DurAnorak (duranorak) wrote,
DurAnorak
duranorak

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Stop. Look. Listen.

So, this morning as I limped through Camden towards the bus home, staggering in my tiny heels and hastily-reworked corset, I found myself wondering : what's it all about, I mean really, when you get right down to it?
We all find ourselves wondering this at some point, I suppose, but I haven't thought it in a long time. But this morning is...this morning feels...

~sigh~ As I neared the bus stop I realised that what I was feeling was genuine, pure self-pity - not the standard woe-is-me kind of self-pity that LiveJournal is all about, but an actual sense of feeling sorry for the girl that I've become. (Why is it that in these situations I can only ever think of apposite lyrics by either NIN or Tori Amos, thus inviting mocking from all concerned? :)

Fortunately, the bus I was on came over the bridge that passes the National Theatre and I looked out across the river in the gorgeous metallic morning light and discovered some kind of point to carrying on, which is good, because up until then I'd been wondering whether this was the point at which I was actually jaded enough that it wasn't worth seeing through another day. Me, jaded. Can you imagine it? Me, crawling out of bed into a London dawn and thinking "Yes, and?" - it's just not right. Jaded. Not like me. But it's how today looks.
And I can't even really work out why. I didn't make any kind of decision last night that I was going to shut everything down, but I feel like it happened anyway - automatic defence mechanisms kicking in, or something. Sigh. I would have liked the opportunity to decide not to turn them off.

Sometimes I wonder about people. Sal, bless her truly lovely heart, wanted to set me up last night because she wants someone to treat me the way I really deserve.
I can't help feeling that that's exactly what happened.

Stop. Look. Listen.
Walk. Keep walking. Never look back.

Oh, those Tori lyrics? These ones :

"Well I'm not seventeen, but I've cuts on my knees,
Falling down as the winter takes one more cherry tree...

She's been everybody else's girl
Maybe one day she'll be her own
Everybody else's girl
Maybe one day she'll be her own..."


You can laugh now. :)

All of which is nothing to do with the fact that Synthetic Culture last night rocked really quite hard in several ways, largely thanks to the lovely zellah but also in no small part thanks to mock2, zeke_hubris, and various other people who stopped to chat, including an endearingly drunk hazejam and a presumably slightly less drunk corpsie.
And I collected a kiss from the Incredibly Tall Goth Boy TM, whom some of you will be aware I've been vaguely stalking for almost a year, so it can't all be bad.

Oh, and last night some bloke told me I was "the true embodiment of the spirit of Christmas joy", which I think may be the oddest compliment I've ever had. ~s~

E.
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