Saturday, 30 May 2015

And it's a dull Monday 4

I have the naiveté of believing that people will become who I loved them for or the good things my mind didn’t repress, because if you even discard happy memories with bad people, what will you even have left? 

“Why do we still have exes as friends on Facebook but we don’t follow them on Instagram?”

“But some do.”

Karen chews on that.

“I wonder why do we pray that someone does the move.” And it’s as if we end up escaping everything with conversation as I end up sitting, legs against the wall on the floor, just a bit below the paintings I should be hanging off until tomorrow. Karen tries to open her mouth but I know that I’ll get the courage at some point to admit that you can get kicked out randomly and then have to couch surf, as I’d leave some boxes at Karen but with her family moving in her suddenly due to the war, she has no more place, so she apologizes, taking one box by the time we had packed everything and I end up knowing nothing. I don’t speak of Jack either even if it feels like reality had cracked, shards revealing his back and how he had felt once more underneath me. I close my eyes, as she leaves.

And I ended up hogging up the bar downstairs across the street, waiting for any reply on an apartment no matter how short notice and it ended up being harder not to think of Jack which was pinned below me and how it had felt to go entirely inside him again, as he was desperate, melting and groaning underneath me, making me sure that the past had still happened where after we had broken up I had no choice but to keep coming back to him and we ended up playing pool once when my tongue was entirely tied up and I couldn’t do anything besides stare and somehow speak. He had thought that I would burn out, I felt him barely asking about my photos at the time as I would just wonder how come he had managed to still to do furniture with his hands so easily and I had pinned them down last night.

No matter how happy or wealthy you might be at the moment things like love can slip out and apparently apartments, it’s like an allergy reminding that things nag and will take over for those brief hours of the day but it will be love which will need a transplant. I had still seen him for a few times, watching him cross the road with anyone and I could never forgive him because then I wouldn’t be able to tell myself that I can believe that I had never loved him or that his name wouldn’t cause the blood pressure to rise and the veins to swell up as if Jack had been holding me in his arms again, even if I couldn’t patch up anything and recall the soil of the last night, I could still lie. It’s sudden that all of a sudden you can’t stand the person anymore and I just doodle not even paying attention to the patterns and feeling the stubble try to break the skin on my fingers.

And with every letter the heart will ache more as if nothing had ever passed between the last moment I’ve thought of him, making time irrelevant and as fast slipping as sand through the fingers, showing where the stone was.

Why we don’t meet our exes or end up enstranding them from our lives becomes far too simply, because love never dies and at least in the moment where we block them from ourselves because there is no other way to kill love other than to starve it, because by the end of any addiction you need to extract it entirely from your life to actually live life the way it was before, going back to an old safe point knowing what had happened and what to avoid because the love battle is always the same. And you know you’ll lose. And that was what had made me crack, it wasn’t even that he mentioned any of our relationship, we had met one last time and I had blocked him, because it wasn’t even about not wanting him back, I knew he would never come back so I wanted to pretend that I had never loved him as if my whole life had been a lie and I could blur out his lovely face.

And life seems to be in misery which you can’t escape and leaves harshest traces of footsteps which trails into the night, reminding how empty the human shell is underneath all the flesh because by the end of the day our organs are removed and only the carcass is left, and how can we know when such thing starts walking by itself? We’re all blood and skin which somehow managed to speak in the darkest and sharpest fairytales as we’ve managed to think that killing each other is beneficial for no God, making ourselves a superficial fate without understanding religion to the core. 

Leaving someone is harsh because all the memories are yours and theirs and somehow now there’s two boxes with opened locks in each hand and to get anything out you’ve got to ruffle through all the tickets you’ve bought. I end up taking the seat outside, lighting a cigarette, regretting that I’ve shooed Karen off even if she promised to see me later. Meeting Jack is something I’ve decided that I wanted a bit more, because there’s a reason people try to never drink again after going sober. 

We didn’t talk after we both came even if after pulling out, I had never felt so relieved it felt as if I had never had sex before, staring at his back and the brief while as he glanced at me with full dark eyes and I could’ve told him that I loved him and that would’ve meant nothing at all. And I hoped that it would all be for the best for us to leave each other lone even if I could recall every hair through my fingers, that I could solely imagine him walking across the street, his hair longer with some bad goofy hat and his curls still intact no matter what age, that it would be us again and that it would be solely left as a desire.

Two cups of coffee changed nothing and it was odd to know where could things happen and I knew that I was looking out of the window too much. Cities are small after all when you want things to happen.

Growing up I had felt intimidated by straight cis sex because I didn’t want a role, I thought just penetrating was sad and depressed me. And the more I grew the more scared I became that I would end up getting forced into something and when Jack left it was as if I was back in my bedroom and I didn’t know what a world outside the walls was with plastic belief that everyone is straight and cis. 

And it gets scarier after I had broken up with Jack, realizing that I would never be able to feel the same comfort of knowing that I had found something else in my life and seeing his nervous chatter about his girlfriends not feeling comfortable that he had been gay once and even throwing comparisons that he was nothing like me.

The sky stopped dipping itself into the night, leaving confusion and a state of incubated vertigo was given. It ended up reminding of some utter calm sense as I was slowly realizing that I was nowhere close to getting anything and I barely had any friends over the years, even forgetting how people would do them and for the Facebook thing I had ended up travelling over a few countries because you end up burning money eventually, because sometimes you think depression can be cured with purchases and seeing them made me realize why I had left all those people again anyway. 

The sky tries to fade to black. 

I wonder why would we rather let someone else break us rather than ourselves as I find the courage to open Grindr again and message Jack if I can stay over since his whatever girlfriend or wife seemed to be gone last night. 

I wonder if the lakes are the ones which hide the colour of the night and how deep is it hidden for summer to bear.

“I could never imagine you cruising.”

“Neither. I suck at it. I don’t know when to even send a dick pic, let alone how to react to one. I usually end up talking about movies and they leave.” I smirk, feeling on the edge of the seat but relaxed as I hear his voice behind me as I had spent the past half an hour looking outside at the sky and Jack had even managed to order as I was taking a few photos of the rough trees sketching the faded night. 

“You still scored last night, though.” He smiles at me as he sits besides me and I try as harsher as I could without looking at him and it’s hard to feel Jack so close to me and even if before last night we hadn’t touched each other in years let alone hug it was just as painful as it had been before we stopped talking where it was a house of cards which I had wanted to fall, because it was so fragile but it had fallen on my turn instead causing me to turn around and leave Jack looking at the slowly falling cards, never looking at me as I had left. So how much do those people even think of you? How much do exes really think about you at all?

Where would one’s sexuality end then? And how fluid is it? How much can one slip under and what are the waters like and who bathes in them? And what does it even matter? And why does one sex confession seem enough fitting for even doubts to slip in? And why does sex even matter? And why can we never love at the right time? Why do we have to lose to love? And how long would it take to love oneself and let that oneself be loved by someone?


