Fragments

  I had missed smoking. I had missed it so fucking much. I just did. So when I had the opportunity to smoke once again, I took it and chain-smoked about six cigarets one after the other. The ridiculous thing is that I've never actually smoked, just a cigaret here and there, in between months. Yet every day my fingers ache for it and I bring them to my face as if they're holding an invisible cigar. And I don't even like the stuff. I kept drinking vodka and wine to wash off the taste.

  And it felt... good in a peculiar way. As if my worries were being burned away. Turned into ashes and smoke. As if I were, or at least the parts of me that I prefer to ignore, were turned into ashes. But when I left and afterwards returned to the empty apartment I realised that our faults, like our memories and everything that makes us up, may be momentarily burned, but the stale smell that covers everything afterwards and hangs in the inside of your nostrils, in your lungs, is evidence of what has exactly happened.
  And only you can change something you don't like.

  I pressed my back against the wall and locked the door and then went to my bedroom and collapsed on the bed. I didn't wake up until my phone rung the following morning. I slept in the arms of an invisible lover - I really do wish there was someone. I'm not interested in anyone at the moment and though I'm content, I'm also lonely. I wish I had someone to keep warm with under the covers.

I'll try to never smoke again.

Fragments #9

It's been a long time, I know. In my head I kept writing posts and notes and in real life I kept on post-poning writing them. I talked with Ellie before I left for New York one quiet September night, while we were sitting on a bench somewhere in the city.
  I was as calm and careful as I could.
  As diplomatic as I could.
  And she listened.
  And said she was sorry.
  And it still feels as if she's too far away.
  I know why she is like this, so judgemental, shallow even. I know how she has been raised, how she has been treated, demeaned, all her life. By her own parents. Her own family. I can see where she's coming from. I understand. That's why I don't blame her as much. That's why I excuse things that piss me off.
  Like her telling me to try and get out of the uni that I just got in, inspite of the fact that I like it, because "I have no talent for it." I have not even tried it! It has always been like that with things I wanted to try out. She always says "You don't have the talent for it." But I have not tried seriously.
  And even if I don't have a particular talent in something, damn it, my best friend should not be the unsupportive one.
  So we speak. We talk. It feels as if a connection has been lost.

  New York was... It was different. Comforting. Even though I was a stranger, I felt at home in its bustling streets. I felt content with the anonymity, with the ability to just sit down and observe the people around you. I felt surounded by people, and their stories, and their lights, and the stories of their lights. I felt like I could make anything happen. I felt I had opportunities and if I didn't, I could make some.
  I liked the feeling of the city. I could probably live there.
  The anonymity. The opportunity to begin from a blank slate.
  That's what I would like.

Theory #24

  You may things have not changed, caught up as you are in your hectic life, but they are shifting around you. 
  Until, suddenly, you stop and realise nothing's the way you remembered.

  I'm not sure where to begin. Or what to say for that matter. I'm not sure what has changed or when, all I know is that nothing feels the same and yet they seem that way.
  Things with Ellie... they feel tight somehow, wrong. I'm being the coward, not facing the problem, not saying a word. I should say something. Before I leave for New York. Then maybe she'll have time to think things over while I'm gone. Or I will. i'm not quite sure which one of us is the one who has to do the thinking. Maybe we're just drifting apart, the way people sometimes do. Perhaps it's only natural and unstoppable but I'm not sure I'm fond of the idea that we're no the ones shaping our future.
  It feels too much as an excuse and too much as a reason to give up.

   As for Tony... I guess distance finally played its part. I had some exams and we couldn't talk for a week because I slept early during that time, and then we chatted a bit last Monday before one of his classes. And after that... silence. I'm not sure whether it's because he wants to see whether I'll message him or because he's otherwise occupied or I am or both of us. Or maybe it's just the damn distance.
  I don't miss him that much, at least not in that over played, over dramatised way that is shown in the movie. The absence of our talks hits me subtly, when I'm alone, when the hubbub of my friends has died away, when I feel the need to shut out all the light and just let good music play, when I feel like swaying to its rhythm. His memory comes at the most quiet moments.
  In the silence.




