Tuesday, 29 September 2015

No. 1 Party Anthem 7

I wonder if you can count all the stars if you keep your eyes closed enough, if you could miss all the pearls circling through the skies and somehow emit love. I still couldn’t bring myself down from the image of Alex lying besides me and it’s summer all of a sudden all over again, that we were lying and the sun was glistering, all the stars in the sky colouring them in clouds of sunflowers. I was there and he was there, just because I had confessed through rapid feelings. I had managed to get myself in a loop. It’s been so long that I didn’t know if I had felt the unrequited love or somehow something mutual. I didn’t know if his lips tasted disaster. I didn’t know how sour they tasted because I had always enjoyed sour things.

Life gives another taste as it comes, changing colours like a kaleidoscope, making sure you’ll never find yourself in it or the past. And somehow even with love you can still feel love, love somehow becomes not enough at the twists and ends of the night, as I sat with the window entirely open, feeling intoxicated by the night with no stars in sight as if everything was sucked out and insomnia was tonight’s soup of the day. It’s not like anything holds sense, because he had replied nothing and we had just shrugged everything under the rug, allowing as if entirely nothing for discussion even if I knew what we had done and what Alex had not said. I ended up not calling Jamie that night or having him over, just loitering around, doing nothing and somehow his presence seemed to remind me that something was wrong with myself.

But was it really wrong to confess of something I wasn’t even sure of at the time being? I just stuck my head outside even further, allowing myself to feel what cold really felt like. And I had no idea where life would be going, because when you freelance every single day becomes like a long rubber routine, going through the same thing and until that said party which I had been invited to, it was only me and Jamie and Brian hanging out. When Jamie and Brian would really get along I was entirely left alone to wallow in my feelings and realize how alone I had been. I had no ideas on how to meet new people besides a few which I had gathered here and there. Arielle was a friend of an acquaintance who I had met at some small gathering, suggesting that I should go and that had been it. That’s how far it had been to actually end up blistering myself in an English speaking crowd for once. That was pretty much all of the love story and just like I would have Jamie sit and tell me that sometimes he didn’t know how to survive the day, I just hoped that I wouldn’t get to that ending somehow.

When there’s no ideas how can a day even be bright?

I felt as if I was in an incubator, as if I couldn’t see anything even if the window was right in front of me and all I could feel was anxiety which was gripping. And it was far too late to even call Alex and I had no idea what we were even, where we were standing, what was I

What was I to him

Was I a shag gone wrong because it ended up scrambling forwards, allowing itself to blossom? Was that all I actually fucking was? What if I was now his breakfast? And I didn’t hold and lit a cigarette, allowing my body to lazily flop halfway out of the window, as if gripping on thin air to allow myself to feel the edge of falling into nothing which would be death, maybe I should’ve traded myself out not to have boredom, but then I should just go to church for such thoughts. And maybe then my night should be made.

I went to bed closing the night with all its curtains and thankful for a small but good apartment, my head going through the files of apartments both me and Jamie had shared starting from drug dealers, sharing houses with landlords and all the disasters that all had happened and somehow we all with enough faith end up in something which isn’t so bad, but until then the nightmares are just like non-cracked nuts: entirely useless.

The next morning I nearly slept through the whole day, seeing absolutely no meaning in holding it before heading outside and wandering through the main streets after a longer train ride with people who were filling up every spot like sardines and then I was glared at by some small girl for some reason, reminding me of school once the girls I had dated found out that I was actually into men, and just like my parents they had grown an extra head that day which had hated me. It’s hard to write in positive colours or even think of such things when the mood is grim. Only once I hit outside and the church struck six was it then that I wrote to Alex, chewing on some newly bought pick and mix, watermelon flavoured, that I was wondering how was he, and when would the next party be. That only allowed my mind to wander if I would ever have the guts to find a dark corner and please myself with Alex.

I wondered if I would ever have the guts to do anything among those lines and how would I even feel to have Arielle find out. I could still see Jamie complaining on the subject, but he would still grit his teeth through such things rather than speak them out loud, trying not to harm me as if we already had a very small thin line which we were balancing on and somehow even if we were standing on air, we had never fallen.

What if I had confessed my feelings to the wrong man? I wondered if Jamie would be walking around at this time, since he was always quite a keen walker and I wondered if I even had wanted to see him or if I had wanted to strike very lucky with Alex again. But then once you open a tap, the water comes out, so maybe I would strike lucky with Alex who knew? And what if he was the one? That was surely a story I would only tell once I grew up. I ended up wondering all the way into the old town, dodging all the tourists with their palette of languages as they all wondered, proud enough not to ask where they would be heading. Maybe it was time indeed to text Jamie as well. But I still managed not to do it.

Days are idle, days are boring and deadlines end up being hung around the ceiling like bats. I ended up waiting the whole day for Alex to reply and nothing had happened up to the point that I had decided to resend my text with no reply whatsoever and all what my mind could comfort me with was the fact that perhaps he would miraculously show up in my door, take off his jacket and I would jump on him, trailing my fingers down and down his body, feeling him ready. But neither did that happen, instead I ignored two of Jamie’s texts and it wasn’t at all like that was the first time that I had ignored him either or that he had ignored me. And it wasn’t like this was the first idle day of my life and it just felt like everything was crumbling.

But just like any morning, you wake up and somehow you’re okay. I woke up to the loud sound of pounding on the door, only it wasn’t morning any longer and it was well past into the day and I had all my deadlines met last night, so it just left with my day feeling like something to kill rather than anything else. I could barely even open my eyes, wishing that whoever it was would just find another way to knock elsewhere, regardless if they wanted me specifically or not. It seemed too early for Jamie, so the only person I could imagine was Alex and only that was the pure reason behind me waking up. Because Jamie would’ve eventually taken out his pair of keys and gotten himself something to drink, while waiting for me and then watched some trash telly, while I’d catch the last tears of avoiding the day.

It wasn’t even that I didn’t want to see Alex, it was that my body wasn’t producing the right sentences in my head, allowing me to chew on them properly since I had confessed and not gotten an answer. What if I didn’t get an answer not just because I didn’t deserve one, but specifically because it wasn’t meant to be.

Alex was properly dressed in his leather jacket, zipped up all the way reminding both of us of the weather, but it seemed like both of us were clutching to the ends of it and forcing softer coats upon our shoulders. Watching him through sleepy eyelids and pure fear was surely one of my least favourite experiences and I wondered how come we’ve gone so far from being a regular hookup to a more distinct and colourful one. I didn’t even know how I had barely managed to even keep conversations with people and now I had Alex in my door far more often in my mind than I would be hunting him down. And he was brighter than a kaleidoscope would’ve been. I knew that it was him, so I didn’t even bother to slip into jeans, allowing him in and I wondered if I had been some metaphor for vulnerability.

“Hey.” He had told me before I could even stomach anything, but instead my mind cluttered entirely, the songs spinning in my head forming nothing and becoming annoying noise. I felt like a kindergardener not knowing what could a meetup even mean, and of course he wasn’t talking. Instead he just headed inside and I felt as if the only thing I could do was simply manage some tea for him, but instead I just stood there rooted to the ground. I felt lost.

