finished my first book.

The kitchen floor, I'm over you.
Edge of the bath, I'm over that too
Dude have I lost my keys? ...Hell NO! They're right here.
Those of you out there who said I was stupid, who I said I would never do it, I have finally let you go. All of you.

I've accomplished a small but significant dream and it's the first of many. I have one thing to say to those shadows who lingered so long over me: I jumped out of the fucking sky!! I came down 15,000 feet and it marked the beginning of the life I was to take control of. My life.  I sodding said I'd do it and I did it. Now I have finished my first book. One of many that is half written in my collection. I am on a roll, a true roll, a sausage roll! I am thrilled with myself and I've finally put those ghosts to rest. I am one with myself and my writing. I am AWESOME. I'll say it again: I am awesome.
Go me, Go me!

I may be poor, I may be a new graduate who is (cringe!) unemployed, but I'm writing and that's all I ever wanted to do. I will fall into a job eventually, with the effort I'm putting in it will be sooner rather than later, life will work itself out and in the meantime I am content. I know my own worth. 

Sex after a week.

It's been a while since I divulged a passage like this but I can't sleep, I'm still a little too warm and tingling all over. I tingle. It's an accurate description, like little pinpricks of heat that burst on the surface and spread like a shadow over my skin. I tingled when he greeted me on our first date, I tingled like crazy when he held my hand in the cinema for the first time stroking my skin with his thumb over and over again until I thought I'd faint from that miniscule contact. I tingled on his bed in the early hours of the morning when he said he ought to walk to me home instead of carrying on. I still tingle. I may well be suffering from mini strokes every other day! My heart may be ill equipped to deal with such feeling. So still tingling from the inside out, here we go:

Taught a lesson

A vice like grip seized my throat and caught me off guard backing me aggressively into the wall as his mouth assaulted mine. Assaulted is the right word, has he ever kissed me like this before? Hard rushed angry kisses barely even caring where they landed I was in a turned on daze and it took a few moments to remember the use of my arms and wrap them around his bare torso. The wall was cold behind my back and he was yanking my loose dress down carelessly, the fabric getting tangled with the cups of the bodice I wore beneath. The bodice was beautiful, mint green and black lace coming down easily too and I bit my lip closing my eyes in the same half humiliation half erotic feeling I always felt when my bare breasts were forced into the light. I didn't have the chance to cover them before his mouth took one and I lost balance and my knees weakened dropping my height a level. The pressure of his knee between my legs stopped me sliding down the wall and he used a free hand to pull at my hair bringing my face up, as my head went back it pressed the light switch and turned the light on and back off, I suppressed not too well an ill timed giggle and was forced to pay for it with a hurried hand in my knickers testing how ready I was. I was smouldering hot and conscious of the noise I was making, I knew I'd gotten wet the moment that grip had seized my throat. My dress had fallen to the carpet and in the affirmative that I was soaking he gripped my upper arms and tossed me unceremoniously from the wall to the bed where I fell in an ungraceful heap, catching my flaying ankles he twisted me around and dragged me down so my back end almost fell from the bed and he clenched it in his hands drawing my hips up to meet his standing position, pulling my knickers aside rather than off and taking no time to thrust in I gasped and held my breath. With a shock of tight pain and then an immediate acceptance and response my body clenched and instinctively I arched away, the length, the size was too much to cope with after a weeks abstinence. He was ruthless holding me steady and going faster so a few moments later I climaxed desperately reaching out for a pillow or something to muffle the sounds I couldn't bite down on. I think I said his name, I lost coherent thought until he pushed away from me and lay down silently demanding that I straddle him. My legs were shaking and I struggled clumsily to remove my knickers taking the opportunity to pull my bodice back up over my breasts. Legs on either side and hovering above him he immediately undid my work and with heavy hands pulled my breasts back out on display tugging ruthlessly at the tips of my nipples as I lowered myself to have him inside, I'd have held him there slowly to reduce the spasm of my body but he thrust up and I was racked with another orgasm. I always came harder when my hair was being pulled or my nipples being pinched, pain suddenly lost true meaning in these situations, it spurred me on as I worked into a rocking rhyme and knowing full well I'd be bruised in the morning I encouraged him and sacrificed my tender breasts to his mouth and fingers. .....

And someone would like a glass of orange juice so I'll leave that there. Cut another 10 minutes short, hot, amazing, fuck! Hair a tangled mess, "Put THAT in your book!" he says the cocky bastard, wet patch on my side of the bed! Me nagging for a cup of tea afterwards, which of course I got ;-) and yes this passage will most likely feature in my book.

Fish back in water

Leaving uni has felt how I imagine a caught fish feels upon being entered back into the water. I can breathe again. Instead of frantically worrying about deadlines or reading over and over again books and essays I don't want to read I am writing my books and finding there's not enough hours in the day. My ideas are flowing rapidly and I'm back in the full swing of writing. Three years of neglect has been a torment, a torment I will not go through again. This is what I should have been doing from the very beginning. My first novel is almost finished and once it is I already have the basic plot layout for my next book which I will start immediately. 

New Book

Had a bright new fresh idea for my next book, I'm back in the swing of writing what I like so now the prose is flowing and I'm excited to get onto this second novel. :-) The official start date I am setting myself is 1st September since that's when my Affair book will be finished. Hopefully by January I'll have two books done and dusted.

Now I'm going on a morning run with Phil :-)

Two un-bought seats.

