Fírima

...means "mortal" in Quenya.

I spent the morning in bed with Sherlock. BBC's Sherlock, the Benedict Cumberbatch one. Well, of course I did! I woke up at far too early, and since my new supposedly smart mobile phone can play videos from YouTube...
What I did, then, without any innuendos, was watch YouTube videos, read dr Watson's blog and other such fangirly things. It was great. Then I got up and had breakfast and kept obsessing. Safe to say, I am in... well, the admire kind of love and lust. I am perfectly well aware of the facts that it is a character, it is on TV, it is not real, and that makes me crave more, more, more of the series.
I am somewhat acquainted with the Sherlock Holmes mythos, but I still cried at the end of "The Reichenbach Fall". DAMN but they're good actors.

When I watched the Sherlock movie, along with a good friend, we squeed and agreed that it could have been made better only by some making out, but then, the lovely tension would have been less delectable.
Then I watched the tv series, and well, yeah, sure, the movie is decent but oh dear me yes please the tv series. The acting is... great. Just brilliant. And the fact that strong friendship can be portrayed in such a way, that it can be so strong that it is almost palpable, despite being so-called fiction, or maybe all the better for it...
...but that is a discussion for Literature majors, not me.
It is simply brilliant.

I watched "The Reichenbach Fall" again tonight. It was beyond words. Love and friendship.


My days are mostly spent away from people. Painting, playing Dynasty Warriors 7 Xtreme Legends with Sludge and... well, that's that, really. But I did get on a ferry and a train and then I had an unrestful night's sleep and then I met... Well. Yeah.
It hurt. It hurt something crazy, and it hurt because I was forcing myself not to do all those things I wanted. The nose to my neck caused me to do the same, however, and I couldn't help but fall a little bit more in love all over again when that dazzling smile was fired in my direction.
Well, if one looked into my eyes there must have been no secret as to what I felt. All the emotions, I suppose, even the less cheery ones.
Then we found a secluded corner in a very quiet restaurant, and I suppose I have never been so not-hungry in my life but I ate anyway. It took forever. There were many silences, but they were as necessary as the words.
In conclusion, there were some things said and done that I needed, to be able to shake free from the choke-grip that sorrow had on me, and to be able to walk straight and smile despite the tears. There was nothing wrong with the love, the closeness, the... well. There was just a wrong with... me.
I'm happy for this opportunity. Face to face is always preferable. And I'm not angry, still. Why should I be?

And there's still this utter inability of mine to drag my eyes away from theirs, to refrain from breathing in their scent, to not hug just once more. It's okay. I know it's over. I'm happy I can still do those things, but they're not part of fooling myself.
And then I went back home and into hiding.


One day this coming week, I'm going to say hi to a psychologigigisist. You know. That thing. They're going to do a bit of research into me. Find me some neat labels, I guess.
They said they don't think it's full-blown paranoia, more like a mild case of agoraphobia.

I say, it is healthy suspicion and a good dose of trust-issues. And I bring this up because I am uncertain of how much I really want to keep this blog public anymore. I've been writing things that, in retrospect, make me a little uncomfortable to know it's out here. Things that I imagine people could use to hurt me. And I do not trust people not to do so.

Oh well.

Self-medicating with dark chocolate and some more Sherlock fangirly things. No fanfiction or such for me, though. I feel uncomfortable when views in fanfictions etcetera get even the slightest bit out of my percieved view of things.
But still. Oh yes, Sherlock.

Did I mention that, from a lack of better ideas, my ostensibly smart mobile phone is called Sherly? Computer is Vincent (was TimeLord before it crashed), old camera is Kerberos, iPod is... and so on.

Back to my medication. Look at me again with those expressive eyes, will you?