Ivy --
As much as that little voice inside my head keeps telling me that I'm being a fool, I can't help but still get flutters in my stomach when I see her pop online. I want to say something, to break the ice, but I am ridiculous cautious about it.
Speak of the devil, she just sent me an email. I keep telling myself, "No, Mars, no. Don't do this to yourself. You haven't even spoken to her for the past four years and she has held an unbelievable hatred towards you the entire time."
I'm not good at listening to myself though.
Gentle Ivy, what am I to do?
Friday, May 7, 2010
Killing myself slowly -- or why I can't quit smoking
Ivy --
It seems so lonely on these nights. Insomnia comes often. It's a more frequent visitor than any other I've known. I keep telling myself I'll just have one more cigarette. After all, I'm awake anyway, right?
I apologise in advance, gentle reader. This is likely to turn into a rant.
I yearn for these. Physically yearn. It's like they are a substitute for you, Ivy. I spend the majority of my time alone (let's not go into just how sad that is -- and when I say sad, I mean pathetic) and these are like my little friends.
I want to quit. No, I NEED to quit. But every time I try to do so, I turn into a cycle of grumpy.
Ivy, what is a poor blogger to do?
It seems so lonely on these nights. Insomnia comes often. It's a more frequent visitor than any other I've known. I keep telling myself I'll just have one more cigarette. After all, I'm awake anyway, right?
I apologise in advance, gentle reader. This is likely to turn into a rant.
I yearn for these. Physically yearn. It's like they are a substitute for you, Ivy. I spend the majority of my time alone (let's not go into just how sad that is -- and when I say sad, I mean pathetic) and these are like my little friends.
I want to quit. No, I NEED to quit. But every time I try to do so, I turn into a cycle of grumpy.
Ivy, what is a poor blogger to do?
Thursday, May 6, 2010
The trouble with exes
Ivy --
I was thinking about you today. Have you ever had one of those completely bizarre moments when suddenly your life doesn't feel like your own anymore? That was me today. You see, after not speaking with the first girl I fell in love with for four years suddenly we have reconnected.
I should note, Ivy, this may be a side of me you haven't seen before. In fact, it's a side that most people haven't. I suppose that is the great and magical thing about the internet though. It provides such a great shield of anonymity that I have found nowhere else.
It's surprising how many people judge others based on their skin colour, race, sexual orientation, heck, even choice of sports teams or states of residence. There is something so comforting about the fact that the internet sees past that because it doesn't know you. You are just you -- male or female; white or black; straight or gay. It doesn't matter and nobody really cares.
I digress.
The moment I saw her picture again, floods of old feelings bubbled up inside me. Now, I'm sure there's some sort of technical word for it, but I'm just going to call it rehash romance. Maybe it will catch on.
Now this rehash romance in my mind was so sudden and so unmistakeable that it took me aback. I hadn't even talked to this woman in four years. In fact, she held such an utter hatred towards me that I never expected to be on speaking terms with her again. (I think that is a story for another time. Or perhaps if you want to hear it I will indulge.)
Suffice it to say no one is perfect, Ivy. I have never claimed to be. It would be presumptuous to assume anyone else is. So I thought to myself, "Mars, why don't you let bygones by bygones?" And so we are on speaking terms.
The flutter in my (some would say) slightly charred heart was alarming. Could it be that I still had feelings for her after so long? After everything that had happened? I found myself thinking about the past; thinking about how things were at one point.
Then the voice of reason spoke. I think it was British and very concerned.
"Mars. You have been through this and you do it every time. You don't love her. You're just in love with the idea of the way things were. A long time ago. A bloody long time ago." (Did I mention it was British?)
Ahh, yes. Rehash romance. But it got me thinking about other girlfriends I've had in the past and how I didn't really come out the knight in shining armor in all those instances. I guess that's a story for another time, too, Ivy. But if you think you would get anything out of it, I'd gladly oblige.
For now, I'm going to smoke my last cigarette and enjoy the rest of this night. I'm thinking about you, Ivy, and hoping you are safe wherever you are.
I was thinking about you today. Have you ever had one of those completely bizarre moments when suddenly your life doesn't feel like your own anymore? That was me today. You see, after not speaking with the first girl I fell in love with for four years suddenly we have reconnected.
I should note, Ivy, this may be a side of me you haven't seen before. In fact, it's a side that most people haven't. I suppose that is the great and magical thing about the internet though. It provides such a great shield of anonymity that I have found nowhere else.
It's surprising how many people judge others based on their skin colour, race, sexual orientation, heck, even choice of sports teams or states of residence. There is something so comforting about the fact that the internet sees past that because it doesn't know you. You are just you -- male or female; white or black; straight or gay. It doesn't matter and nobody really cares.
I digress.
The moment I saw her picture again, floods of old feelings bubbled up inside me. Now, I'm sure there's some sort of technical word for it, but I'm just going to call it rehash romance. Maybe it will catch on.
Now this rehash romance in my mind was so sudden and so unmistakeable that it took me aback. I hadn't even talked to this woman in four years. In fact, she held such an utter hatred towards me that I never expected to be on speaking terms with her again. (I think that is a story for another time. Or perhaps if you want to hear it I will indulge.)
Suffice it to say no one is perfect, Ivy. I have never claimed to be. It would be presumptuous to assume anyone else is. So I thought to myself, "Mars, why don't you let bygones by bygones?" And so we are on speaking terms.
The flutter in my (some would say) slightly charred heart was alarming. Could it be that I still had feelings for her after so long? After everything that had happened? I found myself thinking about the past; thinking about how things were at one point.
Then the voice of reason spoke. I think it was British and very concerned.
"Mars. You have been through this and you do it every time. You don't love her. You're just in love with the idea of the way things were. A long time ago. A bloody long time ago." (Did I mention it was British?)
Ahh, yes. Rehash romance. But it got me thinking about other girlfriends I've had in the past and how I didn't really come out the knight in shining armor in all those instances. I guess that's a story for another time, too, Ivy. But if you think you would get anything out of it, I'd gladly oblige.
For now, I'm going to smoke my last cigarette and enjoy the rest of this night. I'm thinking about you, Ivy, and hoping you are safe wherever you are.
Welcome
Dear Ivy:
I've been meaning to do this for some time now, but the inspiration never quite strikes when it should. You see, Ivy, these letters aren't just for you. In fact, Ivy, I don't even know you. I don't know your last name. I don't know where you live. Your name might not even be Ivy.
To me, you are the embodiment of the world's population. You are every single person I so desperately want to reach and share my life with. So, Ivy -- or Katherine or James or Ruby or Michael or whomever -- these are for you.
I hope to get some decent debate here. I hope to open your eyes to the way I see things and I hope that you open mine, too. After all, that's what friendship and relationships are about.
Until next time.
I've been meaning to do this for some time now, but the inspiration never quite strikes when it should. You see, Ivy, these letters aren't just for you. In fact, Ivy, I don't even know you. I don't know your last name. I don't know where you live. Your name might not even be Ivy.
To me, you are the embodiment of the world's population. You are every single person I so desperately want to reach and share my life with. So, Ivy -- or Katherine or James or Ruby or Michael or whomever -- these are for you.
I hope to get some decent debate here. I hope to open your eyes to the way I see things and I hope that you open mine, too. After all, that's what friendship and relationships are about.
Until next time.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)