The Girl Who Won't Go Home

And thats what my ex called me today.

I went back to stourbridge today to collect the rest of my stuff. Inevitably, I had to leave one small bag behind full of canadian wires and bits, but the rest of my entourage is now with me.

I am quite beat up about it. I am feeling so sad, in general. Of course I am fine, but I would not be human if I didn't hurt at all. I'd like to write D a letter, but I don't know what to say. Its just random thoughts, some good but most of them are bad. Probably best to leave it be and forget. It could be because I am not noble enough to view it in a positive light. I do admit, its not anybody's fault, and I set myself up for it to begin with. I knew it wasn't the right time, I knew it was too passionate to last, I knew we were polar opposites in philosophical mindset.

I am looking at this in wonder. There was so much loneliness, pain, anger, rejection, chaos and hate in it. I thought I would be able to deal with it, just like any past relationship, but somehow this really has left me very battered. I'd self harm if I actually had the guts to do it. Look, we are all adults, and I am honest here; I'd rather hurt physically than cry so much inside.

This calls for a song for the broken hearted, freshly wounded. Lets just pour salt into the bleeding, hemorrhaging vortex previously occupied by my heart, shall we? Hendrix : Angel