Just like the rest,
You are Just like the rest,
Am I'm tired,

and brambled,
and dragged through the hedge,
over the coals.

and I am embers.
and burnt toast,
when it's your last piece of bread
crumbs of blackened heart
all over the kitchen

and it gets in the cracks
like salt in the chaps

The Sun Ain't Shining No More

here I am looking for silver linings, and whilst I'm trying to be positive I lose something.
and I get to be alone some more. oh _lucky_ me.

Blessings.

My mum loves me and is the best mum of all.

My auntie has an astonishing facility for finding the positive aspects of everything. Even having surgery.

My cousin is up and about again. If a little tentatively.

My loopy brother had some good genetic traits to pass on to a sprog- he's not ugly or thick. Apparently he loves me too, although I usually find that a bit far fetched and definitely do not rely on it.

I have managed without a dyslexia tutor for the last twenty eight years and will keep on compensating as long as I need to. ditto DSA money.

I can't think of a silver lining for the lack of long term counselling, I probably ought to count it as priority number one.

My revolting paedo father will get his comeuppance. The universe is not kind to wife beating, nit-picking, kiddy fiddlers.

There is no silver lining to the bugs either. They have Got To Go.

Whilst it is undoubtedly true that my flatemates are warthogs, they are not dealing coke from the kitchen, nor do they have large unfriendly dogs that shit in the house and try to eat guests. Neither do they have primark moll girlfriends who try to poison the place with "air freshening" toxic chemicals. (This is a surprisingly large blessing.)

The sour puss, control freak, two faced bitch is already making me look good. The kids like me, and that's the really important thing :)

I am way behind with my academic work, but I don't think it is too late yet.

My period is very much arrived. Thus I do not have to concern myself with the possibility of having to feed two mouths on my student loan or my mum having to have a second cow. It isn't even very painful, which is unusual, and lovely. (thank you universe)

I'm pretty tired, but I do not have to get up early in the morning.
And the cold is on it's very last legs. (Yay kiwi fruit!)

still smiling (it's not gas)

My mum has nasty flu, will be in hospital for 'minor' surgery next month, and is having a cow about my brother (see below)

My auntie is just out of hospital now having had surgery.

My cousin is in hospital post surgery and due for more chemo, which doesn't seem to be helping as much as he'd/we'd/they'd/I'd hoped.

My loopy brother has gotten his mentally ill girlfriend pregnant, no idea what his other girlfriend's gonna think, or how soon we're going to face the fallout of what is undoubtedly his most stupid idea yet.

My university assure me that I am a priority but they still cant find me a dyslexia tutor, the LEA hasn't even bothered to reply to me yet, never mind allocate me anything or return my passport.

I still can't find long term counselling.

My revolting paedo father is out on bail and seems likely to get away with abusing two more of his children, partly because my brother (see above) is too messed up to give any more evidence.

I have bugs that live in my bed and bite me when I'm not paying attention.

My flatemates are warthogs. With blue gunk. The hair and water and pee I get, I even understand the grease and crumbs and inability to wash cutlery ( I do not exaggerate) but what is the blue gunk about? Indeed what is the blue gunk?

The teacher in whose class I am undertaking my placement is a genuine sour puss control freak two faced bitch.

I am way way way behind with my academic work, so much so that it is almost too late.

I've run out of money.

My period is late (actually it arrived as I was posting this, small blessings)

I'm pretty tired, with the remains of a nasty cold.

Other than that I'm fine. Surprisingly positive.

Dear Bint

He's not really mine, and I have no right to be hurt,
but I am and I have an overwhelming urge to send
her a really nasty message.
It writes itself in my head over and over again...

"Dear Lauren,
You are very young and pretty and slim.
And I'm sure your fingers are also very young and pretty and slim.
But I swear to you now that if you lay one on my gremlin again I will break it in two places.

You take care now."

I wont of course.

through the grain

I can't seem to cope at all sometimes.
Especially when I've been 'up', 'down' is so much further down.
None of it the wild variation is anybodies concern.
None of it at all.

I struggle to contain it all, to carry the responsibility and to know
that the burden is mine, and mine alone.
That it can only ever be mine.
It's hard to know that sometimes.

Through the 'grey' things can seem really clear, but assuming
they are real is to mistake silhouettes and shadows for reality.

It's better to know I'm alone all along.
To become accustomed to just being.
To practice keeping it all in. Keep the shutters safe and locked.
To avoid the rude awakening, coming upon it suddenly,
materialising out of the mist.

Having thought you knew where you were in the dim quiet,
coming upon reality,
can be just like walking into an electric fence.

soundtrack: suzanne vega, night vision

The Grey

I've been floating recently.

