The time has come, the walrus said...

Bite the bullet. It's time. You have to do this. 

I take a deep breath and hold it. The words have to come out with this next breath, and I can't find them yet. It's as if they get lost in the tumble of thoughts. I look at him, and that familiar unfathomable swirl of emotions starts in my belly. Hate, revulsion, desire, love, sympathy... they get mixed in with the thoughts. Memories of hurting each other, of loving each other, of shared looks, of laughing, of kissing... they flood me for a second and I nearly loose my nerve.

Concentrate!

"You should stay away from me." That's the best I can muster? I feel like a Cullen replication.
"All I do is hurt you..." I try, a torrent of disagreements comes my way "Well, use you then..." I try again.

I have to fight the tears as he says "Fine, I'll go then!" Have to hold my hands firmly at my side to stop myself from reaching out to stop him. Have to bite my tongue to stop from calling him back. The door slams behind him and I finally let myself break down. The tears splattering against the floor, sobs racking through my body.

We weren't even going out - why do I have to end up breaking up with someone I'm not dating?? That doesn't make sense...
But how can I tell my friends? I've spent all this time convincing them we aren't an item, never going to be an item... and then I need consoling after telling him we need to stay apart? How can I tell them, after all this time, that I love the bastard?
How can I tell them that, no matter how much we all dislike him, no matter how much I complain about him, no matter how much of a prick he acts... I love him?
That's been the problem all along. The reason things have never gone right. Not because he can't keep out of my bed as they say, but because I can't help moving to him in that way. I can't help holding him, kissing him, leaning against him. I can't keep just friends cause I feel too much for him.

Yes. I see that things aren't right. I see that we shouldn't be together - even if we do work well together, I'm a wreck with him. Same as before. Same as with Luke. He's negative, we fight all the time (though he always lets me win)... but...
Lets face it, the real reason I can't be with him is he isn't the one. The one is standing there looking at me and saying "I don't really like him... you can do better."
God damn, if it weren't for those perfect eyes looking concern on me I wouldn't care what the world said. I'd enjoy being with him, and tell the rest of the world to go screw themselves.

But there you have it. No matter how much I love the boy who's just walked out in pain, I don't love him as much as him. That so has to change at some point... but I guess not yet.

Give it time...

Till then, I'll just try my best. S'all I can do - right?
And the best I can do right now is end things. Cut the ties and try again.

Blowing my nose, I push away the last of my tears and pick myself up. The sniffling takes longer to cease, but it's time to get on with life.
Like Russell said to me last night "You have to live for now. Not then, not there, not the future - you have to live now. Forget about the sadness of then, and be happy. Don't let people bring you down - they're just on the edges."
Time to live.


Blessed Be xx

If only dreams would come true

He smiles at me; cupping his hand under my chin and, bringing my face gently towards his, whispers "I love you. Always have, always will." 

The words melt, dripping like honey in my ears. My heart thuds in a ridiculous, slow, loud thump, so hard that I think he must have felt it. His other hand snakes round my back, setting the skin there on fire with his touch as I'm pulled inexorably towards him.

The words echo dreamily around my head. "I love you. I love you. I love you." His voice feels like it's everywhere, wrapping me in a blanket so soft I can almost feel its weight.

I try to say it back - but he already knows, and his mouth stops mine with gentle persuasion.

The blanket wraps around us, closer and closer, until it's like there no beginning or end to us. We're laid down in the blanket now, and his strong hands are holding me to him like he never wants to let me go. His hand strokes my hair and I close my eyes, finally feeling at peace with the world. Slowly the feel of his arms fades, and the hand in my hair disappears, and it's time to wake up again, alone - again.

The dream haunts me for weeks. Each time it's slightly different; but every night he holds me in his arms, and tells me he loves me, and every morning it isn't real. It takes a few minutes each time to remember reality, to re-shuffle everything - get it all in its rightful place. The rest of the day spent trying not to think about it. The rest of the night trying not to hope for it to still be real when I close my eyes and drift off to the place where he waits for me.

