1040 Miles Away

1040 miles away.

Have we ever been that far apart?

Oh yes. Twice, I think. Once for two weeks. Once for a day.

It’s been two days.

Next week, I will be the one to get on a plane. For three weeks. THAT will be the longest. I will enjoy myself, I know, but I will also be aching to get back to you.

I seem to be spending all my time waiting. That isn’t how one should live life.

Embrace the moment, they say. I don’t want to live my moments without you, though. I feel as though a part of me is missing and if I am left to my own devices too long, it haunts me and creates a lump in my throat.

So I am keeping very busy. Not that I have a choice, of course. In the small moments before my eyes close at night, I feel alone and empty. No warmth to snuggle up to. Nobody to put my arm around in the pitch blackness because I am afraid of the dark.

I sleep on his pillow, because it smells of him, of course. I close my eyes and bury my face in it, pretending it is his T-shirt. He isn’t so squishy though.

When you come back, I am going to cover your face in kisses. Please come home safely.

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Burnout

I am growing up.

Things are changing. My face is taking on an adult quality that it has lacked since I entered adolescence. People no longer mistake me for a sixteen year old.

I felt this acutely on Friday when a man with a badge stopped me in town. I said, ‘I’m sorry, I’m not twenty five,’ really quickly because I knew what was coming and they usually need you to be 25.

‘Could have fooled me!’ he said, his eyes already scanning the crowds for another easy target.

Could have fooled me.

Really? Oh no.

There are bags under my eyes and they usually go within a day or two but these have been here for two months. My face is ashy and grey. My lips are purple. I don’t know why. I look fine after makeup but without it I look like a pile of lumpy ash.

Other things are changing too. I am not happy anymore. I find it incredibly hard to smile, and I am pludgering on through my days with a grimace; a combination of four hours’ sleep, and a day filled with minute planning else none of my goals will be achieved.

I complain a lot.

My tummy is bloated. (It is. All the time. Another medical mystery to solve.)

I don’t like living here.

Everything is a mess.

Stop being a child, Damian.

My tummy hurts.

I’m tired.

And I am. All the time. Every day I dream of falling back on to my bed for a nap, but it cannot happen, and when bedtime comes my brain is full of information and is busy creating a list of things to do for the next day that it usually takes me a good hour or two to wind down and be ready to sleep.

I have four thousand words to submit on the 17th of May, and two thousand five hundred for the 15th. I have a large exam for the first of June, and I haven’t read six of the eight set books required for the exam. How will I read six books in two weeks? As well as teach a bunch of kids for three hours a day and go into work for two hours a day, and chauffeur my brothers for 1.5 hours?

I can do it, of course. I already have a schedule.

But when moody madam is tired, schedules are generally hard to keep up with and I am always one to two hours behind because sometimes I can be slow.

So, I think I am growing up. I am learning to live, slowly and painfully. I don’t have my own life plan because I am living with my in laws, and usually have to follow their schedules and take my belongings wherever I go. So my wash bag and a towel along with a change of clothes comes in the car with me, along with a change of shoes and all my study books and teaching materials.

Most my showers are taken at the gym, and I usually groom myself there because the bathrooms are not always free at home and sometimes I can’t use them. It’s weird. I take such quick showers, I don’t see why its a problem. But eh, I guess I have a system now.

The epilating is hard, though. I don’t have time for that, so I try to make time. Last week I got to epilate and moisturise my legs and arms properly for the first time since December. I only had fifteen minutes before I was being called out of my room, so I hurried. But my legs still feel amazing.

D reckons I need to make more of an effort with my appearance. I do, of course. I look horrible. Just awful. I don’t feel confident to wear nice clothes because I have a stress pooch. My tummy pooches out when I am stressed and also it is always bloated so I don’t feel great making an effort with my apparel. Must get that sorted. I cut out dairy and grains, so maybe I should try just eating fruit and veg for a bit.

