See the thing about strangers is...

[Grant, 22 years old]

We didn't speak. We just kissed. 

He pressed his lips onto mine and froze time. 

We were in the middle of a crowd - with flashing lights and sparkling confetti, with booming music and hot bodies pressed up against each other;

And it felt as if it were just he and I. 

Christmas Eve 2016

So I'm spending Christmas Eve lying on my kitchen floor. It's 4.30pm, the sun is setting, the wind is howling. I blast classical music and stare at the ceiling. It's a perfect cliche. 

I get bored of the ceiling. I turn to my side and look out the window. I see a bright green train speeding by on its tracks. I hear seagulls. All the windows have Christmas trees in them, with sparkling fairy lights and glittering ornaments. 

***

I've just come back from a 10 day trip around Germany. After constant contact with people, the enormous shift to being alone (on Christmas no less) frightens me. Its a fear I'm not used to, since I revel in being alone. Time with myself has always been easy.  

***

My phone is buzzing with Christmas texts from my friends back home. I cant bear to open them. I feel ill. My head is spinning a little. I think I'm hungry, I just don't have the will to eat right now.  
I want to get out of my apartment and run. I want to lace up my shoes and just go. I advise myself against it though - I have a feeling I'd collapse. It's so dark, no one would find me. 

*** 

I think I've been terribly happy for 10 days. 
Terribly happy surrounded by people - Its so unusual. 
Have I changed so much? 
Is that a bad thing? 

And now? Now I think I'm scared of being alone. Afraid to spend today alone. 

It just hit me that I won't be home this year

What an intensely sad thought

Oh man. Black Friday & Cyber Monday really got me. 

What a dangerous combination of massive sales and 3am-panic-fuelled-redbull-induced-stress-shopping.

All Souls Day 2016

I cant believe its been 3 years. 

The first time I went to a cemetery was in 2013 when my grandmother passed away.

I wrote about it.

It was the first time I'd experienced loss & extreme grief. I think it affected my performance at school, but I refuse to blame her for my grades. That was my own doing.  

We go to the cemetery every year now. Now this is a tradition of my family. Even when I'm not home I make it to a cemetery to pray for her soul and the souls of the people buried there.  

My friends think it's rather morbid to go to a cemetery. It was beautiful though; Autumn hadn't fully rid the trees of their leaves. Our boots made a delicious crunching noise on the leaves as we walked along the path. The sun streamed in through the tall trees. There was a slight breeze. Cyclists rode by, staring curiously at us. We prayed the rosary (her favourite prayer) and sang in Latin (Salve Regina). 

It was - save for the tombstones - rather picturesque. 

Back in 2013, I didn't think I'd be able to take that amount of sadness. I was cutting again. I was crying everywhere. I couldn't get through the days very well. I wondered how I'd be able keep that up long term.  

Now, in 2016, I try to think about what her voice sounds like. What it felt like when she was near me. What her perfume smelt like. It still pains me to think about her in the past tense. And everytime I see her name on that headstone, my throat closes slightly and I feel this wave of grief fall over me again. 

I don't think you ever fully get over grief. I think you just make space for it in your life.

I tell her stories now. I help make her food. We wear her jewellery. 

We go on memories now.  

Secret Hitler is a game that fosters patience, a knack for observing facial cues, and a unhealthy distrust of people. 

It also mercilessly tears down friendships.  

So there's that.  

1am. 8°C. Frigid autumn winds. 

So there I was. Sitting on a kid size bicycle under the glare of the streetlight on an empty road in my neighborhood: My incredibly patient friends were teaching me to ride a bicycle. 

My childhood fear of falling clearly hadn't left me - between screams of "DON'T LET GO" and "IM FAAAALLING" its like I was 7 years old all over again. And it was amazing.

My plan not to grow up may yet succeed. 

[Unknown, early twenties]

4.05am. 12°C. 

Kissed a tall gentleman in red plaid. 

We hadn't time to exchange names, 
but just enough to exchange tongues.  

10am. 14°C

Exam's almost over. Been awake for 2 days. Jon Snow just became Lord Commander. 