There are so many people I would be happy to share this supposed special day with and yet the ones I am lumped with who are likely just going to let me down I couldn't care less about. I'd have Pidgin and Brett, one of my brothers, Jones, Christ I'd pay for a seat for Jerome and Paul but instead I've got to keep watching the days tick by getting closer and closer to the very serious possibility that I'll be there alone. I only have two spaces I can save, if I gave them to someone else I'd never be forgiven but if they don't hurry up and sort this out those spaces won't even be available any more. I refuse to let myself get upset over this. I will not shed tears over this. I do not care and I will go to my grave not caring.

Last Night

Last night was exactly what I needed. Back at Coniston enjoying my favourite things, Jones in bed and a feel good movie. I'm spoilt rotten you know, not just by the bedroom antics but the little things. Jones had taken the trouble to stock the freezer with ice cream and lollies since I can barely cope without moaning in this unnatural heat wave we're having. I couldn't stop smiling to myself when I finally climbed into bed to go to sleep. Tonight I'll be back again for a long weekend and I can barely keep myself from counting down the hours.

So in honour of my rare and slightly disorientated lovey-dovey mood I thought I'd share some of my sketches of my Mr Jones that I did in moments of loser-ness :-P

Sketch of Lucifer the devil edited into Jones

Jones

Me

Woman on top

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Brett, Pidgin and a BBQ

I'm glad we made up. Yesterday in particular felt awesome. You being an arse with embarrassing memories and the rest of us laughing away while just us two exchanged a few looks of just...appreciation for each others friendship. I'm glad the group still holds ranks despite our lives changing. Sitting in a circle on the grass just being together felt good. I know I'm selfish, I know I'm possessive and have no right to be, not where you're concerned. It's just I had you to myself for so long it was a hard adjustment letting you go. I should have trusted you more to come back, because you did.

Drunken texts and Clent walks aside, you mean more to me than I'm comfortable admitting. So does Pidgin. Without the two of you I'd be lost. Jones is wonderful, he's the best thing that could have happened to me, but that doesn't mean he can ever replace the two of you. I still need you both and always will. I've been upset about Pidgin leaving and I didn't like feeling as if you wouldn't be around to make me feel better in her absence. I'm sorry I've doubted you in the past, that has been one of my biggest mistakes. I hope you can overlook my childishness, the way I overlook your rude comments about my tits!! haha :-P Love you.

My Mr Jones

I decided sifting through my blog that it might be nice for new readers who don't feel like trawling through early posts to read a selection of the blog posts I wrote in the beginning of my romance with My Mr Jones. :-) So here's a selection that tells the start of our story.

 

The Randomer:

I can’t go any longer without blogging about this!! So Let me fill you in...

 I was not very surprised when a randomer messaged me on facebook regarding bootcamp something or other… I was getting a few strangers talking to me ever since my status glared out 'SINGLE' they were regularly popping up, as referred to before, like daffodils. I was polite I hope, and friendly as normal but didn’t think anything of this particular conversation with another randomer. In truth I forgot the whole thing and Monday night arrives and I’m an irritated huff rapidly getting ready for fitness. My usual sport clothes had done a bunk and I was freaking that I had to resort to the most god awful T-shirt but then again, it’s fitness it’s not a big deal. Makeup could sod off too. Once I met with the sisters my mood rapidly changed direction and we walked into the hall laughing at something or other. Why I always seem to walk through the door first is beyond me, and I always smile like an absolute weirdo when approaching a crowd. None the less, we were there as usual and the group was bigger but I didn’t really pay attention, I was rattling on about something I imagine. I just don’t pick up on things! So when Chrissie starts whispering to me five minutes later…

“Who’s the new guy?, he keeps staring over.”

My reaction was a comical… “What? Who? Where?”- Look in indicated direction for a millisecond “I dunno him.” …. “Oh wait” double look, ooo facebook randomer? Jam tarts are featuring vividly in my mind now, an after impression in my mind of said conversation, “He’s this randomer off facebook.” I explained.

Stacey chips in, wants to know what’s occurring.

“Tight T-shirt guy, 12 O’clock, got the hots for Sian.”-Chrissie

“Don’t be stupid!” –me

“He does. Stacey watch him, dun he keep looking.” -Chrissie

“For god’s sake!” –me

Anyway…continue throwing heavy ball to floor and ok so my attention wasn’t completely on task. But now I was conscious of randomer, I looked over about once, or twice..ish. Hmm what’s he even doing here? Chap doesn’t look like he needs to be at a little fitness class, that’s mainly featuring young mothers and neighbours. Hmmm, T-shirt does look ridiculous, I actually got the giggles at one point, then felt like a bitch, I looked god awful at that moment! He was tall though, I like tall. Shit he just looked, did he see me look? I wasn’t looking! I was assessing. Don’t look again, just focus on the floor. Broad shoulders, I like broad shoulders, oh for god’s sake looked again! By now okay I’d looked a little bit, but still thinking total randomer!

What happened then, Bootcamp man knocks over a stool that’s as old as the country, I make a comment “Oi! That stools been here since I was at school!” I was quite amused, but seriously that stools an artefact! Was I subconsciously trying to draw attention to myself? No!

There’s a chuckle and then “I remember it being there when I was here! That's old”

I look up and oh Christ, it’s him. It's the tight T-shirt randomer.

