I wander lonely as a cloud...

There are no words to describe... how often do I say that? Perhaps my vocabulary is too limited, or maybe I conceive emotions as infinitely surpassing the translation of thought to words. Either way, I always feel unable to express these thoughts of mine. That's why my blogs are so long.

So, what went wrong?

I've been actually happy for weeks now. It's been the most wonderful experience. You forget what real happiness is when you've lived in the dark recesses of your own mind for too long. But to just feel light and happy again has been so freeing. Like a holiday from life.

So why did I wake up this morning in a state of pure dejection and misery?

Admittedly, the coughing fits that kept me awake most of the night were pretty bad and probably didn't help; or the fact that everything in my house felt creepy when I got home after the party... but I started to go down at the party if I'm honest.
The party was awesome - for such a small gathering and such an impromptu giggle - don't get me wrong! The people there were some of the people I would happily spend the rest of my life with...
We had a laugh, and everything seemed great - even after admitting something INCREDIBLY embarrassing during ring of fire... which I hope will never be repeated outside of that room!! (which I've only just realised I never said at the time... oh dear)
There was drinking-chat-roulette... there was music... there was so much conversation... there was a midnight trek for more alcohol...
all the best elements you could ask for really! I even started making proper friends with Kev (who my bestmate really likes)

so why did the cloud come back to hang over my head half way through the night??

Maybe I just ran out of time? There was a limit to time I was allowed to feel amazing, and I wasted on just having fun with my friends - believing it would last forever.
To be fair, I've been forgetting lately that this can't last forever. This here, where we have so little responsibility, so little duty, so many friends, so many opportunities... we are so lucky to have this, and I've lost two whole years of it through being stuck in a little box labeled "Lauren" in my head. In that box was a bunch of pain, and memories that prick you constantly... because of that self-made box I totally missed out on life. I guess that's why I want this to last forever now.

I have a friend who's closer to me than a lover, a circle of friends bigger than I've ever known, a gigantic room all of my own, I have health and happiness... is it any wonder I want it to always be like this?
The pains and trials of life are so simple and small at the minute. I know my friends are going through their own problems, but they aren't HUGE problems that wont go away no matter what. I know one of my closest friends is still struggling with the same pain I've had (only amplified), but together we can get through it. We'll help each other through that loss. I'll help her in any way I can.

Anyway, moving away from the random ramblings (I'm still only half awake after such a bad nights sleep, please forgive me).
Russell has been all philosophical lately - which I have to admit I've missed so much - and some of the things that have come have made me think...
There's this silly comment that I made last night that is stuck in my head though. We were discussing (of all things) Google. Russell was complaining to Dave that the auto search they've introduced - where it searches as soon as you start typing - is annoying and should be opt-in not opt-out. The comment circling my head is "Yeah, well, life is opt-out, not opt-in"

I can't believe that sort of comment popped out of my mouth.

I suppose it went overlooked in that context. No-one really batted an eyelid, the argument continued. There are several people though that if I said that around it would kill all conversation out-right.

Suicide is one of those things that if you haven't experienced through the loss of a friend/family member or wanting to do it yourself, it's easy to talk about. You have your views on it, but they're not personal in any emotional way really.
When you have lost someone however - or if you constantly think about it as the only path before you - suicide is the most difficult thing to talk about.

Thing is, I'm sick of hiding from it now. Yes - it hurts like hell. Yes - I can't bare to think about it without wanting to cry for the people I've lost. Yes - when it's brought up I have flashbacks of what I've been told or imagined myself. But screw it!
I'm tired of hiding from the pain. It still hurts if you do that.

So, let me tell you about my experience with this subject.

I suppose it starts with getting depression myself at the age of (I'd guess) about 13. Having a high IQ and no friends just led to it I suppose. I finally had it diagnosed when I was 17. By then I'd already been day-dreaming of ending it for so long I kinda assumed it was normal. Came close a couple of times.
Thing is, I always pulled myself away from the actual action. I'm pretty sure I'm not the sort to 'attempt' suicide - if you catch my drift.

I always kicked myself for that though; because I'd seen the pain. I'd seen it there in her from the start... I'd just never got close enough to try and help. Stupid, I know, to kick yourself for not being the one to save someone. Big headed too. But hey, that's how I honestly felt.

Her funeral was insanely attended. Everyone from our form went. Most people from our year did actually. And from her new school. Everyone who had ever known her really... we all turned up. Three or four lines of people stood outside in the freezing cold when the church was too full. We stood and listened to the farewell service as best we could. When her coffin came past us, we all cried. Well - I say we all cried. I didn't. I welled up. I remember thinking "Oh god - how can they put her in the earth!?"... but then a breeze caught my attention and I realised it was just her body in there. What made Georgina her was that smile, those eyes that were so hidden and expressive, the way she ran, jumped, laughed... none of that was in the wooden box passing me.
I held a private circle for her while I stood there, saying goodbye in my own way.

Enter upon the scene Luke.
Luke was my world for about 2 years. He was there for me when things fell apart... but I knew from early on that he had depression too... I thought it'd get better instead of worse though. Besides, now me and my sister had similar partners and I felt closer to her (and my brother-in-law) for it.

