I had started thinking. Granted; I was going on 3 hours sleep in the last 48 hours, possibly more-I had lost track. It had been a whirlwind of alcohol, Cigarettes, stress, locating various pairs of heels and dresses, long limbs, vast amounts of hairspray and other things. I could hazard a guess that thinking, in any way, about anything, was not an ideal option now. Sleep would have been; but the 2 americano’s from Plug and the redbulls from Parade said that wasn’t an option. Deluded, I may have been; but I was ecstatic, buzzing, hysterical and low all at once. It was like a fear was living inside; surfacing like it does after any fashion event. The previous night had been awesome, positively fabulous, and fun.. The fact that we spent the entire time intoxicated with white wine meant the memories were slightly hazy. Once more, the past circled around; or perhaps ‘surfaced’ would have been a better word. It was always there, I knew that. It could be called an insecurity; or just a fear; I couldn’t really say. Back in the day, not even Marilyn, the councillor, could tell me. I had gone to her young and immature, for answers; hoping she would be able to give me some kind of information on myself and my mind, something that would let me sleep; rather than remain an insomniac. Instead, she resembled some kind of bathroom sponge, merely absorbing everything; just sitting and looking at me. The patronising nature of the whole thing; the way she looked at you in that chair like you were some kind of victim merely made matters worse. Girls go to her because they’re refusing to let their eating issues stop them from being alive; it’s an expression of the fighting spirit within them; by sitting in her ‘victimising’ chair they are refusing to be victims. That’s the other side of the coin. My guess is she has never been in the other chair of her office, and so this is unknown to her. Her sprit, on the other hand has the power to reduce them to tears in seconds; it overcomes them and takes them back to being weak. The box of Kleenex on the table in-between the two of you is enough to set anyone, even remotely fragile, off. Maybe it was a personal thing; it just wasn’t for me. Perhaps I wasn’t strong at all; perhaps my spirit was so weak and my mind so complex that I was too defensive. Who knows. She didn’t, and I still don’t. Besides; I never did what she asked. I never cut him out of my life, although she said and I knew I had to, and I was still struggling to do it now. A friend I used to know once said to me “The only way to get over someone is to find someone else.” We had been 14. You felt so grown-up; the thought of GCSE’s scared you. Now we were in our fresher year; and we no longer spoke. (Thank God-if that memorable comment was anything to go by, she talks bullshit.) A lot had happened. A booze-cruise in the summer; (when we were 14-I would never let any child of mine do that. I haven’t forgiven my parents for their overly liberal take on parenting), a lot of kissing boys (and men), a couple of pregnancy tests, the loosing of virginities and innocence, and one major fight. As per norm (well, subsequently it turned out that way) she had slept with my boyfriend. She was the first, but by no means the last. The past was messy; and if I wanted to, I could tell you that the reason I carried on fighting for him was because my spirit was so strong-I refused, point blank, to let her win. I never loose at anything, ever. I may not win, but there’s no way il loose; not in front of anyone anyway. (The real friends who stood by me through her stupidity think I’m deluded when I say that; and give me a sympathetic rub on my arm) And I refused, after that, to let any of my other so called ‘friends’ win, either. I had let him win, with both a good few of my sexier girlfriends and myself, on every occasion. I had always taken him back; put him back into my ‘circle of trust’, whilst I always cut them right out, sitting them on a back bench of the world. I don’t really believe in regret, or maybe I’m just naïve. Its not as if I can say I’ve never made a decision I should regret; I have, many times. Regret doesn’t agree with me; I don’t understand its purpose. Is it just there to make you feel bad? To question yourself? I do that anyway. And I expect other people do aswell; I don’t need regret to help or force me to do that. One good quality of regret is that it should help you learn from your mistakes; not to make them twice. I had made the same ones over and over now, for years. Its like in those Science evaluations you had to do at secondary school; those simple evaluation sheets after an experiment; the last question was always “If you had to do this again, would you do anything differently and how?” Maybe I’m alone with this thought; but if I had to fill one out on my life since 14; Id say Id do it all again. Exactly the same and wouldn’t change a thing. My Dad always calls me a pessimist; but he’s wrong when it comes to this. It has been a learning curve; a process of elimination as far as friendship is concerned. If I knew someone who was going through anything similar; I would ask them now if they would treat someone how they’re being treated. It was something I was always too weak to ask those around me at the time; and something I was too scared to ask myself. It was all that should have been said, and the answer should have been the only thing listened to. The 12 weeks of talking didn’t need to be listened to by Marilyn the councillor. My circle was corrupt; yet I never removed myself. If someone is strong enough to answer and tell you that the hurt (and insomnia in my case) is not worth the friends (or the love) that its costing them; there is no point in them being weakened by sitting in the chair of a victim in the office of a nice woman like Marilyn. If they can tell you that no, its not worth it, not really, underneath, they should just move circles; cut off the offenders and the ones who cause hurt; be it for whatever reason, whatever situation It’s the ones who wouldn’t see Marilyn that can be brought up by the victim chair. Ironic. Because they’re the ones who would never, and possibly will never, sit in it. I left the Kleenex in the box on the table for you.