Surrogacy

Nine years ago today, I woke up at 5am to find my whole family awake.
I spent the rest of the morning watching Playhouse Disney.
They didn't tell me.

I remember that month so well.
I spent every moment next to my mum.
Picking out blankets.
Sewing a new cover for the Moses Basket we used for our little sister.
Sorting out the spaces for the clothes.
I bought him a blanket the night before he was born...
I fell in love, even before I met him.

Although, five months before, I wouldn't have ever imagined it.
One early Summer morning, I spotted an ultrasound scan on my father's desk.
I didn't think much of it, until I noticed the date.
"August '99"
The rage that rose up, burnt my insides.
I remember shaking and having to sit down.
How could they do this to me? To us?
Once, I exhaled and sorted myself out, I ran upstairs and woke up Ma Soeur Ainee... I had to check with her.
To prove it's real.
That it was happening.
They didn't tell me.

...and here we are, nine years later.
With a spack of a brother who I can't bear to be without for more than a few hours.
I've spent the past nine years devoted to Little One.
When he was still scaly and red from the womb, it wasn't mother who'd wake up when he cried.
It was me.
At some point between that shocking August morning and the rainy Winter day, I had decided to take full responsibility of my new sibling.
I had just been awarded a full scholarship at my school, but it didn't mean anythign anymore... I just wanted to be with Little One.

When my younger sister was a baby, I used to help mother look after her.
I'd make the milk, do the nappy if it was only wet, feed her etc.
With Little One, I took it up a notch.
I bathed him, clothed him, fed him, played with him, changed his hideously stinky nappies, clipped his nails, used Sudocream when I thought necessary.
I didn't allow mother to do anything.
I was selfish. It wasn't anything to do with letting mother rest.
I just wanted Little One.

The first time he cut his head.
I bundled him into the back seat of the car, even before mother had time to put on her shoes.
I spoke to the receptionist, the nurses and then the doctor.
Mis Padres thought I was trying to be helpful.
No. It was Little One who was hurt.
My Little One.

A few weeks ago, the family upset him a lot.
...and nothing I said could console him.
Later that night, as we were lying on the floor doing our breathing exercise, he said to me,
"You know you're my best friend, right? If I ever say you're not, I'm lying..."
Nothing 'Modo said to me that night could keep me from weeping.

Last year, when he broke his arm playing football.
I fell down the stairs in my hurry to see what had happened.
...I was petrified.
It reminded me of the time I was in school when he was taken to the doctors because of his asthma.
He stopped breathing, and had to be blued in to hospital where he spent three nights.
He came home and wouldn't look at me.
I spent the night in hospital with him, this time.
...and we both woke up early, and spent all morning chatting.

We can chat for hours on end.
...and he'll get me, and I get him.
We can talk about all sorts.
For a 9 year old, he's pretty mature.
Then again, for a 20 year old, I'm fuck immature.

I still find it strange that his parents don't know what his favourite colour is, or what he absolutely hates eating...
They buy him ill fitting clothes.
... and speak to him like he's still a toddler.

They don't see the dancer, the artist, the singer, the comedian, the advisor, the cook, the scientist, the friendly boy that makes up Little One.

I always take Little One out wherever I go.
...and we're always called Mother and Child.
Even when we're with the family, no one accepts that his mother and father are standing next to us.
But, it's easy to see why.
He comes to me when he's got a question, when he learns something new, when he hurts himself, when he can't find something.
The only time he ever goes to mum if he ruins something.
He knows I'll go ape shit...

It's strange.
Nine years ago, I myself was a child.
Now, here I am, discussing whether the XFactor was a fix with Little One whilst he's snuggled up in the blanket I got him all those years ago.

I really hope he has a really happy birthday, and that his dreams and wishes all come true...
This year has been really tough on such a gentle soul, I really hope that he never has to deal with so much shit in such little time in future years.

Bah Humbug!

I really am the Ugly Duckling.
With a mother from the Grinch lineage, and a father born into the Scrooge family, I really should follow suit and hate this season.
My siblings do.

But, it's the one time of the year I love.
Ever since I started school...

But it's always been a huge build up ending with a massive disappointment which takes me a few days to get over.

This year, there wasn't much of a build up, but I was still disappointed.
See, it's LittleOne's birthday around the same time.
...and he wanted this to be his last birthday party, 'cause he feels too old. Fair enough.
It's also our GodSon's birthday the same day.
I've been busy right up until Christmas Eve with work.
...and I told my siblings and mother to do a few simple things.
Order a personalise cake. Take LittleOne to computer game shop. Get a turkey. Buy GodSon a MakaPaka toy or a plate/bowl/spoon/cup set (to encourage him to eat solids).
Four things.
I came home on Christmas Eve and they didn't do one thing.
I got in a strop so they farted to an expensive patisserie (ON CHRISTMAS EVE) and ordered a ghastly cake that no one would ever eat.
I went straight to bed.
Christmas Day was so depressing.
The sisters were asleep.
Mum was annoyed that we didn't wash up first thing in the morning.
Dad's watching his religious TV.
Little One on his gameboy.
A normal day.
No tinsel. No presents. No food.

We have a family tradition.
Every Christmas Day, we go for a drive in the night.
To see everyone's decorations in our city.
We didn't do that this year.

The magic's all gone.

It just shows what happens when I don't have any money, and I don't do anything myself.

...7 People I've lost this year...

to death.

My cousin, my uncle from Germany, Gurps, Nasiha, my eldest Khalu, the Littlest One and now Indy...

Cancer, a car accident, flames, suffocation, old age/kidney failure, appendicitis, meningitis....
They've all snatched someone away.
Fathers, sons, brothers, sisters, daughters... Friends.

I still can't help but be selfish, and think is it me that God's punishing?
...because I've decided that religion isn't for me?

The Eye of the Storm.

Calm.
Still.
Silence.
It's all quite unnerving.

The tears have stopped flowing.
The nights haven't been so restless.
...and the eczema seems to have been kept at bay.

I guess rearranging my room has helped.
Everytime I've felt absolutely hopeless, I've changed my room around.
Pushing heavy furniture around really does take the stress out.
Yoga on Friday nights is another great stress buster.

I guess my new phone helps as well.
(The cool Nokia 5000 that I managed to get for £1.99!)
I've had the ear phones plugged in for the past four days, and just having proper music to tune out to has been more than a relief.
(Yes, I still haven't got an iPod... Let's see if I can keep it up for another couple of years.)

But I'm not stupid to think that it's all over now.
...There's more to come.
The storm isn't over yet.

