Weighing

Seems as if my migranes finally have a semi-reasonable explanation. I am in need of glasses. Yes. It is quite shocking though I'm pretty sure I can pull off the look without any problem. I'll look quite dashing either way.

Trying to avoid thinking about what I am supposed to be thinking isn't working for me. I am loosing my senses, I want to distract myself with noise or do things I've been postponing. For example, arranging my books in alphabetical order, colour-coordinate my closet, tend to my poison garden, along with a few other miscellanous activities.

As that song says, sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same. The hardest thing for me right now is being able to think properly. I don't want to think. I am afraid of the conclusions I might reach; conclusions that might shake the very foundation of my being. And caused by something so stupid. A petty fight that basically opened a can of worms.

Now, I am not one with a flair for the dramatic, I actually criticize the behaviour. I don't bother with the theatrical, over-the-top expression of 'feelings'. I do not like overthinking or exaggerating the problem. What I am going through is not a problem. It's... an epiphany of sorts.

I do not know what kind of moral values I have at this point, which is baffling to me. I thought I was this certain way. I thought I wouldn't engage in any sort of involvement whilst I was in a serious relationship... Allow me to rephrase that in a more realistic sense, I wouldn't engage in any liaison that would last more than a few weeks. While it is true that my relationship with Philippa is nothing as it once was, and that by no means is an excuse, I still feel great care and esteem towards her.

Because, let's be honest. We are involved in some way. Even if it doesn't have a name. We are involved. To be honest, I didn't think it would last. She just got out of a very traumatizing relationship, she despised anything that was remotely British, and she had a foul temper. However she was very attractive, fun to tease and... experienced in the bedroom.

I am not someone who likes to divulge sensitive information in a careless manner, so don't be surprised. I do have some dignity left. I do not feel comfortable talking about this. I feel I still need to think, reflect and mull over. My options, my choices, my course of action. Though I am 99.9% sure of what I have to do and what I will do in the end. It's that 00.1% of doubt that concerns me.

I am not a man of whim.

Evolving into migranes

I am experiencing of one of the largest, most vicious headaches in human history. It's not even funny the amount of pain and discomfort that I'm feeling. Must be a migrane.

It doesn't help in the least when I receive a call from her; weeping, feeling all morose and lonely. It kills me. I wish I could be there with her, well aware that she's crying for idiotic reasons (knowing her) but I can't be there to comfort her or even call her off for being such a melodramatic queen. I am here. I am stuck in London. And for one bloody minute I wish I could stop thinking (and cursing as well).

You can't stop me. I'm going for it. Me and Mr. Bourbon, reunited once more.

What a truly pathetic existence.

Bittersweet Argument

I must be thankful for my reflexes and I am. I really I am.

I held Philippa's hand in mid-air as she was getting ready to slap me in the face. I am one of those blokes that is awfully respectful of one's face, it's sacred which means completely off-limits. I gave her a leveling stare, my displeasure quite evident which was all it took for her to recover her wits.

"What is this about a rendez-vous you had in Vienna?" She was rather acid but calmer than what she would've been had she struck me.

"A small birthday get-together in case we're putting labels on things."

"Oh don't be smart with me Christian, I am in no mood!"

"Well, I suggest you relax yourself for I am not about to deal with a hysteric."

"Why wasn't I invited?"

"I wasn't in charge of the guest list," which is the truth mind you.

She took that into consideration it seemed as she continued with her tirade.

"Then why didn't your little friend" insert sufficient venom here "invite me?! She knows I exist, I assume"

"Yes, she knows and why she chose not to tell you is beyond me at this point. And lower your voice, I have a horrid headache."

She threw her purse in my bed, along with her coat then crossed her arms and stared at me. I remained quite comfortable in my chair, rubbing my temple absentmindedly.

"Christian... we've been together for over two--"

"I'm well aware of our time together"

"--good. My point is, why on earth didn't you bother to call me and inform me that this was taking place? And since when is this woman so important in your life--"

"Please Philippa. You're overreacting. She's just a friend."

She looked dumbfounded. "Overreacting? Christian Dominic, this woman threw you a party, didn't invite ME yet invited your close friends that she barely even knows. It's on purpose!"

I remained silent, looking at her.

"And God knows how many times I called you! And you didn't even answer your bloody mobile! You know how embarrassing it is for me to call your parents--"

"You called my parents?" I was surprised, a bit vexed by the notion also.

"T-To see if they knew where to locate you! But I was transferred to their secretary which then transferred me to yours! It's ridiculous the amount of secretaries you people have!"

...

"Why were you avoiding me Christian?" She managed to ask after a while. "I'm inclined to believe this girl is not only a FRIEND you know."

"I was in a business trip Philippa."

"That is not an answer to my question. I don't want you to see her again."

I quirked my eyebrow. "You're jesting, yes?"

"No! I do not want you talking to this senseless cow--"

"She is hardly a cow."

She gasped in outrage.

"So she's attractive too?!"

I did not see that coming and I should've. I was careless.

"I'm not going to stop seeing her Philippa. She is my friend. She just got out of a serious relationship and she's not interested in me in that way. You're just paranoid."

For some reason, after I said that, I felt I was lying not only to her but to myself.

"If you have any respect for this relationship, you will not attempt to see her again. For if you do--"

I laughed in spite of myself. "You are forbidding me to see my friend?"

"It will be a deliberate insult against my dignity and integrity. Not to say what it will do to your own sense of morality and ethics."

I was tempted to answer that I could care less for her dignity and her integrity but I found my silence to be more prudent. I could see she was holding in some tears, the mere act of standing before me and confronting me was taking a toll on her pride. Without anything else to say, she gathered her things and left. I sighed. I do not remember engaging in a longer, more painstaking conversation in all of my life with Philippa. I was rather weary of the direction it took. Yet my mind was elsewhere, with someone else. The core reason of why I was arguing lingered in my mind like an after-taste.

Bittersweet.

Hungover

Good grief, I never realized how loud Eleanor is until she woke me up just now. After I've had a busy night with the Scotch courtesy of a good friend; a high-pitched squeal is anything but welcomed. I can't even remember why I was drinking as much in the first place. I'm trying to think and no... no good. It hurts to even ponder at this point. It's even harder when Eleanor is pulling my arm and telling me to get dressed already that Philippa is waiting for me in the foyer.

Philippa... here... did I tell her to come by?

I remember the phone ringing. I remember I ignored the phone. I remember debating whether or not I should go to sleep. I also remember, vaguely, various messages in my credenza left by my secretary, most of them labeled urgent and Philippa written in big block letters.

So you could say this moment has been forewarned in more ways than one, and I've disregarded each and everyone of them. I can pretty much imagine what this might be about but I'm feeling rather lethargic at the moment, and my interest in this and it's dealings is practically zero.

The door just flew open. Eleanor promptly left my side, after what I can imagine was a long staring match between her and Philippa (whom else would it be?). She is tapping my shoulder right now. I suppose this means it's time to turn around.

Messages at 3 AM

I have a message from Philippa on my mobile. I have no idea why and apparently it's not the only one. I'm sorry it's messages. Good grief. Has she gone mad? I'm exhausted but I can't sleep in my laughable attempt to contact Caterina. Suits me well for being so bloody desperate. I wonder, is this some strange irony that is playing right before my very intoxicated therefore oblivious eyes?

I should go to bed.

I should.