The Memories of Goodbyes

I'm the selfish one, I'm not meant to be the one who says goodbye.

I remember the first time I remember saying goodbye. I was three, and it was Grandpa. I remember being sad because Dad was sad even though I hadn't known my grandpa that well and have very few memories of him. Besides, I was told I had another grandpa, so I figured there wasn't any reason to be so sad since there was a backup. I've come a long way from that little girl, and I've learned a thing or two about goodbyes.

Just like almost everything else in life, saying goodbye has different seasons. There are the warm and sunny ones, promising new possibilities. There are the autumns, the goodbyes that mark the transformations of friendships into deeper, richer tones of colour. There are the cold, wintry ones. There are those ones that leave you with a pang, leave you wanting, hoping that summer comes early. And there are those ones you’re never given the chance to say… I’ve had so many seasons, a whole lot of them, and yes, I sure have learned a great deal.

There was the season when I was always watching people leave. Well, that thing called life happened and I wove goodbye to one member of my family after the other. I didn't mind because by then, I'd been smart enough to learn how to live in my head and not mind having my own company. I guess I grew up a lot in those years, and weirdly, they are some of the really best ones of my life. I learned a few hard lessons then, learned a few deep truths about myself and I can say those were my defining years. I remember saying goodbye to my best friend in JSS3 and how we swore to be BFFs forever, but we never quite got around to it. Life again, I guess. I once asked a friend (as he was leaving, of course) why I was always saying goodbye. He told me, " This isn't goodbye, it’s see you later." Sweetheart that he was, he either really believed that, or he was just trying to protect my naïve heart from harsh reality. One thing I've come to realize is this: goodbyes are always goodbyes, and most times, they are forever. People always leave. That was Peyton Sawyer’s line in One Tree Hill, and I quite agree with her. Whether they want to or plan to, whether they tell you or just slink off, whether they keep their promises to be back or not, people leave, and I kept wondering when it would be my turn to leave. Even Brownie, one of the numerous pets Dad kept while we were growing up, did. Sometimes, thinking back over the years, I feel quite like I'm standing on a platform at King's Cross, and the crowd is bustling around me, coming and going. I feel like the solitary still object in a time-lapse clip. People come, and people go. It's the circle of life, and I sometimes feel like a confused girl on that crowded platform, wondering if I should be going somewhere, too, wondering where I should be going.

And then came that season when I learned just the sort of coward I was...I didn't get to say goodbye to Detayo before she left, and sometimes, even now, it still hits me like a blow, and I’m left with my head reeling, wondering what happened. I'll never be able to put the shock, the horror, the unreality of it all, the numbness, the piercing pain, the anger, the rage, the disbelief, the guilt, the raw fear of what you don't even know, the incredulity, the deep-seated sorrow, the loss, all of it into words. I know that was when this coward was born. That was the first time death came calling real close to home and I knew I couldn't do it again, I knew I didn't have it in me to go through that again cos really, you never fully recover from a goodbye and each time leaves you just a tad more vulnerable than the last. I learned to be selfish cos that's how best I know to survive. I've become the selfish one cos I failed at dealing with grief. I've put up the walls of indifference because I am the weakling who does not know how to be generous with grief; I take it all in, in full dozes, hoarding it all to myself. I'm quite like Humpty, who never quite gets put together again. So I decided never to know grief, never to say goodbye. Let someone else say the farewells, pick up the pieces, try to make them heal up in the right places. Let someone else live with that hole that never gets filled, relive sweet memories with the bitter taste of longing and wanting in their mouth. Yes, let someone else deal with it, someone else stronger, not a coward like me...

Alas, there have been many more after that: goodbyes at airports and train stations, goodbyes during the calls that never came, the ones that came in a lousy Skype message, the ones at the cemeteries...I said a lot of them this year, even though I swore to be the selfish one, even though I figured those doing the leaving had it easier. You don't know nothing about a broken heart if you're doing the breaking, you don't know squat about living without someone if you're doing the dying.  I've lost too many people along the way, and now I'm just wondering when the tables turned on my resolution, and I'm the one left to be the not-coward, picking up the pieces. I really wish there was a recipe for dealing with the loss of a loved one, just like I wish one could bottle happiness along with the jam.

