Searching for Answers to a Question Unasked

I'm so stressed out lately, I can't concentrate for toffee.

Why am I stressed? Well, apart from the lack of job, lack of money, lack of direction and lack of hope for the future... it's mostly this fear that anything/everything I do is imminently going to start a fight/argument.

It's as if I'm in this paradoxical world where everything I do is both right and wrong at the same time. Oh wait - that's the real world anyway. The only thing that makes anything right or wrong is who is judging it. I feel constantly judged lately... and it's never a good out come.
And then during the arguments I find myself biting my tongue constantly... so there's actually all this stuff left unsaid. Stuff that would really hurt. Stuff that's just... not nice to say. Stuff that, honestly, probably isn't 60% (let alone 100%) true. Yet it's still there, and leaving it unsaid seems to give it more power some how.

All I think about is all the things I know could start a fight, all the stuff that I want to say but wont. All the 'fuck you's' I think of get stuck somewhere in my head, and I just can't think straight enough to concentrate on my research, or anything else for that matter. I just float around in my head thinking "what if" wishing for something better. It's driving me insane.

I've let myself drop off the face of the earth again too. Barely talking to people, hardly ever texting back or messaging friends. I just can't deal with the social interaction.
Like I say - that would be alright, if I could just concentrate - or work out a solution to the problems at hand.

I keep thinking they're resolved - then the reappear... it's like - wtf? tenacious little bastards...

Being wiccan, I should have time to meditate about this... but how do you make time to meditate when there's always someone there with you, wanting to do other stuff, or playing loud music/games?
As a student, I'm supposed to have somewhere to study quietly... but for that I have to travel an hour on the half on the trains, then walk for half hour. It's a pain in the ass. 50 hours of studying a week is virtually impossible. at least when you have no where to do it.

I'm looking forward to next year. We were supposed to move up to be by my uni this year... but things happened, and now it looks as though we wont manage it till next year. Hopefully in January. Starting to give up hope on even doing that if I'm honest. Just so fed up of plans falling through and everything going wrong. Feels like that's all that happens lately.

Just worn out I guess. Like my clothes, and phone, and laptop, and mp3player.... I'm surprised anything works! It's all so old now that it just wants to fall apart. Even my phone, which is only a year old!! How uncool is that?? A year and it's already falling apart... not physically as in parts dropping off; but it messes up on sending texts and stuff, sometimes the touch screen decides to stop working - especially likes doing that when receiving calls... and yeah, I have to use the screen to answer... fecking thing.

Meh, this has just been a rant about feeling poop. Sorry for the down note.

On the up beat - it's nearly Christmas/Yule, a time of giving and peace and taking stock of things. A time of death [Yr] and changes. At this time of year the God, who has already impregnated the Goddess in Autumn, dies and is accepted back into the earth, ready to reborn again in spring. Interesting that in Christianity this is a time of birth, while Easter is a time of death... and rebirth... confusing if you ask me. Ostara makes far more sense considering the actions following the seasons.
Anyway - point is Yule is a time of death, a time to give up bad habits and bad feelings. It's a time to let go of all the horrid stuff in life and embrace the good, warm fuzziness, in order to make it through the rest of the harsh winter months. Odd how a time of death is also a time of joy in Pagan belief. Joy of moving on, of the wheel turning...

Yeah, I'm getting back into my religion again.  I never really make enough time for it, but it's something that keeps me balanced. Sometimes I wonder if the reason my best friend keeps me so balanced is because he's such a strong witch too... I miss him. We're only a couple hours away by train - but it still means I don't get to see him much. I've often felt he was the only person who ever really understood me, and having him so far away ... well, just plain sucks.

Oh well.

Remember, Yule is about letting go, and that the time of new beginnings is close at hand.
Cherish what you have, love all you can, let go of pain, forgive your fellow man - especially those you feel you can't forgive. Letting go of your anger or hurt over a situation, action, or person is one of the most rewarding things you can do. It lets you see with fresh eyes, and deal with things in a way you can't when you're clouded with guilt, hurt, anger...

So yeah - if I could give advice today, it would be this:

Let go.

And since one of my favourite (if odd) songs is entitled 'Let go', I thought I'd share it with you!

As always,


Blessed be xx

Guess who's back

Haven't had chance to write here for so long. I miss rambling at you random people stumbling across a blog so badly riddled with spelling mistakes and lack of proof reading that you can't decide whether to read on or not.

I haven't had chance to write in so long because I've lately gotten into a pretty full on relationship.
We spend so much time together (what with us both living in my parents spare bedroom) that I never get chance to sit down and ramble.

The thing is, lately it feels like all we do is argue.
The words "Whatever", "Fine", and "What?" have never been able to spark a fight so quickly in my life. Hell, even a look can set us off lately. "Why are you looking at me like that?" or "Stop looking so miserable." even something as silly as "What's that look for?" start these huge epic rap battles of history... without the rapping or the historical figures. They call this part of the relationship "Storming". Where you argue to discover your limits and the limits of the relationship. Where you push each other till you find out where the other person is going to say "STOP!!!!"

The thing is, you start to hurt each other so much. You say something without realising it's hurt a person, or something get's said to them that kicks off a line of thought that you play on without realising, and then they hurt you back and you don't know why - so you lash out back. It's this viscous cycle, and you have to sit down and talk like civilised people and work out where all the hurtful things come from.
And we do - we argue, yell, get so mad that we nearly break up, then start to talk, sit down and discuss everything for hours, make up... then in the morning it all seems to start over again.
The problem I think we're experiencing is that we talk about what's wrong, but never do anything to fix it Long Term. So the issues keep coming up - just in these little variations. It all comes down to the same problems.
I wonder to myself a lot of the time whether all relationships are like this, or whether people who keep arguing just haven't talked about what's wrong or find some new problem.

I keep thinking to myself "I would never have this problem with...." but then I can't really think of someone to put in there. I would put my best friend there, but I have no idea if these kind of problems might crop up if we were in a different situation. I mean, if I were to date my best friend he wouldn't be my best friend... you don't have the same issues with people in different 'relationship' slots. So I can't put a different person there - unless it's the whole "understanding each other" thing - but anyone you've known for years is going to know you better than someone you've only really known for 6 months - right?
The thing is, a majority of the problems that my boyfriend brings up are ones that I've completely dismissed because I assume, for one reason or another, that they can't be problems.
Like... for example... the insecurity of loosing one another. Now, I can't get rid of the insecurity that he'll find someone better - I mean, he's great, girls fall over themselves to get to him, I never thought he was even serious when he flirted with me, I can't see how I'm good enough for him.
But we argue and he'll act like I'm going to leave him for someone else. It's like... WHAT?? Stop turning things on their head you silly boy.

But I guess we all have these problems. You love someone, and you fall so hard that you worry they'll destroy your heart if they leave you... and you can't imagine someone feeling the same about you. When it turns out they do, you just feel like saying "But I love you more... so... how is that possible??"

Maybe that's just me?

I mean, I get paranoid that my friends are going to just turn round and say they don't like me really. Wait till they've got all they need from our friendship then go "Oh, you didn't think we were really friends... like I'd be friends with you..."
And, ok, that's from too many experiences of that at the all girls school I went to. Teenage girls are so snippy and bitchy like that. I don't know if it's because they're trying to protect themselves or what. But when you're always the butt of that kind of joke you really do start to feel like no one will ever ACTUALLY like you.
Part of me thinks that's what my real problem last year was with my best friend.
I was so ready to look for any hint of him not really being my friend that I turned little gestures into huge acts of 'un-friendship'. He proved me wrong. Maybe my boyfriend will have to do the same? I hope not, because that seems like a huge test to put someone through.

Speaking of test, why do I constantly feel like I have to prove my love for him?
Maybe I'm just crazy and don't feel good enough, or maybe it's just that I take little jokes to heart, or maybe I actually do. I mean, he's just got out of some really bad relationships, and I feel like I have to prove to him that I'm not like them. That I'm not going to cheat on him, or use him, or leave him because of uni, or buy a house without him getting to see it, or make his life a living hell.
But do I then expect him to prove he wont be an abusive ass hole to me too?

God, seriously complicated.

Problem is, my best friend has been having serious relationship problems too. Their partner isn't someone I know, so it's really really hard to give any advice. I mean, if someone's being quiet or not talking and you know them, you can tell whether there's something wrong, or if they're being shy, or if it's a relationship thing, if it's a life thing, if they're just thinking. When you know someone you can tell those things. When it's your partner you let your emotions and expectations get in the way of what's actually there - and you make these assumptions (which are often wrong) - especially when it's a new relationship or a new person.

