The Sober Truth: Part 2

It's not the explosion that's the worst though. It's the aftermath. And such effects it had.

The reply was no sooner typed out than it was sent. Out to share her heartache with the world. "Can't stop, iI need YOU". Even in her drunken state, Caroline knew how pathetic she sounded, and slammed the phone down, just watching as it bounced off the bar, laying forlornly up at her, as if to say "This wasn't my fault". When had she started to behave like this? Why? It had probably begun at the age of twelve, when her parents marriage had broken down. Not meaning to play the blame game; but there was a reason Freud was so popular with his theories, right? Caroline laughed to herself. If they had any sort of substance, wouldn't everyone be as pathetically fucked up as her? How many children came from "broken homes" nowadays anyway? The majority, that's what. Nobody gets away without some form of mental scarring. Not even the perfect little nuclear family.

She had always been jealous of the Simson's household growing up in her hometown. To the outside world, their family unit appeared flawless. Mr. Simson, a business type, always wearing suits and being too busy, drinking his coffee black and talking too fast. Mrs. Simson, who attended meetings at the WI and baked cakes and raised money for charity and wore pearls and who would offer to help anyone, being so friendly. Perhaps a little too friendly. Or so it would seem when it came to helping Mr.Wilson. Caroline recalled how she would watch on enviously as their precious daughter Anabelle played with ever more extravagant toys. Little had she known she was only spoilt with such luxuries because her mother was too busy bonking her way round the cul-de-sac.

But why had Caroline's parents split? Pure unhappiness. She still didn't forgive them, not really. And now she would blame them for her own sadness. The phone, despite it's disgust at such treatment let Caroline know she had a new message "You need help." came the blunt reply. Well. Maybe she did. At her left side, she could see Sarah moving towards her, when had she even left?

"Ehhhh!" came her friends high pitched voice. "We're going to go to Paul's, he's invited us back, you have to come!". Caroline didn't even like Paul. He smelt a bit like Dettol. But what else did she have to do? She grabbed her phone and followed behind Sarah. Maybe it'd be fun. Dettol and all.      

The Influence of the World

A few reasons why I feel I have grown up to become the sort of person I am today:

1. I have delicious friends: 

Now, I'd like to think I made a really splendid choice with the group of friends I have, and I really do love them. But some of the tales and stories that I've been told over the years, as well as some of the activities we've been a part of (many include stalking favourite celebrities with cakes that have their faces on), it's no wonder I've turned out like this.

2. I grew up watching such entirely unsuitable films such as:

Monty Python; I blame my father, but Life of Brian and The Holy Grail probably weren't the best sort of material for a 7 year old, then again, I'm glad he did show us them. Blasphemy and the occasional nude man really did inspire me in later life I feel. Also A Clockwork Orange, because throwing in a bit of rape and ultra-violence doesn't damage a child in any way at all. I guess it's one way to expose classical music to those of a young age. Cultured, that's what we were.

3. I played with:

Never one to enjoy the stereotypical baby doll most young girls were given, often throwing them away in disgust, I opted for playing with a large jeep toy me and my sister had bought for us. It was excellent. And blue, and just glorious. Also play dough. Always moulding it into the most wonderful of phallic shapes. Those playgroup times. (Good video of that which I still own and show to people).

4. The games that me and my sister created sometimes involved:

There were a lot of unusual topics covered, that's for sure. One game was revolved around the novel Watership Down, and if anyone has ever seen it or read it, you know that film fucks you up as a child. So many underlying themes. Religious symbolism, Homer's Odyssey, my gosh, we were deep.

5. My first "crushes" were people like this: 

I do believe in a thing called love, Justin.

There's a reason The Labyrinth is my favourite film.

So, whilst most girls were probably fantasising over Disney stars or whatever, there I was, thinking, yeah... I like that. I like that a lot. Perhaps it was Justin's falsetto that done it for me. And "The Labyrinth" is a really good film, so there was no reason not to watch it again and again. Although perhaps a small part of it was the fact Bowie wore incredibly tight tights. Maybe.

Do it Hoggle.