Needless to say, I hate goodbyes, and I guess that for you to hate goodbyes, that must mean you love someone or something enough to not want to say goodbye to them. I said too many this year, especially the ones that really mattered, to loved ones who have passed on. Well, maybe it's not such a bad thing that with your passing, you took a part of me with you cause that means this cowardly heart loved you enough to be incomplete without you and that way, you'll always have your place in it, and maybe, just maybe my friend was right, and this isn't goodbye...

 ...with my love,

Fadeke Junaid, Mariam Adio, Uncle Derin, Gran (btw, I don't have another one stashed away somewhere), Dupe Wickliffe Lajubutu

Through 'My' Looking Glass Version 1.3

Read Version 1.2 here

Consciousness:  that annoying time between naps. 

~Author Unknown

It took me an extra thirty minutes to find a spot to park after getting to Ahmadu Bello way. When I finally got to the Galleria, I called Ayoade and he told me he was at the ticket stands. I didn’t get the chance to tell him I was in no mood for a movie, there was too much noise and I could hardly hear him. Thank God I was at least able to ascertain that I still had the real Ayoade and not the – what?! - Alter ego?! Have I mentioned that this is all crazy?! Well, now I’m saying it: crazy does not even begin to describe it!

The ground floor of the Galleria was a bee hive of activity and it looked like a party of sorts was going on. At first, I thought it was the monthly Salsa open-floor thingy but then I remembered that was held on Sunday evenings. There was music, as in loud music and the floor space was packed! The effect of the crowd was multiplied by the mirrors that had been placed around the usually open space forming a continuous wall. As soon as I stepped in, I lost all sense of direction and the entrance was lost in the crazy maze of reflecting walls. I wondered how they had managed to pull it off, I couldn’t even see the stairways that led up to the galleries! The crowd didn’t seem to mind one bit and the party raged on around me. Frantic, I called Ayoade again.

            “Where are you?! It’s crazy down here!”

            “Don’t worry, I can see you. Will be with you in a sec!”

I sincerely hoped he was seeing the real me and not one of the thousand reflections of me! After a few more minutes of being shoved around by the dancing bodies around me, I finally saw him waving to me across the room. I heaved a huge sigh of relief and inched my way towards him, not daring to lose sight of him for one second!

            “Sorry, ‘scuse me.” I said as I eased around a couple. Then I walked smack into a mirror! I have never been the graceful type and the force of the collision sent me sprawling into the couple behind me.

            “Sorry!” I gasped.

            “No worries. Are you alright?” the guy helped me up.

            “Yeah, thanks!”

I looked at the mirror in confusion. Ayoade was walking towards me, worry written all over his face. He was saying something but I couldn’t hear him above the noise. I spun away from the mirror and there he was coming towards me from across the room! Bloody reflections I muttered, heading off towards him. Then I caught a glimpse of him from my left and I swivelled instinctively. He wove as if to catch my attention and a dozen arms wove at me around the room. I stopped dead in my tracks and took a slow look around. Sure enough, there he was, still walking towards me from every possible corner of my mirrored hell.

            “Hey, pretty girl!”

I spun around. Where had his voice come from?! I pushed through the crowd frantically and stopped dead at another mirror. I headed in another direction. Dead end. Was I the only crazy one?! Didn’t anyone else feel weird about this place?!

            “I’m over here!”

I spun towards the voice and collided with another dancing couple.

            “Sorry! Excuse me.”

I finally came within touching distance of him but dunno, something made me hesitate. He smiled then and reached out a hand to me.

            “Come on, I’ve got something I want you to see!”

He sounded excited and it was infectious. I smiled back and for a split moment forgot all about the weirdness and madness. I reached for him and in that instant, I saw him. He stepped out of nowhere, as whack as that sounds. He wasn’t there, then he was, like he stepped through air and appeared. He smiled. He was excited as well, but obviously not in a good way. I saw them both, Ayoade and Ayoade, standing side by side, with the dazzling smile I had fallen in love with on both their faces, arms stretched towards me, then I crashed through the mirror.

            *                      *                      *                      *                      *                      *

It felt like a million needles pierced my skin and I screamed. No. That would be an understatement. I have no words to describe the sound that came from me. Every cell in my body screamed with me because the needles pierced every single one and the unearthly sound filled my ears, filled my head, my mind until I thought I would explode. At some point, my fingers brushed something and I grabbed on. Ayoade, I thought. His fingers entwined with mine and pulled me forward. Just when I thought I couldn’t possibly bear it anymore, it all ended abruptly and I crumpled to the ground. After the screaming, the quiet was soothing.