“Hmmm” That’s what I said, yeah good one Sian, just say hmm all the time!  Quick say something else ...“It’s ancient! lol”

:-O God! Where do you get this stuff from Sian? It’s ancient!? don’t say anything else for god’s sake, lol- cringe, when did I turn into a walking facebook status? Chrissie’s there and she’s eyeing randomer and then eyeing me, and I’m thinking, just look at the floor. That’s my comfort zone, let’s just look at the floor.

Finally walk back home in the cold and we’re all having a giggle about fallen stool and randomer.

“You think he was trying to start a conversation?”-Stacey

“Doubt it.”- Me

“Yeah right, he definitely had a thing for Sian. I kept watching after and he was looking.” -Chrissie

“He wasn’t” –Me, frankly usually it’s a vest and fitted sport trousers not the lumpy god awful stuff I wore that week. I couldn’t imagine being looked at in a good light. If anything I'd probably done a grand job of changing the dudes mind, well I think he was too old to be referred to as a dude, not that he was ancient or anything, why do I care, I don't know him. He wasn't interested. He wasn't.

I was surprised when I saw a facebook message from the randomer the moment I logged on at home. Excluding awkward ‘stool’ moment we hadn’t said a word to each other at the class. However, I replied…fitness talk, food talk…I mention my healthy eating and get “one healthy meal does not good nutrition make!”

What!? Who is this tool? >:-/ Who talks like that, his word lexis is mimicking Shakespeare. That's a bit weird.

Oh he just said he thinks I’m ‘rather nice looking’, bit of a flush then, in my green baggy shirt! Really, what do I say to that? Let’s just say thank you. Oh Jesus he’s said it again, backing up the last comment, I don’t know what to say. Woman! He’s referring to me as a woman, since when am I a woman? Further along, this guy talks as if he’s as ancient as the stool, he doesn’t look that old,…Hmm might have to stalk for an age. Hang on a minute, no I am not! I doubt we shall even speak again after this. Oh god, it’s been a few hours? Where’s that time gone?

I mention country music, now from previous experience people are instantly put off by my music taste, without hesitation. I throw in a few names. LOL he won’t know these people. Time for bed, that’s the end of that.

Next day rolls along:

Oh my god, he’s youtubed my music, he likes some of it, I think I’m going to die. Genuine real comments on various Kenny Chesney songs, then it didn’t stop there, as if he just mentioned Toby Keith, and Miranda Lambert. I’ve died at this moment. As if he’s gone and listened and actually discovered stuff on his own. I think that was it for me to be honest, interest sky rocketed. But no, this is a randomer who must be 30 something, he talks like a descendant from a museum sculpture and I should probably stop this conversation. It's totally inappropriate. I am going to stop this conversation.

 

Ok so frankly, it’s really, really hard to stop talking to somebody who always says something you’re interested in. Every time I decided that I was going to drift off this conversation that had progressed to being an ongoing everyday occurrence, something would trigger my interest and I can’t not reply!! I have family members I don’t talk to this much! Sian he could be a serial killer, a random bootcamp serial killer…. He’s reading my blog!!!! In a few days this randomer has done more for me that means something than the Key Holder ever did in 6 years!! I think I’m getting over my head here, I really should establish friend zone, but he’s so nice! I’m actually enjoying this, I really should stop. If he’s a serial killer does it really matter? I mean country music, and america and stuff, and reading my blog! Serial killers don't read blogs!

Holy crap. He has a license for a motorbike. I’m gone, I’m tipped over the edge now. That’s it, it’s out of my hands. I've dreamt about a man on a motorbike since I was like six!

He’s started a blog, I’m on there, fully alive in written form. I’ve never known anyone to write about me before. He totally fancies me! OMG, isn't that awful, what am I supposed to say now, I don't fancy him do I? It's so inappropriate, what would my mother say? Christ I must discover how old this guy is. What's my limit 30? maybe push it to 35... :-/ it really doesn't matter, I don't fancy him, this is going no further. Maybe I shouldn't go to bootcamp fitness Monday. Hmmmm

I've bought new clothes for Monday's fitness class. Monday came along too fast. Okay so I was still thinking that nothing was going to occur, but last week I looked a state ok! So it’s totally understandable and in no way crazy that I went on a bit of a pre bootcamp make over, new hair dye, new sport clothes (I needed them anyway), little bit of makeup, I don’t want to go. I’m going to look like an idiot. I feel dizzy. I'm not going to go. I'm going to cancel.

 

Ok let’s just go, I’m just going to walk in as normal, nothing has changed, randomer is now friend, that is it. Just walk in...

“Stacey you go in first!”

Look at floor, look at Emma, pay money, quick glance round, oh sigh of relief! He’s not here yet. What! wait, what is he's not coming! I have dyed my hair! What if he doesn't turn up. Standing by the wall I’m really trying to listen to my groups chatter without looking around, I’m not looking, he might not come,

hmm if I angle my head and look in the window I might see a reflection of the room and see if he’s here yet, oh stop it! He’s there oh god. Look at floor, look at floor. Look at bootcamp man demonstrating, look at curtains, look at floor…anywhere but in that left hand corner! Listen to your group chattering, don’t look round, he’s probably not looked once. Seriously it’s not a big deal, it’s just…CHRIST! I’ve sodding dropped my water bottle, everywhere. Crap. I’m going to die.

The sisters keep nudging me, “Go and talk to him.”

“I’m not going over!”