That doesn't mean I don't welcome the break from the upsetNess that had overtaken my life.
It's actually helped.
I had my first driving lesson in over a year and a half... and I've written my personal statement for UCAS... I just need to ask Salman Khan if he could be my referee.
I've decided to drop my job at the Optician's as much as I love it.
I have become capitalised.
I went for money, instead of satisfaction.
I'm going to be at the local Bengali Community Centre full time, doing shit all.
It probably won't help with my stress problem, but hey, money is money.
...and when you've got an arse like Kumar threatening you for money, it's an amazing offer.

The ad I put on GumTree has been far less than fruitful...
The only realistic person I've managed to find to take salsa is a girl... Lol.
But, on the plus side, I've found lots of weird ePeople to have random conversations with.
Oh.
I've found some very Yummy ePeople, indeed.
They correct my English!
One can converse with me in French!
The other one is just a psycho!
I'm in eLove.

...and I've become an eWhore.
I'm so quick to give out pictures.

But, no, they're no way near Quasimodo's eCharm.
He was meant to fuck me this weekend just gone.
Ok. He doesn't/didn't know that.
I just wanted it to happen.
...and it didn't.

But, I spoke to him on Friday.
...and he just made me melt.
When he speaks, it's like his words trickle down me like the steaming hot stream of water that I inch into every morning for my shower.
They make me shivver, but feel so warm at the same time.

...but the cosy duvet will be snatched away from me.
I can feel it.
Ma Soeur Ainee's shenanigans have only just been brought to my parent's attention.
They've only seen the tip of the iceberg.
There's more to piss them off.
...and the anger they'll feel will be then taken out on me.

...I must be prepared.

I don't even know what to call it anymore...

Frustration?

Anger?

Despair?

Sorrow?



I thought, foolishly, I could get out of the house this weekend.

Go to Kenan's on Friday, then spend the night with Modo on Saturday...

In my excitement, I forgot about my parents hating me.



I didn't even have to ask them, to set them off.



Mum keeps asking why all of us like to stay alone in our rooms with the doors closed.

Why they've never had us around as their children.

...Well, when have they welcomed us? When have they been around us?



I want to move my cupoard...

...and I can't.

I just want to cry, but it's not going to move it.

...but there's no way I'm asking them for help.



I just want to cry.

Oxy Moron

Kenan once wrote a poem in Year 4.
"On. Off.
Black. White.
My bed shits are flying."
It was a poem about opposites, and apart from that spelling mistake, well actually that line, it describes me.

Outside: Switch On the smile, Switch Off the emotions.
Home: Switch On the tears, Switch Off everything else.
Everywhere is White, but my Home.

It's so easy to switch.
One minute you're strutting down the road, a spring in your step.
Every few minutes, someone compliments you, says hello... notices you.
You smile, you wave, you laugh.
You start conversations with strangers, you take pleasure in feeling the rain on your skin, you thank every driver when you cross, even though they're at red lights.
Your confidence and your ease with yourself, your environment and people is a beautiful sight.

You cross into the other realm.
You shut the front door, and like the mimes who can easily change a smile to a frown or vice versa, you tense up, the muscles on your forehead furrowed, tears prick your eyes.
You can hardly string sentences, and manage grunts and few words when spoken to.
Yours eyes lose their magic, and you hide them.

It's no wonder you love Oxymorons so much.
...you even chose to be called Oxim Oron on Facebook at one point.

Random Ramblings...

I hate it.
I hate that part.
Not the bit where you're being lulled to sleep, feeling safe to not have to tip toe around.
No, not those five, ten, on you're really good days twenty minutes where you think things might be going your way.
Not even the times when you feel so calm you could curl up and just bask in the warmth of your blissful state.

No.
I'm talking about the bit that comes after that.
That slap that stings.
The part that makes you wake up and realise.
The moment the tears spring back to your eyes, and that feeling washes over you.
That feeling.
A remix of Despair, Hopelessness, and Regret.

Regret for foolishly thinking everything was alright.

With everytime your eyes well up again, you wish there wasn't a next time.
...and everytime realisation dawns on you, you pray and you hope that you're not coaxed back into that false feeling of calm and peace.
Just so that it can be snatched away again.

Isn't it better to stay in one consistent way, than to keep getting happy only to be let down again.
What's that phrase?
Prevention is better than cure.
And ho-hum glum is better than disappointment.
...for me.

There's only so much disappointment one can take.

In the BottomLess Pit.

I woke up and thought there was a small rodent on my pillow.

No... just another clump of my hair.

Another thing to add to The Stress List.

Actually, there's another one.
My typing has gone really bad, as well as my sense of spelling.
I had to ask LittleOne how to spell graffiti last night, and I'm still having issues spelling it now.

How long can I carry on like this?
Only eating dates through the day, and then dinner with the family.
Staying my room, only coming out to eat dates, use the toilet or go to work.
Tearing up every few minutes, and then spending another 20 minutes trying to calm myself down.
Taking a mixture of Nytol, Piriton and Night Nurse at night, so I can knock out when my head hits the pillow and I don't have to think anymore.
Only speaking properly to LittleOne, and uttering the basics to the rest of the family.

I want to tidy my room.
...but I seem to end up curled up in my bed instead.

I washed my hair this morning.
It looks like I drowned it in chip fat, already.

I can't speak on the phone without that lump growing in my throat.

I can't go through with The Plan.
I cry everytime I think of it.

FaceBook Ban.

I've been banned from FaceBook.
...but I don't understand why.

I've had naughty pictures up on there since last year.

It's 'cause of that group.
"Embrace the Nudity"
I can't find a few of the other pictures that were up there, and those people have vanished off FaceBook World, too.

Lol.

I is well bad, bredrin!

Attention Whore.

I'm keeping a tally.
... a record.

I like to mark every line down, and after every four I love that big diagonal stroke.

The area I work in is not a good area.
Drug Deals, Litter, Working Class Racist folk of all races, Lol.
But, I like one thing, that possibly most people in this society don't...

The male drivers.

I walk to and from work everyday, and it involves me walking from the bottom of this cruddy road right up to the top.
I've tallied 34 Beepings at me since 8.28 this morning.
That includes popping into Gregg's at lunch, too.
There's been 12 "Alright Beautiful/Gorgeous/Sexy/Darling/Stunner/Fitty/[insert other "nice" word]" today.

Considering my previous post, about my acne and greasy hair.
...and the fact that I wear a hideous coat, and my trousers being too big for me, I still got it!
Yea, ok, these men are just sleazing and would do/say the same to a tree with knots shaped like an arse and boobs..
...but I love it.

I was tempted a few times to go up and start chatting, but then I remembered the area.
Too close.
Too risky.

Saturdays are my skirt days.
I can't wait.

Flick, Flick, Flick....

'Cause I have nothing better to do at 1am on Monday morning.

..even though I have to be up early to get ready (and straighten my hair) for work.

Yes. I have a bruise.

God knows how I got it, though.

...and after reading a certain email I received recently, I felt like taking a picture of my arse

...Makes. Me. Wanna. Scream.

