Dear Diary

I wish I could always be 18. That was the best year. It was the year of beginnings. It was the first year of studying something I’d chosen, the year I first drank beer and vodka, the year I met my best friend who I love with all my heart. The first year I skipped class, the first time I lived away from my parents and not on holiday, the first time I felt like I belonged in a place, the first time I got tipsy. First time having money, first time being broke. And I was just starting to find out slowly who I really was. When I realised that I’d never be this young and I did crazy things like cycle halfway through Paris with friends ending up watching the sunrise in front of the Eiffel Tower with no idea of how to get home, not feeling the cold. I wish I could spend my life being 18.

When I was 19 I finally understood that I had friends who I loved but, more importantly, that they loved me back. I had my highest moments surrounded by friends feeling safe and invincible. But I also had my lowest moments, because once you acknowledge that someone can love you, you can suddenly be afraid that they won’t. There was a little voice in my head that would surface telling me that I was bothering people, that they might be better off without me. As long as I had reason to believe otherwise I could ignore it however if I annoyed someone and they stormed off or if I was ignored for too long it got harder to fight that voice. It could bring me down as fast as in an afternoon. I’ve had times when I couldn’t get out of bed, barely keeping the depression at bay. I’ve spent nights crying. It’s driven me crazy some days. 19 was the year everything got a little more complicated. There was that. And there was the separation with my some of my best friends as they left for more or less time. One of them I’ve know longer, he was there when I had no-one else. We weren’t the best of friends, we were both awkward then, I think we still are in some ways, but we were friends. We’d both wanted to escape, he drew futuristic cities and I wrote stories about dragons. We both read and I liked to just sit next to him and read. But now we’re so far from each other, I don’t know how to reach him. He was my best friend once, and he’s still dear to me but I’m afraid that soon the thin string linking us together might break and I’ll lose him.

Then there was the other thing. I’ve thought a lot about the other thing and it still isn’t clear in my head. I can’t be sure of how I feel but I can take a pretty good guess. It makes everything so much more complicated. I can’t tell you about the other thing yet, because I still don’t know, I’m still confused. It’s one more thing to figure out and it’s been turning around in my head like a goldfish. It’s slowly taking shape but it can also move backwards. I have so many questions for myself. There are so many things I’ve yet to learn about myself. I’m not ready for 20 just yet. I have to figure that thing out before. At least.

 

Tina’s Story

Since I was young I’d never had many friends, and I was never good at keeping them. Every time I got to a higher part of school people would tell me “It’ll be better this time” but that was never really true. Until university. I’d moved a lot growing up (which didn’t really help when it came to friends), by the time it came to uni I was in Paris, “the land of love” as some call it, well Paris was a lot of things but I didn’t know about love. It was definitely a fun place to be though.

Since I was 16 or 17 (I couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it started) I’ve been thinking a lot about the world, about feelings, about myself. I wanted to understand how it all worked… and how I worked. I was usually really happy and optimistic, I always saw the bright side of things but I’d realised, mainly during holidays, that sometimes I’d get sad. I wouldn’t really realise it at first until I went out and saw friends and I’d think “Shit I hadn’t noticed how sad I was before”. Sometimes it was just seeing something beautiful, like the sun reflecting a certain way on some leaves and then I’d feel happy again. Being with friends made it alright, and it could go as suddenly (or even more so) as it came. After having asked myself all of these questions I now have a good idea of how my mind works.

So I went to uni. This uni was a particularly messed up one but everyone was nice, we could empathise with each other because we were all in the same hellhole. That’s where I met her. Mia was normal and strong and kind and funny. I never found her, she found me, if it’d been up to me to go up to her I would’ve probably wasted a lot of time finding the courage to talk to her. As it happens it took no time at all to build a friendship. We got close faster than I’d ever gotten close to a friend before. Her arms were comfortable and when she hugged me it felt like nothing could hurt me, externally or internally. For some reason I felt safe, or at least safer, when I was with her. I felt stronger in her presence, I don’t know if she felt the same way. I hope so but I have no idea.

