Friday, 11 May 2012

Dear, Grandad;

Isn't that funny? The way you can know a person, be close to a person, claim to know them as well as the creases in the palms of your hand, the blemishes on your skin. But you can never truly know a person one hundred per cent. Know their true weakness, the thing that gets them right there, where it hurts. Where you have no choice but to feel pain, and sadness, and tears come without invite. You can never know what haunts their dreams, both the good and bad kind. Can never really know what goes on inside their heads. 

One thing that I deal with on a daily basis is the loss of my Grandad. I don't think the loss really hit me until a few years ago, but he's always been at the back of my mind. Until last year, I didn't realise the enormity of loss I feel at not having my granddad here, and thats when I knew that I'd perhaps not acknowledged it until now, but the pain has been there since I was a kid, and since he left the world forever. When I was younger, I'd smell the small bottle of aftershave my Nan gave me to keep, and cry. I'd hope his spirit was around me, watching me mourn. It sounds sadistic, but I just wanted him to know that I did miss him. I used to pick those small, white fluffy feathers up from the floor, and tell myself they were his. I don't know what I imagined; my Grandad with two, large fluffy wings attached to his back, shedding precious feathers down onto his loved ones. I was just a kid who needed comfort, so I seeked it in places like that. A few years later, I said things aloud for him to hear. I remember one thing, no doubt after watching something aloong the lines of Most Haunted, and I just said loudly, 'If you're there, just give me a sign! Knock something over!' As though suddenly seeing a chair go flying through the room would make me happy. It would scare the shit out of me. And maybe he knew this.

But here I am, 21 years old, and I need that man in my life more now than ever before. There doesn't seem to be a day that I don't look at his photograph, or pay him a thought. I wish that I could turn back the hands of time, and cure his cancer. How life would be different. How different my Nan would be. And how different my life would be. I have this whole, a void if my like, in my life, and its where my Grandad should be. I need that man to be sat in the living room, one leg perched up on the stool, eyes fixated on the television. I need to see his brown hair, messy and untamed with his thick glasses, more for vision than fashion, obscuring his eyes. I need to just sit in his presence, and enjoy it. I need it to be christmas, and I need to be that child again, watching Wallace & Gromit with the man who said few words, but gave such comfort. I need my Grandad to be here, to fill this hole in my life, and to fix life. 

And yet some people don't even know that I live like this every day. That at some point, I think about him. That I cry because I wish more than anything, that I have my Grandad here in my life. I tried to tell Jack about how I felt, but it seems to come out of nowhere when you just suddenly spring something like that on a person, so now I can see why people mourn in silence. Because if you're not mourning out in the open, publicly, people just assume it comes from attention seeking and such things. People also think that because you go through a loss at such a young age you grow up and, eventually, you get over it. But you don't, it stays with you. And maybe spending so much time with my Nan brought it all back to me. That if she could miss a person in such a strong, and passionate way, day in, day out, then that person had to be incredible. But I know, the day this he took his last breath, a part of me deep down was already mourning him, and it took years for me to go down the roads of pain, and disbelief, hurt and anger to identify that somewhere inside of me, the rage and the pain that I feel sometimes is because someone was took from my life that I needed. And there is no forgiving that.


Monday, 23 April 2012

Insecurity; Emotion of the Strong.

I always wonder why it is we as girls are insecure. People say its because we've been hurt before, you know that we've witnessed first time what it feels like to be hurt, to be played. They say its because we don't have much respect, or confidence in ourselves. But what if its more than that? What if they've got it all wrong? What if its because we're smart girls. What if we feel insecure because we live in the real world. Not some fantasy world where our men aren't Dave, and Steve, but Prince Charming. Where they set off from their castle to find someone to live happy ever after with, and true loves kiss is the promise of that. Yes, maybe we have been hurt, and somewhere inside of us, we're damaged. But thats not why over analyze, replaying words, and actions in our head continuously to make sense of them. We do it because we want to avoid being hurt. We know that our hearts are fragile, so we decipher whether the people trying to win our hearts are truly worthy. So we go to sleep and we think. Our minds never shut off. And its not because we're insecure in ourselves, and we don't think that guy is good enough for us. Its not because we're comparing them to exes, and previous heartache. Its because we know that we deserve the best. And we know this because we have confidence in ourselves. Confidence for our worth.

Monday, 9 April 2012

The One Means Just One.