D says in August we can start looking for our own place. Financial reasons, of course. August can’t come soon enough.

Anyway. I am becoming better at hiding my sadness. I smile and chat away, but sometimes I show my mum my moody feelings because I can be fully myself with her. Still, it isn’t nice for her to always see me unhappy. I should make a better effort.

I don’t want to, you know? I don’t want to. And all my creativity is running dry.

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On Friendship and Betrayal.

I’m ticked off.

I know, it’s Tuesday morning. Surely I would have more positive things to write about. But no, I’m annoyed, and this is my rant.

So I have a ‘friend’ who I used to be pretty close to up until recently when she stopped returning my calls and texts and was being just plain rude. I didn’t confront her about it because I know she can get lazy with things and plus I secretly knew why.

You see this friend doesn’t like my mother in law or my in laws in general. When she found out I was going to marry D she was incredulous and said, “But isn’t he pious!?”

I admit I laughed in her face because D is anything but pious, not that there is anything wrong with being pious but she knows me and I can’t stand ‘piety’ because ‘piety’ means hypocrisy where we come from. But she didn’t know D like I did, and so was going by what she assumed.

But there you see that’s where it all began. She (let’s call her Madam S) was already judging. She was judging my Significant Other without even knowing him. She reckons my mother in law is judgy and that is why she doesn’t want to associate with her, which is all very well, but now she doesn’t want to associate with me because I am now part of my MIL’s family, so therefore I must be ‘judgy’ by association.

I’m sorry but that just isn’t fair. It’s judgemental to assume somebody is ‘judgy’ without giving that person a chance. She hasn’t given me a single fudging chance. Not one. She assumes things about me, and talks to another ‘friend’ of ours who is also hating on my MIL, about my MIL, and this makes her assume things about me meaning she no longer ‘trusts’ me.

Now my MIL is a lovely, well intentioned lady who always tries to be as good as she can and as kind as she can to others. Sometimes this can be overbearing, and sometimes people can get the wrong end of the stick. I mean, I used to as well. But I’ve lived with her now and I know she only means well. When it gets too much for me I have a little moan and get on with it, because she is my family and the mother of the love of my life. She does care about me, a lot, and is always making sure I am happy and comfortable, which I think is lovely. Others don’t know that, but they are exaggerating things that have happened and are going around saying horrible things which are only falling back on me, because I am now part of that family. Also it is insensitive to talk about others when you really don’t know the full picture. It is inconsiderate and not very wise.

For example when one of our mutual family friends was divorcing her husband, my MIL may have said something along the lines of ‘You should be sure you are making the right decision because of your kids etc’. Now that lady’s daughter is telling Madam S that my MIL ‘blamed’ the divorce on her mother (the lady who is getting divorced). Which isn’t true at all, and a slanderous accusation based on presumption, not fact.

The girls who are saying those things are girls like me, in their twenties; impressionable young ladies who generally like to make mountains out of molehills. Yes, I make mountains out of molehills. I can be selfish sometimes, I can be moany and irritating. I admit it, but I also give people the benefit of the doubt!

Some of them have gone through some rough patches, like parents getting bad divorces and family members having nervous breakdowns, so naturally they will lash out at small things and get the wrong end of the stick.

But this Madam S who used to be one of my best friends is being, I am sorry to say, a little bitch. She KNOWS me. So if she doesn’t want to associate with me purely because of assumption then I am sorry, I have better things to worry about.

I have run after her enough times, suggesting outings for us and inviting her to places and calling her and asking about her health and even telling her a hilarious story about wonky boobs which she replied to but then nothing. Silence. Blank space. Nada. Zilch.

So I am done. I think she needs to grow up.

And if she calls me or texts me you can bet your life I am not replying. I am too hurt, and I think she doesn’t deserve my friendship.

So, dear reader, if you have made it this far, what are your thoughts? Have you had a friend betray you before? How did you deal with it?

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