Me and my best mate have often said that it's a shame you can't help your emotions, because we understand each other so fundamentally that we'd have a great relationship. Instead we both fell head over heals in love with other people.
Not a big deal for me - I fall in love easily enough. But for him, wow - he's tried falling for so many people, and failed miserably. Maybe if his partner understood that, they'd feel more special?

Have to cut this one short as I have to dash.


Blessed be
xx

Straights becoming Curves

Do you ever feel like life throws so many curve balls at you that you start to expect them so much you aim to hit curve-balls instead of straight ones?

I never thought life was like that for me... but suddenly life's thrown me a straight ball and it's caught me so off guard that it's as if my straight balls are now as effective as curve balls!

I think that life is one of those things we all struggle with in our own ways. 

Sometimes it feels too much though - you know that feeling that just nothing you do is enough? As if you'll never get it quite right, and things will come crumbling down around your ears...

I'm feeling kind of like that right now. 

Life has suddenly thrown a ton of good stuff at me. Long over due in some ways... but I think in all honesty I've just been ignoring the good stuff in life too damn long for me to accept anything good that came my way. 

It started with a new boyfriend. I kinda dove in head first with that one... and my reasons are my own for that... but since then things have just been falling into place.

A job, a way of funding my Masters Degree, a social life, an outlet for my music, good times, travel... it's as if it's all just sprung up out of nowhere, and I just don't know what to do with it all.

There was this sudden realisation not long ago that I've been living my life expecting to never have more than the bare minimum. It's all I've had all my life. A shit area to live in, horrid neighbours, no money, loads of stuff that was all 'found' rather than got from the shop... I'd never even thought about how to have a life and a job at the same time. It suddenly twigged that I have this degree, and a boyfriend, and I don't have to stay here - I don't have to get knocked up to get a house, I don't have to live off benefits, I don't have to never have a holiday. I don't have to be nobody and go nowhere... and it's kind of blown my mind.

After a week in Manchester visiting the boyfriend I came back and found my certificate in a frame hung on my wall. I had to take it down because of what, to me, it symbolises. It symbolises failure to me.... how bad is that?? Completing a degree at university feels like failure because it wasn't a first class degree. That word 'second class' eats me up. Since I can remember it's been drilled into me by teachers, parents, family, friends that I'm the best, that I can do anything, be anything... but I'm not. That certificate isn't just proof of that, it's proof of my own self-destructive defiance of everyone's expectations. Of everyone not pushing me because I was already good enough... and for the openness of their 'options' for me meaning I never dreamt of anything. 

That certificate is a big fuck-you to my life... and if I'm honest, it was done on purpose subconsciously. 

Most people with depression self-harm physically. I'm mental though... so I did it mentally. 

For me, it was about not being good enough... and I think I must have come out through the other side of it all now, because even though I can't see what I'll do with my life yet, there's this hope in me, and this knowledge that it'll all be okay in the end. 

I know that things are going to be better. 

Don't ask how I know, because I'm not sure... but I do. 

For some reason I've started watching The Glee Project... it's basically an america's got talent meets big brother meets glee... and no, I don't watch glee, but mum shoved the very first one of this project on (where they're auditioning kids for the next show) and now I'm hooked... rooting on the ones I think are actual human beings. Anyway, point is - this last episode (well, it's the 3rd actually, which isn't the last or latest, but it's the one that's showing in England atm) was about vulnerability. They had to write a word that described their deepest vulnerability on sign that they then wore for a music video. 

And it got me thinking...

If you could describe your deepest vulnerability in one word - what would it be?

They had words like:

Fat

Gay

Anorexic

Numb

Used

Rejected 

                           etc

So I asked my boyfriend what his would be. He didn't hesitate before saying Loneliness.

I've heard a lot of people say that... and I started wondering what my word would be?
Broken came to mind first; because I do feel broken a lot of the time... but 'broken' isn't a vulnerability. It's a state - sure - but it isn't something you can be judged on. What people judge you on is the stuff that makes you feel broken.

Ugly then? Because I honestly don't believe anyone when they say I'm anything other than ugly. Enough bullying will drill that into you - even if you try your hardest to believe otherwise, it's a struggle. I don't make a big deal out of it, never really have, but it's something I feel really conscious of a lot of the time. 

But the thing is that it feels so stupid to say "My vulnerability is ugliness" when there's a bunch of people saying that you're beautiful.

So what word did I finally settle on?

Wrong.

That's my true vulnerability.

I'm scared shitless of being wrong. Of looking wrong, of saying the wrong thing, of doing the wrong thing, of thinking the wrong thing, believing the wrong thing, being proven wrong, of being thought of as wrong... 

There was a moment this year that brought it home to me, some throw away drunken comment that everyone agreed with that went along the lines of 

"Who thinks Lauren always thinks she's right when really she never is?"
Everyone in our little group of friends raised their hands.
I had to go to the bathroom and cry.

I never really took offence at it though, it was just a nerve that the guy touched when we were all getting drunk and I'd annoyed him by arguing over the rules of a drinking game. All he did was put me back in my place when I was getting a bit too up my own arse.

But for it to hurt like that just shows how close I think it is to the truth.

I'll be honest, I suffer from paranoia anyway - so I constantly think everyone hates me... Being wrong is the main part of that.

I think that what's making such a big difference in my life right now. I'm not letting myself be afraid of being wrong any more. I got it wrong at Uni and didn't do perfect - wasn't the best, wasn't even MY best... and no one cared. Everyone was still happy, pleased, proud... 

When I took the certificate down I text my best friend to ask for advice.

He ended up having a bit of a rant at me... though it was the soppy kind, not the angry kind.
I know he gets frustrated with me sometimes, but he see's so much more good in me than I do - hell, he see's more good in me than I dare to even dream is there. But then again, I occasionally have to point out to him how great he is... so maybe he feels a bit like this. Like nothing you do is quite good enough - like you're never as nice as you could or should be - never do quite as well as you could/should... see all the bad that you do and all the wrong, and all the good stuff just doesn't seem to measure up - let alone out weigh the bad. 

I was on the phone to a friend the other day too. I told him I was a bitch and he knew it (because, in all honesty, that's what I believe), and he just could not work out why I said it. He said I was the least bitchy person he knew. "A bit too honest sometimes maybe... but not a bitch." 

Still don't believe him, but when he demanded an example of me being a horrible person I couldn't find one. I'm certain there's millions... but I wrack my brains and nothing comes out.

Maybe that's helped a little towards me thinking that I might be a decent human being after all. I dunno.

All I know is life is looking up. Though I've said that before this time feels different. Maybe Barry has lifted the dark self-hate that was in me somehow; maybe I'll spend my life with him and it'll never come back... or maybe I've just grown enough to look past my own self image and see something real - just for once. 

Whether I have to do this alone, or whether I'll have help along the way one things for sure - I'll never give up.

I'm gonna be there for the people I love no matter what.

Besides - I owe some of them... big time.

Until dawn bids her final good-morrow

Blessed be

xx

The End of an Era.. or is that Error?

Well, it's finally over. Three years of 'hard' work. Three years of life being turned upside down, then back to front, and once it finally settled into order it was time to pack and leave for good.

Leaving the latest house wasn't hard really. Okay - it was hard work running up and down stairs with boxes constantly... but I didn't get upset with leaving. I think because the place is falling down slowly; and I never fully got on with my flatmates. I miss the parties we had there more than I miss the place itself.
I miss sitting in the kitchen playing guitar.
I miss random friends walking in on me in my room and not giving a damn that I was getting changed.
I miss getting drunk, falling in baths, climbing on roofs, dancing in the kitchen and generally making too much noise.

But everyday living there was never very fun.
Struggles with flatmates over love lives, food, bills, noise, and everything else that comes with being stuck with people you barely know; having issues with heating, the shower deciding to leak through the ceiling and flood the kitchen table, the sinks blocking up, the boiler leaking, the fridge clogging up and leaking, the doors breaking, beds collapsing, and the damp!! Damn, the damp was terrible!
That house was not worth the money.

I miss my friends - though I'm trying to keep busy, keep occupied so I don't remember that back in Leicester I'd have been able to pop to a friends house, or be surprised by one of my friends coming over to say hi. I miss random nights in, or out, with people that I care about. I miss late night study sessions. I miss getting carried home drunk - or carrying friends home drunk - after a great night out.

In particular I miss my best friend.
He did a bit of a runner on all of us not long before we left (for a very valid reason btw), which I guess proves that no one can just deal with all their issues all the time - even super heroes. But he came back in the last few weeks, spending proper quality time with me and our other really close friend. So I guess in a way I was missing him before we left... but now it's just so much harder - because it's 128 miles between us now... a train journey that costs over £70... a car journey that costs more in petrol than a three course meal... and then there's family obligations and work to work around now too.

