i went to the hospital last night. i'm ok.
why don't they say that on the box? they make it sound like if you take another 2 before 4 hrs have passed you'll be in critical danger. but 8 in 20 minutes. surely that should have been enough.
the CRISIS doctor came to speak to me. i wanted to really talk to him and tell him everything about how i've been feeling, not just for the past month but for the past year or so. wanted to tell him about my dreams and haulucinations and fears and worries.
i couldn't though. somehow. i couldn't. i just sat there. nodded my head. shook it a couple of times. and apparantely that was enough.
Wednesday 15 December 2004
Tuesday 14 December 2004
gulp
yet again, so much has happened since last thursday. it seems tedious to go over absolutely everything that happened, it would take so long.
in summary, i realised that i was being taken for a fool.
who knows if it really has anything to do with his nervous breakdown, or if the crash on friday left him with mild concussion. does it really matter? he's still done the things? he's still lied and cheated and deceived me. it makes me feel sick.
he says i'm wrong, but how else was i meant to interpret it? no, i think i'm right, anthony. try to prove me wrong though, because i've never felt so strong an emotion for you as i do right now. even if it's not love. it's something. and it won't go away.
in summary, i realised that i was being taken for a fool.
who knows if it really has anything to do with his nervous breakdown, or if the crash on friday left him with mild concussion. does it really matter? he's still done the things? he's still lied and cheated and deceived me. it makes me feel sick.
he says i'm wrong, but how else was i meant to interpret it? no, i think i'm right, anthony. try to prove me wrong though, because i've never felt so strong an emotion for you as i do right now. even if it's not love. it's something. and it won't go away.
Friday 10 December 2004
love will tear us apart
i did my best not to text him yesterday - just the odd 'how r u?' or 'feeling any better?'
and i tried not to phone either. but what's a phone call asking what he's up to? just asking how he is, what he's doing, if he's ok. but apparantely that's part of the crime i've committed too. that and 'not being enough'.
the argument started when i asked him what i should do tonight.
what i said was: you're confusing me. i don't know where i stand. do i stay in washington tomorrow cos of the slightest chance i might get to see you? or do i go and have a laugh with my mates in durham? i want to see you but it's just going to make me feel worse if i wait to see you in concord and you don't come. you're the one who said i'm only young and i need to enjoy myself so what do i do? i don't want to spend tomorrow night in tears, wishing i was with you.
he didn't understand though, at least he didn't want to understand. i understand that he's in a weird place right now but i don't think he realises what it's doing to me. he's suffering? so am i.
and all this shit about needing space. he doesn't need space from anyone else but me. no no. he's quite happy to spend his mornings afternoons evenings and nights in a pub with all his friends. and when i text him i'm 'forcing him to think'.
what does he expect me to do while he's sorting his life out? (and everyone knows the pub's a brilliant place to do that isn't it?) he says he want a break from me. what does he expect me to do? he doesn't want me going out with my friends, he's specifically said he doesn't want me seeing beau (who has a new girlfriend now) and i'm not allowed to see him or talk to him either.
i haven't done anything else for the past year.
for the last week i've got up early, forced myself to go to school, got home and either slept or sat up straight on my black sofa looking at myself in the mirror, thinking.
another downward spiral looms. and i can't take that just now. there's too much in my life to think about, to worry about, to fret over and analyse.
i'm sat here at school writing this and somehow i can't believe i'm here and this is real. i feel so blurry and tired and empty and dead.
i don't believe that any of this real. it feels so impossible.
anyway.
on the phone, after our argument i told him that i can't take much more of this. i can't take being nothing to my boyfriend. he said that wasn't true and he asked him how the hell it wasn't true if hemeant everything he's said to me recently.
and then there was that infamous silence that seems to follow any significant queation i ask anyone.
i wept. still no answer. then i swore and screamed and shouted. another short silence and then he said i need to stop thinking about myself.
i told him we could leave it at that then, and hung up.
no word from either party since.
and i tried not to phone either. but what's a phone call asking what he's up to? just asking how he is, what he's doing, if he's ok. but apparantely that's part of the crime i've committed too. that and 'not being enough'.
the argument started when i asked him what i should do tonight.
what i said was: you're confusing me. i don't know where i stand. do i stay in washington tomorrow cos of the slightest chance i might get to see you? or do i go and have a laugh with my mates in durham? i want to see you but it's just going to make me feel worse if i wait to see you in concord and you don't come. you're the one who said i'm only young and i need to enjoy myself so what do i do? i don't want to spend tomorrow night in tears, wishing i was with you.