It's a distraction from everything. I catch myself on the sofa in the kitchen with my eyes closed, trying to remember the feel of his chest against my cheek, the smell of his skin, the taste of his lips. I find myself wearing my biggest hoody so I can snuggle up inside it and pretend his arms are round me. I'm so obsessed with my dream, I forget that I'm not in this loving relationship. Boys continue to flirt with me, and I'm offended. Don't they know I'm in love? Oh wait...

It's just like me to become infatuated with my own creation. If I had been Frankenstein things would have been very strange indeed.

But now I don't know what to do.
Do I confront the feelings? Or let them carry on? Try and forget them?
It's impossible for anything to manifest from it, so it's surely only sensible to force it to stop. But how? You can't just turn your feelings on and off. That's not how they work.

It's a lesson you learn when you're young; one that stays with you through out your life - and I'm having to learn it all over again.
Dreams don't come true.

Hopes and dreams can be fulfilled - but dreams, subconscious plays you act out in your sleep, they can't. They aren't real.

I would attempt an analysis of what the dreams mean, but I already know - already knew before I thought about it - what they're about and why. Anyone who really knew me would understand in a heartbeat. It doesn't matter though - and it never will.

I don't even know why I've posted this... feeling rather weird tonight though, so maybe that's it. Anyway, stay safe


Blessed Be

If you gave a thousand monkeys a thousand typewritters...

... they'd probably break them and have a great time doing it!

It's like if you gave 1000 Laurens 1000 rooms... they'd still end up a mess, cause that's just what I'm like. Though, being ill has made mine into a complete disaster area lately. My bin is overflowing with snotty tissues because it hurts my head to bend down and pick it up to empty it; my clothes are all over the floor because I haven't the energy to sort them out. My books are in heaps around my bed - because lets face it, once I'm done with them I can't actually get out of bed and put them back; who do you think I am??

It's really pathetic if I'm honest, but hopefully if I kick myself up the bum about it enough times, I'll actually get stuck in and sort at least some of it out. Okay, correction - if I can keep kicking myself about it and stay off Plants VS Zombies, I will get it sorted out.

The really annoying thing is, I haven't really been 'well' this term. I caught a cold just as I got to Leicester, and I've been 'nearly over it' several times, and then I get a new incarnation of it! I must be keeping medical shops in business!
Though, I have to admit, the reason this one isn't getting better is because I've given up trying to get better. I pop some 'max strength cold and flu relief' and go out and party. No, I don't know why - but shush.

I suppose it doesn't help that I've been going through a rough patch lately. I have a long standing relationship with depression, so I'm used to the highs and lows that come with being me. Lately it's been rather low though - and the constant arguing with friends, the constant reminders of the ex, the illness and the deadlines have all been really really rubbish.
I kept randomly breaking down - especially to certain songs. Have you heard the one by Eminem and Rhianna - 'Love the Way You Lie'? Well, I thought it was kinda sweet and sad... then I watched the video...




.... and there was so much in it that I couldn't stop thinking about all the times he'd hit something and I'd be so sure he wanted it to be me. Remember his fist go through the wall, remember him practically kicking the door down when I locked him out, remember him accidentally hurting me, remember him saying sorry, promising it'd never happen again, and again, and again...

Now every time I hear that song I nearly break down. His fist is going through that wall closer and closer to my head in the playbacks. I know I'm making it worse by remembering it - because you always remember wrong... but I can't help it.

All those times he'd say "You know I'd never hurt you..." and then do it. The fact he had to change that saying to "You know I'd never hurt you on purpose..."....
... Then Dj goes and says it. Constantly.... Flashback...

All those times we'd play fight, and he'd take it too far, and I'd be nearly crying, trying to shrug him off, push him off, get him to stop...
... Then Li goes and does it. I started play fighting and then tried to stop... and he wouldn't. Didn't get the memo or something... Flashback...

It's like he's broken me, and everything is just a reminder. Makes it hard to have hope. Makes it hard to believe there's a way to have a relationship that isn't like that. Just sex and abuse and familiarity.

