Saturday, 26 April 2014

Gandalf's Inhaler 15

You need to remember that the trigger is always on you, there is always someone aiming at you even without them realizing. 

That trigger is pulled and I know they haven’t missed, but I still happen to be alive even with blood seeping through my fingers, as I keep listening, sitting on the bed, the door locked as I keep both Julian and Matt outside and I wonder briefly where the fuck would Breana be and how is she even musing and living with all of this. I press my head harder against the door of the wardrobe, my fingers drumming as I keep listening, that the college should reveal everything and a few things are muttered which could be mentioned by them like my mental health, my break downs and my face drains. But it’s still not enough for them to kill me or my parents,

according to my parents I’m blind, I have faith in something superior, in some greater good, but it’s merely because I am doing what I believe is right,

I have too much food for thought, they tell me that it’s because I am here, slowly crawling back into uni, where I should be, that it’s what is letting all these left over demons take over me. I keep drumming harder, my jaw clenched as I get described as someone who will just collapse by the end of it and my mind keeps wandering far and forth.

They both say the same things and I wonder how did they even divorce when it so happens when I put them together, they seem the same, both with hatred not to be compared, because we are those who we hate

I’m just as stubborn as the wankers who told me that I’m a liar.

I’m just as stubborn as their beliefs that you should hold onto the biology teacher, his name not even worth to grace my mind, a long devil which I would fork and send to hell myself, but then even then he’d just fistfight the others. 

In the end I drop the phone, regret eating at my edges far too deep and I know that I’ve been shot but I don’t know by how many people and I keep walking out, my whole mind blank ever since I’ve sent off the complaint, a few days have passed and their reply coming back nearly as identical, now the strategy different from accusing me of lying, the blind belief in their abusive teachers and more memories spring to life, how people would exclaim about other’s sexuality, how some people should be degraded to their genitals and how it would still be discussed, how many things were thrown around the tables for the biology teacher to go red whenever I’d complain and then I would just go outside and I’d look at myself in a mirror, wondering if I am a living stereotype with my eyeliner.

I open the door.

I’m still stereotypical, we all are, we somehow fit into the labels, we will still be described as female, male (never touching anything non-binary, of course) and now we’ve thought of the new box where we fit gay men in with drag queens, which of course are all trans women, everyone is reduced just because for some reason we are not worth it. 

Julian is there with Matt and I still feel like I’m always unraveling a secret, as Julian had kept trying to follow me around, trying to apologize and saying how Matt had told him about me, how he just wants to be friends with me, how everyone is still closeted and that had caused me to stop.

He’s still an asshole. Both him and Matt. Julian smiled at me stopping, but I just resumed walking. 

My sleep schedule was getting far too messy and my days now in a haze, fear gripping at me as my father would call me far more frequently, telling me to stop because once it had tipped me over the edge, why I hadn’t attended one of the tests, because I was unconscious-

I kept going to Alex’s as he’d try to calm me down, as more memories would start fishing themselves out of me, microagressions I hadn’t noticed, the grades slowly going lower plainly because I couldn’t focus, I couldn’t understand why had my handwriting became an issue, why the teacher would avoid my gaze and would even bring up weird arguments just to say that I’m wrong during the lesson, they feel oddly fake, but they’re there, they’re there teaching more and more students, being abusive and maybe

even beating up more students, dragging them, no longer myself in the thought, I’m just another skull in the piles of death. 

“You don’t make a change. You can’t stop the mechanism.” The voice rings in my mind of my father, as I close my eyes recalling how I hadn’t held, fear taking over me, moments, it seemed after he had beaten me up. 

I had harmed myself further, words no longer being a metaphor. 

My own doubts flirting among themselves.

I try to get the ideas out of my head, the letter ringing, bringing to light the fact that I wasn’t on the prelim. I had sent evidence, not even opening the medical letters, Alex not asking anything. And the fact that it had been triggered was avoided with all the medical evidence and I was yanked out, pushed out and -

I should’ve told Al. Or maybe he had seen it.

There’s no evidence of it, no traces on my skin, because it seemed too daft and I had been too sad, just opening the entire blister and going to sleep, hoping that it would just make things better. I was just prescribed a different drug and that was it. I was pushed out and done the tests, the last tests which I had flunked officially, my mind might had been hazy, but I wrote everything, anxiety pumping me and seeing everything made me realize that it had just been him.

Their replies. 


When my diploma comes the next day, all life is a blur as I bang on Alex’s door. I had gotten it with all the numbers telling the truth and the grade, as said, something the college doesn’t want to look at. The perfect score next to a failed grade, just because they felt like it and I was passed out on the day of the prelim.

That’s their excuse for their bigotry.

I knock harder, wondering

I keep knocking and I walk in, the diploma in my hands.

I had sent the medical notes. I look at Alex. My whole mind is a fog, I’m not even in a field anymore, I’m the dead one, I had been yanked outside from death for some obscure reason where sometimes I’m even blind to love and life. I grab his shoulder as he keeps looking at it.

“I sent the medical notes, as well.” Alex just nods, still flicking through the pages, contradiction well plastered on his confused face. 

Life slips out of your fingers.

“I was unconscious at the time of the prelim. 

I had tried to kill myself.

Because I knew I wouldn’t get anywhere, because I knew that I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if he got away.”

Fear splits me open like an autopsy knife, the blade like a doctor determining my cause of death. Love seems to soothe me, being the one which numbs me as I look at Alex, horrified, as my mouth just opens and I try to speak but instead Alex just pulls me closer, far too tight that my ribs ache as he strokes my back harshly, perhaps trying to pull me back into reality.

“You sent them off?”

“I did.” He doesn’t touch the subject as he makes tea, even if I still see that blister and how everything had faded and how I had wanted to slip into a coma and die and at those moments, there is one little string pulling your pinkie, telling you to go on and my eyelids were still pulled open for some reason to live as I observe Alex and I wonder if anyone had ever told him how attractive he was even if he was unsure of himself, always shyly buttoning his coat, looking up, maybe thinking about his height, only now I shamelessly try to believe that I pollute his entire thoughts and being as I leave him for the night after one last kiss nearly every day, longing putting my body into the shredder even before I leave. 