..or get back into bed..

The nightmares have started again.

Now it makes sense.
All those sleepless nights, being frightened of everything.
They come with stress.
..or worry..
or whatever it is the family make me feel...

It's ma soeur ainee's birthday today.
...and I'm meant to act happy, and all smiles.

Dad went and got her quite a nice cake.

It's weird.
He always waits for 12.36 to say Happy Birthday to her.
No one even remembers when I was born.
They celebrate her birthday 'cause they're happy.
They "celebrate" mine, because they think if they don't I'll get upset.

Apparently I taught Little One how to have mood swings.
No one sees that I taught him manners and how to do things for himself.
No one sees the effort I put in to teach him grammar and his time tables.
No one else answers his constant questioning with proper answers, no one takes out the time to find out about the sports he likes so that he can have a decent conversation.
No, they see me in his mood swings, they see me when he's being stubborn..

But do they see themselves in my anger, my violent behaviour, the destruction around me?
Can they not see who is behind the curses that leave my mouth?
Is it not them who taught me about aggression?

Father can't stand me.
At all.

I think he may hate me.

So, what's the point in even trying?

You clean the house, organise his papers.
You make him breakfast, coffee, bring him ice cold water in his decanter, file his feet and massage his legs...
You try your best to organise the household, you make doctors and dentist appointments, you arrange hospital appointments, you try and pick up the kids when you can...

...and he still thinks the other girls are precious, and you're just there to do their crap.

Step 1: Planning - Sorting out Finances.

If I put a pound in my ISA for every day I work, I will save £22 by the end of this year.
So, if I have a higher rate, I should save more.

If I keep doing this for four years (for the same amount of days worked per month), I could possibly save over £2,000.
Is that enough?

What about when my student loans come through?
How about putting £50 a month during each term?
That's about an extra £900 saved.

What if I worked extra?
Or, worked through holidays?
What if that Teaching Agency got me a few placements, and Amana pulled up their socks and had a consistent project running?
How much extra would I be able to put away?

Another few hundred?
That would get me over the £3,000 mark.

...and what about what I should have in my account anyway?
If in one year, over £5,000 can pass through my account, then over four years that would be £20,000.
Couldn't I spend less and save more?
Put a few pennies in the ISA every week?
Would that be enough?

Would it be sufficient for what I plan to do.
...or would it be wiser to wait an extra year?
A student living in London can get by on £6,000 a year.
Surely, I'd be alright with something around the £5,000 mark?
That would be enough, no?

How much is enough, though?
How much is enough for escaping?

Written on The Roof.

Droplets fall down the window pane.
Droplets fall down my cheeks, again.
Rage, Fury, Anger, Hurt...
Neglect, Sorrow...
Some of the things I've felt.

Colours go grey.
Stars don't shine.
Smiles show happiness,
I'm afraid I've lost mine.

A bruise, an ache,
A happy smile replaced by a Fake.
A cut, some scars.
She's allowed it all, so far.

Night after night,
She is restless and has no sleep.
Her only solace is those few moments with Deep.

Time is passing,
he clock ticks on, slowly.
Storm's a brewing,
not too long, she worries.

She feels it inside,
She can feel it erupting.
She doesn't want to bear these burdens anymore;
She doesn't want to be the Ugly Duckling.

Ramblings...

I might have a job.
I start my "two week trial period" on Monday.
I sound like a product.

It's a tiny Optician's, with a woman who drools and has shakey eyes.

The Job Centre gave me £100 to spend on new clothes.
I abused it!
Not as much as I should have, though.
Oh well, two tops, three pairs of trousers, a skirt, and a pair of shoes isn't that bad, considering I didn't pay for them at all.

Amana still haven't got back to me about when they're starting.
=(
I was counting on that job.

Kumar messaged me again.
"Seeing as it's November now, when are you going to get my money to me?"
Lol.
She's so fucking up her arse.
She has three jobs.
Why is she so desperate to have a few pounds given back to her each month?
She knows I can't give it all back in one go.

Quasi is cute.
I've had dreams where I've used the L word with him.
... and I don't care that it's all doom and gloom in the future.
'Cause it's nice and fuzzy right now.

OMG.
My battery died in my vibe.
After 11 months, I was so shocked, and almost upset.
I forgot how powerful it is, though.

I think my Eczema's coming back.
I've had that weird Face Patch for over a year now.
..and now I've spotted patches on my arm that I keep itching.
Bring on the BetnoVate.

This extra horniness is adding to my SchlagNess.
I'm leading on a few guys, and I can't stop.
But none of them are like Quasi...
...Taylor comes VERY close, though.
Yum Yum Yum...

I love Tropicana.

I've been Viagra'd...

The past week has been very frustrating.
I've been horny non-stop since Friday.
I could have a frat slip and slide party going on in my pants right now.

I've been turned on in my sleep, too.
...and I've texted Taylor and Quasi whilst in a semi-concious state.

I'm actually sore from the amount of playtime I've had.
...but I can't stop.

I think I should've gone in for the kill when I was with Taylor last week.
I should've sat on his lap, and grinded away into bliss.

I so need a good seeing to.

Quasi says 4-6 weeks.
I don't think I can wait that long.
I think the next time I see him will be It.
I can't wait...

The thought of having him inside me is just too much right now.

....and it's Half Term so the kids are home and I've not got any privacy at all.
I think I might kill myself.

Pieces...

'Cause I'm a Camera Whore.

I'm losing weight...

..and I'm not even trying.
I never had an arse, but I swear I've lost half of what there was...

My belly's gone down...
so have my boobs, I think.

I don't understand!
I'm not as active as I usually am.
I eat left over chips, from the night before, for breakfast.
I'm just a slob!

Oh. Well.

I look nearly Yummy.

Pictures:

Yummy Taylor

Feeling shit and having had such a terrible week, I decided I wouldn't reschedule my plans to see Taylor...
I booked my tickets last night to see him.

...I guess I just wanted some male attention.
I wore a short skirt, suspenders and knee highs.
I woke up at half 5 to shave any left over hairs from my wax session!

I'm glad I went to see him.
He took me to Nandos.
I haven't had Nandos (in England) since May/June.
He took me to watch Eagle Eye.

He held my hand, and let me rest my head on his shoulder.
...and he tried to regrow his stubble, specially for me.
=)
It wasn't properly stubble, though.

It's not like I ever hid the fact that I fancied him.
Everyone knows.
Even back when I was in Sixth Form, and I met him for the first time round; He made me feel like putty.

He let me play with his ear lobe.
Squeeze his hand when I got startled..
..and snuggle into his neck.

Sometimes, that's all a girl just needs.
A chance to play with ear lobes and be cuddled.

