That loving feeling

"You can't say that!"

He's leant back on the bed, laptop still on his raised knees, phone to his ear. I'm trying not to eavesdrop - but it's hard when I'm laid so close to him. I try hard to focus on my own laptop.

"You can't hate relationships though - I don't believe you."

A pause while the other person tries to argue. I know this tone of voice though - the voice of the true believer. I'd tell him that relationships are hard and painful... but I'm not listening!! Honest!

"No, cause like - where else are you going to get that comfort from?.... No, not friends - that's different. I mean, yeah, you need it from friends and everything - but I'm talking about, like, cuddling up with someone while you watch a film, falling asleep with them in your arms, waking to them kissing you..."

Now I really wish I could have not heard.
I'm glad that my eyes are watering constantly because of the coughing and sneezing; it hides when they start watering for other reasons. I'm lucky enough to be sniffling constantly just to try and breath - no one would suspect a thing. Heck, even I can't tell if I'm crying or not.
But it hurts. It shouldn't - but it does.

The conversation moves on to something else, and I can finally stop listening, because my own mind is stuck on those thoughts.
The thing is, I've got that being offered me. I've got someone practically throwing the offer of that comfort at me... and I just can't take it. Not from him. Does that make me a bad person?
He loves snuggling up to me, falling asleep with me, waking up with me...
... but I don't love it. I find it frustrating. You know those times when people have hold of you and you just want to peel them off and step back, brushing yourself off? Yeah - that's the one. That feeling of "Gerroff willya?"
It's not fair on him... but at the same time, my mothering response has kicked in. The whole "There there, come to mummy - she'll make it all better." He seems so hurt by everything at the minute - I just want to help. Why is that always twisted into something I don't want it to be?

I suppose it's just the position you put yourself in at times though.
I put myself into the position of being the carer - the lover - and then bitch about it. I shouldn't complain really. To be honest, I'm getting better at not complaining. Getting better at not hurting too.

Like - when we were filming for Dan, I was supposed to break down and cry. I thought - that's fine, heck! That's great! I'll get to let out all the pain that's just clinging to me, hiding beneath the surface behind a thinly held line of will.
But when it came to filming it, I just couldn't find the pain. I dragged memories to myself, wrapped them around me, let the feelings they had evoked wash through me. But that's all they did - wash through me.
It's as if I've learnt to let everything go in a wash of  understanding. It doesn't really hurt any more. The pain is more like a shadow - a memory.
Part of me wonders if I just didn't feel safe/comfortable enough to let all of that raw emotion out alone with Dan and his camera. But then again, I barely cry any more. I go through the stage of nearly crying - maybe even loosing a few tears - but then something gives way in my mind, or my chest, and I just pull back together. I'd say I pull myself together - and sometimes I do - but mostly it does it on it's own.

The only thing that really cuts deep lately is the boyfriend/girlfriend thing.
I miss the comfort.
It's not the being held exactly - not the kissing - certainly not the sex. It's the knowing that the person you love with all your heart loves you back just as much. It's knowing that no matter what time of the day, you could text them, or they could text you, and it'll make you both smile. Thinking about them almost all the time, and knowing they're doing the same about you. It's walking into a shop, and being accosted by the absolute need to buy something, just because they'll like it. It's being surprised with flowers. It's...
It's all the things I've taught myself not to believe in.
Because I've taught myself that love isn't like that. It isn't romance, it isn't flowers, it isn't smiles and holding hands... it's just two people using a word to hide their fear behind - it's just an excuse to be with someone physically.

I always thought that I had a practical view on life, on love.
I thought that relationships were just give and take.
Then I met Li.

It's hard to think of myself as having my eyes opened; but I suppose that's what he did. He showed me completely by accident that "chivalry isn't dead"... no, more than that. He showed me that cynicism wasn't the only order of the day - and that true, real, actual caring and love was still real. Not just a fairy-tale.
In a way I'm jealous that he still has/had that. It's like a new-ness... like a flower that's only just blossomed and hasn't yet wilted under the heat and pressure of the sun.
I envied his ability to believe in happiness.
Now I'm just as hooked on the idea - if not as hopeful.

I'm scared though. Scared that this is just another ideal - another build up to a let down.
Even more scared that it IS real, and I'll just never get to experience it.
There's part of me that's so sure I'll watch my best friends find that perfect person -their Muirn Betha Dan - their soul mate - and that I'll be left behind, watching them in their glow of happiness, never able to find my own.

I used to believe I could feel my soul-mate you know.
I believed it so hard that sometimes I'd be laid in bed and it was as if he was holding my hand.
It was so real that I thought I could see his eyes when I closed mine. Feel his short dark hair in my fingers. Hear his voice call my name...
But it was only dreams. Those blue eyes don't really exist; though I'm sure I can convince myself another set of blue eyes are the ones I dreamt of years ago...
You know, I used to go all day (when I was younger) just waiting for the evening where I could curl up in bed and listen to him hum, imagine his hand stroking my hair, watch his hands pick up a guitar and start to play. He'd sing me to sleep. Now I don't even remember the sound of his voice.
All I remember is those eyes, and the sure knowledge that I had of recognising him through those eyes.

Part of me still clings to that dream.
Part of me wished I'd never had it.

I sound like such a pessimist!!

I shake myself in time to hear him hang up, and we resume our gaming.
It's odd, but part of me wants to say that apart from the 'waking to being kissed' thing, he just described his own relationship with (not only me, but) a hell of a lot of people. I don't though, because he'll say it's different, and I don't want to hear those words.
I want to be comforted like that, and for this moment my mind makes Li that comfort. He's the only one I feel comfortable enough around to actually want to snuggle up to and fall asleep. The only one I feel safe enough around to let go of those barriers... I don't want reminding that it isn't the same as love. It's the closest I've got, and right now I'm not ready to let go of the illusion.

My head is pounding now from more than just the head cold.
It's not just the longing for comfort that's making it throb, it's the non-verbal lashing my mind is giving me for feeling so weak as to need someone in that capacity.
Putting it like that makes it easier to push to one side.
Warrior Sophia does not need anyone. She is strong, and able, and independent!
For some reason it doesn't totally dispel the illusion, but the meaning behind it shifts in that subtle way, back to just friends. It's strange how it does that. I don't even notice it at times. I'll be with a friend, and I'll suddenly start thinking of them as a friend again - and it's only then that I realise that, for however short a period of time, I'd been assigning a different role to them. Often it's the role of boyfriend/girlfriend (dependant on gender) - but sometimes it's even pushing the terms 'nemesis' or 'challenge' or even a character from one of my novels onto them. As if my mind wanders and reality drifts away slowly, until it shifts back into a real perspective and I see the person again as they are, not just as I view them.