I go in phases where I frequently update or write more often some stories than other, sometimes writing a few chapters at a time specifically if the stories are shorter. 

Before I go on, I'd like to apologize deeply for not updating as I ended up moving (finally done moving now xD) and Callie's relatives were over and I'm never too thrilled of not being out for everyone's safety. That takes a big toll on me and Callie as well. But y'know you can't do anything about it. Also that gave me enough inspiration so don't worry that will be used. And I'll try to update something tomorrow since I've gone so long without updating. I also get rusty when I get out of my writing routine, since I barely had time to write there as I would have to wake so early I'd sleep every single bus/train/car ride. But it was good. It's also odd, I dunno why I reminiscent life so much. It's really odd to be "grown up" if you must. 

I had a few hundred words left to finish off today and now the sky doesn't go dark entirely so around 11 pm me and Callie headed outside and I wrote, realizing why I love living up north so much. So it's really beautiful and that kind of helped me to get back to writing much more and I used the whole change of scenery and outdoors which was taught to me ages back in Creative Writing really. 

I'm quite... brutal to my instagram for some reason although I've axed nearly everyone on Facebook who I wouldn't want to know I'm trans or who I think wouldn't be comfortable. 

Kind of living in Sweden you end up facing the fact that there is literally no apartments and people couch surf for even years (or a year) because it does get quite ugly and you've got scams on everything as well. So I never really addressed how hard it is to find apartments and that's kind of a small part of something daily I've experienced which I never addressed but talked about briefly maybe in Joyce, Joyce but that was it or in Blue/Jacket, so I kind of wanted to use that. Then I get scared what if I'm running out of ideas xD but not really it's actually something I hadn't written about.

Karen having relatives moving in was just talking about reality. I do make sure that nearly all of stories are set in our reality where war exists and is tearing down lives. I'm not going to sit quietly, I speak of it, I write of it. 
But we learn to live without thinking of it much, that's why I write this way. Because we still pack clothes, do work, but we never forget what's going on.

I remember when me and Callie were pretty much still keen on finding places in Stockholm there was a cafe which we would sit waiting for any openings and it would take us even far deep into the evening to get something even for a night. It was a nightmare, so that's what I had given Jamie here. And yeah, you take any chance you get then.

Since I kept playing with my memories I started having trouble because usually I write in a bus ride but now we live rather close to the centre so I just get like one song, so I mused on how to let my mind turn off entirely and write. I played pool with headphones with Callie and I ended up recalling that actually the first time I played pool when I wasn't like 5 was with that said ex which kind of has been on/off in these backstories. I haven't been able to practice English and I was terrified it would slip away from me like Spanish and he was talking to me in English and I just could barely pronounce words, it was awful, I forget languages when I move into places where I don't speak it. And we had played pool and kind of all the past and present pool playing inspired the scene. 

I think I kind of go deep enough on Jamie's feelings and nostalgia, love really. It's also a bit weird because I've never wanted a long lost ex like Jamie does. I really bury exes for good and also with the fact that they were all a bit mismatched because I didn't know my gender and sexuality, so yeah.

Also another inspiration or what I drew from was that frankly you still get a horrid sinking feeling in your chest if you meet an ex, as if it never goes away sometimes. But I remember I think the last time I had met my ex or second to last I had laughed later how desperate he had seemed because I wasn't really too keen on talking to him at the time. It's really weird to even discuss this because I've had so much kind of bottled up and now I see that all the pain dissolved and gone really, just a bit of sinking chest like any other painful memory. And I tend to talk of more recent events rather than I who I fancied in my pre-teens and dated in my early early teens.

Oh, also I forgot to mention while I was playing pool I pretty much dug out Smashing Pumpkins and Nirvana giving me a proper feel of what was it like to me then, since I used to be into Smashing Pumpkins when I was dating him and Nirvana was what got into after the break up so both those bands cover those two years for me, so it was really kind of going deeper into those feelings. Which explains why I'm listening to Ava Adore right now xD 

It's more about dysphoria when it comes to the cis het sex. I always felt rather... intimidated and scared that what was expected of me was to frankly lay on my back and get penetrated and that would be it. Or thinking that I would only penetrate makes me dysphoric, I don't want to be assigned to one role and it kind of freaks me out because it reminds me that I should've been shoved into a box which seems very restricting to me. So I guess that's my I'm so vocally vers because it kind of just like putting on a strap on eases dysphoria, so does bottoming if you must. Because when I was growing up those things really scared me and yeah. A lot of things scare me to death thinking that people want to shove me back into "female" again, like flowers or cooking, it's really... small ridiculous stuff but because they were so forced upon me they terribly scare me and I cannot approach them.

I finished the phrase before the sky because I got distracted like I said to describe the sky.

I get depressed, I get manic, so I do sometimes buy small things to make me feel better like even a box of tea. It works, but sometimes it doesn't and to those times that phrase was dedicated.

I get scared, I get terrified that people won't see me as male because online I still don't post too many photos and yeah so online I'm not as scared as I am IRL. So yeah. And I got happy that I was seen as male, that really made my day, I do "pass" rather often but on dysphoric days I get very insecure and that made me really happy.

I can't cruise. I can't ever keep up Grindr-esque conversations, so that's an ode to that. xD I suck, like I'm the worst.

Also Placebo had been a big part of those years and I had dropped listening to them for a good while because it had been painful then I got back into them, then Callie fell in love with them and yeah maybe I'll recall something but barely these days because I've really reclaimed Placebo for myself.

But obviously writing this backstory and listening to Pierrot the Clown is a weird experience right now xD it was my depressed about love song.

The sexuality paragraph was written then I put it to the WABB chapter and then shifted it back and finished it off for this story XD

I really liked the ending even if I had intended to finish it much earlier (before I realized that then the chapter would be microscopic) and I just left to head back home to warmth xD 

I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did and please tell me if you did, I'm always anxious about my Jack/Jamie stories since it's not the most popular pairing ever and I ship them fictionally with my soul



Saturday, 23 May 2015

Relationship Values 4

If we were back home, most likely as we’d have dinner we would play some cards, Jamie’s eyes glowing to see if luck would be on his side, as usual, and how he would laugh at the old saying that if you’re lucky in love, you’re bad at cards and they seemed to give out how we were going: when things got worse, then Jamie’s luck would increase, and now I wondered with both miseries on the side if the sole deck would win against us by not giving cards at all? Since the night would colour us both, draining the whisky until we would be reflected in our minds and holding each other, not even bothering to peak at the cards, as the mind was entirely in other orbs.

Pink trees among pines

Pink trees among lines

Was a poem he had told me once and I only presumed that he had written it for something and it didn’t go much beyond, as we had both discarded and taken off our dreams for a while, only for me to resume mine, as he decided to continue being a lawyer after all. It wasn’t the drift, I had known and he had known, he never changed, in the end the stability of having the same things had driven me wild along with questions I would’ve never answered on my own, with the price of sheer loneliness. I would’ve never regretted my life so much if I hadn’t left and would’ve seen how deep does a divorce go for two people. How does slow death affect one when the verdict is said by the doctor of life.