My friends don't really get it. They've never been with someone like Luke. Not for that long. They don't get that you blind yourself to the problems, telling yourself it's all normal. Tell yourself that 'true love' is just a story. "This is true love because it's real" you say. Then you meet this guy who looks after you, cares for you, and doesn't ask for anything in return... and you start to question your standards. Is it possible to have someone care for you and you not have to have sex with them in return? Like, Wait... you mean boys can like you and not want to get in your pants??

It's funny, because if you asked me, I couldn't possibly tell you how I developed that attitude. Trying to reverse it isn't all that easy either. But I am trying.
I've made a promise to myself that it's all gonna get better - even if it takes 1000 Laurens trying 1000 times a day... it will get better. It has to. I said so.


Well, that's my embarrassing little tirade over with.
You probably know a little too much about me now... but oh well!


Blessed Be
xx

the greatest amusement in the world

What started as fun, and progressed to love, has become bitter and hatefull.
My fists clench as the message passes before my eyes; new waves of anger crashing over my head.

The words themselves have no real malice or meaning, just the same reiterance of a tired old line that had nothing to do with the conversation to start with.
I'm used to this feeling, but normaly I force it away and let it pass before replying. Today my grip on self control slips and a torrent of hatred pours forth. I blame him for everything - something I've only just realised.
The language becomes littered with swearing and typo's and slang. Every harsh reply I've ever bitten back finds its way into the whirlpool of words, every reply he sends working me further into the fit of pure unadulterated rage.

If we were face to face I would have punched him by now. I let him know that I'm on the brink of coming to his and hitting him.
Somehow it turns into a joke, and all of the anger just dissipates.
I try to grasp at the embers of the burnt out fire that was raging inside me, but it doesn't  even feel warm anymore.
I sigh and log out.

I've never wanted to be angry at someone that much before. Never clung to it like a shield. Part of me knows it's because she would approve of it, and right now I need her approval in something... anything...
My mind wanders back to when everything first started - how things had gone from bad, to worse, to better, to amazing... back to bad.
I remember the blind date that I couldn't go on, and wonder how it would have been different. Wonder how it's different to ending up with someone you barely knew to start with.

The pattern of love has become one I can't stand. Starting off good, and moving slowly into euphoria... it always ends up in this pit of misery and pain. Why is that?
It always ends with abuse and tears, it always ends with me breaking.
Are all men the same?
Are all people the same?

I hope not.
Today I can hope again. I can see through the fog far enough to walk, so I'll walk on.

Love is a hell, a torture that we all crave...


Blessed be xx

only silence

There comes this point, where the only thing left is the silence. But this silence is just filled with things I'm dying to say.

There's the same tension from him, his silence echoing back my lack of resolve.
 I hold myself silent, unwilling to upset what little balance is left

But inside...


I don't know how any of this happened. I keep looking back and I just can't retrace my foot steps as to how I got to this place. It's as if the lights have all turned off and I just can't see anymore.
Mad at me... so simple... but I don't understand.

There's this point where you stop thinking straight and just start looking for reasons everywhere. Did I say this wrong? Did they not like it when I did that? It eats you up and then spits you out.

Into the belly of the beast and out the demons ass...

The worst part is, no one else can explain it to me. Worse than that, no one will.
There's no "X + Y = Z". There's no simplicity left to it... and it makes me shake with surpressed tears.
This is how she felt.
That's all I can think. She felt exactly like this, and didn't understand... couldn't see what she'd done wrong... couldn't see anything.

I just can't deal with being frozen out like this. The person who is my other half, the one who I share everything with, the one I've never fallen out with because there's nothing to ever fall out about... has fallen out with me and wont say why.
I'm left here with a bundle of questions, and some oddly bound duty to hold them inside.
Not to devolve into tears and the plea of "What have I done?"
Not to turn the pain into anger and rage against it.
To stand, and wait, and hope. Hope that it's all just temporary. All just a false alarm.

So why does this alarm ring in my head - the warning of an end?

