Grace

                Hey hey! How's it going? I thought I'd post this story this week, only because I'm going on holiday tomorrow morning, and I won't be here to post next Thursday. This is new to most of you, but only required a little bit of editing on my part. This received some good feedback when it was shared in class, so hopefully you'll like it. Drop me a comment if you love it, or if you hate it, all feedback is good feedback! 

                                            

http://myburnoutthing.com/burnout-and-recovery/burnout-recovery-tip-8-counselling-and-then-not-going-to-counselling/

                

       

          ‘I’ve been in love with Grace for one year, two months, three weeks, two days and half an hour. I first saw her in the supermarket, then two weeks later in the gym. I saw her two more times in the supermarket, and then, I saw her in my mother’s living room.

                I was scared to look at her but I could hardly look away. My mother is used to me being quiet, but I think even she noticed something was a little off.  I hardly touched my dinner and was scared to drink my tea, in case I spilled it or dribbled it, or choked on it; then I’d look stupid in front of her and she wouldn’t smile at me anymore.

                She looked different when I saw her in October. It had been three months and I was starting to worry that she’d gone away. She’d styled her hair differently this time and her make up was darker. She looked really beautiful, even though she wasn’t smiling. I wondered if she looked angrier because of something I’d done. I didn’t bother her this time, because she looked like she didn’t want to be bothered.

                I next saw her in December. She looked radiant; she was wearing a thick red jumper and was really beaming at me. I took her to lunch that day, and then back to my place, where I plucked up the courage to speak to her;

“You look really beautiful” I said, she only smiled in return. “That’s one of the things I like about you, you’re modest.” I told her. She was still smiling back at me, her face hadn’t changed at all but I didn’t mind. She had one of those really lovely smiles that brightened up the room. She was just so quiet; why wouldn’t she speak to me? “Tell me something about yourself” She still only smiled back. I didn’t know whether to be endeared or annoyed. We watched some TV together and then I took her for a walk to the park. We sat there on the bench for an hour or two, and then I went home, alone.

I felt bad about leaving her in the park, but then next time I saw her; in February, she was smiling at me again. She looked even more stunning now than she did in December – she was wearing a blue dress, it was a really nice blue too; it complimented her eyes and her skin tone perfectly. She was telling me about her New Year’s diet, and how she lost a stone in three weeks. I was fascinated by her words. I wanted to take her out again that day, apologise for leaving her in the park like that; I think she’s the one, so I wouldn’t want her to ever think badly of me. Just as I was about to take her from the store, another man took her away from me. I was crushed, because she’s mine.’

‘So what did you do then?’

‘Well, I followed them. I wanted to see where he was taking her, and what he thought he was doing, taking my girl away from me.’

‘Where did he take her?’

‘I don’t know. I decided that if she liked this guy, and he could make her happy, she should go with him. She might decide that she likes me better and come back to me. I’ve seen her around since, and she’s been smiling and wearing nice clothes; so I guess she was happy.’

‘Okay, Adam, this has been a good session. I’ll see you again next week.’ I closed my notebook and left the room. Three assistant nurses were moving towards me, anxiety and the need for gossip deepening their crow’s feet and loosening their hairspray.

‘Well, what’d he say?’ asked the eldest, ‘He seems so…so normal, I can’t picture him doing what he did!’ They stood staring at me, expectantly, their eyebrows raised in encouragement.

‘Look. He firmly believes – or he wants us to believe that he firmly believes – that he simply let the guy walk away from the supermarket – ‘

‘What, he doesn’t remember the fight at all? But he bit chunks out of the guy’s arm!’

‘I know that, but judging by what he’s told me, he was in a different mental state to the one which he is in now. My guess is, he really doesn’t remember what he did to this guy, and after a couple more sessions; I think I might be confident enough to swear it in court.’

‘Wow. Imagine if a bloke would react like that to you, Susie! It’d be scary, but really romantic too. You know, in a psychopathic sort of way. So, what does this girl look like?’

‘Well, you can see her in just about any newsagent’s, supermarket - basically anywhere that sells magazines.’

‘What, Why?’

‘She’s Grace McEllen. He saw her photo on the front of a magazine, and constructed an entire narrative in his head; wherein she was his girlfriend and not just a photo on the front of a magazine. Which explains why she never said a word to him, apart from to tell him about her diet. So, I’ll catch you ladies at lunch? I have my 2 O’clock now. Bye.’ I turned on my heel and left them standing there gawping. You’d think that working in an institute such as this would make them more ready for that sort of story. Evidently not.