Alex glances at me and we both know I want a change of topic, even if my parents words still dance in my head with the fear that I will be outed to them, but then what? What would happen then if I’m outed before I’m 18? And how will I afford to pay later on, how will I manage university life with no experience behind me, barely speaking to Matt and avoiding Breana at all costs.

She had approached me, asking how was I and calling Alex Mendel because it was the only thing she could recall from Biology from the top of her head and holding that nickname dear so that no one would find out, as Julian would walk by and wave at me. 

Matt would ask me who should he take to see the Arctic Monkey if he should take Julian or Breana and that just caused me to leave to see Alex sooner that night, when you look back when you await a reply, all life seems to be tinted gray, all of it swirling and twitching with fear and I’m guessing when you’re at war the further you get, the more used to it you get but also I’m scared of the fact that by the end I’d be happy of any outcome and my father saying that I’ll get ill from all the stress, not questioning my suicide attempt, yet it’s always on their eyes, their confusion why had I been assessed to be allowed outside, that I had been released after a few tests. 

It’s weird to realize that I’ve got memories without Al, when I had been sitting waiting for a prescription, just looking down at my shoes, not chewing nails, not fiddling with anything, head leaned back and eyes closed shut to numb out the imagery of white and soft colours mixing to give a medical feel. It’s weird to know that I’ve known myself longer than I’ve known Alex and it’s not even that it frightens me, it just makes me question

if we were meant to be, why don’t we come hand in hand

so that the pills were never popped

so that Julian would never appear with Matt when I was with them

so that Breana would never suffer
so that Ezra never had a shot with Alex

so that it wasn’t a drunk kiss which had started all

so that fate would start running it’s course earlier,

so that we’d watch each other grow with no razors against skin just because we never got accepted for who we are, because that’s the fear

that we won’t be accepted, that it won’t be us with the razor against the area above the elbow, that the scissors won’t be open to be used as a blade with rage and desire to rest seems to surpass the desire to live in a place

where you shouldn’t be because some fucker says so,

because you’re the one who they never became. 

The greatest fear when you’re alone regardless alone or not, is will it be you tipping yourself over or not, because by the end of the day you’re the one who got kicked out, not Alex or Matt or Breana, but you

Because you’re the one who got the cheek slashed for everyone to see that you’re a fag.


It's really hard to write this unfortunately due to the situation and the fact that this keeps trailing and I guess I just got fed up and I've been throwing in more and more information regarding my situation when it come to Miles' and it's just really hard and that's why I haven't written it, because I've been waiting and etc and yeah I was a bit off milex and obsessing over Jamie Hince XD but I'm here, I even wrote some You're Not Coming Back Again :D and of course I'm always writing To Miles :D 

Well, its been rough and I think one of the hardest things is that I have this belief that I should keep going on and just like Miles of course you have people telling you to stop because it drains you and people who encourage you to go on like Alex and in general Alex's role is pretty much how Callie is to me, it's impossible to go without someone's shoulder to hold on to, to shake you out when needed and yeah. I can't say I'm as gloomy as Miles right now, as mine has been going on for months and months and I kind of did a bit of a time shift to make sure me and Miles are on the same page.

So yeah, it's hard and yeah. 

I didn't overdose on my prelim, but GI has more of a physical theme, so I went on with it, but yeah I repressed on how I couldn't get out of bed due to my depression and mental state and yeah, guess what, the college doesn't care. I don't know, it fucked up so badly and nothing is happening I just get blamed, Miles gets blamed, no one can do anything and fuck I still go on and yes, it fucking bothers me because people still see the UK as something good. It's not, forget it, forget it. 

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it and yeah, I'll keep writing it don't worry XD I'm just scared that this is going nowhere so far and it's hard when you're pretty much the only complainer, when it's just you, Miles, and no one else reported this treatment. That's the thing.

Please feel free to request and thank you for the support and a small message would be appreciated of encouragement regarding the story and the situation I guess:)