But, is it right to be snuggling up to another guy - as yummy as he is - when you've got a HunchBack thinking of you...?
But then again, HunchBack hasn't spoken to you in a while, and hasn't replied to any texts sent either...

I felt his finger trace a line from my arse down to the back of my knee at the movies, and I caught him glancing down my top when he thought I wasn't looking.
I think he even tried to kiss me, when I hugged him goodbye.

...and a part of me is kicking Nessy.
He's too Yummy.

Ribbit, I am a Frog.

Things have been getting harder and harder as each day comes.
...and I've been getting more and more upset.

I've been asking myself how it got so bad all day.
How did I not see the shit surrounding me?

It feels like I've gone back to my life when I was 16.
The days when taking an overdose happened so often, no one batted an eyelid.
The days of telling horror stories to the girls at school about my homelife.
The time when I desperately wanted to get married just to get out of prison I called home.
When I didn't care about what I wanted, I just wanted to please my parents so they'd make things easier for me.

The boundaries are being put back into place.
The shift in power is noticeable.
Rules are being brought back from storage and dusted off, ready to be used again.
Curfews are being set once again.

How did I not see any of this? I ask myself.

Then I remember, The Frog Theory.

A frog dropped into boiling water has sense to leap out, but a frog dropped into cold water can be cooked to death before he realises he is in serious trouble.

I didn't notice the small things.
The times when the parents would get slightly pissed off.
The parents telling us to come home a bit early tonight...
I didn't notice the gradual changes... and adapted to their will..
Now I feel like I'm living in a place that's killing my spirit.

I had the most scariest thought today.
I thought to myself, maybe if I stopped speaking to my friends and stopped having a social life, maybe, just maybe, my parents would like me more.
Trust me more..
Lift these ridiculously limits.

But they wouldn't.
Because I'm their middle daughter.

I spent forty five minutes in the bathroom trying to calm myself.
To stop my lips from trembling, my eyes from watering.
To prevent that awful pain in my throat everytime I try not to cry.
After a face wash, I thought I managed.
...I didn't even get into the passage, before I had to hide behind the bathroom door again.
But what's the use in crying?
If I cry every time they upset me, disappoint me, ignore me, I'd draught my eyes.
...and no one likes dry eyes.

.Vivid.

I've been having trouble sleeping again.
Not the "staying awake" kind of trouble.
...but the "I sleep, but have terribly vivid dreams and wake up more exahusted" kind.

Saturday night, I dreamt that I was sleeping in Quasi's arm.
...and it felt like I was.
Disappointment has the fist of a Bully.

I even read back a text I sent to 'Modo at 5am.
I have no recollection of writing it.

Last night, I dreamt of many things:
Babies giving birth to twins.
My cousins from Derby.
Working in a nursery, RatBoy waiting in a car for me.
Berg (Two Guys and a Girl fame) hi-fiving me.
Josh Hartnett kissing me tenderly.
..I know!
I didn't even realise I liked Hartnett boy.

Taylor and I playing, like young adolescents at the back of a cinema hall.
Quasi wrapping his arms around me, kissing my forehead.
His smell.
The feel of his Moobs squishing under chin.

I can remember almost every dream I had last night.
They all felt so real.
I can remember the smells, the way things felt.
The way I felt!

...I woke up sweating, exhausted, and found myself wanting to say,
"Gosh, I'm tired, I need some sleep"

But, I just woke up!

Stress.

The last time I posted here, I was quite poorly.
A couple of nights before I was chucking my guts up.
Earlier that day I had received a few emails saying I was unsuccessful, yet again.
I still didn't know who my sister was staying with in London, or where.
But, I did know that she was still talking to GAY; and possibly staying with him.
Kumar had FaceBooked me earlier asking me when I could get the rest of the money to her.
...and I hadn't spoken to Quasi in a week, I think.

I hadn't been sleeping properly, either.
All these thoughts.
Ruminations.
Worries.

I was walking back from buying food for stupid guests we were having that night.
..and I found myself panicking at the thought of returning home.
I didn't want to come back.

But, I had to.
Guests were coming.
So, I did.

I cleaned the house, prepared the food and even attempted to tidy up the mess that I call a bedroom.
I'd been sighing a lot, almost finding it a task to breathe normally.
...and after spending that time working around the house, my head started to feel light.

So I excused myself to my bedroom, armed with Philly Cheese, Crackers, a bottle of Southern Comfort and a jug of Vimto and Lemonade.
I started reading my Grammar book; it's always close by for times when I need something to distract me.
...and I started mixing my VimtAid with the Southern Comfort.
It tasted nice, so I mixed in more.
Fifteen minutes later, the bottle was empty, and it felt like the room was spinning.

I totally didn't associate this feeling with the amount of alcohol I had just drank.
Considering, I usually don't drink more than a very diluted glass at a time.
..and I remembered that I was feeling light-headed earlier any way.
So, I thought I must be coming down with something.

I tried to sort out my calendar.
...Still need to reschedule the photoshoot, the Show's on Sunday - must get CDs ready and Little One hasn't rehearsed yet, have to pop into some strange recruitment office with my passport at 10am on Monday...
So many things to do, to remember.
I could feel it bubble up.
The panic.
The feeling that isn't it enough time.
The worry.
The Bitch that we all know as Stress.

It wasn't panic, nor worry, nor stress. though.
It was vomit.

I managed to crawl to the bathroom door and stand up just in time.
I didn't get close to the toilet, but I managed to aim the projection at the bowl.
Coriander leaves came out of my nose.

I wish I could use some metaphor to describe how the poison leaving my body was similar to the stress relief.
But, wait.
The stress was still there.

I cleaned up the bathroom, gargled with mouthwash, and cleaned my nose out.
My parents came up after the guests left and asked what all the racket was about.

I went to bed.
Still worrying, still planning, still sorting things out.
I was woken up at 8am to make a doctor's appointment for father.
The post rattled the letterbox, a notice to say my sister's gone over her overdraft, mother has x amount of debt still outstanding, and lots of letters to say, "Sorry, Nessy, we just don't want you".

This year has knocked the stuffing out of me, bit by bit.
...and I think that was the last of it.
I went back to bed.

I finally got up at 3pm.
Typical Bum time to wake up.
...but, surely, I live a different lifestyle to a Bum...?

What's going on in her head...?

Random words:

Bed sheets. Bra. AntiSeptic. Boobies. Money. Vibrator. MouthWash. Job Search. Kiss. Vomit. Southern Comfort. Bum. Bite. My Skirt. Alone. Temperature. Moan. Fever. Bite. Skin. Headache. His Floor. Stupid Sister.

...DeepNessy...

I wrote this last year.

