Wednesday, 10 September 2008

Oh Dear...

It was envitable, really. Had to happen. Sod's law. Woke up this morning, and within seconds I started to remember the events of yesterday - my break up with Clare, and the feeling of a weight being lifted that followed straight after it. Oh dear, I thought, what have I done?!

It's strange to experience hindsight so soon after something has happened, but looking back on yesterday I can still see that the outcome was the best way forward for me and Clare - but now I miss her more than ever before, and I'm kinda regretting the choice we made. Why didn't I show even a little resistence to the break up? Why didn't I let her know just how much she did mean to me? Why did I moan so much, at a time when I've never been happier?

Ultimately I have to just accept what happened, and hope for the best with regards to the future. Clare is still there in my life (unlike Katie) and I feel her presence - she's a fantastic lass, who I love to bits. We both chose this path, and we've got to live it. That part of me that wants her back has to realise the reasons why we've chosen to seperate - and realise that it *was* for the best :)

So, what now? Well I carry on like normal. Just me, living my life, taking in experiences and trying my damn best hardest to be happy. I'm writing my very first sequel, a follow-up to "Self" titled "The Other" - that reunites audiences with the Horatio Maguire character, in a story loosely based upon my experiences last year regarding the death of my friend Roger Manthorpe. Dunno if we'll film it yet, but fingers crossed!

It's a different sort of beast to "Self" - full of confidence and paranoia, about a guy who's learnt a few life lessons and can't believe where fate has taken him. He's on the verge of something big, even if he doesn't realise it yet - and if he would just open his eyes, he's see all this beauty around him and the pain that seeing such things brings.

No doubt as I'm writing that I'll return to the dozen or so other scripts that lie half completed in my bedroom. It's that fun period (oh, the irony!) where I'm getting pumped up for my return to university knowing that, soon, I won't have a chance to write the things I want to write, or even do the things that I want to do. For the next seven and a half months I'm prisioner of Bolton Uni - they are my puppeteers, controlling my every waking thought.

I return October 7th. Oh dear, indeedy.
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