So that's it! Hope you liked it; personally, I've never been overly happy with the ending, so if you have any suggestions, I'm open to them, like I said, drop me a comment! Have a great week, I'm hoping to find time next week to write part 4 of The Following with a view to uploading it on Saturday. I do have a post in mind, which I know quite a bit about, and would be able to get some accompanying pictures for next week, so that could happen as well. 

Oh! and while we're here, I wanted to share this with you, because I made it on this website to celebrate the start of series 3 of Game of Thrones. 

They're really fun to make and you can create yours on the link I put up there. It made me laugh more that my friends who created them were putting inspiring slogans like 'Strength to the end' and things like that, with a flaming torch icon, and I come along and give a panda a smoking pipe and talk about cake. That's where my priorities lie! I'd love to see yours if you make one, so if you can add pictures to comments, drop it in, and if not, mention @EmphaticPanda in a tweet or Instagram, if you have either or those! 

                                                   Thanks for reading! Laura

                                                                                   xoxoxoxox

The Following - Part 3

         I feel like this is a big achievement, I made you a quasi-promise and actually followed through on it. Here, as promised, is part 3 of The Following. 

http://www.tumblr.com/tagged/rain%20at%20night

                I woke up from my nap and realised that I’d been sleeping for longer than I meant to, as the streetlights were piercing the darkness of my apartment. The photo of her that I keep in a silver frame was just a cube of light at the end of my bed. I picked it up and replaced it on the shelf. I smiled to myself at the sight of her face and then turned away. I could hear water hitting the window, and the way the moon was coming through a small gap in the cloud cast a pale blue light over everything, making it easy for me to manoeuvre in the dark.

                I took the skittles from the side. I’d made sure to buy sour ones, because I knew she liked those best. I put my shoes back on and tried to decide between my coat and my umbrella. In the end, even though it was still around 24^oC outside, I reasoned that my coat would take up less room.

                It was raining heavier than I thought outside. I glanced up to see that her bedroom curtains were still closed, but the living room curtain were open and I could see the light from the TV screen flickering into the bleak night air. I pushed the skittles into my pocket and ran across the road to the foot of her building. I went to the back and began climbing the ladder there. I went up three floors and climbed from the metal landing onto the guttering. It was slippery tonight, but I’d anticipated that and had work shoes with more grip than usual. I’d learned that from past errors.

                From here, I sidled along the guttering until I came to her balcony. I climbed onto it silently and crept round to the French doors. I peered in at them; him sitting upright on the far left of the sofa, her cuddling into him. I sat cross-legged outside and realised I’d forgotten my camera. I cursed, but came to realise that due to the rain, I wouldn’t have been able to get a clear shot. Instead, I took out my skittles and began to eat.

                When the film finished, I started to leave, however he got up and put another one in. Although I was soaked to the bone and further, I decided to stay for the second one, to make up for missing the first half of ‘Taxi Driver’. I had a few skittles left anyway; I’d normally have eaten them faster but the darkness was making it difficult to see what colour I was eating, and I like to eat them in order. On his way back to the sofa, his eyes flicked to the window, and I think he almost saw me, because his gaze rested there for a moment, before she distracted him. When he looked back, I’d put my head down and had jammed my hands into my pockets, so that to him, I may just resemble a bin bag, or nothing at all. It worked, because when I slyly lifted my head around a minute later, he had resumed his position on the left of the sofa and was playing with her hair to the opening of ‘Fatal Attraction’.

                                      Sorry for spamming you! Thanks for reading anyway, you're swell!

                                                                           Laura

                                                                                  xoxoxoxoxox

The Following - Part 2

        I won't bore you - here's part two of that thing you liked last time.

http://www.womenshealth.gov/violence-against-women/types-of-violence/stalking.cfm

         It was three months until we saw him again. I'd been enjoying our trips into the town centre, walks to the library, even just the bus rides to 'ASDA' had become something I looked forward to. I knew all of her friends by name, and had even gone with her to 'Bella Italia' when she met her parents in there one Tuesday. I'd almost forgotten about him, so hated the reality of his existence. Still, he's the reason I've been seeing so much of her, so I guess I can't complain about him too much. He got off of the train at 1:42 pm. He was wearing the same coat as before, despite the increase in temperature that three months often brings. I'd have felt more resentment towards him, had she not shown such joy in her face when they embraced. We walked slowly together out of the station and went to 'Nando's'. He had a bag with him which looked quite full, so I assumed he'd be staying for the weekend. Great.