Have you ever been so exhausted you couldnt sleep? Seems to be happening to me. Its that, or the 5 hour Game of Thrones marathon. 

Im going with exhaustion. 

Its been a tough month. Im glad its almost done. 

Its okay though. Nothing coffee and Kit Harrington cant cure. 

I feel like stepping in front of traffic. 
But there isn't any at 2am. 

Have you ever had the need to feel something so intensely & so deeply that you are physically hurt?   

Haven't you ever felt the need to cling on to something that destroys you. 

It latches on to you and its enchanting allurement is that the source of your pain emanates not from it, but from you.  

It consumes your senses. It gets in your blood, it quickens your pulse, it takes over your mind. Suddenly you’re submerged & the thought of clear blue water rushing into your lungs doesn't seem like the worst thing anymore. 

You can experience nothing else and sometimes you feel as though you’ll never need to anyway. 

Such an exquisite form of self-destruction don’t you think

12.30pm. 15°C

Just looked over the work I have to do in the next two weeks and I'm balancing dangerously on the border of 

'Yes you can do this! Hard work and long hours will pay off' 

and 

*Tries not to panic ... Panic anyways* 

I feel like I'm letting my parents down and this is the worst part, far beyond any bad grade.  

3 am. 14°C. 

Im so done with this weather.

Had my first exam today. Wish I could say it was great good manageable passable? Slept for about 2 hours last night and woke up covered in sweat. (Okay so it was 25°C last night and I was wrapped in a winter duvet, but still). I'm disappointed in myself - sure - but I cant let this stop me. I have 3 more papers to go. We can turn this around. 

Also, I may have an inkling as to what being tired really means. I've stayed up for 36 hours straight before, but the mental exhaustion this time is so much worse. It appears studying makes us crankier, more inefficient versions of ourselves. We need more sleep, more food and more rest just to maintain a steady pace.  

But at the same time, it feels so good being this tired because it means I'm putting in everything I have. 100%. 24/7. Okay, maybe not 24/7. I love getting into bed feeling exhausted and absolutely drained - like I've earned this rest. 

Getting up the next day and doing it all over again is a terrifying thought of course. But what you could look forward to instead is that moment late at night when you (gracefully?) flop into bed and turn off the lights knowing that you, with all your might, wit and determination, did all you could to make today count.  

Junk Folder in My Brain

I think I'm having some anxiety. My pulse has been racing all day and I cant seem to keep my breath steady. I keep having to take deep gulps of air just sitting down at my laptop.


Its exams obviously. It sounds so trivial, but even as I write now I catch my pulse racing and I have to consciously calm down.


Alot has happened in the past week - it seems like everything decided to go wrong one week before exams. I've had to make important decisions after having my choices taken away from me. I've lost some money. Some sanity too.


I actively try to stay calm, but very little is working. I read somewhere that trying not to worry about your problems actually causes you to focus more on them because your mind is on the lookout for them, ready to scream, 'STOP thinking about it!' You see? Counterproductive.


I think that's why I came here. I'll just put it out there. I've acknowledged the anxiety and the worry and the stress - a sort of spring cleaning of the junk thoughts in my brain. I'm clearing it out so I can focus on my work.


Wish me luck.

Strawberries and Daises and Sharpened Pencils

2am. 1°C. 

I’ve just finished my favourite movie for about the 152nd time, on a night when I should have been 3 hours into work instead. It seems like something I should regret, but I cant. 

Is it still a bad decision if it made you feel so good? I feel like there’s euphemism there, but I can’t be bothered – not tonight. I feel too good tonight.

Its that time of year again – crunch time.

Late nights.

Too little sleep. 

Too much coffee (Yes, there is such a thing)

I want the next month to go by in a second and yet not want it to come at all. I'm so nervous. And scared. Excited too. But mostly nervous. The past year has just whizzed by and my life has changed so much. I've changed so much. 

All I want to do now is relax. I want to go to the market and pick up baskets of strawberries. I want a vase of daises on my window sill and a bouquet of sharpened pencils on my desk. I want to causally sip coffee while reading outdoors (no one reads outdoors anymore. You notice?) I want to stroll around the park and watch the dogs playing in the lake. 