The sun fell between the leaves of the big tree and dappled across her face,
highlighting her eyelashes as she slowly fluttered her eyes and finally closed
them again. She lay under the tree, on her front with her head rested on her
crossed arms. She welcomed the rays of sunshine that bell in between the leaves
and on her bare skin…
Deep leant back against the tree and continued to
caress her foot with an ear of corn. He moved it gingerly up and down the sole
of her foot, hardly letting the little fibres touch her skin. The sudden contact
would surprise and tickle her, making her curl her toes and let out a giggle…
She was spending the weekend in a countryside cottage, which was her idea of
Hell. However, it turned out that she felt as if she were in paradise; with the
warm sun massaging her back, the smell of freshly cut grass and lack of noise
awakening her senses… & Deep’s company…
He could see the smug look on
her face as she smiled to herself, and his own lips curled into a smile. He was
in a playful mood and wanted her to wake up from her daydream. He got on all
fours and crawled towards her, so that he was able to look at the freckles on
her bronzed back. He gently blew on her neck, knowing it would stir her from her
peaceful state. She let out a small gasp and shrugged her shoulders to reveal a
curve in her back, starting from the bottom of her neck to where her dress
started. Even through the thin white material, he could see that it ended at her
lower back. Feeling mischievous, he stroked the ear down the curve; making her
squirm more the lower he moved it. He stopped abruptly when he reached the
bottom, allowing her to move to a more comfortable position to play with him,
but she curled her legs under her and went back to daydreaming in the sun.
Deep wasn’t satisfied, the sight of her exposed mocha coloured skin was
creating thoughts in his mind, which resulted in a rapid increase in size at his
crotch.
He reached over to the basket of fruit and brought a grape to his
lips. He bit into the deep red fruit, releasing its juices. He placed the sweet,
soft, pink flesh between his lips and pressed his body against hers as he
reached over for her arm. He kissed her slowly up the arm, letting the juice
from the grape fall on her skin. The feeling of each droplet on her bare skin
felt intense as she squeezed her eyes shut and felt him throbbing against the
small of her back. Deep began to use his tongue to gently flick the juice off
her and she responded by letting out a barely audible moan.
He took this as
a sign of approval and continued sucking and licking the juice up her arm. He
got to Nessy’s neck and reached around to her other shoulder and turned her
over, so that she was lying on her back.
She unhurriedly opened her eyes to
look at him, her fingers delicately tracing the contours of his chest, his
breath softly moving the hairs around her neck. She let out a sigh, and then
smiled, only to find Deep smirking at her. Nessy tenderly smoothed her finger
over his bottom lip, using her other hand to slowly bring his face closer to
hers. She closed her eyes and tasted the cocoa butter lip balm that she had
forced on him a few hours ago. Her lips massaged his bottom lip, whilst playing
with his earlobe between her index and middle finger. Dee attempted to use his
tongue, when she turned her face and pushed him away. She smiled coyly and bit
her bottom lip, only making him get more frustrated.
With no warning, like a
vampire, he went for her neck making her writhe and squirm under all the
pressure, she arched her back and dragged her nails down his back. She felt
herself pulsate between her legs and moved her hands back to his chest, her
hands feeling their way under his shirt, her nails lightly passing over his
navel. Whilst moving further down with his kisses, Deep guided her hand down his
trousers gently, holding her hand in his, together they wrapped their hands
around his shaft. He let go of her hand and started stroking her thigh, making
her grip him a bit tighter. He pushed her dress up higher, and parted her legs
slightly; he then carried on letting his finger flutter against her skin,
travelling inwards and upwards until he reached her knickers.
She released
her grip and moved her fingers up towards his snail trail and lightly tickled
his skin, hoping that by doing so, Deep would follow suit. Her black-netted
knickers were becoming damp, and she felt there to be a warmth trying to rise up
outside of her; she yearned for his fingers to brush the material to one side,
and finally, dance inside her. Deep gently traced the patterns of the
butterflies on her knickers, lightly, with hardly any pressure, so that his
fingers couldn’t be felt on her skin, just the movement of the material. Nessy
inhaled and bit her lip, her nails slightly scraping his skin, she tried hard to
keep her eyes open but they refused to obey her mind and were tightly shut. His
thumb rubbed at the butterfly that was situated directly on top the opening of
her lips, making her whimper and raise her lower body towards him; she
desperately wanted him to touch her pounding sweet spot. His fingers ran up the
net, and he played with the pink satin ribbon, making it rub against the skin on
her tummy. He tucked a finger under the waistline and felt the contrast of
textures between the satin ribbon at the waistline and the net; he enjoyed
seeing her crave him to be inside her and carried on playing with the fabric
whilst watching her facial muscles tense and crumple up if he accidentally let
his fingers glide over her skin.
Unsatisfied with the way things were going,
Nessy curled her fingers around his sack, and tightened her grip, making him
flinching his hands away from her. She looked at him under her creased forehead,
her eyes strong and dark – she meant business. She traced her fingers back up
from under his pants, to his chest up to his neck… she massaged his jaw and
nibbled on his bottom lip… Her hand forced his down under her knickers; she felt
relieved and let go of his lips and let her pleasure be known by moaning loudly.

He said it was almost Mills and Boons-ish.
He did like it, though.
Maybe I should write another one?
...We still haven't fulfilled that fantasy.
The Downs really isn't the best place...
But, I've been thinking, and the park behind our old house is perfect.

Vanity.

Here's some pictures.

...Because I love myself.

On the Dole...

I've been Jobless since April...
and last month my father made me get on the dole...

I've actually hit rock bottom, me thinks.

Maybe I'm applying to the wrong jobs?
Because for the past month, I've applied to probably three jobs a day, and I've been unsuccessful for every single one!

JobSeeker's Allowance is really crap as well, and I still owe Kumar all that money.
..but money isn't the biggest thing for me.

I'm just really, really, really, bored!
There's only so much cooking and cleaning one can do before feeling like they're going insane.

I think I might just have to go for a retail post, if I don't have a job by November.

Where do I stand...?

It's the question that I've asked myself so much this year, that I'm starting to not care anymore.

Kumar hates me.
...and I don't know why.
Still.
The only thing that I can think of, which might have pissed her off, is when I avoided her for a while.
She lied to me, and I was angry.
Surely, I'm allowed time out to calm myself down... Right?

She absolutely hates my guts, and was using FaceBook (for a while) to get back at me... Petty; on both our parts.
Hers for even doing it, and mine for getting so bothered.
I know for sure that she's spent entire nights with "The Girls" (something she wouldn't have, if it weren't for me... No offence to her or her social skills) bitching about me.
Yes, Kenan is a really good mate, and is quite loyal in situations like this.

All I have to do now, is pay Kumar back (a hefty £400.. That's what she's saying, I'm going to double check), get my shoes, books, DVDs and clothes back, and then I can just get out of her life.

It's weird, isn't it?
You think someone's your best friend, a sister (to an extent), almost a soul mate...
...and they spring this kind of crap on you...