Thank you



Thursday, 24 April 2014

PDD or Hypoxyphilia 2

Everyone seems to be talking about heartbreak and it’s mostly heterosexual, where the guy left for some obscure reason which I am usually not interested as everyone just sips their beverage and I just would look around, wondering when can I leave as I observe Alison. 
In the end you end up with females, anyway, regardless, something attracts you, maybe it’s the simplicity or being the asshole whispered as that ex who for some reason thought that leaving you and crying over someone who left for someone more feminine and that the granola bar will save you. I feel like I’m being dragged over. 
It’s not even that your sexuality is fluid, it’s your stupidity which is fluid. 
It’s the subconscious desire to please this whole belief that you might just be heterosexual after all, eyes closed, because when one gender fucks it up you flee to the other, cringing at all people from said gender which hurt you.
Yeah, you’ll drag yourself to a gay bar to see everyone who has lipstick or in drag resemble Brian, I’ll just leave, cocktail left and hyperventilate, out on the street, get myself in an alley, close my ears, crouch and pray for him to leave, stop watching me with not even existing in my reality.
People don’t talk about that heartbreak, where you’ll be seen as the asshole because you left the one who the media prefers, the one who will be crying in the granola bar, so every time I fucking see people passing that book around, I just wanna say
It’s you. It wasn’t him.
He shouldn’t have been with an idiot who thinks that the masculine crop was at fault, that will cry into the granola, 
You’re the one so full of yourself that you idolize shallowness and it keeps going around my head with the book hitting shelves and I just don’t ask Alex anything. I just watch it dissolve as millions of girls think that they should be shallow and do nothing. And that the boy will come.
And in some ways I end up being that boy and every time I see Alison mumble, I cringe. 
I am the person people cry over with granola bars because I just couldn’t stand someone who wanted me in a specific box and not care about what else is happening, to shut myself off and just exist.
It’s not even that-
The alarm clock brings everyone to life and it’s just a lazy queue to the bathroom, as some just blindly apply eyeliner and the smoke still in the air and the smell of beer and bottles rattling around as I wake. I choose to get dressed, not really bothered to be there on time, dressing up with a cigarette, holding small talk through the string of everyone’s hangover wondering how many faces will I forget tomorrow. It’s weird to catch yourself within the moment when you realize that all of this will be more faded and bleak as a photograph and at the moment I’m not sober enough to treasure my place in the queue. 
First love is an odd thing, the one which actually consumes you and when you have moments when you recall the person before you loved, when they looked average, just like Brian had, standing alone, slightly tugging on his scarf, eyes closed and lips dragging in the cigarette.
I had walked up to him, while he was smoking, plainly to bum a cigarette and he just stretched me one, confidence all stripped bare, leaving the soon to never be teenager in spite. 
I had barely stripped him bare from the dust in my memory to speak in the lightest way fondly and I had only spoken to Alison about him once, when he had been on and we had been pacing around the room, both of us chain smoking the same cigarettes passed around. He had seemed to be looking right ahead, head now shaved, eyes sunken with some old odd grief which I had seen when I was leaving him, still too much love held for himself. 
Alison just kept looking at the screen, my own fear of telling some distant past to make me cry more important than changing the channel, until he had admitted to drop his act of being fluid, feminine as he had put it, changing from one day to another, one month slightly alike the one six months ago and now he was all chucking it out, grinning, broken and daft.
I had just headed out and muttered a few things under my breath, Alison following and just understanding that I had hated his guts, never close to the fact that I had loved something Brian never was. 
Brian had smiled, watching me still in yesterday’s platforms which I had noticed had been new. 
The continuation of coming back pounces on you, like a sadistic snake which will never bite you, it trails after you, just because you think it does. 
Class had already started, but his eyes kept gleaming at me, hair chopped right where his neck would end and he seemed to grin at me, his features reminding me of some fox, which believes itself to be brave, yet just has something harming. 
“Have you ever been attracted to other men?” Brian raises his eyes, blowing smoke in my face, but the wind gets it the other way and I just smirk, as he just keeps his look, a light chuckle as he drags the cigarette in again. 
How does it feel to cut your essence?
I’ve been to hell and it was scary. 
It’s not even that the question baffles me, it’s more of being in a time where it’s wrong even if the stage is glittering with fairies and homosexuality being far more modern than the idea of rightness for nature’s mistakes.
Love destroys you, the wrong kind of love where you give yourself blindly, feeling that it’s fated to fail and it consumes you.
There’s too many descriptions of love with anxiety at the throat when the colour of the lover is long gone, but the image is still baffling your mind.
Love destroys you.
It just keeps shattering and you can’t come out being the same person, you’ll hate the person you had given, making it more personal than anything, some higher form of self-loathing which keeps trailing on and on. 
Knowing he’s watching you is something dissolving, it’s like a one-way mirror, you know they’re watching but you can’t see their expression regardless of how much you’ll pound against the damn thing and also the problem is that you just don’t pound anyway, everyone’s lips shut and the mirror still intact, because they’re the ones who put it there. 
It’s eerie knowing when you step on stage, knowing that he’ll be watching, different, skinnier, all the snake skin now shed, revealing the flesh underneath and you know there is a feeling of blind adoration otherwise Brian wouldn’t be here and I keep glancing at the blind crowd, my forever one-way mirror as I keep glancing at Alison, who has no idea.
Love shatters you.
No one tells you about the love which you have to leave, it’s always the girl who faked, a fucking groupie with no intentions only jumping from one man to another, believing in herself when she’s the blank silence on the other side. 
Love shatters hope.
I dye my hair, I grow it, I trim my nails, all actions continue being done and I am the one who also peels off the skin, just to avoid touch with myself, I want to detach myself from myself for going as love as blind as love. It’s a new form of self-loathing, loving someone ignorant
you don’t
the anxiety rises within, there is love for the void, the fact that you had loved someone they weren’t and it rides within you. anxiety, shredding, deadly
waking you up in the middle of the night, claustrophobia of open spaces, not feeling edges, because you’re getting better
but the cycle continues, creaking between despair and detachment. 
I look at the crowd.
Void, release me.
I don’t want you anymore and I don’t care if you do, because I’ve never loved the real you. 
You just caught me at the wrong time, when I didn’t know myself and you knew how to play with someone you admire, something you will never be, because you’re 
the void,
I don’t want anymore. 
Anyone, just not you. 
Maybe you’re not even a void anymore, you’re a line
which doesn’t cross my dots anymore. 
But I see you. 
And I just lower my eyes.
Maybe you are still the void.
I honestly don’t know.
All I know is that I’m no longer drowning, yanked out of water, as if we never dated, because we didn’t, I don’t know you without your skin,
I don’t know your death of nancy boy, because I know mine
It’s still me, just me.
With the void you won’t fill, because
my mind is blank, but trust me it’s more filled
than you will ever be
and your death of me
is all that describes you, Brian.
(Not to be confused with the void, my void is the absence of anyone).

Let go of me, my void. 

I won't deny that this ended up being more personal than it should've been explicitly, well, it is, so yeah, here we go.

I guess a huge inspiration or rather what had forced me to write was pretty much my anger towards everyone on tumblr sulking over some lost love and specifically Alexa Chung's IT has been ticking me off horridly and triggering me, because frankly I don't want someone with their shallow cringe views making the worse even more stereotypical and shallow than it is. So yeah, the whole idea that supposedly the victim is the one who gets dumped and well, no one really looks at why the fuck did the other person leave, exactly. I want to puke if I see any other heartbreaking quote from IT, I've grown so fucking sick of Alexa Chung's shallowness that I dropped all requests, sorry, you want heartbreak, fucking read this and proudly chew on your granola bar.

When I got dumped the first time for a girl with longer hair, what did I do?

I fucking went and chopped it all off and still have been with short hair because the person should love me for who I am, maybe that's why after the recent heartbreak I also accepted my male side finally and yeah. 

