Bruises

As I step out of the shower, I slowly reach out for the fluffy towel hanging in front of me. I wince as a shooting pain slides from shoulder blade to my fingertips. I draw the soft material to my damp chest and stand still for a few moments as my body restore itself from the shock of the pain. I gently dab myself 
dry - the towel softly grazing over my skin. Over my bruises.

I stand in front of the mirror after slipping into a striped, blue and black, skater dress. I smile inwardly at the thought of how my mother would've reacted to the ensemble that sat snugly, quite far above my knees. My eyes scrutinize the girl that I stare at in the mirror. My gaze eventually rest on the purple-blue mark resting just beneath my collarbone. I'm horrified for a moment but reassure myself that it's nothing a little base or concealer can't fix. I arrange my hair into a loosely tousled up-do while letting a few soft curls fall to frame my face. I turn around to inspect my work... A scowl leaps across my face as I see another bruise rudely placed slightly to the left of my right shoulder blade - where my dress annoyingly doesn't hide it. I stand for a while thinking of how I'm going to successfully cover it with my concealer. My thoughts are interrupted by the twinkling beeping of my cell phone - it's him.

I look down nervously and reach down to open the message. The hair at the base of my neck stands on end as my fingers slide over the screen. I swallow slowly and breather deeply as I read:

Hey :)

Just checking to see where you'd like to meet 

tonight... I was thinking of the balcony over 

the food court - to the left of the bridge? 

Let me know.

I smile and bite my lip as the butterflies rage around in my stomach. I haven't seen him in ages. I hurriedly type a message back so that I can finish getting ready and to remove any opportunity of making myself late:

That sounds just fine :) 

I'll see you then... I'll let you know when

I'm on my way. See you soon!

:) xx

I hold the phone nervously and re-read my message, hoping that he doesn't take it as too eager. I extend my hand to return my cell phone to its original position on my desk but before I do, it beeps again- vibrating excitedly against the palm of my hand. The message reads:

Can't wait ;)

x

I stand in a daze and mentally hush my subconscious giggles. I snap back into reality and go about lightly applying some concealer to my face before moving on to the pesky, visible bruises. I can't quite be certain if they're adequately covered but I can't focus on that so much now as I have to get on the road soon. I hurriedly apply some eye make-up to liven my boring, brown eyes and dash to put on my brand new sky-high heels- perhaps a bit too formal for this evening but any excuse would have done if it meant I would finally get to wear them. The fact that he would be the first in them was a mere bonus - and it made me giddy to think about what his reaction might be. He hasn't seen me in ages. I hope he notices a change.

I slide into the front seat of my car and mutter disapprovingly at myself for not having thought about driving in heels. I sulkily chuck my newly-donned heels onto the passenger seat beside me and quickly send him a message to tell him that I'm on my way. I glance at myself in the rear-view mirror and place both of my hands on the steering wheel and take a deep breath. I pull out of the driveway of the cute little B & B I'm staying in. My phone beeps and I know it's another message from him so I wait until I've stopped at the next red light before taking a look at it:

Slow poke :P

Drive safely... And message me when you get

here? I'm wearing a grey blazer, just in case 

you don't recognise me. :D

xx

I smile and hurriedly type a reply as I wait for the traffic light to turn green:

I would drive safely if you would stop 

distracting me! ;) :P

You honestly think I won't recognise 

you? Hahaha, thanks for the thought 

though :) 

I put my phone on silent in order to stop myself from being launched into a full conversation with him which we weren't too far away from. Thankfully, I was able to do so just in time for the green light to give its go ahead for my journey to continue. Every passing kilometre instils further excitement in me- I realise just how much I actually miss this guy... This really good friend of mine.

I pull into a parking bay that is relatively close to the entrance - my gratification becomes known to me as I slip into my heels once more. I walk briskly through the revolving doors and toward the mall food court. Upstairs, he had said... That's where the more upper class restaurants were and I sigh in relief as I move further away from all the fast food establishments like McDonalds and KFC and perhaps also as my feet catch a slight break as I step onto the escalator. I walk slowly across the bridge looking down over the brimming food court hoping to see him there waiting. Dismayed, I lean against the balcony... Awkwardly waiting for him to arrive. Now who's the slow poke?

I remember that I forgot my phone on silent and I hurriedly unlock it to find a message from him:

It's been a while that's all...

