Sunday 28 October 2012

Not tonight Clive...

As I struggle my way through mending this heart of mine, I can't help but feel a little deflated. What exactly is the point of it all if it doesn't result in me moving on? Why make myself feel momentarily better if my feelings for the boy have not changed? It all seems a little superfluous, for want of a better word.

I am trying not to think about him, but when his office building is at the end of my road, the chances of that are slim to none. I have tried to distract myself by cheekily flirting with some rather dishy men I know. If anything, this has made things worse. They have not been unsuccessful flirtations, however, as nice as the world of witty banter has been, they have all missed that wee spark, butterfly feeling, ridiculous smiling, biting your lip, whatever-effects-you-when-a-certain-boy-is-talking-to-you feeling. Which has lead me to the conclusion that I would rather have my boys crap and disjointed version of fun than anyone else's perfect hearts-and-flowers version of a relationship. With this is my head, what chance does my heart have in rebuilding itself?

The trouble as I see it is that I have been so accomplished at building a protective wall around my heart (I grew up in 1066 country. Full of castles. I learnt a thing or two about protective buildings. Naturally. My history teacher will be so proud!) that there is no way of getting in unless I lower the drawbridge. Which happens but rarely. However, it has become apparent to me that the boy that makes me turn to mush is not on the outside trying to battle his way into my heart. He's on the inside. I suspect he's been there longer than I have ever realised and what good is this protective wall surrounding my heart if the boy I'm trying to protect myself from and move on is comfortably watching homeland on a sofa smack bang in the centre of my heart!? I am trying my very best to remove him, but as I said, this protective wall is pretty strong. Apparently it's just as successful at keeping feelings in as it is at keeping them out. Bugger.

In short, I'm fucked.

Love really does change everything. I'm so confused at the moment that I don't even know who I am anymore. I think I'm Clive, is that correct!?

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