Well, it's the beginning of my third and final year at Uni. Nothing feels different, and so far nothing very amazing has happened. If anything, bad things have happened so far. But still, I want to hold on to it all, really savour this last ever Autumn term, and make damn sure I don't fuck it up, in any way. OK, brief history of me: I got born one day. Wasn't very remarkable - my Dad actually missed it, as he needed to pee and the closest toilet was the public loo in the subway underneath St Stephen's Street roundabout. Turns out, that toilet got closed and locked up because someone got raped there and the council saw it as an 'eyesore'. But yeah, after my birth nothing much happened until well, now, when I started writing things. Never thought I'd be a writer when I was younger - always had a knack for poetry, but hey, I was being emo, it's what we did. But here I am, studying as a screenwriter. Can't quite put together how I got here. Its a long and boring story. I'll probably tell it one day, but no one will be listening. Which, by the way, is why I've decided to start a blog. Apparently, I sometimes find life too difficult, and telling people about it doesn't always help. And I'm sure as hell not paying for some psychologist to tell me I have distance problems with my parents. I already know that. So instead, I'm writing things. Hopefully nothing will ever get too hairy, but I guess if it does it just makes for a good read from someone else. And so, to launch into my first issue.
Trust. It's something everyone holds so dear, but we can't feel it, grab it or rip it up. Its there in us, like a tiny muscle in your ankle, that you never pay any attention to until you fall down and you feel like your foot has been ripped off. And from then on, your constantly worried that if you step wrong, that little muscle just won't hold up. I recently fell. And it wasn't a silly trip on a pavement, it was a friend, and I got pushed. And I haven't dared walking again yet, because I'm sort of terrified, but I don't know what of. And I don't want to wave goodbye to the use of my foot... Wait, this metaphor is getting ridiculous. I can't trust him, but I want to. I really do. And I want to be normal with him, but I can't yet. And I know time is the greatest healer, but I found out last week that even after eight months of solidarity and commitment with my boyfriend, he still can't trust me. It was eight months ago, and I have moved so far forward I don't recognize my old self anymore. And yet, time hasn't healed him. So will it heal me? For my friend's sake, I really hope it does. And for my sake, I hope we can be friends again, because I miss him. He seems so close yet so far, as cliched as that sounds. Or maybe it's a matter of pride... Nah, I'll tackle that one another day. For now, I know what I'm missing.