Monday, 13 October 2008

A carriage from a pumpkin and paradise on crumbled earth.

If you ever felt sad it would be because of the sadness in the world. It would be about big things. You've got a good view of yourself; brilliant but scary, well, I don't know if you agree with the brilliant bit but you wouldn't obsess over it; you just think, I'm not brilliant, I'll look to other people instead of in. I wish I could be like that. I loved how you asked, why, why am I brilliant, with a little pause when I couldn't see your face in the dark, a why-were-they-saying-that-you're-surely-making-up-stories-you-tricksy-journalist. If I don't think I'm ace I wonder why anyone would want to be around me and I always think I'm falling short of some goal; I'm not authentic and caring and driven like you, and my friend, I'm not sarcastic and witty like she of the Bovine, I'm not beautiful or thin or particularly remarkable in any way. I'm not the funniest. I'm not the best. I want to be. I don't really think that people respect me, but maybe that's because I need to respect other people. I'm awkward and silly and narcissistic, and I always do or say the wrong thing out of all the things that could be said or done. I'm wishy washy and far too malleable to what people think of me, and that's stopping me from being the person I want to be. But somehow you don't seem to mind too much. You'd not write this about yourself, would you? You're the best without wanting to be. You just want to make the world better, and if it's good for you so be it, if it's bad then that's fine too. I wish I knew what you thought of me, properly thought. If I could have anything I'd love a list of the things you think about me.

But then, I want to look into you. I want to know funny things you did as a child, and what your middle name is, and whether you were good at sports or if you hated them and what you loved about school and what your nickname in the playground was and to see old pictures of you when you were my age, and were you addicted to something because of how you are about it now, or was it parental problematics, alcoholics maybe? How many pillows you sleep with and if you snore and when you started drinking coffee and what your children are doing now and how often you talk to them and what happened to their dad, though that's prying. It's all sticking my nose in. But I want to know all about you dear.

You said tonight, when you've been in hospital for a bit... so have you been into hospital? What for? Children, probably, but then something else too, I think, from how you said it. Where's the scar? There's a scar on your wrist, just one, you talked about self harming and I just thought, no, she couldn't possibly, no no no. Probably a burn from one of those huge saucepans.

I'd like to be the one you talked to about it. I'd like to be the one that gives you something, I want to give you things, I want to shower you with kindness and wrap you in affection, but that's stifling. I'd like to give you a penny encased in glass, like a paperweight. I'd like to give you a load of sketches of the House and you and some poems as well, good ones, though I don't know which are and aren't good. I'd like to give you books and cakes and things I've made and a hand knitted scarf, though I can't knit. I'd like to put on a play for you, just for you, just to show you, I'd like to sing you a song if my voice isn't too annoying. I'd like to show you some new music I think you'd like. Neutral Milk Hotel and Beirut and India Arie and maybe Aretha Franklin, though you know her. All of these things I want to festoon you with that are of no use to you, or that you wouldn't like. They're all little bits of myself, that's why I'm so pleased that you liked the posters, it's because I'm appliqueing bits of myself to you, though you don't see it that way. Donating things that I like, or sticking them to you? I know what's nicer but I don't know which I'm doing because I know I am jealous and vindictive sometimes... You need what anyone could provide, and with more sense than me, a good capable pair of hands, and I can be that, just about... If this was the other way round, you feeling everything and me feeling nothing, you'd expel it by working harder at the things you want to work at, you'd not speak to me till it was out of your system, you wouldn't want to expunge yourself onto me like I'm doing onto you, you'd just be happy for me to have anyone, or someone. You'd try to make me happy with someone else.

I want to talk to you about what I should do. What would you think about theatre school or journalism or illustrating or going abroad? I think you'd say go abroad. I can do the rest anytime, anytime, or no, you'd say do what you think is right. You'd give me good advice. You're someone that's never irritating. How do you manage that? I want to be one of those people. Those sure-footed people that never make a mistake and come out with egg on their face, I seem to be the opposite category, always silly and stupid and not catching on fast enough.

I can imagine you lying awake worrying. I would say to you, you are helping, lots and lots, darling, you need to leave some of yourself there as well. I want to glide into a single breath, and take you soft in my arms and mould to your shape for you to find comfort in. You might feel guilty because you had me and others have noone, but there's another thing neither of us can help, and even if it's a scenario that never comes true you certainly deserve someone. That's what I want. It won't happen, but it's ludicrous. I live in hope. I have an image of the two of us at Christmas, round her wood burner. I'd read to you and you'd read to me and we'd eat something and fall asleep wrapped round each other. Maybe we'd go on a walk. We'd swap hats and dance round frosted streets like Fred Astaire and walk in mittened silence, happy with each other. People would think, oh, there goes a boy and his Mum. We'd know different.

Food today:

an apple-30
curry-400
a wispa-210
chocolate-200
pasta and 3 pcs garlic bread-400
ice cream-150

and I did walk a lot today. So it's.. 1400. I walked three miles. Skipped, walked, ran... I do that a lot when I'm listening to music.

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