10th January 2000

I walked down Waterloo bridge yesterday with a friend, and it was a beautiful sunny day. We watched the sun set and my heart sang - sunsets are special to me; call me strange but there's something about the way the sky lights up in hues of reds and golds and yellows that makes me feel that much closer to God, that makes it impossible for me to deny His existence. Yes, I'm Christian and I admit it. I'm not of the Original Faith, I'm Anglican, and I'm not one of the happy clappy contemporary Christians, but I'm somewhere in between and it doesn't matter to me. I believe in God and the ressurection; I believe in the second coming; I believe in trying to do the right thing, always. I've driven half of you away already; this is the wrong thing to do on any public page. We're supposed to be politically correct and either refrain from religion or put on our cool world-weary we-know-it-all scornful masks and scoff and say look at all those religious crackpots I'm so glad I'm not one of them, I'm a freethinker and proud of it. Well here's news for you. I'm not a religious crackpot. I don't change the world. I believe, and that's enough for me. Other people don't believe, and if that's enough for them, then perhaps it saddens me a tad but it's their choice. In the same way that 50% of the medical students in my university chain smoke. It's their lives. We can't change the whole world, and they feel it's the right things to do with their lives. I won't scoff at them though. I won't laugh at buddhists, I won't condemn Muslims, I won't anything. And that's already doing more than the freethinkers who condemn the rest of the world and perch on their own self-righteous pedestal. Another form of religious fervour under the guise of cool trendiness.

Had a strange day today. Sunset was gorgeous today, hope anyone reading this in London will remember it. The clouds turned the most surreal shade of fire-red I've ever seen, and the sky was a shade of navy blue, bordering on black. It was magical. Stood at my little bus-stop waiting for bus 134 and marvelled for all of the 5 minutes it lasted, then my bus arrived and I had to get on it and miss the dying moments of day. And with the darkness came dark thoughts of yesterday, of things that were but weren't, of friends I miss or have wronged, or both. God, I was self-centred today *laughs*.

Talking to Anna the other day on the net, which is pretty much the only way I ever talk to her since she's a world away on the other side of the globe, I said something about how somedays I come back absolutely knackered, absolutely drained and worn-out. Someone warned me once as much, that it'd be like this and I'd have no social life, or space for other people in my life, and I concede defeat to that someone. It is, it is. You were right. I don't. I just have space for my couch and me... Trish has something amusing up on her page about an 0800 number which hits the nail on the head, only in simpler English. And on those days you come back and wish you had someone who would just hold you, in a completely platonic way. A friendly it's-okay-hug. Not a condescending I understand you so well mummy-hug, or a I-love-you-let's-get-physical hug. Just a simple you'll-be-fine kind of thing. And it's funny I should write this considering the way I've been brought up. Jin-ee, one of my closer friends knows how phobic I am about hugs and physicality, and that's not because I'm some serial killer in the making but because I think there should be some significance to it all, rather than the randomness that's going on around the world. Random shagging in the pubs, random snogging, random blokes in the dark or girls in the parks, random emotions, random drive-by-shootings... yeah even those. There's no personal-touch anymore. What kind of sicko could possible drive by in a car and shoot at a complete stranger? There isn't even the excuse of personal hate there. It's just ugliness. And so I could only ever tolerate being hugged by someone really, really close to me, a Real friend which I wrote about a few articles back, and depressingly enough there aren't a whole lot of those around. And the few there are realise how phobic I am and don't... lol. And in a bizarre way I'm grateful.

Well yeah, I had a day like that today. Those of you who know me well enough will understand when I write it was about pasts that weren't. Perhaps someday the Wrong person will read this article, and if you do I pray you that you don't think anything of it. It doesn't mean anything, all this, and you were right, it doesn't matter at all. Life matters and med school matters and reading the blasted pathology book right after I save this file matters... but I'm still human and I still remember, and I'm not going to pretend I don't or to hide it under a guise of cheerfulness; nor will I become melancholic and carry everything to excess. Just reflect for an instant, be saddened and then move on to making dinner and studying that pathology. And with the Grace of God, I will never, ever forget no matter how hard I try, and perhaps I'll be forgiven for all the stupidity that was, someday.

addendum, four years later : I never did forget. And I was never forgiven - nothing to forgive, apparently. and i never did stop missing you. But I'll get over you, I know I will. King of wishful thinking.