I'm Fine.

I'm trying. I'm trying really hard.

Empty?

I feel a little bit empty at the moment.


The girls are being so understanding, and they're great, they really are, but I know my grace period is almost up and they don't want to hear it anymore. They won't say that but I know they think it.


I met him and we went for a drink. At first it was superficial, small talk almost. Eventually it came around and I ended up having a great time - it was almost like before - and that was great you know because I missed him so much and it was really great to spend time with him again.


But it was hard too. Really hard. I had to catch myself so many times and stop myself thinking thoughts I shouldn't, remind myself that it will never be what I had hoped and that even if he did suddenly turn around and say that he'd made a mistake and could we try that I'd never be fully happy because I can't trust him anymore and I'd never be certain of him.


I wonder, no, I think that he never realised either how much he's affected me, and that he never had half of the feeling for me that I have for him. I say have because I still have it. One of the girls asked me if I loved him, and I was reluctant to answer and deflected at the time because, having never been in love ever, and given that my feelings were in no way returned I did not want to discuss it but I know that I did, that I do love him. And it hurts.


The realisation that he does not, has never returned a quarter of these feelings kills. Now being with him, when I can't, will never be with him hurts like hell. I really don't know what's worse: not being around him and missing him terribley, or being with him and knowing that I will never be with him. At the moment it definitely feels like that latter.


I'd always been so idealistic about love, and dreamt about love. How very irritating that my first forray into the 'great, magnificent, stars-in-your-eyes' world of love should be such a painful one. But then, all great heroines' first experience of love is an unhappy one. Maybe I'm destined to be one of those great heroines. Maybe my story is a little bit more complex and painful than others, but ultimately more interesting and perhaps fulfilling...?

This chain of mine...

I did ask, and I did get answers.
I'm glad I asked because I did get some resolution from it. Or at least on the day, I felt resolution. Now I feel, I'm not sure I can describe it accurately enough...It's like when you have a favourite necklace that you wear. You wear every day, never taking it off, not at night or even when you shower. You're in the habit of playing with this necklace, absent-mindedly most of the time. You play with it when you're thinking, when you're worried, when you're listening to your best friend pour their heart out or even when you're just bored.
Then one day, the necklace is inexplicably gone. You search everywhere for it, your bed, your room, the sitting room, the bathroom, the shower, even turning your jumpers inside out and shaking them. Try how you might, you just can't figure out how it's gone missing. You become angry with yourself for not taking better care of it. You retrace your steps time and time again trying to figure out what happened, where it went wrong. You refuse to give up looking for it for quite some time, sure that you'll find the answer somehow.
Then, one day you finally accept that the necklace is gone forever. You decide that the time for looking for it has passed and you stop being quite so angry. And for a while, you feel better. You even have moments where you completely forget about it.
But then the real missing starts. It's not all encompassing like it was at first. But it is ever present. Every time you go to play with it, you miss it. Without even thinking, you're hand reaches for the spot it used to rest but to no avail, it's gone. Every time that happens, you feel a pang. Every time your hand fails to grasp the little chain you wonder where it went, what happened to it and you miss it.
That's what I feel now. I miss him. I don't even know if I do believe what he told me that in Tribes. I did at the time, and I was sure that we could be friends again eventually, but now I'm not so sure. I miss him with all my heart. The other night I was on the brink of texting him a usual jokey text message.I couldn't do it. Whatever it was, I couldn't bring myself to write, let alone send it. It was like when words catch in your throat. Even though I knew it would be a great ice-beaker of sorts and set things on the road to the way they used to be, I couldn't do it. I just couldn't. Tonight, I missed home again. I went to see a play, and as it wasn't the most stimulating play I've ever seen, I spent most of it wondering if it was him up in the box, just a few feet above my head. I looked up at the op box every so often. I fiddled with my watch wondering if he knew I was there. When I walked out, it crossed my mind should I hang back a few minutes to see if he'd appear. I didn't, my good sense prevailed. But still I missed him, no, yearned for him terribly. For the past few days, every day I go to touch my necklace, but it's not there and I miss it.
I'm even afraid of seeing him now because I spend so much of my time close to tears just thinking about him...if I were to see him in a social setting, being his usual friendly, flirty self with everyone around, it would hurt, and I don't want to be hurt by him anymore. I want to be friends with him again, because I miss him, but I'm afraid of being hurt by him even more. I don't want to be hurt anymore. I want to stop hurting, I want to stop missing him. I want to forget I ever had a stupid necklace.