          Over the next hour, I learned that his name was Anthony and he was studying for his Master's Degree in Biochemistry. Show-off. They decided to watch 'Taxi Driver' later on that night. I've never liked the movie myself, but for her, I thought I'd swing by to watch it with them. We left together and walked back to her flat instead of catching the bus - the sun had come out while we'd been in 'Nando's' so it was lovely walking weather. 

          When we got back, they went into her flat, and I went across the road to mine to nap. I also wanted to get my camera, so I could take some photos of the night. I waved to them, but they didn't look back; they were laughing together and disappearing inside the building. Shortly after, I saw her open the curtains of what must have been her bedroom. He came behind her then and embraced her. He kissed her neck and she turned to him. I went into my building then - it was too painful to watch her in the arms of another.

                 Thank you so much for coming back to read the second part of this, I'll aim to have the third part up soon as possible, but it may be a bit longer until my next post, as I have some big ol' deadlines coming up!

                                      Thanks again, you are wonderful. Laura

                                                                                         xoxoxox

The Following - Part 1

        Hey, happy Monday! I thought I'd go back to being creative today, and I started writing a short story about a week ago, so I thought that was pretty perfect timing. I also made a bit of a strange choice, which you might have deduced from the title; I'm going to do this in installments.

        Aside from the fact that I've not finished it yet, I just think it'll be better if you don't have to read some massively long thing at some point in the future, if I ever finish it. At least this way, I'll have a reason to finish it as well. Without further hesitation/rambling...

http://www.tntmagazine.com/news/features/londons-stalking-clinic-open-for-business

         I saw them at the train station. It was on platform 5, and I don't remember exactly which station, because there are a few around here. I don't know why I was there. Fate had thrown us together; Him, with his pristine jeans, smart shoes and pressed jacket. She was wearing a beautiful yellow dress that reminded me of summer. I only remember her dress, and her hair. Oh, her hair! It was perfect - golden, shiny, waist-length - like something from a shampoo advert. It hung around her frame like an elegant ball gown; it was all she needed.

           They were hugging. I don't know why but I just stood and stared. I think they complimented each other well and I couldn't look away. He said something and they laughed as the train charged into the station. They hugged again, this time fleetingly and he picked up a bag from the floor beside him. He jumped through the doors, she wiped a tear from beneath her right eye. He waved through the windows of the train and blew her a kiss. She pretended to catch it, placing it delicately against her dampening cheek. She wiped another tear away. The train left. She watched it go and stood there for a while, watching it take the other half of her soul with it, for how long?

        After a few moment, she wiped the last of her tears away, faster than before, and composed herself - she took a deep breath, straightened her scarf, pulled down her jacket and tossed her hair. She still looked upset, though, and that was the problem I had; I couldn't let her leave my life without knowing she was okay.

          Outside the station, she got on a 222 bus. She didn't have enough on her Oyster card, so I fumbled in my pocket for some change and gave it to her. She looked happily stunned by this and her face lit up. She's so beautiful up close; I think my world stopped for a moment.

            We got off six stops later; she lives in a nice little flat, next to a hospital. It looks like a lovely area. I noticed one of the flats in the building opposite was up for rent...

              That's all you're getting for now! I have no idea when you'll get the next bit, but you'll (hopefully) be glad that I have a whole paragraph just waiting to be added to a typed up. I hope you liked this, and that you'll come back for the next bit. If you didn't like this, I promise it won't be just this from here on in.

                                 Until next time, Take care! 

                                                         Thanks for reading! Laura

                                                                                        xoxoxoxox 

Synaesthesia...

       Hey, merry Boxing Day, I hope you had an awesome Christmas/Hanukkah/winter, etc. I felt like writing lazily today, but I also wanted to get my teeth into something a little bit. I thought I'd try to explain how I see the world. Maybe you won't get this, because it's pretty abstract, I guess. Perhaps it will make perfect sense and will give a name to something you couldn't explain before, and didn't know was a 'thing'. 

      Also, I've sorted out the comment thing so that now anyone can comment. Please feel free to if you've found this in any way interesting. This is a completely true account of how I think of things, and hopefully I've worded it in a way which makes some shred of sense to at least one of you.

