My cousin had a baby, and she’s lovely!

My blogs should be longer. Sorry.

You can become a fan of Briony on facebook? I mean, yeah, it doesn’t say Briony but it is… obviously.

http://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Ashli-Louise-Hollister/

The big move is now officially a week away, I’m excited but feel slightly sick.

Mitchell & Webb will never fail to amaze me.

My definition of love (I’m assuming you meant romantic) is a feeling that never leaves you. It’s when you know you’ll never forget someone because they have changed your life. It’s when they aren’t constantly at the front of your mind screaming and wailing but are instead sat quietly at the back, still always there, but leaving you room to think and live your life. It’s when you can accept that they aren’t perfect, or even close, and you can say that, because you know that they are just a human, not a God. It’s when you’re past worship, infatuation and lust and can feel so deeply that it never goes away. It’s when it’s beyond an attraction and a want for conformity. It’s when nothing will ever be the same, but you don’t mind. It’s when just the sound of their voice, or reading something they’ve said on a page or even just hearing their name can melt your heart, because their looks are just a bonus. It’s when you can look at them at their weakest and still think they are the most amazing person you know. It’s when you know that they aren’t everything to the world, but they are everything to you. It’s when you don’t have to constantly tell someone you love them, because they are already certain.

Wow, that sounded slushy and weird and we’ll never talk about it again.

I’m awake again, eyes half closed and a slight smile drawn on my face in light pencil, dark enough to be seen but light enough to be rubbed away. I reach across for a packet of cigarettes, my hand falls on the packet and for a second I’m desperate, then I remember I’m not addicted and manage to pull away, my smile pencilled in a little deeper, if you rubbed it out, you could still see that it had been there. I look around me and push away the covers, my legs look up at me and I smile down at them, wondering why we couldn’t get along before, when they are clearly quite acceptable.

They swing over the bed and

onto the floor, I pushed my hair up, not running my fingers through it, but just pushing it aside and then think about standing from the comfy bed I’ve been laying in for the past eighteen years. It wasn’t good for me, but comfy. It was warm, comforting, almost a safe place for me to hide away. All I had to do was stay there, sink my head into the pillows, be at one with my sheets and hold the duvet over my head, nobody could get me in my comfy bed.

I stand up. I don’t need my bed any more because I feel safe wherever I am, and everything around me is a beautiful shade of black, soaking up each tiny ray of sunlight and warming me far better than my safe, comfy bed ever could.

I light a cigarette, just for the smell, the smoke wraps around me and my smile is scribbled on with a huge red felt tip, it looks childish, and adorable, like the freckles I wear proudly. I used to hide each and every one with a disgusting foundation, I’d feel closed in, suffocating in my make up, and on my bed, but now I’m standing and my face is free, and I feel almost free again.

I can feel it, but it’s so hard to explain. I haven’t talked about it, because I don’t know how and I’m trying now, but it’s no use. I open my mouth, my big, red, childish mouth but nothing escapes, not even a breath. My smile becomes a smirk for a second as the door opens, then I think of a word.

“Hello.”

It’s all I can say as I see you, nothing else seems right. I could try and tell you how I feel, but it would sound stupid, or I could try and describe you, but I’d never manage it, so I just say it again.

“Hello.”

You say it back, with your own red smile.

“Hello.”

Then I know what it all means. We’ve found it. We’ve found our special word, and now we’ll never have to cringe at “I love you.” again.

Hello, Hello, Hello, you lovely, lonely man.

One day, you’ll work for Rag Dolly. She’ll be fair, she won’t judge you. Laughing at your apathetic face as you realise the bills are stacking up. She won’t hurt you, like you hurt her and her words will not be cold, her tea might be. Your world could crash around you, and she’ll offer you a nice British cup of tea, that’s all you want, for Britian to be British. So she’ll make you a cup of tea, dust you off and send you back to work. Maybe she’ll send you to die, isn’t that the British way? Pride in racism? Doing as we’re told? Dying for approval and the nod of the lady in the crisp white blouse?

How elitist of you, how very Ronny of you, how very Benup of you, how very charming and witty. I suppose that was your first trick, standing on the top of the slide waving down at mother. “Mummy, look at me, I can make fun of a Muslim!”

I’m sure she was bursting with pride. You slid your way down, laughing with glee and landed perfectly, managing to kick a girl in the face on your way down. You grabbed her by the collar of her ill fitting winter coat and pulled her along. Rag dolly you called her, although she pleaded to be called Lara, yes, Rag Dolly followed you everywhere, for a fiver, which she took home and gave to her Rag Dolly mummy, who pleaded to be called Christine when she followed your mummy at work. You trampled on your Rag Dolly sometimes, threw her, pushed her, hurt her during a tantrum, then demanded cuddles when you felt all better, so she told you to stuff it and ran away. Rag Dolly and Rag Dolly senior moved away that year, just the two of them. You cried for a day then enjoyed your summer holidays, ignoring her and thinking about how cool you were.

Emphasis is endlessness, goes on and on for hours. Your words like spit, drop down a bit from your pretty, silly tower. You’re so grown up, you know the world, yet live life like a childish girl. You steal vocab, you steal the dream, you say things that you’ll never mean. Keep on talking, keep on working, throw the towel and throw the shirt in, throw the skirt and throw the eyes, the decency, along with lies. Throw your dignity, throw a strop, scream and shout to make it stop, throw your voice, do a make up check before you rush through the door and scream “I Object!”.

Why does it always want to see me crying, does it get something from my tears, what does it gain from all this lying, is it still feeding from childish fears? Am I a monster or am I a baby? Am I a mess or simply your lady? Am I a dreamer or am I the dream? Am I the key change or merely a scream?

Why is it killing me with every short second? Why do I let regret catch my attention? Why do I harbour a secret obsession? Why do I sing you a secret confession?

Why does it cheat me of all but my breath? Why does it hurt me, yet love me to death? How can love love me, when all it can do, is bring me such sorrow and remind me of you? Is this love love, or a curse of my youth? I’m burnt on the floor from my search for the truth.

Why is it killing me with every short second? Why do I let regret catch my attention? Why do I harbour a secret obsession? Why do I sing you a secret confession?

Eyes averting, words are hurting, I don’t give a damn
In the club, I’m way above the claws of every man
They’re watching me, their eyes are following
I pay no attention to the boys outside hollering

It’s all about the heart, it’s all about those words
When we’re moving on the dancefloor, it’s the message that is heard
We don’t hear what they’re saying outside on the streets
It’s all about my baby and the sound of the beat

Are you ready for the sound of my voice?
Stand up or shut up, everybody has a choice
I won’t sit down and stand around with nothing left to say
You can hear the melody, let the message set you free
Let my words take you away

It’s all about the heart, it’s all about those words
When we’re moving on the dancefloor, it’s the message that is heard
We don’t hear what they’re saying outside on the streets
It’s all about my baby and the sound of the beat

Been waiting here forever
Just you and I together
And nothing could be better
Than telling you just how I’m feeling
Boy this is real so start believing

It’s all about the heart, it’s all about those words
When we’re moving on the dancefloor, it’s the message that is heard
We don’t hear what they’re saying outside on the streets
It’s all about my baby and the sound of the beat