It's as if our freedom has been taken away. One second we're independent, free, living our lives how we want to... the next we're under someone else's rules, in someone else's home, obligated to go out and earn a living, find money for funding more years of learning... Welcome to the real world: you're a child again.

I suppose to an extent we were all expecting this kind of thing. Because, lets face it, you can't live with your parents and NOT be treated like a child to some extent.
Yes, it sucks. Yes, a lot of our parents try not to do it. Yes, some people live with their parents voluntarily till they're old and grey.
But after that taste of freedom.
After staying out as late as you like, buying your own food, drinking when you want to, learning about how NOT to run a house and pay bills... you kind of want to scream when you come back to not having control of your own life any more. When you can't just leave your light on because "Well I f*cking pay for the electric", or take a shower because "I pay for this water - I can use it when I like." Can't even raid the fridge when hunger strikes at an odd time of day - because you can't say "Well, it's my food... I'll eat it now if I want... and when it's gone it's gone." Suddenly you're in a house where 'grown-ups' pay for the bills, and the rent, and the food... and no matter if you contribute to those bills, or buy some of the food - the fact remains that you aren't EQUAL to the people you live with any more. The people you live with have cared for you for a majority of your life - and demand respect and deferral. You can't have a go at them if they don't do their share of cleaning; or if they use up all of the hot water; or if they leave the telly turned up at night when you're trying to sleep... because they're the parent and you're the child.
Yet - if you do anything they don't like "This is my house! And you'll live by my rules!!"

Feels unfair - right?

Oh well, I'm lucky really. My parents are really considerate and are just grateful I try and pull my weight around the house with chores. Basically - I try not to be a burden and they try not to be condescending.
I know a fair few of my friends don't have that luxury... which makes me sad.
You see - I'm really lucky. My parents are really supportive (okay - sometimes a little TOO supportive) and really try to help me out with what ever I decide I want to do. I go "Mum, Dad, I wanna move to London." They say "Are you sure? You've never even been to London..." and if I say "Yes - I'm sure." they simply nod and go "Okay - let's work out how to make this happen then."
Or - I say "What do you think of my new boyfriend?" and my Dad says "As long as your happy, I love them to bits."

See? It's really cool on one level...

But my friends parents....
One of my mates Dad told him off for taking a weekend shift: "But I was going to use you on Saturday!"... not "I was going to ask for your help." not "I was hoping you could do something for me" but "I was going to use you." No respect what so ever.
I mean - I have friends who I personally don't feel respect their parents enough *cough* DJ *cough*... but then again, respect is a two way thing. I just never really thought that parents could BE disrespectful... it actually never occurred to me. I mean, I close my door and am given complete privacy. Knock and wait to be let in kind of privacy. I don't get ordered about (okay, mainly because if ordered to do something I'll just argue and not do it, where as if it's half mentioned that something could do with doing I go do it practically straight away)... it just seems so wrong.

So yeah - I have these friends who's parents don't treat them right... and I kinda have that "I'll Save You!" attitude... and have to stop myself.
Reminder to self: you are NOT a super hero.
Then again, they get paid about as much as me (which is nada) so... I'm halfway there - right?

Yes, I got a job. No, I haven't been paid yet. No, I don't know if they're going to let me work more that one night a week. No, I'm not satisfied... but hey - £20 a week is better than nothing right?

I'm still looking for work.
The only thing is - I like this whole night work thing. It suits me. I can get up around 10/11 am, do what I want all day, then work till 2am, then bed! It works for me. I don't know why - it just does. Not to mention only working a few nights a week really free's up my schedule for going to see the new boyfriend.

Yes - I said boyfriend.
We started dating on the 11th of June... I haven't seen him in 2 weeks... I'm getting to the worried point where I think everything is going to go wrong and I'm going to break his heart, and I'm going to fail at yet another attempt at happiness.
Stupid thing is - I'm scared of hurting him... but there's nothing in me that thinks anything he can possibly do will hurt me. It's as if my hearts been messed with so many times it just stopped caring in that way. It has this impervious shielding where pain is involved. It just kinda runs off like warm ice cream. Sticky and opaque - but not harmful unless you're made of silk of velvet... or maybe electronics...
I don't know. I seem to have thrown myself into this body and soul... but shouldn't my heart have gone first? And don't you have to believe in a soul to throw one into anything?
So... I've thrown my body into this... that sounds wrong.
I don't know how to explain it. It's as if I've committed whole heartedly to this relationship thing and kept a ton of myself back. Okay, Okay - it's only been 3weeks... and I've not seen him for 2 weeks of that - what am I worrying about right??
I blame hormones and PMT and anything else feminine that allows me to over think these things, and get worried that I'm going to get it all wrong again.

But, for the first time in a hell of a long time, I can see myself settling down with a guy. I can see getting old with him, and maybe starting a family... I can see myself waking up to him every day - and  it making me smile just to see him. I can see picking out furniture with this guy, and holding his hands until we both have to use walking frames to get anywhere - and even then we'd still be touching constantly.
I mean - the only other person I've been able to imagine spending eternity with in any way shape or form is my best friend Li.... and this is different. I guess that's why I'm freaking out - because it's 3 weeks... I shouldn't be thinking like this after 3 weeks with a guy. Am I just hugely infatuated? Am I flinging myself at a relationship because I suddenly have the urge to settle down? Am I rushing into something for all the wrong reasons? And does it matter?

Part of me says - just go with it!
The other part says - relationships cause families. Families are forever. Think before you commit to 'forever'.

But hey - this is just my insecurities coming out if I'm honest.

Right now I'm actually more worried about finances - and trying to get up enough funding so that I can apply for (and slowly pay off) a loan to do my Masters degree.

Okay - I'm more worried about the degree itself. I have to decide which one to go for to start with :- Adaptations, Research, or Independent. And then if I do one of the last two I have to write a proposed research subject and why I want to research it and why I don't think enough research has been done in that area... pretty darn daunting. Then I have to actually get the application in - and hope like hell that I actually HAVE got my 2:1 and can possibly be accepted.

I'm so nervous that I'm spending loads of time with my family - or sorting out my room (I'm still unpacking) - or seeing friends from Derby - or playing guitar. Anything to stop the little panic button from flashing up constantly.

Then I hold my newest niece, change her bum, give her a bottle, clean up her sick - and instantly the little hormone fairy starts screaming in my head "BABIES BABIES BABIES BABIES BABIES BABIES!!" - so yes, I'm getting rather broody a majority of the time.

The only thing is - Party life + fun.. or family and babies? It seems to be a distinct line to me. You either have a life of fun and friends and games... or you're a mum with kids to look after and a different kind of fun to have.
I hate decisions...
so...
RUN!!!

Oh well - it'll all be fine. I think the reason I'm stressing so much right now is because it basically IS decision time. Time to decide what to do with my life. Time to decide if I'm going to be a career woman, or a layabout, or a mum, or a dad... wait - what?

Anyway - I'm going to stop rambling now!!


Fare thee well
Blessed be.

xx

oh what a tangled web we weave

Sometimes life gets too complicated to handle. Sometimes you crawl into bed at the end of the day and breath a sigh of relief that now you can relax into the confused pain, put your mask to one side and cry all those tears you've held back all day. You can take up a pen, or the laptop, and let out all the words that you've been holding back all day. All the hate, and anger, all the longing and desires, all the wishes that, in the lighy of day, you dare not dream of.
Sometimes you curl up and cry, or fall to your knees and scream your heart out.

Then again, sometimes you go out three nights in a row and get fall down drunk (literally), cry in the toilets, fall to your knees in your friends kitchen because you can't stand the pain anymore, scream at the top of your voice as you walk home hanging onto your flat mate.

Why?

Because life turned into a knot of confused connections, relations, feelings...

Just keeping track of my own feelings has become a daunting task, trying to understand and keep track of everyone else's is near impossible!

I swear some higher being decided to shake my life and is sat laughing at the mess.
Okay, so maybe its more that I went crazy and tore my own world down, ripping everything up then setting fire to anything that wasnt inflammable... ok, work that out if you can.

It's bad, because no one realises just how much I've given up on life. On everything.
I try hard to hide it most of the time, but I just cant get interested in living when it hurts this much.

I just wish someone would explain why it hurts this bad.
What monunental Fuck Up led to this?

Bugger it.


Blessed be xx

sent from my HTC

Sugar we're going down

Welcome to the Spiral of Life.

Please note the handrail to the left - for those on the upwards approach, and the slide to the right - for those wishing to descend quickly and easily.

Please be aware that your momentum can have an effect on those travelling by you, and that their momentum can have an effect on your own - especially if you choose to tie yourself to them.

The option of tying yourself to other travellers on the spiral is entirely optional, however it should be noted that they are capable of tying themselves to you without your prior permission. Cutting these ties can have a detrimental effect on momentum.

