Monthly Archives: February 2013

I spend 6 hours a day learning how to answer questions.

In fact, I’ve been learning how to answer questions for over 3/4s of my entire existence.


And yet; the only answers that I ever seem to need, the ones that threaten to determine the  pathway of my life, I can never find. Not that it’s necessarily a matter of searching…

What use is knowing that there are 180 degrees in a triangle when the love of your life wont ever know how you feel.

Sure, I know that E = MC² but I don’t know how people cope with deaths of loved ones.

And the area of a circle will always equal Pi x Diameter, but there are people in the world who wont always have life’s basic necessities .. water, food security.

I suppose there just isn’t a formula to work out humanity’s problems.

Which is a shame since I think that I’m long overdue a formula book to life.

Basket with Fruit


I seem to be living almost entirely for my dreams lately; sleeping has become my favourite time of the day.

Dreams have always subconsciously affected me far more than they should. A few years ago I dreamt that I hugged a particular boy (for that is what he was at the time) and this hug was apparently so magnificent that for months I was convinced that he was the love of my life. Seriously.  Haha.

As much as I’d like to say that this sort of tomfoolery is exclusive only to my younger years, last night my dream has seemed to once again lured my sense into that darkened ally of nonsense.

In the aforementioned dream, a platonic friend of mine asked me to be his girlfriend and I seemed to be more than happy to accept his surprising offer. This is of course a standard type of dream that my head conjures up frequently. Except, what was most alarming to me was how gutted I was when I woke up; when I realised that it was just my subconscious playing weird and wonderful tricks on my mind.

And so it begins.

(Damn my short-lived freedom from infatuation!)


Today I was finally able to get my life back.

Yet it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

Because the worst part of it all wasn’t the time wasted; those endless hours of panic, pining and sleepless nights.

It wasn’t even realising that there’s still something in me which loves you, which wishes above all else that none of this had to happen and how that wont change;  at least, not for a long time.

It wasn’t even all the money, all the pain or how I got drenched.

It was the fact that when I needed help the most, though I rarely ask for it, I received none.

I was Frodo without  Sam.

But luckily the adventure doesn’t end here.


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