clinging to the wreckage

During the build up to departure everyone expresses deep regret and sadness that you are leaving. Morbidly they tell you how much you will be missed and how desperate they are to say farewell over drinks or dinner. But the final days arrive and no one is anywhere to be seen. The ones whom you really love are silent and distant. Some romantic stirring deep within tries to convince you that they are staying away to protect themselves from the final goodbye but the logic of your mind reminds you that it is simply because they have better things to do and that the hope springing from your loneliness is meaningless against the brutal grind of daily reality. Survival destroys hope... and mundane existence destroys all that is beautiful and poetic.

I wrote you a letter that I could not give to you. Another letter to add to the pile as I watch you walk away for the last time. Tears in eyes surprise us both and I realise what it is that I am losing. Perhaps you do too but I can’t be certain of that. When I returned to England all those years ago I dreamt of finding the likes of you… and when I did I couldn’t hold on. Now I am walking away but there was nothing I could do, you had made your decision on that day so many years ago and I was not the one.

It was with trepidation that I picked up Morrissey’s Autobiography . I feared that it might be excessively petulant or perhaps, dare I even say it, poorly written. However, as it turns out, the book is a wonderful work of art with a fine poetic prose throughout punctuated with Morrissey’s customary turn of phrase in which he inverts the expected and surprises us in the most delightful of ways. The tale weaves us through a wide variety of emotions and through the use of the present tense we are forced to feel every one of them along the way with Morrissey.  This book made me grateful to have recently become a train commuter because the 45 minutes of travel each morning and again each evening gave me the time to devour the pages. I found myself sitting at work and counting down the moments to that point at which I would once more be able to open the book and lose myself in the life of Morrissey. A wonderful read containing some valuable life lessons. ‘I can see through

I know no one reads this blog… and I am probably grateful of that fact. It is despairing mostly… possibly bordering on pathetic in the way I cling to or long for those who no longer care about me (or never have). And I know that the story is old but (yes, you guessed it) it must go on. I worry about you. I worry that the cruel blows life sometimes inflicts may be affecting you deeply and that you simply suffer on in silence. Your beautiful and gentle self rocked within. It saddens me to see someone so kind and gentle suffering. I also know that I offer you little other than disturbance and therefore I have backed away to leave you in peace… but I am here… and I care more than you could know.

After a very difficult week, this weekend has been one of introspection and self-analysis. It has been a good weekend and I feel strong and happy to be alive and to be single. I love to meet many different people and to have the freedom to talk to them as and when I like and to be able to consider any option that is available… not in a sexual or relationship sense, but in a sense that I can go out at any time to any place, I can travel anywhere and go with whom I please. I am a natural flirt and it can get me into trouble. Therefore, being single, it is pleasing to be able to flirt freely and not worry about it.             It’s simply pathetic to continue pining for the one who already has a family and is terrified of disturbing that. I change from being an exciting bond to being a terrifying threat within a period of weeks. This threat is love. Fortunately I do realise that love is transient and that relationships are sterile. I long for the incredible excitement of the fi

I really am in trouble. You're distancing yourself more each day and as I sit here on this flight to Madrid I am pining for you. I think of your face, your voice, your hands, and I smile involuntarily. There is no hope and yet I dream on and long for you. I will be in Madrid for three days during which time you are in France. I'm still on the plane and Madrid already seems empty to me. I'm in trouble and in pain. I'm In trouble and there is no one to understand or care.