For our second year we decided to live together to be closer to school. We found a 2 room apartment. It wasn’t much but it was the best we found and the furniture was already there. Mia wasn’t sure about the double bed but I shrugged, “it’s not like anything could happen” I joked with a mischievous grin. She looked at me with her intrigued puzzled look, It was cute and I liked to tell her that because she’d get embarrassed and confused and it was hilarious.

She’d been trying to kiss me for a while, it was a game and I kept avoiding it which would explain her startled reaction when I kissed her for the first time. We both understood there was nothing sexual about it. We’d already slept in the same bed and neither of us thought much of it. I never loved her that way and I’m pretty sure I can safely say the feeling was mutual.

I was thinking about all of this on the train home. It had two levels, I’d never thought much of it beforehand but the idea of a double-decker train was rather odd considering there weren’t even any double-decker buses in Paris. It made me chuckle; London was so far away. A lady walked in and started a hello-ladies-and-gentlemen-I-need-money-please speech, she had a daughter and needed money to buy her books but she wasn’t just begging she was selling bracelets for 2€. While she finished her speech I fished a 2€ coin out of my pocket. I’m not very good at choosing things so I just picked the one that stood out most.

I’d been thinking a lot lately, especially just then, I was thinking about it again. The sadness. It felt like every time it came it was a little worse and it had already been really bad. I was afraid of what worse would mean. I knew I hurt people when I was like that, even though I tried not to some part of me always wants to lash out. As a desperate call for help maybe? I’d always been bad at expressing myself and it wouldn’t come as a surprise if the way I instinctively asked for help actually pushed people away.

I was fiddling with my new bracelet, pulling it around my fingers and feeling the beads almost unconsciously. I always fidgeted when I was nervous, doing something with my hands helped to minimize the storm of thought in my head by feeling something simple: wooden beads on an elastic string.

To drown out the thoughts I liked to sit on my desk, grab some headphones and paper and just draw. No matter how bad it was, drawing could always make it better. Unfortunately I wasn’t near my desk at that time.

I got out of the train and started walking to the bus stop. How much worse could it get I wondered. Would it ever stop? Or at least stop getting worse? I looked down at my bracelet, it was Halloween coloured: orange purple orange purple… but there was one place with two purple beads side by side. It wasn’t particularly pretty but I liked the colours. I leaned my head back and stared upwards, I probably looked more than stupid, I didn’t really care. I was ignoring the hurricane of thoughts in my head and I could just about see the next stops like that.

I was going home to my desk. Mia might be there. Mia was probably the one I’d hurt the most. Maybe I should just leave, I thought, but that would’ve broken my heart. So I kept walking home. The bracelet was surprisingly comfortable, it wasn’t bitey like I thought it would be.

What would she think, I wondered, if I just left and never came back. Gone with the wind. I know her well enough to know that she wouldn’t just be fine with it. The analytical part of me pointed out how she’d been there so many times and all the things we’d shared; moments, secrets, thoughts… But maybe she wouldn’t be that bad. Maybe she’d be better off without me. Why did I tear my own heart to pieces? Orange purple orange purple orange purple purple. I liked it. “I’ll keep it” I told myself.

………………………………..somanydots……………………………………………

My friend Zampano asked for a follow up story on Passing Moments so here is Tina’s point of view🙂

I didn’t have a word limit for this one so I could write a little more ^^

 

Cage

​I was facing away from her, seemingly calm. She was in a cage. I’d put her there so she couldn’t hurt anyone. I tried to ignore her.

“She doesn’t want to know!” She screamed. “You’re always there when She needs you but suddenly when you need help She’s not there!”

She was banging her fists against the bars. “Why can’t you see?! She thinks you’re just having a not-very-happy moment and She doesn’t care!” She was yelling. “She never cares about how you feel!”

