So yesterday, something happened that I didn't expect.
I woke up and I felt nothing. I figured I'd tell Lisa at some point, so I wrote her one last letter to tell her what I was doing. I told her I wanted her to be happy, I told her she was special, I told her that she'd changed my life - that maybe I'd changed it myself, but that she'd given me the belief in myself to do it. I said goodbye.

I met up with her last night for a walk round the park, letter scrunched up in my hand, scarely saying a word. We sat in the car while she had a joint and still I struggled with what to say to her, when she did the sigh she does when she's going to leave, I gave the note to her. I made her read it while she was sat beside me. I couldn't even look at her as she read it, I just stared out the window. When she'd finished I looked at her and she looked like I do, like the smile on her face was a thin mask of happiness that hid very little.

And I held her. As much as I tried to deny it to myself, I was feeling something and it was hurting me. I kissed her forehead and I brushed her hair from her eyes. Then she kissed me. Afterwards, whilst I was holding her, I could feel my heart pounding against my ribs. It was only when I let go that I realised it wasn't my heart I could feel at all. It was hers.

When she'd gone I went home, and I wrote another goodbye letter, to my ex boyfriend. I went round to his house, we had tea, I gave him the letter and I started to cry. I told him the only person who had ever come between us, in all my indiscretions, was Lisa, and the only reason that had happened was because I loved her. I told him I was sorry, I told him I wanted him to be happy and I told him goodbye.

At 2.30 in the morning, I text Lisa and said only 'sweet dreams sleeping beauty', because she said she'd been having nightmares, and just lately I've stopped texting her saying sweet dreams. In fact, I can't remember the last time I sent her a text at bedtime. I didn't text her all day today either. Then she text me this afternoon saying she was stressed and asking how I was. I enquired more into the stress, and as the conversation continued she got worse and worse. In the end I text her and said 'Come here, now. I'm not asking you nicely, I'm telling you' and she did. So I let her vent, I gave her a joint and I gave her some beer, and I gave her a cuddle. Then I curled up on her lap, put my head on her chest and we held on so tight it felt like the world would end, and her heart thundered in my ears.

Then she kissed me.

Now the amazing thing about kissing Lisa, is when she lets go enough, it knocks me off my feet. I literally can't stand up, my legs just buckle. I felt everything tonight, every single feeling she had in her, I don't think she knows that.

Before she left she said she shouldn't kiss me because it confuses things. I told her the thing that confuses me is not kissing her. She said she's confused. She wouldn't say anymore than that, but I know why.

Part of me wants her to let go and trust her heart. The other part of me wishes there was something I could do because I know she's suffering with it. Most of all, I know that no matter how deeply I try to bury them, my feelings for her are still there and I need to trust my judgement on this one.

She's tormented and so am I, and we torment each other.

I don't think she's a lost cause, I believe in her with all my heart and I can't walk away and leave her.

The question is; does that make me weak or strong?

Well, I've survived another week of working. Though the point of it all still seems more than a little elusive. The bills still can't be paid, and I'm in a state of perpetual exhaustion, but I'm still managing to put a brave face on it. Some of the time.

I feel absolutely hollow, I'm preparing to wrap myself in tinfoil. If only I had some Jelly Tots inside me, I'd be as much of a disappointment as an Easter egg.

I've reached the conclusion that broken hearts never actually heal, you just block out the pain. Maybe I've built a wall...It's relatively ineffective, as the hurt still creeps through at times.

 I don't know what to do. I still keep wondering what the hell I've done to deserve feeling like this. To be honest, I can't think of a single thing, which only serves to make it worse.

I've given up trying to talk about it anymore. I figure if I stick it on a blog no one is forced to read it and it still gets my thoughts out.

The options at the moment are considerably limited by finances, my mother is still trying to make me move home, and to be honest, it seems more and more appealling as the days go by, just to walk away from all this while I still can. In fairness, I'd be equally miserable back in Yorkshire, and I'm not feeling brave enough for a new start anywhere else. I don't want to leave my friends - but at the same time, I don't want to be stuck wallowing in misery which someone else controls.

York is the obvious choice of new home, though James isn't even there, so I'd be just as alone as I would be anywhere else.

I could take the male approach and fill my weeks with meaningless sex with people I don't really like, but I can't lower myself to it. What's the point in fucking somebody I don't care about? Maybe I'm missing a point here...But I don't think I am.

Given the chance, I'd get as far away from here, from Nottingham, from England even, as I possibly could, only I realise that it's not a viable option and I have responsibilities here which I can't ignore.

This is never how I thought my life would be at 24. I say that, but I don't remember what I expected. I'm as devoid of direction now as I was 8 years ago, drifting through life, waiting for answers that never come.

Mistakes have been made and the blame is mine alone.

If nothing else, I should be proud that I never lied to myself about it. I followed my heart and it led me to trouble. At least I had the strength to believe in it and give it everything I had.

It's been a week...and 9 years on, the solitary fighter continues the war, accepting that yet another battle has been lost.

So, I made it through the night.