Ah, Veesham. He's where it all culminates really.
My brother in law... he always suffered from depression. We knew that. We accepted it. We made allowances for it. Sometimes he wouldn't come to family gatherings, or want to talk on the phone, or want to see anyone. We knew he didn't love us any less, he just couldn't interact like that...
Just before I started Uni, he lost his mum. At the funeral he learnt things that... well, that broke him in ways I can't explain. He lost his mind in a way. He would have nightmares... he was terrified that he would be what he had always wanted to be - what he had just found out was not as wonderful as he had imagined - what he could never forgive, especially now he was gone - his Father.
For months he was under the watch of the crisis team. My nieces were so worried at times. My sister... how the hell she coped I'll never know. Though, the things you do for the one you love are infinite and unexplainable. He took to his bed and just... stopped coming out of it eventually. He wouldn't talk to the crisis team, though they'd come every day.
My sister (Rachel) told me that sometimes she would come home to find a job half done. He would have got half way through and be so fixated on how an implement he was using could end his life that he would put everything down and just go to bed.
Once she found him in bed - he'd made a noose but couldn't find anywhere to put it.
I moved off to uni before all this got so bad. I came home one weekend and went round to see Rachel. V was in bed. I remember hesitating before leaving - to go and say goodbye, give him a hug, tell him I'd see him soon; or not? - but I just hugged Rachel and told her to give him my love.

Two weeks later my mum and dad arrived at my flat with Luke. I nearly collapsed when Mum got hold of me and told me he was dead. He'd found a place for that noose after all.

I'll never forget standing up at his funeral (so empty... so few people there in comparison to George's) and reading the poem I'd written for him (the poem I'd had to write for my creative writing project while I was home) knowing no-one would appreciate that it was written in the loose form of an elegy... standing next to his coffin and wanting to reach over and touch it. Barely making it through the poem as the tears welled up. Looking over at his coffin as I ended on "I love you brother, and I miss you. We all do."
My dad jumping out of his seat in the front row to hug me, crying himself.
Sitting in my seat at the end and just letting the tears fall till I was pulled out of the chair by Luke. Watching the smoke rise as they burnt him and not being able to stop crying.

Months later my depression was matched only by Luke's. Every moment was spent either thinking about how to end it all, or trying to stop myself thinking about V, or trying to stop myself thinking about death. As I started to pull out of it, Luke's worsened. He told me of nightmarish visions he had of himself being... I can't even detail it. Sorry. Just take my word for it that it was unpleasant and disturbing...
I barely handled it then. But when he still couldn't pull out of that despair I ran. I admit that I was a coward. I couldn't handle his pain, I couldn't handle the thought of loosing another person in the slow way Rachel had. I ran.

At uni I found Kaylesh (my flat mate) had been cut the the quick by the story himself. He had found his father the same way a year before, had to cut him down and call the ambulance. Had to bear the scrutiny of the world as they gave their sympathy while taking the gossip of his loss.
Back home Jessi opened up to my sister. She had never spoken about it before. Her own sister had locked herself in her bedroom on valentines day and burnt herself to death.
This year I find a friend who lost her sister years ago to the same selfish temptations.

It's as though being a suicide-survivor (the actual name for people who've lost a close friend/relative to suicide) brings you others.

I suppose the reason I get so frustrated at my own depression is because I know, I know, how hard it is for other people to deal with. How hard it must be for my family when I get that low, scared of loosing another loved-one. I know how hard I found it dealing with Luke's depression. I know how little time I have for Kaydie's.
That's why I admire my friend Dan so much. To be able to continue to deal with a loved one being depressed, and not let it break you down, is truly admirable. His strength makes me want to be better.

So that's why I'm gonna take today to drink hot chocolate, and think about the sad stuff, and let it wash over me for a while - then put it to bed tonight. Tomorrow I'll let go of the pain again, and get on with living life.

No one we loose would ever want us to be miserable. To regret our memories of them. They wouldn't want us to shy away from their memory. They'd want us to rejoice in our similarities, want us to celebrate our own survival and be proud of being able to give a continued support and source of happiness to the people they had to leave behind.
We're bound to miss them, but we shouldn't mourn them forever.
Our present can't be spent with them, nor can our future, but our past was. That matters. Don't cling to the past, let it stay there, and try to accept that things change. We loose people in many ways... it hurts more when you know you'll never have the chance to make new memories with that person... but that doesn't mean the memories we have of them should hurt.

Remember, you love and are loved so much.


Blessed Be xx

What dreams may come

I have this recurring dream. It follows me through the day.
It started after I watched The Crazies.

In the dream we're driving down big open roads, so big that I know we're in America. The people in the car change from dream to dream, but there's always four of us, and one of the people with me is always Li.

We get to this cute little town, which may as well be deserted for all the people we can see, and decide to stop for gas (yes, gas - we're in America after all). What happens next changes from time to time, but the same pattern always arises. The other two people (normally a boy and a girl) wander around the gas station as Li fills up, and I end up touching a local person. Sometimes the guy behind the counter touches my hand as I pay for our snacks and the fuel; sometimes a woman hands me a baby. Which ever occurs, my skin makes contact with theirs and everything changes.