We hope you enjoy your time on the Spiral of Life.
Any queries/complaints should be taken up with one of the following:

Allah
Brahma
Buddha
God
Jesus

(for a full and exhaustive list of higher management, please turn to appendix DCLXVI)

Thank you, and good luck on your journey.


Okay, so maybe life isn't a spiral exactly - but that's how it feels at the minute. Like a spiral that I keep climbing up, sliding down, being dragged around...
My flat mate and best friend, Kaydee, is getting quite low at the minute because of her status as 'single'.
I know that feeling... but I have the opposite problem atm.
All these guys who keep doing the whole 'I love you - lets have sex' routine.
The only thing is, I don't know how to make them stop without hurting their feelings.

I mean - I pride myself on telling the truth... but lately I've been telling half-truths.
Like, saying to a friend "I love you" and meaning that I love them as a friend; that I'd die for them, provide for them, be there for them no matter what - but at the same time, they say "I love you" back meaning 'I'm in love with you - I love everything about you' or something like that...
So it's a half truth, you see, because they think I mean one thing when I mean another.
Sometimes it feels worse than lying; because it's pedantic. It makes out that they're in the wrong - when in reality, it's not..

So, here I am, being a total bitch by caring for someone and letting them think I care more than I do.
Even bigger bitch because I'm doing it to more than one person.

I want to clear the air with them. I really do.
I just don't know how.
It's driving me insane.

I'd say I'm being a whimp because I'm avoiding the issue; avoiding being hurt. But it's them I'm worried about.
I guess, in my mind, I'm just hoping it'll peter out on its own. You know? Just run its natural course and turn into the friendship I always wanted to have with them?
Naive? Maybe.

I guess I just don't want to be the one who says "Game Over".

It's stupid, because I know I have to deal with this.
I thought I had several times, but (damn me) I'm such a flirt that... somehow... it comes full circle.

The worst part is that I really play the part of being loved up.
I like acting that way with people though. I act that way with my friends.
People say "You seem so in love" and I just think - are you not paying attention?
I don't look at them with adoration. Okay - it's the only thing I can't affect.
Damn! I should have been an escort or something. I know how to make people feel loved.
That shouldn't be a bad thing!!!


Why has it turned into my fault, rather than my virtue?
Why has making people happy become a bad thing?

My mate said once that it was because I 'sell my body'. That's kinda prudish and untrue.
But I can see their point. After all, I'm the one who ends up feeling used at the end of the day.

I'm collecting poems together at the minute, and it's making want to express myself through poetry. I just wish I weren't so bad at it.
My attempt at expressing my frustration over this started with the lines:

I'm getting tired of dryin'
your eyes, and sick of tryin'
to be your shoulder while you're cryin'
and feeling like a orifice to stick your dick in

at which point I go - okay - stop. Breath. You said the word 'dick'... okay, it was for internal rhyming reasons, but you're also taking the 'g's off words to force the end rhyme... calm down.

See, that's the thing.
I'm getting really angry about it all.
Because the guys that are involved
don't seem to realise that I feel this way.
That I feel so betrayed.
That I give as much love as I can,
but when they're done 'being the man'
all I'm left with is a hole
that they think they've made whole...
They take my heart and pierce it,
with their pain and their love and their digit,
and I can barely feel it;
but when they go I'm left with
an open wound that I'm desperate
to fill with something
anything
just to stop the pain from pouring
out of that hole; the pain I'm storing
up for them, for everyone.
The pain of holding on.
The pain of knowing,
the pain that's growing,
with every breath I take,
and every day I wake,
and every moment with them,
and every time I do it again,
till there's nothing left.
My soul's bereft.

And all that's left to say
is "I was holding on for 'One Day'",
and remembering the way you felt
as you held my heart and kissed that welt,
and felt when you made it skip a beat
while you treated me as more than meat.
You've held my hand, and helped me grow,
in more ways than you'll ever know.
You give me hope, and even strength,
and fill me with your wonderment.
And so, for you, and yes - for me,
I'll cut them loose, and then you'll see
that I was just trying to help them
feel loved, and got it wrong...


Okay, so that was an accident - but hey.
I'm not going to bother editing it (like you're supposed to with poetry), because this is about raw feeling, and needing to express just how much I can't express it.
That's the thing though, I can. There's always a way to express it. You just have to find the way - right?

Words are like my comfort blanket. They wrap around me in a defensive pose, rebuffing anyone that tries to get close. They're like my feelings.
I've been using them in really horrible ways lately, because I've felt horrible.
Thing is, I've felt so horrible because I've been mad at myself - for everything. For not getting work done on time, for leaving things to the last minute, for loosing contact with people, for constantly getting things wrong, for saying things are okay when they aren't...
Mostly, I've felt bad about not being who I am.
That doesn't sound like it makes sense - but I'm sure you've been there. That point where you just go and be what you think people want you to be; or what you know they don't want you to be.
It's as if I've wanted everyone to feel as badly about me as I do. You try and show them you feel bad and they get all sympathetic and try to convince you otherwise. However, you start acting like a total bitch and being as horrible as you feel, and they start to feel that way too.
There's some twisted, depressed logic in there somewhere.

So now, with my best friend slapping me round the face with a wet fish (without realising it) and waking me up to the true reality (because no, I didn't realise that was what I was doing until now), I'm left with a new suitcase of emotional baggage to lug around - that I'm tempted to just set fire to and run away from - and a new problem/issue of needing to hurt some people in order to stop hurting them (if that makes sense).

Isn't life fun?

I suppose it isn't helpful that several of my friends have 'depressing issues' that are getting them really down, and I look at their problems and go... what?... okay - wanna trade?? Sure!! I'll have issues with not being able to get laid!! I'll take your self esteem issues that you seem to think I don't have!!
Everyone seems to have the same problems - they don't think they're good enough.
Well - I have news for those people that are mourning their own lack of confidence and lack of personal amazement -
Welcome to reality.
Welcome to the real world.
Welcome to life!!

So you thought that it would be different?
Well - if you're so upset about it - do something about it!
Don't like how people treat you? Confront them about it - give them reason to treat you differently.
Don't like yourself? Change.
Don't like the world? Do something about it.

This is my perspective at least. Which is why I'm trying to change. I don't like who I've been over the past year or so, but I like who I've been trying to be. So I'm gonna keep trying, and hopefully get there in the end.

As for now, I have work to do and tutor's to email.
Hope you're well!


Blessed be.

Dazed and Infused

I finally got up the courage to read my best friends latest blog.

Yes - you read that right. I needed courage to read a blog. Well... if you knew me, you might understand - if you KNOW me ('cause I just realised people who know me are probably my only reader base... wow, I'm a retard sometimes) then you probably can guess what I mean.
If you've read my blogs before you'll know that I'm not the most mentally healthy person in the world. In fact - lately I've been having memory blanks and my best friends response was "Maybe you have multiple personality disorder... it'd explain a lot..." (and she's right - it would). So here I am, crazy little person in my little world of whatever... scared to read my best friends blog because of what it might say this time.

Now, this will come as no surprise to most people that I don't do well with suicide, suicidal tendencies - hell, depression in general - especially of people close to me. People who aren't close friends or family get avoided like the plague when they start displaying symptoms of the above.
I just don't deal with it.
It's bad. Really bad. Especially when it means that I'm not there for my closest friends because their feeling low makes me want to run away so badly that all I can do to show some form of 'support' is to stay put.
It gets worse when I'm low myself, or when I'm stressed out.

Lately, I've been both. Gotta love the combination! I'm so stressed because I need to stop doing everything and focus on my work for the deadlines... but I'm so stressed that I can't focus... which is making me even more depressed... which means I can't even start the work... which means I get more stressed... you get the idea. It's a fun circle of downwards-ness...
But after like... what? Eight years?... of dealing with it, you learn how to break the cycle and get going again. Because the fun part of the cycle is that it works in reverse too. If I get started, I feel less depressed (because I feel I've overcome it)... which makes me think that I'll be able to do the work... so I get less stressed... so I start being able to focus better... which makes me less depressed about being unable to work... which continues on an upward spiral till the work is actually done and I can go party.
It's why I've been working outside a lot lately. The sunshine helps (though, in retrospect, the sunstroke doesn't)

So anyway, back to the blog I was talking about.
My friend suffers from depression - same as me. She's not had it quite as long, so she hasn't got the amount of fail-safe's in place as me.
Good example - I've had it so long I never have more than one pack of ibuprofen and one pack of paracetamol in the house at any given time. Why? Because they don't affect each other, and don't aid one another in an overdose - and a single pack of one isn't enough to do more than give you belly ache. So, if I feel suicidal, I know I can't OD. Simple yeah? I also never keep sharp implements in my room. The only sharp things I own are the knives in the kitchen, and they're communal. For some reason, the idea of using something that everyone expects to be able to use to cut myself is just... plain unpleasant. I can't explain it. But that stops self harming or attempting to slit wrists.
I've been building up these little habits from the age of 15. Seven years of that kind of prep make them so part of your life that you don't think about them.
She's only had it a year or two.
Those habits weren't necessary for her survival before, so she still does the logical thing of bulk buying tablets (so you don't run out, and so that you always have some if you need them... etc) and she still shaves her legs (one reason I turned to epilation was so I never had razors around).
Like I say - they're silly little things that no one thinks about really, but it kinda removes temptation... well, for me at least.