I heard voices and I pried my eyes open slowly. I was lying on the floor of a long, dark corridor. I didn’t take the time to process that information or wonder how on earth I had managed to get there because I saw Ayoade, one of him anyways, and a man I had never seen before disappear around the corner and I jumped to my feet and hurried after them. They seemed to be arguing about something and didn’t seem to notice my presence. I called out to Ayoade but he didn’t seem to hear me. After a while, they finally came to a door and stopped. I stopped as well and from what I could gather, the man wanted Ayoade to open the door but Ayoade was having none of that.

            “I’ll be done in no time.” The man said.

            “I already said no!” Ayoade replied.

            “You’ll have to sort through the mess at some point you know, clean it out!” the man persisted.

            “I said NO!”I flinched. I’d never heard Ayoade raise his voice at anyone that way before. Maybe this was the bad guy, the alter-ego, the evil twin!

            “Just let me…”

            “It’s none of your business!” Ayoade said turning away from the door. He started to walk back the way we had come and I called out to him, wondering what all that was about but he walked right through me! Yes. Right through me as in right through me, like I was a mist or ghost or whatever else you might call me! I gasped in shock but he didn’t even seem to have noticed a thing. Now, if that wasn’t enough to give me a heart attack, I don’t know what else will! I stared at my hand, half expecting it to disappear, telling myself for the umpteenth time that I was indeed crazy.

            “Really shocking, right?!”

And I would have had the second heart attack right then! I had totally forgotten about the man and even if I hadn’t, I didn’t expect him to see me too.

            “You’re wondering if this is real or if you’re crazy, huh?”

Oh God, if I ever wake up from this…

            “You bet this is all real.” He continued. “It is no dream, neither is it your imagination. It is your reality.” He finished calmly.

I just stared at him, knowing right there and then that I had gone stark raving mad.

Once Upon A Time...

