Tonight has been filled with contemplation of many things. Childhood, largely, and how things have changed. How I have changed. I was remembering when midnight was the Witching Hour - how influenced I must have been by Roald Dhal! I remember leaping from my bed, too afraid to land close in case the monster underneath should pounce out at me. They weren't all bad, the products of my imagination. There were joyful games in the daylight hours. But come midnight, and the world changed. Before midnight, the only thing to fear was my mother catching me reading under the covers with the torch. But as soon as that clock on my bedside table clicked over to 12:00 - torch off, eyes tightly shut, that world did not belong to me. It was the Witching Hour.
Now I sit up late discussing everything from... actually just discussing sex. That's all Torbjorn talks about. Which is fine. Fun, certainly. 4am is a late night, these days. Midnight is just another time to look at and think, "I should probably go to bed soon" and then sit up for another few hours.
Other contemplations have included me and men. I guess it all started with Mart. I still speak to him, he has a daughter these days. She looks like him. Mart was a chronic liar. He probably still is. He doesn't mean anything by it, it's not his intention to hurt people. He just can't help lying all the time, about everything. He's a very deep and incredibly gentle man, his feelings for those close to him are genuine and intense. He has lost a lot in his life, suffered a lot - or so he tells me. But of course, he's a liar. That lasted about two years, I think. Anyway, the next one was Elliott. Lovely little guy, the only guy younger than me that I've ever dated. But he got freaked out when he found out I was bisexual. That was it with Elliott - only lasted three months. He was pretty intense - when we'd been together for two weeks he said "I'd like to marry you someday, if all goes well". That freaked me out. Now I think of it, El was in between Mart. We broke up, then there was El, then I was back with Mart. After that I told myself I'd never go back again. I was wrong, because then came Dave, with whom I also broke up twice. Dave was pretty much the First Everything with a guy. (Previously there had been some experimentation with Tammy, when we were about twelve.) I thought I'd found real love with Dave, I lost my virginity to him, I moved in with him. And gradually it fell apart, as it was bound to do. He wasn't right for me - too dull, quite frankly. Two and a half years I wasted before figuring that out. Then there came Jon. Well, if you read this bloody blog regularly, you know about Jon. I won't go into detail.
Then there are the ones who were just flings, not relationships at all. Daniel in early highschool, Warren in the "in between Dave" time, and later on there was Paul.
You're probably wondering why I'm writing all this. That's ok. So am I. No reason, I guess. It passes the time. It's kind of weird to look back on them all, especially Mart. I learnt a lot about life from him. I remember feeling so mature when I turned 15. Now I think 15 is incredibly young, and I must have been bloody stupid to let myself get tied down into what I thought was a serious relationship at that age. But I must admit, it was either that or become another small-town slut and be pregnant by age 16.
Anyway, here I am again, on my own. I'm 21 years old, and my heart has been broken (yes, cliche, I know) at least three times now, possibly four. It's a little worrying how soon I forget how I felt at certain times in my life. I remember being literally suicidal the first time Mart dumped me - but it was probably just attention seeking or something. I would have been at least as upset the second time, too. The first time Dave and I broke up was pretty bad. The second time, well, by that stage it meant nothing anymore. I have absolutely no recollection of breaking up with El or how I felt about it. Complete blank.
My sudden and unexpected rush of words has dried up. There's nothing more inside me. No words anyway. Plenty of obscure, disconnected thoughts. Myriads of emotions. But nothing I can type.