Maybe that doesn't make sense. Maybe it does. Maybe you've experienced it.
Either way, it happens; I glance sideways at my best friend and try to think of him as a boyfriend.
The comfort level is there... and thanks to drunken nights out I know he's a good kisser... he's also rather attractive... but...
I half laugh, half sigh. There's a point of friendship that you go past and past that point you're either friends for life, or you're lovers. We've passed that point, and I can feel it. No matter how attractive he is, and no matter how much of a crush I used to have on him, it's different now.
The reality of him as something other than a friend just doesn't quite compute.

It's right here - right in that moment - that I finally realise this.
Three years of fluctuating between 'we're just friends' and 'I want to marry you' - and they culminate right here, in this second, as I poke around at my own feelings, in a knowledge that we really will be friends forever. It's as if that love and longing has turned into something that's just... eternal.
I shake my head at my own flowery thoughts and return to the pressing issue of my Quest.

Part of me wants to share the revelation with him... but the slow clap I'd get for taking a year to catch up on  what he already knew isn't worth it. It's not like I wasn't being as smart as him - but that's how it'll turn around; because feelings about each other are just not something we talk about. Not without laughing them off, or tucking them under a rug somewhere.

Not to mention part of me is sure this is what's known as a false epiphany.
Give it three weeks and the old cycle is sure to kick in. I know my life, and my hormones.
What's the betting that if I expect the cycle it wont happen, but if I don't it will?
Sod's law SAYS:: it's a definite. All bets are off.

The weirdest part about being Li's friend is how I've never really seen him as... well... human?
You know how some people just seem to glow with an aura that just makes them somehow amazing, or better... it's kinda like that. Almost unreal. Yet he's the realist person I know... does that mean my reality is skewed? Probably.
So it's hard to imagine him failing at anything, or not having everything he wants, or even thinking of him doing bad/wrong things. I mean, I know he does. I'm often there when it happens... but... somehow, it just doesn't sink in?
I mean, come on - he's The Doctor! He's fricken' Superman! (or, Generic Super Hero Man)... everyone know's Dr. Hurt is super-human.

I mean - did you see the lvl 62 spell he just cast?

Okay, maybe we've been spending too much time gaming. Maybe my reality was never stable in the first place. I don't know. Either way, when he says:
"In real life, I'd just cast a spell to do it..."
I have to giggle. It appears I'm not the only one with a skewed perspective on life.


I still have the boy issue to deal with... but it can wait.
There's also the whole insecurity about being unloved to deal with...
but again, it can wait. Exams and Coursework and Dissertations are looming.
Time to concentrate on the work, and let the social life take care of itself.


Blessed Be xx

So you think you're crazy

So, lately I've been feeling a bit crazy... and I may have worked out why...

Over the last week or three many of my friends have been filming for their final year projects, attempting to get as much footage as possible then spending days (and nights) at a time in our Queens Building editing until their brains practically collapsed inwards on themselves while a final file failed to export...

How does this affect me?

Well, several of them required assistance (holding equipment, doing make-up, acting, running around screaming... well, not the last one, but you get the idea) and so, being the non-media-production student I am, and not needing to do my own filming, I offered to help them out.

But what's that got to do with being crazy?

Well!! One friend needed a couple of people to act out a love-story type thing. Naturally, Libor and I were asked to do it. I say naturally - that boy can be coupley with anyone and so can I... but people seem to think of us as some odd couple lately (I guess cause Kaydee isn't around often enough for them to see it's a total three way relationship... without the relationship part... yeah, it's complicated) so there you go. Me and Li, on-screen couple.

Libor and me singing in the park - happy couple scene 1

Now, there's all sorts of reasons that could theoretically have aided my insanity... but there's more - so much more.

The thing with this film was that - though we started out as the perfect couple, something was to go dreadfully wrong. Cue the scary music.
No, he doesn't cheat on me; no, I don't lower his CoD stats or refuse to make him a sandwich... worse - far worse. While I go to the shop for chocolate surprises, he gets stabbed...

Dead Libor - stabbed through the chest with a broken glass

Naturally, I'm devastated...

I mean, just look at all the blood still on my mattress from where he died!!

...and naturally I go insane...

... for instance, drawing in my own blood on the mattress next to his 'blood stain'... of course, on this photo you can see the clear distinction between my dried blood (brown heart) and the still vivid red of the ink that we used as fake blood on Li. Yeah - because of the black sheets I never thought about the white mattress underneath would be just as soaked with the ink... 

... yeaaah, that's pretty darn permanent now... whoops.

 Now, this would be fine. I can pretend to be insane without actually going insane...

But I didn't stop there - oh no! I decided that what we really needed was some props!

my crazy writings

So here we have some of the 'props' that I made. They're mostly just scribblings of repeated phrases like "bring him back" and so forth. The only thing is... I wrote a majority of them while sat in the pub...

Note to self: Best way to make people think you're crazy - write in the pub... 

I don't think you even have to be writing anything as insane as this stuff (which, yes, includes a detailed explanation of how to perform a ritual sacrifice in order to bring a beloved back from the dead...) you just have to do something other than laugh, smoke, drink, talk or watch the TV... it's something to do with social norms I guess - but I was breaking a majority of them. People laughed it off thankfully. I suppose it helped having a friend there, reading it as I went along and laughing saying I looked crazy. 

That's not what's sent me mad(er) either though.

No, no, no! 

Then you take a look at what we did to my room...

We wrote all over my walls in chalk. Mostly using the phrases that I'd coined in the scribbled writings further up, and writing the title of the film in the centre of the wall.  One of the scribblings is part of a line from a song that I actually wrote for Li last year... so maybe it's a bit personal in its craziness...

Sound of broken glass anyone?

This is the remains of a glass that we smashed against the wall. It's also the broken glass that we used as a prop to 'kill Libor' with (hence the blood splattering)...

... it's also the broken glass I used to cut my finger open and draw on the bed with... but that was after smashing it and leaving a beautiful dent mark - as well as a red line of fake blood - in my wall. I really hope I don't get charged for that tbh...

... I haven't thrown it away yet, and I'm not sure why...

...lazy? Me?... naw...

So I went a bit nuts - and am only just getting my room back to some kind of normal. And I think that's what's been pushing me over the edge...

"Crazy? Me?? Nah... Ok maybe a little"

... what you can't see is the white chalk on all my other walls... it doesn't show well on the photo's (see right)

However, a majority of my walls now have some kind of mad scribbling on them.

