Chapter Five: Accident

"Hopelessly drifting
Bathing in beautiful agony
I am endlessly falling
Lost in this wonderful misery
In peaceful sedation I lay half-awake
And all of the panic inside starts to fade
Hopelessly drifting
Bathing in beautiful agony."

I didn't want to go, really. It was Jared's first time in the South Island and we really would rather have stayed in Christchurch and seen the sights there. But we got roped into it... and really, once we'd left, it was very fun. Until it wasn't.
We all piled into the car: my brother Dylan, his wife Tania, her daughter Azriel, Jared and I. Off we went on a 2-hour drive up to Porter Heights, the nearest snow-covered mountain. As we went through the curiously flat Christchurch countryside, Azzy was remarking upon all the farm animals; she reminded me of me at her age. "Sheep, sheep, sheep, sheep, sheep..." she'd chant. And then "cow, cow, cow, cow...". Horses deserved a special exclamation and she'd point them out to me, because I said I loved horses too. We had a lot of fun laughing at her because somehow she knew all the pop radio songs, even Lady Gaga and all those people. Nobody had a clue where she'd learned them from.
Eventually we got there, not without a few "are we there yet"s. We parked the car, kitted up in our borrowed snow gear and set off.
As Tania, Jared, Azzy and I set off up the snowy walkway, Dylan decided he'd go and see how much it was to rent a toboggan. It seemed the only place to toboggan was the walkway we were trudging up, which seemed strange, so after throwing a few snowballs at each other and slipping over a couple of times, we approached a ski instructor to ask where the best spot was. He waved us over to a rather steeper hill on our left.
It was tough going to climb up this hill. Too tough for Azzy and the pregnant Tania, in fact. So Dylan had the first go, climbing up the slope about four metres and sliding from there. Azzy got the next go, from about two meteres up the slope. In the meantime Jared and I set to climbing the near-sheer snowy incline. I got to a patch of exposed tussock grass and sat on it, my legs tired already. To my left was a cliff of about four or five feet; to my right was a gentler slope. Dylan climbed up to us with the toboggan and we surveyed the path down.
Even Jared said that he wasn't going to do it, that it looked too risky. But none of us seemed to be thinking properly. Maybe the cold air, with so much less oxygen, got to our brains. Maybe it was just spur of the moment. But I decided to go. Fearless, I laughed at Jared. "Move over, chicken boy", I teased, and crawled over to where Dylan was holding the toboggan. "Be careful", he warned. "Once you get in the thing it's going to start moving straight away."
I planned to aim for the hill to my right, so I wouldn't pick up so much speed. But Dylan was right. Once I sat in the toboggan, he let it go... and I had no control.
It took off so fast that I was whiplashed onto my back. It started sliding away to the right and went over the five-foot cliff. I landed heavily on my left side, still in the toboggan. It curved off the the right and I came out of it and kept sliding straight ahead, right into a fence. The bottom board hitting my jaw spun me around and stopped me.

All this time I wasn't afraid, I was just so bewildered. The whole way down I was just going, "what?".

Winded, I struggled between the impulse to breathe and the impulse to scream. Screaming won and I yelled, as loudly as I could for as long as I could... and then everything went black.

The thing that struck me about it was how peaceful it was. No light, no sound, nothing... just velvety warm darkness, like that moment between sleeping and waking. I could've quite happily stayed there forever. I was utterly, totally and completely convinced that in a moment I'd wake up safe and warm in my bed back at my sister's place after having a bad, bad dream. And then I heard Jared. I couldn't hear what he was saying, but I heard his voice, and I thought 'oh, right. Jared', and opened my eyes.
The next few seconds were the most terrifying experience of my life.

There were people all around me. I couldn't see a single face I knew and they were all way, WAY too close. I didn't want them there, I wanted space, I wanted air, I wanted to organize my thoughts and figure out why I was on this hillside and what had happened to me before I dealt with anything else. I was horrified. The next second, pain hit me. I screamed and screamed and screamed, right into the face of a lady paramedic. In the same instant I noticed that my jaw felt wrong, that there was blood and tiny hard bits of tooth in my mouth. I wanted to ask if I had any teeth missing but I couldn't stop myself yelling long enough. I was so, so frightened. Then I noticed someone was holding my hand, and I managed to calm myself enough to listen to what that person was saying.
"Love, it's alright. It's okay, I'm here." Jared. Jared was here. I tried to process that. If Jared was there, then everything was fine. He kept up that chant the whole time, holding me in, keeping me sane.

