I have searched for you, in the darkness of a dozen dingy dance floors. In countless queues in cafes in the suburbs. In the bed clothes of a thousand stranger's bedrooms.

I'm getting stoned tonight.
It's been a long, long, long time since I've had a smoke.
I don't miss it. I don't long for it. I don't crave for another.

As with most drugs, getting stoned affects different people in all kinds of different ways.
For me, I feel an amazing connection with music. I love music anyway. Music is my life. But enjoying music after one has partaken on a spliff, I feel connected to it in a whole different level. A much more emotional connection. I feel it much more. And I keep hearing new parts in the songs, buried deep within the rhythms, but I'd never heard them before.
I also do a lot thinking while I'm stoned. I don't know why, but my brain just feels more active.

Don't wait for me.

Who would you blame for blowing the flame right out? Is it me? There is no doubt I can do what I want to do, from now until forever. Let's have less of getting clever with me.

I started this blog in the aftermath of being dumped by a girl. A girl who I thought the world of. But the relationship was moving faster than my emotions could cope, as this was my first real relationship since the break up of my marriage. And I still carried those scars for a long time afterwards.
When she finished things with us, it wasn't so much her reasons for doing it, as I could see her point of view, but her actions afterwards that hurt the most. Within days, she made sure I knew she was seeing someone else. She kept stringing me along with confusingly suggestive text messages and late hour voicemails of tears and love and missing. Like a fool, I fell for it, for a while. Within weeks, he was moving his stuff into her place, and introducing himself into her kids lives. That was painful. Within months, she told me she was selling her house and moving down to the south coast, to his home town. Just like that! I mean....fuck.
Years later, I came across and old work colleague when I was scrolling through company employee names on the email address book. Out of the blue, he mentioned her. Said he thinks she got herself a drug problem, gained a load of weight and never heard anymore after she left work and moved away.

Last week, I found myself thinking about her. Where she is now. If it worked out for her, what she's doing and if she's happy? I tried searching for her on Facebook, but she's got quite a common name, and she may even be married. I've considered contacting other people on Facebook who would have known both of us. But I haven't done anything about that consideration yet.

She had great dress sense. A little bohemian. Lovely long hair, a really cute tattoo and always wore matching under-wear. We had a conversation about it once. She said it was important to her, it made her feel good about herself, like she'd made an effort.
We met outside a swimming baths.

And there's a part of me that still believes, my soul will soar above the trees. But a desperate fear flows through my blood, that a dead love's buried beneath the mud.

I'm hoping that going forward, I'm going to see a slight improvement in my finances. My role at work has switched, and if I can make it work, then hopefully my earnings will improve. Then perhaps I can start to make a dent in this debt, and do some more things around the house.
Having such a lack of money has meant I've really missed out on life lately. With no spare cash I've not been to any gigs, seen any movies at the cinema, been bowling, been out for any drinks (not counting the last one with work colleagues because that was a paid for night), and have generally avoided hanging out with friends, for fear it leads to costing me money; not just for food, or drinks or whatever, but even for the fuel it's costs me to get there. Ridiculous, I know. But it's how I've been living. And in a way, having that as an excuse has made me feel a little easier about spending most of my time alone.
The real reason though....I've lost a lot of confidence in myself. Particularly in my ability to trust people, almost certainly as a result of my last disastrous relationship.
I'm perfectly happy spending all this time with myself. I have the two cats and music to keep me sane.
I really hope this isn't a permanent feeling though.

So save your breath, I will not care. I think I made it very clear. You couldn't hate enough to love. Is that supposed to be enough?

So, we're already into February and it's been okay.
Usually by the second or third week of January, I'm already thinking it's gonna be another shitty year. But it's been okay.

Currently feeling like John Cusacks' character in Hi Fidelity.

It's in the water, baby. It's in the pills that bring you down. It's in the water, baby. It's in your bag of golden brown.

We are fast approaching that time of the year.
Christmas bears too many scars, and feels tainted beyond repair. New years eve holds too many dark memories, the darkest almost swallowing me whole.

