A bad day in a bad week each year.

What follows is for me, a thing I need to say somewhere, an annual cathartis that's become a form of ritual for me

I love you. I know I always will.  I know we both did many good and painful things to each other. I wish I could erase you from my life. 

That's not a thing I say lightly.  I fundamentally believe you are all the good and part parts of you story.  You can't undo one without the other.

But I would have never known you if I could.  Even knowing how unrecognisably different a person  that would make me.

The friends I wouldn't know, jobs and homes I wouldn't know.  How much less capable I'd think myself. I realise what I'd lose.

You entered my life for 3 months last year somehow and I destroyed friendships, I damaged others, I lost any chance I had with either of the guys I had something going with at the time.  The small bit of my psyche I'd started to rebuild in the time since I barely kept together.  Even now the cracks are still there, threatening to split any second.

I know you're bad for me. I know you destroy everything around you.  You found ways to strike at me even after we broke up, from miles away.  I also know know I've learnt to project many of my own demons onto you to keep myself alive. I hate everything about you, and yet.  I don't, and can't, fall out of love with people.  My brain doesn't work like that.  Once you get in, you're there, till the last star goes out.  I love you and would do whatever you asked, if you simply asked.  I hate myself for that.

I miss many other boys right now.  I make many mistakes and hurt many of those around me this time of year it seems.  But I hate remembering that we fell in love this time each year

One day, I might be lucky enough to be half the man I wanted to be for you, because that man was wanted to do incredible things in the world, believed that he could, and was willing to at least try, even of it might mean failing, or getting hurt.

The man I was when we first met could not even have dreamed of those things.

And it's a far cry from the man you ended up making me today.

We're not done

It's easy to ignore you
When I see you down the hall
It's easy to be angry
It's easy not to call
To throw away this thing we had
And blame it all on you
It's harder to admit
I miss it too

It's hard when I come up with something new
And I can't show you
It's hard to see you suffering
It's hard because I know you
It's hard to find forgiveness
We've said all there is to say
What sucks is
I don't see another way

Quiet thoughts on a Saturday afternoon

There's a lot of things I'm not saying.

I miss my friends.
This is partly my own fault and partly not.  Between disagreements over previous repeated suicidal bouts, attempting to recover from such, insane work commitments over the last 12 months, intentionally shrinking my social circles to cope with the previous 2, and my just naturally overly busy schedule, I haven't had much free time.  A friend asked if we could do something on a Sunday not too long ago - over a 3 month period I only had 2 dates I could offer, the soonest being 6 weeks away even still.  Friends have, probably understandably, rather given up on trying to hang out with me except for special occasions like group birthdays etc.

I still have my Monday night social, which keeps me sane(ish) week and week, in so much as it acts like a stress reliever, but after 5 years of such and an ever decreasing size of the group that turn up each week my mind has partially desensitised to the effect of it - as I say, it works as a temporary stress reliever, but given its default regularity, doesn't seem to count a huge amount towards 'seeing people' anymore.


I'm supposed to be in Brussels this weekend.  A replanned trip for a good friend who wanted to go to Amsterdam but I told him I could only go as far as Brussels.  Clearly, we're not there.  Work got in the way.  Super long days, weekend work, getting home at 2am and going back to work at 7am, not eating, all of this meant I had to make the call that 6 hours of driving, half of it in a foreign country, was going to end badly, and so I cancelled the trip.  It sucks.  I feel horrible for cancelling on the friend who was counting on me for one of his first proper vacations in years.  Everytime he tries to tease me about it I get defensive and lash out at him.  I'm at work on Sunday this weekend already of course.


I was supposed to be in Thiepval this weekend.  At the Somme memorial event.  I won tickets.  I asked my best friend if he was up for it.  War services seem to be a thing we do.  For someone who normally does not display the correct emotional connection during times of public grief, war services do have a connection with me, again, not so much an outward one, but inwardly they mean a great deal to me.  Brussels was the replanning of this Thiepval trip when that went awry.   Thiepval went awry, well because I fell out with my best friend I suppose.  Which sucks.