“Look-” I start but instead he kisses he hastily, before realizing what a chance he’s missing and places my lips upon his again and again, again and again, before opening my mouth and I open mine without properly realizing it, as if silencing me to tell that it’s all a big sex game and somehow the experimenting Alex keeps crawling further, as if addicted and I wonder if it’s even me he’s addicted to. I just pull him closer to me, feeling his hands go under my plain old t-shirt, pushing it up to reveal me. I feel myself breathing heavier and both of our eyes meet and I can see in his deep brown eyes that he doesn’t want to discuss it but they don’t tell me a thing if he’s thought about it properly and what has crossed his mind. I can’t help but wonder if he had a sleepless night and how come he hadn’t texted me and how far was he even pushing it. Where were we going, baby?

And I didn’t know where would I even stop with the questions-

As he just kissed my jaw,

What did my words mean to you?

As he kissed my neck,

Do you love me too?

And it all seemed like ecstasy, travelling down and forth my body, rocking me as I was already heavily breathing as he was soon enough on his knees, pulling my underwear down, exposing me right to him, as I was hard already. I bite my lip, cursing at myself silently, which Alex takes as pure sexual frustration rather than anything else, stroking my legs as he slowly licks the tip, closing his eyes, taking me in his mouth and that’s when I can only think of the questions and I feel myself so anxious that it turns me on even more. I try to think of something else as he sucks on me harshly, digging his nails into my skin, not allowing me a second breath. If I come and then start talking it would be more than unfair, but then he just takes even more in his mouth and I look down on him gagging. I push his head closer to me, pulling him by his hair as I hold his head still, thrusting deeper as I can feel him barely take me. I don’t hold and dissolve entirely, coming fast in his mouth, moaning out loud in the corridor.

Instantly after I do so, a wave of sadness washes over me as he coughs lightly, rubbing his neck, looking up at me, sheepishly now slumped on the floor with his jeans more than visibly tenting. I just go on top of him, kissing him hastily, feeling my taste in his mouth, a bit gross, but it doesn’t turn either of us off. I keep my eyes closed as I myself travel lower to suck him off. I think it’s a first where I feel more mechanical, knowing that if I were to have sex it’s better to have it now. I don’t even know if after I ask we will have more discussions? I know that it may be it for all I ever cared. The problem once you start speaking is that everything you might say can hurt a person in a way or another, it’s not even for some reason, it’s just because it happens. And that’s when a person falls out and you might never know if the person loved you back. It would make sense in a novel, as you read, thinking that surely the plot wasn’t closed, that the person will come back, but in real life, they never do and you can only be left guessing if they had ever loved you at all. And that is how it simply ends, with no knowledge and guessing and wondering how come one small phrase ended it all. Even just thinking it doesn’t make much sense.

So I go down on Alex, booming him nearly instantly knowing that all the frilly foreplay is much beyond him after blowing me. I get turned on again, but I don’t care, going on him slower and slower until he moans for me to go faster, but my head is still and already filled up with the fact that I need to find the energy and guts to even ask him what do I mean to the other young man. What was I to him and how come I didn’t even get a small reply on what was I doing when I had stated it. Why hadn’t he asked me anything at all? How come his lips were entirely tapped shut?

And he comes in my mouth, I cringe but swallow. Holding him down, as he moans even louder than I had, clutching onto my head, moans becoming softer as the orgasm eases and lets him go. He lays there, eyes closed, jacket still buttoned as if it’s cold in the apartment, pants just barely unzipped and slightly pulled down, looking entirely spent. Alex lays there for a while as I just go up and he throws his arms around me, pulling me closer to him, clutching as he regains his breath. We lay there for a while on the corridor rug, shoes a bit away from us. Then he pats me on the back.

“I’ve got to get going. I promised Arielle I wouldn’t be long.” He coughs lightly and I wonder if he had caught a cold. “She’s been very clingy these days, I can’t go anywhere at all, she thinks a couple should be doing absolutely everything together.”

“Well, she’s right-” I say, barely summoning to find the words, but then I realize that I should man up somehow, as if I was staring at my reflection and telling myself that the crying teen in eyeliner wasn’t me and never was. I felt as if no matter how much I tried to dress up and look, I would still look sloppy and somehow that I wouldn’t be able to finally manage to find the confidence the clothes would.

“Alex, we really need to talk” is what I say straight up, still clutching onto him on the said rug. He just looks at me confused. I wonder where does his confusion even come from as I can barely feel my arm from underneath him as we had decided to curl up like lovebirds. And now is his falling confusion which surprises me. He just untangles himself from my embrace, pushing himself a bit away from me, as if realizing what the topic of the discussion even is. It crosses my mind that Jamie would just judge me for all the sudden actions and wouldn’t have done this, possibly judging because he rarely falls in love. And I can see him smoking a cigarette as he rants and I wish I were with him instead because this with Alex is simply terrifying now.

“You never replied.” I just say simply and I know that it’s what the question he’s running away from sounds like and I know that’s what’s causing his sleepless nights if he had ever been graced by any in the past few days. And he looks at me like a deer in the headlights.

“Because there’s nothing to reply, Miles.” And I just sit up, look at him, as if struck and my mind goes entirely blank. It’s not like I hadn’t known that this is a mere hook-up which had gone more than wrong in all the ways, because it had. It had ended up cracking much earlier, allowing me to paint through all the cracks and believe that he had somehow found some love with me, when he was plainly just cheating on his girlfriend.


Prior to this story I wasn't too into the song No. 1 Party Anthem to be honest, but it inspired this story and it had stuck to it. Also I had a different idea for the title originally. 

Sorry I'm rather late, it's been a nightmare to write due to really bad anxiety and depression, so I'm really sorry. I'm really trying my best. I just get scared of everything and that it's not good enough, so if you could tell me that you liked it that would make it much easier. Thank you

It was a nightmare to write it because my mind was blank and I was pretty much going Nanowrimo style and binging on it for 1.5 k twice. I just felt like writing this story and nothing else besides anxiety could stop me xD 

I just went on to describe depression shamelessly to be honest and then that night I went to bed and I kind of thought of the whole scene with Alex and prayed that I wouldn't forget it until morning, thankfully I didn't. 

I added pick and mix just coz I really felt like it and I guess it comes from writing so much in Blue/Jacket with it.

I'm sorry for the short story but I really just binged through it, listening to everything from Marina to Radiohead to blues. I really tried my best to get it out and I'm sorry that it took so long and I'll hopefully won't struggle as much in the future, sorry I'm really not feeling well.

Thank you



Tuesday, 22 September 2015

We've all been broken. There is something in the polaroids we take of the ones we love. 7

I don’t sleep that night, spending too much time outside that I eventually get a cold and the throat pain keeps me up that I end up watching everything there is in the morning ranging from cooking shows to Dr. Phil, both are just as amusing and I wonder if this is how feeling ill feels like again and I recall an old conversation with Miles, as if I had broken up with him rather than Brian. It felt as if Miles was the cat I had given up all of a sudden, as if Miles had been the boyfriend all along and that kept circulating in my head, as if I was young again and hearing voices that one time and I had wondered what had that been. I woke up my parents by crying then, but now when you’re grown up and single again, there is no one to comfort at all, not even a cat.

