I don’t get the appeal of human or domestic AU’s. It’s basically just taking everything that made the original piece of media interesting and stripping it away, and in it’s place we get characters working shitty minimum wage jobs, taking college classes while dealing with students who’re walking stereotypes, and watching TV on the coach with their significant other, snuggling and complaining about life. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I read, watch, and play media to escape from my boring and mundane existence, visiting fantastic worlds and witnessing awe inspiring events. Now I’m not saying that it has to be the most earth shattering stuff imaginable, I’m just asking for something a little more interesting than normal people living normal lives, because god knows I get enough of that from life itself.
I’ve realized in my mundane existence that life itself is a ‘long priority list’ and it’s always a matter of choice on ‘who’ and ‘what’ we put on top. If it’s a what, I hope it matters. If it’s a who, I hope it’s God.
In an attempt to reduce my total number of hours spent molesting the f5 key whilst wondering if it is possible to drown oneself in a martini glass, I have decided to restrict my internet time. And while this means I am already reading more and pursuing more productive forms of writing, I am beyond terrified that I will now have less time for the mindlessly unproductive things I so enjoy, such as writing terrible poetry on the nature of Benedict Cumberbatch’s eccentric beauty – and what am I without that. THAT IS MY WHOLE WORLD.
Those delusional days when you become convinced you can organise your entire existence into notebooks and to-do lists so you go out and buy more notebooks and make more to-do lists because IF I HAVE SEPARATE TO-DO LISTS DEDICATED TO VERY SPECIFIC CATEGORIES OF THINGS-TO-DO, EVERYTHING WILL BE FINE.
I never fell in love with you.
I fell in love with the idea of you.
I fell in love with the idea of having someone to lean on
At 4 am when my mind would wander into terrible thoughts
Or at 3 pm when all I need is your love after a long day.
I fell in love with the idea of having a lover
To complete my mundane existence.
Yet, I never fell in love with you.
I never found the things that make you smile on a rainy day
Or the things that can seep into your heart and stay there forever.
I never fell in love with the color of your eyes
Or the untrimmed hair on your chest.
I never fell in love with the way you smiled and sang along when your favorite song came on
Or the way you would look at me when we passed by.
But now that you’re gone,
I wish that I fell in love with you
And not the idea of you.
I wish I took the time to fall in love with you;
To fall in love with the little things;
To fall in love with even your flaws.
But now I’m stuck missing your presence;
Missing the idea of you;
Trying to remember the voice I read your texts in;
Trying to remember times long past.
That day you left was the first time in a long time I’d let myself be real about how I felt about you. Because you are you and I am me and it always sort of made sense but never happened.
And now you’re gone and I’m sitting here in our empty flat hugging the Calcifer plushie that you let me keep ‘cause you told me you didn’t need it anymore. I’m sitting here with my hobbit hair (what’s the point in straightening it, there’s no one left to impress) and a giant cup of black coffee, trying to erase every memory we made together over the years; because I know if I let the memories fester they’ll leak into my subconscious and make me do something eternally stupid like tell you what really runs through my head when you ask me to make a wish.
I would tell you - oh god, I would tell you in a heartbeat; but I got there too late and left it too long. I waited for years to get you to notice me in the first place and I think I just got a little too used to the waiting. Because now you are happy, when you see her your eyes light up and mine fill with a sensation of paralysis and hyperconsciousness all at once.
You met her in a coffee shop (how cliché) and you thought she had pretty brown eyes and a smile that melted your heart into a dripping mess on the floor, and I know this because you told me at 3am while we were watching Attack On Titan wrapped in duvets on the sofa together because Netflix won’t stream anywhere else in our flat. When I smiled back at you with an absent look on my face you cocked your head to the side a little, like a bewildered kitten who can’t understand why their companion isn’t beaming for joy at the dead bird carcass on the carpet. I tried to be happy and I tried to repress every impulse when you asked me what I would wish for if I could wish for anything; because it’s you. It’s always been you and probably always will be. But impulses are strong and fighting your heart is hard. I always saw little sense in the saying “heart over mind” because I found it illogical and lazy; following your heart is easy - it’s a primal instinct that dispels any mention of reason or logic. But in my isolated world where every second I felt like the exemplar of the very best and the very worst of human nature simultaneously, I only had reason and I never had passions. I chose to go to University because it was the next logical step, I chose to study law because it was only logical that I would take a mundane and mildly impressive degree to show off my mundane and mildly impressive existence to the world of Law.