I think in general the theme of the story is fucking falling in love with an Alexa Chung, someone shallow and sometimes I feel terrible for implying that Brian is so, but this is fiction, so we'll see, but yeah, here's my anger and frustration and looks like Brian fucked it up badly with Jamie. 

You keep musing the break in your head, your void really. 

Also I'll see about Brian's identity as he has mused over it in the past, so we'll see and I guess I'm excited to have a non-binary character even if they're not the most positive, I mean, not all should be positive.

I think everything speaks for itself. 

People are wankers and I got ticked off because I'm not sure but I thought that my ex started following me again through some other blog so I got really ticked off and yeah, this happened, also the analogies with Brian's "death of nancy boy" is given because frankly Placebo is a redone Scarfo, so yeah.

Also the concert is in 2008 or so Brian went to see The Kills perform. 

Sometimes people just need to learn to fuck off.

I hope you enjoyed it and please tell me if you did, as I frankly love the story and I've been pouring my soul out and I guess all I could say about real heartbreak not some plastic white cis girl trash.



Monday, 21 April 2014

Bar Eyes 6

I wake up to feel a warm body, clothed besides me as I sit up, not bothering about my revealed chest as I turn to see a different shade of tousled brown hair and someone looking much older than me or Alex. A wave seems to hit me as I just sit there, observing the sleeping figure, scared to touch, yet even if my side of the body is pressed against his back. I wonder what I should do, so all I do is trace my fingers down his spine, down the gray t-shirt as I observe him with the mole on the left side of his nose, his eyelashes and it’s not that he looks familiar,

it’s more of knowing something odd about the person in front of you.

Jamie turns, in boots in my bed and he lightly opens his eyes just to close them, fear taking over and that’s when I hear something with the doorknob happen, it keeps turning in one direction and that’s when the man sits up and stares at me with dark green eyes. 

I don’t tremble. Jamie takes me by the chin.

Alex walks in and that’s when the man quickly glances at him, Alex with a bloody bat now and that’s when the man pulls me by the hair and digs his teeth into my neck, eyes closed, eyelashes brushing against me, as Alex drops the bat, a sudden pain going through my entire body. I push the man away as he just wipes the blood of his lips, as Jamie’s lips seem to be in lipstick now and I just hold my hand against my neck, letting the blood flow out, some other substance travelling, pumping through my veins as Alex just yanks the man and presses him against a wall.

“You’re not the one who bit Alison now.” And Jamie smirks. And before Alex gets a chance to hit him, he vanishes, waving at me, as the blood keeps flowing, drawing petals on the bed covers. Alex’s hands fall to his side, the bat also gone as I start coughing out blood. 

I feel myself choking as Alex just sits besides me, just staring ahead. It keeps getting out of me, vanishing as soon as it reaches the floor and he doesn’t even hold my hand, some invisble grudge against the other man and I feel the floor bending until I feel myself slowly swallow myself. Anxiety choking melancholy to make sure it doesn’t come back with any weapons at arm, letting itself be poison to the lack of blood in the stream. 

I feel myself being carried, something pressed against my throat, kisses far too airy and once I open my eyes I’m alone in the bed, with a sudden urge as the sky seems to be nearing purple with the end of the day. I just dress up and I start walking, getting a bus and just sulking downstairs, knowing where to go, where to await and knowing the misery which awaits me behind. First Buses seem like a dreadful choice, but Lothian don’t seem better as I just zip my hoodie, wondering and my mind dissolving, my neck stinging only lightly just reminding me of the existence of nothing. 

It’s not the fear of the unknown, it’s the fear of the well known. Alex had told me snippets of what was going to happen and going into the arms of someone who surely wasn’t going to harm you still seemed threatening. 

I float, I seem to be floating, insomnia now the night, as I keep going, feeling myself weaken, hardening in a state of eternal awakeness. I jump out of the bus, Edinburgh snoozing with me as I keep going, hood up for no reason as I walk on the heads of hung people, feeling death reach its fingers out before I open the shop to the damn vintage/second hand store with it’s bridal dresses, cowboy boots and army leather jackets to see death release me as Jamie lights a cigarette, he seems the same age, eyes just as tired as he watches me. A few customers are still in the shop and assistants still wearing last season’s clothing, nowhere close to vintage, but then maybe I’m the one confusing seasons as everyone watches me, as I just stand there before I start pretending to browse the kilts, as Jamie just walks off to a few girls, mutters something and disappears. Soon enough he comes back, wearing a fringe jacket and motions for me to follow him. 

I feel his tension as we walk on, on to Cowgate with it’s eerie streets going up, as you feel there is something else other than the Royal Mile and as we go, he just grabs me and pulls me closer, pressing his lips against my own, I feel his hunger and frustration but my love isn’t quite there.

He releases me. Now it’s my hair which is tussled and my mind which is messed with as I can see that it wasn’t him who had to bite me, but it had all supposed to be in reverse, with my own confusion as he says, as we walk on and he holds himself from holding my hand out of habit as I just wonder what could rearrange my mind. 

We all get our hearts broken, sometimes we know it sometimes we don’t at all. We don’t know the reason why people vanish or why they walk away or why they had worn the carnival mask just to reveal your greatest new enemy underneath and all of a sudden you don’t even hate yourself, your hate flees to hold onto that one love which you truly do not want.
Alex had vanished, died.
And he had told me of another man who had graced his life, took him in and he had just started the bar to avoid himself, the marks on his neck from that man.
I didn’t flinch as I’d listen, many many nights before as Alex would exhale the smoke and speak of the man who thought he’d stolen his heart.

Sometimes we don’t even know why we fall in love or why are we with the people we are, the people we pace with, that’s how I feel as me and Jamie just walk on and I guess it’s something we have done. As he goes on and explains about the dream parallel, something Alex had started explaining, his mind trailing off, intertwining with Miles as he had just left Alex alone and I wonder what would happen if I would show up on Miles’ doorstep if I knew where he lived up north, how would he look like, how short would his hair now be, how many buttons would be unbuttoned and how would it feel to see a different love through different eyes, how would it feel

“The point of a dream reality is that no time exists, that’s why Alex jumped in time, that’s why I jumped in time.” Jamie continues, cigarettes discarded as we head towards Leith for no reason, how the city dissolves now into the night and I wonder if me and him are slowly entering the dream sequence and why Leith, as we keep going and I wonder when will I see Alex. 