I was up for work by 7.30, I had a shower and I put outdoor clothes on...Instead of pajamas.

I managed the day at work. I haven't cried yet.

Now I'm just contemplating...

I wouldn't say I feel OK, I wouldn't say I'm upset. Right now, I'm numb.

Well hey there,

I'm ashamed to say this is my first update in over 6 months.

It's not that life has been uneventful, in fact it's probably quite the opposite.

I learned my lesson and got rid of the mentally crushing boyfriend...And for a few months in there somewhere, things have been good.

I moved out that weekend he went to Holland and it's been the best move I've made. Things haven't been easy - I'd be a fool if I lied to myself and said they had.

Tonight, for the first time in my life, I'll be sleeping with a broken heart.

I guess I needed to write something, but I didn't know who to write it to...Cos the person I would normal tell doesn't want to know.

I overslept this morning - it was 10.15 when I woke up, I was late for work, and I went in my pajamas. I don't know if anyone noticed, but if they did they were too polite to mention it.

I knew things weren't going to be good today, cos they didn't end good last night.

I feel like I've given everything I have. I've NEVER asked anything of her, I've given her the last of my own strength when she's needed me and I've done all I can. I hurt inside, I've hurt for months, but I've never said because I don't want her upset.

I can't cope. It's as simple as that. I can't manage on my own, with the bills and the working and the depression. There just doesn't seem any point to it. Life just feels like a huge disappointment to me.

Then I met her...

And for the first time I let go, and I loved her so completely, there's nothing in the world I want more than her happiness, and so often it's come at the expense of my own. Tonight, I find myself alone, crying and raw, and trying to accept what I've known all along - she doesn't now, nor will she ever, love me back.

I can't help wondering what's so bad about me? Where have I gone wrong? I've never done anything that would upset her or hurt her. I've protected her so fiercely from anything that could have made her unhappy.

But no one's protecting me.

I can normally say the right thing, I can normally make it better, tonight I just didn't have the words, I could probably have typed them, but I didn't mean them, and I can't lie to her. It's not OK, I'm not OK. Tonight, I told her exactly how sad I felt inside. Tonight, she turned away.

Tonight I gave up.

On myself.

So, my week had been rather uneventful (not in a bad way - in a nice way) Until....I didn't iron boyfriend's shirts on Tuesday night and he unceremoniously decided to evict me. In true Sarah style I confess, I put on my make up, bought some new clothes, and went out and got trollied.

Wednesday was then spent hungover, and feeling sorry for myself - I woke up at 5.30 on Wednesday morning wondering where the hell I was, only to discover I was on Jamie's sofa, and after 10 minutes, realising I wasn't alone...(don't worry - it wasn't like THAT)

Anyway, after a day subjected to shopping and madness, I was pretty exhausted with the whole thing, and retreated to Jamie's.

When reunited with the boyfriend later that evening, all was well, and we packed our suitcase ready for yesterday's trip to Holland.

At 3am yesterday morning, rudely awoken from my blissful slumber, I was not best pleased. I felt ill! Very very ill. And by the time we got to the airport at 4.45am, I'd made up my mind that I wasn't fit to travel. So I stayed at home. Boyfriend hasn't said a word to me since. *sigh*

But Laura and Rosie brought me tulips yesterday :-) and that was rather lovely. And the nice doctor gave me lots of drugs to make my poorly self better.

Last night I slept alone, for 12 hours - apart from my coughing fit at 5 this morning...and I feel really lonely :-( 

I did totally try to update over the weekend but the 20six  website was hell bent on stopping me.

The weekend passed without major incident. My achilles tendon aches from Friday night's  'Ski Sunday Dance'

Harry made a dramatic surprise return from Australia 5 months early.

Despite my increasingly bad chest infection, I agreed yesterday to a trip to Toys R Us with Laura, we left with 3 kites, 3 hula hoops and a skipping rope. Then we bought a garden gnome and 3 pots of paint. Then we went down to the Water Sports Centre (sounds kinky but it's not...lol) met up with Lisa and flew our kites and had a smoke. It was a good day all in all!

Tomorrow my exciting life takes me down to London for Laura's Marie Claire interview - I won't pretend I'm not gutted, I don't want her to leave :-( But if she's gonna go I wanna be supportive, I want her to be happy, even if that's not here.

However, in the meantime, my poor exhausted body needs to recover sharpish before this afternoons hijinx. And I really would love a fag, if I thought it wouldn't incapacitate me for the rest of the day I'd be down there right now chuffin away.

So, for the first time in ages I went out for work's Thursday Night Curry.

I dragged Lo along for some social interaction. After 2 pints I'd persuaded Dr Pete to come home and get stoned with us, we still had a can of cider in the fridge so we were well set.

Anyway, I decided I was in need of a deal, my weed supply is a bit low. My dealer thought better of answering his phone, after all, he nicked mine last week.

Still, we managed with what we had left.

Typing whilst stoned is rather difficult. The beer hasn't helped. But we're watching Peep Show and I'm rather amused. But then, I'm easily amused I am.