End of bootcamp finally, let’s get out of here before I make an idiot of myself. He’s got people around him, he's absolutely surrounded by women! unbelievable. I am not going over, I am going to sneak out.  He won’t notice me leave. Arrr he’s noticed…

“Sian! Blog”

What happened to my tongue? I don’t know, but a very pathetic wave is all I managed seriously. Stacey’s kicking off

“Did you even speak to him once!!”

“I waved.”

a wave is practically saying something isn't it? I mean body language speaks. Cringe, I am so completely pathetic.

On the other hand, oh my god he spoke to me, he spoke to me!! Lol like two words but he said my name!!! He knows my name, was I dribbling? I hope not. He said it right! He said Sharn, not Ci anne, or sean, he said my name.

Yeah so I was on my laptop instantly. He had said 'blog' that meant to check out his blog, even I was not that slow to understand. I go on his blog.

Heaven is where that post is. A poem about me…about me! Actual real me. As if! It’s rather good, oh my god! Tingle tingle tingle…this is movie worthy. I might just melt now. I gotta ring somebody!

“Chrissie! The randomer, he’s written a poem about me!.. yeah it’s on his blog, yeah it’s obvious, it’s amazing. I can’t believe it.”

“He is nice, because I was proper checking him out this week, T-shirt was better as well.”

“It’s so lovely; I’ll send you the link.”

So yeah, that was my moment, I felt a real glow, a genuine butterfly flutter. I’m big on tingles, and that was a tingle. That was a full fledged tingle!!!

 I think I like him.

I haven’t smiled this much in a long time. That’s all I need to say for most people to understand.

 

First Date:

A bubble bath, the careful and precise glide of a razor, moisturise, dry hair, try and do something with hair, fail, leave hair down, makeup minimal, lipstick on, change mind- rub lipstick off, tights on, tights off, 1st dress, 2nd dress, tights back on, 3rd dress, 4th dress, back to 1st, settle with 3rd, perfume, bag, should I have put more makeup on? -Too late now.

Rain, it had to rain, wrong restaurant, right restaurant, great music, don't talk too much Siviter! Don't be silent, just relax, have a drink, don't spill food, don't spill food, why did waitress have to come when my mouth is full, get chatty with waitress, stop talking to the waitress Siviter! Don't knock anything over,  talk talk talk talk talk, crap we're gonna be late for the film :-) movie, dorky glasses, favourite seats :-) talk talk talk, so easy to talk :-) Don't over talk!.........

Home, a secret gift.....hmmm, now that's what you call a tingle.

It’s after midnight, and the dress is off

 

But the Cinderella magic remains, inside a silver box.

 

A white knight came riding, on a horse of steel and chrome

 

He stole back what once was mine, and really I should have known

 

It didn’t take a glass slipper, or a fairytale to make me smile,

 

Just a little silver box and a message worthwhile.

 

A Gentleman:

I'm rather amazed that after a handful of weak daffodils, a seedling has bloomed and I'm getting attached quite quickly. Too quickly. I have actually told myself to put a lock and key on areas of myself which I'm struggling to do!!! Because I'm letting myself fall too hard too fast maybe. It's really hard to hold back when you're completely utterly absorbed into someone and to not be bored in a guys company is amazing me!!! Actually feeling like I'm up to scratch is also a nice feeling. It's an even better feeling when i can see these gentlemanly traits shining through all the time and little romantic gestures are naturally occurring; a little silver box, a quick public kiss, hand holding for a long time, these silly things to a reader are dream like to me. Of course all this would be a downward spiral of pointlessness if a certain kind of attraction didn't exist, what we ladies have opted to call 'The Spark' if there was no spark, no need, or even craving for a little more, then all the above would be irrelevant...but that's there too. It's odd for me to feel like this, I can't remember feeling this sort of feeling before...I'm not sure if that's because there's a genuine compatibility and boxes are being ticked or if frankly this daffodil just has a bloody good idea of what he's doing!! It's probably a bit of both. I don't know what I'm doing! I'm totally lost. I'm actually useless I think but who cares he's good enough for the both of us! In three kisses I've felt more than I ever did in my life before. It's terribly exciting. My innocence to his experience maybe? -Now that sounds Jane Austen, but how else am I meant to phrase it?! That's got to have some bearing, I just don't know where I'm letting myself fall, addiction is never a good thing, but I don't intend to stop it anyway. I've fallen off the waggon haven't I? Christ. This is great, this is bad, this is out of my control. This is fun. lol  Siviter, you think too much.

 

A hardened heart poem:

I have a hardened heart, a battered and war scarred thing

It's suffered and struggled and survived the heartbreak men bring

I have a heart, hardened by love and it's loss and grief

hurt by pain and neglect, a war fought and by no means brief

I have since armoured my heart in iron and steel

from the risk of a second love, from which it might not heal.

I stitched and patched up the pieces, pumped molten iron inside

with nail and concrete I built a fortress around, for my little soldier to hide.

Susceptible to attacks my heart remains, my archers shoot down any who approach

I built no drawbridge to lower, I hold no white flag to wave

I take no prisoners, I have no mercy, only myself and my heart I'll save.

But damn it, against my thick stone walls there grows a weedlike root

it's vines are strong and cunning, they slip through the smallest crack

I command my army down, I lower my bows unable to shoot

but then this plant so slowly grows and pushes through, attack attack!

The roots they plunge deep, deeper still, into my tunnels, into my ground

it's branches grasp and cling to my towers, slipping in windows, until my heart is found.

Attack attack, there is a threat inside, quick retreat, retreat into the night

It's too late, the solider must rise up and fight.