Fear is gripping me, that's why I lay here in bed and shake.
Why is it so scary?
Maybe because (as you can tell) I'm unravelling at the seems without my friend. Because it hurts more than words can say to think I've hurt the one person who is more me than I'll ever be. Because, without him, there doesn't seem to be anything else.

It sounds like melladramatics. It probably is. So why can I not force it away into it's little rational box? Why can I not stay calm, and think straight, and be human?
I have never been able to imagine a future without my best friend, and now I'm being shown this image of a life torn from him. A life left void without the colour and light that has always followed him.

I sound like a love sick puppy. Embarrassing, indecent, uncomfortable... but I don't care if that's what it sounds like. These feelings wont be contained anymore.
I can't sit and smile and make conversation and act like I'm okay.
I can't pretend I'm not obsessed with the thought that the only person who knows who I really am might hate me. Because, if they do, that must mean I'm not a good person. That must mean that the good person is the fake one, and the real one is...


The silence is only ever a mask. A mask over a tumble of thoughts and emotions too complex, or confidential, to explain.
They talk of a comfortable silence - but that's only when none of the thoughts or emotions NEED to be explained. When they're just implicit.

This silence stretches on in a vigil through the night, keeping me awake by thundering in my ears.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times

Halloween.
Two weeks of planning. Four hours implementation; of latex application, painting, powdering, adding detail here and there. One red, one dead... all we need now is a redemption...
The joy of creating a zombie peters out though, and the blob of red in the mirror is almost too much to take.
The zombie finds his red demon, trying to talk herself into leaving her room, into not feeling like curling up in bed and never getting out of it. Normally he's a comfort, so why is it that she shys from him now? His hand comes up to cup her red cheek, and she turns away, practically flinching. I don't want you to see me like this. There are tears threatening to ruin her blushing skin, but he holds her in a state of perplexity and slowly convinces her to come out.
Soon they're at the next house on the list, painting faces, applying nails, drinking...
Everyone is having fun, so why does the fight start? It's just a game, but it turns real too quickly. She hides again, when no one is looking. Found again, this time with white eyes and cheeks where salt water has washed her red skin away. Again, she backs away from his touch. Again, she sees the confusion and hurt in his eyes. Again, she agrees to come out - but the damage is done. She's seen to much to believe her friend is still alive under the transformation, and knows that if it's true it's her fault.

Red pixies must cry on the inside; at least for the night.


You know what, I always thought that it was a paradox to say that it was the best of times and the worst of times. But I think I'm starting to understand.
The thing with life is that it's not one thing at a time. Maybe Tolstoy had an idea of quantum theory all those years back, where things are not either/or but both/and. Maybe not.
Still, it's interesting how our highs and lows not only flow into a progressive sequence, but also occur simultaneously.

It's hard to think of an example - but it's kinda like this:

You can spend your time with someone who makes you feel SO happy, who can make life seem like it can't possibly get any better; who makes you feel on cloud nine, filled with ecstasy. But at the same time you constantly have to remember that you can't be with that person in any intimate way - ever. That pain is like being dragged backwards through hell. But they're both happening at the same time. The best and the worst all rolled into one.
I don't know if that's real or not... it's just the best example I could come up with on short notice.

But it's like this year at uni. It's been the best and worst time of my life! I have this amazing flat full of incredible girls who I can laugh or cry with, I have all these friends who I spend so much time with, I'm enjoying my course finally, I'm feeling better and better about things... but on the other side of it there's my flat mates re-occurring suicide attempts, there's the fact that I have no money what-so-ever and may not be able to pay my rent next month, there's the over-bearing weight of the work load that's crushing me, and there's the boy problem that I can't even begin to go into.
I've never been so conflicted.

You try and throw yourself into work, but it just doesn't work. Like there's a force field - bouncing you back into the abyss of confusion. You say it's not fair - but in reality, it's you that isn't being fair. You're not being fair on life for going along in a manner that makes everything so much harder - and then blaming it on life instead of you.

I know that my problems are self-originating. So why can I not fix them?

Hmm...


Blessed Be xx

It is a truth universally acknowledged...

