Sunday, September 08, 2002
lainey writes in her blog, or rather, wrote in her blog a while back that she was missing someone so badly it hurt. I can identify with that, or rather I could identify with that once. It chafes at you, everything around you reminds you of that person. You miss her laugh, that quizzical look in her eye as she cocked her head at you, the pensive scowls she occasionally wore that could just as easily be replaced by the most brilliant grins as another thought flitted through that very complicated mind of hers.
When faced with an individual in distress we often resort to the easy solution. Murmur something about time healing all wounds, placate them. Tell them things you expect based on your own life experiences... who seriously loves someone enough that you still hurt decades later. Only people in trashy romance novels, or the weird loonies who get married at fifty-something after twelve failed marriages because they were always meant for each other. Said weird loonies always seem to get a lot of publicity too. Perhaps something to bear in mind for when I'm fifty something? :)
Except it isn't always right. almost half a decade down the line the pain's still there. Dulled but not quite dead. Memories of a certain her are foggy now. I can't see your face anymore, just a vague feeling... an awareness of who you were once. A feeling of what it was like to be in your presence, but dulled with time. No longer intoxicating, just pleasurable, but comfortably so. And that, I think will vanish eventually as well. And the damndest thing is I don't want it to. I thought once upon a time I needed it to. But now I'm clinging. Clawing. Flailing and failing.
And I rationalise it all to myself. Tell myself I don't know you anymore and that it's a memory of a shadow I miss now, a shade who doesn't exist anymore save in my mind.
Someone told me that she dreams of people and then freakily enough they appear in real life in front of her the next day. Are you going to appear in front of me soon, in the flesh? But then again, you'd have appeared quite a few times by now.
I miss you so much it hurts.
Only if I tell myself enough, and if I forget enough, the hurt is just a dull ache. costochondritis, rather than unstable angina. And that wasn't even funny.
When faced with an individual in distress we often resort to the easy solution. Murmur something about time healing all wounds, placate them. Tell them things you expect based on your own life experiences... who seriously loves someone enough that you still hurt decades later. Only people in trashy romance novels, or the weird loonies who get married at fifty-something after twelve failed marriages because they were always meant for each other. Said weird loonies always seem to get a lot of publicity too. Perhaps something to bear in mind for when I'm fifty something? :)
Except it isn't always right. almost half a decade down the line the pain's still there. Dulled but not quite dead. Memories of a certain her are foggy now. I can't see your face anymore, just a vague feeling... an awareness of who you were once. A feeling of what it was like to be in your presence, but dulled with time. No longer intoxicating, just pleasurable, but comfortably so. And that, I think will vanish eventually as well. And the damndest thing is I don't want it to. I thought once upon a time I needed it to. But now I'm clinging. Clawing. Flailing and failing.
And I rationalise it all to myself. Tell myself I don't know you anymore and that it's a memory of a shadow I miss now, a shade who doesn't exist anymore save in my mind.
Someone told me that she dreams of people and then freakily enough they appear in real life in front of her the next day. Are you going to appear in front of me soon, in the flesh? But then again, you'd have appeared quite a few times by now.
I miss you so much it hurts.
Only if I tell myself enough, and if I forget enough, the hurt is just a dull ache. costochondritis, rather than unstable angina. And that wasn't even funny.
Tuesday, September 03, 2002
It was sunny today. Some of my best memories revolve around sunlight. Sunlight coming off the harbour creating an intense, all enveloping glare. Sunlight streaming through the metalwork of the harbour bridge. Sunlight beating relentlessly down onto the sands of the beach. At heart, I guess I'm a sun lover. If only I had more time to just lie in the sun, and doze. And you wonder why I don't update my blog very often :)
Signed a death cert today... somedays you wonder why we bother? Or at least I do. Thank God for the sun.
Signed a death cert today... somedays you wonder why we bother? Or at least I do. Thank God for the sun.
Sunday, September 01, 2002
Why do they call this a blog anyhow. It always makes me think of bog. You know, the toiletey kind. Never thought I'd see the day I started blogging. But it makes sense somehow. Blog from anywhere, anytime. Even the farthest reaches of the most rustic hamlet imaginable in the UK. It changes your style, somehow. The interface I mean. For some reason I feel compelled to KISS, keep it short, stupid. I remember once upon a very long time ago my English teacher bemoaning my complete inability to use nice, simple sentences other people didnt have to struggle to read. Ah well.
