Tuesday, 31 August 2010

it's five!

five years ago today... my sister was ringing me. you've all read about it, you all know the story. it was the call i knew the content of even before i answered the phone. my mum had died.

five days ago today, i was somewhere over the atlantic. i was still drunk and my eyeballs were still puffy from saying goodbye to all my favourites. i had taken six 10mg valium and just wanted to sleep but was distracted by the DISGUSTING woman sat next to me who refused to take her stupid neck-pillow-thing off, even whilst walking down the airplane aisle to her seat.

five hours ago i was in the middle of a jet-lag coma, certain i would never come out of it. i laid on the bed and apologized profusely to Muffin for being so tired. my head just simply refuses to play nicely with the Pacific time zone. i keep waking up when i would wake up in england... keep waking up and pining after the mornings when i would prance into Pow's room and squish his face until he was conscious enough to respond to breakfast and a cup of tea.

five minutes ago i was harassing janey on the Book of Face, missing the banter that we typically have... wanting so desperately to tell her of all the people that i have seen that she'd disapprove of just as much as me. deciding that i would have to begin the task of taking photos discreetly so i could share SOME form of my life with her like we used to.

america is treating me okay... like i said, i've been here five days, give or take a few hours. i've had more sex than you could shake a freaking stick at and have officially done one of those HUGE shops at Wal*Mart that features you having to sign away your firstborn (it was worth it though, as i now have the sexiest pair of knives i've ever seen and a hot pink mixing bowl). the charity shops have treated me well and my skin seems to LOVE the climate enough to stop breaking out at the drop of a fucking hat.

Washington is beautiful. Muffin is wonderful but has been over-compensating and feels the need to constantly try to impress me with the sights and points of interest in the area, when all i really want to do is sit and... actually, i've no idea what i want to do. at the end of a shopping trip or a mince around town i come home and just feel lost. i am here, in this house that is unfamiliar to me, has a distinct lack of my THINGS (because i'm a fucking retard who didn't pack until the last minute whilst she was drunk and weepy, thanks Nick, by the way). i've placed my fake teeth on the shelf and my books are over there on that chair, but it still doesn't feel like HOME.

my head is still in england... at least time-wise. i seem to be narcoleptic and enjoy falling asleep every chance i get... every opportunity there is for me to stop for even the slightest moment, i am out like a light.

being with Muffin is really, REALLY nice, but still feels incredibly strange. i keep picking out stupid faults and i don't know if it is because i'm scared and want to go home or if it's because i really, honestly am trying to look out for ME this time. i was laid in bed with him this evening, on my left side, nestled against his right, explaining to him that i loved him but that i really, REALLY need to be happy for me. the stupid thing? i feel guilty for saying that... for saying that i will get back on a plane in november if i am not happy. i need to be happy. i need to feel like i am thriving. i need to feel normal right now...

the most normal i felt was last night. i hadn't heard from Pow in ages so i rang him (i worry, A LOT and was fairly certain that he had died and was a bloated corpse in his bed with his purple and orange sheets strewn around him and just a tee-shirt on.). speaking to him immediately calmed me. his voice... all i can remember at the moment is those last few minutes at the airport. he was drunk (from birthdayfuntimes) and laid across two chairs. i held his hand and he rubbed my tiny thumb joint with is giant thumb. he snoozed and i watched him... trying, as usual to memorize his face. he opened his eyes and saw me staring. he squeezed my hand and said, "i'm gonna have to get used to this."

"to what?" i enquired.

"to you not being around."
instant weep. i squeezed him and he crawled onto the floor and laid his head on my lap and i scratched his head for an hour and kissed his face as i told him all my favourite things about him.

speaking to him again made things okay. made me feel like i could do this. he makes me feel strong and like the decisions i make are good ones and that i am actually a strong person who can make it through all this stuff... all the travel, stress, sad, worry, lonely and fear. he reminds me that in light of all those things, i will have cuddles, beautiful, lovely, warm, happy, smiles that i could never, ever replace. i love him and need to go call the takeaway.


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