessed Be xx

In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.

The words sting my eyes as I read them. The words of longing, of regret; they make my heart thump out of rhythm as I realise they'll always be for someone else.

She was always the one he wanted, yet she never managed to get him. How? It seems impossible. But the thing that hurts the most is knowing I'll never be as good as her. I'll never be able to make him smile in that way. Never be able to light those emotions, or make him laugh like that...

I remember swimming with them both. Even when they were in the middle of arguing there was that something there, something in that smile, that erased the world and left only them. I don't think either of them saw it then... but it was always there.

I can make him laugh, and smile, and even cry at times... but it'll never be that laugh, or that smile... or even those tears.
Sometimes it hurts.

No, that's a lie. It always hurts. Knowing you can't give someone that love, can't make them happy in that stupidly eternal way. Knowing that nothing you do can ever make it all ok for them. Knowing that they'll never understand that all you want is their happiness.
It doesn't hurt not having the feelings returned. Not for the reasons you think at least. It's not painful because those eyes don't look into mine with the same tenderness that I can't take out of my own eyes... it's because I know that there's no way to make them soar the way just their smile makes me fly.

It's knowing that the boundaries will always be there, keeping you away from their heart. Keeping you from being able to pour that soothing balm into their wounds and kiss everything better.

In truth, it's knowing that you'll never be good enough.

Because no matter how ardently I love and admire him, no matter how hard it is to repress those feelings, they'll never make him happy.
I'll never be the one that brings that happiness back into his eyes.

Sometimes I fool myself that I will.
But it's all in vain.

I'll keep this love caged in the friendship sized box I've forged for it, and hope it doesn't grow too much bigger than it already is.
I'll love him forever, and I'll not speak a word of it again.


Blessed Be xx