One of the things I hate the most, and yet treasure the most, are the random memories that one gets from doing something simple and stupid. In this case, I mean memories of relationships that aren’t now relevant, whether it’s a friendship which no longer exists or a memory of when you were in love with someone and they were in love with you. To some degree, I think it epitomises the term ‘bittersweet’ (something which I hate saying, because it’s flung around so much, and I like the images it conjures). It just feels so… stupid… at the time- to be suddenly reminded of filling out crosswords online, and wish, just for a second, that the person could be there to hold you and to supply the answers you don’t know. I simultaneously wish that I didn’t get these sudden vivid flashes of what I (we) had, and cherish them.
I don’t even know how to put into words the myriad emotions they bring up, and the complicated nature of the way I want them and don’t. As I said before, I think I’m losing my knack for writing, and today, for living to a normal schedule. It would be nice to drop into a world of paperback novels and M&S chocolate biscuits and of sitting with my feet on the windowsill and telephone calls from people I care about and distance from everything brutally real and complicated. This is how I’ve been living the past few days, thoroughly engrossed in ‘Middlesex’, which I would recommend to anyone. Maybe I’ll post a review once the novel has sunk in a bit
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