I like the way you're always there

Whenever things go bad.

I like that you don't ask of me

To tell you when I'm sad.

I like that when I've screwed things up

You're two keyboards away.

I like that, when I talk to you,

You brighten up my day.

I like that wherever I go

I can always return

I like the way you've taught me more

Than I thought I could learn.

I like that, when I see you,

You just smile and never speak.

I like the talks on Monday nights

That cheer me up all week.

I like that you mean this to me

And that you keep me sane;

I like that you, no matter what,

Can make me whole again.

 

Written last night, 11:45 pm

What to do next?

 

I can't think what to do next, can't see where to go now... I can see what the end result ought to be, what I want it to be but... I'm floundering.  I have no direction.

 

It's all very well, isn't it, showing everyone else a direction, and god knows I've been doing a lot of that recently...

 

Don't think I'm not happy at the moment, I'm having the time of my life, contrary to all my moaning, because I'm slowly but surely working out who I am and what I do and that is a good position to be in.  Apart from the odd twinge of guilt, everything's rosy.

 

Now all I have to do is help out the people who aren't in that happy situation.

 

There are too many of you for comfort.

 

We can do this together.  That is my calling.

Oh god what have I done?

 

You know that choice?  You know the one, or, at least, one of you does.

 

I don't know where I am, I don't know what I'm doing, I'm feeling in the dark here...

 

Don't judge me on it, please, I don't mean to hurt you like that... My only excuse is that I don't know where I am, there's too much vying for my attention and the one thing I remember is something I'm better off forgetting.

 

Give me a while, just to sort out where I am.

 

Then I can tell you what I'm thinking.

 

In the meantime - don't tear yourself to pieces.  My consicence is ripped apart for you at the moment...  I want more than anything to tell you it's okay but right now, it's in limbo.

 

We'll get there.

I've been bombarded with Valentine's Day images all day today... from so many different sources... and it makes me feel SICK.  It makes me remember...

 

A few years ago I made the most beautiful Valentine's card I have ever created.  The most beautiful card.  It took all my resources, and two hours of sustained effort.  And then the phone call came... and it never got sent.  I still have it, addressed to a person I couldn't look in the eye again now and wouldn't dream of sending it to.  I thought of erasing the name and saving it for the right moment, the right person - but it wouldn't work.  I made it with someone else in mind.  It can never be sent to anyone else.

 

That card is destined never to be sent.

Dear H:

Are you trying to mock me?  Are you?  You can't do it.  That's MY game.  That's what I do.  You can't beat me at my own game.  Trust me, I'm not just saying that.  You didn't manage it this time, and you didn't manage it last time either.  So don't even try.  Just don't.

 

Dear ??:

DON'T DO THAT... It hurts enough just thinking about you and now... god you're perfect.  I'm just getting shivers down my spine writing this.  You know when you can hardly breathe for that swelling in your stomach when everything is so wonderful and perfect and... oh...  Sorry.  I only wish you knew it was you I'm writing about.  But if you do know... someone's got a lot of explaining to do...

 

Dear S:

That wasn't about who you think it was about.

 

Dear everyone who thinks they're a born romantic:

No goddamnit I'm not going to tell them.  No.  NO.

Why am I suddenly plunged into Nowhere?  Nothing?  Nobody?

 

I'm all alone again.  That which I crave has all but diappeared.

 

Happy endings are all good, and don't get me wrong they're a breath of fresh air... but I like the chase.  The knowing that it's just around the corner... and it's going to be good.  And I can get there, I can steer the boat out of the storm...

 

The scent's gone cold.  The last few days, all traces have disappeared... and the storm is so long, so cold...

 

But I'll get there.  You can be sure, I'll get there.

 

I'm made of sterner stuff.  That's my mantra.

It takes her a few moments on the train to realise what she’s doing.  Running away, this is called.  This is what it’s like.  She’s been planning this for years, what she would do, how she would do it, but she hasn’t planned tonight.  She has no clue what the hell is going on.  The only thing she knows is she can’t go back.  There’s no chance of that now, unless she wants her brains knocked out.