“The immortality you are granted as a vampire, is the one which you are handed with no time attached or included, see it as an absolute reality, where you always are and this is the show you are allowed to watch and get inspired by the death, the killing and the sex plays.” He smiles. 
Miles doesn’t look like Alex at all neither does he look into him. 

Sometimes the words in your head, they speak much louder than the actions, maybe that’s why paper is our friend as I look at Jamie, stepping in further, into the stars and the broken staircases, my hair getting length and something pulling me fast forward, something deep like forgotten and gained eternal love. 



The idea of sticking Jamie in was spontaneous and I had missed him far too much and it was more than obvious that the fucker would appear again, to be very very honest:) 

also it's a massive plot twist since the story we know is how Alex vanishes and Jamie proceeds to get bitten by Alison in the end, but he doesn't now. 

I was musing if this is the end, but I don't think so, it's just a sense of euphoria because Alison turns into a vampire and having Jamie, already loved by him enters the dream sequence, which has never really been explained properly in the whole course of this story until now. It has always been decided by me the meaning and etc of the dream sequence and I hope these chunks in the light and manner of Used Lighter are nostalgic and will be loved. I love Bar Eyes and I guess looking back it was my first polyamourous story as well, because Alison always loved both Jamie and Alex even if it takes her time. And in the end it doesn't matter who you love as look as you yourself are open to everyone and we are all queer I believe in one way or another. I dunno, I love people xD even if I'm gay, so yeah, go figure xD

It's funny how I kept musing over locations in Edinburgh here because regardless of my experience, I still love the city, because it's a lovely setting even if I hate its contents with my guts, I still recall Armstrong's the store which Jamie owns in the story and the bar which Alex owns. All of it became loved by me in the UL story. 

Miles was also the one who had bitten Alex and I thought that Alison'd visit him, but I like it this way.


And yeah, all is explained, all is written

and Alison is a vampire now

and I will be twenty in a few minutes

thank you



Wednesday, 16 April 2014


The fear of the next morning comes even before the morning strolls in to stroke the windows and I’m still with Miles, who is pretty much passed out and I had just nodded at Jamie, who had lit a cigarette and left, quickly glancing back and I had just snuck in, a key stolen from Miles for a while and everything was quiet besides the burn on my lips from the previous short kiss. Sexuality really slaps you, it doesn’t have to be everyone, it can only be that one person who yanks you out of the waters of your own misunderstanding and he had done so even if I didn’t even realize how attractive he was for a fair while. 

Maybe it’s my own break up with all my senses as I just sit in Miles’ arm chair and I wonder why didn’t he tell me about Ezra and if he does indeed wants to bend me over in two and I just feel like I’ve drank something sacred and I just take off the leather jacket, hearing Miles roll over closer to the wall and I take off my jeans and I wonder how obvious is it that I was attracted to men and how nothing had happened between me and Miles when even our own parents have decided to tell us it’s ok to come out, to which Miles came out and I didn’t.

Maybe the least obvious to you is actually what you are. 

It was really the question that I haven’t really been attracted to anyone, just strolling and watching Miles comment on different men and it so happened that, well, maybe not that it had so happened, maybe it does matter who those few people are, who do determine you. I still haven’t figured anything between Ezra and Miles and I just lay there, as Miles made weird noises and jerks. I never really saw anything about us sharing his big bed since he was a child and we would both get a kick of getting paint and actually colouring our bedrooms the same colours, which looking back, was pretty gay as well. 

I wonder quite a while until Miles himself wakes up and rubs his eyes, stretching, his shirt lifting itself up and there is nothing I haven’t seen and instead the image of Jamie stretching graces my mind and that’s when my entire being flushes, a new arousal, because people would pop in my head and would be gone by the end of the wanking session, everything sometimes far too bleak and I wonder how would it be to have his fingers wrapped around me.

“Where have you been, Dororthy? On the old yellow brick road? Found any more new friends to grace with-” Miles yawns until he snaps and leans against me, narrowing his eyes. “Since when the fuck do you smell of cigarette smoke?”

I try to ignore the Dorothy comment, as now I am no longer Dorothy, when I could be the one called with all these queers among me, in the end Miles is the child in braids and I’m perhaps a Scarecrow, just as queer as the rest, just bloody dumb to understand and was shallow enough to keep my Christmas present wrapped until Summer. 

I don’t look post-coital, but I surely feel that I’ve been bent over, my mouth closed not to be caught and the image keeps playing in my head, his teeth trailing down my neck, it’s not even fear, it’s fear of excitement, fear of finally breathing. Miles keeps narrowing his eyes even more, fringe now in his face.

“I went out.” Miles mutters for me to go on, pressing his lips together, the corner of his lips excited and curious, maybe just a bit jealous that I hadn’t dragged him out. My mind has a thunderstorm where I wonder if I should tell him about Jamie playing and how I had waiting for him and he just kissed me. There is no loss and I get scared that what if the sacred moment will flee my mind, but the kiss is still there, the small second where his lips touched mine playfully, my entire essence collapsing and how he had held me, metaphorically. I feel giggly. I still keep my silence.

“Who deflowered you-”

“Jamie kissed me-”

Are both said at the same time and I don’t know whose shock is harder at whose question or statement, as Miles just opens his mouth, raises his finger, then drops it and laughs lightly, a small bitterness reaching his voice. 

“Well, if he didn’t tell you, he surely wants to bend you over.” I see Jamie again in his dark attire, finishing the cigarette, the first traces of some odd jealousy without any possession. “I mean, you always want to be available for the person you really want, Alex.” 

My mind was more interested in how he had said my name, most likely to be dragged off when I’m far too sleepy and I just would have a lazy wank. 