Christmas is a time that many people don't realize just how lucky they are. The homeless, the lonely, the dying, the people spending this time of year without their friends around, without their family near, feeling like they are unloved. Even unlovable. No matter how shit we think our lives feel, there's always someone, somewhere....probably not very far away, who would give anything to swap places. I read earlier that the reported number of homeless people sleeping on the street in London has risen over 40% in the last twelve months. That's not just horrifying, it's unacceptable in this day and age.

This time last year, my girlfriend was about to move in with me. Less than six months later, my rooms were empty, my trust was crushed, my heart was broken and I found myself alone once again. I had no furniture left in the house, save a bed, a fridge and a very old TV that had an off coloured picture which pulled at one side. I'm slowly building things back up. Slowly making the repairs. Slowly building my life back.
My ex-girlfriend grew out of her stalking phase a few months ago, and even though I'd really like to hear from her, or one of her family or friends, to say that she's doing ok. That she's managed to get herself off that shit she was on, and keep herself clean. In a way, I don't. Because I'm scared that I'm going to be disappointed.

I've had some really shit years, particularly lately. And I always find myself trying to focus, trying to stay positive, and think to myself that the next year will be better. Even just a small amount better, but better none-the-less.
I won't be sorry to see the arse end of this year. Good riddance 2012. You sucked big, fat, smelly donkey bollocks.

I'm gonna make a point of staying up and raising a glass at midnight, this year.

Silhouette of emptiness, wrapped up in thoughts of nothing less. My chest is pressed, as I attempt to cross this bridge you're building.

The last few days, I've been feeling like I've making an impressive dent in the progress of getting this house back in order.
Having rebuilt the kitchen from scratch, rebuilt walls, redecorated, new floors, lots of painting....downstairs is pretty much done. Bar a couple of small odd 'n' ends. I'm off work for a week now, so most of that will be finishing off redecorating the three bedrooms. Then I can sort out what furniture I'm short of. I've been picking bits and pieces up at an auction I've started to go to. It's all used stuff, some very well used, but there's certainly some bargains to be had. That will leave the bathroom to completely rebuild, sorting carpets for the hall, stairs and landings, then finally the top bedroom. It still sounds like a lot. And it doesn't finish there either. There's loads of other things that need fixing or replacing or whatever; I've got trees out the front that need removing or cutting right back. I've got some guttering issues, the garage door is fucked, there's fencing needs replacing, the garden is in need of a total overhaul and I'd like to paint the front of the house as well.
Blimey. And there was me just thinking I'd done so much already, when now I just feel deflated.
Shit.

I'm going down, I don't want to change. I'm going down, going down the drain.

Wow, loads of people that I used to read have just....stopped....blogging....

It's really sad.
All these lovely people who've shared things for me to read. And some who've paid visits here too.
It feels like friends breaking up.
It's pants.

So break yourself against my stones. And spit your pity in my soul. You never needed any help. You sold me out to save yourself.

I'm doing ok.
But I keep getting holes in the end of my socks.
I've gone through three pairs this week.

I'm beginning to feel a bit more like myself now.
Most of my paranoia has all but disappeared, since I stopped being stalked.

And I'm helping my folks out with their new bathroom next week.
It will so nice to give them something back, after all they've done for me.
I'll never repay the debt in full.

I'm not living, I'm just killing time. Your tiny hands, your crazy-kitten smile.

My court case is over.