I used to talk to mice but last time I rented an apartment with mice I had shooed them off. I had wondered now for the rest of the morning why had I done that and how come I was even left alone again and how come sometimes you know that it’s the end and sometimes you don’t. Thinking of such I wondered if the people or Brian who had tried desperately the previous times had some knowledge that it wasn’t over at all and that’s why he had tried. What about everyone else? Had they known that it was truly over or they had no idea at all that’s why they would try calling as if doing a Russian roulette if I would pick up since the number was now blocked. And how come looking back at Brian before we had moved in it was always a nightmare to call him, only now to realize and know from his mouth that Stefan wasn’t one to share so that explained the angry yelling at each other on the phone, trying to get Brian on. 

I don’t go to Arielle’s party that night and I wonder how much money does she even end up spending on booze, but I’m sure it’s somewhere close to my cheque as I head out from buying alcohol first thing after I exit the house with all the different coloured bottles and small price sings with no offer, the only propaganda being not to drink and unfriendliness in asking the ID as if you’re 12 again and buying cider. I don’t see the drill, as I walk out and that’s when I see Valentine again, nearly rushing into the store but then she stops.

Arielle’s party should have started by now and she just turns around and looks at me, first relived, then confused, assuming the bottles don’t look very party-esque and more of a party of one and she’s entirely right. She has her hair up today, in a messy way and her face is bare as usual, fresh and she manages to always look rather good with it, as I cut off any word from my vocabulary. We stand on the staircase, staring as if we were also lost lovers. I scratch my head, greeting her and she just goes down on the stairs. 

“Hey, Jamie, why aren’t you at the party?” She asks in her usual thick accent. Now we’re all watered down when we speak. It’s not even that she’s not there, it’s that we’re both not there, but I look far more guilty in less flattering clothes than her party dress. Then she waits a bit so that she gave me half a second to reply, before she adds. “Why aren’t you at the party with Miles?”

What do you do when you’re having a bad day?

What do you do when you’re feeling depressed?

Is such questions which I don’t even dare to utter. 

You always think you’re the one who reminisces, but everyone does and even in your own life’s choices and situations. I just keep looking at her bewildered with her bellbottom pants and how she manages to stick out of the crowd and I just shake it off, feeling a bit uncomfortable with how she sticks out of the crowd or rather for me she sticks out how even meeting her twice out of other circumstances makes me want to invite her anywhere, since I can’t seem to be with Miles even in the same room and maybe I should shake it up a bit, maybe I should be thinking outside of the box just like Alex had in his own way. I get a pinch of jealousy all of a sudden by thinking of Alex and Miles, so I just try to shake it off.

In her eyes I was still some lost ex of Miles or someone who had found their love unrequited, which was entirely truthful. I was indeed a lost ex which had no idea where to even go from here even if I wasn’t one to admit it fully to myself. She takes the chance, unlike me. 

“Is that an invitation?” She had laughed and I wonder how much is actually body language with our interactions and is it how we tell when someone even tips lightly? What if I had been lying to myself this whole time and is it even safe to keep the same label when you’re not sure and I never thought I would even question my sexuality again years later in my twenties again and the other way when it seemed far more than obvious as I was growing in my teenage years. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be at Arielle’s party?” I throw the question back at her, realizing that I’d prefer my questioning to myself at this point. She holds the same answer as I do, as if she’s supposed to mirror me again, as if there was something.

No one can ever take away the happiness you’ve felt whether it was staying at home instead of school, being the tallest in class at some point or sharing a bed with Miles, but none should ever hold you back from doing more happy things, just because some passed, doesn’t mean that more won’t come. And somehow I didn’t want to take anything lukewarm from myself either. And my mood seemed to be an odd puzzle where even looking back on my thoughts I wouldn’t understand my said happiness and what had strung it together, when Brian’s departure was doing a big gaping hole, not even that I missed Brian as much as I missed having anyone and life seemed dull, even while Miles had been there. It’s as if I couldn’t muddle up all my thoughts together again and I kept staring at her, refreshed from any human contact these days. Because slowly you realize what the benefits of an office are which are mainly the fact that you remain around people. 

Work becomes easy at time and that’s when you’re only slowly pushing yourself further when you go insane. 

“We ran out of alcohol already.” And I can only presume the party was started at an early hour for all of us to manage to get liquor in as much as possible for a quick refill. She still seems to be holding on her legs. Valentine had been coming in and out of my thoughts recently and that just seems to open a box of what does she expect and I feel myself confused and wrapped in a web of loneliness which demands at least a new close friend, since I ended up fucking it all up with Miles. Would I even want to be in a relationship with a woman as Valentine seems to be flirting with me? And all these thoughts managed to squeeze in the seconds before I could even open my mouth to speak up, but she interrupts me. Maybe I do look that miserable. “But I can join up your party of one and make it a two.”

I don’t know how to reply to her as I look at her baggy yet perfectly shaped clothing. I just shrug, possibly from the fact that I was taught to never refuse anyone under any circumstances because then you get lonely. And I had happened to be so lonely that my days glued together, crumbled and I hadn’t known what was even going on anymore. 

Desperation and adrenaline come from loneliness. 

“Great... Then more booze for us.” She says in her thick French accent, smiling and holding the alcohol bottles up that they clink for a bit. It’s decided to head over to mine’s because it’s not that much of a train ride and due to the overcrowded underground trains we remain silent, standing close to each other and she’s not that much shorter than I am. Valentine pretends to focus ahead, but I can’t help but wonder what goes on in her head and how much further has her thinking gone and if she had possibly labelled me as bisexual, which I never identified as or maybe there is some expression we all do before we decided that we are indeed into the person, so that the other doesn’t die in despair? Do we hope because we are actually given proper evidence? And it’s a complete other thing to see if the person will go with it, because attraction will never be denied that it existed towards you in the first place. 

I wondered how much hope she had and in the light of recent events how much did she indeed. It felt odd to even have her stand next to me as I solely felt drained and dropped into this as if into cold water. I couldn’t talk to her about Miles which was the one making my blood go insanely cold and freeze up all my thoughts as well. I wondered how much has she listened to everyone shipping me and Miles and my protests that we were never a couple, was that where the hope sprouted from? 

Is it even okay to think so often of one person when you’re not interested? But the somehow things don’t go as planned and maybe it’s all a consolation?

It felt as if I was having a crisis while we were riding the few stops and I tried not to even dare myself let wonder where I was even going with Valentine. I had too many ghosts of my past to even think about, which traced their fingers on my skin as I would sleep. 

Love will always make you delusional, that’s why it’s taken me so many years with Brian and now Miles was spinning a web of all my feelings and did I even want to go through everything once more? What’s the point of playing the same game all over and over again? If love is a game, how come we’re all so addicted and we just keep replaying? 
It becomes a more meaningless version of monopoly where we just gain nothing in the end. 

But then I think the thing is that people give up and we end up spinning from person to person, as if it’s all a bunch of dance partners. Maybe life is a waltz by the end of the day, at least love should be. I had managed to be in the same dance room as Brian for many years and we have both changed. While with Miles we would only touch hands at the end of each song and then change partners anyway. 