So there have been times when I've come down to find her bleeding, or throwing up tablets (Sambuka sick!!) or needing to go to hospital...
And her blog can often reflect that. "Emo" she calls it. It's short for 'emotional' and describes a sub-genre of 'goth' (in my opinion) that is more focused on self destruction than on defiance of societies consumer-driven public through shock tactics.
You probably know all about Emo's... they're pretty standard now a-days.

So when you see a blog entitled "The thing suicidal here is the door, we had a good run, even I have to admit." you take an educated guess at what's being talked about and go...
Can I read that in my mental state?

Well - without knowing what it says, that's a difficult question to answer.
So I've been putting it off, and putting it off... getting more and more annoyed at myself for not being able to just click on that title and read her blog.
What was I scared of?
A lot really... thought maybe you'll only understand some of it.
The biggest fear (because depression gives you lovely paranoia) is always that she'll blame me for it. It's self centred to think you're that much of an influence - but, when we were having some of our bigger fights earlier this year, I got a message from her that, part way through, blamed me for her suicide attempts. Since then she's said it was just the meanest thing she could think to say... but it's always there in the back of my mind now.
Second biggest fear is that it'll say she's OD'd... but that one was alleviated when I found out our other best friend had read it and talked to her about it.
Next biggest fear? That she'll be talking about how she wants to die.
I'm not good with that - as I've said before - and I react in one of two ways:
1. get upset and have to try not to cry
2. get pissed off and not want to talk to her
Then there's silly fears like that she'll say stuff that really needs commenting on... but that I can't think what to say about. Or that I'll just not be able to broach a subject. Worse - if I can think of something that would help, but don't know how to say it (in case it comes across as judgemental or condescending).

The list goes on.

So basically, I sat down today at my laptop, and after receiving the excellent good news that I'd been granted an extension for my coursework (which was very much needed) , I thought "Oooh, wonder if Libor has posted any more of that story in his blog yet?" and logged in to Blogger...
And there it was. Still sat in my Reading List, waiting dutifully for me to open it up and read it through like a good friend.
I'll be honest - I nearly just closed the browser and got ready for the library.
But I'm feeling better today (finally), so I was good and read it.

It starts off with the normal depressed feelings, but moves on to explain that she's stronger now and wont be attempting anything silly because she's realised what suicide does to people.
I know what your thinking. "Suicide kills people Lauren - that's the intention... that's what it's supposed to do... wakey wakey..."
but I don't mean to the person committing it, I mean to everyone around them.
She'd worked this out through desperate house wives.
Part of me's sad that she never understood what it was like through me explaining my experiences with my friend Georgina, or with my Brother-In-law Veesham...
But she went on to apologise for not understanding before. There's a couple of us (her friends) that have lost people (read family) to suicide. It really is so different to death. I can't explain how... it's just... you look at your friends and you think 'if I lost you, I'd be so sad' (or words to that effect)... and if a friend or family member dies it really really hurts.
But if they purposefully take themselves away from you like that - forever... you think "What did I do wrong? What didn't I do? Why was I not enough to make them want to stay alive? Why did they want to hurt me like this? Did they just not think it would hurt me? Was I that bad at showing them how much they meant to me??" and it hurts about a million times more...

I guess that's why I use the word 'love' so much. Some people say I use it too loosely, that I apply it to things that I don't mean. I say to my friends that I love them - and some people think that means I don't know what real, deep, lasting, true love is or feels like. But it's not that.
I never again want to think that I didn't tell someone that I care for so much how much them mean to me. I never want to think "If I'd just made that little bit more effort, would they have known I loved them? Would it have made a difference?"
So maybe I do use it too often for some peoples liking - but they can go chew cud.
Love isn't just being in-love with someone. It's having a place in your heart for someone.
I love my friends so much... it hurts when they're hurting... and I'd never stop missing them if I lost them...

That's probably why it hurts so much to read her blogs sometimes.
My Kaydie-kins is always hurting... and, no matter what I do, I can't take that pain away...
It's a hard fact of life to deal with - that you can't save everyone - but we all learn it eventually.
I guess I mother her sometimes. She's a year younger than me, half a foot taller than me (at least), and works harder than me... but I still mother her. I'd say it's my nature - but sometimes I think it's because she doesn't seem to have a proper 'mother' figure... well, not one like mine. Not one that's always there, and always supportive, and always ready to drop everything to help one of her babies.
Not judging here btw. Everyone's family is different.

I'm so lucky in that both my parents are so supportive it gets annoying. I love that the reason my parents annoy me is that I always have their support. I could never really shock them. They've always known I'm bi - without me having to say it; if I got a tattoo without telling them, they'd be excited to see what it was; if I fell pregnant and decided to move to Australia, they'd be sad that I didn't want to be near them, but would probably try and find a way to help me pay for the flights. They're just... so damn supportive... it's hard to understand what it's like for my friends whose parents don't support them through everything.
Some of my friends say "My dad'd kill me if I did that..." and some of those friends I actually believe.

Reading Kaydie's blog, it turned into a rant about her family.
They're so un-supportive... I just want to shout at them!
I mean... her Grandma being a bit scatty and telling her stuff she knows... that I can understand and forgive - as well as the 'Loose weight... eat cake!" attitude. Old people are a bit like that at times... and her Gran's a bit nutty anyway (in a good way... I think).
But when I hear about her mum and dad chastising her for her depression!
I just want to find them and hurt them... which isn't good. You should never want to hurt people - let alone people that your friends love - let alone their family - let alone their parents.
It's just this ... RAWR.... of frustration.
Part of me thinks it's because I put myself in her position and can feel how much harder that makes the whole process of living - I mean, being depressed is about thinking you're not good enough, or that people don't understand you... for those people to turn around and put you down because that's how you feel... it's like proving your point! It makes it so much worse, and so much harder.
At the same time, another part of me is so mad at them for Me and Libor. I mean, we basically step into their role of being the supportive ones, of being there for her, of loving her... which is what her mum and dad are supposed to do. And ever positive step we make with her is totally undermined by them!
It's like we take a baby step forwards, and they don't just make her take a step back, they push her over!
Every time we get her to feel a bit better about herself, they manage to say something that shows they have no confidence in her, or criticise how she looks, and it knocks her legs from under her. All her confidence disappears in a burst of tears.

It's like watching a kid make a really pretty picture for their parents, and their mum or dad just laugh and screw it up, then throw it away.
The heart break on her face when she talks about it. That pain that she pushes behind a mask of jokes and bubbling anger... it's too much sometimes.

So I finish her blog, and just want to go grab her, say "You're mum's a bitch - fuck her, fuck everything she says, she's a bully and you deserve so much more than that!" and run away with her (and Libor) to a place where they can never hurt her again.
But the fact is, she's still her mum. And her dad is still her dad. She loves them.
It's really that simple. You love your parents - no matter what really. You can hate them sometimes - but under that is still a love for the people who made you (both physically and emotionally/mentally)...
You can't just call someone's mum a bitch - even if they themselves have been saying it. It's just not done.

Besides, I haven't yet admitted to her that I'd not read her blog. So... that plan is so out of the window that the broken glass is still saying "why didn't you open the window first - you pritt-stick?"

So here I am, blogging away while I try and work out what to do.
My options seem to be:

1. Talk to her mum, and ask her to show a little more support of her daughter. Try and get her to understand what depression is, and why self harming is the way it is. [likelihood of success: 15%]
2. Yell at her mum, tell her she's a bad person, that I'm more of a mother to Kaydie than she is. [likelihood of success: 0%... though it'd make me feel better]
3. Talk to Kaydie and try to convince her that her Mum's opinion isn't worth listening to. Get Libor to help by bribing him with chocolate cake and roast dinner [likelihood of success: 15%]
4. Surprise Kaydie with ... something... and make her realise that her friends love her a lot and are there for her, so the family thing doesn't matter [likelihood of success: 50% - temporary effect]
5. Think of something better... [likelihood of success: ??%]

Nothing I can think of will have either a huge effect or a lasting one. It's so frustrating I actually want to scream. 