I miss him.  He fucked up pretty badly and did something pretty damning to be fair.  I would like to somehow reconcile, but that's not just about me forgiving him and forgetting about it, that involves him putting in a fair amount of effort in to try and make things up or apologise to me.  That effort seems to be... virtually non-existent.  One in person talk that he walked away from and a handful of text messages over 6 weeks.  He seems to have no interest in putting in the effort to make up with me.  Which is the way things go sometimes, but it still hurts a lot, I still miss him a lot.  He was a big and critical part of my life (and a very critical part of my mental health support over the past 18 months that has now vanished - at many times the curiosity of where his friendship might go over the years was the sole thing keeping me around) so finding out you're not worth making the effort for is never a nice position to be in.


I miss his husband.  He's someone who doesn't say a lot, and who doesn't reveal his emotions very easily.  But over the last year I've reached a point where I feel I can read him fairly well, that we have established some of our own connection.  We both realise that ultimately, our friendship will always hinge on my interaction with the (ex-?)best friend, but we had definitely got to a point that there was a personal interaction between us.  The messages he's sent me over the past few weeks have been heart-wrenching at times.  It made me realise I don't just miss my friend; I miss both of them.


This all leaves me in a state where I'm falling very free and loose mental health wise again.  I feel supremely disconnected from the world, there's no one I feel like talking to, seeing people is either a chore or they're no longer around or interested.  I've wondered about reaching out to the best friend - about once again, swallowing the hurt and being friends with him because I mentally need the stability.  But ignoring the problem would lead to internalised resentment down the line.  Brussels friend is also seemingly very concerned about any prospect of reconciliation - partly because of the effect the whole issue and its history have had on him personally, and I also get the feeling he just doesn't think the guy is any good for me to be around, period.  It's not hard to work out who each of these people are, so you'll understand why Brussels friend's severe reaction to me reaching out makes me give pause and consider whether he is in fact right and I should trust in his assessment of me far more than I trust my own.

But either way, I miss everything right now.  It all gets increasingly distant every day.

Bears

Bears watch over me I'm told.  Bears are on patrol in the South, protecting their charges.  Bears that like the winter.   Greater European Moosebears.

A jackal ranges far and wide for the charges I once gave it. 

But even bears don't watch as closely as we watch each other.  It's intimidating, so I'm told.  A near-palpable force that can be hard for others to break into.  A sixth sense constantly aware of each other, constantly keeping tabs and checking in.  Guarding.  Protecting.  An feat we can't manage for ourselves. 

He makes dinner and puts the rest in the fridge for the week.  He knows I'm not eating.  I put petrol in the car and keep my keys closeby in case.

Bears have been spotted nearby.  Out in the dark.  Marking their patrols.

Turn it off

I have a growing problem.

I'm unable to voice my frustrations at #superaggressivefb.

We spend an increasing amount of time together, which is good and nice.  But this means all the minor things grate more and there's less time for the irritation to fade in-between.  Sometimes its silly actions he takes.  Sometimes it's aspects of his personality that I find difficult.

Early on when we started seeing how far we could push each other, I started putting my irritations at him in a box in my mind, to be used at a later date when I was beating on him and could channel my rage into the desire to hurt him.  That worked great.  But the outlet for my rage is much less than the inflow.  The box has got increasingly bigger.  I haven't let loose at #superaggressivefb in a good while, we're both a little scared of the look in my face when we test that line and this is probably the underlying reason why.  The unresolved frustration is evident - I'm inpatient with him in the morning, I become irritable easily, my anger ramps from zero to full even quicker than previously.  It's not what I want to be like around him.  It makes too much of the time I spend with him unpleasant, and he's one of the best things to happen in my life, and certainly the life-saving grace of the last 12 months.  Of course there will be bad moments, but in my current state they happen too often for too little reason.

The problem is, most of the time when I'm angry at him, we're around groups of friends, or at the very least his husband and one of my best friends.  So you can't really yell at someone and be angry at them and vent in that situation.  So it goes into the box for dealing with later.  We actually used to spend more time alone when we were first getting to know each other.  Now its very rare for us not to be around his husband and my friend.  Which is a good thing because we've all become a group of friends with each other.  But again, less opportunity to vent, less opportunity to let my rage go.

#superaggressivefb has had a tough week.  He asked for a nice weekend.  He asked me to smile.  I tried to.  But I hit issues.