I whipped around, “You have no right to say that!” I screamed back. She took a step back. I continued more calmly, “She could be feeling bad or even depressed and here we are with our problems or She could just not have even read our message, you have no right to make such assumptions. If She feels bad her troubles come first.”

“Can’t you see?!” She was shaking, “She never pays attention to how you feel it even annoys Her sometimes when She knows you’re not OK! Can’t you see how one sided this is?!” She was desperate.

“Just let me be unimportant OK?!” I yelled back, “let me go back to being the one no-one cares about! Let me be there for Her if it can help and if She doesn’t want to know when I’m not OK then never mind! Let me be no-one, because it doesn’t hurt as much when it’s normal. Letting you out would only make things worse. I’m sorry.”

We were both shaking now. We were both crying. I suppose we were both in a cage.

“I’m sorry” I whispered to myself, “I’m sorry.”

 
• • •

I woke up and watched my phone finally connect to WiFi. I had new messages, from Her.

“This is why I put you in a cage” I whispered, “I was right.” I felt ashamed, “She’s been there for us so many times, how dare you say She doesn’t care about me?”

I turned around to look at her. She was no longer caged up, she no longer needed to be. She just looked at me. “I hate you for that” I told her. She knew better than to answer.

 

Passing Moments

She used to draw and paint and her desk had… suffered. It was Tina’s desk. She’d spent a lot of time there, it was her way of escaping when the thoughts were too much. She could stay hours, the worthy art went on the walls.

Since we started living together I learned a lot about my best friend. Thinking she was always happy I discovered that she could also be incredibly sad, and it would just happen. When she wasn’t alone it wasn’t so bad but she didn’t like to bother people. She’d downgrade herself and it was hard for her to believe anyone liked her, making it harder to call for help. There were times when I’d come home to find her curled up in bed trembling and it broke my heart. I’d hold her tight and tell her I loved her, and it was true. I loved her completely platonically but I loved her more than anything. And I knew she loved me too.

One night she took my hand and had that wild look she got sometimes, saying “Let’s escape”. Last time we’d taken a late train away from Paris, and spent the night watching the stars. Space was something that fascinated us both. This look wasn’t playful though, she was hurt. Nightly excursions weren’t new, her favourite place to go was St. Michel. Sometimes we’d go wandering the cobbled streets with the souvenirs, crêpes, musicians; this time we sat along the Seine. She looked at me hesitantly, then kissed me on the lips, which was an odd thing for her to do in this state. The wild look dissipated as she leaned into the wall. “I love you. Never forget that.” She’d said. I knew what she’d meant but I was afraid of why she was saying it. She started shaking. “What’s wrong with me?” I held her and told her it was ok, that I was there for her. “Everyone else is gone” She whispered. I told her it wasn’t her fault, I knew she knew it, but it still hurt. “No-one’ll ever love me.”

“That’s not true,” I told her “I love you, and the others still love you.” I cited the short list of names of the people who were closest to her. “And I’m sure one day you’ll find the right person and you’ll both fall in love.”

I didn’t know if it was helping. I knew she was torturing herself and she knew it was hurting me. I didn’t mind, even the best people have bad moments. “I don’t deserve you.” She’d regretted that as soon as she’d said it. I shook her and looked her in the eye, “You deserve better than me Tina, but you at least deserve me. You have to know that.” She let herself be pulled back into my arms and kept saying “I’m sorry.” She was sorry for having said that, she was sorry about how she felt, she was sorry to be such a bother. I held her until she calmed down.

The following day we argued a lot, she wanted to get help so I told her to see a psychologist, she wanted to be locked up where she could stop hurting people until she got better. I was afraid that would just make it worse and I said I’d rather she be home than there alone.

