27/03/2010

Today I went for a walk. I must admit I do love the english countryside. It’s beautiful and when the country air just hits you  feel refreshed. My initial plan was to go to a very famous flower garden that I’ve been to once before…about two years ago but I got lost on the way there, so I decided to take a random wander. As much as I enjoyed this little walk, I was left very nostalgic. Two years ago I was living in a house of three men. One of them grew very close to me. I had just started uni, my depression was spiralling out of control, I was having difficulties keeping up with my course e.t.c and there he was. We use to sit and talk about everything: politics, relationships, cooking, world cultures. Just about everything. Every night we sat in the living room talking and laughing, sometimes watching the occasional movie on his laptop. Our house did not have any TV and the living room window directly faced a viaduct. He said he liked it that way. He said it made us more social. We could sit and talk to each other. I agreed despite my incurable addiction to the box. I loved everything about him. His hair (which he was growing out), his accent (He was from Poland), his hands, his beard (when he shaved I used to grab him from behind by the neck and pretend to be playing around, when all I wanted to do was feel the roughness of his beard on my hand). I can honestly say that this was (still is) the only man I had ever been close to in my life. The only man who I got along with. Ever. He was single and it was his last year of uni in UK. I was in  a long distance relationship. I was also naïve.  He started flirting with me. I flirted back  but I was always scared of things getting out of hand. I did not want to be unfaithful even though doubts about the relationship I was in had begun kicking in long before things got intense with this guy (I’ll call him P). P would come  home from uni everyday and either call out my name to see if I’m home and find out how I was doing, this would then be followed by him making me a cup of  tea and us sitting down for a chat, or upon seeing me in the living room  he would call out jokingly “Honey, I’m home.” We would laugh together. I used to sit across him sometimes in the house and he would look at me and I would feel as if  I was naked before him. Sometimes we would talk and then he would stop and look at me with those eyes. It got to a point where it was so intense and the only thing I could do was rush home to him. He was all I kept thinking about. I wanted him to make love to me. I looked at his hands and imagined how they’d feel on my body. I started deliberately doing things  so that I could touch him. I commented about his hair and  touched it. He did this too.

I remember one day we were at home with the other guys talking and laughing. It was really late. I said I was sleepy but didn’t want to go to bed. He joked and said that I must go to bed, because I was a child (he was six years older than me). I laughed and messed about and before I knew it he grabbed me by my waist and carried me upside down on his shoulders taking me to bed. I started screaming and laughing all the way. I’m not sure whether it was the intense feeling of pleasure I was getting from his hands on my waist and partly on my back or  the feeling of the house spinning as we got upstairs. At the door to my room I wanted and hoped he would come in. He put me down and as he did this, our bodies came together like we were hugging. I was going crazy inside. He patted me telling me to go and sleep and kissed me on my leg (random I know, he was very playful) I went to bed very happy. We went for walks together. We were together all the time. He told me about his work (he was  a design student) he told me about how since coming to UK he had confidence issues but he was getting better. We really spent a lot of time together. The day that he knew I had a boyfriend, he went a bit silent on me. I understood. Things again picked up but after many months the sexual tension took a toll on us. He started going cold on me. I did too, I guess as a form of payback. We had a last train journey together during the end of the winter term. I didn’t see him for a month, when we got back he kissed me on my cheek routine-like, a day later he told me he met someone. He told me as a matter of fact, like you would tell a friend in passing. He was on his phone texting when told me. He was so calm when he did it.

“We were supposed to have started something,” he said and smiled smugly.

“I’m just sending her a text. Maybe I’ll go to see her tonight,”

My heart sank. I sat there looking at him and all I could think of was how handsome he was. It should have been me. I should have been that girl he was texting. I should have been the one he was about to start something with. I just nodded, wished him luck and left him there. Days later he brought her home, they had dinner and went out. He brought her home some more. At this point he was ignoring me point-blank. Sometime he didn’t even say hi to me. I felt as if he was doing this just to spite me. He seemed to be overdoing things when she was around. The way they laughed. They way he talked (loudly) as if to  let me know what exactly was going on. I was so hurt. Really hurt. I can’t even begin to explain. Add this to the fact that at that time I badly wanted out of the relationship I was in.

The first time he brought her home and took her to his room (which was adjacent to mine) to have sex I cried. I cried so much I was taken by surprise. They were laughing and kissing loudly. I wanted to be that girl. Over time I came to learn that he had another girl in Poland. I didn’t know how this was working but he talked about it to the other guys in the house and somehow it felt as if he was in some sort of understanding with this girl he brought around. I don’t know whether the girl in Poland also had an understanding with him. It was all so confusing. I did sometimes have a slight feeling of relief whenever I thought about this. As if this girl had nothing on me, afterall she wasn’t the only one having him. My feelings for him never changed but we had stopped talking now. One day while everyone was in the house, he randomly came to the house and asked everyone to go for a walk with him and this girl, and another friend of his from Poland. I reluctantly said yes. We walked for a long time, got lost a long the way until we  finally got to this garden.