I hope you haven't changed much :)

Sorry for the distraction ;)

I smile at the last line but frown at the second. I'm hoping my change is good. I am thinner than when he last saw me - a lot thinner. An air of great pride rushes through me at the thought as I let my mind scroll back to the last time I saw him and how I appeared then. I feel prettier now... but I want him to, in a way, confirm that for me. I grimace at the possibility that perhaps he always liked the way I looked before and that now I may be less attractive to him. I message him the announcement of my arrival. Almost instantaneously, I receive his reply:

I'm here. Where are you hiding? :)

Bewildered, I check my surroundings through the corners of my eyes to ensure that I came to the correct meeting place. I know I am right. I slowly turn around and there he is. Standing slightly to my left with his back facing me, looking as though he is expecting to meet someone. I grin shyly and slowly make my way over to him - careful not to make to much noise. I stand behind him, slightly to the right and tap his left shoulder. I giggle softly and smile broadly as he jumps slightly and spins around- clearly not have being able to recognise me.

"Wow..." he breathes as he takes in the sight of me. I blush but tilt my head to the side and roll my eyes at him playfully.

"I think I should've been the one to tell you what I was wearing,"I pause, relishing in his stunned silence, "...seeing as you're the one who couldn't recognise me." He snaps out of his trance-like state and is back into his usual, amused self. He laugh and walks forward to hug me- his arms slowly extend towards me to pull me in but I draw back sharply, holding my breath as I do. He looks at me, puzzled. I relax and recover my strange reaction by saying, "Woah, hold up. Are you sure you know who I am?" He gives me a huge smile and hugs me- without resistance from me this time. 

"Don't be ridiculous," he says sweetly and winks at me and then offers his arm to me which I take gladly. He glances down at my feet. "Great shoes... Bet you're regretting them now, huh?"

"I'll manage," I reply as I narrow my eyes at him... but a smile dances brightly on my lips.

"Time for sushi?" he says enthusiastically. I smiled as I remember just how much he loves his sushi.

"That's what I'm here for," I tease and wink at him over-dramatically. "Oh, and for some polite catch-up conversation of course."

"Hurtful," he says in his mock-hurt response. I've missed him.

We walk arm in arm toward a restaurant where he knows the managers who came out to greet him personally and lead us to our reserved table. "Nice choice," I say as I glanced around the beautiful restaurant. A humble smile twitches at the corners of his mouth as he lifts his glass of whiskey to his lips. It reminds me of just how cute I found his humility even though he's generously financially blessed. I mirror his drinking action- except with my glass of rosé. We sit side by side in a comfortable corner booth with leather upholstery, graced with a beautiful view of the outside terrace and the rest of the restaurant. We eat, drink, reminisce, catch up as promised... and never, for a moment, do we take our eyes off of each other. 

"You look beautiful," he says softly after mains. For the first time of the evening, he looks away from me- he glances down at the table and tugs at his place mat before slowly saying, "You were always beautiful but now..." His voiced trails off. I blush and smile empathetically at this exceedingly gorgeous, shy grown man that sits before me... looking almost embarrassed at his confession. My head is reeling and I am strangely lost for words and so I stutter a meagre "Thank you," in reply. He turns so as better to face me and slowly lift his hand to gently play with the few curls that frame my face. His hand slides down my cheek smoothly and as it continues to my shoulder, his other hand meets my waist- a double whammy. I flinch and having no direction to go I just freeze in ever so noticeable fear. He blinks at me- clearly concerned now.

"What's wrong?" he asks sternly.

"N...Nothing," I stutter as I carefully ease his hands from my body but rather holding them in mine.

"You're lying," he chides, matter-of-factly. He looks at me expectantly... firmly, as though he would wait all night for the truth. 

"I can't tell you here," I mutter quickly. I pause, "I can't show you here." He raises his eyebrows at me- no doubt not having expected it to be quite this serious. He looks down at my hands- clasped in his.

"My place then," he says and gently eases his one hand out of my grasp to motion to our waiter for the bill. I reach for my purse before he quickly says, "No, I've got it." It's clear that there is no more amusement or carefree inflection in his voice. I have seen him in just about every mood- goofy, happy, tired, pissed off... But never so serious. 

As we walk out of the restaurant I stop, hoping to make him smile again because the seriousness in the air between us is beginning to make me somewhat uneasy, "What about dessert?" I say and I am relieved to see his mischievous grin creep across his face. 

"We can run in to a grocery store... Get some frozen yoghurt?" he offers. 

