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2010-01-14 / 2:12 a.m. Awake again past two in the morning but the ice has begun to thaw and I'm not so cold anymore. Spent upwards of a week at home with my mother and my two dogs and one cat and I only loved my dogs more and my cat the same and my mother less. I guess I like to be alone, and there's nothing wrong with that, but my house is so out there in the open with all its windows and doors and all its comings and goings and with everything happening. I don't ever get to be alone ever except for in my room when I close my curtains but still I hear all this noise emanating from other lives and when I open my curtains there are just all these people that can see me so plain, just as plain as I can see them and they pretend not to look and I pretend not to look but everybody knows it's just pretending. Nearly a year ago now, I was as drunk as I've ever been ever, and I met this guy named Patrick. He was from Canada and was probably in his thirties and I don't know how we started talking but my friends were waiting on me to follow them into some pub or some club or something and I love my friends but they just have to learn that I was upset that night and that there was some Canadian man with a backpack on his back and he was talking to me about how angry he is. I just remember asking him if he was drunk and he said that he hadn't been drinking at all and so I apologised for being so uncharacteristically drunk and I made him give me his phone number, and I gave him mine and I remember him talking about his mother and for some reason, it seemed like a good idea to apologise profusely on behalf of my whole country, and he seemed to like that idea. The next day I thought that he was humouring me maybe, but I was so fucking hungover that I threw up on a bus and I didn't really give a shit because my boyfriend had driven all night to come see me and to collect me because I'd been in a panic to him on the phone, all tears and confusion and he'd come, all three hours of a drive to pick me up, but what had I done? I'd fallen asleep, passed out, and nobody could wake me, nobody. Thinking about it, I never did look him up again after I made it back to Cork, but I guess I can be forgiven because I was staying in a room paid for by charity because I was waiting for a woman to either live or die (she lived, or at least for now she lives) and I was lost and never really did get found again. Fucking hell. Last year. Oh last year. I don't know if I should write him again. I don't know if I should let sleeping dogs lie, but I just want to tell him that everything's okay, and hope that it will be, or I want to know if everything is okay. |