My vision is pulled in a totally impossible direction. It's as if I look to the distance without looking away from the persons face; like time shifts under me and suddenly I see a platoon of soldiers and cars storming up the road in a haze of summer heat. My vision pulls me above to an impossible height and I see the people of the town not looking perplexed, or angry... they don't look like anything. They're like plague victims who are unsure how to die. Then the shooting starts and my vision pulls back to the skin touching my hand.

I'm infected.

It's so clear to me that I feel numb with shock. I'm about to die.
Whether this pandemic kills or not, I'm soon to die. And worse, if my friends stay much longer - if they touch me, or anyone else - they'll die. Even if I keep them from contact they'll be mown down, caught in the crossfire. Treated like an infected townie.

That's when I feel the world collapse.
Because I have to stay here, and get my friends to safety... but how?
Who would believe my vision?

Li is strolling towards me, smiling but confused by my expression (or sometimes the child in my arms) and I know he's about to hug me to cheer me up.
I back away from him quickly. The hurt in his eyes is almost not worth saving his life. If this will save him. I figure I have a day at most before they get here.

"Woah, what's up?" he asks, raising his hands in a gesture of peace or surrender.

"Don't touch me." I almost cry. The words are like a slap across his face. We have just been snuggled up in the back of the car talking about what to do when we finish our road trip and head home. Now I'm backing away from him telling him not to touch me. But I can't back down. Not if there's a chance he'll survive.

"Lauren, what's wrong?" he asks, stepping closer; hands still raised to shoulder height as if he were facing down a gunman. Something that could become very real, very quickly if I don't get them out of here. But the more panicked I act, the more he's going to want to hold and comfort me. This is a nightmare.

"Please... there's not much time. You have to go." This shocks him so much he drops his hands.

"We have to go, you mean." He says, perplexed and upset. He's so frustrated his eyes are going bluer.

"Yes, all of you. You have to get in the car now and go. Fast." I'm working it out in my head as I give him the instructions, picturing their get away in my mind. They'll be stopped, of course they'll be stopped - but they wont just shoot them. They'll ask where they've been, if they stopped, if they got out of the car... maybe even if they had the windows up. Do they suspect it's airborne? I know it isn't - don't ask me how - I just know.

"No, Lauren. We. As in, there are four of us - and that includes you." He's speaking slowly, as if I'm stupid, as if I've lost my mind. Maybe I have lost my mind.

"I can't come with you. It's too late." I know I'm talking in riddles, but my brain is whirring through possibilities, alibis, scenarios - and normally Li is so much in my brain he knows what I'm thinking before I do. But he didn't just see what I did, so it's no wonder he looks about ready to tear his hair out.

"What the hell are you on about??" he practically yells. I step back to make sure he can't grab me and try to shake some sense into me. Our skin might touch. He thinks he's scared me and instantly lowers his tone, stepping closer "Loreal, what's going on? Talk to me!" he pleads into my eyes, his voice soft and sad.

The unspoken "What have I done?" lingers in his eyes.
Oh, if only! If only this were something we could fix with a hug!

"Li, there's... I..." the words don't make sense in my head. "You trust me, don't you?" I finally plump for. "You trust my instincts, and... and... you believe in me right?"
I'm grasping at straws here, but I know he'll acquiesce to this at least.

"Yeah..." he replies slowly, trying to follow my thought pattern - which is so jumbled I'm struggling to keep track of it.

"Well... I need you to trust and believe me now. I need you to get them and get in the car, and drive away - fast - as far as you can. I need you to promise me..." my words falter as he steps even closer. I know better than to step back this time. If I do he'll grab me for sure.

"Lauren, what happened?" he asks. His hand raises towards my face and I grab his arm through his coat to stop him. Please let it only transfer skin to skin! I think furiously as I hold his almost limp arm away from me, pushing it slowly and gently back to him whilst trying to watch both his hands. If he grasps my hand we're screwed - because I can't let him pass this on... but I can't let him die either...

"Li, I'm sick." I say, trying to make my voice soft and honest. "Everyone in this town is sick. I saw it. They're coming to fix it though. They're going to... and if you're here they'll take you down too." My mind is flying through images of him being shot, run over, blown up - every scenario makes me want to cry "And if you touch me you'll be sick too."

"Don't be silly..." He says comfortingly, trying once more to stroke my cheek. I grasp both his arms this time to be sure. I push them to his sides and hold him there.

"Li... God Li I wish I were wrong - I hope I'm wrong... but if I am you can come back, you see? You can come back in say... four days time... and if I was wrong, if I'm wrong, you can come get me and call me a silly fish, and be mad at me for making you worry... you can lock me in the loony bin for all I care! But please - what if I'm right?" The torrent falls out of my mouth unbidden. "What if I'm right and this whole town is about to be wiped from the earth with us along with it? What if I'm really so contagious that you touching me will kill you slowly too? What if my vision was real?"
The word vision has his eyes widening as he starts to understand my train of thought. The cogs click into place and he starts analysing my theory.