Not One to Start a Revolution.

I remember once back in primary school, all the boys were playing "Army" or whatever they used to call it. I asked if I could join in, cause, y'know, they looked like they were enjoying themselves - and I was bored of whatever playground antics everyone else was getting up to (mainly playing with bits of string a certain dinner lady used to cut up for us... as was our deprived childhood). So I go up to them, asking "Can I please play too?".

But it wasn't as easy as that. Of course not. I was a girl. I couldn't invade in their boy fun, no way could I be a soldier. The only way I could possibly join in was to be the nurse.

Whilst the boys ran around crazily shooting one other with an assortment of imaginary arms - all the nurse had to do was stand about - occasionally dishing out a miraculous cure to the afflicted like a playground Jesus. I couldn't run about, pretending to shoot people like they were, because oh no, wielding even an imaginary gun would be too much for a girl like me.

But I didn't do anything about it. I don't know why. I clearly wasn't destined to dabble in the world of female rights activism. I accepted it. It wasn't all bad, I mean, I did find pleasure in refusing to treat some of my 'patients'. I guess really if you want something, then you have to ask, or at least question decisions that are made. You're never going to get anything if you don't at least try. If you don't ask, the answer will always be no. So yeah, I should have said something. It's a skill I'm still working on to this day. I shall get there. Eventually.

S'pose till then, I have some string to play with.

What Are You Waiting For?

Today, my English teacher posed an interesting question to the class:

 "What are you waiting for?". 

Silence filled the room as we sat there contemplating her question. It made me think, just what was I waiting for? Because honestly, I didn't know, not really. I knew I was waiting for exam results, that was one thing. I was waiting to go see The Darkness. I was waiting for the weekend. I was waiting for the summer. Waiting for the end of college. Waiting for university. Then what? What am I waiting for?

I realised I was doing an awful lot of waiting around without really appreciating what was going on right now.

Would you consider today as part of your life? Or is it simply just another day, because you're waiting on something else to happen?

I suppose it's not waiting that I should be doing, but living. Why wait to learn about Greek mythology, why not just start reading about it? Why wait about for the weekend, why not just go out now? Why wait for better weather, why not just go out in the cold? I'm aware there's a lot of constrictions that probably prevent the majority of us. Having the time. Having the money. And that's fair enough. But really, there's so much that we could be doing, rather than just waiting.

So what are you waiting for?

The Sober Truth

"i love yoIUU" she typed into her phone, not thinking as she sent yet another drunken text to Sam. Her phone vibrated, flashing as it told her "Please stop this Caroline". The problem was, she didn't know how to stop. How could she? The alcohol trickling through her system, providing her with that brief moment of courage to project her feelings. Although, this wasn't the first time. It probably wouldn't be the last. Determined to win his heart, she had often found herself in a drunken state, sat staring at her phone, releasing the feelings she harboured deep inside when sober.

The problem was- the feelings were never reciprocated. They never had been. At least, nobody she had wanted. Did she even know what she wanted? Not really. She was a twenty year old, no real prospects in life, no purpose. She just wanted to feel acceptance. She didn't even need love, just some attention would suit her. So she sat, at the bar- the bar in which all her friends sat too, friends that consisted off old school pals who often lost contact with her unless they wanted something. Caroline didn't mind, at least it gave her a chance to listen to people whose lives were actually more problematic than her own.

The sorry stories had begun with one of her best friends, Sarah. Although fun to be around the majority of the time, Sarah often dramatised issues to a point where even Caroline questioned their validity. Caroline wondered if she really did need to know about her dogs stomach problems, or the relationship issues she was facing, all of which she really couldn't give a fuck about. Had she been honest with Sarah, Caroline would have told her that if her dog really did need to undergo life-threatening surgery, then perhaps she should stop feeding it so much. And if she really did need a boyfriend that desperately, maybe she should stop flaunting herself at every given opportunity to every potential male she met. None of this was spoken aloud, however. That just wasn't her style. No, she would contain her feelings until it was likely she would burst.

Unfortunately for Caroline the explosion came sooner than expected.