Drowning under the flood of homework of class assignments of studying the just piles up piles up since post-Orientation period. Tests and make-up lessons and online learning work that never seems to work, print modules tutorials chapters, copy notes and scribbles and panic PANIC. Stopping to realise how little time we have left and feeling this overwhelming urge to hurt something.

But Orientation was Epic so that is okay. (OMGATLASILOVEYOUSOMUCHZXZXZXZ)

And and I spent the entire of yesterday sewing a new Ikea bag #2 and making stuff so that made for a therapeutic and crafty day, albeit a non-academically productive day.

Hello lieblings so these few weeks have been nothing short of continual frenzy. Orientation preparations and shutter decorations for walls not shutters, OGL Performances to Mercy the Glee cast version and lots of spray painting, buying supplies from West Plaza, getting cardboard from the drink stall, teasing songs and pretend girlfriends, not studying going home late and crashing, placard making Principal event rehersals dance practices cheer practicing, rallying and working and laughing and lethargy. But it will pay off. Because Friday was Administrative Day Two and it went well and the new blood seemed very nice so it bodes well for the future.

I feel a knee deep sense of betrayal that I have not done my Poetry comparison essay which was due on Monday although the poems are really nice to work on and makes you feel like John Mayer's Slow Dancing In a Burning Room. But that is what happens when you procrastinate doing things you love it never gets done. But I will do it by tonight! Yes I will.

I cannot cannot. CANNOT. Wait for Orientation.

Maybe I was being foolish but I guess that is happens when people matter.

It was like how you feel when you lose a tooth. And you tongue keeps going back going back going back to that gap, that empty space, where something once was. The feeling of being incomplete, and missing something, the hollowness. And I needed that space filled. I felt like I needed Nikolai and so I went after him. I took my bag shaped like angel wings and slung on my owl necklace like an amulet that could ward off evil. Because that is what you do for people who matter. You go after them and you do not stop because you care and you want them with you and it hurts being alone. Like they are your phantom limb and without them it gets hard to breathe.

New York was different. It was sprawling gray buildings and moving masses in black. New York was souffles and sophistication and Wall Street brokers. Of overcast skies and heavy traffic and drinks in smoky clubs with little paper umbrellas in them. It was brimming with hope and broken dreams and life. It was where a part of me was.

I walked the streets, skirting around people with their heads bowed and looking at sidewalk chalk. I did not know where to start and it broke my heart knowing that as much as you may love a person you do not have radar senses to tell you where they were when they decide to go off and find themself. It felt like I had been walking forever but never reaching anywhere. Everything looked the same and nothing seemed to matter. Like I had been on a treadmill this entire time and really I was not finding Nikolai anymore than I was before. My feet ached in my Dr Martens and I wanted to go home but I could not because I was looking for it. I felt alien here, like Aisling did not belong here because New York was not a place for candy cane houses but for people who were strong.

There was a club called Indigo Moon and I went inside without thinking twice. It seemed like the thumping beats and the smoke-stale air beckoned me, like all the familiar places back home Nikolai used to play in. The lights danced across my skin, red blue green and looked like they could go right through me. My paper thin skin now felt like club lights can break it. There was people everywhere, dancing like mad warriors and drinking like pirates. Whispering poetry and moving song. I struggled to make my way to the bar and when I reached it there was a gypsy lady on the other side.

"What can I get you honey?"

"Just water thank you."

"Well angel you are going to need more than that to wash away that hunted look on your face."

Her bracelets jangled on her wrists as she fished out a bottle of water from the refrigerator. Her hair was ebony fire, swirling all over and around her face. Her eyes were dark, dark eyes that seemed to see through your soul and touch you from inside. I felt like I could trust her with anything but I was afraid so I kept quiet. It hurt not being able to tell my story but I felt if I said it aloud my mission would be scarred somehow.

"Tell you want honey, I'll give you this napkin I found here the other day. A guy came in and wrote some things on it, things you look like you can appreciate."