Into the bleak places, through the layers of grey,
sometimes I surface to the light.
In this new space of mine there is at least light,
most days I get a couple hours, if I'm here to see it.
If I am I will bask in it, literally, and for a little
while I feel like a person. I feel real, I feel whole.
The gold washes over me and penetrates the dark
parts. Then, like a switch is flicked, a reaction begins
and my soul begins to fire, the glow from inside
slowly spreading throughout me.
Giving me the energy to handle everything.

I don't know why the feeling can't last.
But it can't.
I begin to sink again.

furniture

My Bed. Without you in it, the most pointless piece of furniture in existence.

single

of my own volition. but ouchy.
weird.
i'm a bit puffy.
really don't want to eat.
longing for a cuddle.
cuddles was never the problem between me and J.
The problems were everything Apart from hugs.
I don't know what to do with myself.
I'm wafting.
It's rubbish.
I always act so nonchalant, and detached;
'yeah, I think I might break up with J soon'
but I'm so sad...
He was pretty much the first nice guy I've been out with.
stable, solvent, kind, patient.
My family thinks I'm crazy, they really like him.
And he really likes them.
AM i some kind of fool?
I think I know what I'm doing.
sort of.

but it might be a bit lonely.

I seen the diplodicus

and it seen me.

I took my friends to the science and to the natural history museum today. They were in town for weekend and that's what they wanted to see. That sounded fine, because I love it in the museums.
But I ended up feeling really sad though.
My lover, the guy I'm not seeing, who doesn't exist, and to whose family I do not belong, is bringing his kids up to London for the half term weekend. There were discussions about meeting him. Where, for how long, How in general?
One of the half crazed discussions was; how can I come with him and kid/s to the museums? How could I look non threatening, unnoticeable?
And of course it's not going to happen. Because it's insane.
So I found that looking round my favourite museums, with a happy couple in tow, surrounded by other peoples happy families, and boisterous children, killed me.

I was hoping that one of my friends was coming round this evening. No wait, I had arranged to see him, and he's let me down. Which is pretty much typical.
I am so sad though, and really could have done with a bit of company. Small hug. Gossip about something else.

something clean and sharp

I think about it, don't get me wrong
I know that it's crazy
But I think about it

I don't think about it to scare you
or threaten you
or make you feel bad

And I don't tell you because I want you to hurt either

I just crave it some times
when I can't get any other kind of release

I crave marks
just small cuts
sometimes patterns
on my ankles
and in hidden
out of the way places
around my body

I always sterilise first
and antiseptic afterward
I don't want to get sick
or anything like that

Sometimes I just want
to cut a small hole and let it all out

kitchen

two pieces of toast (with butter)
cheese (organic)
instant miso soup (the beetroot kind)

boys...

it's late
please
would you mind arguing about drugs less loudly?

for you

although you wont watch

I unwrap my hair
unpin it and let it fall

and count
8

two socks
baggy jeans
pink knix
black bra
red vest, wide straps
long sleeve top, cream
red sweater, fitted

plus blue belt
earrings
nose stud (doesn't count)

I take off my sweater
for you sweetness, and if you could look, you would see me
peel it off my ribs and get my hair tangled up with the neck hole

remove my tops
cream then red
and chuck them both in the wash basket

you can see my bra now, and through it,
if you're looking
and maybe you'll notice my earrings, hanging almost to my bare shoulders.

the earring go next,
left one first
leaving tiny holes besides the silver hoops
those stay, but you know that.

the jeans have to go too
it isn't easy to get that waistband past my hips
I can see how your face would be
watching the (faintly ludicrous) wiggle and stretch

I wish I'd put on better pants for you
but I didn't know you'd be coming along
so they're massive... and petal pink
I had to tie a knot in the side to keep them up
they come off next

now I match
black lacy bra with the socks
black
knee high
with a thin white line around the top,
just, here....

can you see what else I'm still wearing?
along here...up from there....
to my belly
do you like the fur sweetness?



what would you like babe?
it's all for you,
you know

musing on photography

My brother gave me a bunch of software. One bit is for data recovery-sort of.
He suggested that I install it and use it to rumage around my own computer, so I can get used to how it works. I did this and duly discovered all kinds of shit i had forgotten about. Photos are especially noticeable, because they are easily visible as you scroll through the junk, and I think that I've realised something.
I have hardly any photos of my current boyfriend.
I have pictures of my Ex, lots of them. I remember wanting pictures of him, thinking he was lovely, that I could just eat him up, it makes me smile to see them and remember nice times we had.

I have pictures of the guy I am currently 'not seeing', stashed in various places, they make me all squishy to look at. Warm, and naughty and filled with longing and dreams.... Make me want to sink my teeth in... Or snuggle up, variously....

