Everything starts back at the beginning; it is surprising how it ends up. The tides have changed and I'm feeling it tingling in the toes. A bit sad, but I know it’s for the best. It seems like everyone gets to start again with a clean slate, old habits resurfacing, the cherished that you tried to push away, sitting with anxious eyes, waiting for you to join the game.

I want to stand and walk over to the ones that know me so well, but I feel like an imposter. There are things in me that have changed, and I know it will be embraced with open arms, never any judgments. But I hold on to them tight, not afraid, just want to keep some of it for myself. Is that selfish?

Only one day left until I return to the reality. Or perhaps there is room in this everyday life for the world I have created for myself. Mix the two, not take the whole thing so seriously. Or perhaps it is just my nature, and those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind. Half a quote from Dr Seuss, a very wise "man".

I've thought about ending the blog, letting it all drop off, a great memory for those times sitting in a deep cushioned library chair, wrapped in a “worn out from all the years” two-toned green crochet blanket, the best you ever had. You sit staring out a darkened window, calm, laughing at the familiar flashes in the mind, pictures from your 29th year.

But then that’s removing your soapbox. Where you express what lies beneath the eyes that seem to be always “working things out” but keep the face that tries not to cause a worry. I’ve really come to enjoy doing this, even with the occasional hiccups, a few moments of discomfort.

“And no I don’t have a medical “hiccup” issue”. A question asked by the plutonic love of my life, an amazing friend of 13 years. Much of who I am today is credit to the lack of advice and constant companionship of this man. One of those “lifers”, full of sarcasm, humour and always a shrug of the shoulders. “That fuckin’ guy”, followed by a rueful shake of the head. This is his choice in blog name; please refer to the previous sentence to get my in-depth, soulful opinion of this decision.

Note to self: Never let the characters pick their own names.

This “fuckin’ guy”, followed by a rueful shake of the head, has given me some of the most wonderful gifts a person could receive. Stories; space stories, vampire stories and even a Choose Your Own Adventure. A playful mind and a gift for the written word. If you have never had a story written for you, I highly recommend befriending someone with these skills. A gift that means so much but is also “cheap, cheap, cheap” (exert taken from The Top 10 Reasons for Giving a Story for Xmas, The Top 10 Reasons for Giving a Vampire Story for Xmas and How Crazy E Saved Xmas).
I pulled these stories out tonight, a smile on my face as I cracked the familiar red and green duo tangs. The room filled with laughter as I read out the interview he gave himself (“fuckin guy”) at the beginning of The Idiot’s Trilogy, Special Edition, a three part fantastic story, written over years.

As I make my way to the comfort of my warm bed and cold green pillow, I do so with laughter being my last action of the evening and a feeling of being ok. That, I can sleep soundly to.