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Nine Days Later
July 12, 2004, 10:46 p.m. Nine days. Sorry. A mix of laziness, stocktake and Aistrigh. It’s been raining here. Such a surprise, the rain, after weeks and months of dry. I love the rain. The sound of it, the look of it. The lovely way it makes the air feel – vibrant and joyous and refreshed. Rain is cathartic, like tears. It’s almost been a year in this incarnation of liadlaith.diaryland.com. A year since I came back from Canada, began the last half of my Arts degree, had my last haircut. A year since the Elf-boy broke up with me. God, not this again. I’m tired of retreading this old path, over and over. I feel like I’m stuck here, on repeat. The fact is, I feel like I haven’t changed at all in this past year. I keep going on about how I’ve started writing again, but that’s all that’s changed, and it’s not really anything new – it’s just the rediscovery of something lost. I want something new. But there’s nothing, no one. For a year there’s been no one new in my life – I haven’t seen or met anyone who was much more than a blip on my radar. There was Elf-boy Mk II, but that fizzled pretty quickly when I realised we had nothing in common, nothing to talk about. But apart from that, nowt. All I’m asking is for someone I’m attracted to, with whom I can have a conversation and an emotional connection. Is that really too much to ask for? That impossible? C’mon life, throw me a frickin bone here. I don’t mind if I get knocked back, or nothing ever happens, just throw me a few guys with whom there’s at least a sliver of opportunity. That’s all I’m asking. Rargh.
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