Instead of screaming, however, I'm going to get changed, pack my things, and go to the library to do my essay like a good girl.

Sorry for the ramble... 

Remember - I love you!!!

Blessed Be xx

The Dream

I've had dreams like this before - at least the very ending of it; but this one was so intense and beautiful in its own way that I had to share it. 

As a warning, this dream was erotic (though not explicitly so) and - for those of you who haven't studied dream theory or psychology - I'd like to point out that the people in dreams are often signifiers, or replacements; basically a person you trust takes the place of someone either in real life, or in a situation that you have no person from real life to fulfil the role with. 

With these things in mind, I'd like to invite you into the privacy of my mind, and allow you a small insight into my world.

We must have fallen asleep like this; my head on his chest, one hand under his shoulder, the other wrapped gently round his waist, one leg curled over his. His hands lay gently on my back, one foot hooked over my straight leg where it still rested on the bed. I woke up and didn't want to move or get up. The warmth and comfort of being that close to him, touching skin to skin, of being held.
Not thinking, I nuzzled closer to his chest. The smell of him washed over me and I inhaled deep. His deodorant barely masked the smell of his skin and the dampness of his sweat. He always smells of warm rain to me; that clean, cool freshness that rain brings with it - only warm. I could hear and feel his heartbeat, slow and steady, beneath me.

I must have woken him by snuggling closer, because his arms tightened around me. Hugging him back I felt his head lift moments before he kissed me on the forehead.
My own head tilted back to look at him. Then our lips met and the world disappeared. The kiss was slow, as though we were still sleeping, but grew in intensity as we pulled each other even closer.

Soon we were laid on our sides, bodies entwined, exploring each others mouths with our eyes lightly closed. Something touched against my most sensitive parts and I finally realised we were both nude. We both pulled back from the kiss enough to stare in each others faces. His eyes were just as surprised and questioning as mine. After a moment, though, our faces were just fractionally closer. I don't know who had moved; but, as if it were a cue for something more, we fell into each other again. This time, when our lips met, our bodies did too - joining us together in a slow, languorous motion.

My hands slid round his back, and without thinking he ended up on top of me, moving slowly but rhythmically in me. It was as though his movements were caused purely by deep breathing, and I found myself wrapping my legs around his while his strong arms supported him as he hovered above me on his hands and knees.
The kiss had stopped, though the gentle massaging movement hadn't, and he stared down into my eyes as if seeing me for the first time.
Slowly his body lowered to mine, his hands cupping round the back of my shoulders, his face inches above mine as he continued to take my breath in ragged pleasured gasps.

This time, as he kissed me, I felt my body melt away. No; not away - it melted into his. Or did it ever exist to begin with? It was as if all that was left was the feeling and him. His presence surrounding me with love and happiness. I felt him deep inside, but in a metaphysical, mental, emotional way this time.
As the feeling intensified I began to feel more of him - more of who he is, was, could be.
Then the memories started. Vague at first; just images of him, images I knew - of his longer hair, of his smile, of his frown, of him fighting back tears. As I watched, he grew younger, and the images became moments. Some moments he had told me about before; memories of his family, of moving, of being an outcast. Other's I'd never imagined, never been told of.
The thing was, I didn't just see them, I felt them - felt them as he had. I wept with him at the pain, and for him when he was wronged. I rejoiced with him in his achievements.
Images of women came next, of girls he had known. This one he had loved; this one he hadn't. I felt his regret over some, his yearning of others. I felt his heart break over this one; then another - felt the rejection...
Eventually they were moving too fast to think about. It was as if I were just absorbing everything he'd ever been; and behind it all was that searching, that feeling of displacement. Behind it all was the 'perfect' image he slowly created that he desperately wanted to find.

The feelings intensified until I cried out, my body coming back to me in a moment of sheer pleasure.
We collapsed together, breathing hard; he by my side, one arm flung across the bed as if it would stabilise him. After a few deep breaths that sounded like those of a drowning man, I managed to turn and look at him.
There were tears running down his cheeks, though he didn't look sad. He turned to look at me, and saw my hand reach out and brush a tear away.
Normally I'd make a comment like "Was it that bad?", but without knowing how, I felt that he had just seen what I had... or perhaps, had seen the same amount of me.
His hand was on my cheek, brushing away my own tears that I hadn't realised were there.
The thing was, we hadn't just cried because of the sad things we'd seen; we cried because of all of it - because it was too beautiful not to cry. We had seen each others souls - and if that didn't warrant tears, nothing does.

We leant together and kissed once more. This time our bodies didn't melt away quite the same, but we seemed to float away together; everything dissolving around us until there was just him, me, and the moment.
I could feel his thoughts, and saw that he could feel mine too.
There was no need to say "I love you." We already knew.

The Voice of Experience

The three of us were sat in the living room, mugs of tea and coffee at hand, just chatting between odd jobs.

Geoff is in his late forties, early fifties now - the same as mum. It's not surprising that they both still see me as a child - I'm only 22... yet at my age both were married with children. Perhaps that's what makes me seem so young to them. When they think back to their fun years, they were still teenagers.
Of course, that's reminiscence began. It quickly moved onto the idea of Urban Surfing (the act of standing on the roof of a van and 'surfing' it while it's driven) and progressed onto other insane things they did as 'kids'.

The only thing I've done that's even remotely crazy is skinny dip - surprisingly neither of them have tried it.

Mum used to Dome Ride - something they invented themselves that involved sitting in a padded out metal dome and being dragged at speed across fields by a range rover. She even walked a mile long train tunnel - yes, a train came; no, she wasn't injured; no, she didn't have to duck under it and hide in the tracks - she stepped into an alcove. She would jump locks at the river - 25 foot from one embankment to the other... which reminds me of the infamous five words that every man will speak at one time of his life - "I can jump that far".

But Geoff didn't grow up in a rural area like mum. He was a London lad, and enjoyed playing in the river Thames, or riding on top of elevators. Hanging off the tops of buildings with his friends till their arms all but gave in (a couple of his friends died once doing it though - no, he wasn't there at the time).
The one that stands out though is something every dare-devil teenager has either tried or fantasised about doing - and that's riding the underground train... on the roof.

I guess the reason this one stands out  is because of the story avoided but hinted at.
He told us that you had to get the knack of holding on tight, but laying off centre enough that the lights didn't hit you.
He grew up riding the tube that way with his mates. Only thing is, the more you grow - the less room you have to fit in the tunnel. He lost a friend on those roofs too.
They were riding next to each other.
One minute his friend was next to him.
The next he was covered in their blood.
His friend was just gone.
He couldn't ride a train for a long time after that.

It's a shocking thing to imagine happening - let alone to someone you're so close to. Geoff is like an adopted uncle - the crazy one who likes to make gory props for the renewal (a role-playing convention) and loves making special effects.
I always knew he had what could be classed as "a rough childhood"... but it's  hard to believe that at a young age he witnessed something that traumatic.

But I have a tendency to close my minds eye to this kind of thing.
I mean... My sister, bless her, had to cut her own husband down and attempted CPR on him though he was already stiff with rigour after he hung himself.
My best friend Li has to deal with mortalities constantly while working in the hospital.
My flat mate Kaydee deals with terminal patients regularly working as a carer.
So many people face these really difficult things on a regular basis, or one time horrors that are almost too much to even imagine having to do. Yet they don't let it break them.
They truly inspire me.

So why do you then get other people who make a huge big deal about nothing at all?
I mean - I say 'nothing at all'... it's more things that are insignificant in the grand scale of things.
Do you think it's because they don't have the same scale to judge things by?
Possibly.

I mean, we all over-exaggerate our problems from time to time - when they're stressing us out - because they become so big in our minds that they're all we think about.
I know that I'm guilty of such thinking - I let things consume me... not just problems - but concepts, ideas, projects, people... sounds like I'm driven - but I'm not. Just obsessive. If I were driven I'd actually finish the projects, follow through on ideas... but the obsession just gets overtaken by the next one.
Bad huh?

I suppose that's what makes me destined to be a writer.
If I could focus for longer periods of time on one thing I might be useful for something.
As it is, writing will have to be it. I can always just change what I'm writing about and go back to old ones again later... or so the theory goes!!

With Graduation looming closer and closer, I'm thinking more and more about what I want to do with my life. All I can think of is writing. Writing reviews of novels, critical analysis' of literary texts, novels, short stories, poetry, plays...  maybe even film scripts...
the idea just seems so dream like. I barely dare hope it'll happen.
I'm actually trying to work out when you have to give up and say "Time to stop trying with the writing"....

Maybe I should stop worrying about that, and start looking into publishing?

First - lets finish this Degree.
No point trying to be published if you can't finish a dissertation.