No my solider you are too weak,

not yet strong enough, don't admit defeat!

sound the bells, call up to the lord, arm yourselves for war

don't drag your weapons, rise up! rise up! Don't fall. Don't fall. For god's sake don't fall.

 

A crumbling fortress poem:

Well my soldiers you fought gallantly,

bravery and honour through and through

but our fortress has been plundered, we've lost this war,

surrender is definite for me and you

Our ward has been taken by the enemy, captured and stolen away

for her safety we can only hope and pray

we've lost our Heart, our dear one today.

do not mourn, my army, as we drag our sorry feet away

we couldn't fight a force so strong, it was bound to happen some day.

Damn it! my walls are down

no point letting the bells sound

they fall on deaf ears, my troops are homeward bound.

once righteous men, in their glory and steel

now they slink away, into a feeling so raw and real

I slip off my undergarments, pure white with innocence and virtue,

I raise them up, as my white flag, I surrender to you

My fortress has been torn down, a tree stands in its place

I drop my shield, my bow, my arrows, in you I put all my faith.

I led a good army, I had built a good wall, we fought a good battle for a while

but the walls crumbled, and with it we all fall, they do not seem to mind their loss,

I watch, with not a heavy heart, for it has gone, and I see my soldiers smile.

well I raise my bag and lay down my command, here we go again,

We shall walk this road my soldiers, for here only a crumbling fortress remains.

 

Don’t say it out loud poem:

Hold it back, bite your lips

Don’t admit you’ve slipped

Falling asleep it’s there

Too fast, too raw, too rare

Fallen from my cloud

Don’t say it yet angel, don’t say it out loud.

Hold it inside, your own secret to keep

Please god don’t let me talk in my sleep

Fallen so far from my cloud

Not yet angel, don’t say it out loud.

 

 

 

 

If this was all a dream:
If I were to wake up now, had all this been just a dream
Would I cry and breakdown, would I beg and shake and scream?
Have I lost myself in this so far along the road
That If I woke up now I'd miss this feeling I now hold?
Would I try and find my way back? would I fail and crumble?
Would I walk down the road, to see if you were really there?
If I were to wake up now, how much would I care?
If I woke up from this dream, would you wake up somewhere?
Or would you wait there for me to come back to you?

If I were to wake up now, had this all been just a dream
I wonder how far back in time I'd go, how long have I been asleep?
I wouldn't go back to my old life, I wouldn't forget all that's new
I would look at him and wish he were you.
I would have lost this glow I have, but the memory would remain
If I woke up now, nothing would ever be the same.
I'd gather up my friends, and tell them how loved they are
Before I went to sleep, they didn't hear it enough.
I'd throw away that cage and the keys with it too,
Learn to stand on my own two feet
But could I learn to be without you?
In my dreams I had a solider, a tree, a daffodil
I had a wolf to make me hot at night
I had friends I'd die for, and I was made up of a burning light
Don't let me wake, if this is just a dream
I'd rather sleep forever in his arms, than wake into reality.

Fallen in Love...I swore this wouldn't happen.

I swore to myself well over half a year ago now that I would never let myself fall so deeply again that I'd lose focus and control, I was so adamant that I wouldn't let myself ever become vulnerable like that again, because frankly the pain of being abandoned by your best friend is just too raw and too real an agony to face twice. I said I would remain in control, and always one step back, I wouldn't throw myself to the wind but stay steady and strong and withdrawn to an extent. I wasn't going to fall fully in love again, I would be the one who loved less and held back. I broke my own promise to myself and I cant quite figure out when this happened. Loving someone and knowing you're incomplete without them are two very different things, I was perfectly happy and content to feel myself in love and loved back, but this...this god awful burning like I've lived my whole life with him and not realised it, well it's pissing me off. This is a deeper sort of love than I was prepared for. I swore I wouldn't let this happen, I never wanted to lose focus and let myself become so attached that I risked the pain of not being good enough to keep again. If I could freeze-frame the last so many months and pick out the moments that past me by but clearly impacted on my heart I would scrutinise them until I saw what the hell has brought me to this.

I can't believe I was so desperately serious about holding back myself and my feelings just for love to get the better of me anyway. I didn't allow this! I don't want to be so much in love I can hardly think about anything else, I don't want to feel this lost just because I'm spending one day without him, it's not right to miss someone that much!! Some idiots think its soppy and cute, and what makes a romance, it's not! it's awful and I know it's too late to change it. The fear of falling has never scared me, it's the fear of hitting the cold hard ground and being left alone to bleed out that's really plaguing my mind. Is love supposed to make you feel this out of control? How did you let this happen Siviter? I swear a week or maybe more ago you were in control, and you were still if, and maybe, and perhaps, and you were withdrawn, not to a noticeable degree but still we knew we could walk away and be ok. that's gone now. I'd rather have my wings ripped out than walk away of my own choosing. I've definitely gone overboard, and I can't swim. At some point you've handed yourself over like a sacrifice waiting to be slaughtered...forever is just a word, and words mean nothing but the value the listener puts to them, which is not always on level with the giver, words mean nothing.  I guess I still feel like I'm not good enough to keep. Maybe that feeling will stay with me the rest of my life.


Hard to hold back:

 

When I said I wanted to put my emotions a step or two back I meant it.
I just don't understand why it's so bloody hard to hold back. From the start this randomer has drawn everything out of me, extracting piece by piece with precision. I never meant for that conversation to go further than one night, nor for that first date to go so well or that I'd talk so much, I'm usually so quiet, or to give up my virginity in a few weeks like some pagan sacrifice! I didn't mean to fall in so deep, if at all! and this is all still exceedingly frustrating.

