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

Dearly Beloved...

Have you ever been told that you act like a married couple with someone?

If you're actually married to that person, stop looking at me like I'm speaking gibberish, because you're not who I'm talking about.

I'm talking about when you're so close to a friend that everyone comments that you're practically married.
Now, I suppose they have a point in some respects. Like the telling each other off for silly things they do and the lack of sex... but really...

Okay, so by now (if you know anything about me at all) you'll have worked out that this is going to be a rant about my best friend Libor.

Yes, we get treated like a couple... constantly. Yes, we've been told we're a married couple (even by each other)... far too often. So what makes a couple different to a friendship??
This is the real question buzzing round my head.

Obviously if you're talking about an actual couple, there's the mutual agreement between two people that you're 'together'. But how do we classify it from the outside? How do we make the assumptions that two people are not just friends.

It's really odd the assumptions you make through the day though. Deciding who you want to be friends with on the pure assumptions you form from what they look like or what they wear. Who they talk to, or how. How often they answer their phone. So what is it that we notice between two people when they walk down the street that screams 'we're together!' then?
Is it when they link arms? Or hold hands?
Or is there something more about how they walk? How they gravitate towards one another?

Sometimes it feels as though me and Li move together, around each other... Like we're connected in some way, moving because of each other. Like there's this weird pull... I dunno how to explain it.
There'll be times where we'll be sat somewhere and one of us will move unconsciously so that the other is more comfortable. Or will reach for something that hasn't been asked for and give it to the other person.

We jokingly say that we're in each others brains. It does get to the point where we know what each other are thinking at times. Answering thoughts aloud instead of having to have them voiced first. Finishing each others sentences. Explaining each other to people who haven't followed the thought process. Knowing stuff about each other without having to ask.
It's as if we're hyper aware of each other; noticing minute changes and understanding what they mean. Noticing when they like something else, or change a habit. When they smile in a certain way understanding the emotion and what sparked it... it's scary. It's like knowing someone as well as you know yourself.

But why does everyone say that makes us coupley?
Does that not just make us really good friends?
Part of me thinks it's because we're both single and of opposite sex.

You know what I've just realised?? My blogs are starting to sound more and more like his... I'm about ready to run away in fear.
It's odd how much you become like someone when you spend time withe them. You retain your core... but the peripherals become more and more like each other. It's like you start to mirror each other.
Maybe that's what we recognise in couples? Their mirroring of each other.

My mum once told me that she did an exercise in college where they had to pair up photos of people who they thought were married. What she found interesting was how similar certain people looked - especially if they had been married for very long. It's as though they became more and more of a mirror of one another as the years progressed.

I think that's one of the weirdest parts of friendship though. The way you soak up each others gestures and sayings; their little quirks begin to be your own. The way someone does something becomes an inside joke or a convenient way to express a feeling or situation.
I think the thing that made me notice it the most is the way in which our personalities seem to have been tempered by each other in this case. For instance, his positivity and optimism has worn off on me (I even got told off for reiterating one of the sentiments in an old blog post of his which I'd initially disagreed with the other day) while my protectiveness and honesty is rubbing off on him.
Think I got the better end of the deal on that one !

One of our friends always says "Never a Lauren without a Libor", and lately it's been true. But part of me is worried that we're going to start annoying each other soon. I mean, I've never had someone so close to me before... but the people I have had close (boyfriends mostly) have always ended up getting on my nerves sooner or later. Not to mention I know that he likes his space...
I think what worries me the most is that the more we're treated like a couple the more we act like one... the less likely either of us are to get an actual partner.
I suppose I shouldn't worry about it though. The end of this academic year will be a decider in many things, best to let things run their course I suppose and enjoy them as they come.

This year, this shiny glittery year, is the last in an era. Perhaps that's why I'm squeezing as much enjoyment out of it as I can. Lets face it, next year is when we have to enter the real world again. Jobs. Work. Bills. Boredom. Loss of student-discount status (right when I've finally found out where they give the student discounts). Settling down. Choosing a career. Probably back to sunny (read scummy) old Grantham.
Next year will be the one without my other half... learning to live without a limb... living with a missing beat to my heart. It's gonna be so strange, and probably very hard too. But if that's what comes next, then that's what we'll deal with. It's inevitable that all of us - all our friends that we have now - will grow apart over time. Doing such different things in such different places... and lets face it, I'm not great at staying in contact with people...
So I suppose that's the real source of my unease. I'm scared of the 'husband and wife' status that I have with Libor because I'm scared of loosing it.
That makes so little sense it's silly!