The gypsy's eyes held an unreadable gleam as she slid the napkin across the bar. Curious, I took it up and nearly dropped it again. It was Nikolai's handwriting. I could recognise it in my sleep. His loopy font in the words of a song. The ink had smudged slightly but I knew it was the song he had come to write. My breath caught in my chest and I felt like a beaten Indian drum. For a moment I felt like I had found him and I could be complete again. I can be sure that he was here and I can find him and it will be alright.

Dear Nikolai,

You told me that everything would be alright if we were together. But now that we are not what is? When you were gone you took a part of my soul with you and now nothing is the same anymore. I always felt like I needed to save you. In a way we are two broken souls and broken wings and broken hearts. You used to guide me through the dark places and the ugly bad spirits. It was like when you were with me everything felt happier. Like childrens' dreams and floaty sea kisses. But now that you are not what will I do? What will we do, all of us vulnerable and destroyed warriors who love too much and wish for the world?

Coming out of Literature lessons always leave me feeling raw, slightly broken and very vulnerable. Like you suddenly realise things that you never knew  was possible. Love is not really love because maybe noone really loves anyone maybe it is all just words we say. Villians are not all bad and in eerie ways you like them, like them more than you like the good guys. And angels, angels can come down to earth. I feel like I am no longer learning Literature because I need to do well for the big examinations but like they are lessons to life that strips skin from bone forces you to see things you did not and things you did not want to admit. On so many different levels you can relate to all the warriors and ghosts and kings and feel that bits and pieces of them are parts of you, too.

On a different note, Orientation is taking a toll on everyone but I know we can pull this off. Feelings fray at the edges and I feel myself unravelling like a ball of yarn and sometimes I feel if I stop breathing for a second I will break. Like we are all walking on tea cups and waiting for them to break. But I am stoked we all are and that it how I know we will pull this off.

Now I am listening an old version of Rootless Tree and Damien Rice is killing me from inside.

"You know what wrong with you, Miss Whoever-You-Are? You’re chicken. You got no guts. You’re afraid to say, “Okay, life’s fact.” People do fall in love. People do belong to each other, because that’s the only chance anybody’s got for real happiness. You call yourself a free spirit, a wild thing. You’re terrified somebody’s going to stick you in a cage. Well baby, you’re already in the cage. You built it yourself. And it’s not bounded by tulip, Texas, or Somaliland. It’s wherever you go. Because no matter where you run, you just end up running into yourself."

This week has been surreal. It is hard to believe that it is only the first week of school when things have been pretty much unbelievable. Meridian Open House was a huge deal for all of us, and it is amazing what we learn without meaning to. I am really beyond proud of my Atlas Warriors each and everyone of them. Academically we are all scared and uncertain but we will pull through, we always do.

It is a funny thing, faith. If you hang on to it strong enough, if you will it to happen with all your heart and all the wishes of tears and beautiful people, faith will come through for you.

This is of every holiday we ever had. Of warm summer afternoons and long moonlit nights through the haze of cigarette smoke. Of wrapping yourself in Indian silk mummy-style and propping your legs on the coffee table and watching rented movies sans popcorn. This is of spending too much time in street confetti carnivals with bejewelled elephants and dancing fairies and beautiful people, laughing louder than the parade, watching the night sky sprinkled with stardust and children’s wishes.

This is when you discover your future is catching up with you while you are catching your breath. This is when you look back at what you have done and discover that it is nothing, not really. Forget everything like the shoe boxes under your bed, like the receipt in your pocket, like your white lie years ago. When once upon a lover you can wake up with the sun kissing your face but not now. Not anymore.

This is of packing bags and tying laces and fastening headbands. Of watching other people with their bags slung across their shoulders saying This is what we are bringing to the edge of nowhere.
This is how it feels to have your life begin in

five.

Like a dream we were walking together fingers loosely entwined breathing soft. It was quiet, almost too quiet, like the silence that came before a storm. The moment felt precious, like I had to hold it really carefully or it will fall and break. It felt like we could be like this forever, in this little world of ours where nothing and noone can hurt us. Where we had each other and everyone and where I feel safe. The sun hits Nikolai's face and dances across his features, like fire. Like starshine. We were like different people here, like angels in clouds, beyond ourselves and the words we did not say.

"Do you ever think of the future?"

"Of course. You are in it."