We arrived at the stop with people still waiting most likely until the last stop and we just exited and I felt awful for barely talking even if we both knew that alcohol would loosen both of our tongues. Before I could even speak, she got her phone out and just replied with a text, most likely warning them that someone else should get the alcohol and I just hoped they wouldn’t send Alex and Miles because they wouldn’t come back. 


I know it took me ages, I was too knackered and my mental health has been jumping up and down again. So I'm really sorry about that, but I've decided what I'm doing for Nano this year and I'll keep it under wraps for now. I'm awfully looking forward to it.

I wasn't really a tv person but recently my anxiety had been rather bad and I found that just leaving it as background noise it really helps me and that's pretty much what happens. I was ill and it was impossible to sleep and what helped me was watching telly as well (this is months ago since I write chapters rather slowly :) at times, specifically the longer ones). And when I was ill I ended up on Dr. Phil that's where it comes from really.

There's an interview where Jamie said he would talk to mice, that's where that's taken from (gee, how many interviews have I even read xD). 

There's a specific booze store in the centre of Stockholm which stuck out to me for this scene, specifically next to it there's a staircase and yeah, it's pretty much pretty in Stockholm if you must. 

This story is far more story telling than anything else even if I string feelings from here and there, so the backstory is mostly YES, I THOUGHT OF THIS XD 

You can clearly see where I am depressed and where I'm okay and one of those things is the happiness paragraph which is now deviant to me. 

Also this story is the flipcoing to No. 1 Party Anthem which Jamie starting to question his sexuality, in a way which Alex does in No. 1 Party Anthem, that's why I love them together so much. 

I like the ending because it has a sort of happy but sad to Jamie ending to it really. I hope you enjoyed it and if you did, please tell me so

Thank you



Thursday, 17 September 2015

Velvet Shadows

When you have depression you rewind life or rather life does it for you, you get rewired with some misery attached which keeps growing like a blood stain on a shirt, when the blood is coming from nowhere and doesn’t really soak the fingers. Every day seems as torturous as the last and soon enough the feeling of hunger just flies away and the fingers just seem to be doing something by themselves, just to keep the mind occupied and the ideas keep getting pinned down and down, some sense of urgency, that nothing is enough, that everything should be more and more sped up

that there’s not enough time

I keep strumming, harder and harder, 

slowly getting the words out of my mouth and I’m surprised by the choice of day as I look outside to quickly see a figure and as soon as I notice the short silhouette I feel the bed finally break, it’s legs give in and all of me, the guitar and the amp getting cushioned by the mattress as the figure disappears and I just look at the Jaguar in my hands. 

I end up pushing off the mattress out of the bed’s carcass and it starts seeming threatening for the back up to the point that I cut on the coffee, my fingers just strumming harder, words still not coming and everything becoming mumbo jumbo. My back slowly starts to give in as the bed once did and I see that I’ll need new pieces of wood if I need to mend it and everyone else is either on couches or beds all over the house. I don’t even want to ask and I keep myself to myself as I wait for the coffee to boil and she just watches me until I glance at her and then she goes back to peeping behind her notebook, I sigh, a bit frustrated but a ten year difference shows both on our interested and correlated interests. 

Depression feels chocking once you got outside and socializing becomes a necessity which the brain seems to brainwash itself with as if it would be the key to something and something as simple as getting ibuprofen for the back becomes an unsimple task even in a small Boots with teenagers near the makeup section and queues of people getting prescriptions.
There is also some nostalgia for the unknown.

It becomes odd when
I see that she’s infatuated, she watches me softly, slowly peeking from her notebook her hair trimmed entirely last night from black and blonde now a closer mud brown and her clothes baggy hiding her entirely with a bunch of necklaces around her neck and watchful brown eyes looking at me and quickly stashing the glowing curiosity hidden from me to see as I stir the coffee with one sugar spoon, the bitterness to drown my bones.
I groan making my way to the corridor as she peeks, watching me and I take the phone, tapping my pockets as I start dialing, the circled number in the phone book, which is now once opened with upholsterers. There is no need in a new bed and I cut out all the magazines unable to make a proper stack to hold half the bed.

I watch her and she watches me back. A few years younger she could be my Lolita if I was straight.

I glance back into one of the open bedrooms and I pull the phone with its cords and the book in the process just away from the girls eyes and I lock the door.
I slam myself against it. And I hear it keep dialing. The girl presses her ear against the door.


"Third man upholstery." I look at the circled number with ‘cunt owes me, bloody American’ on it. I clear my throat.

"You owe me." I can’t fake an American voice and I wonder who died in the bathtub that the stench comes with the bubbles.

"Excuse me?" The accent sounds from somewhere, I presume. I click my tongue and cross my arms.

"You owe me…" I look at the book. "Cunt."


"My bed broke, you wanker."

"Oh, shit! I’m sorry yeah, I’ll fix it, don’t worry Mr. Gallagher." What? Was that the guy who drowned, I look back as if I would see the bathtub hanging like a painting.

"How-" shit, I can’t ask how much. "Fix it."

And I drop the phone, my teeth chattering against my heart and the girl thumps back into her couch.
"FUCK!" I scream and I just head back up, my body shaking and day and night a cocktail I drink twice. I feel like my skeleton holds a void and the skin is a badly wrapped wrapper as soon as I’m stung and the girl is surely thinking of me. I exit the room and I try to make more noise, as if to remind of my living to myself as I head back to the destroyed bed and three piles of read books and a few scattered just to be stepped on and read.


I feel as if the girl standing outside is some metaphor of a sexuality deviant to me, yet required watching me and it feels even a bit irritating that another man’s desire is like a fish carrying an umbrella for my own lust. 

Misery is a lifelong companion with doubts.

It only gets worse and the tranquilizers get stronger until there is no way, even with the strongest addiction nothing works, not even the desire to be numbed about. I feel like shooing her off and banging the door, I don’t want to hear of her at the time, irritation fiddling with me, the long fingers threading through the hair, pulling more apart. 


I started writing this... I don't even know how long ago I've written this and hid it under wraps, before last year's Nanowrimo and this was what I had dropped when I got pissed at Alison last year and started writing An Ode. So here's the grand unveiling really xD 

This was based off how Jamie and Alison met and kind of making it a bit dystopic and I wanted Jack in. 

I dunno I always enjoyed listening to them talk about how they met and how Jamie had found her as a creepy stalker and that kind of always attracted me to write about it and I've written about it in different stories because frankly it's a pretty story and nice to fantasize about. 

If I'll recall correctly than the person who lived next door to Jamie and Alison who threw out all the recording gear due to their death was called something like Ian Gallagher so that's where the Gallagher part comes from. Also that Jamie had stated that he had some card and that inspired the scene as well. 

I hope you enjoyed it and sorry for the short backstory, but I really just went on with this story really:)

if you enjoyed it please tell me :3



Monday, 14 September 2015

shatter cosmos 3

I didn’t go right away to Elina’s, I ended up going to Brandon’s again and his boyfriend which had been called Matthew, chewing on gum, full of papers in hand to warn him of everything he had put everyone through and my own notes on what I should’ve even told the damn fucker.