I enjoy everything too much. Not just a general spending time with this person sort of thing, but listening to every word, loving every simple touch, I'm still not used to the way things are now.  I knock things over and it doesn't matter. I ramble on and he listens intently. I'm granted plenty of attention, I'm allowed space when I want it...I'm basically a well pampered animal. All the things over the years I learnt to be my faults that I tried to box away, they're what makes up the real me and I don't have to try and edit out anything from myself anymore. Which is great but it's also hard to get used to. The more I spend time with him the more of myself comes out and he doesn't seem to mind. It makes me question how long was I actually pretending to be someone I wasn't, and why did I ever lower myself to such standards.

I miss him on an hourly rate, just a general can't wait till I can see and touch again. I never missed anyone like that before. Its like I'm on sodding life support, and seeing him is my daily intake of an oxygen supply. Damn it I was supposed to be trying to reign in my ever falling emotions.

Find me in the next life:

How long have I been waiting for you?
how much have I loved you all my life?
were you waiting for me? the way I waited each night
not knowing what I waited for, not knowing you were the light
how long have I been yours? how long have you been mine?
because I'm sure I've known you forever, through the ages of time.

when did we first meet? was it really just the other day?
I'm so certain I see in you a million lifetimes away
I have no memories, but this feeling inside
I've known you for many years and theres nowhere to hide
if I die tomorrow, I'll find you in the next life
as I have each time before, I sense it deep inside.
I am yours and you are mine
find me in the next life.

I accept the spiral:

So that weird feeling I last mentioned disappeared on it's own. I can't control my life or my feelings, and if spiralling out of control is what's happening then I'm going to enjoy the ride. Wooooo! spiral spiral spiral!!! I'm crazy incredibly happy right now this moment. So many signs, so many good omens, and I'm just drifting along lazing by the river of contentment.

 I had a broken heart that I mended on my own,
I had a cage that has been opened up,
 I had a fortress that's been broken into
and I had a patch of daffodils that were pretty enough
 until a really bright one came along that turned into an evergreen tree.
I had a half dead pair of wings that have been re-made
and I had a Christians virginity that has now been given freely.

I now have a heart worth keeping,
 I have an air balloon to ride,
 I have a sky to fly in,
I have a thriving tree of life,
I have a pair of wings grown and forged by my own hand,
 I have an umbrella of a childhood dream under which I can stand
I have so much wonder in my life, I'll never forget it again
be it sun, or wind, or snow, or even heavy falling rain
I'll never sink again, I'll never forget again.

the past is reading my clutter

I suppose I should be thrilled by any view counts on the statistic side of my blog. I'm always enthusiastic when I trace views and see that I have a few coming in from America, the Ukraine, Sweden. Then you hear something that makes your stomach churn and you think not for the first time, I really only became alive a few years ago. Like the rattling of those old rusty keys the shadow of memories jingle in the distance.

    I love Brett. I love him like family, like an old toy I can't part with, because he's my favourite. I can admit openly that I don't like to share him but I know I have to. I love the way Brett tells me everything. Naughty giggles about private things, awkward issues within friendship groups, even difficult semi-feelings about people that are hard to decipher. I like the way I don't have to hide things from him because when I'm upset or angry, furious even over something, I can phone him and cry and get mad, rant at him to read my blog if he wants to know what's going on in my head, but then we work it out. We snuggle and nod our appreciation of each other. Because that's what best friends do.

Half of this blog will be published in an autobiography one day, until then it's a form of therapy for myself. Yes it gets some of my creative writing noticed but it's mainly my way of getting out these cluttering thoughts. To hear from my dearest that my cluttered thoughts are being haunted by those rattling keys is a little ....strange. I would have thought the ghosts of my past would have found better things to do, I wish they would.
 I don't write this blog for other people, that may sound silly since it's public and available worldwide but I write this blog for my own amusement and well being.
and sometimes my closest heart strings like Pidgin and my Mr Jones can get an insight into my feelings that I don't give freely.

Sometimes My Mr Jones reads through my blogs secretly during a break at work, a late morning or on the way to work and he discovers my adoration for him in my written words, the sexual desperation, the misery from these four walls and the sanctuary I find in his flat. I like the way I can write out my feelings and he can come across them at his leisure and be surprised and thrilled by most of them. I say I love you and we kiss and cuddle enough to make cupid feel like throwing himself overboard but I hold back so much in comparison to what I get in return. I let him cook for me, wait on me, sweep me off on dates and weekends, buy me extravagant presents and I enjoy the luxury. I enjoy being told I'm wonderful and it's nice to be spoilt. Being on his arm is fun too, letting him show me off in a new outfit, playing with my hair in public to show everyone I'm his territory is a never ending flutter of butterflies. I enjoy the way he looks at me and wants me and I like feeling so utterly loved. Sometimes I feel like I mean everything to him, and I believe I'm special in those moments. Some of my blog posts are my simple way of returning that feeling, letting him know without blushing that I feel the same.
Are you reading this now my Mr Jones? If you are -where's my home baked Victoria sponge??!! haha ..And I don't hear the kettle boiling. ;-)
Come and tell me again how much you love me in your life
so this memory I've been reminded of today drifts off, like a kite.
Not my best rhyme but I'm a novelist damn it!

