Dumped

Heartbroken. Crying. Dead. Confused. Crying. Lost. Crying. Alone. Struggling. Missing. Wishing I was dead. The pain is too much.

I’ve got a pocket full of pretty green

Actually I’ve got a purse full of fucking change that I can never spend myself rid of.

Now the point to this blog is that it never used to be that way and I think I know why. Up until last year I always seemed to have a couple of squids and a few pennies in my purse (along with an absence of notes) but ever since Gordon Brown changed the VAT rate from whatever it was to some arbitrary number he saw on the back of a scratchcard he bought to try and win TeamUKGB (or whatever we are called) out of this recession I have so much change that I can no longer fit it all in my purse. I’m sure you’re the same? Go look now – do you have unsightly bulges in your Louis Vuitton purses? Do you have excess change neatly stacked up in it’s correct piles on the fireplace? Or worse – in one of the over-sized empty (but not now! it’s full of fucking change) whisky bottles? And where the hell do they come from?

Anyway, the VAT rate change. Now we always used to buy something for, say, £9.99 and get a solitary penny to tuck back in to our purse or more realistically say, “keep the change”, as it was not even worth the effort of holding our hands out for. But now that price is, say, for example, £9.76 ( I know it’s not but it’s an example, ok?) and so we get 24p change. Which isn’t so bad right? Three coins, 20p and two 2p’s. So why the huge increase in how much we all have to lug about? Well, it’s in the words, “sorry luv, I don’t have any 20’s…or 2p’s…will pennies do you?”. You see the poor shopkeeper has to give out so much more change these days that they have the reverse problem and never have enough change. But I guess they can now get their own back by dishing out all those 1p’s we were too busy/rich for in the past but now need to suck down and grasp as the economy goes down the plughole.

It’s a funny old reversed world.

A dark day

The 30th of March 2009 was a very dark day indeed. Not for what is troubling me of late and hinted at in an earlier blog but for the fact that yesterday I took the blackest of steps and sold my soul to facebook.

A vow to myself to never become a facewhore has been broken and I feel somewhat shabby about it – BUT – already after just a few hours I can see the appeal of it – oh god! Maybe it’s similar to a crack addict after their first hit or an alcoholics first drink but I fear my life will never be the same again. The constant search for long lost friends or people I only bumped in to for milliseconds at a second rate house party has begun – and I want to find them all!

I’m sure I’ve said this before

But why can’t we live our lives lying down? All my best ideas, thoughts and coherence come while I am horizontal. Preferably lying in a darkened state too. As though the sun was constantly dimmed. And half-asleep. Or should that be half-awake? Either way, three things to improve the quality of my life, the output of my own GDP.

I want to blog

I want to blog so much about something that is happening to me right now but I won’t. I can’t.

All I can say, not that I think it will be read by the person who needs to read it, is don’t give up on me. Please. I am dying inside.

I love you.

Valentine’s Day

So another VD over but oh my what a yummy one to savour for the next year. Not even 24 hours together to share it but every second felt like it could have been as though we’d spent a  lifetime together. Hmm…now that doesn’t sound like it’s a good thing if you read it one way! It is though, it is! What I mean is that it felt so comfortable, so easy, so natural, so everything, to do what we did and even what we didn’t do. Resting in each others arms was as glorious as…well…you can guess…some of it.

The only downside was having to say goodbye this morning but even that has it’s upside as to say goodbye to the one you love means that you can say hello again all over again the very next time. Thankfully my next hello will not be as long in the waiting as this one was. Two weeks apart is not good for the soul you know. Not good at all.

So, cards and presents exchanged, champagne consumed and the flat trashed (well, not exactly but it’s not as pristine as it was!) and I thought I would be sitting here heavy of heart and morose of mood being alone but I’m not. I’m not because I have my memories already stored and my dreams of tomorrow only just beginning. I’m not because to be loved means that you can never be blue…just a little off colour perhaps now and then…but never blue. No, to be loved by and to be in love with my angel, is to be in bliss.

Big smile here.

I love my girlfriend

Plain and simple.

I tell her often but I think, sometimes, she might forget. Probably because of my personality being a little bit different from hers. Anyway, this blog was not to go in to details but just to say, obviously,

I love you

The written word falls apart in the modern age

It’s a shame but the medium that I love the most can cause the worst kind of pain.  I love words, be they singular or strung together to concoct some kind of story. But, and this is important, when those words are no longer being spoken but appearing via a text message then all hell can break loose.

I thought chat windows were bad enough but at least you had room enough to portray something of the intent and emotion behind what you were trying to tell someone. Text messages though, limited by size, are a danger to sanity. There is no way you can infer to somebody, nor they read in to what you have written, the true meaning of it all. Even those smug yellow faces don’t help.

Was it always this way? Did letters cause as much confusion? No I don’t think they did. After all, I am old enough to have written enough over the years and on occasion still do. Maybe cavemen had the same problem with their clan trying to decipher exactly what the bison with a spear sticking out of it actually meant.

So, why this blog? Because I read a series of text messages yesterday that caused my brain to read them 100% one way while the author of said messages wrote them (almost I guess) 100% in another manner altogether. The end result being my heart smashed through the floor, as I believed someone incredibly special to me was being prized away. Thankfully my smile is starting to reappear and spirits clawing their way back up after speaking words rather than reading them.

Bleak (fiction)

Standing looking out of her third floor window on to the communal car park down below she felt something wasn’t quite right.

It was black outside. Cold. But she could still make out the pools of rain slightly shifting the reflection of the moon. The refuse bags were awaiting their early morning arrival of the mechanised monsters to gorge themselves on the decadence waste of others. Something was amiss.

As her gaze slowly withdrew back through the windowpane to close the curtains she suddenly caught sight of herself reflected and realised what it was. She had nobody to turn to and tell them she loved them. Her fear of telling people she loved them meant that she would never have someone to tell them she loved them.

Mini-blog

I want to blog but I am apathetic towards it. I want to pixelate the thousands of words spiralling around inside my head but I can’t.

The best, and so the hardest times to write, are in bed. No matter whether I am trying to get to sleep, dreaming, or gently slipping back to reality, everything seems to vanish into a fuzzy haze to be irretrievable as soon as I think about what I have been thinking about . By the time I get to find a pen and paper the ideas have already passed me by.

I’m bored with this blog already. Why can’t I find the enthusiasm to write just lately?