The most important item on my list
Oh wow, I have a LiveJournal? Huh.
So yeah - not been updating here because... actually I don't have a reason. I'm lazy. I procrastinate. Show me something shiny (like my Tumblr account) and I totally forget that I'm supposed to be in a committed relationship with LJ. Or something like that.
But this is post worthy.
As part of my "30 before 30" list, there has been one thing on there that has been so important to me. As a result it was the one that I was the most nervous about!
20 - get a tattoo
I think anyone who knows me well enough knows about Diane. We went to school together, we were friends all the way through our GCSEs and A Levels. She saved my sanity in A Level Maths more times than I can remember and she had such a gift for comedy and witty comments. She was kind and friendly and everything you could ever want to have in someone, let alone someone you got to call a friend.
We all parted for Uni September 2000 and we all promised to go out for drinks when we got back at Christmas. Diane and I texted each other on our birthdays : mine on 6 October, hers on 7 October. 19 years old, away from home, living it up. Diane was going ice skating with her Uni mates to celebrate and I laughed 'cause I was planning on doing the same.
I didn't go. Fresher's Flu took over and we were all so ill that weekend we never left the accommodation block. Diane did go.
While skating she fell and cut herself. Nothing serious, nothing anyone thought anything of. But it got infected and septicemia set in. In a nice, healthy person this may not have been such a big deal, but I'd been struck down with Fresher's Flu and Diane was in the early stages when she went ice skating. As such she was weak and the infection ran rampant through her body. Throw in a bunch of complications and other stuff that I'm not fully aware of, and you have a 19 year old girl dying of liver failure on 9 November 2000.
Some of our group knew. I didn't. First I knew was when I got a phonecall on Friday 10 November. I remember it so, so clearly. We were in the Union at our usual Friday night karaoke bash. My phone started ringing and I was thrilled to see it was my friend Annalise calling. I answered, told her to wait until I got somewhere a bit quieter (which was actually just outside the toilets). I asked how she was and she was trying so hard not to cry. "Diane's dead" was all she could say.
Rest of the night was a blur, the funeral was horrific and numbing, and it kicked off a multitude of issues for me. But since then it has been the shadow that's followed me around. I think that because we were the same age, because our birthdays were a day apart and we celebrated our 18ths together, it's really stuck me how young she was to die.
Now I've toyed with the idea of getting a tattoo for a long time, but I knew that if/when I got one it would have to mean something. So when I made my list for this year it made sense for me to do something for Diane. I have a band on my left wrist which I put on for her fifth anniversary and it's not come off since. This tattoo would be for her, about her, something more permanent. After a bit of thought I came up with three letters.
LTS.
Life's Too Short.
Diane would have been 30 this year. All the things that she never got to do or experience because of a domino effect of infections and complications and conditions, all the moments she never got to have. Life is far too short for most of us but especially so for her. Every day I live is a day she never got. Every moment I have is a moment she didn't. I'm not just one day older than her now, I'm almost 11 years older and what I try to cling to when I'm feeling down about things is that some people don't get these chances, these moments, this life. And we need to make the most of it.
My dad hates tattoos so god only knows what he and Mum are going to say about it when I come home with it on my wrist. But I don't care because this is important. This means something and I will have it with me for the rest of my life - a reminder that life is worth it.
So yeah - not been updating here because... actually I don't have a reason. I'm lazy. I procrastinate. Show me something shiny (like my Tumblr account) and I totally forget that I'm supposed to be in a committed relationship with LJ. Or something like that.
But this is post worthy.
As part of my "30 before 30" list, there has been one thing on there that has been so important to me. As a result it was the one that I was the most nervous about!
20 - get a tattoo
I think anyone who knows me well enough knows about Diane. We went to school together, we were friends all the way through our GCSEs and A Levels. She saved my sanity in A Level Maths more times than I can remember and she had such a gift for comedy and witty comments. She was kind and friendly and everything you could ever want to have in someone, let alone someone you got to call a friend.
We all parted for Uni September 2000 and we all promised to go out for drinks when we got back at Christmas. Diane and I texted each other on our birthdays : mine on 6 October, hers on 7 October. 19 years old, away from home, living it up. Diane was going ice skating with her Uni mates to celebrate and I laughed 'cause I was planning on doing the same.
I didn't go. Fresher's Flu took over and we were all so ill that weekend we never left the accommodation block. Diane did go.
While skating she fell and cut herself. Nothing serious, nothing anyone thought anything of. But it got infected and septicemia set in. In a nice, healthy person this may not have been such a big deal, but I'd been struck down with Fresher's Flu and Diane was in the early stages when she went ice skating. As such she was weak and the infection ran rampant through her body. Throw in a bunch of complications and other stuff that I'm not fully aware of, and you have a 19 year old girl dying of liver failure on 9 November 2000.
Some of our group knew. I didn't. First I knew was when I got a phonecall on Friday 10 November. I remember it so, so clearly. We were in the Union at our usual Friday night karaoke bash. My phone started ringing and I was thrilled to see it was my friend Annalise calling. I answered, told her to wait until I got somewhere a bit quieter (which was actually just outside the toilets). I asked how she was and she was trying so hard not to cry. "Diane's dead" was all she could say.
Rest of the night was a blur, the funeral was horrific and numbing, and it kicked off a multitude of issues for me. But since then it has been the shadow that's followed me around. I think that because we were the same age, because our birthdays were a day apart and we celebrated our 18ths together, it's really stuck me how young she was to die.
Now I've toyed with the idea of getting a tattoo for a long time, but I knew that if/when I got one it would have to mean something. So when I made my list for this year it made sense for me to do something for Diane. I have a band on my left wrist which I put on for her fifth anniversary and it's not come off since. This tattoo would be for her, about her, something more permanent. After a bit of thought I came up with three letters.
LTS.
Life's Too Short.
Diane would have been 30 this year. All the things that she never got to do or experience because of a domino effect of infections and complications and conditions, all the moments she never got to have. Life is far too short for most of us but especially so for her. Every day I live is a day she never got. Every moment I have is a moment she didn't. I'm not just one day older than her now, I'm almost 11 years older and what I try to cling to when I'm feeling down about things is that some people don't get these chances, these moments, this life. And we need to make the most of it.
My dad hates tattoos so god only knows what he and Mum are going to say about it when I come home with it on my wrist. But I don't care because this is important. This means something and I will have it with me for the rest of my life - a reminder that life is worth it.