To ask, or not to ask?

There are many questions I have now that I need answers to. The biggest being should I ask them at all. Such a whirlwind as happened tonight, such a meleé of emotion that I'm surprised I can still stand. But then, I'm not so affected as that.
I heard the words with my own ears and still I'm failing to understand. Maybe I should stop trying to understand. I feel very angry, and vengeful; I want to enact revenge of some sort yet I can't. This is not clear cut, this is muggy and dirty and so mixed up that I feel unable to act either way.
I am so hurt by this. For the first time I am not the one to blame, I wasn't seeing things that weren't there, or only seeing the things I wanted to see - I saw what was there; what was real. Yet I am the one who has to pay. I'm the one who has to feel foolish, and humiliated and stupid. I do know that this is not the end of my world. I do know that there are a million people out there worse off than I am, a million times worse even. I do know that I will get past this, I'm made too strong to be beaten down for too long and there is some relief in finally knowing where I stand.
But that doesn't stop me feeling hurt and angry. I am blameless in this, I did nothing but be charmed and swept away as anyone would have. But I feel mortified.
I feel like saying nasty things, I feel blatantly showing the whole world what a horrible was done to me. But we were friends ere anything else and that stops me. Still, after all that has happened I could not do that.
He fucked up. He royally fucked up and I know he knows that but I want him to know it more. How could he ever expect things to go back the way they were? The thoughts of even seeing him right now turn my stomach. I feel betrayed.
Because of his actions, not only have I lost someone I thought I could be with, but I've lost a friend as well. I don't understand why.
This is a new hurt to me. And the truth of the matter? He didn't deserve to break my heart, he's not worthy of it. Nor does he deserve my tears, fall though they might. I'm worth more than that, I deserve more than that.
I hope he realises what he's lost. I don't think I will see him 'on the other side'. I'm not sure I'll ever allow him to have me again, as a friend or even less.
So do I ask him why?

I don't know.

The meaning of...you call this life?

I'm back home at last. I thought I'd never get here. But now I'm here I have to wait ages till I get back to Cork. Well, ten days anyway. So much has happened in the meantime I don't know where to even start. I'm so confused and mixed up over many things, it's all a big jumble of stuff just bursting to get out but I'm trying my hardest to keep it in.

So my mum is in hospital waiting for surgery on what may or may not be cancer, either way it's surgery and that scares me a lot. I can't lose my mum. If I lose my mum, I lose everything. I'm praying every day that she will be ok but even my prayers are half hearted because I'm losing my faith. I'm convinced that I'm one of those people who just will never be truly happy because every time things start going well something bad happens and right now there is this one thing that I really really want that I think will make me very happy but I feel like if my mum is ok, then I don't get it, or if I get it, then I'm going to lose my mum. I don't think I'm allowed have both. It's unfair and it makes me angry but I truly believe that it's my lot, that that's how it's always going to be. I can be a little bit happy here and there, but real happiness for a prolonged period of time? No. Never. Not going to happen.

The meaning of life through my eyes? It's hard. It sucks. Once you accept that and get over it, you should be fine. But that's easier said than done, isn't it?

I cannot believe I let my whole experience of London go undocumented. Here at least. In my journal there is more than enough information but the effort of transcribing it all is simply too much. Lately I have been much happier writting down my thoughts, ideas, feeling etc. with a pen as opposed to a keyboard.
Going through this ridiculous phase of eighteenth century idealism and romanticism as I am, it seemes (especially as I wandered the streets and parks of London) far more appropriate to carry with me my litle journal which I could take out at intervals and document all I was seeing/doing, sometimes even drawing pictures. Although I think it fair to say that my artistic abilities leave a LOT to be desired.
I will say this of my visit to London: I am wholly lost to the idea of being in my very own romantic bildungsroman a la Miss Bennet or Miss Eyre. I simply can't help it...

Months later...

I know, I know, I'm a total farce. So many things have happened since last I tapped out words on this little screen. I've just been so busy, engrossed in my own little world and using a pen, rather than a keyboard to sound out my thoughts. Much has happened to my alter-ego Jane also, and much has been written of her, but I'm afraid you'll have to wait for that, Idon't have any of it with me.
I'm off to London on Wednesday, I really can't wait. The Power that is Una shall be accompanying me. Exciting much.
I shall update further then.