I managed to answer the paramedic's questions between involuntary moans and sobs. One of the guys had a hat in the shape of a fox on his head and I remember being worried that I was hallucinating, and then wanting to laugh, even in the midst of my terror and pain. They checked me for paralysis and I could move my legs and arms. I remember saying "thank God". I know Tania's face popped up at one point, detailing out what had happened to me in the logical way that she has. I remember Dylan, with a strange face on that looked like he wanted to smile for me but was too worried for it.
Eventually they got me back to the first aid place on the mountain. They did more checks and said I'd chipped a tooth, but they were all still there and I hadn't broken anything. I had huge bruises on my jaw and my ribs, and a deep, deep cut on my leg, but when I was ready I could go.

At the end of the day I struggled to my feet and somehow made it down the hill to the car, leaning on Jared and Dylan. They settled me in the front seat and, with Tania driving very, very carefully, we started back home. And that would have been that, if I hadn't started bleeding out of my ear.
Dylan called dad and explained everything, saying that he'd probably take me to Christchurch hospital and to meet us there...

...a few kilometres away, my mother and sister turned to each other and said, "She didn't want to go"...

...We got there eventually and they wheeled me into A&E. I remember protesting proudly against the wheelchair, but succumbing to group pressure. Jared had to leave while we were waiting and he was away quite a while. When he came back I gave him my hand; I could see that he'd been crying and I said softly, "oh, love...". He buried his face in my hand and his and broke down. It must have been so horrible for him to watch me slip away.

Eventually, after many x-rays and examinations, they told me that my jaw was broken in three places; down the middle and on each corner. Because my ribs were just bruised, I was okay to go back to my sister's place.
I was so afraid to sleep that night. I was terrified I'd wake up back on that mountain, back in that nightmare. But I was exhausted, and there was no fighting it.


I won't dwell on the other appointments; the painful plane trip home, the annoying south african doctor who said I'd have to have my jaw wired shut, my determination that I wouldn't, my healing of myself so much so that I impressed the surgeon who came to check me out, my slow-seeming but relatively fast healing ribs, the plethora of drugs and pills I had to take for the first week and the alternate birthday celebration I had to have.
But now I have experienced being hurt that badly, and I never want to again. And it could have been so much worse. I'm lucky.

It could have been so. Much. Worse.

Bars

"Every empty one of us have methods
To quell the madness of this pace
But yours have led and running south
A jealous storm has carried down your face

You could take that wait and all that fuss
So now just get the best of us, you know
Give me love not suicide
And the wiser, wider part of me will show

A picture says with sight
What we can't say with words
But you've been walking eyes to feet in dark sunglasses
A picture will survive
So smile and look alive..."


This weekend was meant to be a nice happy one with Jared as my parents went away. But he ran a temperature and had to go to the doctor, and ended up having to go back to his house. I'm coming to the conclusion his immune system must not be very strong.

So I spent the whole day today watching season one of Grey's Anatomy. I've never watched a whole season of something like that in one day, unless you count Doctor Who (shut up) which I don't. It was actually quite nice not to have to wait a week to find out... well, to remember... what happens next. There's something to be said for wasting a day in front of the tv.

But it was then that I realized that I'm no different. I enjoy drama just as much as the next person. Other people's dramas mean that I can forget mine. It's when it actually gets inside my head that I hate it. And well, obviously! Really, who would like that? So it's my fault, really. For being sensitive. For letting things that aren't real get inside my head. Grey's can make me cry, but for the most part I find it relatively unrealistic. It doesn't really relate to my life like it does to other peoples'. But something like Wuthering Heights... I know EXACTLY what it's like to have someone obsessive and damaged hold on to you. So tightly that you can't breathe. And I know what it's like when you get used to them. And then when you finally break their hold you get so much oxygen that it only takes one spark to ignite...

It's a family trait. Damaged people find us, and grasp us, and use us as ladders to climb back up to the light. But unfortunately, sometimes we get overwhelmed. We have to rip the ladder away from them and use it ourselves. And not look back. And not wonder if they've made it up or not. We have to separate ourselves to survive.
I'm really bad at that bit. I have a chronic case of what if. Of looking back. If anyone took a picture that summed me up, it would be of me looking over my shoulder. It's not healthy, it's not good for me or for anyone around me, but it's just the way things are.