I was having the most beautiful dream. I can’t remember the details now,I can’t even remember what it was about, but that hardly mattered. The important thing was the fact that it was a beautiful dream and that was all I cared about in that moment. I didn’t care about the fact that somewhere in the background was the shrill sound of the siren. Why ever is there a siren in this place? I didn’t even care that there seemed to be pokes digging into my ribs. I didn’t care that my feet were sticking out of the end of my bed. I didn’t care that there seemed to be a choir of mosquitos doing an acapella in my ears. All I cared about was this dream. Well, that was until Uwa rapped on the door with a net pole and the dream collapsed all around me.
           “All of you didn’t hear the siren abi?! On the count of 10, anyone still on their beds!”
I came awake and jumped down from my bunk in a fraction of a second, more from reflex than from any coherent or co-ordinated thought. Even after spending almost three months away from IJ, my instincts were still razor sharp. Boys no dey carry last! Some things just always stay a part of you no matter what!
          “You people think because you’re now wearing trousers, you can do any how abi?” Uwa was saying. “You have 1 hour to do your portions and get out of dorm, if not, you’re serving labour after school today!” he declared.
           “Omo, na die oh!” someone murmured
           “Opats mehn!” someone else said.
           “What was that?!” Onoks asked, coming into the dorm room behind Uwa.
The room went deadly quiet. You could have heard a pin drop.
           “You can’t talk now ehn?” Uwa said, thumping the pole he was holding in the palm of his other hand. No one breathed a word.
           “Oya, all of you clear!” Onoks said after a tensed moment that seemed to go on for ever. We all scattered as fast as we could.
           “Wow, what was that all about?” someone asked from behind me. I looked over my shoulder at him and smiled. The guy was one of the new students who had just joined our set. I’d seen him around over the weekend but hadn’t gotten around to talking to him yet.
           “Well, what can I say?” I shrugged. “Welcome to IJ!” He gave me a lost look and I laughed.
           “I hope we’re not in trouble.” He said still looking worried.
           “Nah, don’t worry, you’ll be fine.” I said.
I liked him immediately even though I hardly knew him. He was tall and stood a few inches above me, which was saying something, as I was one of the tallest guys in our set. He also spoke with a subtle accent, not like the fake phoné people sometimes tried to put on. I knew he must have been feeling overwhelmed with the way the morning was starting off, but well, that was IJ for you. I remembered my first few days here and in comparison, I think he was having it easy!
           “By the way, my name is Tunde, but everyone calls me Idahor.” I said smiling at him.
           “I’m Ukpong. I’m new here!” He replied returning my smile.
           “Ukpong? Where are you from? your accent sounds...”
           “Oh, we just moved here from Cuba.” He said.
           “Really! Welcome to Lagos then.”
           “Thank you!”
It was our first day as seniors. After spending over two months at home after JSCE, being back in IJ felt a bit weird. Add to that the fact that we were wearing trousers for the first time! Later on, we all stood awkwardly outside our dormitory, trying too hard not to look awkward. It felt strange seeing some of my guys in the greenish-grey trousers instead of seeing floppy socks hugging skinny ankles. If I hadn’t been feeling just as nervous as everyone else, I would have been having a good laugh! Some trousers were too long, some were too big, some were stiff from too much starch and ironing, some were staying up only because of belts lashed tightly around bony waists! Despite all that, it was with pride that we all marched on towards the dining hall. Students from other dorms stopped to gawp at us but we didn’t care. We held our heads high, some of us were even bouncing! We had arrived! We were finally Seniors!!!
Seniors or not, boys no dey slack! Before I could say jack, boys arranged the beans and loaf sharply! I was lucky not to get my spanking new white shirt stained with the beans. Imagine getting a dining-badge on the very first day of the term. Most of the girls didn’t show up for grub that morning. It was something about it being soooo not-cool to go for dining food too early in the term. Don’t ask me how a typical IJ girl’s mind works cos I’ll never understand it! Trust boys now, we arranged their part of the grub too. Ukpong was taking the whole thing in with an incredulous look on his face. Well, I thought, this is IJ! We left dining and then moved on towards the front of JS1 block where assembly was to take place. By then, I wasn’t feeling too self conscious of my new trousers anymore, especially when we mixed up with the other senior students and faded from the lime-light so to speak. I was deep in conversation with Ukpong, warning him about looking out for Moody and Shobogun when I first saw her. She was walking towards us with the most beautiful smile on her face. A part of my mind was wondering why she was smiling at me but I didn’t ponder the thought at that moment. She was pretty and petite and walked gracefully,  more like she was floating towards us. Her brand new skirt and shirt fit her petite frame perfectly and there was no awkwardness about her, no sir! She started to speak as she reached us and she had this sweet, sing-song voice that made me feel like I was dreaming again. Up close, I saw that she had these lovely dimples that made her smile even more beautiful. Snatches of my dream started to come back to me and then I started to remember.
                           Dear future me, today I met the girl you’re going to marry!
Then she threw her arms around my new friend and gave him a very big hug. My dream collapsed around me for the second time that morning!!!

          *                            *                      *                        *                      *                      *

