Bon Voyage.

I have a giant lump in the middle of my neck and I can't tell if it's from killing two spiders in the span of a minute or watching the same dream flutter away from my fingertips, yet again.

This February, I finally decided that I would have the means to support my life-long ambition to board a plane and visit England for two whole weeks. I've saved and planned, and ambitioned and hoped and prayed and all sorts of other crap to prepare myself for such a grand event.
Eventually my boyfriend mentioned that he would like to add his self to the whole affair, and then of course, we saved and planned, and ambitioned and hoped and prayed and all sorts of other crap.
It was really a plan to behold. Art galleries, Scottland, Paris, pubs, stupid tourist traps, wax galleries, bad food and awful teeth. We thought of it all. But it's all gone up shit creek now 'cause I was vaguely under the impression we'd have a place to stay and then with one slip of the rug, we've all come tumblin' down and everything's just flat out fucked.

My dear friend Jason told me some time ago that he would gladly put us up for the while if he had a house. Of course, the word, "if" was a major complication in the matter, so of course I didn't plan out the whole affair too much. It was just a great idea to think about and something that I've desperately looked forward to for years. Jason has been a good friend to me, and I very much would like to meet him some day. But he told me this afternoon that there would be a chance he wouldn't have a house and he sounded quite mad about it, as if he didn't want me to come at all.
Now I have been acting a bit odd lately. I've been moody and insecure and stupid and insanely annoying and I know a lot of it has unfortunately fell in Jason's lap. So for me to be paranoid about his not wanting me, seems even more stupid and paranoid, but it's just the simple impression that I got.
Stating the words: "Maybe it's not my time to come then," and "Well, it's really up to you," isn't my idea of someone wanting you or not wanting you. It's just so fucking random and indifferent, that I'd rather just have been told to stick my trip up my arse, and bugger off.

Of course I know he said, "if" and I know I sound like a stupid and selfish little brat, but please, let me explain. I wasn't counting on Jason's invisible house to save my trip to England. A house is a house after all, but in London, a house is more than a house. It's a fucking affair, a two pound diamond ring and the Christmas ham. I would be absolutely looney to expect Mr. P to buy a house for my pleasure and holiday. I may be a bit odd, but I'm not a cunt.

So what's with the boo-hooing then? Well, ontop of getting the weird vibes from JIB, he also told me quite some time ago that if he didn't have a house, there would be a place for me to stay and,"not to worry about it, for it would all work out." So, what did I do? I didn't worry. And then with one fatal blow of indifference, that worry came crashing back in. Shit. Piss and Fuckery.
The worst bit of it all of course, was after calling my boyfriend, hoping to get some soothing coo's of, "It's fine dear, we'll work it out" I got, "Well, if it doesn't work. Oh well, we move on."

My dear boy. You are too calm. This dream has been a dream for years and if I do not go in February, I will not go for years and for me to not go for years, would break my black, little heart because it is all I have wanted for such a long while.

This whole post is simply stupid and silly because February is ages away and Jason could have skyscraper by then, with a tiny toy poodle and a massive pool filled with Kaballah water.

One can only plan and ambition and hope and pray and all the other crap in the meantime.