There's something that has to happen, but I can't seem to remember what. Everything seems to have vanished from my mind as I lay here, starring dazedly somewhere between the ceiling and the boy next to me. He seems to be asleep, but I can feel the tension between his shoulder blades even from this distance.
The release was enough, but now there's something that has to happen. He's waiting for it. I'm supposed to say something - but god knows what it is.
I don't particularly care anyway. He isn't the one I was thinking of. He never is. Whoever he is.

The numbness that always follows is seeping away now in a slow way. It starts in my chest, allowing the pain to pool and eddy there. I know it'll soon spread and become part of my whole.
Slowly, or perhaps it only seems that way to me, he turns away. Disappointed. I missed my queue again; but I don't care. I take this reprieve to piece myself back together. Slowly reassemble the armour that dulls the pain, slowly build the wall that blocks out the world, carefully replace the face that shows them what they want to see.
I never get the eyes quite right.

Now it clicks into place. The embrace. The "I love you". It seems too late for the latter now (thankfully), so I turn and wrap my armoured arm around his chest. My leg follows suit and slips over his in some remembered entwinement. I've played this part before. I'm a natural.
His hand finds mine and holds me to him, grateful. Loving.
My tears go unfallen and I force myself to sleep.

This game, this play that we call love; it is nothing. It has feeling, true enough, but it is nothing in comparison to Love. Like the memory of the love I have felt, I let it echo through me and channel it where it needs to be. Drawing on some well of amour to replicate it down the line; while all the time holding that real love deep inside somewhere. Forcing it down and out of sight, but never out of mind. Pushing it away like a naughty child begging for comfort. As though the feeling is wrong.
Perhaps it is wrong; but I'll never admit to it. How can love be wrong?

But enough of this pathetic diatribe.
Happier next time.

Blessed be.

Words... words... words...

It's gotten to the point where I have no words left, and I no longer know what to say. I can see that he's looking for me to save him with some words of comfort, or knowledge; of understanding. Anything. But my mind is just blank.
The cursor flashes out its own heart beat, waiting for the letters to flow into existance. It blinks at me, and I blink back. My fingers are stilled to silence as I hazily gaze at the text floating on the screen.
"Dj is writting..." continues to show at the bottom of the conversation. The text moves again and I stare past the words at the paleness behind them.
"Dj is waiting..."
There's nothing left in me to offer up as comfort. Haven't they bled me dry already?

To die, to sleep... to sleep perchance to dream; Aye there's the rub - for what dreams will come if I never get to sleep again?
Three hours last night. Three. And now here I sit, still awake, still tapping away at keys long untouched. The night continues quietly around me for once. The neighbours music is turned off (or at least so far down I can't hear it), there is hardly any traffic, my flat mates are no doubt sound asleep. Yet here I sit. Attempting to comfort someone 30 miles away without words.

I have to be up at 9, though my alarm is always set for (and slept through) 8.00am. Evil alarm. I'm not a morning person - and I never will be. The only time I'm awake before 9.30am is when I've not been to sleep yet. Which happens very frequently if I'm honest - but that ISN'T the point.

Reading Wolf Hall for my contemporary fiction module atm. It's good - though I know nothing of the period it's set in. Thomas Cromwell... the name rang a bell (eventually) but I have no idea who he was, or if this novel is in any way accurate. I remember something vague about Henry VIII having 6 wives, and a rhyme about how he moved between them... but other than that I'm at a loss as to ingenuity and genuine fact. I was supposed to have read it for last thursday - but it's hard to read when you have a blinding headache and can't stop coughing... even harder to attend lectures. So here I am - first week finished - and I've attended a whopping 1 out of 5 lectures.

Dr. Hurt examined my chest though and pronounced that it wasn't a chest infection, so I should be fine soon. No getting pnuemonia and dying of plague.