            “One to Southampton,” she says to the ticket officer before she knows what she is saying.  Why Southampton?!  Of course they’ll expect that.  They’ll probably be in the car right now, going to the station as fast as they can… but there’s nowhere else she can think of.  She knows where she wants to go, she’s known that for years, but she knows the train timetables too well to think there’ll be a way there at this time of night.  Southampton it is then.  She hands over the money and takes the ticket.

            What to do next?  There is only one place that could take her in, only one place she could go.  I mean, a police station, okay, but they’d just take her back.  And that’s the last place she wants to go right now.

            It’s getting dark.  The weather has been horrible all day and her fear turns to panic as she remembers…

            “Well, you could always come here.”  There is someone, someone who knows where she wants to go, somewhere they would never think of looking… but that was ages ago.  There’s no way back to that.

            There is no alternative.  She rings the number.  A boy’s voice answers.  “Hello?”

            “Ring me back.  Please.  Please help me.”

            “What’s going-”

            “Just help me.”  She hangs up.  Her phone rings.

            “What’s going on?” he says.

            “I- I need somewhere to go.  I need somewhere to stay.  Just for tonight.”

            “But- why me?  Why not-”

            “Because that’s too obvious.  They’ll be looking for me.”

            “Look…”

            “Do you remember last year?  When this nearly happened?  And you promised I could come to you?”

            “Yes, but-”

            “Well that’s now.”

            The voice sighs.  “When can I expect you?”

            “About twenty minutes.”

            “I’ll come down to the station.”  He hangs up.

            Relief floods through her.  It’s going to be okay.  Because a promise made…

It's alright for some.

 

It's started.

 

I did what was best.  I don't have hindsight yet, I didn't then, please don't judge me for it.  I did what I thought was best at the time and that is all I can do.

 

Here we go.

 

I hate rollercoasters.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Best exam of the day:  Erm actually (BLASPHEMY!!!!) has got to be Spanish speaking (OMG CANNOT BELIEVE I JUST SAID THAT) because...

Worst exam of the day:  English Lang was pretty horrendous.  I mean, it's got to be if I'd rather have another round with the Spanish speaking...

Most difficult: Spanish.  Although it must be said English was a bit horrible.

Easiest: ***NOT IN EXAM VOCABULARY, PLEASE TRY AGAIN AFTER I'VE DONE THE CHEMISTRY ONE***

Most *interesting* moment: Calling Charlie Dimmock a rising star.  I screwed up SO bad on English, I swear.

Let the creative juices flow:  Spanish conversation.  Why the hell did I feel the need to start talking about penguins??

Looking forward to Monday: History and Physics.  Joy of joys.  They want me in an early grave, I swear they do.

 

I thought I was over this.  I did.  I thought it was gone... but obviously not.  Why was I crying in an EXAM?!  I'm not meant to even be thinking about it... At least it was only English.  Only English.  What am I thinking?  It's what I want to do.  And I screwed it up BIGTIME.

I didn't enjoy the English exam, you know.

Oh, god.  Oh, GOD.

 

I hate Spanish.  I don't know why I did the damn subject, except that German is horrific and the French teachers are, frankly, a bit Draconian.

 

Other than that... oh GOD.

 

And now I am going into an exam - a SPEAKING EXAM - where they're marking me on my bloody LISP - prepared only with half a page entitled "Cooking an Omelette".  Jamie Oliver may be some people's god (cough you know who you are) but... in times of need...

 

What is Naked Chef in Spanish?  Anyone???

 

Whoever invented Conversation deserves to die.  Conversation is supposed to be general chit-chat about not very much, usually accompanied by a party-hat, a glass of white wine and some Twiuglets.

 

And now it's an exam.

 

And I hate it.

 

'"Will you walk into my parlour?" said the Spider to the Fly.'

I got a book for Christmas.

 

Well, New Year, really.  Because I wasn't in the country for Christmas, so we celebrated it later.

 

It's called "Change the world for a fiver".  It's by a lovely group of people called We Are What We Do.

 

 

I've got my resolutions for this year sorted out now.  There are a lot of them... including - I have decided - I am going to reguster as an organ donor.  Anyone can do it, regardelss of age, as long as you tell your family.  I found that out... about ten minutes ago.

 

Anyone going to join me?

 

Except for the 21% of the population who already has.

 

You can't give blood 'til you're 17.  Roll on 17.