Tethered to Nothing

The in-between space, the gap between the chapters, the blank space after a cliff hanger.

I feel suspended in nothing; unmoving, dangling, teetering on the edge of last year but not quite falling into the future of the coming months.

Someone once told me that a culture, I think in Maria told me, so it might be Italians or Japanese, use the phrase 'look forward' the other way around. Their metaphor is that we are walking backwards, seeing the past, blind to the future. I've always thought its much more appropriate, and sensible. The only thing it lacks is the optimism of moving forward; the idea that you are moving 'on', you are getting better, levelling up, learning. I think that's why our culture describes it as forwards and backwards - we have to believe that there is more, there is progression, that forwards is further, its harder, its happier, its a greater sense of achievement, its a stronger sense of understanding.

I don't know which way I'm facing. I'm dangling off a cliff, slowly spinning in the wind.

Which way is up from here?

I'm excited for my holiday, for getting away for a few days to clear my head and sort through the piles of thoughts that have been gathering dust and tattered edges, as I've shuffled them, organised them, moved them around and then got them all out again for re-evaluation. Its fair to say that I over-think things.


I wish one of them would realise how much I need a win right now. How long its been, and how the little negatives have started to feel really heavy.

You're The One That I Want

Can you look into my eyes and tell me that I'm beautiful?

Can you promise me that you do love me, even if it's not in that way?

Can you hold my hand safely in yours, fingers wrapped around mine, and guide me to where I need to go?

I can't leave here, because I can't leave you. I'm addicted now; like a moth to flame.

It's sick, that I slightly enjoy my own heartache. Like a muse, I find myself writing more, reading more, watching, learning, listening more. Like a flower opening up to sunlight, and accidentally letting all the bees in. 

You know that scene from love actually, with Andrew Lincoln and Kiera knightly, and the big flash cards? He tells her that he loves her 'without hope or agenda'. I can't. I will always hope; it's my one weakness, my downfall in front of you, that I can't stop hoping.

Maybe one day you'll fall for me. Maybe it will be the same day I stop hoping. 

But whilst nothing changes, I won't make my feelings your burden or guilt. 

I will tell you that you are beautiful, and really mean it.

I will tell you that I love you,  in the best way.

I will hold your hand if you need a friend, and I will help you get where ever you want to go, because I want to go there too.

'Cos You're There For Me Too

I've always had a bit of an issue with the term 'best friend'. Like, one person who is better than all other people is the best. With that terminology, each person can only have one best friend. I have half a dozen, because they're all amazing at certain things. 

More so than usual, my best friends have been helping me keep my head, and my heart, in the right place. And thank god I have more than one; if I'd had to dump all the stuff I have onto one friend to help me with, they would not have been as strong as the five people around me have been instead.

Sam

You've done something which no one else could do: you've taken the one thing I couldn't untie myself from and you've burnt the knot for me. We already know that time and space doesn't change our friendship; now we have to remember how to be best friends in the same time and space. It feels weird sometimes, like we need to put in some boundaries or restrictions. I'd rather have you here than not; I know you help me more than you are an awful influence (especially on my liver), and it feels nice to be able to give you what I've got: supportive, stupid friends to escape work with.

Ben

I don't notice it until you go to work. I pretend that I have my life more in order than you but at the end of the day, you'll tell me to go to bed, to not have that last pint, to try judge life on more than the issues I have with my family. To know me inside out, to know when I need a hug and when I need a kick up the arse, and to know that no matter what, we'll always be best friends, in our superman and batman costumes, mucking around in the driveway, pretending to be superheroes.

Henry

I wanted, at 9am the other day, watching you munch your way through yesterdays rice, your shirt and cardigan clashing, your eyes red with alcohol and a lack of sleep, to tell you that I consider you one of my best friends. That I think the reason I still have feelings for you is because you are a much better person than most of the people I tend to fall for. But you're also an idiot who stays up all night just because someone else is still awake, will continue drinking even when he's too far gone, will refuse to eat even when he's hungry, will give up smoking just to start again, will drink tea in the middle of the night even though he can never get to sleep, and will always be here for me, and have a chat with me, and stay up late with me, even though you know that you are the problem.