When I get mad or upset, I don't react well to things.  I know this.  I know I'm very likely to respond in the worst way possible to someone who doesn't deserve it about something that isn't connected.  So I remove myself from the situation.  I go away and calm down and when I can think about it properly I work out what actually bothered me and then go back to them and duke it out.  I still yell, I still sound pissed off, but the red haze doesn't cloud my vision, I'm not lashing out physically or emotionally, and I'm not just reacting defensively.

A few weeks ago this caused a big problem.  Walking away and shutting someone out is the worst reaction to have to #superaggressivefb.  So after the dust settled from 2 bad reactions, he asked me not to do it in future.  I'm trying, but I'm failing.  On Saturday I got angry and I left.  That's not to say I'm not making progress.  I came back.  I came back quicker than I otherwise would have.  I come back when the red haze is gone, but I haven't done my thinking, when some of the rage is still there, I can just stop it from lashing out inappropriately.  Its progress, but its not what was asked of me or what he needs.  I told him this weekend (making the realization myself as I said it), that I hold myself to MY standards around him, not his.  That's actually very rare for me.  My standards are unfairly high on me, and currently only one other person gets that privilege.  So to my mind, I failed in my reaction.

Failing once, I then did try to talk to him.  And came very close to shutting him down again.  The anger and hurt in his face, and the fear and regret it instilled in me would stop me from doing it a third time you'd think....

Sunday my head did something stupid.  It decided it wanted something.  It demanded and expected it.  And when it didn't get it, it ignored and forgot about all the good things that had happened this weekend, and sulked.  And because others were around, I couldn't tell #superaggressivefb what was going on.  I got stuck with endless thoughts in my head.  Thoughts that kept me up even when he had me pinned within his arms in bed to stop the rage from spilling out and assure me I was safe and he cares for me.  So I got up out of bed and walked away.  I didn't run like I wanted to.  I went to the other room and started blogging.  He eventually came and found me.  I sheepishly asked if I could come back to bed, ashamed at failing him for a third time.  Frustrated at him, myself, the situation, but especially that I couldn't just lie there in bed with him even if it meant I was angry.  My way of not running.

I'm struggling to find a way to deal with the bad parts of my rage that doesn't involve walking away, to tell #superaggressivefb when I'm upset and why, .  They're my problems to sort out, they're big ones, ones I'm failing at repeatedly.  Ones that are are causing big problems, as they end in resentment and bitterness.  If I don't learn how to do these things I'll fuck up a really good friendship,

He needed a nice weekend from me, he specifically asked for it, he asked me to smile.  I think he got that.  I struggled to give it to him, and at points I certainly failed, probably because I wanted to try so much.  But he fell asleep happy Sunday night, his husband on one side and me on the other.  He struggled when I tried to tell him things on Saturday night, because his week had been tough enough.  I didn't tell him any of the stuff above because that definitely would have been too heavy.  He stopped me from telling him something big, that I rarely admit, that I can't even remember now I suppress it so much.  I wanted to tell him at one point, but he (fairly) wasn't able to deal with that at the time.  I'm trying to make the change from the boy who desperately needed support from him for months, to one who can support him back.  He reads my blog.  He'll read this.  I hope he reads it when he has memories of a nice weekend in his head.


Post script:

Some of the good things this weekend:
- The understanding and forgiving smile on his face when he came in the bedroom Sunday night.  It's exactly why I want to find a way I can fix my problems and not fuck up a good friendship.  Even confused and angry, I appreciated his action so much.  Apparently this equally showed in the smile on my face when he walked in.  He pisses me off, he's a best friend of course he does.  But even with one or both of us reacting badly, there's a connection that works.
- The three way sleepy hug with me, #superaggressivefb and his husband in bed on Sunday afternoon.  It a wonderful demonstration of trust, acceptance, and privilege to be invited to join a couple like that.
- Faith.  Inviting someone to see such a personal aspect of you is something that again, offers great privilege.  I count it as a significant moment in the development of our friendship.
- When I couldn't sleep, or get comfy, and was fidgeting non stop at 5am disturbing everyone, #superaggressivefb rolling over, ordering me to cuddle up and letting me be the big spoon (I'd mentioned how much I like this to him earlier that day).  Asleep 20 minutes later.