he didn't understand though, at least he didn't want to understand. i understand that he's in a weird place right now but i don't think he realises what it's doing to me. he's suffering? so am i.
and all this shit about needing space. he doesn't need space from anyone else but me. no no. he's quite happy to spend his mornings afternoons evenings and nights in a pub with all his friends. and when i text him i'm 'forcing him to think'.
what does he expect me to do while he's sorting his life out? (and everyone knows the pub's a brilliant place to do that isn't it?) he says he want a break from me. what does he expect me to do? he doesn't want me going out with my friends, he's specifically said he doesn't want me seeing beau (who has a new girlfriend now) and i'm not allowed to see him or talk to him either.
i haven't done anything else for the past year.
for the last week i've got up early, forced myself to go to school, got home and either slept or sat up straight on my black sofa looking at myself in the mirror, thinking.
another downward spiral looms. and i can't take that just now. there's too much in my life to think about, to worry about, to fret over and analyse.
i'm sat here at school writing this and somehow i can't believe i'm here and this is real. i feel so blurry and tired and empty and dead.
i don't believe that any of this real. it feels so impossible.
anyway.
on the phone, after our argument i told him that i can't take much more of this. i can't take being nothing to my boyfriend. he said that wasn't true and he asked him how the hell it wasn't true if hemeant everything he's said to me recently.
and then there was that infamous silence that seems to follow any significant queation i ask anyone.
i wept. still no answer. then i swore and screamed and shouted. another short silence and then he said i need to stop thinking about myself.
i told him we could leave it at that then, and hung up.
no word from either party since.
Thursday 9 December 2004
sand and water
i was with him for about an hour or so last night. he's so different. it felt so queer sitting next to him in the car he'd borrowed from someone.
we went to his mam's house and i sat and watched him from the other side of the room. he has these nervous ticks and twitches now. he looked like an old man. scared. lonely. cold. tired. and bitter.
the whole scene just seemed sad and grey and worthy of tears. but i sip my coffee and smile at his mother and thank her for the big mug in my hands. his eyes don't leave the tv screen. like a vegetable. mouth open. gourmless expression.
i was deflating rapidly, my chest caving in like my bones were made of sand. sand and water mixing inside me, turning my insides into cement.
still a smile on my face.
the lights on her pitiful christmas tree flicker and then all go out. all three of us turn our heads and look. no one says anything. then we turn back to the tv screen.
i felt like i was dying. more sand, more water, more cement, hardening into concrete.
i put my mug down. i ask for a cigarette. i smoke it all without flicking it once.
and all this time my insides are screaming in agony. the cement is setting, almost sold concrete now. i can already feel cracks forming.
and then he drives me home in the car with doors that don't close and no windscreen wipers. we get to my house and he leans towards me. slow motion sets in and i think, "ok, so this is the kiss. maybe this is what we need."
and he kisses me on my forehead.
and the cracks grow and grow, and i shatter into tiny little pieces in the front passenger seat. he doesn't notice though, so i get out and tie the door closed. step into my house and turn to wave goodbye.
he's already gone though.
we went to his mam's house and i sat and watched him from the other side of the room. he has these nervous ticks and twitches now. he looked like an old man. scared. lonely. cold. tired. and bitter.
the whole scene just seemed sad and grey and worthy of tears. but i sip my coffee and smile at his mother and thank her for the big mug in my hands. his eyes don't leave the tv screen. like a vegetable. mouth open. gourmless expression.
i was deflating rapidly, my chest caving in like my bones were made of sand. sand and water mixing inside me, turning my insides into cement.
still a smile on my face.
the lights on her pitiful christmas tree flicker and then all go out. all three of us turn our heads and look. no one says anything. then we turn back to the tv screen.
i felt like i was dying. more sand, more water, more cement, hardening into concrete.
i put my mug down. i ask for a cigarette. i smoke it all without flicking it once.
and all this time my insides are screaming in agony. the cement is setting, almost sold concrete now. i can already feel cracks forming.
and then he drives me home in the car with doors that don't close and no windscreen wipers. we get to my house and he leans towards me. slow motion sets in and i think, "ok, so this is the kiss. maybe this is what we need."
and he kisses me on my forehead.
and the cracks grow and grow, and i shatter into tiny little pieces in the front passenger seat. he doesn't notice though, so i get out and tie the door closed. step into my house and turn to wave goodbye.
he's already gone though.