Luke

We've had a weird year and a half, but its been the best decision I ever made and I have you to thank for that entirely. Not just for orchestrating yourself and Jack to move out, or just for finding this particularly magnificent pile of bricks and wood that we call home; not just for creating the feel of a family, having dinner together, watching films and making this place feel like a better version of home, or for doing your best to piss off everyone else in the flat when you come home: I mainly want to thank you for taking a chance and inviting me into this world too; its not something that is clearly visible to the others, but I'll always make us dinner, keep this place clean and be happy to see you home, because you're the one who gave me this chance in the first place.

Chris

Its surprising how much has happened between us. That first summer, at the locks, involved lots of working, lots of drinking as a group, and occasionally us doing random things together. And since then you've become a part of this flat, you've grown up and we've all changed in little ways and now I find myself entirely grateful for all the weird things that have happened between us, as I have an amazing friend to laugh with, sit comfortably with, and get drunk with, and on the odd occasion that I can't handle my drink, he deals with drunk, crying, ridiculous me. I can't thank you, or apologise, enough.

I love you guys. 

Separated by One Wall

I can't get over you.

Its a safe assumption that I won't be under you anytime soon either.

I feel myself getting wrapped around you; I can't get away long enough to get free. Like elastic, or a magnet, I just get drawn straight back.

Its the most frustrating thing. I have become bitter, twisted, angry at others who have similar issues. Somehow this bubbly feeling that happens, somewhere between my lungs and my liver; its broken me.

I wish I could hit delete on this emotion. I wish I could undo this year for the sake of not wasting my time with it. I wish I could just yell all these feelings at you and then run away for a month and not have to deal with you being so damn charming about everything.

I wish I could become 'default drunk laura' and just numb all emotions, sleep with random people and come out of the situation through the wrong door. That version of me has gone. I think she got lost in the maize.

I wish I didn't feel so disgusting when Duke tried it on with me. I wish I could just say 'yeah, why not' and wake up to another mistake.

I can't. I can't let other people in while you are in my head. I can't even let other people touch me while you are in my head. Im a helter skelter on your little finger because I don't know how to do anything now. Even a quick drink at the pub... well, leads to this.

Have me. Hurt me. Hate me. Hit me. Harass me.   Help me. Do something. Anything.

Because I can't live here, like this, for much longer.

Thank You

We say it a lot this time of year: as we pay for presents, as we hand over gifts and receive tokens of love, we thank those around us. How much do those two words mean, how far do they go, and what positivity do they spread in a world of finding negatives and disregarding our own faults just to criticize others?

I want to thank a few people. This isn’t Thanksgiving, I’m not jumping on the American tradition, I just think that if there is one time in the year to actually show some emotions and happiness and gratitude, its at Christmas.

Two people I want to thank for having the courage to engage in conversation. The silence I heard for too long created a certain ring, a shrill tinnitus at the back of my mind. The ringing has stopped and I’m so happy just to have opened over that conversation box again. I know the risks and the problems that might come along with it all, but thank you for risking it anyway. Thank you for wanting to hold on to our friendship too.

To the new family, the mish mash of kids and teenagers who I spend more time with than my actual friends and family, on the most part, you’ve made the small hell I might be in more bearable. You’ve made me laugh, made my job easier, and stuck up for me, and especially the two favorites, I can’t imagine a week at the Tree without your presence. Thanks for being on this journey with me.

Of all the friends, of all the people who have stuck their neck out for me or given me a hand when I was falling, there is one person I need to thank more than any one else. One person who has literally been a shoulder to cry on, he’s put up with my drastic mood changes and issues, had his ear talked off about all the struggles I couldn’t cope with and been company, even if its just a silent presence, the knowledge that he’s in the next room, and if I need to break down and freak out, he’s right there, and he’ll make me a tea and tell me to buck up, life could be worse.

To Matt and David, to Milo and Molly, and to Henry: thank you. It’s been a strange year, so here’s to next year being bigger, better, and brighter.

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!

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.