So about 6 months ago we did a full circle. Right back
the guy I had started this thing about two years ago. That’s weird, huhp
P
.pp
However this time it was without the weirdness, we did things together, pwent places, met each others friends, smoked together, cooked together, did a lot together. That lasted about three months before he dropped the bombed that I was just a rebound. To none other but the pretty little short haired artist.
Bitter ol’ me.
Anyway, full circle.
“He paced into the boys bathroom. Headed straight to the sink and calmly turned the tap. He cupped his hands and let them fill with the icy water and l.p
Psuddenly threw it towards his face. He felt a chill go down his spine and felt as energised as he would after a cup of strong coffee.
He let the water drip down his face along with his own tears and grabbed the sides of the sink for support.
Looking up at himself in the mirror he could hardly recognise himself. His once fresh face was now creased with red raw eyes, chapped lips and grey skin. He looked like a mess and he was too far in to be able to stop now.
He let his fingers run down his hollowed cheeks and along his lips, as if he were trying to see if he could even feel anything anymore, or if it had all just gone numb.”
What I have learnt is the broken pieces and glue can make something completely new.
After the drama of the past few weeks I have found myself in a calm, ethereal place.
I love my friends, I love my family, I love my house, my art, my dog, my city, I am a lucky person.
When he ended it last week I felt shattered, but I mainly just felt tired and the next day I woke up with a grin on my face, excited to start fresh. New school. New friends. New Jules.
I guess if I’m not upset it can’t of mattered to me at all. And to be honest he didn’t. It may sound bitter but he was boring. And I’ve decided to eliminate boring people from my life. I guess he never made me feel numb like his best friend did every time he was around me.
That sounds really weird but if you look back to last years writing he was the skinny, 6″, bass player with the short haired, artist attached to his waist.
After reading ‘We all looked up’ by Tommy Wallach I have decided to live every day to the max. I will accept of experiences that come my way even if the idea completely terrifies me. Because if I died tomorrow, right now I would say that I wasn’t ready. That I regret my life.
I don’t want to feel like that.
L
I’m excited to start school on Monday. To be at college with people who are in love with theatre and art like I am.
I’m ready to start again.
I forget how therapeutic it was here.
How good it feels to write your thoughts no matter how stupid they may seem.
It feel good to write them as though they were poetry.
It helps you pretend that your life is well maintained and structured like literature.
It probably isn’t.
I’ve found that I have the complete incapability to cry. The most I’ve gotten is forced tears from small pieces of dust.
The last time I cried I believe to be the last. It took two hours to get it all out that day. Now I fear that I cried all of it out.
Crying’s good for you, it lets your mind know that you are actually feeling something and that your body isn’t just a feeling of intense happiness that comes after some sort of “happy little pill”.
I’ve experienced a lot since I last wrote anything down. I finished school for good and now get to practise at being an unemployed actress. I have looked for part time work and failed. I have gone out on midnight wanders with the girl next door. I have stood on that bridge and felt the world zoom past once again. I have ran through restricted fields without shoes. I have had drugged up picnics with people that to the outside world are yobs, hooligans, scum. I know them to be the kindest and most thoughtful friends I shall ever know.
I have 13 days now until my best friend leaves. At some point I’ll really have to tell him he’s my best friend.
I now am split in half with lifestyles. Two weeks here, two weeks there. Back and forth and back and forth and I truly still fell like that five year old that couldn’t make up her mind so decided to make it more confusing for herself.
Anyhow.
The reason why I am so pissed. The reason why I can’t let go.
I got broken a long time ago and you can interpret that however you please because that’s not what matters.
What matters was his existence, more specifically his existence in my life.
He appeared and suddenly my life had a pritt stick and was able to sort if self out. I felt happy for the first in a long time. I had that happiness that I had only heard of, that kind of happiness where you know that everything is the best it will ever be and that it can only go down.
That’s why I’m still fighting, its why I’m still caring, I’ll never get over the fact that he was my first glue.
I looked at my boots advantage card points from the past two years today.
I was astonished that for some reason I seem to have gained over a hundred pounds worth of points.
For reason I was upset. I cried when I got home and I’m just beginning to understand why.
I was upset because I thought that this is what it has come to.
Me believing that I need thousands of products to male myself look this generations idea of “acceptable”.
Even though I’ve had a ” revelation” about all this, I probably won’t stop.
The world has thoroughly screwed us over.
I had gotten close to her so she wanted me there.
Dresses were worn and drinks were downed and a good time was had. from then across the room they were with his now sore red eyes and his thinned face and her neat fringe and can in hand.
He stared at me like he had forgotten that we had used to walk along the rivers together and that he had told me those 3 words that I don’t seem to trust anymore.
I covered myself in whatever I could find to make his destroyed image disappear.
6 bottles in the kitchen. 3 puffs outside.
A young adult leading me to a bedroom that later seemed to disappear.
A countdown then came and just to be lame – a kiss was had with a stranger in hopes to just forget.
The last time I saw them that night was in the centre kissing in the light and not letting go of their hands.
I left and threw it up with my friend by my side and fell asleep next to a friend on a bench beside our river.
This year just before Christmas, we decided that we didn’t want to say “happy holidays” over Facebook, but be there. all together.
So, at 11.35pm on Christmas Eve, we found ourselves sneaking out of our homes and to her house, where we all clambered to the roof and possibly scaring off Old Saint Nick.
At the stroke of midnight, the eight of us were laid there in silence, watching the world be still for a moment. Quietly wishing the cars passing by “Merry Christmas” and thanking the stars for our existence.
Not one of us spoke for a long time, in fact seven of us fell asleep right there on the flattened roof.
It was me who finally disturbed their unbroken dreams at around 4.23am and we all clambered off the roof groggily, totally oblivious to that beautiful ten minutes 4 hours ago.
Maybe it seemed oblivious, because to them it might not have been magical. In fact they may have found it odd. But I like to believe and I will always believe that that was one of the best Christmases I have ever woken up to.
Christmas seems like a nice tradition, right? A time for kicking you’re heels back and just saying “f*** it.”. Wrong.
Right now, christmas is a burden on my mind that is causing me to lose face. Why you ask?
Well, between all the exam revision, the typical “boy troubles”, the late nights, work and the endless episodes on Netflix, I have zero time to begin even thinking about it.
Plus, the constant nagging from my currently disabled father about whether the lights are straight or the sainsuburys order has come in, Christmas isn’t seeming too thrilling.
However, there is that essence of wonder behind those twinkling lights and the many shopping bags, that leaves a question unanswered – What is Christmas all about?
Popular belief suggests that it is about family. Other more greedy souls suggests it’s about the gift they may or may not receive. Everyone else says that it is just another holiday.
But, to all these I disagree. Christmas for me is just an excuse to pretend you’re happy.
Happy Holidays.
anonymousjoules123 