"Sure," I grin, unphased by the dessert choice although happy about it but happier that he doesn't have that deadpan expression on his face any more. We stroll to the nearest store, speaking of other things so as to distract ourselves from the tension that looms above us.

Then, approaching the entrance I first came from, he stop and swings around to face me... the shopping bag catches up with him and gently bumps into his leg. "We can take your car and..." he starts. He thinks to himself for a moment while I watch him curiously. "You could... Uh. Stay the night?" My eyes widen in pleasant surprise. "I have a spare room." He adds quickly. I smile as he visibly becomes more nervous and looks down at the ground. "What about your car?" I ask- a smile now plastered to my face. He looks up and smiles sheepishly, "Driver." I roll my eyes and suddenly receiving a burst of courage, I step forward and kiss him softly on the cheek. 

We enter his apartment, a beautifully modern 2 bedroom suite with an open plan kitchen and entertainment area. He places the frozen yoghurt on the marble counter top and turns around to get dessert bowls and spoons for the two of us. He dishes out two massive bowls of frozen yoghurt and moves one toward me. "Right," he announces, "dessert and explanations!" I smile sadly at him and push myself up onto a barstool in front of the counter, my back facing him. I suddenly feel the heat of his eyes on me- practically melting the sweet dessert that I clutch in my hands. He walks over to me slowly and I don't think to turn around. Suddenly I feel his hand slowly skim over the bruise near my shoulder blade as he hooks his finger into the sleeve of my dress and tugs it down- revealing the bruises I hadn't treated with concealer. My entire body tenses at his touch.

"Who... who did this to you," he breathes in disbelief, mingled with anger. I exhale heavily, my breath is staggered- a lump forming in my throat as tears prick my eyes. "Are there more?" he asks softly. Pained by the question and his intrusive yet welcomed touch, I shut my eyes tightly and nod. "Show me," he whispers mournfully. I turn to look at him and the tears suddenly fly down my face- for a second unbeknown to me until I feel them dripping down from my chin to my hands that are cradling the dessert bowl in my lap. He cups my face in his hands and then gently begins stroking my hair. "No... Shhh angel, don't cry," he consoles. He takes the bowl from me and sets it back down on the counter. He takes my hands in his- I can feel the warmth of his skin so starkly now beneath my frosted fingertips. He weaves his fingers into mine and then leans forward, brushing my cheeks with his lips. I shudder as more tears fall while his touch becomes more real to me. He leads me to the couch, sits down and coaxes me down so that I am half-sitting on lap. He begins to kiss my cheeks- where tears have left there watermarks on my skin- softly and sweetly. I tilt my head up and my lips meet his. A soft, innocent and lingering meeting- our lips remain against each others and I feel so extraordinarily... safe. He pulls away slowly, "Ex-boyfriend?" he suddenly says questioningly. I nod solemnly, staring, in a daze, at my hands. "He was so..." I pause to allow the urge to cry again to pass, "Angry." 

"I wanted to end things and he got angry... I made him angry," I whimper and he shakes his head at me reassuring me that it wasn;t my fault. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to press the image out of my mind but to no prevail. I can hear his raging and drunken voice in my head... as well as my own screams that had, at the time, sounded so unfamiliar and weak to me. I recall how he had pushed me to the floor and then kicked me in my side- at my waist where this wonderful guy had just recently wanted to hold me. He had struck me across chest- at my collarbones and across my back. My body stings in the relevant places as I recall the atrocious memories. I am tired suddenly and slump into the arms of someone safe - far, far away from the monster who hurt me. 

He scoops me up in his arms and carries me to his bedroom- I know its his because its so heavily personalized and strewn with clothes. I sit up slowly on his large bed, practically sinking into the pale grey sheets. I slip out of my shoes and then slowly remove my dress- showing him all of the damage. I peer over my shoulder at him and he gazes at me sadly. He saunters protectively over to me, still locking me in his gaze. 

"Wow..." he says, sounding slightly deflated. He sits behind me on the bed after I gather the duvet at my ankles. He slips his hand into mine and draws me closer to him.

He kisses me gently- passionately as if trying to restore me by sharing himself with me. He lips trail down my neck and down to my back where his kisses softly graze over my skin... Over my bruises.

_________________________________________________________________

--J.