“Jamie?” He pauses, some bitter happiness, strongly immersing. “Jamie Hince?”

I just nod, guilty and Miles just watches me, how I react, how I tense up, yet a smile plays upon my lips. Miles just stands up and I watch him, as he opens the curtains, to let the streetlights in. He motions me to follow him and we just exit silently with all the paintings both me and Miles have done over the years, having this wee obsession of both of us drawing and I feel terribly guilty, as Miles just keeps walking as we get to the kitchen and he starts boiling the kettle, leaning against the counter and I wonder if Jamie is passed out and I don’t know much about him and I’m scared that his secrets aren’t something I don’t want to hear of. All I know was that he was bullied and got chucked off for a while for getting into a fight later on with someone calling him gay and now he was back, Miles wouldn’t speak much of him, as his story seemed to have something else. 

Miles starts pouring the tea and I notice his shoulder shake lightly and he tries not to look at me. He starts musing outloud, though.

“...I guess it doesn’t really matter about sexuality.” He sighs, voice breaking. “It does boil down to if the person likes you or not... Funny, I’d tell myself it’s because you weren’t into other blokes. But I guess it does boil down to the blokes you’re into, rather than blokes.”

Miles just smiles and tries to shrug it off. I don’t know if I should continue the topic, but once the tea is poured and Miles gives me my mug and we head back, lights now turned on to reveal our embarrassing pajamas, Miles sits on the edge of the bed, taking a small sip, raising his eyebrows.

“So what happened? Did he fuck you?” I just blink, trying not to daze out and already feeling guilty, instead I just shake my head and maybe Miles realizes how stinging his jealousy is and he shifts to sit besides me and pats my shoulder, squeezing it afterwards.

“Alex, you’re queer, then!” He pauses. “I presume.”

I nod and he smiles, stretching on the bed, smiling to himself. 

I think the thing about friends is that usually people become friends out of a neccesity not to be lonely, when it came to me and Miles, it wasn’t that I didn’t want to be lonely again, it was more of a I liked being around him because he wouldn’t pester me from randomly taking out a notebook and writing poetry. 


It's interesting coz I'm also writing this other Jamie Hince story, which is called PDD or Hypoxyphilia which is pretty much about a doomed relationship, which is the opposite of this story as well, so I've kind of written for both today and depends on which mood that's where the idea gets chucked in xD

I started writing this in the plane all of a sudden, with this urge as I missed Alex and Jamie and I liked the whole idea and I kept discussing Jamie's backstory with Callie, so now I know and yeah, I had an idea for an ending but all be happy, as Callie prevented the catastrophe haha xD 

I think the line of the less obvious, because before you come out, well, at least to me and some other people, you really do cling onto your belief of being straight cis monogamous and yeah, and then you're not and it's a shock to yourself as well, a slap, as mentioned, a wake up call to be who you are. 

I was scared that what if this chapter isn't good as it just has dialogue between Miles and Alex, but the story does have milex in it, so yeah :P I'm I teasing?

(puts on Team Hincey shirt) 

Not obvious at all xD

Please tell me if you enjoyed it as I'm very excited about this story :O and request the next chapter :3


Sunday, 13 April 2014

Bar Eyes 5

I feel like I’ve gained a home. Alex forced me to try and find a job, but realized that I’m not there yet, I’m in mourning still, even if I’m home.

I try cooking and I end up burning everything, so that Alex always orders take away, he doesn’t eat, he just watches me and drinks someone’s blood by the end of the night. I think we get too many murders to be noticed, I honestly don’t know and Alex doesn’t care too much. He can move and that’s about it and his pub is pretty much... not noticed, but people still come here. I don’t know if the bodies come back alive, because they don’t look alive. 

I ask him that one day and he says he can just drink some blood and that’s about it, sometimes he kills, so there goes my theory that there are some dead people, but usually they’re so drunk that he jokes that the wives don’t want them back. I don’t know why wouldn’t you go drinking with whomever you are registered with for a while. 

I end up wondering about too many things in the night, but all I do is sleep while Alex works and the day is done by us walking around the city, wandering around all the closes and we end up wandering into a second hand store with wedding dresses on the ceilings.

The owners seem to be wearing the same old Topshop clothing. I keep checking on the leather jackets as Alex looks at some cowboy boots and soon enough we leave.

I dream of that place and I see Jamie there, smoking a cigarette asking me how I am and in the end of the dream Alex keeps banging on the door and Jamie pulls me deeper into the store, begging me to remember, but I have no idea, I’ve just seen him recently.

So that gives no reason for Alex to be jealous, but it still brings concern. Alex keeps dreaming of both of them punching each other’s noses up to the point that I drag Alex to Boots to buy some bandages, as he ends up healing sometimes, but sometimes he doesn’t.

We can’t drag him to a GP, so we just keep asking Boots personnel and saying that we’re tourists and that’s about it. 

Alex lies in bed, I tried to find whatever we did to the monopoly and I feel him hug me from behind.

“He tells me you’re in love with him. Jamie, I mean.” He says quietly and I turn to look at him. 

“I have no idea, who he is, he just comes in my dreams. I told you everything, really, Alex, I’m telling you. He keeps telling me how wherever he is, we’re dating, but I really don’t know.” I feel worried myself unless Jamie has hallucinations obviously or he simply found photos of me and glued them on the back of his cereal boxes. 

Alex takes my hand and kisses my wrist and I feel his teeth for a while, but it stops soon enough. He drops my hand.

“I’m sorry, I won’t do anything.” And he starts searching for his cigarettes. I grab him by his hands and soon enough we’re on each other again. I start taking off his shirt and his hands are stroking my back, pulling my jeans down and I keep breathing harder and harder.

We stop for a second to catch our own breath and grin.

I still feel guilty about the other man which somehow managed to wander into our lives and so does Alex for overreacting.

But soon enough our mouths are on each other again and I feel Alex teasing me by biting my neck. I start getting anxious and desperate as he starts licking my neck, pushing me onto the bed. I still feel something else among us.

I feel anxious.

