When I left Brisbane I left a couple of rings on a table at my Grandad's. They were pretty much the only jewellery I ever wore, two silver rings on my pinky fingers. The first one was a simple silver band with an oval moonstone set into the centre, and the second one had a kind of celtic design band with a black onyx set into the centre. I bought both of them when I was going out with the Greek – the first one purely because I liked it (it was always my favourite) and the second I initially bought partly because it reminded me of him since he often wore a bracelet of black onyx beads, but also because I liked the idea of having one black, one white – it felt balanced. I found though that I often wore just the moonstone, though when the Greek was a little further in the past I returned to wearing both.

Anyway, I'm kind of describing them for posterity I guess because I don't have them anymore. I left them in Brisbane. I have heard before that often you lose jewellery and stones such as this when you no longer need them, so I guess I didn't anymore... or perhaps it is just time to stop relying on the power of such things. I never realised how much I used to play with them, I often now find myself stroking my bare pinky fingers...

And I'll never have them again now. You see, I asked the Boy to get them for me from my Grandad's... he had them in a pocket of his pants, and when he arrived at his destination they were gone. It's a strange thing though, because his pockets button up and he's never lost so much as a coin from them before... they really wanted to go. They're somewhere on the Pacific Highway. He told me on the phone last night, and with the introduction he gave it I was thinking of much worse scenarios than losing a couple of rings that cost no more than $20 altogether, he was so upset about it because he knows I've been wearing those rings for years. I think he was also kind of upset for himself though, he said he felt like they were the only pieces of me that he had left. It was why he was still carrying them in his pocket.

Last night I spent another 2000 yen to talk to him for an hour... I think our plan will be to get webcams and speak via messenger on the internet or something, because he does not have a land line and I cannot go on calling his mobile and spending all this money. I miss him so much at the moment... I have no idea how I'm going to make it for a year. It's really crazy too, because I know that things are probably not going to magically be perfect between us when I get back, and he knows it as well as I do... we both feel the same way about one another – it's not perfect, but there are so many things that we do like about one another that we just can't walk away from it. Right now more than anything I just miss the friendly ear. I know I have people here that I can talk to, but I want to be talking to him. I want to be sharing what's going on with him. And I want to sleep beside him. I want him to hold me and tell me that it's going to be okay. I think everyone needs to be told that it's okay once in a while.

Teaching is exhausting. I can't say it's something that's coming easily. I find the job difficult and even though I’m only a couple of weeks into it I have already felt at times that I am not going to make it the whole year. I seriously don't know how I am going to do this. I thought I was good at being alone, but I am lonely. I remember when I was a kid, teachers were like parents, they were infallible and amazingly strong, they never got sad or lonely or cried. It turns out that teachers are people too. I watch TV, something that I rarely do, on the few nights that they show movies in English just so that I can hear words that I understand. I am sick of not understanding the conversations around me and having the kids I teach mock me in words that I don't understand. Why do I make life hard for myself? Why is there a part of me that seems to believe that life was meant to be hard?

Is the hard road necessarily the better one?

Last year was the year of the monkey, and if you believe in that stuff both the Boy and I, having been born in the year of the monkey also, were supposed to have a really good year... it was supposed to be our year. I think we were both a little doubtful as to whether that was really the case by the time the year was out... I remember how happy we were in the beginning, my wonderful visits to Sydney, how I thought it was just far too good to be true and didn't believe he would move up to Brisbane to be with me until he arrived... what a big thing he did for us, and he thought we would be happy. I imagined happy ever after too... we were going to get married because we thought that this could never change.

It's obvious that it did change, but the question is what: what changed? Or maybe, who? I keep thinking that he changed for me, he turned out to be someone different from who I thought he was, but I guess that goes both ways... I guess I was not the person he thought I was either. I can't remember how to be the person he met and fell in love with... I thought I was being so honest, I thought I was being myself, but perhaps I wasn't... although I don't know how the hell I can be myself when I don't really know who I am anyway. Maybe he created the change? He loved my independence, but it didn't seem possible for me to be both independent and engaged.

It was less than a week after my first visit to Sydney that he decided to move to Brisbane... we felt like we couldn't live without one another. I almost feel that again now, but only because I am lonely. Is that all it ever was, an absentness fondness? I don't think so... but right now, I feel so weak, I feel like I don't want to be here alone, I feel trapped in some horrible scenario of my own devise. Why am I here alone?

I ask these questions all the time, but I never figure out what and why. What changed, and why did it all fall apart when it looked like my life was falling into place just as it should? Why am I sad? Because I'm forgetting that what I came from was not perfect. And this is only tonight. Only because I taught a shitty class today, only because I have my period, only because I have some Japanese boy trying to pick me up and he's not the one I want to be with. I’m not always like this... I am mostly glad that I am here... but I wish my Boy was here too. I have shared so much of myself with him, and it feels strange to be alone now. Is this hard road truly the better one to take? Is life about forcing yourself to do the hard things? I sincerely don't know.

Before After

© Blueshoe 1999-2005