Murphy & Sigmund: Remember the Bullet Hole

"Do you remember the bullet hole, Murph?" Sigmund asked after taking a massive bite of his heavily foil-wrapped tuna melt. Murphy was sitting on the park bench beside him, silently picking at the green paint that was pulling back from the metal rungs beneath."Murphy?" Sigmund said slowly after he finally swallowed. Murphy frowned at his friend's odd question but looked back at him and nodded contemplatively and then proceeded to wring his hands feverishly. "Don't call me Murph," he then said rather hotly. "...Sig."

"Why are you doing this to me, Murphy!?" Nila yelled across her two bedroom, one bathroom apartment. Sigmund stood frozen in the middle of the tiny kitchen next to a livid Murphy Jenkins. A few seconds later a loud crash came from the main bedroom - the sound of a glass-to-wall collision. "Damn it Nila!" Murphy spat as he pushed himself up onto the kitchen counter. "Get her out here before I come in there and drag you both out!" There was silence for a moment more and Murphy sat angrily - his knuckles paling as he clenched his meaty fists - while his best friend, Sigmund Isaiah stood timidly against the refrigerator and eyed the floor so as not to have to witness the scene. Nila re-entered, there were a series of small bright red cuts on her hands,and behind came a little girl who looked exactly like her but had hair like Murphy's- soft chocolatey-brown in large, wafting curls. She was clutching a tattered teddy bear against her chest and, just like Sigmund, she dared not lift her gaze from the ground beneath her.

"Bye Nila," Sigmund said softly as he walked out of the apartment following Murphy who was now holding the sobbing little girl. "Rot in hell, Sig!" she cried as she slammed the door after them.

"What did I tell you about talking to her, man?" Murphy muttered bitterly as they braved the creaking elevator. 

"I... I can't help it... I'm sorry Murphy. Ms Nila is-"

"Don't call her that," Murphy blurted out. "Don't even say her name if that can be helped... The kid will forget her easier that way... Maybe I will too." Sigmund made no response and looked down at 'the kid'- her eyes were fixed glassily to those of her teddy bear.

"She's not eating, Sigmund..." Murphy called from the basement in Sigmund's one-storey house where he had been temporarily living. The wooden stairs from the main house creaked and spewed dust under the weight of Sigmund's feet as he walked down with a pudding cup and teaspoon in his left hand. "Here," he said tiredly and thrust it at the girl who sat, terrified, in Murphy's scathing glare. She slowly peeled back the lid of the pudding cup and began eating. "How did you do that?" Murphy whispered in astonishment. "Pudding was the first thing I tried!"

"Murph is mean," the little voice unexpectedly responded. The two men stared down at her as she looked up at them - her big dark eyes were wide and innocent. Murphy bent down slowly, rested on his haunches and placed his hands on his knees before asking, "What did you say, baby girl?"

"Murph is mean," she replied- a little more loudly this time.

"And who told you that?"

"Momma."

Murphy raised his eyebrows and stood up sharply. He grabbed his leather jacket from a nearby chair and shrugged it on hastily and began to make his way up the stairs. "Look after her!" he shouted back at Sigmund. 

"Where you goin'?" Sigmund called after him.

"I'm going to kill the cocaine whore that made my daughter hate me!"

Murphy stood beside his sleeping daughter, snugly tucked up in an old blanket on the nearly-broken couch in the basement. He ran his tongue over his teeth and tapped his foot softly but impatiently as he waited for Sigmund. A few moments later, Sigmund returned to the basement with Murphy's leather jacket. "The blood?" Murphy whispered - not taking his eyes off of his daughter.

"Gone," Sigmund mumbled. Murphy nodded and sighed, circling the room. He stopped suddenly and bit his lip. "What is it?" Sigmund asked. "I need to talk a walk," Murphy replied.

So they sat in the early hours of the morning on a bench in a park around the corner from Sigmund's house. Murphy with his cigarettes and Sigmund with his giant tuna melt. "Worth it?" Sigmund asked bitterly. Murphy frowned and glared at Sigmund. "Every bullet," he hissed. 

"How many?" Sigmund enquired carefully.

"One for every day of my life that she killed me on the inside."

Insignificant Troubles

He's always on my mind. As much as I can't stand to admit that he's there- he is. What is it about this one person that has got me so spellbound? What is it with me and being attracted to those who I cannot have? Why... Just go away.

I don't know why my sole desire is to make him happy. It's not like he's asking me to either. He doesn't want me to make him happy - he wants Her to... So there's no way I could ever. However, something in my ridiculous and messed up mind has caused me to subconsciously accept it as a challenge. My desire to please seems to be heightened merely because I can't handle rejection in any way other than trying to prove everyone wrong.