"But... Lauren... it's just-"

"Don't you dare! Li - Don't you dare say it isn't real!" I'm practically in tears now. "You can't pick and choose times for this to be real! You can't talk to spirits and astral project when you want to have a bit of magic in your life, then discount a vision when it comes!"

His eyes are watering too, and he shakes his head. The words are caught up somewhere as he swallows the tears down again.
"But, it can't be right... and even if it is I can't leave you." he manages to say. His voice hardens and he adds "I wont leave you."
I can see his resolution forming, but I need time to work out how to break it.
"I told you before - if the apocalypse happens, there's no one else I want to be holding hands with than you. We live together, we die together."

"But this isn't the apocalypse!" I cry - can't he see that? "This is just an epidemic. This is just me dying. You don't have to! You can live. You have to live! I won't let you die! I wont!"

"Oh, and I'm just supposed to let you die?!" he yells, loosing his composure. "I'm supposed to leave you here to die!? NO! I wont!"

Some how his arms are now on mine instead of me holding his. But it's through coats still, so hopefully he's still safe. Still immune. He holds me just below the shoulders and I can't meet his eyes for a second. I know I would never leave him to die alone - but I still need him to live.

My chin raises as I sniff away the tears "You have to. You have to save them. Only you can do it Li. You have to get them out of here. It's our duty."
I lay a heavy emphasis on the word duty, hoping he'll remember his ever quoted saying "Duty is heavier than a mountain, death as light as feather."
I see the pain cross his face.

"They'll be ok. We'll explain. We'll say we want to stay here alone for a few days..." but he's not sure either.

"What about when they're stopped by a patrol and they say 'Oh yeah, we stopped in that town, had a look around... left our friends there actually. Gonna go pick 'em up in a couple days'... how long would they live then?" How I wish he had an answer for that. How I wish we could explain and be believed... so that I don't have to face this alone. I've always been scared of dying alone. I never thought I'd have to face it so soon.
Still, dying alone is a small price to pay if it means the person dearest to me gets to live.

He looks down at me with eyes so big you could fit the entire universe in them.
"Come with us." He whispers. "We'll pretend we've never been here..."

I shake my head. Too risky.
"I might infect you - or them - or everyone we ever meet. And even if I didn't if we were checked by the patrol for any symptoms and I had one we'd all die. Safety precaution. They'd know we lied anyway." I'd already thought of that.

"But..." he's trying desperately to find something. "But can't we just..." he looks around at all the buildings "And all these people... is there nothing...?"
No, there's nothing we can do. Too late. Like I said before.
I just look at him with regret in my eyes, knowing he'll come to the same conclusion and not like it one bit.

"Save who you can. Before it's too late." I tell him, placing my hands on his chest gently and pushing slightly. It's so hard not to cling onto him. I want him to hold me while I cry, I want him to tell me it isn't real, and that we can keep going on this road trip and still act out our plans... but we both know that can't happen. He lets go and steps away slightly. He's careful not to touch my hands.

"We can't even hug goodbye..." he whispers, still sounding like he's about to cry. It's not quite a statement, not quite a question, and it makes me want to cry.
No. We can't even have that final comfort. Too risky.
I can't kiss him goodbye, can't hug him... can't even shake his hand! That's the real torture.
"I'll come back." he says, determined. "I'll come back for you."

"Four days." I tell him. "Not before. Understand?"

He frowns in frustration. "Is that when...?"
I shake my head.
"That's when it'll be safe." I explain.

"How long?" he asks. I so wish I could lie and tell him I don't know.
I can't get the words out anyway, so I hold up a single finger, unable to look at anything but his feet. I hear the gasp that sounds like he's had the wind knocked out of him.
No, my mind whispers You can't save me... in answer to his internal question. Not enough time to get them safe and come back for me before... everything...

The others are starting to come back. I touch his arm through his coat.
"I love you."
Then I'm running. The others wont refrain from touching me like Li managed to. I have to get away, and hope Li will do as I asked, and cover for me.

I hope he's smart enough to tell them I got out after this god forsaken place and probably walked back to it. Hope he's smart enough to keep the windows rolled up so they can't expect them of air born transfer. Hope anyone who stops them doesn't shoot first and ask questions later.

The dream shifts then, and I'm stood on the street with the towns folk. Some are grey and haggard - they look like they're about to go savage and maul the oncoming soldiers - others are pink and scared. Not as far along as the others. A little girl is near me, she's crying and hasn't been able to find anyone she knows - but now she's too scared to move.
I can't work out why they aren't shooting yet.
The little girls tears are silent, but I still can't help bending and picking her up. She clings to me for her life, and I wish with all my heart I could save her. She must be six, maybe seven - the same age as my youngest niece. I hold her to me and rock her. She doesn't need to die scared at least.