Streamers seem to tie up and follow up dreams, reminding of the things you’ve drank underneath them and how much you’ve changed if you look at the memory under the right angle to bleed out on the street. The imagery will be the same, because we all crave the same thing.

When it came to sorting photos, I wondered of the ones mom had given me, which were already stored with different faces and as age manages to make our lives less discreet the more evident it becomes that photos lie. We weren’t as miserable on our birthdays and I wonder in whose memories were we like that or was it the camera’s just like the celebrities and just like a dying cry, I wondered for a brief while why hadn’t I gotten so well along with Lana and how come the reasons were shallow against other families’ sheltered with abuse and verbal blood? And how many families had we destroyed by the sole fact that we couldn’t remember the faces which were in the photos and do we tell ourselves that they were happy when we see? What had been going under their skin and why had they all died and how come do all the tree roots remain on us, feeling the soil which dissolved into our skin and how come we are worthy of the ancestors we had wanted to see longer in our lives? 

Raising my eyes, I notice that he waits for me calmly before eating and no matter how angry you may be at a person, the small things which you had forgotten were done just not to be alone, like the fact that I always ate slower and started sometimes when the food was cold, would end with Jamie waiting for me. I pushed my hair behind my ear, before taking the fork and I briefly smiled to myself. Sometimes I wished all the photos of me would have Jamie instead of my sister, but you meet people later in life and they leave early as well, as if getting all of it topsy turvy even if it had been my fault and years later I decide to leave it, because I would never cope with him rejecting me, so a state of limbo becomes playful as the songs match the photos and we’re all gone. We won’t even be remembered by photos but I would want him in the last second of infinity which will be my last note, because his smile would be my camera’s memory because I couldn’t ask for more again. We use photos to tell people that they love us. And I wonder how the worst of mistakes can always be fixed with exes and people we wish we’d never talk to in our lives would come back, but the people who just drop dead suddenly that becomes something irreversible no matter how hard you try. I never understood ever since I was a child, how was it actually so that you could never see the dead again if crimes would be bypassed and people thought that the death penalty should be illegal. How could it be okay to kill people in wars but not those who made war with their own hands.

And I wondered whose life if I could would I destroy. Whose life would I kill, knowing that I would walk free after years because death penalty was no civil and it seemed as if an eye for an eye would never work. 

I wondered if life or death was the moon and how come photographs with the wrong emotions were left and how come we were all living and how much would we be tied up to society which deemed itself as some manipulative God where some lives were surely not allowed to be shot, while others were and how come people only cared of Americans these days and everyone else scattered was just meat. 

People say that life isn’t a movie and that would depress me as I was growing up with Lana who deemed to be utterly depressed and would end up trying to find meaning of life in anything which would numb her out and she would be passed out on the bed by seven even, before she could even get sad. Some people start judging the parents but by the end of the day we’re all strangers and just like you live with your neighbors in the building so it happens with the parents, that’s why splitting the will was nothing more than a rigged lottery ticket you were aware of because you would look nice like a winner on television.

Maybe two people is too much for one bowl when I can’t even find a spoon to eat. It’s impossible to speak of one lover to another, as I know that Jamie doesn’t speak much of himself, waiting for me to talk and I just wonder if mostly the attraction is non-verbal and so is our communication am I even doing a good job? And would he even stay over now to see how nothing changed since we had both moved out to live with him?

And I wondered what would even benefit to a routine as I would stay at home drawing and he would show up when he could. I wondered if I had wanted it again and how would I even feel with someone else in my life again and which solitude would I even want and if I could even give up the chance of being alone and believing in meeting someone else?

Was I just playing hard at admitting that nothing had changed at all? And how could I even tell him that? And if we can’t even converse, 

We split the bill,

I end up smoking outside again as he eventually decides to go to my house either way and it feels like a high school reunion only I would be wearing my prom dress since I always wear the same things as he even puts an arm around my shoulders, the action stinging both of closure and emphasis that we can share drinks without mixing cherry feelings. Maybe it ends up being a theatre with stage and no people. Maybe I am my own audience, refusing to believe any ratings and shutting down everything. We also walk in silence and I don’t know how to convince myself anymore as I watch him as he drives, the light brushing his face and he hasn’t aged and I feel like I’ve aged the world. I don’t stop watching, compensating two loves for one. 

Watching him sleep is the loneliest thing ever, as I had made the couch for him as he showered fast, thanking me and deciding that the sharp morning would be the wisest and I had sat in the kitchen for a while gazing at him, while sketching nothing in particular, because when you look at one asleep you’re forever closed down from their feelings and you just watch the door of someone’s life entirely closed and reminding


nothingleftatallwouldchangeitandyou’llneverbeagain. I bring my knees to my chest, holding the pencil with my mouth, doing a stroke through the painting of a person right through the core, digging deeper, wishing I could see my own blood to prove I am still living when I can no longer thread. 


I'm rather tired and I literally had 300 words left of this chapter xD I think I came up with the rounding up of it, don't worry xD it's far off. So I'll really keep silent. I'm awfully tired because Callie collapsed as I was having a blood test and I had to hold her down because she was restless and I ended up just acting out of "I can't let her stand up again otherwise she might hit something/I need to yank her back into consciousness". So I'm really tired after that and she split her head a bit on the back so I had to treat that too. She's all fine so yeah. So I'll try to wrap this up fast

So yeah I'm rather excited because I'll be addressing something I hadn't before so I'm happy. 

It's odd that it's been a month break but I've been writing this chapter rather long ago and editing things rather often. So yeah, it's also one of my most thought through stories and loved since it replaced (nearly) my hole after Poison the Rose and it kind of is obviously different but it addresses a more complex Alison/Lana relationship which I wanted, Jamie/Alison is addressed and Alison's gender will be later on.

Cards are here simply because me and Callie have been playing them far too much. I've talked about it in some other story I can't recall which one xD I think To Miles. Yeah xD I have that with cards actually, well used to which would indicate but maybe now I'm winning coz I'm a tad bit heartbroken xD but I kind of was for a long while with just Callie as my only partner so I love it as well so yeah. 

The pink among trees and etc was something I had written down because the trees looked pink while we were driving by on a bus. I am obsessed with bus rides and that's where I get my inspiration by listening to music and scenery. So that line was just written down and I decided that it fitted here.

The streamers would be one of the biggest imageries which I've been using and it's a nod to Poison the Rose. I kind of go deep on photos because I'm not to fond of how I look on photos frankly and there's like billions of photos of me where I am depressed and people or my family would treasure them because well I'm 5 and yeah, in a nice location but I look dead miserable and that kind of drains me as I look at them so I mused on that. So pretty much the photos you see of me on instagram are really me and Callie playing with light, filters and etc. I'm less flattering IRL xD and my make-up is much brighter. But I also get a kick of taking photos which aren't really just unflattering ones in a good location y'know. 