This is the part of the process where I usually end up choking the life out of whatever friendship I currently have. I'm going to become clingy, obsessive and desperate... Nothing too out of the ordinary, right? Sigh. 

Every pitiful step has actually been calculated, quantified. It's all clinical... which is saddening seeing that I claim that I can't stop what I do. The advantage of a science is that it has a formula, can be modified, enhanced... Right? Then I ask the question: Why can I not change my process especially since I've seen it fail ever so many times?

The strangeness continues in that I actually know how he feels about me. I know that there's nothing more to assume and no pathetic dream or fantasy to cling to. My feelings seem to have remained unchanged no matter how much badgering my mind, heart and body have had to take since knowing the truth. It is something that has proven to be impossible to manually alter. I can only hope that time will soothe the wounds and rid my self of the image and idea that is him.

I'm rather ridiculous. I shouldn't be spending so much time on this... yet here I am - silently sobbing over a bruised ego, blogging away my insignificant troubles with the soothing sound of John Mayer's "Slow Dancing in a Burning Room" consoling my ears. All this time and energy spent on this one person when I should really be asking: "Is he worth it?" I want to say that he is but I know deep down he probably isn't because if he was... I would hope that I would mean a bit more to him.

As much as I want him to be- he's not. He's perfectly lovely, brilliant and gorgeous but I know in my soul that I'm wasting my time, energy and attention. I know that no matter what I do, I'm not going to get very far. Perhaps he'd be worth my time if I were worth his.

Drink to that.

--J.

Get Them To New York

Meet Ashleigh and Rachel... Two best friends from Cape Town. They are the biggest One Direction fans in South Africa!

Below is a link showing a video posted by the dynamic duo in response to a competition held by a local Cape Town radio station, Kfm,in which the search was held for South Africa's biggest One Direction fans. Unfortunately, they didn't win the competition that would've taken them to New York to see One Direction perform. 

Check it out:  Why They Love One Direction

Share, tweet, blog... Whatever... These girls are amazing and deserve to see One Direction in New York!

Teacups, why don't we see if we can get them there? Or at least make a lot of noise for them?

Use the hashtags: #Biggest1DFansSA ; #AshleighAndRachelToNY1D

Rachel (left) dressed as Harry Styles and Ashleigh (right) dressed as Zayn Malik. They've taken 'fan' to a whole new level... and gender! ;)

Cheers! <3

--J.

I Don't Believe...

He's in love with a dancer... She's a water baby with skin as pale as the moon. I love to dance but I'm not a dancer and my skin isn't pale like the moon. I'm a water baby but he doesn't know that because I won't let him see me be in love with anything... Because then he might see that I'm in love with him. I can't let him see that because I don't believe in love... And he might just change my mind. 

I don't want my mind to be changed because I can't stand to love alone again. They say it is better to have lost and loved than never to have loved at all... It is worse to have loved alone than to never have loved at all. I don't love him because if I did, he would hate me and I would be left lonely... Lonely and loving the man who changed my mind.

Even if I did love him, how would I know? Would he make me happy just by saying hello in that ridiculously mesmerising voice of his with his head cocked to one side like he was curios about me? Would I want to spend every waking minute of my incredibly dull day with him even if we did absolutely nothing? What would I do... if I was in love with you?

You're in love with perfection... So loving you would be stupid because I can't compete with that no matter how hard I wished to try. I've been trying all my life to be her... even before I met you. I suppose I had forgotten just how much I have wanted to be her up until I realised how you still continue to feel about her. Who am I to think that I would ever be good enough when standing in the shadow of the world's most perfect person. It's a good thing that you don't make me happy, it's a good thing I don't feel anything for you at all.

If I felt something - anything at all- it would hurt to deny it, it would hurt to push aside my feelings for the sake of my own safety. I would feel crushed just for not being able to try to tell you how I feel... The answer is simple and the truth is unavoidable. If I felt something for you, it would hurt knowing that you'd never like or love me and that I'd never be good enough for you... But I won't get hurt because I don't feel anything... and because I don't believe in love.

