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