DurAnorak (duranorak) wrote,

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"Forever in acrylic afternoons I want to hold you tight while children play outside..."

We were at a party.
A family party.
Laughter. Music. Music. Laughter. Anything to drown out the sounds in the collective memory of glass smashing and vases hitting the wall.
It had all gone horribly wrong.
It was a very pretty facade...but it wasn't working well enough.
Things were falling apart fast and from the looks of it there wasn't going to be anybody left to pick up the pieces.
And it was that afternoon that the final glass was smashed and with it the happiness that everyone had envied.

I really hate myself for writing this, I hate honestly wishing this on anyone but...it hurts so much...

It...it has a lot to do with safety.
You know I always say I'd marry Midge Ure - or, um, I'd let him marry me. That sounds really odd but...even if, say, Nic Lea asked me to marry him I'd probably shoot him and run away very very fast indeed. (I'd be annoyed that he wasn't with Duchovny.) But...Midge, along with Mr. Sting and Mr. Neeson and to a certain extent people like Peter Gabriel and Phil Collins...is safe.
But safe and this close to home....~sigh~
So many of the people mum introduces me to are so not safe...they scare the hell out of me. And suddenly this...this...hmm. This - yes, he really is a kind of Prince Charming - appears out of fucking nowhere and....so safe. Someone to hold onto...cry on...fuck I want to bury my face in his chest and never see the world again. (And yes, for what it's worth, he *is* taller than me.)
Never see the world again.
It's not that I want to hide from the world, just that I want to be so completely wrapped in him that I don't need it, don't need anything else.
Some unhelpful person in my head - well, it was Sean, but most of you don't know him - reminded me a few weeks ago that computers equal precision (generally speaking). So for a while the thoughts ran riot through my head before I realised that I very rarely think "all that" with reference to my good self. So I think we're back at the safety issue (what a surprise) - not that I'd let Midge Ure stick knives all over me, but then, I think he's happier with a synthesiser. (Computer love, oh yes!)
No, actually, not anyway, because I don't want to move off this yet, not when I can see the blood on the knife, so desperately willingly given, and that smile that smile that fucking smile that's so gentle and so loving and so...
....so not real.

There was more, but today is another tomorrow, and I'm feeling a little better. In any case it was more wishing and more things that wouldn't couldn't can't aren't gonna happen.

And I was tragic enough last night...~remembers and sighs~...without letting it spill over into today.

~shakes head and concentrates on the 'real'-er one of these two weird people currently managing my life~


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