I like to think of myself a modern day girl. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love an old fashioned love story from back in the day. (Pride Prejudice..ahh, go on, Darce!) I like clothes from many eras, but I'm not defined by just one. I enjoy music, old and yew, you know, I'm not stuck in some crazy time warp. I like to think I don't ask for much (LouBoutins don't count. Shoes are as needed from life as oxygen is to survive), but one thing that here, in 2012, baffles me more than the meaning of the word logistics, is monogamy. For those of you reading this thinking, what does that actually mean? Let me break it down for you as simply as I can. It means you dedicate yourself to one partner, and one partner only. That means you can't drop Steve from work a sex-text when you're drunk and feeling horny. And just because your girlfriends on her period and out of action for, god forbid, 5-7 days, sleeping with that chick you met at the club last weekend does still count as cheating.

WHY can people not stay faithful? And I am directing this to both the male, and female population because woman are just as bad as men. I just think that females are more emotional about it. Listen, I am all for a good time, and I don't believe in labelling a woman a 'slut' just because she dares have the same morals, and couldn't give a fuck attitude as a man. I commend her to have no emotional attachment to sex, and so long as she's having fun and not hurting anybody, I say go for it. You live once, and once only. But I do, however, believe that if you choose to be in a relationship, an engagement, or a marriage, you need to go into it being faithful. 

I've seen too many people in relationships with people that flirt beyond innocence, and cheat behind their back. I've also seen people stay with those people, knowing exactly what they're up to. And I don't want to sit here and say to them that they deserve it to happen if they're turning a blind eye to it. But I'd like to think that they thought that they deserve better than to be with someone like that, because they do. Everyone does. It baffles me how mainly people fail to remain faithful, when they're not forced to be in a relationship. Nobody put a gun to their head, and demanded they update their relationship status. They did that off their own free will, so why do so and cheat? And the sad part of that I see too many statuses on facebook with girls, and guys declaring their love for their boyfriend and girlfriend, and I know that they've been cheated on. So when Chelsea is declaring to the world that Nathan is the love of her life, unaware that he's being noshed off by every girl whose had a bit too much rosé, I feel sad for her, because he's not the love of her life. If he was, then he wouldn't be cheating on her. And I find myself asking, is it too much to ask that people, in 2012, remain faithful?

Friday, 30 March 2012

Rolling Eyes.

Wouldn't it be nice if men kept their eyes firmly in their sockets, and didn't allow them to wander. I may sound old fashioned here, but is it really too much to ask that men don't oggle other women?
 I can't think of anything more disrespectful than seeing a man with his girlfriend
, checking out other girls. I know its not realistic to expect that the person you're with never looks at any other girl ever again. What's the saying? They can look but not touch? If your boyfriend is rolling solo and finds himself checking out another girl, at least you're not there to see it. But when you see it right in front of you? I hate it. I think it shows a lack of respect. I've had a few guys before giving me the up and down whilst their girlfriend is stood by their side, and then they wonder why us girls can turn so jealous, and catty? Men are meant to make their girlfriends feel special, and adored, and though they're not the only females they will ever see again, they should feel like they're the only girl their partner wants to be with. Not feeling like hes checking out what else is on the market as a back up.

So to all you men who think that its acceptable to look at other girls; stop thinking with your dicks, and think with your head, and realise you're lacking respect. Find it, or find yourself on your backside; dumped.

Thursday, 29 March 2012

Pity Party, Bring Cake;

Oh, gawd. Here it is, a pity me post.
Honestly, I have been ill for almost two weeks now. It started off as a sore throat, and then progressed to a cough, which them progressed to be sounding like my balls had finally dropped, and a penis had wiped out my vagina genitalia. And after finally speaking without sounding
like some sort of male-esque Brooke Davis, I now have sore lips that would give both Pete Burns and Jodie Marsh a run for their money.

Sometimes I use a lipstick and I have a reaction. The odd thing is, I never know when. Its not that I'm using cheap brands, I can use the same lipstick every single day, and then one day, out of the blue, BAM! I wake up looking like I had a truck load of collagen. And not the good kind. And this time it was my precious red Rimmel lippy that done the catastrophic damage. I am now going to spend the day in bed, under a duvet smothering on heaps of Vaseline, and sipping substances through a store whilst my boyfriend casts me pitying, yet horrified looks in equal measures. Welcome to love, Mr. You know the saying at weddings? For better, for worst? Yep, well that also goes for relationships, and this is truly the bad.

Also call me a freak, but I do kind of like the volume. Maybe I'll invest in some good collagen. Or maybe just a lip plumper.

Tuesday, 20 March 2012


I've just spent the weekend down Brighton with my boyfriend, Jack. Oh my god, nothing depresses you more than spending the weekend somewhere you'd love to live, then coming home. I adore Brighton, the pier, the pebbly beach (although sand is much better!). The cute little shops along the pier selling anything except a healthy salad, and then theres the little boutiques scattered round the streets.