When my Barrister said to me, "When you're on the witness stand, sworn in under oath, you're on your own", I don't think I quite realised just how alone I would feel. It's just awful.
When we adjourned after I had given my evidence, we sat in one of the private consultation rooms, where my Barrister begun to tell me that in his opinion, based on his experience and from what the Judge had been asking me and making notes on, the case was going against me. His opinion was that the Judge was already siding with the other side.
Shit!
Just two hours into the hearing, with no evidence heard from the defendants yet, and already I was being advised to make an offer to the other side; an offer of 'Hands down'. Meaning I wanted to drop the case, and if they agreed, we would both just walk away gaining nothing, and bearing our own legal costs. So soon, I had to make a decision of whether to continue or not?! My Barrister expressed his concern at this early point that if I choose to continue, and it carries on the way he thinks it's already going, then I'd almost certainly lose the case and be liable to pay the defendant's legal costs, which he estimated at around ten thousand pounds. I was also advised that if I was to make such an offer, they weren't obliged to accept it, and if it were him on the defendant's side, he would see it as a weakness and he would advise his client to push on and go for broke.
Shit!
I decided to continue.
The defence were awful when they gave their evidence. I think she'd watched far too much Ally McBeal, because when she was being cross-examined, she didn't answer the direct question...instead she would answer in a round-a-bout way, as if she was giving the answer she thought she would show her in the best light. It didn't work. And it made her look like a fool. She was also caught out on some details, when she kept changing her mind, then saying she couldn't remember. The Judge was clearly bemused and shocked by some of the things he was hearing.
I felt much better at this point, although I was still noticeably nervous and shaking.
Following the defence evidence, the Judge then said a few more things, then made another adjournment. It was during this break that I was given another decision to make. By this time, most of the afternoon had been taken up with the defence evidence. Something that should have took a little longer than an hour, but ended up being well over three. And as time was getting on, it was looking more and more likely that the case wouldn't be fully heard by the end of the day. So, I was looking at a third day in court to hear this fucking case. A third day!
A third day would mean having to wait another....two or three months for a court date, in the meantime still having to pay my Solicitor for 'prep work'. And then there's another days cost for the Barrister and another day of court costs.
Back in one of the consultation rooms, my Barrister was advising me to make an offer to end the case. His opinion, was that if I continued, even though he felt the Judge was now on my side, the matter of damage and missing furniture hadn't been touched on yet, and he felt it was an extremely difficult task to convince the Judge that the Lettings Agency could be held accountable for this. It was his opinion, that the damage and furniture side of the case was looking highly un-winnable, and I should therefore put an offer to the other side. And then there was the issue of legal costs. By making an offer to the other side, I couldn't have asked for my costs to be reimbursed by them. And if I'd have continued, again, it was advised to me that as I was very unlikely to win the case in it's entirety, the amount that may have been awarded would fall under the 'Small Claims Court System', and therefore the other side would them be able to make a claim from me for extensive costs that would have been deemed unnecessary.
So, I made them an offer, which was basically about 15% of what I was suing them for in total. And there was nothing that I could say about any legal costs. If they accepted the offer, the case would be over and I would win a 'nominal' amount, but we would bare our own legal costs. In effect, that means it's cost me well over ten thousand pounds in legal costs to get 10% of that out of them.
What a complete waste of almost two years of my life.
Almost two years of stress and pressure, crippling legal bills and the inability to relax...and for what?

My Barrister kept telling me that by the other side accepting the offer, it meant that I'd won.
I don't feel like I've won anything.

This storm it came up strong. It shook the trees, and blew away our fear. I couldn't even hear.

I'm having a really difficult time at the moment.
But my camouflage is proving successful.
I'm finding it difficult to get a decent nights sleep, tossing and turning. Turning and tossing. I'm often drag myself out of bed, feeling like I've slept in a ditch.

Guilty. Guilty, Guilty.
I can't help feeling so terribly guilty.


On top of that, I've found out today that my case is finally being heard next week. There's no chance of it being adjourned again. This is it.
I'm shitting myself.

'Cos we've been through worse than this, before we could talk. The trick of it is, don't be afraid anymore.

When a relationship ends, it can fester into bitterness if you feel like you haven't got your side of the story out.
It's terribly frustrating. I know, I've been there.
She's coming over on Sunday, to collect some more things from the house. She's been asking me for ages for us to sit down and talk. It pisses me off that she wants to talk now, but when it mattered she did all she could to avoid it. But I see parts of her in me. I'm overcome with sadness when I can see it.

I'm worried that it will stir up too many emotions, things may get heated (and I really don't want that), and there's a chance we could end up losing our friendship. And I don't want that. She keeps saying that she's accepted what's happened. But I'm not so sure. I think she also thinks there might be a chance of us getting back together. I don't.
I'm wondering if this 'talk' might pose more questions than answers.
I'm wondering if this 'talk' might help her move on from all this mess.
I'm wondering if this 'talk' will just make me feel even more guilty than I already do.