       I see things like they’re colours. There’s a name for it, but I can’t remember what it is. I don’t think I’ve explained myself very well; what I mean is, when I think of days of the week, months, numbers – whatever, my mind associates a colour with it. Wednesday is yellow, February is an icy sort of blue and the number two is red. Sometimes ‘two’ is big and red on a yellow background, but that’s not all the time.

            I swear, by the way – in case you were wondering, that I’m not under the influence of any alcohol or drugs – this is an ‘all-the-time’ thing. Synaesthesia. That’s what it’s called. There are other types – some people personify these things, rather than just let their mind colour them in.

            I place so much emphasis on colour; perhaps because of my ‘condition’, perhaps because I’m mildly obsessive-compulsive in my tendencies. I like to put coloured pencils and felt tip pens in ‘colour order’. My idea of colour order is essentially the order of the colours in the rainbow. Sometimes I like to start with red and move through orange, then yellow, through green then blue, purple, pinks etc. Sometimes I mix it up and begin with yellow; as long as it’s logical in my mind. Sometimes I spend minutes, sometimes ordering my stationary can take half an hour – there is no greater joy than getting a set of coloured pens of pencils which are already in the right order.

            I also eat sweets in colour order. Although, that tends to be flavour-based; unless it’s M&Ms.

            It’s not as uncommon as you might think and it’s not unpleasant. It only becomes unpleasant when something interrupts the order in which I place my colours; I hate so much when someone else uses my pens/pencils and put them back in the wrong places. I hate this for two reasons; firstly, it makes me physically uncomfortable to see colours in the wrong order – yellow should never go next to dark blue, green should not go next to red unless it’s Christmas. Secondly, I feel really awkward and regimented sitting there swapping them all over in front of them, so I have to be uncomfortable about the placement of my pens until I can move them. It’s fine if they’re in a pencil case as they move around by themselves, but if they’re in a line, it makes me crazy.

            The only thing about being obsessive about colour order for whatever reason, and also seeing things as colours, is that I get pretty irritated that I don’t see the days of the week, the months or number sequences in colour order. I can live with that in terms of months and numbers, which I’ll explain – months have more pastille colours than weekdays so the colours look far more pleasant together than Wednesday and Thursday do. Numbers are brighter colours, typically, so also look more pleasant together. In addition to this – numbers are rarely (past the age of 6 or 7( orange and purple)) placed in order of 1, 2, 3, 4 etc. Therefore, numbers present less of a problem in my mind because they jump around a lot. I should/could also mention here, that numbers don’t often remain still; they sometimes pulsate and expand and shrink. I think that comes under the same umbrella as seeing things as colours; like I said, there are different types of Synaesthesia.

            Going back to days of the week – they’re a sequence, and are written one after the other generally, or at least are thought of in order. This then becomes like the pen thing, where dark blue and yellow look awful and uncomfortable together in my mind. I think I said earlier that Wednesday in yellow; Thursday is a dark purple, so looks marginally better than dark blue would, but the yellow of Wednesday is murky and mustard like – not a nice canary yellow like the number one is.

            The honest truth about this is that if you don’t have Synaesthesia, you won’t really understand synaesthesia. This has probably been the best way I could describe and/or explain it, without getting super technical. The other truth, of course, is that I have very little clue as to the technicalities here; I think it’s to do with synapses in the brain interacting in abnormal ways – which is fun.

Life is so good with this much colour, and I can’t imagine a world where things weren’t colours; probably in the way that you can’t imagine which kind of crazy I see the world through.

         One last thing I will say is that I’ve seen things in this way since I knew what numbers and letters and colours were – so as far as I know, it’s not something you develop. The colours may have faded as I’ve gotten older, but that could be down to the day; sometimes colours are just more vivid. If only you could see the plethora of colours which I can see right now while I’m putting this into words. (Mostly it’s purple, but there are splashes of red and orange here and there, and bits of blue - it’s nicer than it sounds.) I will tack a quote I found when I was looking for the name of this which I totally got, and which made me feel pretty warm inside: '...Pat Duffy told her father, 'I realized that to make an R all I had to do was first write a P and draw a line down from its loop. And I was so surprised that I could turn a yellow letter into an orange letter just by adding a line." 

                Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy the rest of the festive season, Laura

                                               xoxoxox