I eat really slow and in general I have anxiety and apparently different other disorders (diagnosed today, congratulate me xD all I knew plus panic disorder which I assumed. That also made me think should I even be proud what if I am too proud but I don't want to see it as something bad, it's who I am. So yeah. But I'll talk about mental health enough, don't worry :) By the way, I am very pro-self diagnosis because like a post I saw about it, like in Sweden it takes ages to get a doctor, medicine and diagnosis so it really helps you. It's not that I didn't want to be treated, I literally had to wait months and so do other people, you can't do that right away so if you're waiting until you can there is nothing wrong and would help you (but please research properly). So yeah, I can be a dick and say, yeah, I knew I had bipolar and I would ease the symptoms on guides I've read and they helped me. So yes, if you're in queue, if you can't afford it now, there is nothing stopping you from reading, asking around and doing certain exercises like breathing exercises, drinking tea for insomnia (herbal like camomile) and etc. And you're a dick for judging people if you've done so.) so speaking of eating so Callie slows down on her eating because I have so much trouble eating at times and I can take long. I do sometimes rather "ideal" partners if you must frankly because I get a lot of help from Callie who understands so I kind of give such small things in stories really. 

I was really lonely growing up and bullying and emotional abuse made me think that I would never find someone so I remember when I met Callie I was really sad that I didn't get to know her before, now that we've been together for 4.5 years there's a lot of memories and yeah, I'm sad that fate hadn't brought us earlier but we already met rather early (16 and 15) so yeah. So I wished I knew her and I used that here. I end up digging very old memories and feelings I wouldn't even recall before I wrote them down. I really end up writing with my mind and memories before I acknowledge them myself. 

I don't speak maybe on usual debate questions like my thoughts on death penalty. I kind of frankly forgot that people were heavily against it and that kind of arose to me when I was dating my ex, like I remember kind of talking about it to Callie a bit bewildered because I'm very pro-death penalty to be honest. I don't understand why wouldn't you kill someone who had killed 30 people for instance. I don't believe people can change in such cases. My stance is rather harsh if you must. But I kind of spoke it out here even if I'm sure Alison herself would be against death penalty, I think, since American liberals seem to be from the same mould anyway. Against death penalty but killing thousends of lives because who cares about non-Americans, right? 

I find it odd to write stories of a different spiritual stance but I can't make everyone with my stance, y'know? 

I saw a post on tumblr actually which was pretty much "your life is fugly, will never be a Coppola movie, will never have Joy Division as the soundtrack" and kind of reading it through was like... man, chill, what the fuck. Like maybe I'm a bit manic now, but like... life isn't bad and life is a movie. Have you seen other movies? Movies portray life, maybe if you stick to shitty cis het bull yeah, it won't be. 

I find it easier to describe jobs from home coz errr I freelance? xD So I kind of went heavy on that one thinking since Jamie is a lawyer here, since in my case both me and Callie freelance. 

I have depression and I'm not one to watch people in their sleep xD so I kind of mused on a bit on how it would be for Alison and there it was. 

I didn't know which word to choose so I ended up mumbling many because that's... what was in my head. XD I think I also had plenty references to IRL Lana and Alison.

I hope you enjoyed it and thank you so so much



Wednesday, 20 May 2015

What's Wrong? 3

Cities become dull and nothing blossoms in the spring anymore and the only bright thing left is dolls and discounts since the world has a dystopian wrapper. The sky no longer goes dark, decorating the sky with some hope and old dull stars we’ve all seen in our lives, the same eaten moths which bite holes as teachers would’ve explained to us. 

When I get too tired at night I’d take any night bus, pay the fee and drive around, not caring which neighborhood and wondering how come I seemed to have much more luck than anyone else every could, how come everything had been gone so fast and all was an erased memory this day as if nothing had gone wrong even if you could see the poverty and holding up the Daily Mail was more than a joke now. Horse meat seemed fine now. I wondered when I could come back. 

And the days become duller as I can’t even recall love. Even the magazines seemed duller, dying off like a dried flower which none could afford to even throw out. 

Colours were fading, yet I only seemed happier at work even if there were less customers, people would still stock up to make someone happier with the latest dolls and me and Daniel would do the stand again tomorrow with the newly received ones. 

“All heartaches become distant Christmas Carols.” I tell him as he passes the boxes filled with Gigi onto the shelves, as I keep putting them one after another, making way for the coming Ever After High dolls and I muse whether we should even change location again, then perhaps the board games would be seen better. 

“Everyone will break your heart, some sweeter, some weaker. Some will make you check on them, as if they were animals in a zoo, someone you want to see but never talk while others will make you want to flee

flee.” I had repeated the last word, like a poem, looking at him and I just felt shattered, spring was never fun. 

I don’t think I’ll ever understand how come things happen suddenly and why exactly one day does the traffic light change at some point and the days become hotter and the break is enough to get ice cream and see another woman across the road, eating a lolly already with two braids and cut-out shorts. 

“Would you say second best is good enough though, Daniel?” We sit near the counter, waiting for the kids to choose whatever lego sets are fit for someone’s birthday, as he just doodles on used checks. He looks back at me and I hold his gaze and curls back with a smile, wondering if we’d be boxed for each other forever then. 

“Yeah, I guess. I mean, if you can get the Cleo reissue, it’s still good, y’know... could be better than the first since it wasn’t fated.” He shrugs and I just pat his head, taking a check and sketching myself, wondering where would this said second love be.

I think the benefit of each city is that you can even learn one’s wardrobe from seeing them if it’s too small enough, like reading one magazine and another. Even a Vogue in hand will tell enough under a sunhat. I feel awful for always looking at her, wondering how would she be and I feel as anxious as presenting yourself to a beloved as talking to Daniel about her, before I could properly lay with him on the couch as we would watch reruns of Sex and the City with tons of candy and fizzy drinks. 

Daniel hadn’t dated anyone either. I didn’t raise it as he had took my hand to twirl to the theme song and I wondered how much we were all full of shit, refusing love as if it were so easy to find. But one thing is to babble, another is to act. So I just count the days I could be talking to her as I see her on the busstop the next day, still wearing yesterday’s clothes and I assume she took the night somewhere nearby. One night stand?


I think it's a bit of an unexciting ending kind of writing-wise XD but I wanted it there and that's where I stopped writing now xD I like kind of yanking out old stories which had been on hiatus and starting them again frankly. And it was kind of hard to pick up because the last chapter was written back when I had no idea what would happen with the UK and this story is still set in Edinburgh so yeah. But I'm keeping it because I still loved that city dearly and the toy store I imagined them working in was something I actually really loved and I got a wave 2 Lagoona there actually xD and I actually knew a guy who worked there and then shifted elsewhere. It's weird to know I've lost contact with so many people, that's why it's hard to pick up these stories because it's kind of realizing how much my life has changed and how I had never expected this ever.