Whispering

There's a voice in the tip tapping rain that's trying to break through whispering
"Grace, where are you? and when are you coming home?"

Hell and the plant

If I were to die and be sent to Hell it wouldn't be a fiery pit of everlasting pain. Hell to me would be these four walls with mould creeping up every corner, headache noise rising up through the floor and the walls, bare cupboards and an empty fridge. Broken appliances and a half hearted attempt at being alive.  No washing machine, no microwave, no oven, no bathroom sink, no taps on the kitchen sink, no flushing toilet, no toilet at all, no central heating on, no weather proof windows, no carpet or appropriate floor of any kind, no banister on the stairs, no hope. One thing after the other, if one element of this nightmare is so lucky as to be fixed or replaced after generally a year or more of going without the next thing decides to jutter to a stop and promptly dies. It's as if there is a black cloud over these four walls that hangs like a dead corpse from a rope around its neck. I can't stand it. Hardly any hygiene, even less intelligence. I can't stand it.

I was eleven when we had a school project to grow a plant from a seed. My seed grew on the classroom windowsill and I checked on it everyday. My little green shoot was the only one to survive and grow into a five inch sprout at which point I could take it home. One day. It lasted one day before shrivelling into a brown lifeless strand of something which was once alive. I had a very miserable and deep moment for an eleven year old then and decided that anything that came into these four walls was doomed and if I didn't myself out soon enough I would shrivel in the same dark and mean way. It's been ten years since then and I'm still trapped here and still think exactly the same as I did then. It wasn't a thought I grew out of, it was a very real belief and to this day and the day I die I'll believe it.

Sleeping beauty. Poem

Sleeping beauty won't you wake?

 From this slumber, my heart you take

To this land where I cannot follow 

 into the dream where they keep you prisoner. 

Sleeping beauty I beg thee wake

Wake up from this death like peace 

And be with me your wake life prince 

Forty and heaven

I'm old. I think I've been forty since I was eleven. My heads pounding, my knees are throbbing with arthritic pain and I'm so relieved to be home with a cup of tea in my hand. No part of me, no part at all is regretful or disappointed in my inability to take this night further. Having no money sucks, but that's because walking around the supermarket today with £6 was really depressing and so much yummy food was screaming to be had and I couldn't have it. I don't think I'm boring, I think I'm old. I had such fun with my sister in law today, drinking tea, laughing and joking completely at ease. I enjoy hearing about the children and everyday it makes me want my own. I like discussing special offers and quick recipes. I like Pinterest being the coolest thing ever!

 

I know who I am so much better than I ever did before and I know what I want so much it burns in my dreams. I'm craving it. I want a life that's 10 years ahead of me. I want it now and I really mean it. Patience is the most illusive accomplishment I need to have. 

At least I'm happy here. Happy and at peace. Coniston is my sanctuary, my church, my refuge. I love it here. It's so special to have a place that's away from the grey clouds. It's like the forts I built as a child. This place is the first escape I've found that's been a genuine retreat from the haunting of those grey clouds and those four walls. Although it's not mine, it feels very nearly close to being so. This side of the bed, this side table, this shelf in the fridge and this use of a television and plug socket is all mine, borrowed to me with no expectation of anything in return for such luxuries. I am in heaven.

 

Weeks break from my book

I took a week's break from writing my book. Needed a breather to think over some of the finer details of the plot and finalise how I want my characters personalities to be viewed. I've had a lovely weekend full of fun stuff, so cram packed that you don't have the time to just lay around and drink a cup of tea like the norm but now I'm back into a writing frame of mind. I have two months left until the deadline I set myself so I have to crack on. Hammer out a few chapters every day at least. I feel very positive about this book, even if not a single person picks it up and enjoys this one, having it out there will mean I'm onto the next. The more I can get finished the better off I will feel. I've been waiting to finish these stories for years.

Pidgins home.

Pidgin is home from a 10 day holiday away. I was waiting to hear from her and was filled with joy and relief when I did. 10 days and it felt like half a lifetime, how will I be without her for 8 months come October? I collect and drop friends like favourite foods getting bored of one thing eventually and losing my taste for it. Pidgins different, my one true long standing friend who is like cake. Although I may love chicken wraps one week and prefer steak and kidney pie the next, I will always always love cake. Pidgins like cake even if it's a bit off or crumbling around the edges it's still my favourite thing to eat. Not that pidgin a gone off, or crumbly but you get the point. 8 months. I feel a little like I'm waiting for the heart break of the end of a relationship. I promise myself I will not let that happen! I will not give her up. She will go, she will return and I will still be here and I won't forget. I don't want to be forgotten again. I've felt a little low today thinking this all over. 8 months. It will be like having no tea bags for 8 months, who can live without teabags! The longest I've ever gone is a few days! 

Empty within. Poem

I cannot feel you, but I lay a hand upon you none the less 

I cannot feel the emptiness and yet I know it's there 

A lack of life, an unused machine ready and wanting to be filled

I dream of you, sometimes. 

I think it will be my greatest treasure, my most brilliant dream 

But now I am alone, empty within. 

Dreams.