Aaaanyway.
I'm going to leave you alone for now.
Hope your Easter Holiday is going well


Blessed Be xx

That loving feeling

"You can't say that!"

He's leant back on the bed, laptop still on his raised knees, phone to his ear. I'm trying not to eavesdrop - but it's hard when I'm laid so close to him. I try hard to focus on my own laptop.

"You can't hate relationships though - I don't believe you."

A pause while the other person tries to argue. I know this tone of voice though - the voice of the true believer. I'd tell him that relationships are hard and painful... but I'm not listening!! Honest!

"No, cause like - where else are you going to get that comfort from?.... No, not friends - that's different. I mean, yeah, you need it from friends and everything - but I'm talking about, like, cuddling up with someone while you watch a film, falling asleep with them in your arms, waking to them kissing you..."

Now I really wish I could have not heard.
I'm glad that my eyes are watering constantly because of the coughing and sneezing; it hides when they start watering for other reasons. I'm lucky enough to be sniffling constantly just to try and breath - no one would suspect a thing. Heck, even I can't tell if I'm crying or not.
But it hurts. It shouldn't - but it does.

The conversation moves on to something else, and I can finally stop listening, because my own mind is stuck on those thoughts.
The thing is, I've got that being offered me. I've got someone practically throwing the offer of that comfort at me... and I just can't take it. Not from him. Does that make me a bad person?
He loves snuggling up to me, falling asleep with me, waking up with me...
... but I don't love it. I find it frustrating. You know those times when people have hold of you and you just want to peel them off and step back, brushing yourself off? Yeah - that's the one. That feeling of "Gerroff willya?"
It's not fair on him... but at the same time, my mothering response has kicked in. The whole "There there, come to mummy - she'll make it all better." He seems so hurt by everything at the minute - I just want to help. Why is that always twisted into something I don't want it to be?

I suppose it's just the position you put yourself in at times though.
I put myself into the position of being the carer - the lover - and then bitch about it. I shouldn't complain really. To be honest, I'm getting better at not complaining. Getting better at not hurting too.

Like - when we were filming for Dan, I was supposed to break down and cry. I thought - that's fine, heck! That's great! I'll get to let out all the pain that's just clinging to me, hiding beneath the surface behind a thinly held line of will.
But when it came to filming it, I just couldn't find the pain. I dragged memories to myself, wrapped them around me, let the feelings they had evoked wash through me. But that's all they did - wash through me.
It's as if I've learnt to let everything go in a wash of  understanding. It doesn't really hurt any more. The pain is more like a shadow - a memory.
Part of me wonders if I just didn't feel safe/comfortable enough to let all of that raw emotion out alone with Dan and his camera. But then again, I barely cry any more. I go through the stage of nearly crying - maybe even loosing a few tears - but then something gives way in my mind, or my chest, and I just pull back together. I'd say I pull myself together - and sometimes I do - but mostly it does it on it's own.

The only thing that really cuts deep lately is the boyfriend/girlfriend thing.
I miss the comfort.
It's not the being held exactly - not the kissing - certainly not the sex. It's the knowing that the person you love with all your heart loves you back just as much. It's knowing that no matter what time of the day, you could text them, or they could text you, and it'll make you both smile. Thinking about them almost all the time, and knowing they're doing the same about you. It's walking into a shop, and being accosted by the absolute need to buy something, just because they'll like it. It's being surprised with flowers. It's...
It's all the things I've taught myself not to believe in.
Because I've taught myself that love isn't like that. It isn't romance, it isn't flowers, it isn't smiles and holding hands... it's just two people using a word to hide their fear behind - it's just an excuse to be with someone physically.

I always thought that I had a practical view on life, on love.
I thought that relationships were just give and take.
Then I met Li.

It's hard to think of myself as having my eyes opened; but I suppose that's what he did. He showed me completely by accident that "chivalry isn't dead"... no, more than that. He showed me that cynicism wasn't the only order of the day - and that true, real, actual caring and love was still real. Not just a fairy-tale.
In a way I'm jealous that he still has/had that. It's like a new-ness... like a flower that's only just blossomed and hasn't yet wilted under the heat and pressure of the sun.
I envied his ability to believe in happiness.
Now I'm just as hooked on the idea - if not as hopeful.

I'm scared though. Scared that this is just another ideal - another build up to a let down.
Even more scared that it IS real, and I'll just never get to experience it.
There's part of me that's so sure I'll watch my best friends find that perfect person -their Muirn Betha Dan - their soul mate - and that I'll be left behind, watching them in their glow of happiness, never able to find my own.

I used to believe I could feel my soul-mate you know.
I believed it so hard that sometimes I'd be laid in bed and it was as if he was holding my hand.
It was so real that I thought I could see his eyes when I closed mine. Feel his short dark hair in my fingers. Hear his voice call my name...
But it was only dreams. Those blue eyes don't really exist; though I'm sure I can convince myself another set of blue eyes are the ones I dreamt of years ago...
You know, I used to go all day (when I was younger) just waiting for the evening where I could curl up in bed and listen to him hum, imagine his hand stroking my hair, watch his hands pick up a guitar and start to play. He'd sing me to sleep. Now I don't even remember the sound of his voice.
All I remember is those eyes, and the sure knowledge that I had of recognising him through those eyes.

Part of me still clings to that dream.
Part of me wished I'd never had it.

I sound like such a pessimist!!

I shake myself in time to hear him hang up, and we resume our gaming.
It's odd, but part of me wants to say that apart from the 'waking to being kissed' thing, he just described his own relationship with (not only me, but) a hell of a lot of people. I don't though, because he'll say it's different, and I don't want to hear those words.
I want to be comforted like that, and for this moment my mind makes Li that comfort. He's the only one I feel comfortable enough around to actually want to snuggle up to and fall asleep. The only one I feel safe enough around to let go of those barriers... I don't want reminding that it isn't the same as love. It's the closest I've got, and right now I'm not ready to let go of the illusion.

My head is pounding now from more than just the head cold.
It's not just the longing for comfort that's making it throb, it's the non-verbal lashing my mind is giving me for feeling so weak as to need someone in that capacity.
Putting it like that makes it easier to push to one side.
Warrior Sophia does not need anyone. She is strong, and able, and independent!
For some reason it doesn't totally dispel the illusion, but the meaning behind it shifts in that subtle way, back to just friends. It's strange how it does that. I don't even notice it at times. I'll be with a friend, and I'll suddenly start thinking of them as a friend again - and it's only then that I realise that, for however short a period of time, I'd been assigning a different role to them. Often it's the role of boyfriend/girlfriend (dependant on gender) - but sometimes it's even pushing the terms 'nemesis' or 'challenge' or even a character from one of my novels onto them. As if my mind wanders and reality drifts away slowly, until it shifts back into a real perspective and I see the person again as they are, not just as I view them.

Maybe that doesn't make sense. Maybe it does. Maybe you've experienced it.
Either way, it happens; I glance sideways at my best friend and try to think of him as a boyfriend.
The comfort level is there... and thanks to drunken nights out I know he's a good kisser... he's also rather attractive... but...
I half laugh, half sigh. There's a point of friendship that you go past and past that point you're either friends for life, or you're lovers. We've passed that point, and I can feel it. No matter how attractive he is, and no matter how much of a crush I used to have on him, it's different now.
The reality of him as something other than a friend just doesn't quite compute.

It's right here - right in that moment - that I finally realise this.
Three years of fluctuating between 'we're just friends' and 'I want to marry you' - and they culminate right here, in this second, as I poke around at my own feelings, in a knowledge that we really will be friends forever. It's as if that love and longing has turned into something that's just... eternal.
I shake my head at my own flowery thoughts and return to the pressing issue of my Quest.

Part of me wants to share the revelation with him... but the slow clap I'd get for taking a year to catch up on  what he already knew isn't worth it. It's not like I wasn't being as smart as him - but that's how it'll turn around; because feelings about each other are just not something we talk about. Not without laughing them off, or tucking them under a rug somewhere.

Not to mention part of me is sure this is what's known as a false epiphany.
Give it three weeks and the old cycle is sure to kick in. I know my life, and my hormones.
What's the betting that if I expect the cycle it wont happen, but if I don't it will?
Sod's law SAYS:: it's a definite. All bets are off.

The weirdest part about being Li's friend is how I've never really seen him as... well... human?
You know how some people just seem to glow with an aura that just makes them somehow amazing, or better... it's kinda like that. Almost unreal. Yet he's the realist person I know... does that mean my reality is skewed? Probably.
So it's hard to imagine him failing at anything, or not having everything he wants, or even thinking of him doing bad/wrong things. I mean, I know he does. I'm often there when it happens... but... somehow, it just doesn't sink in?
I mean, come on - he's The Doctor! He's fricken' Superman! (or, Generic Super Hero Man)... everyone know's Dr. Hurt is super-human.