It was hard to try and go back to the old writing style. I tried, I hope it's not annoying, I also ended up deciding on the plot since I hadn't before on this story and I'm really content with it, so yeah. Well, I decided on the Alison crush coz it's needed later on and she did a good fit (who is she XD)

I can't really describe Edinburgh without Callie's description and kind of knowing what's going on really. I didn't use night busses too often, but I used it here. Horse meat was a scandal back when I lived there so yeah xD I don't get the same kick from magazines as I used to, so yeah. I still buy the british Vogue from while to while, if Kate Moss is in it though xD 

I miss Sex and the City even if I've rewatched it very recently xD so yeah. To be honest this story was kind of intended to be short, it's not really wrapping up yet but I'm just keeping my mouth shut now not to spoil XD

I hope you enjoyed it as I've missed writing Interpol stories coz I love them and thank you so much



Sunday, 17 May 2015

We've all been broken. There is something in the polaroids we take of the ones we love. 5

Home becomes still a faint recollection of all shattered memories and all the confusion cushioned because there is no longer love to fight for, which I’ve had estranged in my hands and Brian which would keep coming, as I would only understand his feelings far too long further down the road, when Miles had raised it and when me and Brian had started dating or rather a bit before, when me and Brian started hanging out alone properly, as he would manage to yank me outside just to walk around as I wasn’t too bothered and flattered by the outside world, because I knew that it would hold nothing open for us, specifically for Brian who would get the harshest of questions which would leave him either spitting something back or actually getting depressed and I would just yank him somewhere for a drink. 

The realization that someone loves you back comes from properly looking at them for the very first time, when you glance up and he had been staring at me, smiling a bit sheepishly and downing more alcohol than I could in one gulp. 

It started to become like two ropes, my own confusion with Miles where we both ended up being stuck in each other’s corridors, never allowing ourselves to say anything to each other. 

And misery seems even more vibrant when alone, as I get back home, refusing any looks from Valentine as she kept going back, following me and I didn’t mind and all I could do was a quick hug to avoid the awkwardness and make her feel as if I wasn’t too rude. 

I didn’t even have her phone, even if I wanted to talk of my past with someone and I couldn’t get myself to call anyone, because I knew that everyone knew. 

Misery comes alone at all times, to keep the bloodiest of companies. 

Miles always ended up being the wrong time until I had come home one night and took an old stack of newspapers and magazines I was going to use as collages and I kept ripping them until the morning where I passed out, so that all the thinking which could be done, was done, because neither of us wanted to speak of it, as the feelings would flare up when we didn’t want to and when I would think of it clearly I just wanted Brian. 

I pick up the phone, wanting to call Brian and knowing where I trip every single time, to just open a few social media websites to barely see any activity and one photo of him and Stefan. Maybe it’s okay if they’re together. Maybe it’s okay to want him now.

“I’ll never be able to say, that I miss you in the most ridiculous of ways.” Brian had told me, smirking, as we had left the pub and wind was blowing his hair in his face, as I was looking for a lighter and then I just looked at him, still scared of not knowing his feelings even if he had trailed after me every day and became friends with Miles, that Miles even hinted that he got asked if we were an item, which I hadn’t considered properly at the time, enough to let the thoughts bleed out in conversation and Brian had pushed them out by that time, as he pushed the hair back, holding it from the wind and I had kissed him then, Brian nearly jumping but clutching onto me, tightly, sighing from sudden relief and it seemed to hold the taste of something permanent-

we had both lost

night after night.

Because only fools lose love and he knows that. I clutched tighter onto my phone, feeling immense desire from calling him or throwing the phone to see how does it feel to lose it, even if I know that it never eases the pain, cutting yourself, throwing things, all is surface and noise and I start presuming so is suicide. And nothing will stop me from knowing that I told him to leave because I don’t want him back, therefore I have killed my own life and I’m surprisedly gasping at what would happen now that I’m dead, as I replay old movies of my life as heaven goes away.

There was something in her softness, in her bleak lipstick across her lips and lost look, as she had seen the world across her nails from her eyelashes which turned night into day with an umbrella and some cliche sensitivity seemed to be clouded by her suit and I wondered how much she had glowed once taken off to turn off the day for today. And I mused on her for a while, solely because I was sure she would look gorgeous behind a frame with her birthmarks and lost knowledge to walk on. 

I wondered if I were just cliche or lonely for thinking on women and instead I dragged the bedcovers over my head, telling myself once you pay the bills and you know something, you’re great. And that’s when love gets to your head or the lack of it in an empty broken planetarium, which ended up being the nape of my room. I scribbled stars above the TV set and then wiped them off and I still eat noodles, staring as if they might show up, because if a miracle can happen so can the stars I had asked my dad as a child, before I knew that I had been an orphan with the yells of my parents stating how I would never find anything: nor love nor myself. Because I had become gay to them.

I wonder how long and intense the feeling of death would be.

“I barely write ideas down, sometimes I want them to either go away because there’s too many like a manic fuzz or I simply get scared of them.”

“Drink your medication, Jamie.” Miles mumbled sleepily into the phone, not hiding the fear of Alex not sleeping over tonight. And I feel like I’m holding his candle, when I know he’s no longer running and my own thoughts have been discarded, as I simply went under the kitchen counter, thinking of Alex and Miles. I lit a cigarette, knowing where we both were headed and my mind went astray for a brief moment and I wondered how much should I even talk about a single moment, when he had told me that he had loved me and I replied that I had loved him as well and it was as if that was all we had ever had to say and that was sufficient, to somehow behave as friends and that was it. And briefly, for that one moment which you’ve caught the shooting star in, it’s a reflection before you can see it in the soup of the sky. 

“There’s an odd Russian song, which goes about a man who lost his beloved and he goes asking different trees and other things, where did his beloved go.” I cough. “He doesn’t find her. He asks his best friend where is she, and the friend replied that she’s his wife now. When I was young I wouldn’t understand why people blamed the man for not marrying the beloved. I always blamed the friend.”

I click my tongue.

“I think I know why.”

He holds our silence. I know we should both put it to rest, because his silence is more bleak than colourful and somehow friends is sufficient because we’ll never have each other.

“Night, Miles, I’ll drink the meds.” And he goes to bed with Alex. “It’s still a beautiful song, even if the ending kills you.”

I always wondered why don’t the credits ever come, why whenever I would wish it the most, nothing would go on to be a perfect ever after even if me and Brian wouldn’t get back, I wanted an ending where I would be content from them on with no regrets, like the credits promised. And I wondered why couldn’t desire ever overlap and how I had started shaking, knowing that soon enough I’ll truly be left alone in some waltz of desire I would never have the courage with when it comes to Miles and how come confessing love ended up going nowhere and the same time it seemed like something comforting that it had been done. And confessing the void, that I had missed him how we had once lived and laughed at all misfortunes and I wish I wasn’t as worried and that we had done something at least once instead of having it repeat and unravel in the mind once again. I would never tell him that I love him again because I don’t want him to go through the wilderness again.

