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
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.
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.
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.