Now, waking up to that - when you're already kinda unstable - isn't the best of things to do. However, I've been so bogged down with revision for my exam that I've not had time to do more than tidy up the glass and other far-flung items. Which means that I haven't been able to do more than hide the writings behind stuff like my mirror for a few days.

Can you say crazy?

    "Loving you is like breathing;

    I can't live without it, and I can't

    stop it for long - but sometimes

    it can really hurt...

 ... it also doesn't require you

      to love me back -

         - that would just be nice"

 Now the exam is over, I plan on scrubbing the walls clean. It's not just because I'm going insane reading and re-reading my own insane scribblings, it's because I just want this place to be really clean now.

Though, I have to say; the insanity people display by writing on the walls isn't just impounded by the action itself, it's perpetuated by it. I can see that now. The jagged, incoherent words that they surround themselves with acts as a manifestation of their own inner conflict; but instead of removing it from themselves, they only deepen it - allowing it to be cultivated and harboured deeper inside them.

I have to say - if I could recommend one thing to anyone feeling a bit crazy it would be this:

Don't write on your walls - not only is it a pain to clean off, you normally scrape your fingers and hurt them too.

So, that's been my week of madness.
It's been interspersed with constant revision... and by constant I mean several all-nighters pulled both in the library and at home. I was revising up to the second I left the house to go to the exam - and I still feel like I didn't remember any of it.
Fingers crossed I didn't mess up too badly.

Though for some reason, while writing my timed essay in the second half of the exam, I double spaced my entire writing. It was the only way I could concentrate. I'm starting to think that I've written too many essays double spaced in the past - it's as if it's the only way that I can write in continuous prose (unless I'm rambling in a blog of course).

I've also had an awesome cough over the past two weeks.
By awesome, I mean that it sounds as if my entire lung is attempting to force its way out of my throat at times... but all that comes up is (okay... tmi... shutting up!)
No blood though - so it's all okay really.

Now that my exam is over, I'm able to sit back and realise it's the end of term.
Easter time.
My best friend has already left for home. My niece actually asked me today if I was coming home now - which kinda choked me up a little - but I have so much stuff to sort out here first (like my room) and I really want to get a big chunk of my dissertation done ASAP - since it's due in so very very soon.

I'm disappointed in my own poor work efforts this year.
I honestly didn't realise the depression was back in full force - but oh well, nothing left to do now but try and salvage a grade that isn't just a fail (or just a pass - which to me would be kinda failing... since I'm apparently supposed to be getting a first). I think the thing I'm most worried about is what everyone's going to think.
Check me out - the girl who doesn't care about anyone opinion but her own getting worried about what other people will think.
I mean, I can just see it now - the disappointment.
I'll be the first person in my immediate family to finish a degree... I should make it count. I should make it the best degree I can do... not some lame ass - half hearted - lack of attempt that gets me a piece of paper that says "could have done better" at the end of it.
I'm worried my tutors will shake their heads and talk about my 'potential'.
I'm worried my friends will go - Awww, no! Really? that sucks! I suppose it's understandable though...

Too late to worry now though. I'm going to graduate in 3 months time.
Me. Graduate. It seems wrong some how. Like I haven't earned it. Like I haven't done any work. Like it's false, or fake...
Yeah, it's getting me down that I've done so badly this year. I looked over my notes for revision and my first few weeks worth were immaculate. They were in-depth, clear, highlighted... they had notes for extra reading... notes from extra reading... then after a couple weeks it just stops. No more notes. No more anything. I didn't even read the texts.
I suppose my down fall this year was the reading. I just couldn't read the books. Not just read them in time, I just couldn't get myself to actually turn the pages and absorb the information.
Now it's a race against the clock to try and get the minimum done and make it look like more.

I'm not sure why the crazy post turned into one about work. I guess it's on my mind a lot right now.

Either way, there's now a box of chalk sat here, and I'm determined to make everyone sign part of my wall at some point. I'll probably wash my walls then get everyone in to re-decorate them...

      ... then get bored of it again and wash it all off again!!

Yeah, I'm like that. Not in-decisive; oh no, I'm very decisive -just not particularly consistent...

Anyway, I'm going to finish up here and get some well deserved R&R for the night (before starting with the work again in the morning)


Blessed Be xx

Feminism

Feminist prose is confusing; so I'm going to ramble about it to you in the hopes that it'll start making sense to me.
I'm a woman - to me, that is pure logic. [See: Kaydee] 


I'm looking into gender and 'gender boundaries' right now for my dissertation. It's supposed to help me show that the androgyny of Vampires helps to dissolve (or even just disillusion) the gender boundaries that our society constructs around us. 


Things that I already kinda know/understand:


Écriture féminine is a form of writing distinguished by Hélén Cixous as women's writing 'of and from the body'. It is supposed to connect deeply with the unconscious, and have a movement to it that mimics the unconscious. Water and other 'female' images are supposed to be used, and if the structure is hindered from this it is normally shown as the outside force. Many early works written in this style are littered with other peoples thoughts - normally men (normally husbands). The female is often portrayed as instinctive, mutable, emotional and unconscious - in juxtaposition to the male logical, direct certainty. 


Binary Gender opposition is basically where we define Men as 1 and women as 0. We are total opposites according to this - the one being phallic and the zero being vulvic (or yonic, if you want a couple cool words for the female "phallus"... yes, I had to look it up) we women fall under the nice little heading of 0. This means that men become the 'it' while we women become the 'Other'. That which is defined via absence/opposition. The in-y to their out-y. The lack of dangle to their angled dangled dongle... I dunno where I'm going with this, I think I got lost in a tangle of angles and bangles and dangles and... there I go again! 
So yeah, basically - binary gender opposition is what sets men up as the be all and end all. They are the definition - the definers. We become only the defined - the lack-there-of... 
Which is why Feminist writing is so reactionary against male writing, and standardisation. 


Which leads me onto Phallogocentrism. I love this word. It's a combination of logo-centrism  and phallo-centrism.
I quote (from my own essay... cause I'm cool like that...)
" ‘“phallogocentric” tradition,’ (a merging of logocentrism, the focus of power being on words, and phallocentrism, the focus of power being the phallus, to create phallogocentrism) The Awakening, Francesco Pontuale (1996) "
(though I would now argue that the focus of power concerned by phallocentrism is more on the phallus bearer in 9 cases out of ... well, 9 really... but.. we'll be conventional and say out of 10)


So, we basically have men being the definers, the controllers of language, the ones who own everything and displace women through their general differences and 'Otherness'. This means that it's practically impossible for women to become their own definers.
Think of it this way - not only are you already defined (from birth) in a particular way; you also have no tools beyond the masculine language that's enforced on you consistently with which to define yourself. It's like being the colour blue, and only have red crayons to show what that means. Can you do it?
There's been talk of a new 'feminine' language, though I can't remember where on earth I read about it - and I'll be damned if I'm going to read through every tiny thing again just to find some vague mention of something that probably never materialised.