Wednesday 8 December 2004
right to be wrong
things managed to get worse. he ended it. finally. for good.
and i'm devastated.
a year down the drain. so many memories and good times and first time experiences with him.
what have i done though? why is it just me he's punishing? none of his friends are sitting with stomach pains and tears in their eyes, worrying about him. i am. is that the crime i've committed?i can't go through this again. i was here last year and it took a knight in shining armour on a white horse to rescue me. and now even he's left me. and it's christmas soon
and i'm devastated.
a year down the drain. so many memories and good times and first time experiences with him.
what have i done though? why is it just me he's punishing? none of his friends are sitting with stomach pains and tears in their eyes, worrying about him. i am. is that the crime i've committed?i can't go through this again. i was here last year and it took a knight in shining armour on a white horse to rescue me. and now even he's left me. and it's christmas soon
Tuesday 7 December 2004
something
yet again, so much has happened since last thursday. it seems tedious to go over absolutely everything that happened, it would take so long.
in summary, i realised that i was being taken for a fool.
who knows if it really has anything to do with his nervous breakdown, or if the crash on friday left him with mild concussion. does it really matter? he's still done the things? he's still lied and cheated and deceived me. it makes me feel sick.
he says i'm wrong, but how else was i meant to interpret it? no, i think i'm right, anthony. try to prove me wrong though, because i've never felt so strong an emotion for you as i do right now. even if it's not love. it's something. and it won't go away.
in summary, i realised that i was being taken for a fool.
who knows if it really has anything to do with his nervous breakdown, or if the crash on friday left him with mild concussion. does it really matter? he's still done the things? he's still lied and cheated and deceived me. it makes me feel sick.
he says i'm wrong, but how else was i meant to interpret it? no, i think i'm right, anthony. try to prove me wrong though, because i've never felt so strong an emotion for you as i do right now. even if it's not love. it's something. and it won't go away.
Thursday 2 December 2004
the oasis
anthony's home for good tonight. his transfer has gone through and he'll be in newcastle by either tonight or tomorrow morning. it took a nervous breakdown to get him there though.
there has been word from adam, but no word back to him. i think my cheating days are over. it never used to bother me, but now the guilt is too much too handle. i guess i am human after all.
it felt so strange to see anthony so vulnerable over the last few days. i didn't know how to comfort him; couldn't make myself watch him cry.
on sunday we went to watch the match with his uncle in a pub called the oasis in the galleries. after a few hours and a few cans on anthonys behalf, and a few cokes on mine, somehow, for some reason, he ended up going mental.
i walked away from him in the pub. said i was going home. he followed me. the galleries was empty. he flew off the handle, went nuts, started throwing me against shops windows and metal shutters, clenched his hands around my neck, threw me on the floor, kicked me in the stomach while i lay there in tears.
then the security guards came.
we left.
he followed me home. i felt numb, didn't hear him screaming at me, ignored him when he grabbed me.
after a while we were sitting in my room, he was in tears, sobbing on my blue sofa, i was on my black sofa, sitting straight and expressionless. he made the decision to leave the army then. he should have caught his train half an hour before this.
he went back to his base yesterday morning to get his car and his things. then he's back forever.
great, right?
there has been word from adam, but no word back to him. i think my cheating days are over. it never used to bother me, but now the guilt is too much too handle. i guess i am human after all.
it felt so strange to see anthony so vulnerable over the last few days. i didn't know how to comfort him; couldn't make myself watch him cry.
on sunday we went to watch the match with his uncle in a pub called the oasis in the galleries. after a few hours and a few cans on anthonys behalf, and a few cokes on mine, somehow, for some reason, he ended up going mental.
i walked away from him in the pub. said i was going home. he followed me. the galleries was empty. he flew off the handle, went nuts, started throwing me against shops windows and metal shutters, clenched his hands around my neck, threw me on the floor, kicked me in the stomach while i lay there in tears.
then the security guards came.
we left.
he followed me home. i felt numb, didn't hear him screaming at me, ignored him when he grabbed me.
after a while we were sitting in my room, he was in tears, sobbing on my blue sofa, i was on my black sofa, sitting straight and expressionless. he made the decision to leave the army then. he should have caught his train half an hour before this.
he went back to his base yesterday morning to get his car and his things. then he's back forever.
great, right?
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