..and then there's others, who you're the same with everyday.
Yet you want to change...
Quasi came to see me on Wednesday.
...and I turned to jelly.
Vocally, I tried my best to stay calm and resist him.
...but they say, actions speak louder than words...
and when you're in the middle of a forest with your knickers in his pocket, and his fingers inside you, i don't think you can send any stronger message than that...

It's nearly a year and a half since we first met.
... and it's getting harder and harder for me to convince myself that I can get out of it easily...
It's nearly two years that I've liked him.
...and the liking has grown into something I'm scared of.
(No, not obsession.. Although I can definately say he's my infatuation...)

I told him, that I left the house thinking I was going to end it.
But, I couldn't.
And I can't...
I need him to shag me first.

I mean, that was possibly one of the first things that ran through my mind when I first spoke to him.

He suggested we "end it" but carry on doing the fun stuff...
But then what would I be ending?
So far we've both kept our feelings from each other.
Well, I've tried the best I can.
...and end of the day, the attraction was always more about the physical.

But.
I.
Don't.
Know.

I have no idea where I stand...

A month focusing on Religion...

It's officially the end of Ramadhan...
Wahey!

I've spent about two weeks actually starving myself, and the rest of the time, I've managed to sneak food into my ever-hungry gob.
I've not prayed once... (the Salah obligatory prayers; I still chat to God every so often...)
I've not read the Qur'an.. Although, I have started reading the translation this month.
I've not even tried to become a better person.

BUT... I've spent every night of this month having deep discussions about Islam...
and my issues and confusion about it...

Yes, he's biased and he will tell me the horrible stuff about Islam..
but he's the only person doing it!
No one else will tell me... and I'm far too lazy/stupid to find out for myself...

But, I think it's clear from my actions, that I'm not practising.
Unfortunately, I think too many people know.
So, I need to start being "an angel" again.
Oh dear.

...I still don't feel right, though.

Oh.. er, Hello. I forgot this place existed...

Yes.
I'm horrible.
I neglected my Blog.

Sorry.

But, I'm back now, and hope to blog a bit more regularly than I have so in the past.

So, I guess a catch up is in order?


Well, this year hasn't been good to me.

As I've mentioned before, I've had two bereavements, the family had a financial crisis, i had (and am still having) issues/doubts/worries about my life and so i dropped out of uni and now I'm going to work for a year, I stopped speaking to Kumar for a good three months.
Oh, and the usual "Where do I stand" problem with Quasimodo.


I don't understand how things got so bad with Kumar... Just that slowly, one thing after another, she began to annoy me... and so I avoided her. Which annoyed her...
...then after a month of not talking to each other, she just came out with "I guess that's the end of our friendship"...
..and she acted like it was the end of a relationship, she asked for all her things back, and she started giving bits and pieces of my stuff back...
She also became petty, and used Facebook to show that she was living life without me.
The girl, that I basically was surgically attachd to for three years, had moved on and I was left with nothing, it seemed.
I guess it felt like that, 'cause of all my family problems, and i had no job and nothing to do with my time anymore.

But Kenan was there for me, and so was Shmeegal.. so I managed fine.
...and I ended up getting a permanent job; I teach KS1 children at a supplementary weekend school... I can't wait to go back in October.

Quasimodo became immensely busy; expected.
Wedding Season and all...
He became an M.D of a Law Firm, as well... So is now more busier than he used to be.
To be honest, with everything going wrong this year, I think by January it's all going to go downhill for us...
I wish it didn't.
I think I love him.

I spent a month in Bangladesh...
How I let myself get on that plane, I do not know..
I guess, 'cause I was busy taking care of mum, I kind of forgot that it was Bangladesh I was going to.
Oh, yea... Mum had a collapsed lung.
Scariest Shit in my life.
I thought she was going to die. Seriously.
..but she's a soldier, and the day she came back from hospital she started cleaning up again.
Stupid Lady.

Bangladesh itself was alright.
Better than I expected, but I still cried most nights.
There's an 18/19 year old boy over tehre who thinks I'm his girlfriend.
Fun(!)
I think it was hte most expensive holiday, ever.
We spent atleast 500 a day! Pounds, not Takas...

I've started speaking to MakaVeli again.
Oh. Dear.
He gives me attention, when I want it.
It's on tap.
...But he never makes me come as well as Quasi...
I've also started speaking a lot to Taylor. He's so Yummy.
I find myself fancying him a lot these days. ...and he knows it.
If only he didn't have issues like I did ('Modo style issues) then I would try to take it further.
Blatantly, I just want to lick his face.

Ma Soeur Ainee and I have been geting much better...
I think she classes me as a friend... I don't know.
But, it's been helpful, especially with this Kumar business.
Kenan's been amazing as well.

TrouserSnake, on the other hand, has cut off all contact with me as well.

2008 has not been kind to me, at all.

BackStreet Boys - Unbreakable - 8/5/08

(Written in Diary: 10th May 2008)

It finally happened, after 10 years of fantasising, obsessing and being downright crazy about them. I finally went to a BSB concert.

..and they were amazing.

Still full of life and energy. Still the amazing performers I fell in love with when I was 10.

Still harmonising, still leaving me breathless with their melodies...

Still dancing, and doing little numbers. Still playing their drums and guitars.



I was quite far back, on the ground floor, so I couldn't see much.

But, the show started on time, and someone popped up on stage, and introduced the show...

No one gave a damn, but I recognised the voice.

Howie.

He introduced his new talent : George (I really need to MySpace him).

George is amazing. Quite possibly BSB material.

He can dance, sing, and play the guitar and piano.

...and he's gorgeous!

He sang a few numbers, did the typical thing of bringin a girl up on stage and singing to her... sang one final song to which he played the piano... and left...

Then came the wait which seemed to last for, like, two hours! Everytime we saw movement on the stage, or changes in the light we'd start screaming. We being Me and Kenan... Everyone else was so boring! Except for the gay guy behind me; he was amazing.

After the stupid wait, everyone just started standing up and clapping, and Kenan and I just started screaming. This was it... I had been waiting for this moment for over 10 years.

The Boys were Backstage, and were shown/introduced one by one on the big screen. They were all dressed up as boxers and had the Eye of the Tiger music playing.

Then the lights went up, and they were in a boxing ring. Seriously, these guys never fail to come up with something random.

I can now say, with my hand on my heart, that BSB are entertainers. Not only did they sing, they danced, joked, incorporated songs such as Kanye West's Stronger and Micheal Jackson's Beat It into the show... I was on my feet the whole time.

Apparently, they're touring in America in three years' time, and I'm definately going to be prepared to follow them.

Bereavement...

My uncle passed away two days after my cousin.
Weird, huh?

