Repeating Chapters

I’ve been trying to write a little bit more (🤫) so there may be extra blog posts for a while. When I was a teenager I had a diary in paper form that went everywhere with me, and then an online diary. Some people who still follow me, know me from back then. How exceptionally embarrassing, and how much of a full-loop they must be experiencing HAHA.

The loop is from the repeating characters and the same themes swishing around. It’s been amusing to go back and revisit some of my old stories and poems to realise, I’m pretty much the same person 20+ years later. Amusing perhaps isn’t the right word…

When I was 17 or 18 a boy told his friends that I had sex with him at a birthday party. I found out from one of my closest friends a few weeks later. I laughed! WHAT A SILLY STORY. No one would believe that. Why would anyone believe that about me? Turned out, they did. The week prior 3 boys were acting strange at a sleepover, and now I had the information to realise it was because they thought I was a sex demon.

ME - A SEX DEMON? WHAT FUN!?! Honestly - I laughed. My sweet friend (Clare) was more concerned. She didn’t appreciate they were spreading lies about her friend. But they didn’t really believe it, right? She wasn’t so sure. I thought I could clear this confusion up quickly. A misunderstanding - just needs a little chatteroo.

So I spoke to the original boy, who I was relatively sure only paid any attention to me because I had just dated/broken up with his older brothers house mate.. and i’d tried to write my phone number in pizza shapes on his bedroom floor because he told me he didn’t have a pen… ANYWAY, so my reputation was starting to build legs. Pizza-Shape-wielding, Midori-drinking, 69-er sex demon, tent fucker…

… so I called him. “Hey, how are you?” “Yeah good, I’m going to be in Sydney soon, will you be going to xxx..” “ANYWAY, so I heard that some of the boys think that we had sex in the tent at Clare’s party. Why would they think that?” “Oh you’re not sure, but - yeah so they do.” “Yeah that is strange”. “So maybe you could just tell them the truth so there is no strangeness”. “Oh they just assumed, and you didn’t correct them? Maybe just - correct them” . “You can’t?” “It’s too embarassing? But what about me? It literally didn’t happen. You want me to lie about it?”

THEN began an era. The chapter which loops.

When I think honesty is so obvious and easy - some dude decides his alternate universe where I am some character in his play with ensemble cast begins.

I spoke to that boy - almost every day, for YEARS after that. His father had a car shop around the corner from my house in Alexandria near the city. He’d tell me he occasionally see me walking down the street, but I never saw him.. I just got that feeling, often, that I was being watched.

I don’t think he ever corrected his friends. I think at some point they stopped hanging out. He told me about his girlfriends, I told him about my boyfriends, bands, uni, life. He would call me to listen to me talk - he told me he needed to so he could fall asleep. I hated that.

I’m not going to tell all of this story - or how it ends, because obviously it looped in and around several others.. and to be fair, the ending is kind of a banger. BUT I think the ending to all of these stories is one and the same.

I stopped bending the truth for them, and that’s fucking terrifying.

The misnomer in many of these circumstances is that the show can continue without the supporting cast, but - can it? When the plot line is so interesting, when somewhere along the way - you started to give away some of the writing to actors to ad-lib, and hey - they’re pretty good at it.

What’s does the show even look like without the cast?

WELL my friends, if there is anything I feel compelled to do with frequency - it’s to show you. To close the book.

And then to write a new story. From scratch.

… But is it ever a new story.. or just another repeating chapter?

Fuck you.

Peta Credlin is still a troll.

Love you.
x V