When she left I was mainly angry at myself for not having been able to do more. I missed her and it hurt to know her there, she needed to be near her friends, I was scared for her. I looked through her desk drawers wondering what I’d missed. There was a sketch of one person being held protectively against another. It wasn’t much more than shapes but there was a message:

“If you ever read this I want you to know that you’re the biggest reason I haven’t gone mad. I just wanted to say thank you. But you probably won’t see this. I just wanted you to know.”

I put it away gently, not wanting it to get wet from my tears. I didn’t know what to do. I guess I finally felt some of the sadness she’d felt. I lay on the bed for ages. Maybe I’d gotten too attached to her, but I wasn’t apologising for that.

Tina’s desk is gone now. I wasn’t in love, but I did love her and I hope she’s okay.

Je t’aime, l’oublies pas…

…………………………………………….heyimbackdidyoumissme?……………………………………………………………………………………….

Hey so it’s been a while since I’ve posted anything or even been on wordpress but seeing as I’m supposed to have a little more time now I’m doing my internship I wanted to get back into this. I messed this up so it’s late so I don’t think many people will see this… I’ll try harder next week.

When I first wrote this it had twice as many words, unfortunately I’m only allowed 750 T_T so this may seem a little short, I don’t know.

Writing is a game I suppose, the art of hiding things in plain sight… what part of that was true? What of it was me? Maybe some of you have an idea of who I am… but can you ever really know? (Is this a trick question meaning this post was completely fiction?)

Nate I was shocked to realise that although I’m an IT student I still don’t know exactly how the internet works but I will get back to you on that😉

 

I live in my head

Sometimes I want to jump off a building
To see if I could fly,
Sometimes I want to run into a wall
To see which of us breaks first,
Sometimes I want to stab myself
To see if I still bleed,
Sometimes I want to stop feeling
To make it the thinking stop.

Sometimes I want to run away
Just to see how far I’d go,
Sometimes I want to lock myself out
And throw away the key,
Explore underground tunnels
Walking on train tracks,
Walk barefoot on the streets,
Stand in a t-shirt under a storm
And scream out loud
Until it all
Stops.

Make it stop.
All the voices in my head.
They’re too loud.
They ask the same questions over and over
And I don’t have the answers.
Make them leave me alone.

The people who could push the voices away
They’re not here right now.
So I’ll put my headphones on to drown out the noise.
And as long as there’s music
I’ll be ok
As long as they leave me alone

 
But you’re never completely alone…

 

Sadly Blue

I was hurt. I couldn’t not be, I kept thinking of the way she’d stared at me terrified before running away. I hadn’t thought she would run from me. I never thought she could look so afraid of me.

I stared at the half empty bottle of vodka, blue from the smurfs that had been put in it for a small party a few days ago. I almost considered swapping it with the small Nutella pot in my hands.

“So that’s how it starts” I thought. I was always understanding new things about people, whether it be a general “people” or one person in particular. But whenever it mattered most I was left clueless about what to do and it was so frustrating.

And I had no reason to feel bad, it was just a mix of empathy and hurt. I shouldn’t have been the one that was hurt and I hated myself for feeling that way, but without speaking she had made me turn around and cry. Hurting her was the last thing I ever wanted to do, and yet it’s what I did. Without meaning it I had hurt the person who meant the most to me. And I had no right to be hurt.

The blobby smurf remains were beckoning… “Don’t you want to know how blue we taste?” They said. As for the rest… I can’t remember.

 

The Things that Happen in Caves

Part 13 of Epic Co-written Story

“Welcome, to my humble abode.”

Each word was weighed and took its own space, each buying a little more time for the elf with the sharp eyes to look around and analyse every detail he could. Lifting his goggles cautiously and assuming a discretely defensive stance, his actions contradicted his words. Angel thought that they might not be as welcome as his words suggested. This was confirmed when she saw the telltale glow of magic around his fingertips, it was almost imperceptible but before she could react to it Marissa stepped forward

“Who are you?” She demanded.

He redirected his piercing stare towards her, at the way she stood, the way she looked at him, the way she spoke and the way she was dressed. It didn’t take him long to answer.