When you’re in a state of bliss, a deja vu may occur and the door had been opened and I had to blink a few times, as my blood went entirely cold, seeing the world under a lighter background, as if a new theatre decoration and the man turned around to talk to Brandon and only then I noticed the features which were different, but he kept his eyes on me as Brandon whispered into his ear. The man was gorgeous and resembled a lost love, there was nothing else I could say or report, as I just stood staring even when Brandon spoke to me and I had managed to strike a proper conversation, somehow, explaining how Elina could still press charges for the moral problems and since they bought an apartment he’d have to get a lawyer, not a half-ass investigator like me, causing the man to laugh lightly and he knew he had my attention.

I would keep a firm watch on the dark, reddish hazel eyes colouring my cheeks as if I were a lost teenager again. 

And how else do you describe love and confusion at first sight if it doesn’t fuck you up? As I keep staring as if the brother were a long lost twin, with his long eye lashes and full lips?

And I still hold that I’ll talk to Elina and state everything I’ve seen even if I’m a private investigator and no one is behind me.

You’re never truly nostalgic because if you have depression you wouldn’t be happy there either. So maybe you’re better off here after all. You are happy because you can be yourself, but nostalgia is like an illness, devouring until you can’t breathe or manage to find some cure.

When I was growing up and even now, I’m still envious of the cis male body because mine falls greatly behind and growing up I would get annoyed at how trans men would celebrate how they were trans, a fair amount was solely stealth and didn’t understand the hype either and it was me, under those balloons wondering how come a sole top surgery was enough and how come the obsession of the vagina travelled onto us as well? I was never happy with it specifically outside of gender terms as well as it had brought fertility becoming a terrible nuisance with any of the boyfriends and knowing that I always had to make sure I wouldn’t get pregnant. The thought of having a child was something tearing me from the inside and reminding me that for society I was the body of a woman which should be giving birth and showing up from anywhere to ‘16 and pregnant’ to ‘50 and pregnant’ and the decision of cutting it all had been liberating and waking up finally without one that I would always dream that I would scream, that having a vagina was an awful bloody nightmare which resulted in terrible terrible complications. 

Like Mishima I would draw one and cross it out for the other reasons, which he’d never know because I never wanted one on myself. 

And under those balloons, I’d want to pop them and remind them that perhaps not everyone was happy with it and what mattered to them was that the brutality of one man’s bigger chest should be the only thing under discussion. I could generalize, but they could and the more I lived the worse it had gotten. Just like they would have dysphoria mainly solved with a flat chest, mine revolved around having a penis. I walk around the apartment, a bit annoyed at Matthew for even stashing Brandon in the first place and it feels like a bad episode of some rom com gone bad only there’s no laughing track to even facilitate the comedy. I end up walking to the book shelf, just flicking through books and catching the other man’s eye. I don’t even bother to introduce myself, allowing no more connections as all the case is solved and I’m out of here and neither should I be filling my head with nothing. 

“Was he the first man you ever loved?” 

“I think so.” I say, flicking through the book even dazzled that I would even speak of it to someone I didn’t know and have different revelations in any moment. Too many. It doesn’t even dawn on me that he’s asking as I flick through Ginsberg, giving Brandon enough time to even think, but it’s not a lie that you can always tell who is gay and who’s not. I wonder if life is always cliche and always the same. I wonder if by the end of it there is some recipe of disaster and when I was growing up I thought that we always end up falling in love with the same person. We’ll never admit about those which we had once loved. We’ll never admit the routine we miss. When I had came out as a queer woman before I knew that I was male, I then could forget about all the male lovers I’ve had and once I came out as who I am, that’s when all the regret had decided to come to me. And sometimes I find the present so draining that all I can do is think of the past, but I turn around to face Matthew. I just don’t know what else to add and I should really be figuring out what to do with Brandon now and allowing him to be eaten alive by his wife, Elina. I don’t even know how to react. I just play with my sleeve, Matthew realizing that he’s lost my interest and that most likely I won’t be playing with either of them. 

“I’ll be telling Elina tomorrow, so get everything... ready.” I glance at both of them, as I shake both of their hands, trying to forget about how Matthew tries to keep his eyes glued to my own, I have my own husband to go back to. I think we all think in movies too much as I glance at Matthew one last time. I try not to think of the deja vu and just excuse myself before I can even commit any mistakes, as my blood starts rushing. I just wander up and down the city centre, not allowing myself into church. I don’t even allow myself into the stores, it’s all as if I can’t hold and I want to be an anxious wreck forever. I end up forgetting that I had left the car next to Brandon’s so I have to head back and to some great card alliance I don’t meet any of them and I’m allowed to drive away.

I’d been waiting far too long on the document of Elijah’s workplace which made me wonder or rather let the back of my mind tingle if he even wanted to have children. I ended up chewing gum, driving off and parking in some neighborhood to sit there and just stare blankly, allow people to wonder who might I be waiting for. I had regretted for the first time in a long while that I had gone all the way, that perhaps I should’ve had children back when I had the chance. I never understood cis women who would get pregnant and then announce to their partner much later. I wonder if they had fear that the other partner wouldn’t but that never justified their move and I just felt disgusted for even thinking that, propping my legs against the wheel, hugging myself and wondering if it were wrong that I thought of a child so often. Or maybe it was just my fear speaking and Elijah would get that document, weeks on and love on.

Somehow it was always easy to let go.


I was very anxious about this chapter and very often what happens when I get writer's block about something it's because of some chunk which I write and I think that it's not good enough. I wasn't sure about the conversation between Matthew and Angelo, so that really struck me down for a good few weeks even and then I was talking about it to Callie and decided to step over my fear and with my whole latest obsession of writing when I feel uncomfortable.

I had a deja vu experience with a said bloke once and it was because he reminded me of the guy who got me into the Beatniks and everything really. So that's where the story is based from, or rather this line. I always thought I spoke about it in the other backstory, I recall talking about it anyway xD so I got this enormous deja vu for the second bloke because he looked at first glance like the first. And due to that I tried my best and failed xD well, you can't get everyone really xD

But I kind of collected myself rather fast and it was much later until I actually started trying out my luck, so that's why Angelo gets so cold really xD

I am rather open about it and I have terrible bottom dysphoria so I spoke about it because I really don't understand personally to myself how would I end on really one solution without the other (as in top surgery without bottom surgery) but it works differently for everyone so yeah:) and I'm sad that people don't speak a lot about bottom dysphoria so that's why I spoke out. Also my fertility had always been a huge nuisance. 

I kind of end up being very open on this story since I'm talking about a trans man here really:)

I hope you enjoyed it and sorry for the short backstory, thank you

tell me if you liked it



Thursday, 10 September 2015

What's Wrong? 6

I think in this day and age when we’re all more lonely and constantly reminded of it, it’s easier to meet people and make friends with those who you see every day. She mused the entire morning, looking out of the window, waiting for either her courage to come or my own. I tried to bombard my mind with something else and it wasn’t that hard considering that there were new Bratz dolls coming in today and we’d get to see them before the big reveal and all would be under wraps. 