He feels anxious.

We haven’t had sex yet.

Fuck, neither of us had even properly said I love you, even if it hangs upon the air, he still hasn’t bit me and the topic never wandered into that.

“Don’t leave me.” I don’t know who says it, I just feel his heavy breath on my stomach, kissing his way down as my hands grasp the bed covers tighter. “I won’t, if you won’t.”

And it feels like a deal is made.

Alex pulls down my underwear and I close my eyes as I feel his tongue and I arch my back in pleasure. He holds my hips down, turning me on by holding me and I watch him, how he gets turned on himself and he keeps licking me harder and teasing my entrance with his tongue and I just keep gasping, my thoughts scattering other than asking him to lick faster and I can’t even hear myself anymore as I grab his hair and I pull it as I come.

I start gasping louder as he keeps licking me as my orgasm last and I come again, before he pulls himself up and kisses me, stroking my cheek.

We keep kissing, before he stops and I see him flushed before I realize the big deal and I actually start laughing lightly.

“You didn’t buy condoms?” I smirk. 

“Fuck, course I did, more like...” He sighs, grinning at himself as well. “Try to picture me, buying condoms for the first fucking time in years and well, yeah, thinking if to take flavoured or not.”

He obviously mumbles the last bit, but I still promise myself to tease him about it and I can actually see him standing in Boots some day when I spent the morning sleeping, drooling over his side of the pillow as he stood there wondering if he had the guts and if it would lead to sex eventually. 

I don’t think I’ll ever replay the image in my head enough.

I wrap my legs around him and Alex pulls his underwear off.

“I’m rusty, I mean it.”

“I don’t fucking care.”

Alex just exhales grinning and pulls my bottom lip. I start ruffling his hair as we kiss deeper. It feels exciting and I try to push memories away from my head, away and I’m entangling my fingers in his hair, he looks lovely with it

and fuck.

He pushes away for a bit and I keep my eyes closed and when I open them I grin, as he just bites his bottom lip shyly as the foil is broken. 


There was going to be a sex scene but the next chapter popped up in my head, which is a massive plot twist and Callie has been asking me "why" every hour of today as I've written it nearly xD I've decided to keep this one as such and yeah :D enjoy your time while you can? xD

I still gave Alison the feeling of alienation towards everything besides your partner which I had and frankly still do, so yeah.

And the second-hand store! It's back! It's a lovely surreal place which was actually recommended by one of my creative writing teachers, actually on the same course I met Callie (she quit and I still snicker about it, since she chose a different course and then we re-met accidentally xD) and it's the same teacher which made me write poetry, so we should all love her haha xD she was awesome xD anyway, the store is amazing and yeah :3 

The condoms conversation was an image which came to me and I still smirk about xD

I hope you enjoyed it and if you did, please tell me :D so I will post the next chapter faster with a big unexpected even to me plot twist xD 



Thursday, 10 April 2014

To Miles 29

Anxiety dwells within me as the days seem to slowly come in and for once Miles actually sits besides me and I watch him for a bit, as he still avoids my eye and actually talks to Julian and Carlos and I just smile briefly before I look across the room to see Hince sit with Brian who seems to be talking of something and I recall how Jamie had muttered sleepily that he had a sweetheart back on shore and I had started feeling some odd guilt that I hadn’t sent off too many men and I could barely recall their names or their lips on my own as I would just try to get it over with and Jamie would just nod and they would get sent off. He would give a brief speech and it was odd how much I could now see through him, how I would quickly catch his eye but he would shift and I would smirk. 

Jamie still remained grumpy from while to while, forcing all of us to mop the deck as he would walk around and always when there was a check, I could see how he’d try to not keep his glance on me far too long and whenever we’d glance at each other too much I could see Miles who would start moping the same place and sometimes I wondered if it would get out of hand, when we were once on shore and they were taking photos of everyone and one of Hince and I had just stood there waiting for him as we would go onshore. He was told to make a serious face and I just stood there pressing my tongue against the cheek in a suggestive manner which made me hope that Jamie’s fuck off face would be printed later on, which I’d replace the photo of Jack with and that thought just registered in my head because I hadn’t replaced that photo with anyone and no one really seemed to be taking its place and I looked at Hince as the photographer would go away and Jamie smirked, punching me playfully and I had grabbed him, taking him by surprise and kissing him.

My head seemed to be spinning as I had made sure the door was locked, getting my hands under his shirt, running my hands down his back as he would rub his tongue against my own, both of grinding against each other. Jamie kept pulling me closer, lifting my shirt up as he started biting my neck as I would start taking off his jacket. 

We don’t stop kissing, knowing every fucking inch of each other’s uniform, where the buttons are, where to tug, where to just yank off and everything is done far too fast with grinding, both of us barely breaking the kiss, pulling each other closer until we stumble onto the bed, legs intertwined, hair tussled. 

Jamie pushes me down to go on top of me, breaking the kiss for a while to catch my eye as he slides a hand between us and starts stroking both of our cocks, Jamie biting his lip to hold a moan as I close my eyes and don’t hold tracing my hand down his back, pulling him closer back into the kiss. 

My other hand rubbing the back of his neck, tracing his shoulders, as our bodies keep rubbing and we both moan, as the strokes increase and I open my eyes, to feel both of us flushed, some odd deja vu as we keep kissing, biting, pulling, tugging, stroking, loving

and Jamie pulls my bottom lip a bit too harshly as we both shake and come, unravel, gasp, collapse on top of each other. Jamie kissing my neck softly, pulling me closer. I wrap my arms around my lover. 

“I love you.” Is pretty much the only thing I can say to see him give a tired, grateful smile, pressing his head against my shoulder, pressing a kiss before replying as he goes on top of me again. I see him trying to collect some words.

“I love you too.” He says after a brief laugh failing to find a better fitting answer and we both laugh at our lack of creativity.  

