Lauca

Lauca means "warm".

There's nae been much in the way of retrospection these last days. I'd have liked to deal with it, but other things came up. Iwhy's here, Medieval Week starts on Sunday, and so on.

Some, I have done, though. And there was one thing I resisted: getting preventive pills. That was, when at last it happened, my own decision. P had been nagging me for eight months, but it was my decision when it happened.
You know... I feel disgust when I read the little notes on having had sex with the bastard. I imagine that's not a very good reaction. But it is one more year of my life where so much was a lie.
Then again, I can only smile when I read about all the nice people, and the nice things we did back then. I wasn't a complete dolt in social situations ALL the time, just most of it.
I read that P was very good at making me feel as if I did things wrong. And there I was, only wanting to spend some time with my cousin, and my grandparents.

Oh well. Back to doing something... I don't know, interesting. Did play some DW6 with Sludgecrawler today, and took a long walk with Iwhy, which is why I've been more or less dead until now. Aurgh, warmth, sun, too much...

Not much else. Be updating more later.


Later:
"I don't want it to end, but I do nothing to stop that..."
After Medieval Week 2001, the sticky web was falling apart. "P is a very demanding person to be girlfriend of." And that's where I started to actually write how exhausting it was, how bad it was. I know it was before, I can recall it through the small tidbits I allowed myself to acknowledge when I wrote. I know it was there. And the diary now tells more of the truth.

There are some unpleasant memories there. And some pleasant. Memories of love.
"P wanted. I didn't. Eventually I let him, to keep the peace." Yeah. That's the best reason in the world. But he wouldn't let you sleep, let you be. It was impossible, and believe me, I tried, endlessly. "Do this. Do that. You can't, I won't let you."
Fair enough, I wasn't honest and I was in love with someone else. But I sure as hell shouldn't have stayed despite his supposed boyfriend-ness. Because you don't act like that. You don't tell someone else what they can and cannot do.
In September, I started trying to get him to sleep with other girls. Odd? Not for me. I wanted him out of my hair and to stop forcing me. I spoke with another girl a while ago, who is now his ex, and she'd done just the same thing, for the same reasons. That October, was also the one time I have ever fallen asleep during sex. And that, my dears, is entirely his blame. First, I was pissed that he dragged me away from the lrp. I didn't want to go. Then, I didn't want to have sex, either, and I was bloody tired. I don't think he knows. But it amuses and disgusts me.

Such things I write. But it's a way of dealing with the past, ripping it up and spreading it out and letting people see it. It's therapy. It's bravery...

I tried to break up. I remember I was afraid, to throw away all we'd had, because it would hurt, because it would change my every-day life. Of course I was worried, I was not used to throwing things to the wind, to just... go on. To break up, from whatever it might be. To go for something new.
It didn't happen, things didn't get better, eventually it did happen, and then I ran, ran, ran as quickly as I could. It was a traumatic event, and he behaved very embarrassingly. He didn't hit me. But it was close. Pressing me up against a wall, forcing me to be close to him, throwing himself into the ice-cold water... no, that is where he finally cracked, but it was not my fault. I do not believe so anymore. It was all there, before. I just... I just did what I had to. It had to do with me, then, in January. Loriel was a catalyst. But it was I who did it, and for myself.
3 October. First try. He threatened to take his life (I believe, I've written in a very bad hand), so I had to retreat. I wrote that it hurt. I wrote that I didn't feel good about being his girl anymore. And I wrote that I tried and behaved just the way he'd told me I should, and still he got whiny and it was not enough. And though I can only recall once, it seems I tried to break up twice, before January, before I finally escaped.
Yeah. Good shite to deal with.

Around November, I mention for the first time that I am tired. That I want to rest. This would return after that, and still do. I want to sleep upon the winds.

The bastard gave me an ultimatum when I wanted to go lrping, without him, one weekend: Stay with me, or go, and we break up. I hate ultimatums (ultimata? latin grammar's a bitch). But I went anyway. And the way he behaved afterwards was the nail in the coffin - even though it held for some months more. My mother told me, then, "Break up with him. Completely." I remember the honesty in that, even if I couldn't bring myself to trust her.

I can see now, I must have been a strange one. To the others in class, and to the teachers. But I was me, and it took some years before I realised everyone else is an "I", too.

And then, all got strange, and the light was smothered by darkness, but the light lead to my getting out of it. I was never to have that light again, but it doesn't matter. I cried, I missed and I did all those things a teenage girl in love does when she cannot show to anyone how she feels (except the razorblade symphony), and then eventually, it faded. It took years, but it faded. I've arrived at the place in the diary where things changed, a paradigm shift if you will. After that, I became free, and another time began. That's for another time, but for now, I have ripped up all the time with P, and looked at it, and I remember.
Other things might fade. The issues I got. The anger. I'm working on them. I started from the beginning, and going forward in time. But now I am dealing with the shite I ripped up. And that's more than enough.
Medieval week around the corner. I'm not going to let that old shite disturb it. It's going to be great.

The mood, I am going to shake off myself. Want to be happy and cheerful.
But I can be all acid. Don't wake that me. Not now.

Goodnight.