I have concerns.  Increasing concerns about many things.  Ones that #blondie probably thought of months ago in his perceptiveness.  But there are continued good things.  Things worth fighting for.  Things worth hurting for and writing blog posts about.  We're both still learning.  Blogging helps.

A real gets-inside-and-rips-you-apart pain

All the love's still there, I just don't know what to do with it now.

You know I still can't believe we both did some things I don't even wanna think about.
Just say you love me, and I'll say I'm sorry.

Oh can you tell, I haven't slept very well since the last time that we spoke.  Please understand I've been drinking again and all I do is hope...

The Eighteenth Charm

One of the most terrible secrets we can keep from those close to us, are the ones that they should know, that we need them to know, but we keep to ourselves through all the pain, because it would break their hearts to tell them.

Ignorance is not bliss

There's a horrible and uncomfortable moment when you realise you can't work out if a friend is lying.

As far as I'm concerned, the following is a basic fact: I lie to my friends; we all do.  I therefore, expect that my friends are and will lie to me.

Most of the time one of two things happens:

1. You know your friend well enough to know that they're lying, know why they're lying, and accept as part of the tacit agreement of friendship that you do not call them out on it, engage them in their lie, and file away the different meaning in your head for actual later use.
2. It's one of the millions of trivial little every day lies we all tell constantly that are so inconsequential you can't be bothered to spend your time working out whether they lied or not and don't even bother to file the information in the first place.

Either way life and friendship goes on much the same and everyone hides each others failings and flaws for each other because otherwise we all go insane.

But sometimes, your friend tells you something, and as hard as you try to analyse it, you cannot work out whether that's the truth or not.  Both options are reasonable, both options are valid, both options could be successfully argued both for and against.  Even sitting there and going over it and over it in your head in twenty different ways, you come to the realisation that either you don't know your friend well enough, or it's entirely possible they lied to you.

Worse than the lie itself, worse than the act of lying, is the fact that they might be able to lie to you and you might not know it.

Shut the fuck up you're amazing

So this was obviously a private conversation, but I've decided to share some parts of it, because it's the first time I think I've ever managed to properly put into words that do due justice to the truly platonic love I have for #Blondie

In worrying about him, and giving him more that he was giving me (cause he's hiding from his own demons in fairness) I failed you: by being too angry to wait for you; by being so angry it overrode my near constant impulse to look out for you in whatever way I can.  You are one of the few people I can save, and sometimes I need to for my own sanity, and I failed you on that this weekend.

Sometimes I hold myself to an unnecessarily and unfairly high standard, it's silly I know.  But you are one of the people I can consistently meet it for ... I know your safety isn't my responsibility, and it's not something I can ever guarantee, but it is something I can do, that I can't do for a lot of people, for a lot of people I wish I could ... never doubt that I will strive to do better by both of us next time.

In some very rare moments, I manage to articulate exactly what my feelings are, without losing anything along the way.  This was one of them.

Pedestals

I have learnt from repeated, harsh, crushing, bruising experience, to trust my instincts.  Even when they seem counter-intuitive.  I will regret it otherwise.

The analogous lesson has so far not been applied to how I assess the needs of friends.

For all of the praises my friends have about my character, I have an above average habit for letting them down.

But more to the point, I have the habit of letting down ones I didn't expect to, which are always the worst possible ones to have let down in any situation. 

I'm trying; the first step is admitting there's a problem, but it's still something I seem to get very wrong a lot of the time.

Six feet happily underground

A friend told me they're still trying to work out what to say for my eulogy.

I didn't tell them I currently have every desire to be at theirs.

Truth is Singular

Mine.
...sort of.
How so?
*after a long pause* in many and varied ways, yes and no.

...stop being so accurate.

Living for the weekend

My old roommate came to stay.  We have a joke that we're not boyfriends.  I don't have any kind of romantic love for him.  He's not a soulmate.  But he's... a part of me?  ...a kindred spirit?
I realised how much I missed him.  How much I need him.  How much the little, quiet things he does became critical parts of my coping mechanisms.  He's so emotionally astute he acts before you even knew you needed him to. 

