I realise that I haven't been all too specific in my ramblings lately and I know that if I continue on this way, I won't have anything solid to look back on.
I've been living in Dublin for over a month with three other students and it's a quiet and lonely house and it's always so cold and awkward.
I'm studying photography again - like I swore I never would - and I'm enjoying it. Just like I thought I never would. We've been given a project to do whereby we basically have to take three photographs of a place within a one hundred metre radius. They have to give off a sense of narrative in a certain way and I'm actually excited for it, to be honest. Last Friday night, I lay on a mattress on Maria's floor and I missed her, just like I have done, for the longest time probably as much as her real children. That space has become so empty and surreal and quiet and unlike a home anymore and there is a loss and a silence in every room that permeates my bones everytime I step into that place. I'm looking forward to the long weekend and spending some time there so that I can start my project and hopefully get something right for a change. I brought her flowers last weekend and cried in the middle of the shop floor while I tried to pick them out. This is me not depressed, apparently.
I have been involved and not involved with a man for a while now, I think I've mentioned him before, and things have gotten stale and weird and I can't fight this loneliness because it hurts and there is nobody to talk to about it because what I'm doing is wrong wrong wrong. My fault. I'm dealing with it. I tell myself every day that I will cut all ties and let him forget because I get the feeling that he really wants to, only I try and I try and just days later I apologise and fabricate a silly excuse. I need to not be so selfish. I keep having dreams that the doctors find out what's wrong with me - it's cancer - and that I call him from the hospital corridor when there's nobody around and I try to tell him and I can't but then I do and then the dream ends and I never know how to feel. It's tough. Why does it matter? And then what? He comes and fixes everything? He couldn't do that before, what changes things?
I took the bus by myself the other day, right into the heart of town, and I had this panicked feeling in my gut the whole way in and the whole way back. When did I become this excuse of a person?