Guys are probably thinking - well, it's not as if it matters anyway. In what way is the language 'masculine' anyway? It's not gendered!
Well, actually - it is. Especially English. Instead of adopting the gendering of objects like in languages like French, we simply reuse the masculine words to describe women. 
Think about it. What words have we got to describe a girl? Woman, female... the only one that isn't masculine orientated - that isn't a deviation from the masculine, is 'girl' - which is applied to the young, or those we wish to condescend. As a child we don't have much sexual gender differential, so there is no real gender to convey. 
Hence, our own language defines us as 'Not-man' - or 'Not-male'. We are defined by what we are not rather than what we are. 

Now, I know that I sound like I'm being petty or pedantic... but can you imagine how crap it is to be defined by what you aren't?
It's like something my mum said to me once. We were talking about perceptions and disability. She was in a wheelchair a fair while, and people have weird assumptions about you if you're in a wheelchair. Did you know over half the population believe that if a person is in a wheelchair they're mentally (not (just) physically) disabled? Well, as silly as that seems - at least to me - they do. People would talk to who ever was pushing my mum instead of her - as if she wasn't even there. She said "People see you and instantly think about what you can't do. You don't judge anyone else that way. You see a plumber, you think 'that person can fix pipe problems'; you see a doctor, you think 'that person can make people better'; you see a carpenter, you think 'that person can make stuff with wood'... you think about what they can do. It's just not fair to be instantly judged as 'incapable'."

That's what being a woman feels like at times. Like you're instantly seen as less in some indefinable way.

(w/o - man... without man... f/e - male... ?? I dunno - random thought/aside...)


Maybe I just relate to pallogocentrism so much because I'm a word person. I love words. I love understanding them, and where they come from, and why they evolve... Etymology is really important to me; and I can't explain why. 


So, where does that leave me in relation to Gender Boundaries and Androgyny??


I have no idea cause I've not really covered Gender Boundaries yet, have I? Whoops...


Well, I'm going to leave it for now, and return to this later.
For now...




Blessed Be xx

Leave me alone, I'm lonely.

Something snaps inside. I can't take any more. 
His text flashes up:

"I wish you were here."


Well, I'm glad I'm not - thankyouverymuch.


The phone is tossed on the table beside my laptop, and I scan over what I've written. Suddenly I can't find the motivation to carry on this stupid technical script. I was doing fine! I mean, sure, it was a struggle to get out of bed today... and sure, I've missed my lectures... but I was doing okay! I was getting the silly script finally done and out of the way.
So why can I suddenly not write any more?


I'd say some days it's hard... but I'd be lying. It's always hard. It is for most people.
Most days you kick yourself out of bed, get clean, go face the day. 
Why is today different?


I guess it's because of last night.


Last night was depressing because my friends were low... and because I started realising things about myself. Things that have been resurfacing now and then. Memories slowly fitting themselves into a pattern for me.
I figure it'll change one day. The picture will suddenly be different, and I'll be able to accept men as equals rather than the challenge. I'll be able to connect with someone and make love - rather than close off during intimacy. I'll be able to accept it all and smile, and say "Yes, but it made me who I am - and I wouldn't change a thing!"

Maybe that will never happen, but here's to hoping.


I run a hand through my hair and grab the phone back up. This time I take it with me and dive into my silky bed. 


I will not cry. I will not cry.


The tears stay checked and I look at my phone for a moment. Maybe I should just ride this out. Get through it. I'll be fine.
My thumb scans softly sideways through home screens and taps the little icon labelled 'Libor' without thinking. 

I'll just see how he is... Maybe he's finished working for today...


"Hello?" There's voices and general noise in the background. I'm so used to this that I'm pretty sure I can name the building. I'm betting on Queens.


"Hey, how you doing?"


"I'm alright. Are you?" There's the first hint of concern in his voice. I'd not even let mine wobble though! 


"I'm fine." I lie, "What you up to? Are you busy?"

A slight sigh on his end lets me know he wishes he were in bed. "Well... I'm just editing some stuff at the mo. Then I've got a meeting soon with Amy... then marketing... Why? What's up?"


I normally get defensive at being asked 'what's up?' - partly because it makes it sound like I need something ... mostly because I'm normally asked when there's nothing wrong.
"Nothing!" I lie again, though - even to me - my voice sounds overly bright, with dew drop tears clinging to it here and there "Just thought you might be finished by now!"


"Mm, yeah. We finished the shoot, but now we're up in Avid doing some editing." (Yes, I was right - Avid is in Queens) "Seriously - how are you?"

I pause, torn between the lie and breaking down. "Not great..." I opt for truth "I could just do with a kick up the bum is all." The tears are starting to seep into my voice, though my eyes aren't letting them go yet. "I'm fine. I'll see you in Marketing."

"Are you in bed right now?"
God he's good. Knows me far too well.


"Maaaaaybe..?" 


Another sigh - this time more of a 'chuh' outwards huff; distracted. "How long does it take to get to yours from here?"

"Um.. like... 20 mins? Wait - what? No..."


"Okay, see you soon."

"No! Li!! You're busy! Don't you dare! I'll see you in marketing."

"Okay. See you later."


Well. That was fun. What did you do that for?


I look blankly at my phone for a second, before burying my face in the pillows. Where does all this pain keep welling up from?
For a moment I let it overwhelm me. The pain becomes physical, raking through my body like a million razor blades; my chest floods with heat and my breathing becomes tight as I let the tears come, pooling in my pillow as I gasp for breath between sobs. 


Slowly it eases though, as if I'm pulling it back into myself; letting it out in reverse. I claw it all back, along with my control. The crying dies down into sniffles, and I wipe away the remaining tears with the back of my teddy. 


Looking around I see a rack full of dry clothes, a heap of washing to be done, a pile of unsorted paperwork... I don't want to get out of bed; I want to stay here and cry some more - but that's not going to help.


"Get up. Come on, get up and sort yourself out."


I'm by my desk before I can give my self time to weasel out of it. 


Music. I need music. Happy music.


The dance songs come on, and I force myself to bounce around to them. Soon, I'm not trying to enjoy them, I am doing. My washing gets put away as I shake my bum in the more ridiculous form of dancing (that one that mums reserve for dusting and tidying). My laundry basket is carried downstairs to the swaying rhythm of 'Tic Tock'. 