That's another theme. The Way Things Are. Can I help the way I am? The life I've lead, the friends I've made, the people I've been involved with? Should I be punished for that?

This holidays I've caught up with an old friend. He and I have History. It's all resolved now, but that day at that cafe we talked about it for the first time. It all happened two and a half years ago, and it was the FIRST TIME we'd talked about it. It was... liberating. It was really nice to find out that he was still sorry about it... about hurting me. A long dusty puzzle piece clicked into place, completing that picture. And it felt good.
We ended up going back to his place and watching Mr. Bean, and eating gourmet pies. But when a technology malfunction meant that Jared didn't hear from me for hours, and then when he did, found that I was alone in a house with another boy that I'd had History with, he was very upset. Very.
It all culminated in Jared and I having a big long conversation and him asking me to never let myself be alone in a house with another boy again. And it's not like that really happens that often... in fact, hardly ever. But... just the simple fact that I've been forbidden to do something is a new thing. A new step.
I have this problem. It's called being a teenager. I'm lucky, I only have a mild case of it, but it means that sometimes... sometimes... when someone forbids me from doing something, I really REALLY feel like doing it.
Not that I will. But I want to.

Man, I feel screwed up. The only reason I'm blogging about this is that I've been thinking about it, and when I think about it I end up feeling like there's a thin layer of gauze wrapped around me. Like a set of almost-translucent bars around me. Cutting me off. And the question prods me in the side... doesn't he trust me? Doesn't he think that I can look after myself?
I've already asked him stuff like this, and he says he does trust me, but he still feels bad about it. And I will do anything, ANYTHING, to make Jared happy. No question.

But inside myself, in the depths of my mind, I should be allowed to be a bit annoyed.

Right?

Purgatory

"The world is a drought when out of love
Please come back to us
You're all of the above
'I'm making a choice to be out of touch.
Leave me be,' He said, he said, he said...

'Leave me here in my stark raving, sick, sad little world!
Leave me here in my stark raving, sick, sad little world!'"



I haven't posted for a while... I guess there hasn't really been anything to say. I'd closed that chapter- it was quite a short one I guess. I thought it'd be that easy. Cut the ties. Turn in a new direction. Start a new chapter. I should've known.
It was really weird actually. I was thinking that as I loaded up my blog, and then the latest entry under Danny's blog said something quite similar. That seems to happen to us a lot.

Today I logged into msn for the first time in ages to sort out my mess of a hotmail inbox. There was a message from Shadowboy in it, just a general thing sent out to everyone. He called it Travel Log, and it was just an account of what'd happened to him so far... but reading it made me so... so sad. I suddenly realized that, by cutting the ties I had to him as more than a friend, I'd almost cut him out of my life. Made him someone neutral, normal, unknown. And it hurt. Evidently there are still some sore spots from where I cut the ties, and they haven't healed yet.
So, patience. I must have patience and wait for them to heal. Silly really- I shouldn't've thought that it'd be that fast and easy. I should've listened to you, Danny, when you said time. Twice.

I'm in purgatory. In limbo. Just waiting.

Unbound

"Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road.
Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go.
So make the best of this test and don't ask why.
It's not a question but a lesson learned in time.

It's something unpredictable but in the end it's right.
I hope you had the time of your life.

So take the photographs and still frames in your mind.
Hang it on a shelf in good health and good time.
Tattoos of memories and dead skin on trial.
For what it's worth,it was worth all the while.

It's something unpredictable but in the end it's right.
I hope you had the time of your life."



So much agonizing over such a simple thing. One little kiss on the cheek. And I agonized over it.
He kissed me on the cheek when we came in the door. And with that the spell of worry was broken. It was obviously and ridiculously normal.

I got a bit drunk at the party, actually. It'd been a while. As stupid as this sounds I need to control myself when I'm drunk and try not to be such an idiot, cause I can see myself doing it and it's just not cool. I say really dumb things. And it doesn't work when the people around me aren't drunk at all.
Also I've noticed that when I'm drunk I'm good at things that I'm usually bad at, and bad at things I'm usually good at...

Anyway. It was a really good night. I didn't feel any pangs or any worry at all. Until it was coming up to time to leave. I thought to myself, this is it. This is your last chance to figure this out, to look at him face-to-face and arrange a spot for him in the correct place in your head.

I hugged him. He lifted me off the ground and hugged me tight back. I kissed his cheek and begged him to take care of himself. He said he would. I told him I'd miss him, and he said he'd miss me too. And then we left.

