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.

 

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.

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?

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.

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.

Brighton.

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

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. 

 

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. 

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? 

Bubble.

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.

Reblog.

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.

A Cliché.

I don't know when it happened, but I've become an absolute cliché. Overnight, I've become that gushingly romantic girl that talks about her boyfriend non-stop. I'm the girl who sits and writes blogs about him, and writes indirect facebook and twitter statuses about him, but I have never before ever felt so in love. I adore every inch of this boy. From the tip of his head, to the end of his foot. I could sit and stare at him for hours on end, and not get bored. I could count the freckles on his nose, and trace the shape of his shoulders with my finger tips. He is literally the first thing I think of when I wake up, and the last thing on my mind before sleep. When I'm with him, I fall asleep pressed up against him. And when I'm not, I miss his so much it kind of hurts.

And every single time I tell him I love him, I can't quite believe how lucky I am. 

The Help.

I've just watched The Help, and firstly, I'd like to express to whoever is reading this what an amazing film it is. I started reading the book on my Kindle, but put it to the side and forgot about it. But today, I bought the actual book, and decided to get back into it, and the film is absolutely amazing, but so sad, and tragic. 

You know, I have strong views, and when I think back to my ancestors who fought for women to have a voice, I feel a sense of achievement that I have my own voice. Too many women are afraid to stand up for what they believe in, even in the twenty first century. They stay with men who make them feel low, and unattractive. They let their boyfriends, or husbands cheat on them, and then they take them back. Far too many people are scared to take a stand, and tell these people that are no good to keep one foot in front of the other, and walk out of their lives! And sometimes, I feel that my stubbornness is a bad quality. When I think I'm right, I'm determined to show that to people. And when I feel strongly for something, I'm passionate about it to the point of being arrogant. And if somebody I loved was to stand in front of me and admit to infidelity after telling me that he loved me, then I'd tell him to turn around, and walk right out of my life. But now I realise those attributes aren't bad qualities to have. I'm not a doormat, and nor will I be treated like one. And I have my own opinion, and I'm free to express that. And I will do. 

But when I look back at the times, not that long ago, when black and white people were segregated, it makes me feel sick to the pit of my stomach. What single minded idiot woke up one day and decided that he was better than a black person? What made that person feel like they had the right to belittle someone of a different ethnicity? Because I would like to go back in time and meet that person, and tell them exactly what I think of their ignorant attitude. 

There is so excuse for racism. I don't give a damn that somebody got shot and their killer was black. Or that someone was mugged, and the attacker was black. There is just as much violence caused by white people as there is black, and their race has not a damn thing to do with their actions. People are equal. Whether they're white, black, chinese, indian, whatever! Aside from their skin, they're born with exactly the same limbs, and organs. We all breathe and same, and eat the same way, and we all shit and piss in the same way. So WHO are YOU to decide that you're better than a person? Just the fact that you're judgemental is enough to showcase that how wrong you are. 

It really sickens me that during the race divide, black people were branded ‘niggas’, and ‘negros’. And that they had to go through separate doors, and use different toilets. That they weren't good enough to socialise with, but were good enough to be left along with their children? It doesn't make sense, and it truly disgusts me that people could be treated so poorly. It makes me so angry that the colour of a person’s skin can affect their whole entire lives. And to any person that is racist, I want you to understand that you're the kinds of people that the world really doesn't need. 

So Simple, So True.

Last night, through tears and tantrums, he said those words to me. The words that every girl wishes to hear at least once in her lifetime, and from someone they care about, too.

"You're the one."

I didn't reply. Not because I was crying, or because I don't feel the same. Not even because I was absorbing the anormity of the words he had just said to me. But because I was suddenly hit with this overwhelming force of emotion because I knew there and then that he's the one, too. 

Dear, Future;

You know, one thing that has surprised me a lot this year, and it’s the fact I've realised I can't wait to be a mum. Before, life to me was about money, and having a career, and not even considering having children until I’m in the midst of my thirties, and my eggs are practically on the brink of extinction. But I find that I crave that now, that family. I'm not saying I'm ready to meet you now, because I’m really not. There's still so much that I need to do, and see before I dedicate the rest of my life to you. To being there for you, every second of every single day. But I do know that I look forward to that time in my life now. 

At the moment, I'm going through a pretty hard time. But you need to know that that's just life. It's not an easy ride, and if you were to ever go through life without feeling anger, or pain, or being upset then you're not really alive, or living. Because its those difficult times, and those emotions that you feel that then define you. They make you a stronger person, and you're able to learn from them. Those hard times are fundamental to life because they enable you to grow from them, and its during those moments that you realise not only your worth, but the types of people you want to let into your life. 