I was having a day straight out of a horror movie. First thing I’d seen on my phone after turning off my alarm was a mail from Dr Quinn. He wanted my end of year report, in October! And he wanted a draft by 10 a.m. In the middle of October! He’d sent the mail at 3am in the morning, I mean, who on earth does that?! Silly question, Dr Quinn obviously does. The weather forecast had said to expect cool temperatures today but mehn, it was freezing! It seemed that like Dr Quinn, the weather thought it was December already. It's just October for crying out loud! And of course my boiler thought it was still June and decided not to work. Could the day get any worse? I really shouldn’t have asked that question!
One hour and one torturous cold shower later, I dashed out of my flat juggling my handbag and laptop bag in my hands. In that split second just before my door snapped shut, I realised I’d forgotten to transfer my keys from the pocket of the coat I usually wore to work to the winter coat I had on this morning. I stood there and stared at the closed door in horror and disbelief, like I was expecting the last two minutes of my life to rewind so I could edit them. Not only was I going to have to play phone-tag with the boiler company and all their recorded voices, I was also going to have to go to the housing council office and play face-tag with some grumpy and over-worked clerk in order to get a new set of keys. It also meant having to take the train today instead of driving in to work. Uggghhhhhhh!!!
I got to the station at a run, which was a feat even for a long distance runner like me. I had worn a pencil skirt and heels which I’d thought were super sharp this morning when I was getting dressed. If only I’d known! Just as I hobbled onto the platform, the train doors shut and the train pulled out of the station! I gritted my teeth really pissed. The schedule said the next train was due in 10 minutes and I sure didn’t have 10 minutes. So I decided to take a cab. Wrong choice. I paid a fortune to sit in one spot in rush-hour traffic! While fuming in the cab, I attempted to start working on the report on my laptop, but by then, I was too stressed out to think clearly, so I got close to nothing done. The cab finally made it to The Tower at about a quarter to nine. I hurriedly stuffed my laptop and scattered papers into the laptop bag and leaned over to pay the cab driver. I got out clumsily, with my bulky coat and super-sharp skirt and heels all getting in the way. I ran up the steps at the main entrance as fast as I could, already mentally calculating how...oh my God! My laptop!!! I swiveled on the spot, almost toppling down the steps, and watched as the cab pulled away! My mouth dropped open in horror, I’d left my laptop bag in the cab! It was like watching a very, very bad movie in slow-mo. I stood there in the cold, too dazed and numb to do anything. I wondered when my alarm would ring and I would wake up and realize this was all just a bad dream. Great! Add the cab company to my call list for today. Plus what was I going to do about Dr Quinn’s report?!
           “What happened to you?!” Beth asked as soon as I got into the office I shared with her.
           “You don’t want to know!” I said, sinking wearily into my chair.
           “That bad?” she asked. The look on my face answered her question.
           “Has Dr Q asked after me?” I asked.
           “Three times already!” she replied and I groaned.
I started up my desktop computer, wondering how on earth I was going to salvage the situation. Logging into my mailbox, I saw that I’d received 27 new mails since checking it on my phone this morning. 27! Dr Quinn was really going to kill me today! Then I realized each one was a facebook notification. Phew, was that a relief! Wondering what news was raging through facebook to warrant 27 notifications in one morning, I skimmed through the messages and I saw that someone had liked and commented on some of my pictures on facebook. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking, Dr Q is gonna kill me, but curiosity got the better of me and I clicked on the link to check it out on facebook. 9:05. Less than an hour before I faced Dr Q’s wrath. I didn’t recognize my stalker’s name, probably an alias or nickname. One of the things I didn't like about facebook, all the strange names. Funny enough, I wasn’t so pissed by it this time and I read my stalker’s comments on my pictures. 9:17. I clicked on my stalker’s profile and found that his dp was a landscape with a setting sun in the background. Shoot! Another thing I didn’t like about facebook, aliases without any photos to identify them by. My curiosity grew, just who are you anyway? He’d left me a message as well. Somewhere at the back of my mind was the thought that Dr Q could very well be standing right behind me, looking over my shoulders at my computer screen... I clicked on the message anyway.

Hi! It’s me, Tunde Idahor from IJ. Just thought to say hi and see how you’re doing.Your pics are lovely btw. Have a great day!

And for some reason that I couldn’t figure out right then, I suddenly felt better, like everything that had happened today didn’t matter at all.
           “Dr Q wants you!” Beth said poking her head through the door.
           “Thanks!” I said turning in my seat to smile up at her. She gave me a puzzled look. She was probably just as puzzled as I was by the transformation in my mood. I got up and squared my shoulders, ready to face Dr Quinn’s famous temper. Have a great day! I just knew with a certainty that I was going to do just that! :)

           *                      *                      *                      *                      *                      *