Miles was like the ghost I had started seeing and which had stopped haunting Jamie. Miles was like the bruise which we both had cut open, a piece of flesh torn out and the desire seems to shift between both me and Jamie, some dumb irony uniting all three of us, as the time would go on, shifting us, bringing us closer to Christmas, Matt’s letters coming now sooner, maybe some small treat from the mail before booze would hit us all. I sometimes would get paralyzed when I’d see him getting food in the canteen, not yet seated, just about to walk to the gunner’s usual table, when you’re in a state of mid air, the false assumptions come with hope and leave, mercilessly. 

We forgive our enemies too easily, letting them away and when it comes to the people we love we cling onto the light cut they gave us, while if enemies tear our hand off, we struggle and actually want to friend them with this odd desire of befriending everyone unless they angered us enough to be repressed with the years to come. 

I had asked Jamie and he had told me that by seeing him every day, the blade would null itself out, but sometimes he would linger in his mind and it seemed odd with snow nowhere on the land and Matt actually back at his parents’ and I wasn’t, that the port chosen was rather random, yet Jamie was excited saying that the cabaret was the best and that he had wanted to introduce me to an old friend of his, but Miles seemed to be triggering my thoughts as he had even started a conversation, he had seemed to always sneak into my thoughts and the kiss seemed to be a more venomous regret now.

I wondered if both me and Jamie were Miles’ two-sided blade. I wondered what would cross his mind and had I been filled with disastrous false hope. 

I had woken up earlier to leave earlier and to pester Jamie so I had headed to shave and shower, just to catch Jamie also up who had been shaving, who actually had far more facial hair than I would. Used to barely touching in public, Jamie smiled and quickly washed off the soap as I approached him and kissed the back of his neck. As if still asleep we briefly kissed before I had taken his soap and started applying it to my face, as Jamie just watched me before a sailor walked in, saluting Hince and he just nodded, quickly giving me a wink and heading off. 

Miles started coming in my dreams, his hands stroking my cheek and I would wake up with him nowhere near me, just the darkness reminding me of the illusion of time when you’re on a ship unless you get woken up or Jamie makes some announcement. I get anxious knowing that we’re about to hit shore and the fact that Jamie insisted on dragging me to a cabaret seems nerving for some reason as I’ve pretty much been sticking to gay bars, chewing on straws and wondering why hadn’t I chosen a different cocktail. Last time I’ve been to a cabaret had been with Paul who had wanted to see the dresses and had talked to the drag queen asking her how she had done her dress and we both sat, looking how the stitches went and how the sequins were done. 

It was odd to feel the ghost of a long lost lover and I just recall how I had felt when I had heard of them together, because I had always lived under the illusion that some men had never indeed touched each other, just like me and Matt and in the end it ended up that even me and Matt have touched each other and my cheeks flush as I finish cleaning myself and I just splash the water on my face one last time, anxious about my date onshore even if it was with someone I had managed to share love with. The anxiety seemed to follow me like a trail as I’d watch all of us dress for shore and I wondered what had been crossing through Miles’ mind and how we were all intertwined, how he started to become an irony of all us, a man who had held us all and let go, to let us shatter, only somehow some shards glued themselves together, maybe due to the fire nearby or their own. 

He’d ask me to come back.

He’d ask me to stop.

He’d get furious and come in my dreams, sometimes it would just be his words whispered in my ear which would drag me onto the mornings until Jamie would let me in and before even kissing I’d tell him of the dreams and he’d sit quietly, lighting a cigarette until he had stood up and opened his drawer, yanking out letters which he’d written to Miles, my eyes teary of fear of my own sanity, over the years which Miles had returned with his poetry filled with longing and drowning.

I just sat there, staring at the pile, all letters dated from more than ten years, all read many times, the envelopes old and hurt as Jamie’s eyes and I didn’t dare to ask him just like he didn’t ask about my own dreams. 

We were surrounded by the same man, losing a battle with more man power against someone who had

left us




and forcing to move on, because otherwise we’d be the ones on his side, rolling his dice and watching his jawline tense. 

Anxiety circles me and binds me as Jamie opens a letter, sending me back to the dream as I feel Miles’ hands around my neck, his desire to get rid of a former lover. He tightens his grip as Jamie reads the letter. 

Matt crosses my mind and my desire to talk of Matt brushes my cheek, from misery to worse. Anxiety is the leash they both pull and Jamie is the scissors against the ceiling until he reaches my neck and cuts the leather open and my neck. 


The story in general has a strong context of dreams and surreal visions and thoughts and I apologize for the short chapter but I really wanted to end and emphasize on the image of Jamie cutting the leashes around Alex's neck as it seemed very powerful and significant to the story and it is I think quite crucial further on as well. 

I actually realized that they have a mutual open relationship or polyamourous which wasn't even discussed which is interesting as I just had the thought now, but that's because they both started with partners or knowing that the other would sleep around (Alex). 

There's this specific photo of Hince in a jacket and he has this lightly irritated face and me and Callie kept discussing how Alex would be taking the piss as he'd wait to get his photo taken in the story. 

My dreams are odd as I feel to fortune tell or seem to sometimes dream of people of what their thoughts are and I actually had an odd moment with one of my exes as I had dreamt of their personal diary entry and I had asked them about it to puzzle them as they had such an entry, maybe I'll take that line to stick it in who knows xD I've been having a string of dreams about one of my exes and it's odd as there is no pattern just random things which are getting asked like to come back and etc, which is frankly uncomfortable, so I've decided to give Alex a bit of my dream fortune telling or rather ability to see what the fuck is going in the exes mind. 

And it's interesting how the title of the novel finally shows up in the oddest of ways, as Jamie's letters to Miles which he had returned, all and every single one of them. And it's interesting how the title has an ironic meaning, nostalgia, deja vu and parallel feelings being a massive background in the story, To Miles becoming an ironic title as he is both Alex's and Jamie's nearly former lover. 

I've spoken of the leash in the beginning, a fatal love is like drowning, lack of oxygen and when you're out, you get yanked out or a beloved just rips it open. 

I hope you enjoyed it and please tell me if you did as I'm quite anxious as usual xD I'm already writing the next chapter :D 

Thank you!



To Miles 30