One of the soldiers has a tannoy of some kind - his voice comes booming towards us in a broken distortion that makes the girl whimper and hide into my shoulder. My hand strokes her hair and I shush her gently. They're giving us orders - telling us to line up or something - I can't make it out. My instant thought is of concentration camps. Why else would they not be shooting?
But it's pretty clear that they're simply herding us to where things will be more easily contained. We end up in a large football pitch, and the hysteria is starting to build.
The little girl is taken from me by a young man, who she squeals with recognition at. Her brother I'd guess. He thanks me with his eyes, unable to say a word. He's shaking in a thin vest top, though I can't tell whether it's from cold or fear. His eyes tell me he knows, as well as I do, that we aren't going to live through this.

A soldier marches next to me as we file through the streets towards the football ground, and, unburdened, I ask him "Are we to be screened, or is infection control to be total?"
I somehow manage to ask him calmly, like another officer - like a soldier in arms.

"Sorry ma'am, the orders are for total infection control." He actually does look sorry as he looks at me. I've crossed my arms behind my back to try and control myself better, and have forced my chin to stay up. I nod once, curtly.
"Yes sir."

"Are you from the forces?" he asks, the address clearly implying more than I had intended. It makes me smile. I suppose the British accent and upright posture in a crowd of scared, cowering people makes me seem more rigid and ready for war.
"No, sir." I admit, turning to look at him with a small grin. I'm surprised to see he's probably as old as me, if that. Good looking, but young and maybe a little scared. "I didn't even get into the cadets if I'm honest sir."

This makes him smile too. He's too young to really be called sir, but the respect for others that my parents always instilled in me makes it hard not to call any man of undetermined age "sir" - though perhaps I'm clipping it a little short since he's army.
"Could have fooled me." he says, shrugging his gun a little higher. I realise for the first time that none of them are wearing gas masks. They don't believe it to be an airborne pathogen. That's good - it gives Li and the others more of a chance.

"To be fair, I'm not from around here. I probably just threw you off with my accent sir." I smile again, thinking of Li and the others safe and sound. It's easy to make banter with the man about to kill you when you know your friends are safe. "Don't even know the name of this town if I'm honest."

"Where you from?" he asks, clearly not minding the chat himself. I wonder if there are many people who would talk in such a friendly manner to him considering the task at hand. Grim, is the way I would describe the look on the soldiers around hims faces. Scared, angry, confused faces look up from my side of the crowd. Our voices are lost in the grumble and sound of the massing crowd. Every street we pass increases our number. We're being herded like sheep.

"England." I tell him "The midlands..." I trail off trying not to think of my family. What will they think? How will Li explain? Will they understand? Will they forgive him?
An accident. They'll call it an accident. I got out of the car and wouldn't come back. They tried to get me to get back in the car - but I'm so stubborn. They just left me for an hour or so to cool down...
Creating alibi's seems to be my new talent.

He whistles. "Long way from home. Damn, what a piece of shit luck this is for you." His tone makes it sound like I've had some inconvenience on my trip, rather than have managed to get stuck somewhere I'm bound to loose my life.
No point crying over spilt milk though.
I shrug.
"Oh well, always did have bad timing." I say, trying to shrug it off with a bit of nonchalance.

He frowns then. I see it from the corner of my eye.
"I'm so sorry." He says after a moment. He seems genuinely depressed. "If there was someway..."
I nod, trying not to get emotional. It's a thank you, and he understands. I can't thank him for caring - it's his obligation as a person - but I can't hate him for having such a difficult job to do. It's a shit place to be in for either of us.
After a moment I regain my composure and manage to smile at him, though I can't take the sadness out of it. He returns it.

"Private Sanders." he says, almost holding out his hand for me. Those hands aren't gloved though and I stare at it briefly before he removes it, cursing at his stupidity.
I half laugh.
"If you're gonna go around doing that, at least wear gloves." I say "That's how I got in this mess."

He blushes slightly. It makes me smile.

"Citizen Bland," I reply after all thought of touching one another has abated. "You can call me Lauren if you feel the need though."

Part of me realises that I shouldn't be talking to this man. This man is about to stand back in a line with all the other soldiers here and kill an entire towns worth of people. Better for both of us to have no sympathy for the other. Well, better for him if he can see us as something other than people. Maybe he's realising this too, because he becomes quiet.

"Hey, you know how you said if you could... you know..." I start up, dropping the formality of 'sir' now that we know each others names. He looks at me briefly as if scared I'm about to ask him to help me escape. The fear seems more that he might consider it - which is an odd feeling. "If you could help..." I manage.
He looks at me sideways and nods slightly.
"Could you make it quick?" I ask. It has just occurred to me this is the only chance I'll get to beg for that mercy. If I can't have this life, I'd at least like to end it with as little pain as possible.
His eyes go slightly rounder for a moment. Then he nods curtly again.
"Thank you Private Sanders."
I stop glancing at him and start scanning the crowd. It's getting bigger and bigger - who would have thought this many people would be in a town this size.
That's when I see him.

I'd recognise that hair on those tall shoulders anywhere. His head is whipping around, eyes searching for a person he recognises. Not quite moving with the flow, but not quite struggling against it yet. My world crumbles.

He's supposed to be safe. He's supposed to live. Why is he here?

