Sydney Life

Dear Denial,

I have written you a thousand love letters, why don’t you write me back? Sometimes- when I am waiting in line at the supermarket, feeding my dogs or even in that fractional moment of repose between the sentences of a stream of consciousness rant- I find myself longing for your sweet embrace. As clandestine as our relationship is, this infatuation is not borne of a crazy, fumbling un-buttoning of a new sordid affair. No, this is comfortable love. Steady. Consistent. A rock solid, enduring, enveloping love. I think you are my safe place. It is undeniable that you have loved me too, Denial, I mean… I have always found you popping up, showing through, proving yourself to be the reaction I no longer bother registering. You lure me to a place that is so much nicer than The Everyday. You make it beautiful, you make it okay.

Do you remember that past semester? Those 15000 words or so I had to have put down on paper (double spaced with justified text) to prove to Them my worth as a student? Gosh…how we laughed at those looming deadlines. I can still taste the ruby red wine we sipped, throwing caution to the proverbial wind, as you scoffed ‘time, like reality, is a subjective construct. Those due dates exist insofar as you believe them to exist’. You were always so postmodern like that. Sigh.

I once had a particularly un-funny friend at school that used to say, ‘deNile ain’t just a river in Egypt’. Then she would snap her fingers like Tyra Banks. I would look on impassively and the exchange would become a little awkward. I don’t think I ever really ‘got it’. Until now. No, Denial, you ain’t just a river in Egypt! Oh no sir, you are here and now and sometimes, I don’t think I can go on without you! What would happen if I started planning? Would you leave me? What if I organised a study timetable? Rest sessions between essay writing? Spoke to my tutors and lecturers early about things I don’t understand? You wouldn’t find me attractive anymore, would you? What if broke down tasks into smaller jobs and did them incrementally? What if I wrote a ‘to do’ list to help me stay on track? Maybe you would find me boring, a little mundane. I think this fantasy world we created is just a bejewelled cocoon, insulating me from the pointy edges of a reality that would otherwise bruise me until I am as purple as my prose.

I have forgiven all your misgivings: you have minimised mine.

I think if I acknowledged you for who you really are then maybe you wouldn’t cloud my judgement just as you crowd my head. But you have traced your pattern on my skin. Our love is a perverse joy; such sweet torture. Sometimes I wonder if I am just a plaything to you…

But, of late, I feel my affection for you waning as Semester Two shapes itself on the horizon. My planner is already filled with future engagements, study commitments and all things extracurricular. I have to be there for them- and be there on time and with 8 hours sleep. It is so selfish of you to make me believe that other things do not exist except you. You want me to block them out and succumb to your siren call. It is not going to be this way anymore. I need to get myself sorted. I need you out of my head! I want to dump you dramatically, heart wrenchingly and with a sense of solemn finality. I want to be the one who breaks it off. You wouldn’t deny me that pleasure, Denial, would you?

Bec xoxo