Tuesday 30 December 2014

End of the Line

Almost the end of a long and exhausting year. 

I feel like I could sleep for a week knowing what has happened this year. But sleep wouldn't calm my frantic mind; my dreams are wild and vivid these days.

I wouldn't have expected this year to have happened the way it did. So much I wanted to do but never got round to. So much I did do that I didn't plan, both good and bad. 

I spend these last precious days with loved ones; those most precious to me. And yet again it is one face burning my retina, haunting my dreams. 

Changes and resolutions; but it's not prompted by the new year, but by a second chance, a clean leaf. 

January will see excitement and change. February I'll be busy and focused. Then I'll spend March figuring out the rest of my year. Full steam ahead!

Wednesday 3 December 2014

And Those We've Left Behind

I want to explain it. Explain how it sits in my head. Why him? To what end, for what reason?

I need to go back to the beginning.

September 2008, first day at university, and this guy bounces into the room and at first I think he seems quite a lot like Dukie.

I got to know him, and they aren't that alike. A few small similarities, in that we have good chats. I can ask a question about a film, a book, a comic, whatever - and we'll have a good half hour debate about its varying impacts on culture and the relevance to our world. I remember that first big conversation, sitting in KFC, I think, discussing Saw.

Also, pleasantries. Like, Duke is a good barman because he can put on a face and only lets people who know him see the miserable grump underneath the sarcastic smile. But catch either of them on a good day and the smile; the humour: its infectious.

I've gone over it before so I'll just summarise that by the end of first year he hated me, and by the end of second year we'd gone through every emotion under the sun and half way through third year something stopped. I gave up trying to get through; felt my efforts were futile. I was in Brighton for 10 months and apart from briefly seeing him at graduation and briefly texting afterwards, all was quiet. I had that weird revelation last year and decided to contact Sophie again and he fell into the same revelation but it wasn't like no time had passed; like nothing had changed. All felt right with Sophie again but with him, it was still unclear, unresolved, and my questions were never answered.

That was in November of 2012, exactly a year after graduation.

The following August, I move into the flat in Bungay. The oppression of living with my parents had affected me weirdly and I did a few bizarre things in those first few months - Black Wednesday being one of the worst. Everything that started with Max was entirely emotionless, and because he grossed me out and disgusted me, it ended very suddenly one day and I decided that there was no point anymore.

But at the same time, Dukie was happening. I think I slept with him 4 times. Maybe 5. And this is over the course of a year of living down the road from each other. And people ask why him? I was relatively sober one of the times, and I've let him sleep in my bed (under the strict policy that nothing would be happening). So why cut Max off, and not Dukie? Granted, the people asking me this haven't had sex with both boys to know how easy a comparison is actually is, but still, it is often asked.

When he's in a good mood, and we've been chatting, Duke reminds me of him. Especially when I've had a drink, I just long for the closeness and friendship from a guy I haven't seen in two years.

Its horrendous because I don't want a relationship with Duke, and I'm sure he doesn't want one either; we have a laugh and we've never been awkward around each other, so this casual thing we do every now and then, it might not ever end. Not whilst we're both single and live in Bungay. And that's why the last time he came round and got in my bed I told him no. I don't want to get this quick fix from him every now and then. Its not healthy and its not right.

Plus, I hate the feeling of Henry judging me. Anyone else can call me a slut and I don't care; when he says it, it stings like shit. The only way to fix that, is to not give him a reason to call me a slut.