I retraced this path today. I walked along the quiet roads. Looked at all the places, flowers. Nothing has changed. They are just as they were when we were there.  I regret not taking the chance with P. I never stop thinking of what might have been. On the other hand I keep telling myself, maybe I would have ben hurt. On the walk we had I remember even though we hadn’t talked for sometime, he took a picture of me and showed it to everyone around. He said I looked nice. The girl looked at it and said yeah. I guess she just wanted to be polite. On the way back as I walked slowly behind, he urged me playfully to move faster. I don’t know maybe he missed me. Maybe he was punishing me for not giving him a chance. We went to a pub and I sat there with the others as he cuddled with the girl and they talked about how they didn’t sleep the previous night because they were busy with each other. I wanted to scream. We got back home and it was back to not talking to each other. I remember the last time I saw him. It was end of term. I was leaving to go see my parents, he was leaving for his graduation. A friend of his from Poland had come for the graduation and there was a lot of activity going on. He was smart in his black trousers and cream shirt adjusting his tie. He just came downstairs, wished me well in my life and went back upstairs to continue getting ready. Just like that, he was out of my life.

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11/03/2010

I’m thinking about not attending the graduation ceremony this summer. For several reasons. First, I just remembered an event that the family attended and my dad was really grumpy and uninspiring. I will not have that. I will not have other people see me in that situation. Second, I want to look my best at least for once in my three years in this place, but that seems very impossible. I wanted to save money to buy a nice summer dress and some nice heels but that too is not feasible because I have to save money for some other stuff that needs doing this summer, and as if I need to mention it, I don’t have a lot of money in the first place to save from. Third, I don’t have any friends, so while everyone will be catching up and being all jovial, I will just be standing there chatting to my parents, or rather just my mum if my dad happens to be in one of those moods. I can’t do that. I don’t want to put myself through that. I’ve decided this year it’s about striving for the best, if I can’t have the best, then I wont bother. I’ve always felt like I don’t fit in with the crowd at my uni. Obviously, due to all the things that I lack, material wise of course, otherwise what else? So, I will not let this fact be further illustrated on that day. The most important thing for me now is to complete my degree and pass. I want to begin a new phase of my life as soon as possible. I don’t care about anything else.

05/03/2010

I’ve been very busy in the past few  two days working on my project. I needed this to keep myself from thinking about how much I’m going to miss Fish come April. We talked yesterday and I felt at ease because it didn’t feel like it was the end after all. He’s taught me the importance of being a perfectionist. Of wanting the best. I’m going to strive for that. My uni work seems to be going well if not a tad bit slow. I don’t know what it is with people in my university but no one seems to want to help. They are cocooned in their little cliques and if they don’t know you, they just won’t help. It’s unbelievable how frustrating this is, especially for a course like mine where working on a practical project, no matter how suited to an individual it is, one needs to have a little help here and there. I’ve just had about enough of it and I can’t wait to graduate. I have my fingers crossed that anyone I approach for help, will at least do so. I need a good grade because I really, in the literal sense can not afford to fail. I just need a degree to able to even at best hope for a different life from what I have right now.

Which brings me to something else: money. I’ve come to that point in my life where when I hear anyone say that money can not buy you happiness I get this sudden animalistic urge to smack them. That is a lie. Money can buy you happiness, fuck what you heard. I’m living proof. If you have money, you buy things that you love, you go to places you love. Subsequently, if you love something  that means it makes you happy. You a re happy. It’s as simple as that and I don’t want anyone telling me otherwise. In fact I’m starting to believe it’s only rich people who say this to poor people to keep them in their place. I will not be one of those poor people. I don’t want to be obscenely rich. I just want a decent life. Ugh. I hate being poor. Right now for instance I’m contemplating if I’ll have enough money to buy materials for my project. It’s ludicrous. There are bills coming my way in about two weeks. I have food to think of. This is not the kind of life anyone should be living and I don’t believe that anyone can be happy in my situation, I don’t care what explanations they give.

So, I’m going to bed hoping to wake up very early tomorrow so I can bury myself in work to prevent me from thinking about my life or money for that matter. My fridge is empty  and I’m not even sure I’m going to have a single proper meal tomorrow. My bank account, well I have £0.33 in balance.

15/12/2009

I’m starting to appreciate the joys of daytime TV, especially after the past X Factor-saturated weekend. I had to painfully sit through the cheese fest that was the finale. I hate that program, but my family just can’t get enough of it. I’m glad I never watched a single episode before this. In fact, for the past three months or so I haven’t been watching any TV. Maybe that’s why I’m spending the early days of my holiday permanently perched on the sofa devouring everything the box has to offer.

Yesterday, I attended a family member’s graduation ceremony in London. It was amazing. Everyone was out and about with their families and friends, beaming with pride. All I could think of during the ceremony was ‘It’s me next’. In a few months time, it will be me…and then what? Sigh.

And then…well…so many things.

I’ve already started planning on going away somewhere. Try a new life in a different country. Catch a break. I’m looking at different options at the moment. My view is: I’m still young. I can do anything with my life. Anything I want, and if I’m getting fed up with life here, why not challenge myself and go somewhere different? It’s a big world out there. I’m starting two foreign language lessons at the end of week. I hope it’s for the best.

The Italian was right.

“Get out of there and travel bella. See the world.”