My newest attempt at "blogging"

Not sure which will prevail...

Labels - as long as they're removable.

So, where did 2011 go?

I spent the duration of 2011 in it’s entirety avoiding labels in my life. I don’t know where my resistance to categorising things stems from but I seem to resist confining tags throughout my life. I’m the girl who gets asked “Is that your boyfriend” and says “No” because I haven’t allowed that conversation to happen. The most recent occurrence of this was asked by the male himself. Needless to say, heartache and awkward semi-formal conversations followed and now, even if I were to give the answer which was originally desired, I have every faith in said male, that he would politely decline my advances.

I can’t even label my aversion to labels in this situation as commitmaphobia. I crave commitment. Or so I think.

Does magic determine success?

I got him back. That one I told you about. We're giving it another go. Seven years on, two entirely different people to those who said goodbye so long ago. We're trying. I see in him something I've not seen in the eyes of another since we left. I feel with him a connection completely unrivalled. And yet, this time around, I'm not convinced the magic's there.

When I see you

When I see you greet one of your friends, any one of them, the way we used to, jealousy completely consumes my being. Because for that one moment, that one person has you, a friend, in their embrace. And they don'tt appreciate that I am seeing my entire world in their arms.

What is closure anyway?

Just back from a long weekend away from my hometown. What was supposed to be a fun filled few days of gossiping with the old uni friends, turned into a somewhat fun including few days littered with headwrecking moments leaving me overall, rather penseive.

He was there. I knew he would be. They were just as much his uni friends as they are mine. But it doesn't make seeing him any easier. I thought I was over him. I am over him. I'm ok without him. Until I see him. Because when I'm with him, all the work of the past months, all the strength I've fought to build, it all seems like nothing. And when I see him, maybe I still love him. Maybe when I see him I still love him and i still need him and I still miss him more than anything I could ever find the words to come close to describing.

Getting over getting over you... not so easy

New Years Eve said goodbye to the mistakes and heartbreaks of last year but looking back at that night, started 2010 with one big regret. I didn't know him, I still don't really. I met him at a bus stop as we were leaving the club. He made me laugh and I called him names. An instant connection of course. We IM'd for weeks, every night. At our best we would talk for 8 hours straight. Our sense of humour mirrored each others. I feel like I know him, I like him for him. He liked me for me. I took it too slowly. It faded. We don't talk so much these days. It's a shame.

Every time I hit another dead end I think back to him. The one I thought for so long was "the one". He's gone. I sometimes think I should knock on his door out of the blue, throw my arms around him, tell him I love him, I've always loved him and he'll wipe away the single tear falling down my cheek and tell me he's missed me and realises he can't live without me...
I won't do that. Because for the little part of me that knows I could love him again, the rest of me is remembering how difficult it was to get to where I am now. I'm over the devastation of losing him. I've come out of that black hole of heartache. And, though I can still feel that longing for him sometimes, the fact that I can feel, well, anything, for somebody else, is somewhat comforting.

Getting over you was easy in the end.

I really want to talk to someone about the men in my life. I wish I'd kept a diary over the last few months as sometimes even I lose track of where my head and heart are at.

The first to come along since the ex, was Muslim. I'm Catholic. I would have loved him eventually. You know when you just know that given time you'd fall. We didn't have the time. That was a whirlwind. Exciting and naughty and dangerous and secret and we really connected. We spoke every day. Most hours to be honest. We still speak most days. I got a really good friend in him. But we'll both always feel that little bit more deep down. Each of us knows it. Everyone who knows the two of us see it too. But he's muslim, I'm Catholic and his family need him to find a Muslim girl to bring into the family. As he told me... he doesn't make the rules, just has to follow them.

I can be his friend. His parents found him a girlfriend soon after. But then there are times like tonight when he says things like how stupid he must be to have missed out on being with me, and tells me how he's spent the last hour looking through pictures of me. But at least I know where I stand with him.

Sort of...