Something borrowed, something blue

More than a year since.

Well.

Something new. One random event led to another, which led to another, which led to a friend of a friend telling me a story that had more impact on my heart than all of my friends combined. And i finally let go.

Three days later, a new door opened, and this time I walked through.

It's hard getting used to someone who doesn't criticise everything I do, who doesn't say my taste in music is crap, who doesn't tell me I need bigger this and smaller that, or tell me off for things out of my control.

My god, someone who likes who I am. Lady, he calls me.

Not used to this. Struggling, a little. Enjoying, a lot. Trying, hard, not to sabotage.

Something nice, for once.

I don't believe in second chances, yet tonight I was given the opportunity to correct what may have been a mistake.

In the end, the choice I was tempted to make would have been the mistake. I never liked saying no; in fact, it's a bit of a problem. I rarely say no to anyone, no matter how much it puts me out, yet I found myself saying no to a possible future, no to a path that may have brought a certain happiness and fulfillment to my life.

I finally committed a selfish act; one that leaves me alone, and wondering why I do the things I do, why I feel the way I feel. Yet I am in control, even if it is only to control my loneliness. I gave my heart away, and I have yet to desire its return; I am happier knowing it is in good hands, even if those hands never hold my own.

Loneliness is a state of mind. 'nuff said.

Eddy & the Cruiser

I was driving through the rain tonight. It was a long drive back from my friend's house, and with this virus I was zoning out a little, huddled as I was in my hood and scarf, with the heater on full blast. As I passed beneath the mammoth structures of the new freeway, amongst the tiny bullets of rain pelting down, I saw something flutter down towards me; a tiny, twirling thing, pushing its way through the manic suicide-dives of its fellow travellers.

The tiny thing was swept away from me as it got caught in the eddy of streaming air around my car, and, somewhat paradoxically, for a moment, time did not exist. It was beautiful, fragile, the potential for the moment was endless, inconsequential and exponential, all at once. I felt strong, and renewed, and reminded of the fact that there is magic all around me, at all times, even though more often than not I feel like it has left me for good.

I know this feeling won't last. I know tomorrow when I go back to work I'll feel the apathy tightening again. So I'm trying as hard as I can to hold onto that image. Trying to hold onto the idea that such feeling is readily accessible even to someone as cynical as myself.

In that moment, everything was Right. Every piece of my life was in its correct place, everything, no matter how painful or hard it has been, happened, is happening, for good reason, and no matter what the outcome is, it will be OK. I don't necessarily believe in destiny, except that which I create for myself, so I have to believe I'm creating the perfect future for myself.

If I live long enough, I guess we'll see how that works out.

All is fair in.... ah, what bullshit.

The shower does not hide the taste of salt on my cheeks; if anything, it is magnified, both on my tastebuds and in my head. The pain echoes off the tiles, bouncing back at me with tactical precision.

I won so many battles, but in the end, I lost the war.

A good General, however, never completely gives up all her options, nor does she give away her Top Secret Plans. Those are tucked safely away; give it a few years.

Because this particular piece of territory is too good to give up; let the rebels have it for a while, let them cover it in their communist slogans, let them destroy the infrastructure, deplete the gold reserves and ruin its natural beauty. I'll still be here waiting for when they get bored and move on to the next piece of land. In the meantime, I have other territories to conquer, other places to see. I will not be sitting on my laurels, I will not be curled up in my room moping, I will not be that person.

And if you don't like it, I'm sure my musket can take care of that for you. Pfffft.

and prejudice...

When I think of all the times I sat back and took the verbal crap that people said about me with a certain amount of dignity, I thought it was because I was the better person. I couldn't understand why I was such an easy target, but I let it slide.

Even I have my limits though, and tonight, I could see the finish line. I was far more angry than my company realised, and frankly, even if they did realise, they'd laugh it off because they probably wouldn't believe anything would come of it. Sometimes, though, it truly is the straw that breaks the camel's back - one seemingly insignificant comment in the tirade of attention-seeking words, that makes me look with different eyes, that makes me realise I have too much pride for this, that if things don't change, then maybe it's finally time to walk away.

It's hard when you know someone cares, but you still don't understand why they behave the way they do. Yet when it comes to choosing between someone that challenges you, or someone that acquiesces to everything you say or do, I know which one I choose.

So maybe it's time I became that person. The person they deserve to be with, or are expected to be with. Someone who has the confidence to tell you to fuck off when you need to be told. Someone who doesn't follow you around like a puppydog, who is strong enough to say that she'd rather sit at home watching a movie than sitting around with you. Who isn't selective about who she goes out of her way for.

Maybe you won't like that person, or recognise her in me, but I'm sure I can pull it off. If only because I have too much pride to let you be right in this moment, too much pride to let you win this battle. This little black duck has far too much at stake to let this go now.

I hate to resort to lyrics. But tonight is a no-brainer. And too much homework. And too much whisky. So fuck it. This works just as well.

These days you barely even say my name,
Like you don’t really feel the same,
I’m wondering what’s to blame,
These nights I fall asleep wondering where you are,
It feels like we’re falling apart,
And it’s only breaking my heart,
Cause if being with you means being alone,
And never knowing when you’re coming home,
Then I guess I’m better off on my own,

Chorus
But I can’t move on,
Cause that makes forgetting, forgetting everything we’ve had
Instead I keep coming, keep coming, I keep running back
Cause I keep forgetting, forgetting you treat me so bad
So I keep coming, keep coming, I keep running back
I keep coming back
I keep coming back
I keep coming back
I keep coming back

My friends say that I should leave you behind,
And stop wasting all my time,
They tell me that I am out of my mind,

But I know that what we both share is real,
And I’ve been willing to deal,
With the way that you’re making me feel,

Cause if being with you means being alone,
And never knowing when you’re coming home,
Then I guess I’m better off on my own,

Chorus
But I can’t move on,
Cause that makes me forgetting, forgetting everything we’ve had
Instead I keep coming, keep coming, I keep running back
Cause I keep forgetting, forgetting you treat me so bad
So I keep coming, keep coming, I keep running back
I keep coming back
I keep coming back
I keep coming back
I keep coming back

Hyde & Seek

Bella has had an interesting week. Bella likes to speak in third person, because sometimes she feels more like she is watching her life unfold, than living it, so bear with her.

Bella has learned a lot from the way people behave towards her. She has learned to recognise the signs, see beyond the pale, and figure out who people truly are (as opposed to what they pretend to be).

God help you if you try to get close to her now.

Words are strange, especially in a digital world. You may think they can mean anything; the truth is they mean *everything*. You cannot hide behind them here. What you choose to say, or not say, speaks more about the person you are than than anything else. Simply put, the fact that you can pick and choose the words you write, think carefully, delete, replace, means you only show a certain something about yourself - but there are phrases between the words, nuances upon the letters, and ripples beneath the waves.

You think I don't see it, but I do.

Woops, there goes the third person. I guess you can understand my meaning, now.