In the car on the way back, I felt sad. I'd said goodbye to him, my Shadowboy. I would never see him in that way again. That's when I knew that I wasn't done yet. If I was sad, I wasn't finished. That's when I realized that was only the introduction. The rest had to be done inside my head. So I sat back and instead of avoiding all the images of He and I together that had haunted me for years, I closed my eyes and stared and stared at them.

I feasted on them until they were all I could see. Then I forced them into long pieces like ribbons, and visualized them as connecting my heart and His. Then I lifted my hands and took up a pair of imaginary scissors. I concentrated on each one individually. He and I. Our held hands, on every occasion they were and every one I'd imagined. I began to cut, as close to my own heart as I could. As cleanly as I could. I didn't watch the ties falling away. I didn't look back. Focus, focus. On to the next. His face close to mine. That look in his eyes that only couples share with each other. Our lips meeting. The scissors snipped. They were very sharp. Focus, last one now. Me and him, alone, intimacy uninterrupted by any other person. Us as lovers, for life. It was hard to look at that one, but I made myself. Focus. Cut the ties that bind. Become unbound.
The scissors met. The ties fell away. I didn't watch them.

I opened my eyes and looked straight over at Jared, filling my heart and soul with the quiet joy that I had my life companion, forever, the one I was meant to be with. Forever. Forever. No pain, no uncertainty. Forever.


A few minutes later I made myself examine my heart, make sure that everyone was in their proper place. It seemed correct, everything seemed in order- Jared filling the romantic like a ray of warm, soft sunlight, and my friends all glittering in the platonic like crystal rainbows. And that's when I saw him. When I had a sudden revelation.
He was still there. But he was in the right place. He mixed in to the platonic with ease, as if he'd never been anywhere else.
It seemed stupid right after the blinding moment of realization, but it was such a huge thing at the time; he was my friend. He could still be my friend. I didn't have to cut him out of my life. He could be my friend. Just like it should have been all along. It was so simple and astonishing that I smiled and almost laughed aloud.

I had the best. The best of all worlds. Unbound friendship... abounding love.

Fury

"It's a cruel thing you'll never know
All the ways I tried
It's a hard thing faking a smile
When I feel like I'm falling apart inside

And now you're gone it's like an echo in my head
And I remember every word you said..."



It was close to seven o'clock at night. I was on the bus on the way home from Uni- what a place to have a mental spasm- and that song came up on my iPod... Robyn, Be Mine. Back when shadow-boy was my obsession that song would make me cry until my heart nearly burst. But when I heard it today something else began to rise in my chest... utter and absolute fury.

I've never felt so purely angry in my life. I don't deal with anger very well. I'm not used to it. Frustration, yes... hurt, yes... regret, yes... but not anger.

So I ran. I got off the bus and I ran through my suburb in the darkness. Like the first time I heard that song, I wanted to scream... this time in a different kind of agony than the first... but I didn't want to scare my neighbours... so, like the first time, I danced. I beat the ground with my feet, I cut the air with my arms, I lashed out at the sky. I spun through my fury.

I stopped when it was getting too late and too close to my house to continue.


How dare he?! How dare shadow-boy still affect me this way when it's been so long, and I've been through so much life, and I've had the most amazing person practically given to me on a plate- it's complete crap! Why?!

I believe that everything happens for a reason... but what the hell is life trying to teach me with this?! I've learned everything that I can from him- what is the point in prolonging this torture, this utter useless hopelessness?

And the worst bit is that it's not even his fault. The only person I can really blame is myself- my mind. My stupid, stupid mind! It's all in my head. The one person whose rejection consistently made me feel like I wasn't good enough. And he doesn't even know. He has no idea.
It's. All. In. My. Head.

Chapter Two: Stop

"You've got it, you've got it
Some kind of magic
Hypnotic, hypnotic
You're leaving me breathless
I hate this, I hate this
You're not the one I believe in
With God as my witness.

Now when I caught myself I had to stop myself
From saying something that I should've never thought.
Now when I caught myself I had to stop myself
From saying something that I should've never thought of you, of you,
You're pushing and pulling me down to you
But I don't know what I want
No I don't know what I want.

I don't know what I want
But I know it's not you...
Keep pushing and pulling me down
When I know in my heart it's not you."



I don't even know how to start this. It's so stupid and pointless and utterly, utterly sad. But not sad like the previous chapter. Sad like pathetic.

