Sometimes its hard to follows others orders, its even harder to follow your own.

If someone has an almost paranormal ‘hold’ over you and you’re addicted to kissing, its alright isn’t it?

I promised myself I would never go there again with him. I mean, I made myself 100% vulnerable to him, something I rarely, if ever do. He disregarded it completely and pissed off with some other girl. Yet here I am, as soon as the opportunity arises, inviting him over to ‘chill’. I’m not complaining about ‘chilling’ (not complaining at all), but I guess I’m just disappointed with myself. However, we did discuss what happened and he apologised; its easy to say sorry and not mean it right, especially when you know thats what they want to hear and you’re going to get something out of it. He, of course, had to  abruptly leave once he was finished, so to speak, but promised he’d make it up to me and visit Thursday. I guess we shall see what happens then, if it even happens. Maybe he heard the hurt in my voice and realised what he had done, maybe but probably not.

Is the past a direct correlation to the future?

Julia Margaret Cameron, Gareth and Lynette, from her series of photographic illustrations for Tennyson’s Idylls of the King

There has been one boy, and one boy only that has changed my life; for the better or worse, I am yet to decide. He was my first everything, except my first love. He was the first one to ruin the notion of love for me, perhaps not for forever, but for a seemingly long time.

We were one of a kind, children knowing too much of death and struggle in a world where ignorance is bliss. I’d like to think that it was fate that brought us together, he was a test to see how much I could take, a ladder to help me grow and a plague to see if I could withstand all that was thrown at me.

Throughout the years there were periods from which we talked consistently and then nothing at all. When we did not speak, I felt as though something was missing. Born again Christians like to believe that God was missing from their life and now they are complete. I’d like to think of him in that respect. Not a god like figure as I did not unjustly idolise him, but the idea still relays onto the scene.  He did not treat me well, not as well as I would of liked to have been treated, but there was something mesmerising about him. I believe it as his eyes, they had a power over me. With just one look I was gone, like a gunshot to the brain; dead, yet so alive.  It was like that with him, he held the capacity to determine my happiness, my life and my emotional wellbeing.

I was lucky when I finally escaped from his web, not that he realised at all that I had escaped or that he had a web. I was meaningless to him, a simple play toy. That is the fact, the fact that hurts the most.