Without thinking I dive through the crowd towards that beacon of black hair. All thought of Private Sanders and his promise of a quick death evaporating.
I don't bother shouting, because he wouldn't be able to hear me. The closer to the center of this mass of bodies I get the louder the babble becomes. The river of people doesn't quite part for me, but everyone is looking for someone, and everyone makes allowances for a girl running fixedly into the centre of the crowd.
I get to him and touch his arm through the same coat he was wearing when he left.
He doesn't notice in the crush, and I squeeze his arm.

He turns to look at me, skimming over my face in a distracted manner, before doing a double take and turning to look at me fully. As he turns his arms go round me and he drags me to him.

"I couldn't leave you." he says in my ear. "I had to come back."
I hit him, hard, on the shoulder and call him an idiot, and a fool, and as many names as I can think of with a single breath.

"You're supposed to be safe!" I cry, unable to pull away from him as the crowd sweeps us along. My feet are barely touching the floor "You're supposed to live so that this isn't all in vain!"

"Loreal, do you think I'd let you do this on your own?" The tears in my eyes are sparkling, making him look unearthly. "You're my best friend - stupid. We face these things together or not at all."

Slowly the crowd stops, everyone is vying for a spot as far from the gunmen as possible and we get pushed to the edge of the crowd, still holding hands tighter than ever before.
Tonight, we face our death. There's no one I'd rather be holding hands with as I look out at that sea of darkness, knowing that death is coming - soon. My only regret is not saving him.
I trust him to have got the others safe... but why could the silly boy not stay with them.
Four days I told him. Four. Not one. Four.
I should have told him they would be here in three days. He wouldn't have rushed back then. He would have made a plan. It would have given him the time to miss all of this.

"There's no one I'd rather be holding hands with right now." he whispers in my ear, echoing my thoughts.
I want to tell him I'd rather he'd stayed the hell away and lived like I'd commanded him to, but I can't.
"I always hoped I'd spend the rest of my life with you..." I say "I only wish it had lasted a little longer."

We hear the guns raised, and the screaming starts, the running and thudding into each other, the trying to get away. Li and I step forwards away from it. With him here, I'm not afraid. I don't even mind if Private Sanders isn't the one in front of me, the one promising a quick death. The fencing is heaving behind us as people claw at it, trying to escape. We hear trucks hiss as the stop right against them. People scream as the metal crushes the fingers they have trapped between truck and fence.

I always thought I'd want to close my eyes when death came, but now I don't want to look away.
Bring it on. part of me thinks. One of us shivers - maybe both of us do - and we step closer together, arms going around one another wishing we could protect each other from what's coming. But both of us remain looking out into that darkness as we hear the safety click of a hundred guns.
"To die would be a very big adventure." I say into the darkness, realising we two stand alone between a sea of hysteria and a wall of necessity.
"Then lets go adventure together." Li replies.



That's where the dream ends. Sometimes we're about to be toasted by flame throwers, and sometimes he doesn't come back and I stand alone against the darkness happily, knowing he's safe. Sometimes we don't die - something magical protects us... but always, always, I face this dark death head on, without fear.
It makes me hope that one day I'll be able to do that. Not cower from my death, as lots of people do, but embrace it (when necessary) and accept it with my head held high. Life is not eternal, it doesn't last - we all must die. I just hope to do it with a little dignity is all.

I would call this recurring dream a nightmare, but there's no real fear in it. There's sadness at the loss, and anger at the injustice it always seems to incur... but no fear. Maybe I need to develop a nice healthy fear of death... but it seems so pointless. Who wants to spend their last moments on this earth in fear? I'd rather spend them thinking about the good times, the great people I've shared this life with, and the things I achieved - rather than be scared of the pain or what comes next, rather than regret things or start missing people.
Regret, I have learnt, is the mother of all fuckups. Not assumption (although it's probably the father of them all) but the regret we feel about things that can't be changed. I think I hate regret so much because it's unproductive. Assumption can be productive or counter-productive. Regret is just a burden.

If you can, take this little advice and let go of that regret.
Let go of long held prejudices and resentments.
Forget the grudges, and the pains others cause you.
Even if you can't forgive (either yourself or others) at least don't dwell on what you think are mistakes. Because they're as much what make you who you are as the things you got right. Try to simply learn from your actions, and not analyse them in painful scrutiny till they're etched in deep welts on your heart. All you'll do is hurt yourself by holding onto pain or anger.

For now, be happy in all you can, and look for hope in all you can't.


Blessed Be xx

And melt your cold, cold heart

It's so cold. I know everyone keeps saying it now that the snow is here - and normally I love the cold - but right now, at 4:30 in the morning, while I'm tucked into bed trying to finish my work before the deadline at 12pm it's COLD and I just want to be a little tiny bit warmer so... you know... I could maybe feel my fingers? Would making typing my essay sooooo much easier!

It's stupid that the first, and only real thought I'm having is "It's COLD!!" I mean, I'm a winter baby - I go out in the snow in just a t-shirt and jeans and am quite comfortable. I go swimming in the river at 3am in November and am so happy about it (though admittedly the feeling in my feet does have a tendency to disappear...) So why do I need to complain that it's cold right now?
It doesn't make all that much sense.