I should know better than to read my old diaries.



A week or so ago I was talking to a friend of mine about a certain problem we both have. I suppose its origin is in our over-developed imaginations, our poets' souls, our elephant's memories for past emotions.

It's the What If.

The wondering what might've happened. With a certain someone. If the stars had all been aligned and it had all worked out the way we wanted at the time.


In the days directly before my Jared, my life, my light and my soulmate, there was a dark tunnel of a teenage love in my life. A boy who- through no fault of his own, because he was almost always direct and honest with me- lived in my heart on and off for three years. From the moment which he first became lodged there his shadow began to fall across me, my love, my mind. And in the last year, this shade of him took on a life of its own... even after the boy had lost that kind of interest in me... even after he kindly, thoughtfully and carefully made this absolutely apparent to me... his shadow continued to take over... to claim territory in my heart until the whole thing was dark and corrupted, until I screamed for release, wanted to rip it out of my chest and escape. Hopeless. My eyes so darkened there was nothing else to see but the shadow. Helpless. Too sick to see any way out or any alternative to this twisted love I had come to hold.

And then, like a candle lighting, like the sun rising, a light appeared. Jared rescued me out of my self-inflicted blindness, lifted me up to the warmth. Showed me what love really is. Gave me my life back, claimed my heart back, healed it. All without even knowing it. I know now what I was always missing. Like a puzzle piece fitting perfectly into the piece next to it, he fit. Like the perfect missing note in a melody, he sang. Like sleep washing over after a long night of sleeplessness, he soothed. He is my soulmate; the one I've waited for through who knows how many past lives. And I wouldn't trade him for the world. I want to get that straight. Whatever else I might say in this entry, it doesn't mean that I'd ever let Jared go. Under any circumstances. Because a life without him would be the most potent living hell imaginable.


And yet... and yet... try as I might, I can't completely let him go. The boy who shadowed my heart for years.
My heart is not his kingdom anymore; it's Jared's. And yet still wonder what it might've been like to be his, without the shadow.
I know he's not the one for me; Jared is. And I know that even if we had been together, it wouldn't've lasted- we were almost too similar, he was almost too much of a kindred sprit. The vibe would've felt wrong. And yet still I wonder what it might've been like to have what I wanted so badly for so long.
Secretly, I never really liked kissing before Jared. It was... boring. Honestly, it really wasn't often that I felt like I really wanted to do it, I just did it because it was expected. I think that's because I'm a very specific person; the only person that I am ever going to feel good kissing is always Jared. And yet still I wonder what it would've been like to kiss him. My shadow boy.

These feelings are on and off, just like when he first appeared in my heart. When they're off they're gone like he never existed. But when they're on they keep me up for hours. Just like tonight. I want to be rid of them completely. I want it to stop. But I know no way how.



This year he's moving to England for a gap year, a working holiday, all on his own. It's been months since I last saw this boy; madness considering he was in my group of friends, a set of people I saw almost every single day last year, and considering that he was one of the people I was closest to for most of that year.
His leaving party is on Friday. He'll be gone for a whole year- it'll be the last time I'm going to see him for quite a while. I want to get these feelings I have finished, over, packed away in a box, taped up and stored in the attic of my mind. I want to never want or have to look at them again.
Jared's coming to this party too. He's finally gotten over his slight jealous streak; though I think he still feels edgy about a few people, and this boy is definitely one of them... and fair enough too, considering what I'm writing here. Again I want to stress that Jared is my soulmate and that I can't live without him: no way in hell, heaven or earth would I swap the two around or do anything to betray or hurt him.
But the problem is that me and this boy have never talked about what happened between us. I think this is because he's not one of those guys who like to talk about their inner feelings, which is horrible for me because that's how I sort things out; through talk. Through action, positive action in a positive direction.

I only ever kissed this boy on the cheek, once. Just once. But lately I keep thinking that I should do it again. Still on the cheek. Still just once more. To kiss goodbye to my memory of him. Goodbye to the last fragments of his shadow. Maybe also to compare kissing his cheek to kissing Jared's... just to make absolutely, positively sure that I'm right about how this boy and I would never have worked out. But I'm afraid that someone will see and take it the wrong way... one of my other friends, or, God forbid, Jared... and I'm scared that this boy might take it the wrong way too. I of all people know that you can never count on what you think you know that someone's thinking.

I know it's a bad idea. But only mostly.

I need closure, but I don't know what to do.