Forgiveness is an odd thing, and something I've never been good at.
Obviously my memory kind of stops with Very Old Spice, but I'm sure it began before that. I am good at apologising - perhaps because I've felt I've needed to do it so much, and hence have plenty of practice, but the idea of letting go of some comforting anger stumps me.
Even when there is really no cause for the anger. And even when I myself don't understand why I continue to nurture it, or even where it began.

At lunchtime today, walking back to the office with Christmaspresent books in my hand, I ran into SM - a girl I had had a stupid not-talking-to-you not quite fight with, because ... because why? Because GF stopped being my friend when they fell in love? Because he's the douche and not her? Anyway, it was all very childish (yet you'll note that I am still not  letting go of any anger directed at him) and slowly we've started smiling and talking again, and lunchtime today was a proper long chat. And it was a pleasure.

I walked back to the office both smiling and shaking my head at my own stupidity, but there you go.


When the hormone and full moon monsters aren't chewing my equilibrium I am currently in a place where I can go for long walks (and soon runs as well hopefully) with no distraction in my ear and listen to simple things, like the waves and the wind, and not feel a quickening of panic in my chest. These are the good things. And there are so many good things at the moment, that my thoughts trip over themselves in their hurry to be heard.

I keep asking myself, with regards to love, now - how did this happen? And I know it's not a question seeking an answer, it's just that this thing is so ripe and wonderful and real that my little mind boggles at times, and then I need to just lie back and pinch myself and be present.