I guess part of it is to do with missing sharing a bed these days. I mean, sharing a single bed under a double duvet gets roasty toasty warm (and is pretty darn unbearable for someone like me in the summer) - so when it gets cold in my gigantic double bed lately I have a tendency to crave a body to snuggle up to and get warm. I could do with a human sized hot-water-bottle at times... then I could kick it out of bed when I got too warm instead of move carefully away from someone while trying not to wake them up. Something I've probably had far too much practice at in all fairness.

I don't know what it is lately that's made me feel so lonely at nights. Maybe it's because I'm spending practically every waking moment with at least one of my friends. Maybe it's because I've finally stopped having a 'partner'. Maybe it's because everything I see lately is about love... I don't really know. All I know is that I always said this bed was two big for just me, and now I'm wishing I'd been wrong.

Luckily I have an awesome friend who lets me sneak into his bed when it gets too much to face. He puts up with my weird 'overheating' sleeping habits of snuggling too close when cold and moving away to basically hug the wall when warm. How on earth he sleeps at all when I steal his bed I don't know - come to think of it I'm not sure he does sleep those nights. Poor, sweet guy. I'll pay him back in bacon.

Well, I haven't posted a blog in a while (for me at least) mainly because I wrote one and then deliberated for about a week as to whether to post it or not. So far it's deemed as too personal, but you never know what this crazy lady might post - so you might get (un)lucky and stumble across it later. This one is only being written because I'm cold and supposed to be writing an essay... well, that and I just read my friend Jodie's blog and got thinking about loneliness and love and friendships. See, there was this diary entry I wrote years ago (before I knew my now bestfriend) and what she said just really reminded me of it; and since I'm in a procrastinating mood I've dug it out to share it with you:

"   I expect to find out it's all fake sometimes. The feelings, the words, the love. I'm scared it's not real. I'm so scared of it falling out under my feet. Sometimes the idea of this ever ending seems stupid though.
   Like on the bus home today as I curled up next to Luke thinking about soulmates. I realised that there are some people you just recognise in your soul. Some of those people live close, others further away than seems possible.
  You fall inlove with one or even two of these people, and they become the one you call 'soulmate'; the others become the best friends you will ever have, and stay with you forever - if only in your heart.
  There are some people who come into your lives for better, others for worse, but all of them make you who you are.                   "

It's hard to look back and remember that realisation sometimes. Hard to be able to separate the types of love without separating the depths of feelings. I guess because I found someone who I have deeper feelings for than anyone I've ever known, who I respect and care for in ways that leave words empty and hollow. The feelings that don't seem able to stop growing continue to surprise me day after day.
You see, you fall in-love with a person and you think "omigosh, this is the most you could possibly ever love someone!"... then you find someone that you connect with on such a deep level and the feelings you have for them grow exponentially until you're sure they'll peter off... but they don't. Okay, they don't grow at the same rate, they start to creep along in this gentle way that makes the progress almost unnoticeable, but it still keeps going. Even after you think your heart will break, or collapse, or explode with the amount of love you have for that person it keeps getting bigger. The feelings you have for the person you were inlove with don't go away though, it's more like they seem insignificant by comparison. How can you be inlove with one person when you love another so much more? Surely you were mistaken the first time.

But the truth is, you weren't mistaken. You really did love that person more than the world... it's just that you found a person you recognised more. A person who you loved more than the universe. The comparison makes it hard to remember you aren't inlove with this new person at times though. Or maybe you are in love... who knows? Show me the difference between the two that isn't purely lust, and I'll show you soulmates that aren't inlove.

Oh, I don't know what I'm talking about anymore. I'm so wrapped up in an analogy of an analogy that I've snared myself in an enigma!
See, this is the real problem with writing a blog after submerging oneself in feminism for too many hours this early in the morning. You begin to loose a grip on the boundaries between love, desire, sex and gender. You start to think so theoretically that every honest feeling is obscured (even from yourself) in layers of intertextuality and theories of phallogocentrism or patriarchy. After all, the only reason we believe in soul mates is because patriarchy dictates there is a man out there for you with whom you should settle down and have children who we can further indoctrinate... oh dear, I've been at it too long.

Also, you start referring to yourself as 'you' as if you're some kind of plural audience... though what with my split personalities I probably do make up a large majority of my own audience, so that's okay.

Did I mention it's cold?

I'm afraid I've caught a cold lately as well. I'm going to be great at filming tomorrow - sleep deprived and full of a cold... best not give me the boom mic, no one will want to talk in case I come to close to them with the fluffy thing and my cough.


I have lots of congratulations to be giving out too - because if you can't give a shout out on your blog, you must be living in some kind of 'BigBrother' state (the controlling kind, not the terrible reality TV kind).
Big congratulations to my big sister - now expecting her fifth baby ^_^ hope this pregnancy goes better than the last 4!!
Huge ma-hu-sive congratulations to Libor for getting an interview for St Georges in London. Soon be Dr. Hurt now!!
Also congrats to Li for landing his own radio show (after a whole 2hours of broadcasting - jammy devil!)
Belated congratulations to Kevin for getting Head of Marketing - though we all kinda knew he would... best man for the job if you ask me (which no one did, but hey)
Oh, and a big shout out to Dan who is definitely on the road to recovery. Much love to you hun.