I don't know why i'm even writting this if I'm honest - it's late, I'm ill, all I can think about is the stupid relationship web that keeps getting all tangled up lately. Do you ever get to that point, where everyone seems to be involved with someone else? And yet, they aren't, and they're also involved with you... and then things start getting complicated because someone says "I don't like the relationship you have with so-and-so", and then friends become enemies, become lovers, become friends... it's all too complicated.
I think there should be some kind of enema for all this rubbish.
See - seeee! This right here - this COMPLICATED crap - this is the reason I never had a social life. They're confusing!
Oh well, live and let live... die and feed on human flesh... mmm brains...
Did I mention I'm working on this project called "Do Zombies Dream of Undead Sheep?"
It'll be great. Though even if they do... I don't think they count them.
Zombie counting would be an awesome way to get to sleep though "Brains... more brains... more brains... more..." you get the idea.

I've just realised I have a propensity for over using ellipses...
and a complicated desire for propinquity...

Oh well - ramble over

blessed be

While I pondered, nearly napping...

I give a sigh as the credits start to roll, and resist the urge to snuggle futher into the warmth of his bed. I know if I don't move now I'm going to fall asleep, which is such a social faux-pas. After all, my flat mate totaly has a crush on him... there is no way I'm going to his and spending the night while she's sat back at ours. She'd kill me.
So I summon the remanants of my energy and roll over to give him a hug goodbye.
He gives me a squeeze and I try to ignore the gentle rythmn of his heart beat as it tries to lure me back to the land of nodd.
"Night night!" He says cheerfully and promptly starts snoring. The douche.
Seconds later I'm climbing across him and literally falling out of the bed as my leg gets caught in the thick warm dovet. Even the bed doesn't want me to leave!
Wish I could say the same about it's occupant.
I shove my shoes and jacket on and he sees me out, making me promise to text him when I get in (even though we both know he'll be fast asleep by then).

The bitter cold of Autumn hasn't yet fully taken grip, but it's still chilly outside. The breeze wakes me up in moments and I quickly realise I'm not going to sleep when I get in. Not that I care. I'm still riding the bliss that he wraps me in just by being there.

I analyse this feeling as I walk home.
See, Li is one of those people who projects good vibes and good feelings. It's why he's so well liked by... well, by everyone really. He's fun to be around and he makes everyone feel better without needing to try.
I, on the other hand, am what's classed as an empath. I soak up everyone elses feelings and replicate them. It kinda sucks - especially if you're with people who are feeling like a pile of excrement.

So you put those two things together and it's like getting a hit of pure happiness. It's better than any sugar rush I've ever had - because it's not just hyperactive happiness, it's real. And it lasts. I'd pick half hour with him over any kind of drug.

There's all this rubbish going on lately. I'd say it's in my life, but it more feels like it's round my life. Maybe that's because I feel disconnected from everything, or maybe it's because I've just stopped giving a damn about the silly little things that are such huge problems.
Like - I don't really care if my flat mate hates the guy I'm sleeping with... and I don't really care if he's acting like my boyfriend even though I'm not interested in that sort of thing... and I'm not really bothered about the fact that the guy I was head over heals in love with for the past two years is only my friend. A few months ago it was as if those were the biggest, life stopping issues in the UNIVERSE, but I feel like that fish now - the don't-worry-be-happy-fish. Yes, that's right - I'm a fish.

And as my poster reminds me - Fish Happens.

So here I am, laid in bed posting my first blog, cursing the walk home that woke me up and made me want to go for a wander down by the river (again). Yes, that's right - I chose to write this instead of go visit the swans.
That reminds me though - I need to find a way to video the bridge at night.
There's this awesome effect created by the reflection of the water onto the underside of the bridge; and if you lay there and look at it (you kinda have to unfocus your eyes ever so slightly so you stop noticing the cracks in the the cement) it's like looking at a pool of water... that's above you. It's so trippy at 3am.... cold too, but hey.
When we were there the other night it felt to me like we were actually under water, starring at the surface. Cause, after all, water can't just stay upside down... you'd have to be playing with gravitational forces like mad to get that to work.
Which gives me an awesome idea for a story...

Either which way, I'm going to leave you with this thought:

If you look for something hard enough, you'll see it - but you'll blind yourself to everything else.

There's my philosophical thought for the day,
I bid you adieu.

blessed be