Welcome all to the calm beneath the sheltering branches of The Oak at Ponderton.

Its windy up there and the top branches are whipping about making an awful racket.

They keep me awake as they bang on the windows of the room that has appeared by The Mighty Oak this night.

It is the nature of Ponderton’s ever shifting landscape that you come here by all kinds of means. Sometimes you journey here intentionally, others you arrive in a room or a building somewhere in its lands. Today my glass room has formed a little too close to the whipping younger branches of the heart of the region which have been animated in a sudden storm.

Upon realisation that I had arrived here, I chose to leave the noise of the room and sit on the soft grass, back against the warm wood and look up at the glass room that is creating such a noise when I am on the inside- much like being in a conservatory- when you go outside the noise becomes pure, and the amplifications and echoes you hear when trapped inside are gone.

I look up, seeing the disturbance from the outside and try to work out what is noise from actual contact and what the level of storm is and hear truly the issues stripped of multiplications that come when bouncing of and around an enclosed space.

Doing this will allow me to calm the air that moves the branches with a proportonate effort of energy to the task in hand rather than trying to soundproof everything inside, or going mad from the noise. Both of which I have tried and failed to do on several occasions in different storms in the past.

Once again the storm that brings me to the Oak seeking solace is an old storm, but at least it now brings me here and i know how to minimise the storm damage.

All things in Ponderton require you to think about them as honestly and as objectively as you are capable of doing at that point in time to untangle them, calm them, find them, soothe them, build them, well you get the picture.

So I sit under the Tree and concentrate.

On a painful story, that becomes more ridiculous as I tell it out loud, and with each line considered the storm abates a little.

Here is a story of a rubbish friendship, like seriously a crappy attempt at lovers being friends and how stupid, blind and complicit love makes you. But when it ends it hurts. It really hurts, then you look at the facts and think actually, have I really lost anything here other than a bad habit?

Interlude and Symphony

13 years ago i met someone who changed my life.

Today, almost 13 years to the day, I have decided that road is at its end and it is time to part ways.

11 years ago almost to the day, i realised I was in love for the first time,

10 years ago almost to the day, he broke my heart

10 years ago ago i moved across the country for him. Turns out hed been with someone else the whole time who lived locally- I was his weekend entertainment. That all fell apart when I moved up….

9 years ago we didnt speak for 6 months but then suddenly it got better-

We were finally able to function as friends my life in the new location with him became wonderful, exciting and interesting

8 years ago things the spark was still there and threatening to reeignight between us, i said no sort your shit out, if you are unhappy leave your gf,

7 years ago he did leave his gf,  he picked someone else, i lost my shit at him,

For 7 years we have tried to be friends to relative degrees of success. I am not proud to say occasionally there were dalliances.

3 years ago I met someone- I moved to New Zealand for Him ( that went horriffically wrong-another story)

1 year ago i come home he says hes leaving his gf but not yet, i am an emotional wreck after NZ and just cant engage with anyone, let alone this one, but mainain polite contact.

He says hes leaving soon, and the contact ramps up. Hope floats. Contact becomes more frequent but i am still a mess. Tread carefully. Hes done this before. He is a liar and a cheat and hes broken up with his gf before and not picked you. What makes you think he wont do it again?

You know you are just something he does to entertain himself when he is bored, you look a bit more exotic than what is at home for him, your lifestyle is different to his, you just intrigue him. But hes not proud of you. He never has been, you are just someone he knows has feelings for him and uses as an ego boost.
Play this mantra on repeat

Or so you think.

The other half of your brain thinks maybe he can change.

A friend tells you hes left his gf. You ask him. Yes. He has. Ok lets meet up. Hes nice, but evasive. Doesnt match the texts that have been coming through.

Alarm bells.

Something isnt right

Poke it

When did you break up…?

Erm…. about a year ago…

LIES. Hes been lying to you for a year about stuff.

There must be a reason.

Dont qualify it. Hes lying again.

You are an idiot. You let it go.

The more you write this down, the more you wonder why he got 13 years out of you.
So, he needs time, hes just come out of a long relationship, but he keeps telling you he wants to do things, go places do this and that with you, the texts keep coming, but nothing actually comes of it.

Hes busy when you say hey, im up your way for the weekend, wanna do something, but hes still messaging you,

He tells you hes on holiday alone and then you see pictures of the girl he went on holiday with.

You know what. Its time to stop.
13 years of lies, half truths, false friendships, sneaking around, empty messages broken promises.
We arent friends. We have never been.
Ive loved you since the day I met you.

I have no idea what I am or have been to you. A distraction, entertainment, a safe bet, a constant.

Whatever we were or are it cant carry on. I confront you, you are nonchalant, acting like its been a bad year and it excuses your lies this time.

Its been a bad decade. You say when cornered you dont think there is a future for us, fine. Couldnt you have said that years ago? Why keep coming back to me?

You know how i feel- you tell me its not your fault i f have feelings for you, no its not, but you didnt have to play on them. To feed them, to dream into the future with me.

We returned to each other through several partners. I see now that was hella stupid.

For you i am merely an interlude and that is all i have ever been.

I have been in love twice. I am not sure you ever fall out of love with some people- it is different love for different people.
My love for you has been young love turned to hopeful love.

When I came back to the country thought we finally might have our time.

But it seems the dishonesty, lack of comprehension of the feelings of other people, and the selfishness of self gratification that i feared are firmly ingrained in your personality

I have never been anything but an interlude for this man, pleasant lift music as he bimbles from one bit of his life to the next, or a way of him sampling things from the menu without committing.

Realising this FUCKING HURTS

But it is also a momenent of clarity.

If a shoe has a spikes in it you may have got used to being poked while being walked. That doesnt mean you have to continue with it when you finally realise that the spike can be taken out.

Just beacause you have taken off other shoes that were hurting you doesnt mean you have to go back to your old ones just because they are the ones that you are  really fond of.

Its probably better to have no shoes than ill fitting ones. Even if you love them.

Yes it took me 13 years to realise this. I am not proud of that. I came to the concept of love late for a number of reasons and as such have a mixed up view of what it looks like and whether i am entitled to have it, all of it, in its purest and strongest form.

Its taken me until now to decide that damn well yes I am.
I am worth more than an interlude.

I am not elevator music.

I am a fraking symphony Big and noisy and layered and deserving of good acoustics should the room make its way to Ponderton.

That hall will not be one that i will seek to leave and sit outside of rather the storm will form part of the symphony and I will dance in the rain.

Until then, i sit here, in the aftermath of a painful decision, reflecting as the branches of the tree now simply sway wondering if i will feel different knowing i wont text him when im bored, or respond to the texts he sends me if he hasnt quite got the message when he is bored.

I guess some people are not meant to be friends. But we are not meant to be interludes either.

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