I mean - did you see the lvl 62 spell he just cast?

Okay, maybe we've been spending too much time gaming. Maybe my reality was never stable in the first place. I don't know. Either way, when he says:
"In real life, I'd just cast a spell to do it..."
I have to giggle. It appears I'm not the only one with a skewed perspective on life.


I still have the boy issue to deal with... but it can wait.
There's also the whole insecurity about being unloved to deal with...
but again, it can wait. Exams and Coursework and Dissertations are looming.
Time to concentrate on the work, and let the social life take care of itself.


Blessed Be xx

So you think you're crazy

So, lately I've been feeling a bit crazy... and I may have worked out why...

Over the last week or three many of my friends have been filming for their final year projects, attempting to get as much footage as possible then spending days (and nights) at a time in our Queens Building editing until their brains practically collapsed inwards on themselves while a final file failed to export...

How does this affect me?

Well, several of them required assistance (holding equipment, doing make-up, acting, running around screaming... well, not the last one, but you get the idea) and so, being the non-media-production student I am, and not needing to do my own filming, I offered to help them out.

But what's that got to do with being crazy?

Well!! One friend needed a couple of people to act out a love-story type thing. Naturally, Libor and I were asked to do it. I say naturally - that boy can be coupley with anyone and so can I... but people seem to think of us as some odd couple lately (I guess cause Kaydee isn't around often enough for them to see it's a total three way relationship... without the relationship part... yeah, it's complicated) so there you go. Me and Li, on-screen couple.

Libor and me singing in the park - happy couple scene 1

Now, there's all sorts of reasons that could theoretically have aided my insanity... but there's more - so much more.

The thing with this film was that - though we started out as the perfect couple, something was to go dreadfully wrong. Cue the scary music.
No, he doesn't cheat on me; no, I don't lower his CoD stats or refuse to make him a sandwich... worse - far worse. While I go to the shop for chocolate surprises, he gets stabbed...

Dead Libor - stabbed through the chest with a broken glass

Naturally, I'm devastated...

I mean, just look at all the blood still on my mattress from where he died!!

...and naturally I go insane...

... for instance, drawing in my own blood on the mattress next to his 'blood stain'... of course, on this photo you can see the clear distinction between my dried blood (brown heart) and the still vivid red of the ink that we used as fake blood on Li. Yeah - because of the black sheets I never thought about the white mattress underneath would be just as soaked with the ink... 

... yeaaah, that's pretty darn permanent now... whoops.

 Now, this would be fine. I can pretend to be insane without actually going insane...

But I didn't stop there - oh no! I decided that what we really needed was some props!

my crazy writings

So here we have some of the 'props' that I made. They're mostly just scribblings of repeated phrases like "bring him back" and so forth. The only thing is... I wrote a majority of them while sat in the pub...

Note to self: Best way to make people think you're crazy - write in the pub... 

I don't think you even have to be writing anything as insane as this stuff (which, yes, includes a detailed explanation of how to perform a ritual sacrifice in order to bring a beloved back from the dead...) you just have to do something other than laugh, smoke, drink, talk or watch the TV... it's something to do with social norms I guess - but I was breaking a majority of them. People laughed it off thankfully. I suppose it helped having a friend there, reading it as I went along and laughing saying I looked crazy. 

That's not what's sent me mad(er) either though.

No, no, no! 

Then you take a look at what we did to my room...

We wrote all over my walls in chalk. Mostly using the phrases that I'd coined in the scribbled writings further up, and writing the title of the film in the centre of the wall.  One of the scribblings is part of a line from a song that I actually wrote for Li last year... so maybe it's a bit personal in its craziness...

Sound of broken glass anyone?

This is the remains of a glass that we smashed against the wall. It's also the broken glass that we used as a prop to 'kill Libor' with (hence the blood splattering)...

... it's also the broken glass I used to cut my finger open and draw on the bed with... but that was after smashing it and leaving a beautiful dent mark - as well as a red line of fake blood - in my wall. I really hope I don't get charged for that tbh...

... I haven't thrown it away yet, and I'm not sure why...

...lazy? Me?... naw...

So I went a bit nuts - and am only just getting my room back to some kind of normal. And I think that's what's been pushing me over the edge...

"Crazy? Me?? Nah... Ok maybe a little"

... what you can't see is the white chalk on all my other walls... it doesn't show well on the photo's (see right)

However, a majority of my walls now have some kind of mad scribbling on them.

Now, waking up to that - when you're already kinda unstable - isn't the best of things to do. However, I've been so bogged down with revision for my exam that I've not had time to do more than tidy up the glass and other far-flung items. Which means that I haven't been able to do more than hide the writings behind stuff like my mirror for a few days.

Can you say crazy?

    "Loving you is like breathing;

    I can't live without it, and I can't

    stop it for long - but sometimes

    it can really hurt...

 ... it also doesn't require you

      to love me back -

         - that would just be nice"

 Now the exam is over, I plan on scrubbing the walls clean. It's not just because I'm going insane reading and re-reading my own insane scribblings, it's because I just want this place to be really clean now.

Though, I have to say; the insanity people display by writing on the walls isn't just impounded by the action itself, it's perpetuated by it. I can see that now. The jagged, incoherent words that they surround themselves with acts as a manifestation of their own inner conflict; but instead of removing it from themselves, they only deepen it - allowing it to be cultivated and harboured deeper inside them.

I have to say - if I could recommend one thing to anyone feeling a bit crazy it would be this:

Don't write on your walls - not only is it a pain to clean off, you normally scrape your fingers and hurt them too.

So, that's been my week of madness.
It's been interspersed with constant revision... and by constant I mean several all-nighters pulled both in the library and at home. I was revising up to the second I left the house to go to the exam - and I still feel like I didn't remember any of it.
Fingers crossed I didn't mess up too badly.

Though for some reason, while writing my timed essay in the second half of the exam, I double spaced my entire writing. It was the only way I could concentrate. I'm starting to think that I've written too many essays double spaced in the past - it's as if it's the only way that I can write in continuous prose (unless I'm rambling in a blog of course).

I've also had an awesome cough over the past two weeks.
By awesome, I mean that it sounds as if my entire lung is attempting to force its way out of my throat at times... but all that comes up is (okay... tmi... shutting up!)
No blood though - so it's all okay really.

Now that my exam is over, I'm able to sit back and realise it's the end of term.
Easter time.
My best friend has already left for home. My niece actually asked me today if I was coming home now - which kinda choked me up a little - but I have so much stuff to sort out here first (like my room) and I really want to get a big chunk of my dissertation done ASAP - since it's due in so very very soon.

I'm disappointed in my own poor work efforts this year.
I honestly didn't realise the depression was back in full force - but oh well, nothing left to do now but try and salvage a grade that isn't just a fail (or just a pass - which to me would be kinda failing... since I'm apparently supposed to be getting a first). I think the thing I'm most worried about is what everyone's going to think.
Check me out - the girl who doesn't care about anyone opinion but her own getting worried about what other people will think.
I mean, I can just see it now - the disappointment.
I'll be the first person in my immediate family to finish a degree... I should make it count. I should make it the best degree I can do... not some lame ass - half hearted - lack of attempt that gets me a piece of paper that says "could have done better" at the end of it.
I'm worried my tutors will shake their heads and talk about my 'potential'.
I'm worried my friends will go - Awww, no! Really? that sucks! I suppose it's understandable though...

Too late to worry now though. I'm going to graduate in 3 months time.
Me. Graduate. It seems wrong some how. Like I haven't earned it. Like I haven't done any work. Like it's false, or fake...
Yeah, it's getting me down that I've done so badly this year. I looked over my notes for revision and my first few weeks worth were immaculate. They were in-depth, clear, highlighted... they had notes for extra reading... notes from extra reading... then after a couple weeks it just stops. No more notes. No more anything. I didn't even read the texts.
I suppose my down fall this year was the reading. I just couldn't read the books. Not just read them in time, I just couldn't get myself to actually turn the pages and absorb the information.
Now it's a race against the clock to try and get the minimum done and make it look like more.

I'm not sure why the crazy post turned into one about work. I guess it's on my mind a lot right now.

Either way, there's now a box of chalk sat here, and I'm determined to make everyone sign part of my wall at some point. I'll probably wash my walls then get everyone in to re-decorate them...

      ... then get bored of it again and wash it all off again!!

Yeah, I'm like that. Not in-decisive; oh no, I'm very decisive -just not particularly consistent...

Anyway, I'm going to finish up here and get some well deserved R&R for the night (before starting with the work again in the morning)


Blessed Be xx