Well, this has been the most Un-Lauren blog I've written so far... but oh well!

I'm gonna end this little ramble with some thoughts on a conversation I had with Jodie. We were talking about innocence and what makes a person innocent or pure.
There comes a point in your life where you have to look at yourself and go "yeah, I'm totally not innocent anymore..." and decide whether it was worth it or not, and whether it's a good thing or not. I'd like to say this perspective comes with age, but for some people they don't loose that innocence for a long time, and for others it evaporates at a young age. So while a lot of people get to 20 and can go "purity? lost that ages ago!" not everyone can.
But what do we mean by innocence or purity?
Is it linked with virginity? If so, does that mean a persons personality changes dramatically after their first sexual experience?
We couldn't decide on what either really meant, though I ended up with the idea that to be innocent or pure you have to be 'blameless'. I mean, looking at the law, you're innocent until proven guilty, but you have to be 'not-guilty' (aka blameless) in order to be innocent. You don't even plead innocent in this country; you plead not-guilty. Does that mean Americans (who plead innocent) believe the word to mean simply not-guilty? Does it mean someone who is on trial can be truly innocent?
What do we mean by blameless though? Blameless of what? Or in what case? Pertaining to what??
I think in my mind purity is to do with being blameless of bad thoughts. In other words never wishing anyone harm, never having particularly perverted ideas... basically never thinking about sex or violence. It's a form of naivety that I think we all loose pretty early on in life (basically when we learn about the birds and the bees, or when we start being able to hate). Innocence is to do with being blameless of bad actions. So, not hurting people (though play fighting and accidents aren't to be included in this), not being too rude, not being overtly sexual - or at least not being inappropriately sexual - basically acting in a goody-goody moral way. Not many people get to be 20 and can honestly claim this one either. So what's the point in deciding on these premises?
Do being either pure or innocent have any bearing on our lives?

Well... no. They don't.
I'm a firm believer that what counts, and what matters, is who you are and how you act NOW. Not who you were, not what you've done, not where you come from. Your past helps shape you, true, but it doesn't make you who you are. What makes you who you are is how you reflect on your past - on what you deem to be good or bad and how you react. For instance, if in the past you robbed someone, the action doesn't matter anymore so much as what you do now and what you think; so if you think it was fine and continue to rob people that makes you a bad person. If you regret doing it and are always honest now because of it, that makes you a good person. It is our decisions now that matter, our reflections on our actions and the actions of others, and the actions they dictate, that show who you are.

The past may have influenced the present, but it doesn't dictate the future.

I suppose that's why religion doesn't wash with me.
Religion is about being good in order to be rewarded in some kind of afterlife.
It's all about saying that things that happened Milena ago (such as the prophet Muhammad delivering the word of God, Christ dying for our sins, Buddha sitting and working out the world etc) are more important that what's going on now. It's about believing that there's something more than this life that is more important that who we are now and the lives we interact with everyday.
Okay, so my main beef with religion is about there being some infinite being of perfection that is more important than the people I love and care about. A being that knows everything, that is all powerful, that is all present... yet who really really wants me to believe in and 'commune' with it.
And don't get me started on the concept of souls.
Save my eternal soul?? Sure, just as soon as you can explain to me a) what it is b) what it needs saving from c) how you intend to do that, and c) how this isn't a control mechanism - without resorting to the terms 'Hell', 'Grace', or 'Soul' unless you're defining them...
Sorry - mini rant there. I guess I like people to be up front and honest with me, and all religion does is hide behind its own mask of indistinct vocabulary and imagery.
My teacher once said that 'Describing God is like trying to nail jelly to the wall' (D.J. Haslam) and he was right. The subject is so slippery - and purposefully so! - that you're never allowed to understand what anyone means by the word! How can I worship something no one can explain to me? Am I to worship it purely because I don't understand?? Then surely I should worship the super strings of physics too - because I don't understand them either...

How did this get to religion?
I don't know - perhaps I should shush now and get back to copying up this dissertation chapter. Imelda gave me an extension... so why oh why did I let myself get distracted and not do it before now?
I'm terrible when it comes to my degree. I'd much rather organise everyone at DemonTV, or help out at DemonFM.
Hopefully next year I'll have a third-rate job to tide me over while I focus on things that matter to me instead of this forced learning. I mean, I'd write reviews for a paper or something... but me and deadlines aren't friends all of the time, I'd be scared of letting people down.

I mean, it'd be awesome to move in with my best mate next year, get a job in whatever city we ended up in and spend my spare time writing stories and recording my music. Though in all honesty I'd be wanting to save up constantly so that I could afford an MA and then a PHD... then start over with Maths maybe... or physics.... maybe even Law. Law could be fun. Thing is, right now all I know about my future is that a) I can't afford an MA next year, and b) I don't wanna be away from my best friend for more than the few months of summer.
I suppose the only things holding me back are my nieces wanting to spend more time with me, and not knowing if I'd be wanted in a student house next year.

Oh well, time will tell.

Till next time,

Blessed Be xx