I want to slow down, but everything's speeding up. Its okay though. 

That's the way these things go. It'll get better soon - just a little while longer

After 36 hours awake, you begin to appreciate the little things. Little pleasures. Little victories. 

A hot shower.

A deep stretch.

Sunlight beaming in.

Coffee *inhales deeply*

All I could think of this morning in the shower was how good that water felt. I was 19 hours in - cold and stiff and in want of coffee. Something as simple as a hot shower instantly lifted my mood. I couldn't remember the last time I had so deeply savoured the feeling of hot beads of water beating down on my skin. I was tired and beaten down and the warmth enveloped me - held me tight and rocked me gently. I never wanted to leave.  

Its alright - a few minutes more. The real world could wait. 

It's Been Awhile

Its 2016.  

I hadn't thought about this blog in years till I was asked about it in passing. I lied - said I had deleted it. Why? I was extremely embarrassed.  The thought that my childish musings were still floating around the internet after all this time. I needed to get rid of them.  

I came here this evening with the intention of deleting this blog permanently - these cringe-worthy weekly ramblings of someone that I used to know. I didn't want to read any of it lest I recoil back in a fit of disgust. I cant tell you why I regarded my past blog posts with such a raw hatred. I guess I've always hated pictures of myself, I just assumed I'd feel the same about fragments of my past.

"Nostalgia is a dangerous form of comparison. Think about how often we compare our lives to a memory that nostalgia has so completely edited that it never really existed"

I had come back, a very different person, to discover that my (edited) memories had been wrong all this time. This blog, instead of being a source of deep regret and disdain, was in fact a clear snapshot of my life at that time. It seems a perfectly obvious trait of a diary to so explicitly preserve your memories - I dont know why I didnt realise that that was what this blog was doing.  

I liked what I read.  In fact, memories came flooding back as I poured through post after post. It was a little surreal. I have become a very different person, and this blog is proof. Thoughts about sadness and suicide no longer plague my mind. I never thought it possible at the time, but I've become happier, joyful & optimistic (My past self would deeply disapprove of this word).  

I've experienced so much since then. I've moved - I'm living abroad for a little bit.  I'm studying something I've been waiting all my life to do. I'm glad that I've kept in touch with old friends and made new ones along the way. My relationship with my family is so much better. My relationship with myself is so much better.  

I guess the blog's staying up for now.  

All Souls Day 2013

Never in my entire life, have I gone to the cemetery for All Souls Day. It used to be something other people did and I was just a spectator. It was never a tradition of my family. 

Till now. 

2013. 

You could say its been a horrible year. But then again, it started out near perfectly. All I do now is pray for it to be over. I've had enough of 2013. 

We arrived at 1.30 and the weather was beautiful - Just enough wind and not too much sun. As always, I'm shocked to see your name on that cross. It's like I don't expect to see it there. Like this is all some big mistake. It takes me awhile to comprehend the situation. 

And just as I do, my throat begins to close and my eyes sting with tears. So I busy myself with lighting candles and burning incense. We bring flowers and fresh water. We say the rosary. We talk about tombstone designs and columbariums. 

I always feel bad when we have to leave. I say, perhaps more to myself than to you, that I'll come back. That I'll remember. That I'll pray. I never did it much when you were around, so its the least I could do now. 

Eric Clapton - Little Queen of Spades (Crossroads 2007)

Mr Piano Man, my gosh, what a solo.

And Clapton. Wow. I'm running out of ways to compliment this guy.

Since I am the king, baby then you is the queen

10 Things You Probably Didn't Know About Me

1. Going for a haircut is extremely nerve wracking. 

2. Peanut butter is absolute. 

3. Music is my muse, my drug, my lifeline. 

4. Clapton is God. 

5. I always sing when I'm alone. Always. 

6. I am actually an excellent baker. 

7. My spelling is atrocious. 

8. Yes, I needed a dictionary for that. 

9. I once swore to myself that I'd learn to read and write hieroglyphics, by myself, 
    in one year. 

10. Guitar solos are sexy as fuck.