Our weekend was lovely. When we first arrived, there was a knock at the door, and champagne was bought to our room, compliments of my boyfriend. I'm sad to say that even at £50, it didn't make champagne any more enjoyable, and we only had a glass each before discarding it. Alongside the champers, he'd ordered me gorgeous flowers, and chocolates. We missed dinner friday night, so ended up having McDonalds as we had cinema tickets booked. We watched We Bought a Zoo which was such a good film. We spent saturday night in the town shopping, before going back to our room to get ready for dinner, which was a chinse on a boat that continously kept rocking (all I kept thinking was that the Titanic sunk!). We then walked into town and tried to win a cupcake plushy that I wanted (and after amost £20, no avail in pixcking up one of those suckers!). We spent the evening having a drink, before going back to our room and warming up after getting soaked!

It was just a lovely weekend, spent with the best boyfriend ever.
:) <3

Friday, 2 March 2012

Aloha, Holiday!

I've never been the type to say 'I need a holiday!' I don't work exhausting hours, every day of the week, sleep deprived and living on coffee. I think people think they have the right to claim to deserve a holiday just because they live in the real world, and work. Everyone is entitled to get away and have a little sunshine, a few cocktails and some R&R. But to state that you deserve it when you do what the majority of people around you do day in, day out, it what I deem a little selfish.

On that note, however, I am so looking forward to my holiday in May. I am going back to Elounda in Greece with my Nan for two weeks, but this time my mum and auntie are coming, too. I was looking forward to returning to Elounda with my Nan, but there is only so much time you can deprive yourself of an iPhone because of your techo-prude grandparent before going stir crazy (and slightly derranged from withdrawl symptoms). But I'm so excited to be going away with my mum. I've never gone away with just her, its always been family holidays, and after everything that has happened this year, and the end of last, I'm looking forward to spending some time with her, staying up light for our night gossips, and making yet more memories. 


Thursday, 1 March 2012

Bitch, Please.

It's so weird to think that school is such a huge part of our lives. It's the place we spend a good twelve years in, before choosing to dedicate another five years on top, for college or, A Levels, and University. We see the same people for such a huge amount of time that it becomes routine. But isn't it funny that when we all leave school, we don't talk. Sure, we facebook, and we tweet. But we don't face-to-face meet. People we once claimed to be 'friends' are just numbers on our facebook page. 

And talking about facebook, and Twitter, isn't it pathetic when people use it as a means of directing bitchy comments at people? I first had myspace, and I had it to customise a page about me. So that people could go onto it, see my likes, dislikes, my music taste. Facebook was find of the same, but it became more about informing the world that my vagina was yet again tingling over some new band, or song. But now, when I go onto facebook & Twitter, I just see statuses aimed directly, yet cowardly indirectly at other people. And I find myself wondering, who the fuck in hell gave you that right to sit on the pedistool you've placed yourself onto and cast so much judgement onto other people? It baffles me how people waste their time picking apart other peoples lives, but I guess this is what social networking is morphing into; a virtual battlefield. 

Wednesday, 29 February 2012

Clock of Life.

I never thought broody would be a word to define me at age stage of my life, not until I was on the verge of turning thirty, had a wardrobe full of LouBoutin that could compensate for spending the next decade buying nappies, and clothes, and shoes so small not even my big toe would fit them. 
But I am. I want to have a child, and to be depended on the the rest of my life. I want to watch them grow, feed them that baby goo that looks like reguritated sick, but I hear is actually quite addictive. I want to bake cakes with my children, and take them to the park, spoil them with toys. Don't get me wrong, I don't want all of that at this exact moment in time, not really. If God did a Mary on me and presented my womb with a baby, I would probably cry for nine months straight. I'm not ready for my vagina to be split apart. But it's strange that, as you get older, you want things you didn't before. My goal before University was to graduate, make shit loads of money, and then fritter it away on LouBoutins (investments!) and clothes (kind of investments!). But I want a family. I want to be a mother. My boyfriend once said to me he couldn't imagine not wanting children because that's why he feels we're born. And he's right, we're born with the ability to create life, and carry it inside of us (I think that its a bit Aliens VS Predator!).

Recently, a friend of my boyfriends died. He was just twenty one, the same age that we are, and he died in a car crash. I don't know where he was going, or coming from, but I would bet in those minutes leading up to the accident, and his death, that he didn't expect to die that night. That when he left his house to go out, he expected to go home again, safe and sound. But we never do, do we? We hear of deaths, and tragedies that happen, but somewhere in side of us, we're convinced that bad stuff won't happen to us. Every human being has that belief inside, howeevr small, or big, that they're invincible. But no one is. Life can be taken at literally any second.