@Bathwater: Leave your email in the comments below because when I go to your blog it opens up Outlook and I don't know how to use it (I did not forget you even if it seemed that way).

10 things I hate about you

  At some point I need to learn to follow my own advice. Just saying.
  August has been lazy and rather fruitless.
  Tony has kept in touch. And I'm frustrated, not at him but at me. Because part of me can see where this is all going. And it feels as if I'm heading there nonetheless.
  I hate that he tells me he loves Christmas because it's full of lights and happiness and it's the time for falling in love. Yes, thank you I know that.
  I hate how he calls me his dance partner, the way he tells me that of course we synchronise, we dance together.
  I hate how private it felt when he found my big glasses funny - "I didn't say they don't suit you, they're just a bit big". It didn't even feel insulting. It was like we were old friends.
  I hate how everytime we talk on skype we end up talking for over an hour joking and speaking about our lives and routines and Christmas and New York.
  I hate the way I feel when he asks me to visit him.
  I hate that once he logged on Skype right after class and then we chatted for an hour.
  I hate the loneliness I sometimes feel when we don't talk.
  I hate feeling guilty for fantasing I'm with someone else.
  I hate hating the messages we send because I'd rather we talk on skype. Text seems so unemotional, I'd rather hear his voice.
  I hate that I hate all those things in the first place.

I think I make things tough inside my head...

  For the record,
Tony did call
one day
before I left for vacation.

"You're still asleep?"
I stayed up late watching a movie.
"Cool. You free tomorrow?" Hearing those words made me swear iOn tnwardly.
I had been waiting
for two weeks.
I'm leaving for vacation tomorrow. 
In the morning.
"Fuck.
You free today?
I could
try to cancel some stuff."

We both tried but didn't make it. He left the country for the US on my birthday. He said he'd message me once he got online.

I was on the vacation along with Ellie, Mollie and Mishka. We found this cool bar that played rock and rock'n'roll music. There was thic sute waiter there with whom I danced once (wow, I was one of the few he danced with - all. week. long. that is). He had the whole rock'n'roll thing going on and he was a good dancer. Ellie got really antagonistic with me over him and it really fucking pissed me off because the way she did it was very aggressive and possesive. I mean, we all four drooled over him - it was inevitable - but her manner annoyed me, she sometimes acted like a 15-year-old.
  And now I feel like a bitch for thinking of that. I mean, I only danced once with the guy and we only spoke again when I asked him to put a particular song on and when he asked whether he could take away some empty plates and I re-ordered those beers that hadn't come. (It took ages to communicate with him, and he kept looking in my eyes it was unnerving. And he wanted to learn from who we had ordered them before. Ok. Took him ages to bring them - only when another waiter went to get them - and then he sort of slammed them on the table). (I think he regarded us as some sort of groupies).
  (Mollie fucked one of his friends. why am I even writing that?)
  But what annoyed me the most was the fact that Ellie kept on mentioning Tony whenever I mentioned the waiter. Once she even told me "You don't like this guy, you're in love with Tony."
  Fuck it, I'm not in love with Tony. I didn't have the chance to be. If we had had a little bit of more time, if we had managed to go out, if something actually had happened, then yes, I would have been. Falling, really, completely and utterly falling was so easy with him. But our timing was too bad, even if he wants to keep in touch.
  I don't think I can emotionally get invested in someone who lives half-accross the world, someone who I don't know what he does, what he thinks, someone I don't really know that well. I can't fall for someone who isn' here.
  I can't wait for someone when I don't know who and why I'm waiting, or even whether I should be waiting.

And Ellie sometimes makes me feel as if she's jealous of me, as if she wants to bring me down. But I know I'm only being paranoid.