When a break up happens you’ll never know which one you’re mourning, is it the one before because the tears never dried up? And by the end of it who do we actually mourn, is it solely because we’re single and why is it so hard to dig up the love which has rooted so deep inside us that there is literally nothing else to tell or fortune tell? Are we truly miserable when we stop caring about the future since the past had been forgotten by all the stress and depression, making sure that no memories go through giving a false sense of amnesia so that possible we could manage to sleep somehow until the morning, dreams showing bright fabrics of things which hadn’t happened. And if you’ve never spoken about the relationship then you’ll surely not talk about the break up either and I wonder if I had even been in love then and maybe I should be focusing on the Miles then. I need to understand the difference and I pick up the phone again, I call him but his phone is off and I contemplate on calling Valentine because those who end up listening and actually replying are maybe the ones who should stay as long as you acknowledge that the rest has moved on and you’ve dug a grave for yourself in your yard when you were told you’ve got a hundred to live and you can buy anything you want for the rest of your life, because even if I’ll have the worst of days, there will be the yellow search for some reason until something starts working like medication. And then you’ll find yourself in others if my own reflection is not bright enough in the mirror to see when I take a photo.

But telling someone to be your friend is perhaps much more awful and desperate than breaking up, so even of the aspect of her being here I end up crawling to the kitchen to get wine, drinking before I can even count and send a text, feeling a rush which I’d usually tell myself that confidence gets me nowhere as I send a text. I think we only take back people we truly wanted but other than that we always want to smash our exes face but it takes a while to identify our feelings, it’s like doing a photo in a black room, it takes time to develop it, it takes time for the feelings to settle and know what face we have when we think of an ex. It’s rare that we want to hold them in our arms. 

If the person you’ve loved won’t love you back, why would someone else do?

Thinking of Brian makes it even worse, as he was pretty much the only boyfriend I’ve properly had through years with the loudest of arguments and even a few fights, but he’d always be there with his hand on my back, stroking and I had then known that he wouldn’t have left, but he did because I just ended up not standing anything

and if he were to return

would I welcome him with open arms as well? And had he forgotten? Was he also the one who moved on and I was left alone with wine and lying on the kitchen, sobbing that there was no one left? And Valentine replying to plain text of how was she seemed nothing that I even wanted to check until morning and when a thought gets planted in your head, that’s when you desert everything because you have hope that tomorrow will be better or that the minor dream death will be enough that not knowing yourself for a few hours will make you want to come back from fighting dragons and enormous spiders, because nothing changes and it becomes so because there is truly no other way.

And it had been odd to even think of two people, like Brian smoking outside, leaning over the balcony and pointing at a bicycle at 2 a.m. in the morning, causing him to smile. He told me that whenever he’d see some bloke riding off in the night, in a car, they were most likely on Grindr scoring a shag and seeing a bicycle under the rain had made both of us laugh and the next day on the same balcony I had told Miles, back when his hair was longer and he resembled some lost Beatles fan, the fringe slowly starting to cover his eyes that I nagged to him to let me cut it and he’d tell me to piss off. Maybe we have more than one love story because we fuck up oh so many, so it becomes like a game of monopoly you have too many chances to win and you end up fucking them all up to a nine year old you.


I'm rather tired and I've been awfully depressed so it had been harder for me to write and it was awfully anxious to kind of sit down and write properly a big chunk and binge, so yeah. I've been trying and yeah, I finished off this chapter and started the next (or will post the big chunk here, Callie is reading said chunk and I'm waiting for her expertise xD because I'm tired and it's a good chunk). I think the story kind of follows my usual dual thinking when it comes to love these days and it's odd because I'm a rather privative person and I might even speak more in stories and in backstories, so rather often I'd just take this story to kill my own feelings and I kind of really explore Miles/Jamie's platonic relationship and it's falling? It's not really falling, but kind of falling out and confusion because sometimes you just don't talk and that's what I wanted to address as Jamie/Miles kind of become the backstory to the universe (and speaking of all of this I feel like No. 1 Party Anthem which I think I'll do tomorrow xD I missed them too much but I had a bit left here and I was dying to finish it off xD) and it kind of comes a bit personal and I am harsh when it comes to things and kind of when you feel down I guess I do become thankful for the people which I've build friendships recently and they do mean a lot to me. But of course some become with blurred lines like where do they go, so I explore that really and it's been a recent theme in my stories. I think in general I've been kind of going deep on reconcilation again and what ifs in all ways really, because you don't always find someone at the first time right away. 

(Okay, it's been decided, the next chunk is for the next chapter so I'll keep my mouth shut on spoilers xD)

I think the blurred Miles and Brian kind of come from the sole belief that you fall in love with the same type of people or similiar ones since like looking back there's traits which obviously drag me to people so it kind of plays with that, like I have to think carefully which memory suits better Miles or Brian. But also kind of consider that they also blur a bit with Jamie's mental state and etc. Also, I'm very very flattered that this story is loved because it's such a melancholic loneliness anthem which is No. 1 Party Anthem's back story and backbone really. 

The hug scene like reading now and I think when I read it was inspired by actually a creep which was hitting on me years ago, he kept pestering me and I recall how he had just kept creeping me out by demanding why hadn't I texted back to which my mother stated why don't I use him since you can have a boyfriend and still have some blokes which you play with and I remember being so revolted and disgusted and that kind of left a memory on me, because on one side I had the said creep and kind of the female side I had someone who'd openly use them, so yeah. And the hug scene was because I had hugged him bye to piss off and I remember I got told I shouldn't have done it. Anyway, it was interesting.

When I get manic I actually rip paper into small pieces, so I had used that here. I kind of like talking of bipolar here openly.

The odd Russian song is actually something rather known, Callie had been either humming or singing it and I was just depressed and a bit heartbroken and I ended up writing about it. So yeah, you can check it out but when I was growing up I always loved it for it's story telling and I really summed up my feelings about it there.

I get very depressed and I just want the credits to roll because I want everything to be calm, some usual routine instead of roller coasters. 

To be honest, I've been awfully depressed and rereading it is rather heavy and portrays everything and more openly than I would in a backstory. 

I always think cars at night mean Grindr and I actually saw a bike guy so me and Callie joked on that.

I hope you enjoyed it and if you did, it means the world to me if you tell me that because I've been rather down and torn from reality

Thank you



Thursday, 14 May 2015

To Miles 52

What if I never loved Jack and it was all solely me loving someone I had no idea of, keeping a photo ad obsessing with the deceased that I would never talk again to. What if I loved him because I couldn’t anyone else?

Where do we step back to forget? And how long will it be until the thought gets so worn out that we cannot think anymore and why are there so many love and doubts which seem to be cutting deeper and deeper as the days end up tumbling, exposing us more to open thinking and soon enough I catch myself underwater, not wanting to hear of the war’s footsteps on our own and it feels like because we’ve had it once we can always have it again with the same family blood split again, maybe in more reincarnations but the rivers are tainted with far more flesh than water could ever grace it again.

