People that fall apart

For your sins, I am going to update again, because I wanted to write this days ago, but didn't get the chance.

Before I start though, I want to say how amused I am. Years ago, before I discovered punk, and Hole, and Nirvana, and long before I knew who the Pixies were (and possibly now, are...), I liked rock, and metal. I liked bands like Guns N Roses, and Metallica, and Iron Maiden. I used to wear black jeans and a black leather jacket, and a Guns N Roses t shirt. Now I don't own any black jeans, never wear the t shirts and sold all my metal albums years ago, without looking back. But suddenly, it's fashionable. I saw, when out shopping, models in windows wearing what I used to. I think it's honour of the Darkness, they've given it a kind of irony now. And today, because I'm trying not to wear clothes I want to take to Leicester with me, I'm in one of my old Guns N Roses t shirts. I think it was probably large when I used to wear it, because now it feels snug. It just amuses me.

Anyway, what I wanted to write about was Fiona.

I was at the bus station the other day, and I saw a girl who reminded me of her. I don't think she exactly looked like her, but there was something about her -- maybe it was how Fi used to look, or possibly something in her eyes. Possibly I looked at her too often for a stranger, or looked at her in a certain way. But I'm sure she was looking at me, too. That was what really set me off, thinking about Fi, and how I just spoke to her out of the blue on that one day, and she always claimed that she had planned to talk to me. She must have, considering how willing to talk to me she was at the time.

Maybe that night, or the next night, I dreamed of her. I can't remember the details of the dream, except that in the spaces in-between dreaming in the night, I didn't want to be thinking of her. I tried to tell myself again I need her like I need a hole in the head, but it's been forever since I tried that and it didn't really work. I sent Fi a message the next day, mentioning I had dreamed of her, but it was nothing lewd, and I hoped she was well.

There was no reply, but that's not so unusual. Even Kath answers emails sometimes, so Fi not answering a text message wasn't strange. But I remembered another message sometime she didn't answer. It struck me that she is moving house, and if I don't keep contact with her I could lose touch with her altogether. We might be living in the same city from September, but a city can be a big place, and with no idea where she lives or of a phone number for her, it was feasible I could lose touch.

I quickly established she hadn't lost her phone by calling her, and in a very stalker-like way, pretending I didn't know I had called her. I then called her back a short while later to apologise for 'accidentally' calling her. We talked for a very short time, but she had just that day moved house and said she was busy cleaning, and cut the call short.

Now I can't remember if she seemed pleased to talk to me, or if she sounded stressed, or upset, perhaps by moving, or by other things, or if she sounded like she didn't want to talk to me. Which would be odd, since I haven't done anything -- but she might be wary of me. She might think that if she sees me again I could go off the rails again and tell her that I love her, like I did two years ago. Who knows. So I'm writing her a casual, chatty letter, and we will see from there.

What's that? Why do I care, you ask? Do I still love her? I need to actually see, or talk to, someone to love them, I think. Or have some contact. So, no. But I think I once cared for her so much, my first love, that a certain fire will always burn for her. We shall see.