It's only once I'm feeling better that I hear the doorbell go. 


There he is, stood with a bag full of lunch, ready to make everything okay again.
Li - come to save the day. 
My knight in shining armour, and he doesn't believe me that I'm okay now. Irony strikes again.




The thing is that I can't explain what was wrong.
Not properly at least - because I don't really understand what's wrong.


The guy tells me he loves me, and I get mad, then upset, then turn to Li and want to cry.
It doesn't make sense.
Being told "I love you", "I miss you", "I wish I were there", should make you feel good, happy, in-love... 
but it doesn't. It makes me feel nauseous and annoyed.


I'm starting to think it's because it feels like a lie. 
Not just because I don't feel it. Not just because I want to scream "I'm Not In Love With You!!" into their faces and run away forever. But because it feels like, even if I did, they would be like - "Oh.. okay - can we still have sex?" Because it feels as if they don't care at all, they just want what I'll give if they think that we're "in-love". 


I suppose my frustration is because I want to make them see that they don't even know what love IS. Because love isn't about kissing, and sex, and 'pleasing' the other person. Love is about just wanting to spend time with a person; about wanting to hold their hand just so you can be close to them. Sex always seems like an ulterior motive to me. 


I've probably said this before, but I hate sex. It's not just complication - it's pain, and it's selfish.
My friends talk about a connection. About being so close to someone you just are them at the same time...
I've been with enough people enough times to know about sex; and I've never felt that.
Need - yes. Desire - yes. Pleasure - of course. 
But at the end of the day, it's still just me, and it's still just them. No deep, meaningful stuff. No merging of beings. No love.


Sex isn't love to me. The two aren't even overlapped in my mind any more. They're practically mutually exclusive.
I've felt closer, and more connected - more in-love - more part of someone else by just laying with them; snuggling... maybe even kissing.


Odd that while kissing the world melts away, and there's only the two of us left - unending, separated by nothing but our own desire to remain whole on our own...
...yet it gets to penetration and I withdraw. 


Maybe I've just never trusted anyone 100%. 


I lay on the bed next to Li as he produces sandwiches from his bag, and drinks. I'm not hungry, but I feel bad for dragging him away from everything and then refusing his gift. I take the drink and chastise him light heartedly for buying me things - for leaving his meetings when I said not to. I open my mouth to ask why he came, to tell him he didn't have to - but stop.


I'd have done the same. I realise. I'd drop everything for him if he needed me.


So I just shake my head and smile. 
It's been a while since the discovery that he cared for me as much as I cared for him rocked my world. I still forget. I'm not used to it - not at all. Not used to having someone even pretend to return the devoted feelings I have without physical payment.
As I look at him sat on my bed, eating his 'reduced price' sandwich, I realise that the reason I care so much for this boy is because he's never wanted anything from me. He's always just given freely everything he had - and never demanded anything in return. 
The concept isn't foreign to me. I've always been the same. What is foreign is someone else being that way - especially a boy.


He looks up at me as if he's been caught doing something wrong, or embarassing. His hands are still cradling the sandwich not far from his mouth.


"What?" he asks, staring into my eyes. 


Damn, you must have been staring again.


"What?" I return, making my eyes go round and innocent. I wasn't thinking about you being too damn amazing for your own good! Honest!


"What were you looking at?"


"You...?" stick to the truth. I manage to make it a question - as if the answer so obvious my question is more 'what else would I be looking at?'


He finally drops the subject after a little tête-a-tête. 
Things are often like that with us. It's like playing verbal keep-away. You dodge the question until they catch you and you give in, or until they drop the subject. I don't just mean me and Li; it's all of us - all our friends. 
Sometimes you can just force the subject to change - well, I can at least, I don't know about the others. You just get a bit stern, and people back away. It's great.
But I don't normally get stern with Li. Mainly because he trumps my sternness with his own brand of 'Man-of-the-house' stern-voice. My 'dad-voice' doesn't quite match up. 


Part of me is glowing with a warm pride anyway. A pride in myself for not wallowing until someone came to pull me from the mire. Pride in pulling myself out of the pit of despair and kicking myself up the bum. 
I think I might actually be forging some kind of independence. 
About bleeding time.


We sit and talk for an hour or so, half dodging phone calls from friends asking where we are and if we're okay. It's hard to say "Just leave us alone" really.
I suppose that's why sometimes I wish we were a couple. That way we'd be able to say "Can we have some alone time" - or, not even that, just go off with each other - and no one would bother us. No one would question it. It would be 'normal' for us to want alone time. 
Ah, if only things were that simple. 


Part of my mind frowns at the situation. 


Why can't it be that simple?


It isn't petulant; it isn't the "It's not fair" voice - it's the voice of reason saying "Well, why can't you go to University if you want to?"
You know, the voice that say's 'your arguments against what you want to do are totally silly and ridiculous - in fact, they don't even exist!'


It's asking "What's stopping you?"
There's a list about a mile long if I'm honest. 
Main reasons?
a) 'intimacy' would be expected... and there's a huge complication with that which I wont go into right now.
b) neither of us are really ready for a 'mutually exclusive' thing with anyone.
c) if we felt that way about each other, we'd already be dating.


Not only that, but getting with someone just so that you can have time alone with them seems a pretty silly reason in the first place.


I don't have to say any of it to Li - he already knows. 


I think of all those people who've commented in the past:
"oh, why aren't you two together?" 
"you make such a cute couple" 
"isn't he your boyfriend?"
"Are you two dating yet?"

I mean, a majority of the girls I know (okay, most of the ones Li and I both know) would happily jump into bed with him - or marry him - in a heart beat (not that he realises this). So I get that they might think that being as close as me and Kaydee are to him one of us should be 'in-there'... well, I think I get it... 
And I get that we sneak off together more often than most actual couples do... 
So I understand where the speculation comes from - I guess...


Doesn't matter how many times I (or he, or we) say "It's our business - stay out" the speculations keep coming. They just kinda move to behind our backs.
Maybe it's because we have a relationship that no-one else seems to have.


I mean, he and Kaydee get the same speculation. They make out a lot, and spend time together a lot... but in the end, that's just not what their relationship is... you know?
The only thing stopping them being a couple is them not wanting to be one. Same as us. 


I loose track of the conversation a couple of times while my mind floats around a few more subjects. 


I think about Will, and how he says he loves me. How he wants to be in a relationship.
I think of how I can't even begin to handle that.
It's not just him being far away - though that's a big part of it really - it's that I've never trusted him. Not properly. And it's not just with my feelings, or with the truth - not just normal things like cheating, or lying - it's things like trusting him to stay alive.
Maybe this is selfish, but I don't think I can stand to loose someone like that again. Death is just too permanent. I don't do permanent.