At that time, I was busy comforting my mother, and taking care of the household responsibilities...
(It was around the same time we received the bad news about my parents and moneys...)

I then withdrew myself from people, society and life in general.
(which would explain why I didn't blog about it... )

We went to Germany in the holidays, to offer company and support to our aunty and cousin...

Since then, I've lost the few friends I had.
People said I didn't make an effort with them.
I've dropped out of university as well (totally unrelated.. I just wanted to change my course)

...I only have Kumar left...
..and now, even that's messing up.

He gets Anal about things...

I met up with KbinWalid today.

Impulse decision.

I didn't plan it.
It didn't even cross my mind.

..but he asked me, and I said yes.

I wore a skirt, and a shirt.
My underwear that I bought to wear for 'Modo.
I wore them today.


He took me to his spare flat.
..and this time he was more forward.

He stood behind me, and ran his hands down my arse, the back of my legs, took them over my knees, caressed the fronts of my thighs and fingered the lacing of my underwear.It took me a while to regain composure and realise what was happening. So I moved, and sat down on the dusty sofa. He sat down next to me and smiled.

The smile you smile when you know you're in the company of someone inferior to you... Wait, that sounds wrong, obviously in the case it's not the horrible way... Just that he knew I was eventually going to let him have his way with me... Sort of.

He started a conversation about nothing. To make me feel comfortable, I guess... After a while, he started tracing patterns on my leg; moving upwards slowly. By this time, I totally forgot that I was madly obsessed about losing my virginity to Quasi... All I could think of was how damp my knickers were getting, and how I wanted him to move his hands further up.

I think it showed on my face, 'cause he moved his face close to mine, stroked my cheek and then kissed me.

A cute nanosecond kiss.

He kissed me again, and this time I kissed back... and as good as it did feel, it wasn't the same as kissing Quasimodo, so I hesitated.

He took that as a chance to move to the floor, and position his face between my legs. I was in turmoil, inside, I so badly wanted him to carry on, but I kept thinking about Quasimodo. I didn't say anything though.

You should never disturb the course of a river.

...and so, that afternoon, I messed around with him.

He massaged my breasts, I sat and grinded on his oh-so-big cock... and erm, he came up my arse.

It took my by surprise.... and was such a quick thing, that I was still shocked about the pain whilst he went about cleaning up the cum that was trickling down my leg.

So, I am no longer an Arse Virgin.

Wow.

"...and to Him we return..."

She passed away.
After spending nearly a month in ICU, shut away from her family.

The burns were extremely bad. Nothing was left of her back, legs...
Rest in Peace...
I didn't know you too well, actually I couldn't even remember you, but I do know that when I went to your house you'd take care of me, and love me like your little sister.

All this time I had been thinking, at least I'll know who she is this time I go to visit.
God didn't grant me that wish.
....but He saved you from the physical suffering.

I pray that your soul is restful, and that you are in a good place.
I hear that you were a good person.
Even before all this happened, people used to say you were the sister with most patience.

My heart bleeds for my father and my uncle.
Imagine seeing the child you raised pass away before you...

I can't stand to look at my father... My eyes well up.

This year resembles 2005, a lot.
Illnesses, death and financial troubles...

Is it all my fault? Because I'm confused with my beliefs, God is letting all this happen?
I don't know.

...Valentine's...

14th Feb... Girly Day...
The one day in the year, that I can truly dedicate to my girls...
That I will put aside everything else in my life, and only concentrate on my friends...

It's never about what the rest of the world do...
No, it's never bout Valentine's...
I've never worried about being dateless, or not having roses etc...

Yes, I've sent secret admirers cards... but to my girlfriends...
Never to any male interests... (unless they've been nothing but jokes)...
It's always been about my girls...

So today, why does my mind keep wandering off?
When I look at my roses, why do I keep hoping they were from someone else?
When I fell down whilst ice skating, why did I look around to see if there was someone else to help me up?
Why do I expect him to just walk out from the crowd and surprise me?
Why do I want him to do that?
Is that why I spent over an hour getting ready today?

I've fallen, and it's getting harder and harder to keep my feelings seperate from what's actually happening.

Taylor says, if you can't be a couple, then you should leave it, full stop.
This is the advice that Nessy usually gives to Spazzle...
So why can't the owner of both personalities listen to it?

I know I should end it...
It'll only get harder... but when? and how?
and why?
I don't understand...

I've not ever had a valentine, but right now, I really wish it was Quasimodo.

UK AMAs

It's that time of year again...
When everyone's trying hard to just get votes, and they don't care about anything else....

But Harm's different.
He's still trying to make DesiDesi a better place, even whilst he's trying to get more and more people to vote this year.

Basically, DesiDesi is an online magazine aimed at the Asian population...
Music, Entertainment, Gigs, Lifestyle articles...
They've got it pretty much covered...
They also have a forum, where they're running a competition at the moment...

Good Luck DesiDesi.
Good Luck Harm...

To vote for DesiDesi.Com as best site, go on to www.theukamas.com and follow the instructions.

Yes, there are better sites out there, but the owner of DesiDesi - Harm - actually loves the site, and does it for the people... and he doesn't receive a single penny...

Excusez moi, S'il vous plait?

Le Tour d'Eiffel... Photography was amazing... Kudos to Miss Abu Hamza...

My three days in Paris.
..C'était fantastique!

I went with SpongeBob Dribble Pants, GelAsh, Ma soeur aine, son petit copain, Sponge Cloth Towel, Sponge Cloth Towel's friend, and Apple Pie.
They were amazing.
I've never had so much fun before...
The company was honestly just great...

The actual city, was unbelievable!
It was *my* city.
Welcoming, friendly, sex-crazed.
The amount of men I flirted with, I couldn't begin to count...
Nearly everyone I stopped to speak to, and I stopped nearly everyone I passed.

I'm generally an outgoing social person, so talking to people doesn't scare me (as long as I can act confident).
Being the only French speaker, (my sister flopped it), I had to approach people and ask directions...
Turns out, most Parisians speak English... It didn't stop me from speaking French though..

We stayed in the 9th quarter, just off Rue Lafayette...
Le Grand Hotel Lafayette-Buffault.
It was soo quaint and pretty.
Not a nice bathroom though, and only one plug socket to share between four girls...

We found a Turkish Kebab House just around the corner, called Istanbul (closest Metro is Cadet)..
They made my life.
I fell in love.

The bits of sight-seeing we *did* get round to doing was amazing...

I'm definately going back again .
They have one of these, like, every 5 metres... The French know how to practice SafeSex...

The green man, who I looked forward to seeing everytime I had to cross the road... Although, many conduiteurs (I just made that word up... ) didn't really take notice of the RED LIGHT!

One of the most beautiful places in the world... I wish I could go back...

My opinion? I think some kind of gay orgy takes place there...