Sometimes I have bad days when I can’t get out of the bed, I undress every single doll and I can’t force myself to redress them, that’s why I enjoy hearing about people’s coping mechanisms. It made me sure that I wasn’t alone, that somehow we had all shared the same demon within us. It was everything from walking, smoking or when I had called my grandmother it had been a tv show we had both watched when I was young. Listening to that made my realize how my years had ticked away and it seemed an odd deja vu spiral where I had started to ask myself-

but for the time being her reply had eased me, realizing that we all have our regrets. It eased me that somehow everyone else would break down in the same way that I would and there were millions of solutions to ease the same problem. 

I had ended up trying to summon the courage to tell that to Daniel. That everyone had their coping methods and as we had put the boxes for Boo York, that I had felt that the years had slipped through my fingers. Maybe I shouldn’t have given up so quickly with everything at all in life and what was it that I had missed? How did the cards go if I had stayed longer in education? How had the cards looked like if I had given any of my exes another chance? How had the cards looked like if I had approached the girl in the bus-

“Why don’t you approach her then?” And I can’t even recall properly what had I told him. I just blink, as the days had gone past and I had solely been terrified to even ask her about anything even if we’ve made eye contact and she had sometimes sat next to me, reading something every day or on the days when she would want to daze, she’d just listen to music. She seemed to match everything I had said I was done with girls about since my ex, but instead she twirled around with everything and that was like her throwing a bridal bouquet in my face and I had known, flowers falling around my hair, that I had never really given up on anyone,

besides a few people. 

The world crumbles like the rotten apple underneath my exes teeth if I see anyone who resembles on the sidewalks as I would wait for a bus, happy that the construction works are all long over, leaning as far as possible to see the world upside down.

Daniel had walked with me after work and I could see him stand next to the girl which resembled the said ex, until Daniel was left alone and I just kept looking at him, until my back started aching and he just sat next to me. 

Or maybe I had just always been shy these days, maybe I was just too scared of anything which could unravel, which could unfold. 

Daniel had decided to stay with me for the night and we had sat together, nearly opposite as we would flick through night time trash tv, nearly skipping two channels in a row. I had wondered what had happened to my feelings towards Daniel and where had they decided to hide. In the end we just walked on the balcony, escaping ourselves to smoke and I had wished that I had decided to turn on some music, just to give myself more nostalgia and regret, but then just like I had thought of talking to my grandmother, what ended up was that we all went through the same forgotten years until now, the scrapped knees in childhood and the eaten ice cream with parents was all something which was dearly missed, because all of a sudden the thought of being a grown up was terrifying even if I had been one for years, the freedom on the lips was tempting, then why was I wishing for a caged youth again? Was it because I had known now that everything is okay? Would it be different entirely knowing your future? 

I just went to sleep as soon as Daniel fell asleep on the couch, after telling me that I should somehow get the courage and talk to her. In the morning we had both eaten breakfast very slowly, barely talking but we had caught staring at each other. And I just think that my feelings were tucked in the morning’s sun. 


I struggled again with writing and when I was writing Bar Eyes a few days ago, it dawned on me that the writing which I missed, the clunky surreal one was done under pure force and with depressing music on, so I had done the same with this chapter of What's Wrong?. 

I just am not one to say, yeah, I was good and now I feel like utter crap at times and due to that I feel awful and that's why I push back stories, but I'm really trying to stay on track now, so yeah, even if I'm a day late. I've also been pondering on Nanowrimo, but that's for me to reveal later xD unless I get pestered then I'll crack :)

I went really open on the subjects of making friends which I'm heavily struggling with, as I only talk to people online and IRL I've been a mess because I have no idea how these days, nostalgia and just trying to understand everything, depression or a weird state of it, I touch starting new relationships here but to be honest I don't have any new ones xD

I had seen on my tumblr dash someone who reminded me of my ex, so I spoke on seeing someone who resembles exes, so yeah.

I hope you enjoyed it and thank you

Please tell me if you enjoyed it, because I get to be an anxious wreck and I would love to hear that you liked it



Sunday, 6 September 2015

Bar Eyes 9

“You can become God with the right tickets.” Alex says, taking off his top hat and catching stars as he stands on the top of the ladder. “Such as the lottery. Sometimes the rarest things which you can buy can come back.”

And he had thrown his hat at Jamie. I could see him with the golden ticket in his hand and buying off said shop and apparently the apartment, but I assumed it wasn’t such a big sum but enough to be real when you couldn’t be God yet. I wondered if nay of us could ever be God and if God weren’t the one who created all of this, maybe we would be with our immortality. 

I just stared back at Jamie, who was chewing slowly. It was odd to be in the same room with him, as he seemed lost and dazzled that I had no recollection of anything-

“It was a bargain, without knowing what you’re buying.” I could hear Alex say, flipping his hat over in his hands. I still don’t know how you can blindly love a shell, even if it feels flattering to know that someone cares without knowing, but it still dampens me that I’ll never know with what he fell in love with and that moment he had known and how I had felt as well.

It felt suffocating

A bit like noise, but I didn’t even know what to say, I didn’t know how to act or whether I even wanted to go back home and where even was home? Was it were we had left Alex’s nonexistent ashes or was it back in Glasgow? Glasgow seemed to just hold back my family which held all the responsibilities I had fled from with the summer and it all felt like a matter of time when they would try to find me and count the moon. I could bite off all my fingernails and they would still find me, strap me down and remind me of university and retaking everything again.

I just excused myself, not even knowing where to go, until he pointed, walking across the corridor, feeling uncomfortable with the odd sizing of the apartment which lodged on a firm middle. The price shouldn’t have been too bad, from what I imagined, even if it was surely a nightmare, as I opened the small window of the bathroom, wondering if I had missed the instructions to being a small bat of sorts-

Alex had hit Jamie with a bat

I closed my eyes. 

Memories are like syrup, they leak onto the bones digging in and then they rebuild them as if they were nothing new, all old and creaky with all the forms. That’s why when we die there’s no traces of us and sometimes it doesn’t matter if we don’t die at all

I pressed myself against the cold window, wondering how come my memories were merging or was it simply because I had known that Jamie had told me about this before, he had told me that Alex would show up with a baseball bat and beat him up. I wondered why had the instrument been such or was it because the syrup came that way? Was the syrup the same we had encountered in the yoghurt? How much anxiety would stretch to give us all the memories we hold each day with each fear we face? 

I wondered again.

I wondered how long would it take them to find me considering of my age and what would happen if they find me with a much older man? Just how old was even Jamie? How old have I been? When did I die before to be reborn in Alex’s arms first? And how come everything looped? Why was I Jamie’s answers when now he was mine? 

And when would I love?

But without him, I can hear him mumble, I can hear Jamie mumble harder and harder, describing how it had been, how he just felt interested in me, how the streets how once been inspiring when you walked with someone you had loved, but now it was all shroudded in melancoholy most likely for me, that’s why he wanted to take me out, to see it all again and if I wouldn’t find love that maybe I could find either of us. 

My head was spinning with noises I hadn’t heard and I had heard his footsteps now because I had taken so so long-

So long-

I didn’t want to be here and I didn’t want Glasgow either with anything which would amount, the wrong memories reminding me of things I’d forgotten to fit in with people when I would break down and head out of class, buy a ticket with money on the card and leave to Edinburgh just for the whole sake of it. That had been it. All the names were in my head, all the Tescos, all the Boots, all the Topshops, all of them just flashed and I pressed my hands against the mirror now, feeling all the intrusive thoughts telling me to break it and to bring bad luck upon myself just for the fury, because nothing would go back and I seemed to stop loving a man which risked his own death. 