“I’m going to call you Princess.” He declared with a spark of sarcasm, or was it playfulness? Likely a bit of both. A smile tugged at his lips when he saw Angel about to speak. He didn’t give her the chance.

“And I’ll call you Queen.” He continued in a mockingly respectful tone. “And to continue the family you,” he was now looking at Arthur, “can be Prince.”

He looked quite satisfied with himself and no-one knew how to react.

So he went on: “But you’re no king,” was directed towards the blacksmith. Then he paused before turning to the last member of the party. “And you’re an orphan.” He finished more seriously, and more respectfully than for any of the others.

Everyone was shocked, the being in front of them had just discovered things about them that he should never have been able to know just by looking at them. Or so they thought, because you can find those things if you know how to look, and having an elf’s sensibility Sasha had even more reason to know how to look.

It was Harry’s turn to step forward, “so you’ve told us who we are but we still don’t know about you.” The veteran pile of muscle was imposing even without his armour. He still had his huge axe on his shoulder and daring as Sasha was he couldn’t help but take a small step back. He quickly won back the lost territory and said simply “I’m Sasha”. It was all they needed to know.

• • •

They were in a cave, a small fire was dying in the centre. Sasha had taken them through tunnels under the mountains and they were now behind enemy lines, he’d decided to come with them at least until they were past the mountains. They were hiding in a cave, sitting around a dying fire. Sasha was outside on lookout, Marissa was staring deep into the fire, Nikke was staring through the fire at Marissa. Her childhood friend had grown into a beautiful young woman even with the frown clouding her face at the moment. She wondered what else had changed and what had stayed the same. She felt fiercely protective of her old friend who knew nothing about the outside world and very little even about life outside the castle walls. Angel came to sit near her. “You love her?”

Nikke was so taken aback by the question that she didn’t know what to say, she just stared at the woman, horrified.

“I see the way you look at her, when you think no-one can see you. You should talk to her about it, or you’ll never know if she feels the same.”

Arthur had just come back from some training with Harry. Everything hurt. He was concentrating on not moving and he was looking at the girls around the fire, it was like they were in their own world and he wasn’t invited. They intimidated him, and Angel of course but that was normal, she intimidated everyone. There was something about Nikke and Em, like a secret world they shared and the world revolved around them at times without them even knowing it. And the way the looked at him disarmed him completely, he had always been used to being ignored, eventually glanced at, told stories at most. The men at the tavern never thought twice about him, he was the guy at the bar. When Em looked at him she looked hard, watching every detail with scrutiny, trying to find out who he was. And Nikke was even worse because her curiosity didn’t stop there; when Nikke looked at him it was as if she were drawing him on a blank sheet, discovering bit by bit and he had no control over what she saw. She wanted to know about his family, his ambitions and dreams, how stupid he looked when he fought or how close she could get before he noticed her in front of him (close enough to hug as she said but then she’d have a funny look and he knew she wasn’t thinking about how easily people could hug him). She was friendly most of the time, but she was also concerned and sometimes she’d be incomprehensibly distant.

Nikke was troubled. She had no idea what she felt. She was troubled by Angel’s words, yes she loved her friend, as much as you can love a friend, but that didn’t seem to be what she was saying. She had suspected that maybe she was different, a freak of nature because boys only love girls and girls only love boys and that was the way life was. She never thought anyone could even suggest anything different, yet that’s what Angel had just done, and because of that she had to reconsider everything from the beginning. There was great turmoil in her spirit but she let none of it show. She only stared intensely into the fire until it slowly died and became glowing embers.

………………………………………………………………………………..

The plot thickens… sorry for making this harder and harder for you DragonSpark it was just too tempting, you always find something to do with the tricky situations I give you… so now I’m stepping this up a notch and I’m impatient to see what you have in store for me😉

I’m sure you’ll find me another impossible situation :p