I remembered just how much of my support network I catastrophically lost within a matter of weeks.  How much everything fell apart at the same time.
I realized how I haven't managed to rebuild anything even resembling one facet of that structure.

I'm living for my escapes right now - a weekend off away from the world; the pain of getting beat up for sexual gratification; an afternoon where a fake world on a boardgame is the only version of reality; the heavy, struggling-to-breathe ache of a little too much hard liquor to 'celebrate' another week I've got through; a hockey game that feels as if I have an identity aside from the ones I absorb from other people.

I smile, I laugh, I experience the incomprehensible love my friends have for me. 
There are momentary brief incandescent flashes of blinding life.
But I still can't find a reason to fight, a reason to live for, something to strive towards. 

No one can say a word and give me that, I don't expect them too, it's not some misunderstanding that there's nothing good for me.  Bright burning moments just become anomalous data points in a generally declining lifeline. 

I still think about suicide daily.  I'm still trying to work out a plan that will succeed, that's viable, that's accessible.  Still just going through the motions until then for lack of anything else to do.  To keep occupied.  
If not I'd sit there, passively depressed.

I don't want to be passively depressed, I actively want to not be here constantly doing everything that is living. 

Even sleep.  Sleep is easier than most admittedly, but it's still something you do, and I'm seemingly more aware of my sleeping than most people, I notice the time pass while I sleep, and its something that takes effort, exertion, time, commitment, concentration.  Its less demanding, and importantly usually less taxing, than being awake, but it is still living.
And I am tired of living.

Nostalgia

You are the part of me I wish I didn't need.

Bear with me, this is likely to happen a lot over the next few days and weeks....

Augustana - Either Way I'll Break Your Heart Someday

Charlie Puth - Clarity (cover)

Boxcar Racer - There Is

Anberlin - A Day Late

The Other Guy

The selfish part of me needs for you to stay
'Cause boy you keep a smile stretched across my face
And I would give anything now
But you would lose everything now
The way your lips move when you say my name
The smell of your hair on my pillow case
And I would give anything now
But you would lose everything now

If I'd had it my way I'd never let you walk out the door
But my heart is heavy with something that I just can't ignore

Boy, I'm sitting here wondering what it is that we've done
Baby who am I to be that other guy?
'Cause I've seen tables turned, a world of hurt
I'd never wanna feel twice,
I know what it's like from the other side
So baby who am I to be that other guy?

This could be our home boy, a special place
Something much more than your great escape
Boy I would give anything now
If you didn't had everything now
It doesn't have to be that you feel the same
You're telling me your love for me would never change
Unless you change everything now
It doesn't mean anything now

If it's him that you've chosen, then we need to stop closing the door
'Cause while he's at home waiting, then we can't pretend there's something more

Boy, I'm sitting here wondering what it is that we've done
Baby who am I to be that other guy?
'Cause I've seen tables turned, a world of hurt
I'd never wanna feel twice,
I know what it's like from the other side

Ooh oh, I know it's not an easy choice to make
Ooh, 'cause no matter what you do
A heart will break
Boy, I'm sitting here wondering what it is that we've done
Baby who am I to be that other guy?
'Cause I've seen tables turned, a world of hurt
I'd never wanna feel twice,
I know what it's like from the other side
So baby you decide who is that other guy?
'Cause baby, who am I to be that other guy?

Jesse McCartney - The Other Guy (with some gender edits)

Stock racing time

Bonus point for the reference in the title, you'll need a little of the main post to piece it together.


I have a friend called Laura.  She's sweet bless her.  She is also oblivious, refuses to listen to advice, bitches constantly, and generally wonders why her life is a mess when everything seems out to get her.  Many an hour was spent in first year talking about the finer points of kitchen utensils in the classics common room with her.   In second year, I lived with her.  It did not go greatly.  She had a habit of knocking and entering my room, instead of knocking and waiting, which is an issue when you tend to sit around either naked or in boxers a lot in your room.  She also could not take a hint.  An entire 45 minute conversation was had with her sitting on the edge of my bed, me and chris lying with a duvet covering us and a very obvious trail of clothes from the door to the bed, and she at no point during the conversation realised perhaps she should come back later.  It is firmly accepted by all, that she was the cause of the 'break up' of the flat.  We were all pretty lazy, and it was a shitty place with endless problems, but it was cheap and in a great location just by St Pancras rail station, Laura made it worse; she rubbed people up the wrong way, failed to socialize with anyone in it other than me (thereby further straining both the absent relationships with the others, and the increasingly tiring relationship with me), never washed up, left hairs all over the bathroom etc...  Don't get me wrong there were good times; many a time was spent both staring at the fridge at 'the magic food hour'*, we were both insomniacs so kept each other company, loved out cheese music and once whiled away a good 4 hours on youtube listening to Lolly, Whigfield, O-Town, Spice Girls, etc...