But then in some crazy whirlwind I met you and I started to feel like I wasn’t so empty inside. You didn’t complete me, I was already complete. But you made me a better version of me, you gave me passion and drive and purpose and existential crises every few months but it was ok because you made me realise that I didn’t have to be some mass produced, generic law student with impeccable music taste. I could be something and I could be someone. But now you’ve told me that you love her and you want to live with her and I want to die inside. I can feel the spark you light in me going out and my motivation dwindling. I don’t want to make a video and I don’t want to be me because I’m not me anymore. I’m some split personality, one side almost human and the other an entirely mechanical and logical series of jokes and pop culture references that I project into the sky for the world to see and I hate them both.
I hate my sarcasm and I hate my dimple and I hate my hair and I hate that malteasers and llamas have become my thing and I hate that every moment of every day that I’m without you by my side I can feel the world closing around me and all hope being extinguished. I hate that I can only be me when I’m with you because when you’re gone I’m helpless.
And now you’re not coming back and there are no more of your boxes, no more excuses to return to your past. You’re 27 and you want to settle down, of course you fucking do; because that’s what everyone does and I’m just a stupid, lazy kid with too much ambition and not enough motivation. When you said that you were leaving you looked at me with the same beaming smile you had when you first talked about her that night on the sofa, and I bore the same plastic smile and internal grimace. I nodded silently, scared that impulse would seize control if I opened my mouth. So you hugged me for the last time when you came to collect that last box and now there are just empty things: empty chairs, empty rooms and emptiness inside of me that I can feel coming back. It was gone for so long, my temporary euphoria felt almost numb but now the blackness is back and I feel like I’m being eaten alive from the inside and everyone is standing beside me, politely ignoring the demons clawing from inside my ribs.
I slump down on the sofa and stare passively out the window until I decide that I need more coffee but filter coffee tastes like mud and mid-life crises, so I slam the door behind me and amble up my street towards Starbucks. It was full of pretentious hipsters and parents with children, I felt a weird affinity to both parties but remained in my personal limbo. I ordered a caramel macchiato and sunk into an armchair in the far corner of the coffee shop until I hear “Dean?” being called across the room by an apathetic student with trouble spelling one of the most common names in England apparently. I force myself out of the seat, my eyes still firmly fixed on my phone; staring at a blank message.
I grab my coffee blindly from the impatient barista and look up only when I feel coffee seeping through my shirt and hear a high pitched “Aghh!” that was all too familiar. I looked up and smirked at the blue eyed almost stranger, my heart lurched and caught the words in my throat.
“Oh god, Dan what the hell are you doing?! Surely by now you’ve learnt that your hand eye co-ordination is bad enough without the loss of your peripheral vision too?” His fake-anger twinged in my ribs and his smile cut right through my thought process. I stood there in open-mouthed silence waiting for him to leave again. But he didn’t, he grabbed napkins and suggested that we go back to our flat to change shirts (even though all his possessions were gone and he knew that for a fact). The word “our” caught in his throat and drove emptiness further into my heart.
“How come you came back?” I suddenly asked him as we were opening the door of the flat and climbing the stairs. He looked taken aback and slightly sheepish at my point-blank approach.
“Uh, well… she wasn’t… I don’t know, I was coming to look for you and figured you’d want a coffee and yeah… I don’t know, we got along well and on paper it’s a perfect match; but I just never felt the sense of belonging with her that I felt with y-…” He stopped himself short and fumbled for words.
“I mean like… with other people it either clicked or didn’t and I thought our compatibility would make us click eventually but she told me that she didn’t want pokémon evolution placemats and I just kinda freaked out and ran off. I know it was a stupid thing to do and really horrible but I just suddenly snapped instead of clicked and I… er… I realised that nothing ever really feels right unless I know you’re sorta around I guess…” His last few words disappeared in mumbles but it was all I needed to hear.
I wasn’t magically fixed and the emptiness didn’t suddenly lift from my heart, but I began to feel lighter and as inappropriate as it was, while Phil was mumbling, an idea for a video came into my head and I felt the familiar rush of motivation and passion. Because I loved what I did, even if it felt a bit artificial sometimes (I could work on that) and I loved him in every sense of the word and I couldn’t stop smiling when his lips crashed on mine.
~ I wrote a new thing and it’s a bit sad and the ending is a big soppy mess and it’s all oh so cliched but I wanted to write something and this is it i guess (if u liked it please tell me because i’d love to know and i’m a bit lonely) ~
I apparently still have one friend left (how did this happen – what did I do wrong), because she came over today and informed me that “you look so much more like Doctor Who [Tennant] since I last saw you. Like, your little face and then… FOOF, hair!”
Thanks, bro, I am really pleasantly surprised by this statement of yours even though I have been going to a stylist with a picture of Tennant for the past two years. MAYBE – MAYBE MY INTENSE DELUSION OF BEING THE DOCTOR HAS MADE ME LOOK MORE LIKE THE DOCTOR.