The party had started by the time they got there. There had been a lot of traffic on third mainland bridge and it had taken almost forever to get to the island! Despite that, and the blazing sun, she was still glad to be back in Lagos. She hadn’t realized just how much she’d missed it until she had returned. Ukpong’s friend was waiting for them in the parking lot of the restaurant when the cab dropped them off. She smiled as Ukpong made the introductions. His name was Roland and he’d organised a surprise engagement party for his and Ukpong’s friends and Ukpong had dragged her along. She noticed a few familiar faces and she went to catch up with them. There was quite a number of IJ peeps there and she wondered how come she didn’t know the couple when they had so many friends in common. Tunde was meant to arrive from Ghana early the next morning and she couldn’t help wishing he was there already! He would have loved the opportunity to see so many old friends. After a while, the music was turned down and Roland addressed the guests.
           “Thanks everyone for coming to make this occasion special for our friends. The Bride and Groom to-be will be arriving soon and by special request, we’re ushering them in in grand style! Please give it up for...” he paused for dramatic effect. “Bruno Mars!!!”
Nooooooooo way!!!!! She gasped in shock as Bruno Mars stepped out. You’ve gotta be kidding me!!! Cheers went up from the guests as he started to croon out a song. As in, seriously!!!
           “...and when you smile, the whole world stops and stares for awhile...”
Omo mehn, am I sure this isn’t Will and Kate’s wedding like this?!!! she thought amazed. She brought out her phone and tried to get a close-up shot of him. It isn’t everyday you get to see Bruno Mars perform right in front of you! As if he read her mind, he came right up to her and took her hand.
What! Not only do I get to see him live, I get to dance with him as well!!! The already excited guests went frantic and phones came out everywhere, snapping pictures, recording videos.
Wait till I tell Tunde all about this, I’m actually dancing with Bruno Mars! To think I almost didn’t come to this party!
They danced around the room and then he started to twirl her around.
           “...oh Baby, I think I wanna marry you...”
She twirled round and round, feeling proud of herself that she was dancing so gracefully, despite how really excited she was. When she finally stopped twirling, strong arms steadied her and she thought she was seeing things. Must be the dizziness from all that twirling!
            “Your flight isn’t until tomorrow morning!” She gasped and he simply smiled down at her.
            “You called me from Ghana less than an hour ago!” she said throwing her arms around him. “How...”
            “Well, I have my ways!” he replied hugging her back.
Wow! Today really is turning out great! She thought.
            “...oh Baby, I think I wanna marry you...” Bruno sang on.
            “What are you doing here?!” she asked. “Do you know the couple as well?”
He didn’t answer. He simply got down on one knee and a little box appeared out of nowhere. Her hands flew to her mouth as she stared at the intricate little ring. The beautiful diamond inlaid in it exploded in a million little shiny stars through the tears that clouded her eyes. Vaguely, she registered that the room had gone quiet around them and even Bruno had finally stopped singing. The guests gathered around them, waiting expectantly. Talk about a surprise engagement party! All their friends, Bruno Mars, this was the best surprise ever!!!
Dabbing at tears, she reached out a hand and took the ring from its perch in the box...



                      This entry is specially for my friends and ex-school mates, Affiong Eyo
                       and Tunde Idahor. I wish you guys every happiness!!! I think this song 
                       by Natasha Bedingfield is just perfect for you guys. Enjoy! ;)
                                                      Love Like This

Dreams are made of these

Sometimes, when life gets unbearable and I can’t seem to cope, I pick up my pen and write…or my lappie and type ;p…and for a few hours, sometimes days even, I forget and lose myself in dreams… I’m almost always happy when I’m writing, the exception being when I’m pouring out angry words and venting. Even then, I always feel better after I’ve vented, like writing down my angry thoughts are akin to bleeding poison from my veins. Writing about my feelings; whether I’m sad, confused, stressed, hurting, whatever the emotion, helps me deal with them better than talking does. Hmmmnnnn, I can imagine sitting across from a therapist, him behind his desk, trying to look all professional and serious, me reclining in a soft comfy chair with lots of cushions, my feet up, and the pair of us with our noses in our phones, sending texts back and forth! ;D There are stuff I have written that I know I might never ever read, but writing them down has taken them from me, like a parishioner shedding her weight of guilt to the priest. They’re not my weight to bear any longer, I’m absolved of them. Some poor pass-worded word document is saddled with that responsibility now! Writing is my therapy. I wonder how I would have coped, where, if anywhere, I would be now without it and I bless God for giving me it. I know sometimes it can drive me up the wall, like the times when the little mad man upstairs goes crazy and Tipsy is feeling lazy ;p or those awful times when I get a block! :’(. But really, I’ll be eternally grateful for it.

With my writing, I can bring to life loads of people I’ll never meet in real life, go places I’ve never been! I can delve into minds I create, unwrap the mysteries of imaginary lives! It’s better than reading fairy tales, it’s like living so many interesting people’s lives, you can laugh with them, cry with them, love with them, bring them to life. With my writing, I empty myself of the burdens, take on the good. Sometimes, I find it easier to write my Father letters when I seem unable to pray. With it, I can worship in ways that my heart can’t even put to words…

Some of my friends call me mad (I even had a relationship end cos my scrawlings were a tad too much for him to bear, or maybe that was just the mad-me!) and sometimes, even I read some of my stuff and think OK, babe how far now?! But I’ll rather be a mad writer than a sane woman with no outlet for the mad! ;p