Some days you just need to hide. To curl up on the sofa, blank your mind off to the phone and the doorbell and sit in a little pit of despair. There’s no reason or rhyme as to why the depression sets in, rather, I tend to get these dark holes of wallowing when everything is going well. The optimism in me seems to set off a chain reaction which eventually backfires leaving me black and morbid with a sense of un-achievement, a feeling that though I have all these great plans they’ll never come to fruition so what’s the point, I should resign myself to the fact that this is life. 

Some brains are strange, mine is stranger. I’ve just watched in awe as Federer and Nadal played one of the most exhilarating Wimbledon finals that there has ever been. I find it hard not to get emotionally involved with the players, you watch their highs and lows as they fight for the championship, and I found it difficult not to connect with Nadal. The pain he would feel losing the match, especially after being 2 sets to love to Federer, I’m sure would be unbearable. I got the result I wanted, I sat, a grin on my face as he ran teary eyed around the court, I felt really happy. And then, as always happens with me, I slipped into this downward spiral. 

I don’t know why but I can’t bear it when something that I’m emotionally involved and attached too ends. Of course its sad, it’s the end of an era, I sobbed as Six Feet Under finished and was left in misery for days, the death of Heath Ledger nearly sent me over the edge and now, when the outcome of the match was something that I truly wanted, rather than feel jubilant, that I want to party and shout from the window, all I can feel is sorrow for the fact its over. I’m sure this isn’t normal. Is it some deep seated subconscious block to try and stop me from feeling pain? For perhaps the misery I feel now is in fact less than if I strived towards a goal and then failed? Inspiration is the key to life, it sends you on goals, makes you get up and go, so if I feel inspired after watching these things and then fall into a pit of despair is it simply my brain reacting to the inspiration which could prove more detrimental in the long term? Or perhaps it’s just lack of sleep and too many cocktails last night? 

Though it’s still raining outside, it’s bloody pouring inside.

The rain is pouring here, blustering and bouncing in the wind. Recovered from last night’s embarrassment I’m looking at the rain running down the window and thinking about Nik’s admittance. Never having been in love myself it is something that I find hard to comprehend, I have never experienced that power that I assume love must have. For Nik to admit that she still loves her first ever sweetheart is not only one of the most romantic things but also a test to true and pure love. To go through life, to move on, have other partners, new jobs, houses, experiences and then, at the end of it all, to realise that your love for that very first partner is still there, pounding in your heart, haunting your dreams, now that is love. 

She deals with it so well and with such dignity. I can imagine myself, a decrepid depressed mess at the seemingly fruitless outcome of it all. Not able to get over that my first love has been lost and may never be regained. When it comes to relationships I am a slight emotional wreck. I’m so distant, so anti relationships but actually put me in one and I’m falling down that slippery slope within mere days. It only takes a one night stand and by the morning I’m planning a future, marriage, much to the horror of the voices in my head that are screaming for me to stop! Why is my heart so intent on causing pain?! Or, perhaps, has it been lonely for so long that it simply can’t help but reach out for the slightest, vaguest, glimmer of hope? 

But somehow Nik manages to retain the feeling of love, the feeling of a crush and ride that happy wave, channelling the good feeling without being bogged down by the whole emotional enormity of it all – now that is truly commendable. Being the nature of life he’ll probably meet someone else, she’ll meet someone else, get married, have kids and 30 years later, when life really has passed them by, they’ll rekindle their love in a cringe worthy, sordid affair. She laughs at the awfulness of that situation, knowing that the one way to stop this is to confront the situation now, but that is much more easily said after 2 jugs of cocktails in a London bar many miles from the beachy coast that her love resides on. But for Nik, being the eternal optimist and believer in love, could this turn out to be a happy ending?