the end of the beginning

Something wicked this way comes.

Its neither daunting nor enlightening. It is change, and it is coming. A gradual but inevitable change.

I wish to seize all opportunities. I cannot sit through this current life. Its frustrating and aggravating. I feel disconnected from the person I was before all this began. I feel like I've grown, but what into, I'm still not sure.

I don't know what will happen here. I don't know where I'll be, what I'll be doing. I have no answers, no solutions, only knowledge of change. Sweeping change, like a hurricane.

I like living here. I like my space, my comfort, and my surroundings. Its not been especially easy, but its better than what I had before. I don't know if I'll lose it in the change. So I'm trying to hold on to it a bit; appreciate the finer things. Learn to dance in the rain.

Before I leave, I want to tell them both that I love them. They've been better friends than I would have thought possible, and they've been my normal this year. This year has both been long and tiresome, and equally has flashed past in an instant. 

Christmas is fast approaching. Plans are being made, relatives are coming out of the woodwork, and at some point soon, I'll start making lists of presents, gifts, tokens of love. 

Until then, I enjoy the approaching cold weather. It tells me that things get worse before they get better. It tells me that change is seasonal, its inherent, you can't stop it or fight it, but if you wrap up well, you can enjoy it.

Nine

I'll never stop.


I forgot I had these feelings, and yesterday they resurfaced. I remembered them, every single little emotion, like they'd just been sleeping.

You were my best friend.

You'd talk to me; we'd always have stuff to chat about. I always felt more open; more comfortable being open with you; it came so easily.

You'd sleep next to me. We'd sit together in class; we'd watch films or play playstation and you were so close to me, all of the time.

I know I messed things up; I've said it on here before. But third year was different. When we did talk, you were defensive. And I was on the attack. I'd ask you questions you didn't want to answer and I always felt like I wasn't just talking to you; I was talking to the three girls you lived with too.

I stopped asking those questions but I didn't stop hoping that somewhere in your head, I'd made you listen. I never stopped hoping that.

I still haven't watched saw seven, and stupidly, naively, it's because I hope to watch it with you one day. I'm owed it.

Take it however you want to; ignore it, call me crazy, or decide that I'm just rehashing old thoughts for funnies - but I know you. Or, I knew you. And I'm not going to give up on that guy, and I never will.

Even if we never speak; even if I never see you again; even if I meet a man who wants to marry me; even if you tell me you hate me; I'll never stop loving you.