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Commencement, shamelessly stolen from a scene in 90210, or 門出
So, here we are. We moved house, yesterday to be precise though today is technically when the keys are exchanged. A's house is much, much, much more modern than ours - I'm almost completely convinced that her lovely kitchen came airlifted straight out of an Ikea warehouse.
It is a time of new beginnings, to be perfectly trite and sappy. It feels damn weird that the house I was born and raised in, from age 0 to the present, is now not my home. It isn't sad, not really, because I spent so much of my life being sad in that house that it sort of feels like I can breathe again. I'm a firm believer that sadness stays in a place, takes up residence in the walls and smothers the air quietly in the night. I sincerely hope none of the people that move in read this. It's a lovely house, honest!
I really need to talk to people again, actual people. At the minute I'm pretty much stewing in my own depression, which is lonely and sad and angry and guilty and horrible.
So many things in my life haven't turned out the way I planned them. I realised it late last night that I'm nearly a third of the way to being 24 (counting from when I turned the age I am now, which is 22), which will be horrific and depressing. 24 was the year I'd planned to be working, paying off my student loan, in a nice rental somewhere and Tom would propose in a completely Tom way, and it would be hilarious and hark back to when he told me he wanted to marry me and I told him me too, but if you want to propose do it properly with a ring when I'm 24 and I'll consider it *wink wink*. That was, not really a plan per se, but something I would have held him to, and something he would have done for me, because I wanted it.
I miss him so much. It's really sad and pathetic, but I actually write to him. Like notes between the stories in my notebook as if he can read them. I keep wishing that he would come back, though not in a creepy zombie or scary poltergeist way. But then cremation probably puts a pretty big crimp in that idea - I know, I know, I have been watching far too much Supernatural for my own good recently (I'd say it helps me deal, but mostly it just makes me afraid of the dark again). But there's times when I feel such a deep-seated lonliness, it makes me so miserable. I obsess over things I said that I shouldn't have, things I should have done but didn't, things I'm still doing which I'm sure would make him think I'm crazy and vindictive and selfish. I feel like a horrible person and I start to wonder what on earth he saw in me. Then I find a birthday card or something he gave me or wrote in my notebooks and it makes me so damn happy and sad at the same time, because I can never have that back. I really loved him. I still do really love him. I will certainly never stop loving him. But god, I wish he was here. I wish I could see him again and talk to him.
So this is me - Adolescent Female in Despair, the museum label would read - seeing in a new era (and by seeing in, mostly I mean standing back and trying not to get hit in the face with it) and considering antidepressants. This Christmas will be less bright than the last, but at least there will be Christmas! I'm starting to sound drunk. I'm not, I promise! Just tired.
I would toast, but my mug is downstairs and tea is an odd toast drink. I swear that when I die, all they'll find in my veins is tea, I drink so much of the damn stuff. That would be pretty horrible though lol so let's hope not, for the poor mortician's sake.
My cat hates me. My dad and I pretty much had to forcibly wrestle her into the box she was delivered to us in when she was a kitten, which is now quite small for her, and then we uprooted her from the only home she (and I) have ever known and moved her to the county next door. So she hates me, not in a glarey sort of way, oh no she's much too cruel for that! At the minute she's esconced in the kitchen - she trod on some broken glass and has a poorly foot, so until we can get her to the vet tomorrow she's staying off her feet. Whenever I go in there, she looks up at me and blinks contentedly like we're all friends, but as soon as I get near enough for snuggles she does a really annoying slow recoil, whereby she slowly inches away while trying to make it look all innocent like she only got up for a stretch, the tease!
*le sigh*
melancholyIt is a time of new beginnings, to be perfectly trite and sappy. It feels damn weird that the house I was born and raised in, from age 0 to the present, is now not my home. It isn't sad, not really, because I spent so much of my life being sad in that house that it sort of feels like I can breathe again. I'm a firm believer that sadness stays in a place, takes up residence in the walls and smothers the air quietly in the night. I sincerely hope none of the people that move in read this. It's a lovely house, honest!
I really need to talk to people again, actual people. At the minute I'm pretty much stewing in my own depression, which is lonely and sad and angry and guilty and horrible.
So many things in my life haven't turned out the way I planned them. I realised it late last night that I'm nearly a third of the way to being 24 (counting from when I turned the age I am now, which is 22), which will be horrific and depressing. 24 was the year I'd planned to be working, paying off my student loan, in a nice rental somewhere and Tom would propose in a completely Tom way, and it would be hilarious and hark back to when he told me he wanted to marry me and I told him me too, but if you want to propose do it properly with a ring when I'm 24 and I'll consider it *wink wink*. That was, not really a plan per se, but something I would have held him to, and something he would have done for me, because I wanted it.
I miss him so much. It's really sad and pathetic, but I actually write to him. Like notes between the stories in my notebook as if he can read them. I keep wishing that he would come back, though not in a creepy zombie or scary poltergeist way. But then cremation probably puts a pretty big crimp in that idea - I know, I know, I have been watching far too much Supernatural for my own good recently (I'd say it helps me deal, but mostly it just makes me afraid of the dark again). But there's times when I feel such a deep-seated lonliness, it makes me so miserable. I obsess over things I said that I shouldn't have, things I should have done but didn't, things I'm still doing which I'm sure would make him think I'm crazy and vindictive and selfish. I feel like a horrible person and I start to wonder what on earth he saw in me. Then I find a birthday card or something he gave me or wrote in my notebooks and it makes me so damn happy and sad at the same time, because I can never have that back. I really loved him. I still do really love him. I will certainly never stop loving him. But god, I wish he was here. I wish I could see him again and talk to him.
So this is me - Adolescent Female in Despair, the museum label would read - seeing in a new era (and by seeing in, mostly I mean standing back and trying not to get hit in the face with it) and considering antidepressants. This Christmas will be less bright than the last, but at least there will be Christmas! I'm starting to sound drunk. I'm not, I promise! Just tired.
I would toast, but my mug is downstairs and tea is an odd toast drink. I swear that when I die, all they'll find in my veins is tea, I drink so much of the damn stuff. That would be pretty horrible though lol so let's hope not, for the poor mortician's sake.
My cat hates me. My dad and I pretty much had to forcibly wrestle her into the box she was delivered to us in when she was a kitten, which is now quite small for her, and then we uprooted her from the only home she (and I) have ever known and moved her to the county next door. So she hates me, not in a glarey sort of way, oh no she's much too cruel for that! At the minute she's esconced in the kitchen - she trod on some broken glass and has a poorly foot, so until we can get her to the vet tomorrow she's staying off her feet. Whenever I go in there, she looks up at me and blinks contentedly like we're all friends, but as soon as I get near enough for snuggles she does a really annoying slow recoil, whereby she slowly inches away while trying to make it look all innocent like she only got up for a stretch, the tease!
*le sigh*
sore
jubilant
full
contemplative
silly
grumpy
tired
anxious