Like my friend Dan was saying the other day, there's no point getting into a relationship now because it'll turn into a long distance thing far too soon... so what's the point in getting this close to someone if it's only to be ripped apart in 6months time?
It's really hard sometimes, to look at my closest friends - Jodie, Libor, Dan - and think that in a few months I may not see them again except for sporadically. It means two things.
1) I need to learn to keep in contact better
2) I need a set of wheels!
My new years resolution will be to save enough money to do my Direct Access (bike test) and get that bike in Mum and Dad's back yard sorted out so I can ride it properly. A job to pay for it. That way I can blast up to see them any time I miss them too much.
Lets face it, if things continue this way I'm going to spend a hell of a lot of time blasting from (I'm guessing London) to Leicester and Halifax... working as little as I can afford to just so I can spend all my time with the people I love like family.
I suppose I'll stay with my parents for awhile until things calm down enough, and I have a good idea of where I want to live and work.

My head is so full of the future right now...
It's as though I can't stop looking at those paths that are spreading off in a million different directions.
Ones leading to a factory, a job that I can't stand, living in Grantham for far too long after this year.
Ones leading to London, or Derby, or wherever Libor ends up going; following like a puppy in his sure footsteps.
Ones that lead to Leicester, a job that barely pays for my rent while I write and play at being a student with Jodie.
Ones that lead abroad, to some odd hopeful prospect of something more...
Ones leading to an MA that I can't afford, living in debt for longer and longer...

All I can truly see is that I'll only be happy if I'm writing. That's what I've realised I want more than anything. I want to write.
I was thinking about going into medicine like Kaydie and Li... but I realised what I more long for is the idea of studying medicine. The idea of researching genetics.
I want to be the one who peruses the edges of the world of knowledge, understanding what I can and turning it into stories. I want to be the one sat at home typing away on chapter after chapter; handing out bits of story to my friends to see what they think.
To be published! Oh! To be published would be wonderful!!

So there we have it. No matter what I do I'll be sat at my laptop tapping away, creating odd little scenarios, living them out in my mind and putting them into words. Re-writing them, playing them out in more depths. Learning to love the characters I don't yet know, giving each person a depth that matches that of a friend...
I'm looking forward to those early novels that are terrible terrible replications of my own experiences and relationships, and how the next ones will evolve, grow - and so allow me to grow into something more like a true writer.

The thing is, I don't see how I'll do it without my best friend at my side, supporting and cajoling me the whole way. Reading with awe even the worst of my writing, poking fun at my characters, laughing at the jokes no one else could possibly get, dragging me away from the computer when I've spent far too many hours absorbed in my stories, keeping me on track with questions of 'what next??'...
It's hard to imagine even being me without him though; so it's no wonder that I can't picture being a successful writer version of me without him.

Odd how you spend your life being so independent, only to find that after two years of growing closer and closer to someone you no-longer find a distinction between yourself and them, and you become almost wholly dependant on them. Their views, their actions, their caring, all of it means so much that you can't live without them.
After 10 years of being as independent as a girl can be, managing to keep that self-dependence through countless relationships, to find it almost entirely disappeared now is a very strange experience. To find yourself wondering 'what would they think' at almost every turn; thinking not 'what does that look like' but 'what would they think that looks like'...
I'll be honest, being infatuated is nothing to this level of inexplicable consideration. Perhaps we really are like a married couple... less in the idea of a couple, but more in the idea of a depth of caring and knowing for and of one another. To be fair, if I had to choose a person to spend my entire life with it would be him without question.

I'm afraid this blog post has made very little sense.
I don't quite know what I've said, or what I meant to say... so I invite you to attempt to wander through my though processes and I congratulate you heartily if you have managed to follow them with any level of understanding. I'm not sure I've understood any of it.

For now I'm going to go write some fiction. Hopefully it'll be better written than this has been.


Blessed Be xx

Things you stumble upon!

I've just found an old blog of mine from waaaay back in secondary school. It's mostly filled with silly poems and random writings, but feel free to take a look ^_^

Lollypoprocks

Other than that, I'm just working on being me.

Got some books to get read, some presents to form from thin air, and some good laughs to be had.
Hope your life is coming along swimmingly ^_^

(longer, more rambley posts to come soon, don't worry lol)


Blessed Be xx

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