Then there's DJ... and I just don't know what to think there. How do you believe someone when they say the same things to you as they did your best friend - only to turn round months later and say the opposite?
I mean, I feel something for him... and even if it isn't as strong as what I feel for my friends, or as deeply rooted in desire as my feelings for Will... it's still something; and it's comfortable. Like with an old acquaintance - the slight lack of true feeling gives enough distance for this easy comfort. 
Don't get me wrong, I loved him. 
Not as intensely as I maybe portrayed... but... still... it was there.


So why do I not feel it the same way any more?
And why do I never tell him I feel differently to then?


I shake my head with confusion and start a new subject with Li. 
Anything to keep my mind from love and my lack of kindness in it.


No wonder only the crazy boys are attracted to me. 
Loving me is pain. 
I seem to make sure of that.
Though I'm not sure how - or that I like it.


My shining knight is trying to persuade me to eat the other sandwich, and I'm finally distracted by trying to come up with a better excuse than "I'm not hungry"... since apparently that's not a good enough excuse. 
After a while we just sit and laugh. 
The power of a true friend.


Strange how when all I want is to be alone, I'm still happy being with him.


I guess that's how you can tell a person's closer to you than skin - when being with them is so comfortable it's like being alone, without any pressure to put on the show, or be someone else.




Blessed Be xx

A few quiet drinks...

So, it's Tuesday, and I'm sat here, looking back (as always) on the silly things I've done lately.

For once, I can honestly say - the silly stuff was fun; and the stuff I should regret is the stuff that makes me smile the most.
Sadly, there's still a bunch of stuff that I regret. Then again - isn't that just life?

Things I don't regret:

• Making epic amounts of Rum/Vodka/Sambuca punch at Kaydee's 21st
• Making out with everyone attending Kaydee's 21st
• Turning our flat mate a little bit gay at Kaydee's 21st
• Dressing up at midnight to surprise Kaydee on her birthday
• Walking through Leicester in said costumes with Libor on our way to surprise Kaydee
• Making up with a boy who needed help
• Holding said boy while he flinched and cried out trying to get to sleep
• Cutting my hair off
• Leaving early on nights out

I could go on...

Things I do regret:

• Disappearing for 3-4 hours with a boy while a friend was over (no, we didn't do anything)
• Allowing assumptions to be held about me
• Not curbing my own emotions

I'm always surprised out how few regrets I have. I suppose it's because my mum always told me that she didn't regret anything - and that I shouldn't either. You live with your decisions, so you should think about them before you make them - and if you don't think about them first, you should just enjoy having been spontaneous and brave enough to do it in the first place.

There's a distinction here that I should point out. While I don't have regrets in my own actions (exactly), there are things that I do, or that happened and I kinda blame myself for, that make me sad. Like, for instance, that look that someone close to me gives me on occasion... it's a look that's so sad... and I catch them looking at me with that face just after doing something that could possibly evoke a sad(ish) feeling...
Now, that is my main problem right now.
This person means a hell of a lot to me; and though I'm not sure, I think I might be hurting them.
If I am, it'll be the biggest regret on my list. But I can't tell... I just can't...

With them, it's always been easy. We've known each other inside and out - understood each other on a level I didn't think actually existed outside of fairy-tales and romantic novels. But lately there's this wall between us. I can't tell if I'm reading them right any more. I can't just look in their eyes and know any more. Does that mean we're drifting apart?
I'd say it does... but it more feels like being thrust out. I feel 'unwelcome'. As if they don't want to share any more, and have purposefully dropped an iron curtain between us to protect them from my intrusiveness. Shame that they don't seem to understand me any more either. Not like before.

I suppose all things change though.
I'm just not... how to put this?... I'm not used to not understanding.
I hate change at the best of times - it throws me off and I get all unsure. I hate being unsure. But when it's a friend that changes it's even weirder.
Thing is, they haven't changed. They've just changed to me; and I'm left standing trying to work out in what way things have changed, and if it's them or just my perspective...

Stuff is just all complicated at the minute. Has been all year if I'm honest.
Okay, so I know that life is always complicated - but this is like a 9.0 where as it's normally about a 4.7...
Feels like it's just cranked up to a 9.4 too!

So, the few quiet drinks of Kaydee's 21st birthday...
They weren't so quiet.
Could you guess??

My word - things nearly got out of hand if I'm honest.
Somehow, just chilling out turned into just about making out... then spin the bottle started... then pass the ice... then "let's split off into couples"...
In the end we all just laid in one bed kissing, cuddling - probably groping too in places. No clothes removed (thankfully) though.
As fun as it was (we were all surprisingly comfortable with it to be honest) I kinda couldn't handle it after a while.

See... there was someone in the pile of bodies that I have actual feelings for.
There were also two people in the pile who have actual feelings for another person.
The whole thing was a messy pile of unquenched sexual tension and pain.

Maybe I was the only one who was attuned to it (I am an empath after all). Maybe I was the only one sober enough to register it above the primal urges that were running rampant in the house. Or maybe everyone else didn't mind so much; figured the good outweighed the bad - or that the bad they were inflicting on the other people (jealousy was rife) made it worth while. Maybe they like a little bit of bad thrown in with the good. I don't know.
What I do know is that I've had more than enough making out in the past few weeks that was flavoured by my own pain, and/or someone else's, to be overwhelmed by the feeling.

Only my housemates (and Jodie) noticed - and that was only as everyone left (or after everyone left) - because I finally started tearing up. Not much, but enough to let out the excess hurting. Enough to relieve the pressure sort of thing.
I blame it on not feeling well and thinking that ethanol was a good thing to ingest.
I've found that, while I don't get drunk easily, alcohol lowers my ability to reign in my emotions.

So there I was, five past 3, blubbing on the sofa to my housemate who I'd spent a large portion of the night kissing, making out with and generally turning gay. I say blubbing, because it's not really crying when you leak a few tears, pull yourself together, talk for half an hour and then leak some more. Not in my books.
I've cried my heart out before. Many a time.
I know what real crying is.
Anything that lasts more than a minute might be classed as crying still.

Thing is, I can't even explain to myself what made me want to cry.
I sat up talking to Helen about my feelings for hours. But none of that explains why I practically cried.