And why do we always end up in mirrors, thinking that nothing ends without a purpose when all people go away and it’s never like a novel where it’s explained and we will never manage to yank the answer out of someone’s teeth if they ever loved us and it feels like a harsher itch on the back, as I shower in the morning, feeling far too reluctant to even do anything, still waiting for the full stories to emerge from Jamie’s mouth as the days and months start tumbling, driving with anxiety, as no one explains what love is and how it tastes besides one. But love is more than one person at times, so does that mean all of it else was false?

And how many ghosts will we encounter at every single night we will meet when we close our eyes, and how much more will we be detached from existing because I will never fit in my head, the blood of those who we have spilled and who we have never known because we all managed to end up existing within the same mind of killing?

Sometimes it’s easier to isolate than to love.

When all cards lay in front of you and you can smell the burnt wood, you’ll never be calm, because you don’t deserve peace upon your hands when others died and you’ve built your happiness on someone’s married bones. I think of Alison far too often and I think of Jamie, who tells me how indeed she had asked him to break up with me and I had my knees up to my chest, it was just new and fresh and because we hadn’t been together for that long, it felt odd to be around him and watch recognizing every aspect of his face, as if it was slowly dawning on me that I had been dating him. It seemed far away, how we had connected and how in some days you can end up counting all the stars in the sky, when people take centuries to even find the right sky.

And when you haven’t been loved in years, a day will seem bizarre. 

And we can make all people lovers, even for a brief moment in the mind.

The morning dazzles as the night goes by, allowing all cards to emerge from the waves and when you’re at sea for long you lose track of time and everything starts being more artificial from the March snow to the May storms which would come. Months don’t make sense as days stretch, stealing stars from the night and I become attracted to smoking on the deck far too much, Jamie joining me often, sometimes I would go alone after his, when the sun seems to know when to peak and the day has started, but I end up stealing a second morning for myself, where I rarely bump into a shaving Jamie, as he avoids all sailors equally and starts everything earlier with Brian and I wonder how long has it been a routine and my own jealousy of the time we don’t spend together properly only to rejoice at the heat of one’s touch later, as if it were to snow again in any place we’d walk.

The ship sometimes becomes so claustrophobic that you can’t seem to not know who is actually banging who and why and cards games start becoming awkward. Every night after a smoke if I head to the bathroom after Jamie’s I would end up on Julian by himself and the first time he had asked me what had I been doing and I lied on really bad insomnia. But the more war seemed to root in everyone’s veins it felt as if some had decided to abstain entirely while others seemed to have a sense of the world entirely crumbling with the Germans breaking through the Maginot line, giving them a harsher paint of victory and actual surreal belief that they would manage to go on, giving everyone else not even the ability to have nightmares any longer. It started becoming a ticking trojan horse which hadn’t even been placed at the territory of France, but managed to make it’s way through the harsh trenches. It felt as if no one would know anything besides a driven bewildered with blood nazi Germany. 

It seemed as if an old classmate who had sat in the back of the class, covered in yesterday’s wounds ended up doing a massacre you could only joke about and in the end the joke was surely not on us now, as we had all watched bodies we should’ve known lay around. It felt even more weird to sail seas which would be drenched in blood soon enough and no one would even dare to say what was going on, besides increasing the news supply and it’s as if we all had slowly started wondering how much would it be left for anyone of us and if we ever had a unity, how could we watch others die but we had killed ourselves within our system and I myself had two deaths of on my hands as when I’d kill a nazi, I’d be doing the same thing, so who do we become if we’d rather kill our own than actual villains? If I had once wished I wasn’t American, I wasn’t sure anymore where I wish I’d be. 

I wondered if Julian would have been my trojan horse, as we seemed to end up being the people who would talk yet had managed to make out briefly once and it’s as if we had placed a cast on something which wasn’t even broken or touched. So it seemed odd to lie to Julian and the more I looked the more I wondered what was wrong with the world which was okay with killing people from anything to homosexuality and why had it become so easy to hate and spill blood as if it were a apple to split open. And why had it become so easy, as if you could get the exact same apple at the stall?

I couldn’t tell him anything and he simply expressed his condolences about Miles, who had been going in and out of my mind, as Jamie picked up the recent height of sailors playing cards right after the last meal, everyone ending up either on money or any other goods, whatever anyone had decided to give up on. Julian always ended up on candy and our unit joined that hype. Jamie and Brian would rarely join and Jamie hadn’t been too good at it, so he ended up leaving the games with the sole excuse which had been seen as him being distant from all of us plebs. Brian would seldom join, a bit more often and would end up playing until late, Jamie clearing his throat that playtime was over. 

Jamie had asked me to practice with him, which didn’t turn out as well as I hadn’t been too good against Brian who was awful at explaining and would still make sure to win against Jamie rather than telling the tricks up his sleeve. In the end Jamie ended up being in the game by the past week or so, at least leaving as anyone else would regardless of luck. 

Julian seemed to hold his tongue but he seemed to watch me and him over as we had been the only ones left and I had only recalled that we barely talked, which ended up with Julian commenting on that and to which Jamie said that concentration is better than nervous chatter from any of us, since we would win a box of chocolate candy Julian himself had smuggled and Carlos’ lipstick which no one denied of getting.

Why do we even need other people and why do we happen to discard so many old lovers? How come they had never made the cut and how had we managed to end up letting them go? How come we can now cross paths and never say anything? And what about those we can never manage to find the courage to because we had tasted them once already and we were defeated because the galaxies in their mind were different with raised hands as they would float on the water. So was that all? Was it because we didn’t want to swim along and our desire to drown alone, to make sure that death would come calmly becoming the main phenomenon of the government in our eyes? So by the end of the day how many people had we needed? How come the closer you get the more scared you get? I could remember Miles’ fingers on my cheek, as he’d sleep next to me, entirely different from Jamie who would cling onto me in his sleep and we’d wake with numb arms. Was it that scared me that someone had found everything inside me after throwing me against the wall? And what had he even known then?

And I couldn’t speak about it to everyone and it felt embarrassing to speak of love so often because just like we don’t know how to fly, I don’t think we know how to love even if we’ve got wings already for the flight and the feathers glitter in the rain. 

Why does the next enemy become fear, fear of you not loving enough after you realize that they love you enough?

Meeting Julian again in the night, made me wonder as he just approached me as I headed to the cubicle, but instead Julian pressed his foot against the door, where I just nodded at him, wondering what was going through the sailor’s head. He fixed his hat, hands in pockets and soon enough he’d need a haircut, but I just looked back into his dark eyes. 