Anyway, Laura text me the other day, asking if I wanted to meet.  I knew she'd recently got a job working in London so figured she must be finishing around the time she'd said to meet.  When I did meet her, it turns out she quit that job.  Now, granted, it was charity fundraising, which is not a job she's suited for at all, is damned hard work even for people it is suited too, and her boss was seriously hitting on her inappropriately, but she gave it up after a week, which seems typically Laura.  If it doesn't live up to expectations, not a dull office job, not a bar job, not being perved over, relatively decently paid, flexible time, decent holidays (please forward all such jobs to me), etc, she tends to give up straight away.  It was the same for essays in Uni.  We both took the same archaeology courses.  We knew nothing about archaeology, and the archaeology department refused to teach us anything about it, despite the fact our degree was supposed to include it.  She whined and bitched for 3 years about how she had no clue what to do.  I, whined and bitched for a bit, then went to the library, and read about 70 books on archaeology for my first essay.  I now understand archaeology, and even get 1's in my essays, so I clearly took the wrong subject.

This girl needs to learn to stick with things.  I've given up giving advice to her.  She's of the type of person where no matter what you proffer, she'll find some completely unrelated and hitherto unspoken exception to take to it, no matter how many times you adjust and refine your advice.  It's a waste of time and energy.  Now I just tend to nod and make an approving sympathetic noise every so often.  I'm good at that skill; I developed it young.  Truthful bitching over, she's still a friend, albeit one that I'm probably not likely to end up staying in close contact with for the rest of my life; there are a bare handful of people like that I've taken from university.  Another 2 handfuls worth that I'll talk to every once in a while; Laura probably falls into this category.  The total number probably doesn't exceed 20, possibly even 15.  My social circles have decreased massively in the past year...


The Five:  Chris, Lisa, Terence, Joel, Ryan


*The magic food hour, for those who don't know, is usually about 2am in the morning, but may strike at any time, and is a period where you are hungry, don't know what for, open the fridge, cupboards, freezer, etc, stand staring for 5 minutes, decide whatever you want, you don't have it, proceed to pace around idly for another 5 minutes, before returning back to the food stores, magically hoping something will have changed and suddenly your desires will be sated.  Rinse and repeat for a long period of time.  This tends to strike at 2am simply because most shops are shut then, and any that are open you usually can't be arsed to go to.  Magic is clearly aware of Murphy's law.

Ce bel amor qui ne peut mourir...

I miss you so much. It hurts. Like hell. Every single day. I know you're busy, and out of sight is out of mind, and neither of us have had time or money and your life requires the whole of you. And that's fine, but I still miss you. I still love you. I still want to be with you even though I can't. I miss the feel of you. I miss your smile. I miss the way how you melt into me when I hol you. I miss the wonder and amazement in your eyes, at every little thing in the world. I miss the way nothing is the same around you. I miss the need to try and kill you, because if I don't you'll actually kill me. I miss being the strong one for a change. I hate the fact you're so close and yet so far. I hate you live in the middle of nowhere. I hate that I have virtually no way of contacting you, ever. I'm scared that you hate me. I'm scared you don't actually like me that much anymore. I'm scared I'll never be included in your life. I'm scared you'll be gone before I get to see you one more time. I wonder why it takes us so long to admit we love each other every time we meet. I wonder why we eventually do admit it each time. I wonder when I'll next see, of if I'll even have that option.. I love you. I miss you. I need you. I want you. Please be mine.

Ce bel amor qui ne peut mourir...