But where are the pictures of my current beau? There are about three. Surely this cannot be right?
Don't I want to capture him? (not really)
Do I feel like I could stare at him all day?(not especially)
Do I want to eat him all up? (no)

Something is very wrong here.

On Addiction

Giving you up is hard. Really hard.
Giving up cigarettes, dope, even coke, was easy by comparison.
I want an IV of you directly into me.

Naive

It might not have ben a good idea to tell Anyone about this 'anonymous' blog.
I feel this mainly because now I can't spill my guts without worrying about who will see. Not random people, I don't mind that. But I would enjoy splurging and feeling better IF I wasn't afraid of hurting anyones feelings. It might not make very intresting reading, but I need to let go sometimes.
Everything is in such a tangle.

comfort reading

I'm still not feeling back to normal...
I am still under attack from the infection,
trying to look after myself and hope it doesn't take hold...
Really hope I'm not kidding myself.

As distraction I've been flicking through my brain-files
reading old stories;

This was one of my favourites
when I was small enough to need someone to read it to me
my poor mum must've known it off by heart...
I think I probably did too...

I am a mouse
My name is Deedee
I live under the old oak tree
at the bottom of the meadow....

I miss...

soundtrack: Sunna, I miss.

I miss being told things I don't know.
I miss having things I don't understand explained by someone who does.
I miss big words.
I miss submitting to someone who makes me feel held.
I miss feeling accepted.

I miss not feeling guilty about wanting all these things.

New Year's Eve

After feeling a bit off for a few days I started peeing blood and fire. I spent three and a half hours trying to find a doctor, and eventually, fighting on the phone with the 'NHS Direct' nurse who told me that it would be better if I just gave up and went to the Walk In Centre where a nurse would prescribe a three day course of Trimethoprim for me. This wouldn't, I pointed out, actually help and would therefore be not better than but exactly the same as nothing.
'Well' she says and starts huffily telling me the same things all over again. I'm knackered and hot and sore and feel as though I've been kicked in the stomach. I burst into tears. Here is where my boyfriend gets his credit, he took the phone off me and let her ramble on at him, eventually she says she'll have the Emergency Medical Centre call me. We're supposed to give them a few hours to call back, and if they don't we're to call back the NHS Direct persons (gritted teeth) again. Fortunately they call within half an hour and I speak to a doctor who is sensible, matter-of-fact, and very importantly, gentle with me. He asks if I've had a UTI before? Yes, I sniffle. Does it feel like this is another? (Could this be a doctor acknowledging that I know something about my own body?) Yes, I whimper. Then he asks me to hand the phone to the driver and proceeds to give my boyfriend directions whilst I run off to pee fire some more.
I come back from the bathroom to be informed that I have an appointment booked in about and hour and half. This gives me time to have a wash and is fine with me. My bloke assures me that he knows where we're going and how long it will take to get there. We leave late and fairly promptly get lost ("I thought you said you knew the way?" "Well I kind of do...") At this point I have my legs crossed and am clutching my hot water bottle.
When we find the centre we are only two minutes late, and I only have to wait two minutes to see the doctor, who is lovely. He listens patiently and is kind to me. Does the relevant tests, is happy to discuss the results with me. He checks what I'm allergic to and goes through the list of things he could prescribe for me. When he mentions Trimethoprim I exclaim "Oh no, not that please, it never works!" he says "Well there is an awful lot of resistance to it- between 30% and 50% of infections wont respond." I'll bet- that makes a lot of sense.
After getting a prescription for an uber antibiotic, that my doctor assures me will wipe out the infection but not me, we proceed to get lost on the way to the late night chemist even though the doctor gave the boyfriend directions. Not a good night for navigation it seems.
At the pharmacy I get my pills and bottle of water, paying for them through a slot in the window I am warned by the pharmacist that I must not take ibruprofen whilst I'm on this medication, and must drink plenty of water. "It might make you feel a bit...dizzy..." she says and giving my bloke a steely look disappears back into the depths of the store.

He takes me home and finally I settle on the sofa, and sure enough the antibiotic makes me feel very weird. Dizzy, flimsy, odd.
We go halves on a take-away cause I can't imagine standing up, never mind cooking.
I'm very woozy, but that's ok because he doesn't want to talk anyway, he wants to play with his new PSP toy. "It's not as though we've got anything to say to each other." Is he kidding? I can't actually tell.
Eventually I pass out. Even when he wakes me I can't get up. I lift my head and drop it again. He says "Well if you don't want to come with me, you can come by yourself" and goes to bed. Twenty minutes later he comes down and finds me sitting on the floor, having tried to come up I hadn't got very far...
He retrieves me from the floor and steers me upstairs. I need help going to the bathroom. He doesn't want to warm up my heat pad, but agrees to bring me a hot water bottle.

This is what I get for submitting to him.
Happy New Year.