When I say I don't believe in love, I mean the emotion... I believe in the choice to love but I don't believe it occurs on its own. So I will never love you because I will never choose to... Because loving you means getting hurt... And I can't do that again. I can't risk it and I won't because I don't want to waste my life being sad any more. Believing in the existence of love as an emotion would require me to accept the fact that I could get hurt without having chosen my own emotional responses. I refuse to relinquish control over my life, over my body... Especially to you.

If I came to love you and if you controlled me... That would be the end of me. I wouldn't survive your inevitable leaving... I wouldn't be able to pick myself up and move on. My heart has been broken too many times and for unnecessary reasons so now any reason or person that would cause my heart to break again has already been deemed unnecessary. It's good that I don't feel a thing...

... And that I don't believe in love.

--J.

You'll Never Know

Do you remember what it used to be like when we were friends, when we spoke, when we recognised each other's existence? I remember everything because that's just how I am - a gift or a curse. You changed me... probably more so than anyone else that I've ever known as. I can't exactly say whether that change is a positive one. The thing is that, you'll never know because you don't know me any more. You'll never know what I became because of you.

I met you in grade 8. You immediately intrigued me... because you were somehow very weirdly interesting. I remember sitting in our all-girl Maths class and listening to your goofy laughter as you playfully teased our teacher. I remember how long your hair used to be... and how you always, ALWAYS wore pants instead of a dress or skirt. I wanted to be your friend from the moment I first heard you speak... because you were strange (a good kind of strange but strange all the same). You were,in a sense, a breath of fresh air- sharp, crisp, cool and like the kind that, as it leaves one's lips, turns to mist... Mysterious.

For some unknown reason I got my wish. We became friends... and oh what a joy that was while it lasted. No my darling, I'm not being sarcastic - it was a very good ride and I appreciate the opportunity. I remember having expectations of the type of friendship we'd have because of how you treated other people... but you've never been one to do anything that is expected. You didn't creep into my heart; you just walked in one day and claimed it... There was a time when you were all I had because of highly I thought of you. I didn't want anything else other than your friendship. You began to go through things and changed because of the lessons you were learning and the discoveries you were making about yourself but none of that changed how much I adored you. I knew that I couldn't stand to lose you.

I remember when you first told me you were in love with a girl... I didn't believe you at first... I don't know. I thought you were joking. You had been in a weird contemplative mood the whole day and I was asking you questions about why you were breaking up with your boyfriend. We were in English... The bell rang for the end of the lesson and you got up to walk out. Without really looking at me you said, "Because I'm in love with a girl". You laughed nervously - weakly. I suppose I thought it was a joke because I wasn't too sure what to do with the information you had suddenly indirectly asked me to process. In my mind, at the time... I felt as though my heart had just sunk into my feet.

All my life, having been raised in a family richly steeped in Christian values and religion, I had believed that homosexuality was wrong. I'm not actually sure where I stand on the topic as of now. I think I have so much more to think about when it comes to it because it's not as straight forward as one might think. I can personally understand why the Bible says what it does about homosexuality but on the other hand I don't agree with society's judgement of homosexual people because who are we to judge anyone or condemn those we have no right to condemn. I think that perhaps by being your friend I learnt how to think about difficult things like that and I was able to question things that I had always previously believed or thought just because that was how I had been raised. I learnt that I could formulate my own opinions and also... I learnt that it was okay to be confused. 

I know you remember how I cried in Maths in grade 10. What is it with me and Maths? I cried a lot in Maths in grade 10. I remember 'crying for your soul'and how you didn't quite know what to do. I just remember you timidly put your hand on my back but you couldn't look me in the eye until I had recovered. You told me you never knew what to do when people cried - that you felt awkwardly useless. I remember later in the year how I cried because you hurt me. I remember how it felt like you were leaving me - abandoning me almost for some girl that you liked... a lot. I don't quite know what you did or what happened that day. I just remember crying and feeling so incredibly angry and exhausted at the same time. I remember hugging you - clutching you... and telling you that I hated you. In that moment, I really did hate you. I was so incredibly angry at you for hurting me but I was angrier at the fact that I couldn't love you any less despite the fact that you had made me feel that way. 

I remember the first time I cut myself... I was embarrassed by it and I had sworn to never do it again. I remember the first time you saw it... You didn't react like everybody else did. You seemed to understand. You didn't look at me like I was insane. You were calm when you asked me why I did it and what I did it with. I remember that I didn't feel like such a freak but I also remember that I was not intending to do something like that ever again.