I miss you so much. It hurts. Like hell. Every single day. I know you're hurting right now, and me, and us, and all that is probably exactly what you don't need to deal with at this moment. And that's fine, but I still miss you. I still love you. I still want to be with you even though I can't. I miss the feel of you. I miss your smile. I miss the way you'd hold me. I miss the way you look at me, like I'm the one in a higher league. I miss your cocky, arrogant bullshit. I miss fighting with you. I miss you beating me. I hate the fact you're 4500 miles away. I hate the fact I can't just jump on a bus, or a train and come and see you. I hate the fact that will never change. I hate that loving you is just something that will always be in our heads. I hate that too see you even once more, the entire universe would have to shift for me. I'm scared that you'll fall out of love with me. I'm scared you'll forget about me. I'm scared I'll always have to sit on the sidelines and watch. I wonder why you love me. I wonder why you told me you loved me. I wonder when, if ever, I'll next get a chance to see you again. I love you. I miss you. I need you. I want you. Please be mine.

A toast to those we love

Don't bother me with your time management issues. As it stands, tomorrow I have 2 tutorials, 2 hours of lectures, an opticians appoitnment, 2 pieces of coursework due in, 2 pieces needing to be done in time for thursday, and at some point I could really do with going to the fabric shops.

And so, quite naturally, I'm blogging.

The play is about 4 weeks away. For those who have spent anytime in the theatre industry, or film or tv for that matter, you'll know there's no such thing as 'part-time'. Especially when you're the fucking producer. That's a 70-odd hour working week to contend with. On top of that, I have to get to my lectures. And do an average of 3 pieces of coursework for each week. And I have labs most days for the next two weeks. I have to do all this whilst contending with some fairly severe insomnia at the moment, which whilst beneficial in the early stages, is slowly becoming more and more detrimental as i become increasingly sleep deprived.

So anyone who complains to me about how they dont have time for x, because they have an essay due, or that they were really tired last night and didn't get around to y, please be prepared for a fairly hostile reaction. On my better days I will throw something in your general direction and walk off. On the worse ones, I'll subject you to a tirade of verbal abuse, whilst simultaneously subjecting you to a tirade of physical abuse too. And not the fun kind of abuse..


I saw vampy last night. For those I don't know, I nickname most of my friends - see http://www.facebook.com/#/group.php?gid=2211953759&ref=ts - there's boring andrew, el diablo, vampy, alex rower, bblb, crazy jack, cute medic, not-so-hot ricki, and so forth... But anyway, back to vampy. I hadn't seen him in ages, and I certainly hadn't seen him properly in about 3 months. But he was in the area, so I visited, and got a free box of krispy kreme donuts (later donated to the classics dept). There was australian comedy, and drinking, and bizzare late night conversations i'm not at liberty to go into. But the dude is awesome.

In fact, it's something I've noticed recently; pretty much any of the people I actually *care* about spending time with (regardless how much i actually get to do so), I love in some way. I think it's cause I had a giant friend cull about 6 months ago, and so now the only people I bother myself with are people that are either in some way useful to me, or people that I can spend hours and hours with and never get bored.

I love Jme because he could make me laugh even if my parents had just died; I love Tania because she's modest to a criminal level; I love Vampy because of his bizzareness and ability to remain completely unjudgemental about all things with me; I love Joel because I don't need to find the words to explain what's going through my head; I love Graham because he's possibly the only person with any form of psychology training that I actually allow some sort of trust in; I love JP because he constantly makes me question why I'm not doing more to live the life I want instead of just accepting the 9-5 monotony of the modern day; I love Jack because he's insane, and broken, and does all the things even I could never dare to do; and I love Chris because he's stable, and keeps me from going off the many edges I seem to quite easily find myself in front of, and because he sees all the things that I could be; and there are others I haven't mentioned that I still love for a million different things.

And I love all these people because they love me in their own ways, and they accept me for who I am, even at my worst, my most hostile and aggressive, my most unattractive - physically and mentally.


Currently, my 5 people are Chris, Joel, Jack, Seany, and Jme. Sorry Lisa, either Seany or you had to go to make room for Jack and currently Seany doesn't cause me play stress every other day :P


Mood: Feeling the pressure; not quite frazzled, but definitely combusting.

Music: http://open.spotify.com/user/jorgamond/playlist/0BIpOp755HRVrFUXWdUX4E