31 Days of Drama, Studies, and Confusion.

January usually is a quiet month, for me.
It involves a few exams, the 'flu and lots of comfort eating.

Considering I started the year off in a different way, I should've expected that the month itself wouldn't be so normal.

After coming back from the wedding on New Year's Day, I slept.
I slept pretty much a good 15 hours everyday for a week, knowing fully well I had an exam on the 8th.
Cue the panic on the 7th.
I stayed in the university library until 10pm that night... and I still didn't manage to research the case study.
Oops.
That's pretty much how the revision for the rest of my exams went.
I spent the exam period with Keeta, and went shopping and bought lots of useless things.

The following week, I spent with Kumar.
Cue the hilariousity and money wasting.
Minge was there, too.

They forced me out one Saturday evening... whilst I was greasy and hairy.
and they got me, what felt like something, tipsy.
I didn't like it.

I had an argument with 'Modo.
Well, not an argument really...
I uploaded a picture on FB... of my arm... with the bruises he gave me...
and I tagged him in it...
Oh, the drama!
Instead of telling me what was wrong, he decided not to tell me anything at all.
...and so I spent a whole week wondering why he hadn't returned my calls, and why he didn't text to wish me good luck in my exams and so on...
In the end, a silly text sent to him by mistake, made him call me and apologise...
Since then, he's been really cute and adorable... and keeps promising cuddles for when we next meet.
...which was meant to be the 30th, but Sod's Law meant that it didn't happen.

Many nights were spent on the phone to Kumar, regarding a certain TV.
*rolls eyes*
What a manipulative cry baby bitch.
He wanted to get with Kumar, thinking she's easy... and I just realised how typical and evil he is.
Thank goodness, neither one of us wanted "something" with him.
That's one person I'm glad not to count as a friend anymore.

I've spent two solid weeks watching DVDs every night, and spending a tenner on taxi fare from Kumar's house to mine at night.
Shit...
But, I've enjoyed myself... I really value her friendship, and I'm grateful I have her...
Finch, on the other hand, can go lick her phlange out.
I do not like her.
I know that's a terrible thing to say, but she annoys me.
She's not done anything directly horrible to me... but she annoys me.
I don't want to bitch about her, that much, so I'll leave it.

During wedding season, I discovered that Chayma's best friend was sNaKe...
Cue the probing and the questions... "What happened?" "Why don't you speak anymore?" etc etc...
Recently, I recieved a telephone call from SlagFace... apparently sNaKe's leaving to go back to the Motherland for 8 weeks... and he wants to say bye...
:
Right.
That's just what I need right now...
Another person who's drifted away to come back for only two seconds to say bye.
I didn't even get to speak to him, I was only granted a text...
I never got to tell him how much I missed him, and how special he was to me... and how everytime I get time alone to myself, I reminisc and regret my thinking...

I came across a few cool blogs to read, to keep me busy during those rare hours when I have nothing to do (usually in the weekends, when I'm locked up at home, pretending to be the good girl that I am)
Todger talk, and Bete de Jour.
I will link them, eventually!
(I'm on another computer, which doesn't have my favourites on it, and I can't be bothered to google them...)
But, Bete de Jour is lovely, from what I can make from his writing, and one of the guys on Todger Talk is absolutely hilarious. I think it's the Porno Mag man...
I love him..

Oooh, Uni gossip..
There's a man who lives in the library...
I'll tell you about him another time...

...Fear...

I've always been scared.
My first scary memory is when I still lived up North, and I used to think a murderer/burglar/ghost/monster was hiding in between the two inch gap underneath my parents' bed.
I was probably four.

Nothing has changed really, I'm now scared of what might be hiding in the tiny gap underneath my bed, ready to pounce on me at any moment.

When I was eleven, I watched the Exorcist, and I laughed all the way through.
What a waste of time, I said, as the credits rolled.
I couldn't sleep that night.
I haven't had many decent night's sleep since.

In Islam, there are beings called Jinns.
You can closely translate it to the English "Ghost".
I've been brought up with stories of these Jinns.
Jinns, and Black Magic and Witches that live in trees.
As Muslims, you're meant to believe in them.

When I went back to my parents' native country, apparently I was "caught by a ghost".
I changed completely; the way I interacted with my family, my mood, my apetite, my routine.
I was a 14 year old adolescent.
Apparently that doesn't make any difference to my culture.

From an early age, I stopped going to the bathroom at night.
Something to do with "Bloody Mary".
Even if my bladder was bursting, I wouldn't go to the bathroom.
I have my daily showers in the day time, and I've even scheduled my body to need the toilet in daylight hours.
When I brush my teeth at night, I make sure someone else is in the bathroom with me.
...and that they're talking.
I don't want them to suddenly become possessed the one minute I'm not paying attention.

My older sister is still used to me calling "Mummy" at 4am in the dark.
Since I was 4 or 5, she used to wake up and tell me not to be stupid, and that I only had a nightmare.
She still tells me not to be stupid, and that it's all in my imagination.

For a while, I used to use the Protection Prayer ( Ayat-ul-Qursi) to calm me down.
But then I had a nightmare, in which I kept reciting it wrong.
Since then, it's not worked.
Many nights, I stay awake, frozen in my bed, with that prayer going over and over in my head.

The passage light has never been switched off, because I know I'll get scared.
I chose the room with the roadlight outside the window.
My phone never leaves my hand at night, just in case I have to call 999 (if it's a murderer or burglar) or my house phone (if it's a ghost and I need my parents to come).

Every single night, I go through the motions of checking my room for any pictures.
Any magazines, posters, or leaflets get turned over so I can't see any faces.
Any mirrors left lying around are covered up with clothes.
Teddies are hidden at the back of cupboards.

Yet, I still get scared.
I still see faces.
I still shake and shivver.
I still cry.

Why am I so afraid?
Why can't I shake this fear off?
Does anyone know what I can do?
I can't take it much longer.

Two Double Oh Seven.

What a year.
It started in illness and ended in illness.

Scandal, Gossip, Drama.
College, Community and WWW.
RatBoy.
Quasimodo.
KbinWalid.

I don't even remember how I started talking to Modo.
It was the Monday before my birthday that he made me come.
Since then, I've been falling.

Summer time was a mixed bag of Lucky Dips.
Mi Madre had to go off and we had to stay and hold down the fortress.
That Summer I found my older sister.

I also held down a job for three or four months.
But I hated it.
So I left.

October saw the birth of the Uni-Ness.
How I hate it.

2007 was the year I made the decision to leave religion.
The beginning of my journey.
It was also the year I took my first acoholic drink.
Had my first orgasm.
Stayed in a place full of guys in a different city.
Discovered my other side.
Became an official tease.

I guess Double 07 was the year of many beginnings.
I hope double Oh Eight isn't the year of endings.