There was a time where I began to push you religiously... I kept on bringing up the homosexuality thing and you started to retreat from me. You told me that I was only pushing you away. I hated that thought. I couldn't bare the idea that I might not have you in my life because of something that I did. So I stopped trying to change you and instead I tried to accept you in every and any way... So I encouraged you in everything - even in the things that were bad for you. You used to cut yourself and instead of telling you not to do it any more, I sort of made you think it was okay I suppose. In an attempt to understand you and to somehow be of a better support, I started cutting more... in a response to everything in life really. I began to get addicted to it and I guess that I always expected you to understand me for it or to at least be impassive about it. It wouldn't be fair for me to blame you for the addiction that I have struggled with since that time... because it isn't your fault. It really isn't at all and I'm not blaming you for my current frame of mind of the frame of mind I held back then either because my choices are my own and the same can be said for the consequences thereof.

For a while, I really didn't quite understand why you suddenly didn't want to be my friend at all any more. I suppose I know more of your reasoning now than at first but my understanding hasn't arrived yet. I will always question your decision and similarly I will question myself as to why I thought that harming myself would allow me to be able to be strong for you and support you. I've changed so much in an attempt to shake an addiction that I never imagined having... I've changed so much so as not to push away other people who are close to me like I suppose I did to you. 

It's amazing how much we've both changed within the space of about a year. I'm glad that you're happy now... because that's more than I managed to give you. I'm happy for the change that's made you happy.

I thank you for the lessons, I thank you for the tough love or rather the no love that shaped me, I thank you for changing me from that first minute in grade 8 Maths to the final moments of our Matric school year... I thank you for signing my shirt on the day before valedictory - short and sweet as always but nonetheless meaningful.

You... with you super short hair, the grey school skirt you actually chose to wear up until our last day of high school, the piercings that scare my mother but the same soul.

Oh, you'll never know what I've become because of you.

--J.

Restless Guilt

I had an amazing night. Bliss and laughter were gently resting in my hands while my thoughts gently buzzed and wafted around in my mind. Thoughts go a wry at times and they certainly did last night.I managed to ruin one of the most special nights I've had in a matter of minutes with nothing other than a few careless words and an overly-used cell phone.

It's funny how it is possible for one thought, one memory and one expectation, when applied with the appropriate urgency and senselessness,can stick and overwhelm one's mind. It's like a disease, a means of blinding one to all reason and denying any possible grasp of logic. Hence my anger at my stupidity. I feel like I've hurt two people very dear to me... I feel like I've used them in attempt to satisfy my selfish expectations and it's left me sick to my stomach.

Needless to say that I made use of certain opportunities afforded to me by my new-founded adulthood... it was an excuse. A means to be forgiven or at least understood for the stupid decisions I could've possibly made. I used it as a vessel because I'm a coward and I needed the liquid courage to continue to be selfish in my physical neediness. All it did was make my mind reel, all it did was make me say things that I know regret.

I don't know what it is about me or how I think when it comes to guys. I suppose that I confuse strong attraction with actually having feelings for someone. If that is the case, I have only truly liked very few guys. In a way I've sort of developed a method of sabotaging myself by convincing myself that I have feelings for people who I am genuinely just merely attracted to and who, at the same time, are nice to me. I cringe at the fact that I may be as shallow as the poisonous society I claim to despise.

I had hinged the quality of my night's experience on the singular  expectation of one thing. A kiss. I had my first kiss last year on my 17th birthday - needless to say it was magical. It was also addictive and I miss thee feelings associated with it... Therefore stemmed the deeply-rooted desire to kissed, once again, on my birthday this year. 

I was luckily enough to be in the company of two fantastic friends of mine who I happen to be attracted to. Because of the way my mind works, I claim to like them as more than friends. The truth is that I don't and it turns out that I am not as scandalous as I wish I could be. I just really enjoy spending time with each of them... they're both exciting somehow and different and when I'm with either of them, I don't take life so seriously for a change and it's just so much easier to have fun. However, as a result of my stupidity and lack of better judgement,those two guys probably want anything to do with me for the next little while. I don't exactly blame them.

I couldn't fall asleep last night- a mixture of guilt and that notorious liquid courage I alluded to earlier. I lay awake thinking about the stupid things I had said along with the ignored apologies that followed directly after. I eventually fell asleep only to wake up at 4AM. The next sleepless hour consisted of restless re-positioning and more frantic thinking and guilt... accompanied by that sickening, aching feeling still residing in my chest.

The want of one stupid kiss...