I have this theory that I've already cracked under the pressure of life.
This is just some kind of residual humour that's been left behind in my place.
Sometimes it's like I'm not really even here - it's just something else that's making the most of what's left.
Stuff goes wrong, and there's a hint of the 'Oh NO!' somewhere in me, something that wants to cry and scream that it isn't fair, and that I'm a failure etc. etc. etc... but this something else just shrugs it off and says 'bring it on'.
Like I've just developed this emptiness; cultivated it somewhere deep inside, and can let it flow over me when things get too tough. As if I just let everything fill the void and be swallowed by it. The pain, the confusion, the anger, the stress - it gets eaten by the emptiness and leaves me able to cope. Only thing is, it seems to swallow a part of me at the same time - and I'm not sure if that's a bad thing...


Our social life has become too complicated. It's just that simple.
The sensible thing to do would be to step back, focus on work, and not let it interfere with my head.
The thing I'm doing is trying to work it all out and follow what's going on.
(Read: procrastinating like hell because my lack of fully formed dissertation is scaring me)

I've also been sucked into a series of books by Laurell K Hamilton lately called Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter... I keep kidding myself that it's research for my dissertation (The Androgynous Undead: The literary Vampire and it's Effect on Gender Boundaries)... but really, it's just a nice distraction. It's easy to fall into and leave the world behind.
I've always loved reading. I do it instead of watching TV. It's my medium for chilling out.
After these past few years of having to read stuff - stuff that just couldn't capture me, stuff that was down right boring, or disgusting, or too hard in content to emotionally deal with (read suicides and rape) cause it hit too close to home - it's so nice to finally start enjoying reading again. I've missed it.

The main protagonist (main character for those of you who didn't study English lit) is amazing.
She's so kick ass - I think I look up to her. Role model? Naw...
I mean, she's nothing like me if we're talking appearance, career, life... but the personality is so me it's ridiculous. I think that's why I fall into the story so easily. It's written in first person, and her reactions to situations are so similar to what mine would be, it's as if - for a few hours a day - I am Anita: the kick ass Vampire Executioner, necromancer, gun wielding, cute and sexy little woman who has a sharper wit than her knives, and doesn't take crap from anyone.
Like me, she'd rather be fully honest about everything; even when it gets her in trouble (and lots of it). We're both as quick to jump the gun and slug someone if they piss us off, and as willing to do what it takes to survive as each other. We both have a crazy friend who kills people for a living (though mine doesn't give me epic weapons as gifts) and both have a still place inside that, if we go to, everything becomes possible. A place where emotions disappear and all that remains is the cold hard fact that we are capable of anything.

So yeah, if I were to be a story book character, and I were more trigger happy, cuter, shorter, and more athletic... I'd be Anita Blake.
Sadly, my ability to blur the boundaries between reality and fantasy isn't being helped by this.
I keep forgetting that my friends aren't lycanthropes, or vampires, or other preternatural beings...
Actually, I was just wondering about who I'd want to be in a triumvirate with if I could be - and the sad part is, I don't even have to think about it. Mathieu and Libor are the only people I can imagine being tied to in that way. We'd make a great trio. They're the only guys I trust and love implicitly. The two strongest men I know (don't want to be tied to people I feel are weak, it should be a strong triumvirate).
I'd probably be the weak link in the whole thing - but I doubt it some how. My true weakness comes from a desire to be looked after - a desire which is slowly disappearing from my genetic make-up if I'm entirely honest. That desire makes me act weak so that people protect me. It's silly really.
Thinking back though; I felt so much stronger, so much more alive, when I was with Li and Mat - as if we already were a power base.
There's an irony I'd point out... but it's a total spoiler for the novels, and I know someone who reads this blog is trying to get through the series at the minute.

Thinking about Mathieu and Libor has made me miss them again.
Missing Li seems silly as I saw him yesterday. But missing Mathieu is this dull ache that's always there now. It's dulled with time, because all pain does when you live with it day in-day out. You get to a point where you push it so far down inside you that you barely feel it most of the day. Then you think about that person you miss, and it blooms to the surface again.
He's still all the way over in France... and I don't get to talk to him often lately - because I'm hardly ever online. It doesn't seem fair that you can meet people now that are so instantly and so whole connected to you, but sooo far away that you can't be in contact with them. That you can't just see them, and hug them, and sit and chat for hours. That you can't curl up in bed with them and fall asleep talking. That you can't just see them.
It wouldn't be so bad, but when I do see Mat (through the magical technology of webcams) he looks so sad so often. I'm pretty sure my smile's have dimmed a lot too. Watching Li and Mat on webcam to each other used to be like watching a smiling match. Now it's a show of mourning. They don't seem to realise it, but they both look so sad - as if they'll never be in close proximity again. Missing people sucks like that.
It's just so hard to see the two people I love the most hurting like that - especially at the same time, for the same reason. I'd give anything sometimes to just take that problem away - just to see them smile.

And yes - they are the two people I love the most. Sorry everyone else, it's just true. I can't help it.


So, my mood lately has been what I'm now describing as "moop". It's a cross between 'meh' and 'poop'. It's catching on amongst friends. That in itself is a scary thought.

I was always the weird floater person that people put up with. Lately I seem to have become part of a core. Within our social structure there's two separate cores - and I'm pretty much in the centre of one of them. People look to me in that 'shall we?' kind of way. I can't really explain it. It's not a 'you're in charge' thing... not even a 'well if Lauren's doing it...' kind of way. It's just a constant inclusion if that makes sense. I mean, part of it is just being one of Libor's "second in command"s... everyone looks to Li for the go ahead in our little 'core'. He's the trend setter, the leader - what ever you want to call it. Our Ulfric... and somehow I've ended up as part of that leadership... somehow I've ended up as almost a proxy Lupa...
Oh god, I'm using werewolf terms again... see what I mean about being overly influenced by these books?

I'm not used to being this close to being 'popular'. It's the oddest part of my uni experience so far. Okay, no, that's a lie - Kaydee's (okay, and my) parties have been the oddest part of my uni experience - but being liked is definitely high up on the list. Being one of the people almost always invited to the party; the one who's smiled at and greeted in the street; just being accepted really - it's a feeling I never hoped for (never even strove to achieve if I'm honest). I never believed it was attainable, so I didn't bother with it.

I have to say, I never expected to be a part of a drunken party that ended up in  bedrooms.
Even in my crazy years (well, my last year at sixth form college) I didn't imagine it.
I mean, being accepted back then had still left me as an outlier. Someone to be included if I was around, but only invited on odd occasions. Now I do a lot of inviting myself... and my parties are getting quite the reputation for insanity.

I keep wondering what next year will bring.
Whether any of us will still be together, being insane, and having a laugh.
It's hard to imagine life not being this fun, hard, crazy bubble of friends and stress.
I mean - surely we can keep that? Only the work has to change - from study to actual work. Right?