Hold me.

Let me cringe.

I don’t know for how long I’d been yelling, clutching onto my teeth with bare hands, digging my skin in until they would reach my nails, that Jamie shouted back at me and I pulled the fingers away, not feeling any pain at all, entirely in his lap, staring, feeling myself fill up


I wanted to leave it unfinished, so the rest of the paragraph is in the next chapter. I was stuck and anxious when I just started writing this and me and Callie were discussing queer novels. That pretty much lead me to go, I'm not really writing a gay couple here, Callie and to get into the mood I started browsing through old Kills videos. I think I've seen everything to the end and back xD so I was just watching I Hate The Way You Love by the end of it really xD and I have no idea how many times I've watched it to be honest xD

I left it on the back to make it harder to write, chunkier (that's why my backstory is odd today too, sorry about that xD) and kind of echoes more with Used Lighter as Alison is recalling past events. 

One of my favourite images of UL was Alex in a top hat on a ladder so I always bring that back and in general creepy Alex is back, now to haunt Alison

or not really haunt since he is her old lover

I'm religious but I still like making my characters atheists when needed and to put a different narrative, since it's not really fun to have everyone have your views. 

The story tells itself. I was recalling Glasgow myself how I had broken down there and I had given that to Alison here as well. 

I was thinking the other day that BE/UL just go with the fact that I've always been fascinated with vampires and it's just my answer to the romance that I never got to read, I'll keep silent on the ending xD

The mumbling was because I had IHTWYL on the background really xD

I hope you enjoyed it and if you did, please tell me you enjoyed this chapter

Thank you



Bar Eyes 10

Thursday, 3 September 2015

To Miles 54

“Casablancas.” I say as I head over to Jamie’s and he just quickly puts his mug of coffee down, looking a bit sleepier as I just head in, closing the door, pulling my hat off.

“I thought he was your friend, Alex.” Jamie greets me back with a nod, looking at me confused, but I just feel frustrated that I grab him up and I don’t know what is even with me, as Jamie looks at me confused yet excited. 

“I fucking said Casablancas.” I hiss, through teeth, pulling him by his collar and I still feel at ease as Jamie just blinks, feeling as if all is a game and I wonder what if it is just power play and what would even the point be, but instead 

as usual, we get turned on by any fucked up state, allowing misery to be our sexual drive because if you can’t bathe in love, you can’t bathe in anything

I bite my tongue. 

“As you say, sailor- I mean, Captain.” Jamie bites his lips from laughing and I wonder how much more are we of the Devil as he puts the captain’s hat on me, pulling me into a warming kiss, pushing me harsher to him and I can’t even pull away, just pushing him against the wall. He watches me, stretching out his neck and I wonder how come we had known our own body language so well. I grab him by neck, holding my grip firm, taking his cock out, choking him, releasing his neck whenever he needs a gasp of air and continuing, watching him beg me to go faster or to even touch at all from time to time. 

When he comes all over my hand, he collapses in my arms, legs shaking, breath barely making it against mine and I hold him.

I don’t know why

Why I love him

And I look at him, finding sense and kissing him again. I don’t know why he keeps me calm. And I don’t know why sometimes you end up loving those you hate whilst sober. As if he had been a different person at first, as I watched him catch his breath, pressing himself entirely against me and his cum drying up in my hand, cupping him. Sometimes I wonder why do we fall in love with the people we do, what is that makes them so special and full of sparkle in our eyes? Is it just because they listen? Is that enough with all the roll of memories which they take with us, holding them up like a scarf, dismantling like a table cloth to make sure we’d feast on every single moment ever spent. 

Recalling every memory is painful, specifically when in the night Jamie decides to put his hat on as he wakes me up, reminding me that we should be the ones taking Casablancas and I wonder how unfair it is that I won’t see a struggling Julian fighting the Captain’s hands taking him away to death. And it was even more bewildering to be in Hince’s bed as he had been doing so. Only when he had left I had wondered if it was even wise of me to stay wrapped in my lover’s bedcovers, telling myself that summer was indeed going fun at sea this year. I closed my eyes, trying to even shield my worries with the sudden claustrophobia I had felt with the ship recently. I didn’t understand how come after one night I ended up dreading sharing the space with all the men whom I’ve nearly known inside out and all of a sudden my thoughts had been loud again and even with Jamie in the room, I wanted to be alone, I just wanted to lock myself up somewhere to hear no one and not hear who had managed to sneak in alcohol.

And I had slept until Jamie had woken me up and I didn’t even register that he had slept beside me as usual.

Julian’s departure was announced with the 22nd of June, the fall of France as they had signed. And that had been it, everything was simply destroyed and it was as if we were all so dazzled that we didn’t even know of who to be afraid of anymore in the canteen. Should we fear our own men and how come did the people who were getting killed are just becoming numbers for us and how come we were just watching from the sides, terrified of whatever had been happening. Why were we afraid of losing our men earlier when perhaps you could still tame the dragon? And I could see that everyone was scared of their night’s endeavors with now the canteen not holding Julian’s voice anymore. I couldn’t look at Miles who was just looking at his bowl, not even bothering to sober up for the day ahead, as if he had decided to stay asleep during the whole day. I expected him to approach me at any point, but even during the training he remained quiet and preserved, talking to me strictly of what to shoot and why had I been missing today, as if nothing had happened at all. I would try to catch his empty eyes, but instead he just looked at me empty then far too thoughtful for me to read through what had he been thinking, which made me wonder how come I had never known him. It felt as if every layer of him would only hold one word of truth. I was wondering how truthful had he been with Jamie back in the day and how much had it taken for him to break and never love again. 

I wondered again, as if younger than I had been when I had him torment all my thoughts and I felt too scared to even discuss the feelings with Jamie even if we would’ve ended up anyway, as he would speak of Alison as well. Alison would still crawl under his skin and he ended up being left as the culprit, as if it had always been his fault and I wondered if I felt flattered that he had chosen me over Alison, did that mean that I was not going to be okay if he had someone else?

I glanced at his table, as he had been finishing The Brothers Karamazov which I hadn’t read at the point and that felt a bit distant for some reason, that I couldn’t pick up the discussion properly and it only seemed to make me anxious and another reason for him to calm me down.

But would I be okay if he had another lover?

I had been okay with Alison, but what about the rest? How would I feel if he had another young man? And I couldn’t answer that question until it would end up falling into my hands for me to observe on how I would interact with it innerly and losing him was something I just couldn’t live with. I even stopped eating, staring ahead, my eyes fixed on him flicking through the novel, knowing that I had far too much literature I had read and not enjoyed for some reason. He loved me. Wasn’t that ever enough? And how come does it start becoming something collective or is because I had never stopped loving Miles then?

And is falling in love a new thing every day?

Was it like an enchanting song going round and round through the head?