  And Tony messaged me yesterday. We've messaged via Facebook the last couple of days (or is it nights?). And we've mostly chit-chatted,
a voice inside my head going
what
  are you doing
this
  is not even actual communication
just
  mindless talking between strangers
why
   are you even bothering?
why
  is he even?

Theory #23: When something goes well, expect something else to go wrong.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that when one area of your life starts going well another falls spectacularly to pieces, said Bridget Jones.
  She forgot to mention that the opposite rarely applies.

  I begun the preparation for the University of Fine Arts, I got over L and now I sort of fancy Tony. Remember Tony? My tango partner? Yeah well, the thing is that when I talk about him I blush immensely and that when we had a two-hour-long rehearsal we rehearsed for half an hour and we talked the rest. He makes me laugh and when we dance together I relax. When he looks into my eyes he makes me smile immediatelly.
  That's... not good exactly, in the sense that I just got over someone whom I liked for the past three years, I'm not sure that falling for someone else is the safest thing to do. Especially if that someone is leaving the country by the end of the month and won't be back for a few months.
  Even if he said he'd call me this week to go out, even if he's made that dreamy smile of those in love return to my lips, it's not good. What? Oh, ok, yes I'm sorry, I'll stop complaining about something that feels so good and lifts my spirits.
  I missed it though. I missed the excitement of liking someone, the excitement of talking to that person so easily. I've missed going to bed with no tears in my eyes, no heavy heart, no painful thoughts. I've missed that beat that your heart skips at the prospect of a message, the anxious checking of the phone, the secret smiles, the possibility of something happening. Something new, with someone new, with no past history and bitterness following at your heels. I've missed private jokes that you make without thinking God, these only matter to me for sure. 
  I miss this feeling of falling  in love instead of being in a bruised love. 

 
  And then  I learn about Sonia and Annie. You have to understand that I have circles of close friends. My close friends from one circle are not necesserily friends with the other circle. So Annie, Sonia and I are on circle of close friends. Annie has been in love with this guy for three years now (what is it with number three?). Mad, passionate love, the kind of love you read in Neruda's poems, the all-consuming type.
  And Sonia has been talking the entire time with that guy, texting about this and that, with him saying that he likes her and her agreeing to go out with him. All behind Annie's back. A friend of Annie's checked their messages along with Annie (not ethical I know) and they were even... they made fun of Annie.
  How do you do that? How do you laugh at someone's agony when you know it firsthand, when you're one of their closest friends, when you're someone who's trusted? How can you give the kiss of Judas?
  Betrayal is a bitter drink. And suddenly everything within the gang (there are others in this circle but the three of us were the closest) is in pieces and I'm trying to keep Annie together and I can't for the life of me understand how I did not see that coming.

I'm just trying to keep everything together, my head's in pieces, my heart is too and suddenly the drawing I have to do for the school is not the art I want to make.

Fragments #8

  The shoes pinch my toes. I have to lean against the wall to stand. The theater is a summer one and when looking up you can see the sky. I press myself against the wall and look up at the starry sky as I hear the other actors say their lines and the applause. And then it is my turn to go on the stage. I do the converasation as I am supposed to do. Then, infuriated (as the character of the role I played becomes), I raise my voice high, high enough that nothing moves in the theater, no sound is heard. I shout a cry for union, a cry of despair. At that moment, I am not me, I have become one with the role I played, small as it may have been.
  When I get backstage people tell "Now this was some serious voice. Some serious balls."
  But my knees trembled all the while.

  Later, around 3a.m. we get a cab, S, L and I. Some of the others decided to go back on foot. The driver asks the boys how come we got a taxi and L said "We had the safety of the girl to  mind. We couldn't let her go back home alone."
  It was appreciated.

  I'm looking for some sort of the familiar fluttering in my stomach but there's only an echo of it.

  I hope L remembers to bring me back my keys.

P.S. To Bathwater: Thank you for your comments. I had no way to contact you so I say so here.