I'm with a guy named Jack at the moment, Jack Edney, and I can single handedly tell you that he is the love of my life. I hope that he becomes not only my husband one day, but the father to you. He's so kind, and he's funny, and when I look at him my heart absolutely melts because I can never quite believe he's all mine. And for the first time in my life, I know he's as scared to lose me as I am him. I've dated a few boys, and all have hurt me, and played games, and most likely cheated. And it took being screwed around by those boys for me to really appreciate how special, and unique Jack is. And he really is, and I don't believe in God but I thank someone, somewhere every day that he came into my life. 

My generation is obsessed with social networking sights. At first, it was all about myspace.com, and now its facebook, and Twitter, and tumblr. People criticise us for using them so much, but I like being able to look back on my life, at my statuses, and the quotes I shared with everyone. But more than that, I have my blog. This blog that you'll someday read, hopefully, and you'll be able to read back over my life, over the times when  I was really happy, or the times when I was heart broken and hurting. You can read it all, and get a glimpse into what my life’s like at this current moment, or before, and even in the next few years. I'll write about it all, and its all for you.

I have no idea what you'll look like, or even really what you'll be called. I used to be positive if you were a girl it'd be Ivy, but I'll explain to you one day why it'll never be that name. At the moment I love Marley, or Sofia. And if you're a boy, I really like Noah, or Nathaniel. But Jack's positive if he has a boy, it'll be Harry. So I guess we'll have to see . . . but if you're a girl, or a boy, it doesn't matter. There might even be two or three of you reading this now, and if there is, I love you all. And this is me, at twenty one telling you however many years into the future that you'll continue to be so loved for the rest of your lives. That I'll be here for you, without judgement to listen and help with any problem you find yourself in. My mum has always been here for me, no matter what situations I've gotten myself into, and she's never judged me, and I'm going to be exactly the same with you all.

I want you to know that its okay to make mistakes. Date the wrong people, get so drunk you throw up and vow never to drink again, until the following week when you find yourself in exactly the same situation. Get the bestgrades you can at school, and then find a career that you'll enjoy, not just something that'll make you a lot of money, because you have to enjoy work, that's one thing I do know from working endlessly in a job I hate just to fund my shoe addiction. Travel, you know, see the world. England will be home, but its just a small part of what makes up the world, and there are places out there so beautiful, it'll be a shame for you to never visit them.

So here it is, my life, I guess. And I'm sure there's a lot more to come after this blog. I hope so.

Until we meet in the future, all my love,

- Your mum x

20 Days.

In just twenty days, it'll be a new month. And an entirely new year. And I can't wait. Sometimes, we're sad to leave a year behind, especially one that has held good memories, ones that will stay with us for the rest of our lives. But sometimes, something can happen to wipe out all of those memories, and you're left wanting nothing more than a fresh start. 

This year has held some good times for me, it has. For starters, I went to Elounda in Greece with my nan, and was shown around the place that is essentially her second home. The same little island that she's been visiting for years, and meeting all of those friends she's made out there, and its an experience I will never forget. And I can't wait to go back next year, and see more of Elounda, and to meet those people again.
I also met my boyfriend this year. Although I've known him for a while, we got closer this year, 
and I never would have thought he'd become this person in my life that means as much as he does to me. You see, that's the crazy thing about life. We can see a person in a fleeting moment, or even day in, day out, and we never really know what the future has in store for us. We don't know that one day, that person will become so important to us. And he is important to me. Not just because hes been here for me during one of the toughest times on my life, but because he's the epitome of the perfect boyfriend. And for the first time, I've met someone so special, who in return makes me feel so loved, and adored, and special, too, and I just know he's a keeper. I'd be content to spend the rest of my life alongside him, because it doesn't get any better than it does with him. 

But despite the good times, and there's been many more, I have this hole in my life. A void. One that is missing, and its that dominating male role that I guess I crave. I don't have a granddad, and I no longer have a dad, and I think I just want that male figure in my life. You know, the burly male who gives big, bear hugs, and cheers you up. And I've never really had that. And since my dad left, it feels as though I need it now, more than I ever did before. And it's sad to feel like something fundemental is missing in your life, something you can't just create, or buy.Something that can't easily be replaced by any old person. And I'm not sure that hole ever does get filled, or goes away. You just learn to live without it. And I know that I will. Every day I get stronger, but sometimes you can't help cut cave in and let the cravings take over.

But sometimes out year holds painful memories for us, ones that we hope to one day, not forget, but allow ourselves to look back on, and take stength from, notfind ourselves feeling broken, or hurt anymore. And I want that. I want to go into the new year and forget the people in the past who've literally broken me apart. I don't need those people in my life. Its hard, I know that. And its painful, and it doesn't go away overnight. But I want to take a new attitude into 2012, and now dwell on misery, because life is too short. And one thing I have learnt is that time is so precious. It is the one thing that can't be bought, and I don't want to waste my time on the people who walked away without so much as a glance back. 