“Who are you fucking around, though?” He asks, as I look around as if the lover would show up somewhere and I quickly recall the bathroom fight between Miles and Jamie. I nearly shrug my shoulders, because I don’t know what to reply, but instead Julian catches up on my silence. “C’mon, Al, we’re friends. I know you and Miles broke up. He’s been mopping around, you’re getting laid apparently since you’re always glowing. At least share the good fuck. Which sailor is it? Is it the new mechanic?”

“No.” I quickly shake my head and I realize that the reply was as if I was confirming that it wasn’t indeed the mechanic, but somebody else. I shake my head again. “I have a lovely time jerking myself good. That good enough?”

I laugh, Julian still looks unmoved and keeps his boot on the door, then puts it down and jumps on the spot, pleading me to tell again. 

“C’mon, I know how to please myself, now leave me alone, I’d like some privacy.” I feel like anything sexual with Julian is like with a puppy these days, but instead he puts his hand on the door. 

“Turner, who are you fucking? C’mon, I won’t steal your boyfriend. C’mon, man, I’m your friend. Why aren’t you telling me?” He pouts and I just stare back at him, a bit square eyed knowing that Jamie’s friends know but none of mine do and for a moment my tongue itches to tell highly, but instead I keep quiet, shaking my head, smiling lightly. I hope I’m a convincing liar. I play up my relationship with Matt which is just half-baked letters these days. “I’m just happy I’m going somewhere with Matt, that’s all.”

That not only satisfies Julian, but as soon as I close the door, he yanks it open, excited to hear all about it. I don’t even know what to tell.

“Tell me, Al, c’mon, how is it?” And my cheeks flush lightly, as I lean against the wall, crossing my arms and I shrug my shoulders, instead he gives me a light punch and leaves his hand there. I look up and he’s in the door frame. I don’t say anything as he just does half a step closer. I try to break the silence.

“What about you and Carlos, though?” Julian just shrugs and looks down. 

“I think he’s a bit confused, because he never was interested in men, we’ve always been friends and then... it just happened we were on shore, just walking around and there was just no one in this park and we just went under a bridge and he grabbed me. Next thing I know I was thinking if I took enough cash for a hotel to be honest.” He confessed, taking his hand away, Julian’s eyes clouded by thoughts of Carlos as I seem to be pushing a suicidal person’s blood back into their system before they can cut again. “And he’s married, so... Typical. Do we all end up with married men? Miles dated some married guy, that didn’t work out. He doesn’t like talking of it even if he said it was a brief affair. I thought it was kind of hot, but then anything is hot if you’re fucking, but kind of...

Stops being so hot when it’s you and you can’t have the person forever.”

And then Julian looks out through the window and even if the deck is illuminated, we can still see that summer is breaking the nut shell of the sky, slowly reminding that if you try hard enough and go enough north we’d be bathing in a never-ending light dream. Julian keeps his eyes on it and I look at him, feeling that I had missed him as a friend, spending all my time with Jamie or trying to juggle through all the left over feelings and what else had been pounding in my head. 

“I hate summer hours. It’s as if there is no night and then you feel like one day just goes into the other, as if you couldn’t sleep anymore and it feels like you’re doing something wrong by going to sleep at this time...” He blinks a few times, rubbing his eyes. Maybe I did feel lonely without goofing around with him since even playing cards everyone had been far too tense and we had all just tried to forget everything, seeing Jamie go a bit loose made us more than aware that everything could crumble harder and harsher than the world had ever seen and we weren’t aware of it. 


Originally I was actually preparing myself to write a much longer chapter, but I liked the sudden ending, which is quite... striking and seemed fitting. Recently was 9th May which obviously made me think a lot because just like frankly everyone should (either 8th or 9th is depending on obviously how you should really celebrate it, 9th May should not be erased by anyone who had celebrated it as 9th before). And I had a very strong inner conflict because my first and only WWII novel speaks of the US, yeah, it started off as about the job and still is but it ended up flowing into something more bigger and I understand that I shouldn't be erasing the US' input but with the cold war ideology which is everywhere and awful things like the US saved the world from Nazism just revolts me since they're supporting and rooting it in many places. But it's hard to understand at times that what I write is before the whole cold war era and etc. These people are heroes, back in WWII we had heroes, it didn't matter who you were, you saved us, so yeah. But it's hard obviously. So that makes me uneasy. But I understand that I should differentiate and I do and it also is rather anti-US at the same time and was intended to be so, because the problem was no matter where you were it's awful to be gay. 

I actually love the ending of the Alex/Jack, it's rather harsh and bittersweet but I enjoy it. Jack isn't gone, he'll surely be around, but I like the conclusion to their story and I forget it but people really vanish entirely from your life and somehow you bury feelings. Also Alex/Jack was one of my favourite ships and surely was interesting to tell. 

I think I really ended up falling in love with everything about the story entirely. So kind of rereading to write the backstory I really made sure to speak everything as clear as I could. I was feeling claustrophobic and I used that for the scene. 

Also I think it's obvious that I'll be addressing Julian/Alex now, I was stuck on this odd place where I felt like I didn't know what to write and when that happens I just take really long bus rides and make sure to concentrate on thinking, that was something I started doing ages and ages, but I guess most noted when I started writing fanfiction back in the UK so yeah. But in general I'm awful if you're with me on transport, I barely talk because that's my plotting time and I always listen to music and write notes or chunks or think plots through. So I ended up doing notes for the next chapter of And It's A Dull Monday (which has been posted) and what's left before the actual end of part 1. Frankly there's just one arc which needs to close and a bit of another one but mainly I need to finish off one and to be honest it's also because part 1 ends on a specific historical chosen spot which me and Callie decided. I don't think I'll take a break from To Miles but I'll surely be... sulking for the end of part 1 but it's going to take a good while and after that it goes on and on, so yeah. 

I think I like cracking how to write different genres and etc and kind of writing about the Maginot line made me realize that I do entirely feel comfortable writing historical fiction even if it's harder when I go on events because I need to think how would people react and specifically how the fuck would Alex react. So that kind of made me realize that I could do more stuff and happily, so yeah. Neither do I want to close on WWII since I've always been fascinated by it and To Miles doesn't cover oh so many things and it's just me touching the US navy really. 

Me and Callie started viciously playing cards because she read that it really helps with bipolar and it had, so we've been doing that XD specifically games from my childhood to be honest since Callie took a liking after last year where we ended up playing with my relatives and she seemed amazed by my skills, so she tries to beat me. 

I love Carlos here. I love him too much.

I'm annoyed that the sky doesn't go entirely black at all now, so my frustration was written xD I'm sorry if this backstory was shorter, I literally binged through in a few sittings and I don't want to speak in spoilers and yeah

I kind of ended up setting up everything and I've been depressed so it's rather seen and I've been using that viciously. Also Alex missing Julian was kind of what I had earlier today which is a bit embarassing I guess coz I've been swamped with work I haven't even talked to anyone properly so I ended up having a missing friends void and I'm awful at talking, so even a hi makes my day xD so yeah

If you enjoyed it, please tell me so and I'll love you even more