I don't believe any of that nonesense about dreams meaning things. I think dreams are simply an over active mind trying to deal with issues within the subconscious that it's been unable to deal with throughout your waking hours. Never the less I have on occasion dreamt things that have then come to pass but I regard this as a coincidence. My waking genuine predictions are often random and painstakingly accurate usually in the form of a careless comment or a half joke that then comes into being some time later. I cast the tarot cards when I want to look at an issue in detail, sometimes I cast just for the fun of it, to experience the calming ritual of lighting candle and incense while scrying. I would like to have dreamless sleep though, I'm always more calm and content throughout a day where the night before has been blissfully empty. My dreams are too complicated, too personal and too lingering for me to forget them upon waking. Sometimes my dreams upset me for days because of what they have made me think about, sometimes they just plain annoy me with their mental exhaustion. I envy those who say they never dream or if they do they don't remember them after the first few seconds of being awake. I would love the emptiness of sleep, I would appreciate the ability to forget, but my dreams remind me. They remind me every time I've almost forgotten. 

Re reading

I've just re-read my blog post 'Cinderella, no magic' and I can write some seriously depressing ramblings. The miserble thing is that I meant every word, and re-reading it just re affirms such beliefs.  I know I go on, I know I just ramble here because talking to no one in particular is much easier than talking to someone but that doesn't mean what I say isn't true at the time I wrote it and most often true ever after. I don't think I'm a depressing person, most people think I'm unnaturally happy and bubbly all the time! But I have gloomy thoughts and when I reflect on those thoughts I feel that word that haunts me: inadequate 

Thinking

Every now and then I'm reminded of what I want, what I really don't want and who I am. This reminder hits like a ton of bricks and it's usually in the same situations. I won't go into detail about these situations or the people around them but I know I've not yet reached the point of life I want to be at. I don't have the things I want. I'm not an average normal 21year old, I was never a normal teenager. I want things people gasp and shake their heads at because I'm too young. But I don't feel too young, I feel older everyday and I feel as if I'm surrounded by people too young for me. That's why I'm so happy in my sister in laws company who is frankly my best friend next to pidgin and who is 30, and why I love Jones so much who is almost 10 years my senior. 

Post Grad Standstill

I wish I had a dock nearby, sail boats anchored and seagulls over head At least then I'd be doing justice to this song: "Sitting on the dock of a bay, wasting time."

 Bit of a weird standstill now university is finally over, people are crying over lost 1st's or jumping for joy with their 2:1's and above. Hell I was shocked to have scraped a pitiful 3rd never mind being just a few marks from getting a 2:1 myself, but honestly who cares? I've said it before I will say it again I do not measure my self worth by numbers on a page. A 2:2 on some computer screen beneath my name in the distance is good enough for me.

I'm hitting repeat on a Lady Antebellum song as if that might rewind time just 3 minutes, time is what we're running out of and it's the only thing we need.

Thoroughly disappointed with university as I was I can still look over the last three years and select the bits that really made a difference.

Getting that part time job as a waitress, a whole 13 months of sweat, sore feet and choking on peri peri somehow structured me into a confident bubbly person who can chat with anyone and speak up for herself, what a character change from the timid hermit I was at college.

Nursing a broken heart and realising just because something was familiar didn't mean it was wonderful or even tolerable.

Jumping out of a plane at 15,000 feet

Coming to terms with the fact that I will never understand or approve of my parents, their ideas, their lifestyle and accepting that they will never change for me. I will always feel that way and keeping yourself to yourself until the day you leave is sometimes the only option that prevents you from slipping into a coma of hatred.

Meeting my Mr Jones, and being treated the right way for a change.

In addition to the above, losing my virginity. An act I thought might never happen! Learning what sex is and what it's not, compared to the movies

Experiencing passion.

Finally learning how to cope with the pain of my arthritis on my own, without being reduced to tears of pain on a daily basis.

Learning that just because university says so doesn't make something an awesome read. Poetry sucks when it's dissected like a dead frog, so screw you poetry bastard, screw you and your 58!!

Finding out that some friends only want to be your friend when you're sad and alone, as if they feed off your misery. Real friends accept you when you're wounded and once you've healed and welcome whoever it is that contributed to that healing process.

Holding a family together will never work when they're not all willing to hold hands with you. You can't please everyone.

Finally taking my own dream seriously.

Food Hmmm

My love for food I am beginning to think is slightly unnatural. I have dreams while I sleep about food, not every night but often. I think about food a lot throughout the day. I fantasise about the perfect thick slab of Victoria sponge with lashings of jam and fresh cream, served with a bowl of fresh strawberries. Jones' chocolate cake warm and gooey from the oven served with raspberry sorbet. Steak and kidney pies cooked perfectly so the top pastry lid flakes and pops off in one swift movement letting loose to the steam from the thick clotted gravy. Donor kebabs sweaty with grease and smothered in mayonnaise. Jones' spaghetti bolognaise. Cheese toasties. Full English breakfast at the aquatic café. Hot smoking cottage pie on a cold day. Steak stew with thickly buttered crusty bread rolls. Sage and onion stuffing-the packet stuff. Heniz tomato soup. Those little tea time treat cake selections from Iceland. Southern fried chicken. Fish cakes with parsley sauce.
.............................Hmmmm

Chocolate truffles from Thornton's.

I'm just hungry again. There's an apple in the fridge that looks completely unappetising. Not that I don't like apples. I love apples, when they're pinkish red and chilled but I love apples as an afterthought to lets say....a chicken tikka curry or a plate of Chinese noodles..oooo that's it. Chinese noodles, you know the brown ones. Special Chow Mein, with a curry sauce and prawn crackers. Then I'd eat the apple happily afterwards. The apple would be better served in a crumble of course, hot and with scalding custard. Hmmmmm.