Weepy Wednesdays

About six months ago we started a tradition, a sort of pre-menstrual/bad-day cure where a group of us would go to the cinema on an Orange Wednesday discount to watch a chick flick. We'd buy obscene amounts of food before hand and carry at least two packs of tissues in our handbags. Our first film was 'Dear John' which provided the necessary catharsis, 3 out of the 4 sobbed throughout the entire film and I came out of the cinema with soggy hair. The ritual continued with films such as 'The Last Song' which made us cringe with it's tacky romantic plotline then cry incessantly because the ending was so sad. Then there was Sex and the City 2, the cinema was packed and we'd really outdone ourselves on the food front, again the story sucked but we had a great time. Our last Weepy Wednesday wasn't actually on a Wednesday, we broke the rules and paid extortionate prices to see a preview of Eclipse on a Saturday evening. It broke our banks and it wasn't even good! Little did I know that it would be one of my last precious moments with my dear friend Annie.

This evening was our first Weepy Wednesday since her death. We saw Eat, Pray, Love - it was pretty good, not anywhere near as brilliant as the book, but it wasn't awful. She was on my mind the whole time. In fact, she's been on my mind a lot this week. All her old clothes have been worn and washed with my fabric conditioner so they no longer smell like her, now they're packed in my suitcase ready for Bristol, all the photos have become so familiar and static - poor substitutes for the real thing. I stare at them for ages just wanting to feel something, to feel close to her again. The other night whilst I was on the way home from London, I had such an urge to talk to her. I would always tell her about London, describe every detail of my evening, tell her how desperately I wanted to be on the stage and she'd always be interested, she'd always tell me I was born to be an actress. So I decided to text her, I pulled out my phone and sent her a message knowing full well she would never receive it. Yet for one small moment I expected a reply, the universe shifted for a second and it was like old times, like she was still here, still alive and it made me smile. I sat there on the 11:30 bus to Mortlake grinning like a loon because I felt connected with my dead friend. I guess tonight it's the same. The whole evening has been glazed with her presence and whilst it's comforting to be reminded of her, it makes me miss her terribly. Tonight marked a new series of Weepy Wednesdays and whilst it'll never be the same, they will still serve their purpose. Girls will always need to cry, eat and watch cheap movies on Wednesday evening no matter what situation they find themselves in.

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