Finally, I finished and sent off the letter I had been writing my mother. It felt amazing when I finished it due to all the stress writing it caused, but then it felt absolutely nauseating when I went to post it. I lingered for an age at the postbox till I found the strength to part with the letter. The thought that I may not have written the right thing now haunts me, and I probably will not find peace till I have a reply. Waiting for one is surely going to be torturous. I almost wish that I had sought to have a face to face exchange. For although it would have been both awkward and scary, at least I would have had an instant response. My paining over whether I should have included a form of contact other than an address, seems pointless since I do not even know for sure if my mother still lives in the house I grew up in. If she does, time will only tell if she has the heart to forgive me for leaving. Though, she is equally to blame for me leaving. Even if she was not aware of it, she systematically drove me away.
At therapy, we did this video technique thing. We were to comment on and analyse the various social situations seen in a scene of a film. Most people merely used the time to nap. I did not, or rather, I was prevented from doing so, for, Gabriel, the boy that had spoken to me on my night out, pulled up a chair next to me. I was taken aback more than anything, but that did not stop me from smiling. After a sickeningly awkward few moments, we stuttered our way into a conversation. Just like the first time I had met him, I soon felt at ease, as though the minutes spent with him were in fact years. If he went out of his way to seek me out, then surely he must not be the bastard that Mary paints him out to be. Our whispered conversation touched on many topics, but it mainly centred around a gathering the law would find fault with, which he invited me to, and at which his band would be playing. It is apparently to be held in a church that is being renovated, thanks due the scheming of a rebellious vicar’s daughter. He was reluctant to say much more, other than I was to go to a gas station in Fulham on the night, and from there I would get directions. After promising it to be a memorable night and saying that he hoped to see me there, he left to go to some afternoon college lectures.
Predictably, I ended up crafting elaborate fantasies about how the night may play out. I am so pathetic that I as good as fall in love with anyone that acknowledges me, who I have the slightest bit of interest in. A touch of the hand as good as registers as a marriage proposal in my head. Owing to such distracting thoughts, I did not get much use out of Christopher’s time, but it is no worry, for he has taken a shine to me, so I am sure he would give up time to give me extra guidance should I need it. He has in a way come to be some sort of a father figure, not that I have need for one. I told him about the invitation Gabriel had given me, for once I put my fantasies in check I saw that the night was likely to feature me lonesome, surrounded by his friends, while he was off keeping busy. When I next see him, I shall ask for Christopher's advice on whether I should attend this night out.
My days now have promise, at least I view them to, and I said as much when asked how things were going for me, by my course coordinator at college. I had thought that when such questions about my time at the therapy sessions were asked, I would have had to lie. I am feeling good about everything and feel inspired as a result, so I sense I may find myself working through the night with my art. The time I almost burnt down my old flat due to careless soldering plays on my mind, so I will make sure to be wide eyed. I dare not even go near Kilburn in case I have a chance run in with my old landlord, whom I still owe a fair amount of money to.
