The End

Today is the last day I'll post on this blog.

I'm moving to livejournal.

See ya.

Cold

As I write this I know the voices in my head are screaming for help. I've let this problem fester; left untreated this infectious wound has become gangrene. Now is the time to make a decision to sever it off or to die with it.

I'm not getting any input from the other side. I feel alienated from my own thoughts, my own feelings and my own needs. At the same time I want this relationship to work I realise I'm the only one clapping.

I've romantacised having someone I could hold in bed, wake up and have sex between the sheets, do silly things together, those sort of idealistic fantasy-world things. We don't do them. All I see is hurt, anger, distance and the feeling of helplessness.

There's been a breakdown in communication, we're not talking about the issues we have and I'm definitely not getting any input from his behaviour. I'm going to sit him down and try to get his side of the story later today; wish me luck.

Premonitions?

After six hours attempting to complete my essay I am flat out. At this hour the only sounds are from my keyboard, Connex trains on the Sydenham/Werribee lines, trucks on Footscray Rd and the hum of my trusty portable fan.

I quite like having the room to myself; on my table I've built up a collection of things that make me happy. Ear rings/studs from a while ago. Little cutouts of pusscat hidden between pieces of wrapping paper. A bottle of Jungle Juice, half used. I love them all.

Nightmares. It's unusual to have these dreams so early in the day. I've had exactly thirty seven minutes on my pillow but that's enough time to make me reconsider sleeping. It was a dream about mom, she was making me eat soap because I didn't do my homework. Tiny fragments of memory are all that's left of her.

Pampering myself in front of the heater is indulgence; I'm sure pusscat would agree. Greville St. One year ago we were happy, pusscat was healthy and the world was predictable. I miss how he climbed limb onto my lap to say "hug me, bitch". He's gone now.

How do you deal with self-righteousness? Yesterday I thought I was the best person in the world; for the first time I looked at my body in the mirror and considered touching myself, now I didn't mean it that way but I felt I would do me.

Daniel is still coping with a few issues/insecurities of his own, mainly sleep issues I think. I've let myself breathe a little; these days I am beyond obsessing. Maybe I'm still grieving?

Two apartments. I'd like to have one for myself and one for him. Then I can make a little space for myself without intrusions, lavish myself on furniture and fittings he will grudgingly admire, cook horrible smelling things to his disgust and plant a forest in the corner of my brown/beige lounge. Everything will be brown/beige. Straight lines. Clean surfaces. Because minimalist decor seeks feelings, not provides it. Clutter reduces my ability to think.

I admit I'm scared but happy. I have twelve whole weeks to feel good about this place.

Direction

I've been thinking long and hard about the way forward.

Two years later and people are casting doubts on my ability to stay focused. I can't blame them.

Rummaging through the pile of crap on my table I can see what I've started to do. Hoard. I'm letting things accumulate, putting them in little stacks in descending order of importance. Leave it for later. Everything according to priority and space in this universe.

Things have been going really slowly. Been to Euroa for a 21st birthday party. Had some time to think on the paddocks and granite outcrops that dotted it. Lots of unhealthy bogan food to keep my tummy unhappy. Great company, lots of beer and other mysterious things, more time to think. And kissing the lips of a guy not into me, not so clever.

But a weekend away nonetheless. Now it's back to basics, back to searching for direction. Or rather thinking a lot about the arrival of the direction than the direction itself.

Because when I find it I want to be able to say, "told you it was coming".