And I'm scared of life. Scared of just that; that it can be taken away from any of us at any second. Maybe through a sickness, or through a freak accident, or from another person. You just don't know what's going to happen to you. You like to think you'll live to an old age, and die in your sleep, or something peaceful, and dignified. But when you really think hard, about life, and how precious it is, fear creeps in, because its something you can't buy. When its gone, it's gone. There's no buying it back, or turning back the time. 

And its when something like this happens that I get scared for wanting to be a mother one day. Scared that something will happen to me, that my life will me cut short, and I won't have that. And you can't think like that, I know, but you when someone the same age as you has their life taken away in about five minutes, you can't really stop yourself, can you? 

Friday, 27 January 2012


I feel better. Better than I have in a really long time, which is strange. Sometimes, you just plod along in life and you don't realise that you've lost a part of yourself. You know, your sparkle, or whatever it is you want to call it. And recently, I've been a person I've not liked. I've felt so low, I can't ever imagine feeling lower. I've cried for days, smiled for one, and then cried again, and it felt like those tears wouldn't stop. Like they'd keep falling from my eyes, and I would drown in this wave of pain, and emotion, and it felt like it would never get better. But it did, and it has. And I finally feel happier than I have in a really long time, even before my dad left. I realise now that I was lost for a really long time, and my dad leaving didn't create that lost person. He hurt me, I can't deny that. But I was broken for a long time before he left us, I think he just triggered this depression, but I feel okay. I've let go of the burning anger. I still cry, I don't know if this will stop soon, but now when I cry, its not because I'm hurting, I cry for the memories. I cry for the times that I miss, and will never get back. I cry for the memory of a life when my dad was in my every day life. I cry because I crave those memories, the times when he'd smile and be happy, or we'd watch something together. And more than anything else, I cry for my mum. For the fact that she will never again have those times with my dad that they had before. I cry for the fact the next time we go on holiday as a family, he won't be there. They won't wake up at the crack of dawn, and go along to the beach and have a coffee. My dad will never spoil my mum rotten, treating her to pretty things that she deserves. I will never see my dad in his holiday mode, relaxed and happy, as my mum and him joke around and laugh. And I cry because I crave these moments. I want them back, but they're gone. They'll remain memories, and nothing more. And finally I cry because it's true, so true. You never realise what you had until you no longer have it. And at times, I took my dad for granted, and now he's gone, and I just want him to know I love him.

Saturday, 7 January 2012


The Life's Shit Blues.

I find that the mere word depression is depressing. It's such an ugly word, isn't it? I mean, is there even such a thing as depression? Or is it just that sometimes life is so shit, that we simply just can't pick ourselves up. In which case, it shouldn't be called depression, and instead the-lifes-shit-blues. TLSB for short, of course.

I am at the lowest point of my life. I've never been in such a horrible, dark place before. And I don't know whats wrong. The doctor called it 'acute reaction stress' but that doesn't seem to justify the way I feel. I mean, is it down to the fact my dad up and left? Or did this stem from the fact my life seems to have no meaning at the moment? A few months ago, I had University, and then the prospect of easily finding a job, and making lots of money. And yet here I am, months onwards, and its harder to get a job than I thought. I'm still slaving away in retail for a wage that doesn't allow me the luxury of not worrying about money. Or is it down to the fact I feel a spotty, fat, ugly mess? I have roots spouting out my head because I'm unsure of what colour to dye it next. The scales are actually on my side for once, but I feel fat, which can only be down to the comfort carbs I've been devouring lately. Hello, pot noodles, and chocolate. And as for getting fit, I can barely drag myself out of bed at a decent hour to have breakfast, let alone sweat it out to an 80 minute exercise DVD. And I no longwr have an interest in facebook. Once upon a time, it was my daily source of gossip. The first thing I'd do when I woke up would be to divuldge in my news feed to see what arguments were going down, or who was now in a realtionship, or more seriously, knocked up. The thought alone of deactivating my facebook and being without such constant updates horrified me. Surely you couldn't go cold turkey overnight? Surely there must be a facebook rehab? Well apparently not. And as I confirmed my deactivation, nothing changed. No heart convulsion of sheer shock took over my body. I wasn't short of breath, or having palpitations. I felt nothing.

So, I'm going to go crawl back into my bed, and hibernate underneath my duvet, and listen to Ben Howard, and hope that tomorrow, I feel better.