So, I'm going to give myself nineteen days. Nineteen days to be angry, or sad. Or cry if I want to cry. I'm going to give in to the emotions, and just let myself feel them. And the next day, as midnight comes and everyone is celebrating the new year being here, I'm going to kiss my boyfriend, and welcome 2012. And as I do so, I'm going to have the biggest smile on my face, because I know that you'll be somewhere with a not so genuine smile on your face because you'll finally realise what you've given up on. And then I'll laugh, because I'm smiling at the fact I don't need you anymore . . . 

Another Depressing Blog.

Its been a while since I've blogged, but my internet was down and everything has been pretty tough lately. For so many weeks, I've been consumed by this anger, and I've lashed out at pretty much every person who loves me. And now here I am, and for the first time I realised that the anger has faded. Its not gone, and I have no doubt that it will return, and when it does, I will feel this surge of hatred for him again. But right now, all I feel is a sense of loss. I feel like I'm grieving the loss of a parent that I've not lost. He just walked away. Just like that. And it kills me. 

 

We all like to think that we're our parents world. Okay, so we fight, and we use teenage angst against them and we moan, and they moan, and its a vicious circle. But under it all, all we can hope is that our parents love us onconditionally, for whatever mistakes we make, that they're there for us any time, any place, any day of the bloody week. So for one of those two people to just wake up one day and walk away from you, well it breaks even the strongest of people. Because how do you cope with that? How do you begin to explain it to yourself in a way that doesn't hurt you? 

I have this ache inside of me, and I just want to cry all of the time. And every time I ache from crying, and my eyes are puffy and I have snot literally covering my face, it doesn't get better. Or easier. It hurt so much more. And what hurts the most is knowing if you really allowed yourself to give in to the pain, and emotion, then who knows how long it could take before the tears stop falling, before you can cry your eyes and move on. Because right now, crying is the only thing that seems to make it okay. 

 

So here I am, having had no contact from my dad, and feeling lost for the first time. I don't know what to do most of the time. I feel so many different emotions, I don't really know what to do. But I do know that with every tear that falls from my eye, I hate you. I don't feel as though you deserve any emotion from me, but I cry because I deserve that release. I deserve to be able to find a way to deal with what you're putting me through. And to any person who ever said tears are a sign a weakness, then you're wrong. I've been strong for so many weeks now, and I still am, but every person has the right to mourn the loss of a person they never thought they'd lose.

iTrust.

I don't know at what point in my life my trust issues became so fucked up, but they are. Freud can sit here, and analyze that due to my dads new casonova status that he affected me, or some could argue it was when my first boyfriend cheated on me, and then I continued to date people who didn't appreciate me until they'd let me go. But during some period in twenty one years of my existance, I lost the ability to trust. And here I am, at the most emotional time in my life so far, and I have this amazing boyfriend by my side. But when did that not become enough? When was it not enough to have everything. A boyfriend who is an open as I am myself about how he feels for me, how much he loves me. He takes care of me, and makes me feel secure, and hes there whenever I need him, I know he is. And yet somewhere, inside, I continue to push, push, push. And its because I'm scared to trust in him, scared that he might take the same route all the men in my life have taken, the exit. Scared that he might wake up one day and realise that I'm not that girl for him. And so I push.  I have every thing I have ever wanted in a guy, and I push him away.

 

And the most fucked up part about it is that deep down, I know I trust him. I know that he means what he says, and that it'd kill him to see me hurt. I know that he's as good as its going to get, because no person could ever compare to him. He's that one in a million guy. And I ask myself again, why the fuck are you so scewed up?

Dear, Sperm Donar;

I woke up today, and I hate you. It's not resentment. I'm not just disapointed in you. Or let down, or angry beyond any form of verbal explanation. Hate. Just one word, one syllable, four letters. And it describes how I feel for you, my own father. The person who half made me. Whose been there every single day since I was born. The person who fucking up and left without explanation, leaving behind him nothing but a string of lies, and hurt. And that is the only emotion I feel for you. It's taken over the huge resentment I felt for you before, and overwiped any love that I still had for you, and now all I feel is hate. 

I hate you for every single thing you ever done to hurt us. For so many years, I felt this bubbling anger, and at times it felt like it would consume me. I'd lash out, and snap, and get annoyed over such stupid things, and now when I look back I know that its because a part of me knew. It knew you were a shitty person. It knew you were doing stuff to betray mum, and me and Matt, your family, your own flesh and blood. I've had to live with your lies, lying to myself and acting like you weren't that shady person for so long, and I took it all on. And I hate you for that.

I hate the person you are. I hate you for having such a good family and throwing it away for absolutely nothing. And most of all, I hate you because I no longer have a father.