He looked at me and I felt like he was seeing me for the first time. "Do you think we should be together just because it feels safe?"

When I did not say anything he continued.

"I'm leaving. I'm going to New York, to do my music. I need to know. If it will be different. I need to find myself."

My fingers felt numb. I looked down to see if they were still there but it was hazy, wavery because of my tears. My chest ached, like something was dying inside. It sounded like a wounded animal and felt like death. I felt broken inside and I did not know what to do.

So I ran. Away from the dream-turned-to-nightmare and away from the boy I thought I knew. I heard his whispered words in the winds saying I still love you but it did not feel like love. It felt like an ugly creature sifting through the winds and pulling me back. He was pulling me back. It was like I left this whole piece of myself with him and selfishly I wanted it back. I knew I loved him still but right now the rage consumed me and I could not see beyond my moccasin sandals. I just wanted to lie in bed and curl up and forget.

When I woke up I knew without a shadow of doubt that he was gone. There was a heavy, stifling sense of sorrow in the room and it was hard to breathe. My face felt wet with sleep-tears and it was so cold. I looked in the mirror and did not recognize myself. The Aisling in the mirror had look like heartbreak. Eyes that once danced like filled with sparkling silver stardust now looked flat, lifeless. Like sidewalk cement. The feathers woven in my hair were now limp, scraggly and sad-looking, braids in tangles. I felt all dry of tears, like there was broken parts rattling in me. Hollow.

There was a picture of me and Nikolai on the mirror. It hurt looking at it. It was taken after one of his shows and someone pushed me on stage and I remembered the laughter and the flash of the camera. His arm was around my waist and his grin was wide, happy. Like someone in love. When you looked at the picture you would think that Nikolai and Aisling would be together forever. That they would live happily ever after in a candy coloured house with huge shady trees that you can have picnics under in the backyard. That they would make music and love and dance in valleys riding speeding cars down interstate highways. You would think that they would be happy with each other and never need anything more.

This is why I loved photographs.

This is why I hated photographs.

When I tore it it felt like I was tearing a piece of my soul. Like the petals of a flower, like daffodils breaking between my fingers. But even in pieces he was beautiful. Fragile, broken like me. I wanted to fall to my knees and scream for him to come all the way back. I cradled the pieces in my hands, as if willing them to bring him back to me. But his eyes were dead. Blank. Like my reflection was never there.

I knew I love him. I also knew, deep down to my bones, that he loves me too. I just wished it made a difference. It seemed like I was dreaming and wishing for him forever, and just when I found him he was slipping away.

I have mixed feelings about returning to school. On one hand, it will be really great seeing the circus again. And falling into a routine. Feeling like I have a purpose and things I have to do. But going back to school would start off the whirlwind of things that I am not sure I am prepared to face. Which is coward me talking, because I am scared we all are but we would have to face it anyway. We cannot float in a makeshift world of dreams and nothingness forever.

I wish I were more certain about everything. That it will pay off. Now I just feel like a lost chop shop boy.

This has been a year of new things. New people new experiences new love. It is like when you first discovered something precious and you walk around on eggshells so you do not hurt it or lose it. And the mistakes. The mistakes you make that make you feel like shit afterwards but then you realise that it is okay to make those mistakes because how else can you say you have lived. Regret for causing hurt to the people you love, for doing something stupid then wanting to cry when you hear frantic voice messages that got left when you did not pick up the phone. Happiness that comes with the knowledge of accomplishments. Not fulfillment, never that. But maybe momentary contentment that you wish would just LAST FOREVER.

So it seems that a new decade begins. And with it comes new stolen moments, new obsessions and secret idealizations. And maybe, just maybe, we can make new magic. It seems like we can become different people now. People who do not hurt easily or get broken by feathers or live on broken pieces of glass, but people who float to places and live on love listening to poetry in basements and buying clothes that look like heaven and feels like angels hugging you. Where it does not matter that time is running out or that it is a new year or that 2010 can break you future because it cannot break your soul.

And if you have faith, if you have faith things will be alright. We can be human and our own selves. All the magic and power and beauty and wholeness finally coming together.

Happy New Year kids.