And how come Miles had never left my head and how come was I even one to think of an ex anyway? Why had I ended up being a lover’s lover no matter where you would look at it? Miles wouldn’t look at me and that’s when it dawned on me, it wasn’t even just that he knew, it was that he had seen this before, that now he was a sole man without even his bestfriend and with Carlos sitting with his eyes red, closing them, his hands shaking one hand each for him and Julian which was now gone. What guarantee did he have that he wouldn’t be next? He didn’t dare to look at me, as if I would’ve been under danger as well. And how did he know which session was it that took dear Julian away? Why don’t we ever get a say in who should we even think about or forgive?

The days seemed to get dull, as I tried not to get my blood go cold that I even found myself closing my eyes when we would hear even more news on what was going on and Jamie would pay attention as he would smoke when he’d shift topic to the war, that I had stopped listening entirely. I was tired of waiting.

I didn’t understand why couldn’t we do anything at all as blood was spilled and we just had to watch the world crumble and my mind started drawing scenarios of black yarn that even we would get the taste of nazism on our land. I wondered how would that even be. I didn’t feel patriotic at all. I stopped feeling the taste of it, I had never fully understood and I even wondered why had I taken a job to defend a land which had wanted me gone so long ago. why had I been so hypoctrical to my own existence? Jamie stopped talking, watching me as he slowly finished his cigarette, wondering whether to even touch me as I just curled up and that’s when he sat next to me on my side of the bed and held me, not knowing what to even say, we’ve all lost.

During the day I can’t help but think about Carlos far too often, I don’t even nag about his sloppy skills today, as I just watch him. It’s odd to see how far can a person crack with trust, revealing themselves entirely and I could see how he even managed to cut himself while shaving this morning, he seemed to be calculating the right words. He seemed a bit more alive and killed at the same time, his eyes not known sleep for a good while now, mourning somewhat a death of a sailor. He finally found the courage, which I now seemed to be missing.

“I know you and Hince are sending men off.” And that was it, there was nothing behind why would you do this Julian and all of a sudden I saw the same man I had met rather than someone who was held truly by Julian. And it wasn’t Julian being taken away which had shredded him, but the fact that I had done it. Jamie was nearly an abstract figure for 
Carlos, as he would just dismiss everything as gossip about Jamie he would hear, but he never cared too much. He knew something had been going on after he had met us, so it even ended up making my feet give up more. Nothing can truly describe the moment when you see a person differently for the first time, when they want nothing to do with you. His gaze reminded me of Miles’, but just like then I had no idea what he would do. Instead he just looked down. His shoulders weren’t even shaking, he just didn’t know where to let his eyes rest and what to even do with himself. Carlos looked up to try and find some words to say, but besides opening his mouth, he couldn’t say anything.

It’s as if I decided that I should be waiting for him to tell me anything at all. We did the rest of the practice in complete silence and I didn’t even know what to say. I couldn’t say that I’m sorry, because I wasn’t, I had meant to send off Julian, scared and I had wanted to send him for so long. Julian was like a mirror I wanted to break to get bad luck, Julian was my intrusive thought which I wanted to wreck havoc as and to see what would happen. I wanted to see how far would the cracks go and how would it feel to see everything slip through my hands and shatter, as if I had wanted to taste a cut on my tongue just to feel the blood, just to feel alive. 

I sleep a bit before I head to Jamie’s usually, when I can pretend that everyone else is asleep and I wonder how many more just know and keep silent and that just makes me anxious and nervous as I watch the bunks in the dark, wondering how many of them know whose mouth I stick my tongue into. I wonder how the rumors spiral behind my back in the melancholy of a ship, I had started reaching today when I don’t want to think about Carlos, as anxiety and boredom go hand in hand on a seesaw and I’d rather be bored again. 

My mind stopped thinking about sailors, as I felt my body relax in the depths of the small bunk bed, feeling my feet entangled in the thin covers and feeling the fabric against my body, it was relaxing and frankly cozy after a long day, but it didn’t seem to close curtains on my wishes for the first time. I had wished that I was much younger again. I had missed my parents dearly all of a sudden, even if I had never let them know me properly, I had started missing them. I missed the loud dinners with my mother gossiping, my father listening and they both seemed absorbed, fascinated by who Matt had been dating and at a crossing at the road, whether they were proud of me going to the navy or wondering how come I didn’t have a girl under my arm. And all of a sudden I missed that dearly, I didn’t want to be in the navy anymore, I didn’t want to have a boyfriend, I wanted to be alone, I wanted to be troubled and destroyed by school, I wanted equations to be my only enemy with disaster and my own confusion about myself, but I didn’t want to see people, I didn’t want people to by problem and what I had done to them at all. 

That’s what I didn’t want.

I wanted to be alone aain with some surety that nothing would happen to me, that I would be left alone and I’d have a calm dinner every day. We only cherish such things when they die. And with the city where I came from not being a port town this was much harder to achieve until I would get shore leave. And then I wondered what would I even do, because if you come back to the past with the same mindset, you’ll never relax, there will be the present to torment you and make your feet ache. By the end of the day you’ll never relax. I don’t even know who am I even talking to anymore in my head, because I don’t listen. I just sit up, taking longer than usual and putting on my shirt to pretend to be heading to the bathroom, in the mirror I recognize myself, I’ve been sending off men with a man I love. I rinse my mouth with water, coughing loudly. 


Wow, it's been a bit over two months since I updated To Miles, so I'm terribly sorry that it took a while. I've been finding it thankfully easier to write by thinking that I have like twice writing 200 words left and so on and in general, thankfully my brain is slowly back to thinking about stories and my anxiety is a bit lower, so I'm more than thrilled about that xD even if it's still y'know... anxiety.

The first chunk was written with the previous chapter.

I guess I'll address that Julian lasted 54 chapters, he was supposed to be the first one to go and he became a metaphor for intrusive thoughts, which I think we all have, only Alex had acted on his.

Callie was the one who pointed it out, because I just frankly write and she's the one finding all the metaphors and dissecting things (I like discussing it, like Julian being metaphor is my doing just now xD) and one of hers was just going how the navy theme follows on in Alex and Jamie's sex life really. That's not really a metaphor, but they do get a kick out of it and it's a classic role play really for sub/dom. 

Another thing both me and Callie discussed was how I ended up mashing up two events which was Julian's departure and the fall of France. Writing To Miles and watching all the wars around happen makes it easy to understand the mindset which would be on the ship and how Julian becomes a bigger tragedy. I struggle a lot with the ongoing wars and I don't know how to act or how to relax about them, so I bring that to the story and that's what makes it authentic if you must.

One of my favourite death/war quotes is actually by Stalin and in life I use it frequently, which goes "a death of one is a tragedy, death of millions is statistics" and that kind of falls under Julian's departure.

I really have to keep my lips shut at this point as some things just point to events which will happen in the next chapter or so, so this backstory might be short and avoiding things xD

I had been rather tense with many things happening which cause me anxiety and kind of sticking the anxiety here really helped me, so yeah. That's why this chapter is so realistically tense. 

I have insomnia and even if I was missing my parents during the day, I kind of combined those two together. I just grabbed my phone and wrote which I hadn't done in a very good while, so I was very happy about that. 

It's been really hard recently and I just wished that life had been simpler somehow, it was never simpler, but I became oddly nostalgic about things, so I wrote about that. So yeah.

I hope you enjoyed it and thank you so so much

If you liked it, please tell me