I don't know.
What I do know is that I have to stop worrying about it.
We'll jump off that bridge when we get to it.
Speaking of which - I'm dying to go bungee jumping!! So what if I have severe vertigo? I want to jump out of a plane and parachute down to the ground. I want to jump off a bridge and spring back upwards while screaming my lungs out.
I want to face my fear and laugh at it afterwards.

That's the person I want to be. The person who looks fear in the face and smiles. The person who doesn't panic, and doesn't cry; because fear is the only thing that stops you from doing things. It's the only draw back to life.
Fear will not hold me back. Never. Not ever again.

Be free. Live to the fullest you can. No regrets.


Blessed Be xx

Kiss and Tell

Let's get personal for a while.




I'm the sort of girl who's always had a boy she can go to. I was five when I had my first kiss from a boy. Eight when I had my first boyfriend. But I wouldn't loose my virginity till I was seventeen and a half - six months before the goal I'd set myself for chastity.
Since then I've had intimate relationships, casual relationships, one-time things, long-term relationships, and those 'almost' relationships. I've done almost everything in the karma sutra and more besides. Learnt to flip a persons switch, make them last or make it quick... but for all that experience, and the made up fantasies, do you know what I love the most?


Kisses.


Now, maybe it's because I have a slight oral fixation, but kissing is the most wonderful (and sometimes most intimate) thing I think you can experience.
They say that a woman judges by a kiss how good a person is in bed. I guess on some level it's true - but it's more "Could I keep kissing this person while we were doing it, or would I rather forgo the procedure to avoid his lips?" if you ask me. My experience has taught me the only correlation between kissing and 'it' is responsiveness. If a guy kisses you by mimicking you, he'll do the same in bed. If he doesn't pay attention to what you want and just does whatever, he'll also do the same in bed. 


But what makes a good kiss?


There are so many types of kisses that it's hard to define what a 'good kiss' is.


There are some people who have hard lips. They don't mould to yours, they just press - like teeth almost. They aren't my favourite lips to caress, but there's a technique that (if they've mastered) makes it feel just as nice.
This technique is made up of being gentle, and using the tongue. You can't closed-mouth kiss someone with hard lips. It's just not right.


Then you have those people with amazingly soft lips, that you can brush lightly, or press firmly against, and it still feels good. They're full, and touchable, very kissable.


Once you get past that main difference though, the range of kissing is still immense! 


Taking from my own experiences, I've been kissed in a churning, half slobbering (unpleasant) way by a boy, who purposefully thinned his lips while kissing to make them hard. That tongue attempted to molest my lips - and failed.


Then there was the boy who never opened his mouth more than a centimetre, but managed to move just enough to make it feel nice. I'm not a fan of closed-mouth kissing unless it's short and sweet. But he managed it.


Of course, you then have the no-holding-back kissing; where your eyes are both closed and your world shrinks to the microcosm of where your mouths meet. If done right, this can be the best kiss in the world. It should start off slow, lips only open enough to cup the others upper or lower lip. Then the tongue starts to make a gentle appearance, just caressing lips, maybe touching in the middle; until finally both mouths press against each other like tectonic plates, moving each other apart to allow full access to one another. The only thing that ruins a kiss like this is lack of rhythm. Some people seem to think that once your mouth is open in a kiss it should stay that way so that you can explore inside with your tongue. They're wrong. Kissing is almost like eating the other person, in that you continue to open and close your mouth constantly. If you're going to pause in one position, it should be closed - preferably sucking gently on the other persons lip.


Then you get kisses that are just forceful. Sometimes these can convey the heat and passion of a moment, or a person - but most often they just convey the personality behind them. Forceful kissing is about getting what you want, and not taking no for an answer. If it's too hard, a yes will turn into a no; but just enough pressure will persuade many an uncertain heart. The forceful kiss is best used as a starter kiss rather than a continued one. A good forceful kiss should melt into something warm and wet if you ask me.


Of course, there's two types of forceful. There's the strong pressing of lips, which is what I meant above; but there's also the forceful kiss where two hands lightly grip your face, cupping your cheeks, drawing you in towards a soft, insistent pair of lips. 


Then you get the kisses that surprise you.
I said early that kissing conveys your personality. It's half true. Kissing conveys how you feel, how you feel about a person, and who you are - as well as what the situation is. It's very personal and very intimate - very telling. So when someone who's character you think you know kisses you differently to how you expect, it can be a surprise.
One time, during a kissing (read drinking) game, a boy had to kiss me while my back was pressed against the wall. This boy was fun, a bit 'laddish', kinda cocky; but his kiss was the most gentle brush of lips I'd ever really felt. If it had been shorter, I would have just assumed he hadn't wanted to kiss me. But it lasted long enough to make my heart do one of those loud 'thumps' that it makes when someone has shocked you in a good way. 


You can surprise people like that a lot. In social situations kisses are supposed to be over the top (among friends) or quick and business like... unless you're into PDA's (public display's of affection) - which I'm not particularly...
So when it's social, if you flip the charts you can really take someone by surprise. Lingering on a business-like kiss makes a person notice more. Making an OTT freindly kiss softer, gentler, but no shorter, makes a person pay attention too. 




Sometimes I crave a pair of lips to just touch with my own. To feel the heat with.
I think about the people I could kiss. Some of them good, some of them bad, some of them way off limits. There's a pair out there that can take my breath away with a soft kiss, or set my whole body on fire with a deeper one. Sometimes I think that kind of effect is linked to the person more than their lips - but others I wonder.


I've been told I'm a good kisser - but it's not true. I'm a great kisser. 
Confident? Yes. Over confident? Maybe.
But being able to pay attention to what makes a good kiss means that you're able to replicate it. And I'm lucky enough to have soft, full lips too.




You may be wondering why I chose to blog about kissing and lips.


You know those days when you just crave a chocolate bar, or steak and chips, or ice cream... crave it like an ache? Well, today I woke with the craving for lips. 
Since I'm alone in the house, and my friends are away for the weekend, you'd think I'd be safe. But since I'm going out this evening, if the craving hasn't died by then, I may end up putting myself into compromising positions to fulfil it. 
I hoped that writing about it would make me less hungry. 


Instead, I'm now thinking about the perfect pair of lips that I'm not sure if I've found yet. The ones that fit mine just right, and know exactly what to do when they're there. The pair that look beautiful smiling, and have a cheeky edge to them when they think of my lips. 


oh well!




Hey - at least I didn't list every single type of kiss there is, or explain them in detail! Then we both would have been here forever. 




For now, I'm going to leave you with the image of supple lips, pursed and poised for action. May all your kisses be sweet ones.




Blessed Be xx