Dear, Grandad.

I think about you a lot, especially lately. I feel like there's this male figure missing in my life, which I know is you. And I envy those that have their grandads in their lives, and I don't know that they ever really know how lucky they are.

You're the one I'm supposed to come to with my problems, and you're not supposed to say a word. Just sit there like you always did, quiet and reserved, yet I'd know you'd be listening to every word. You'd get up, ask me if I wanted a drink or something, and that would be that. That might seem like such a bizarre, and cold conversation to anybody who didn't know you, but some of the best times in my childhood were when I'd come and visit you and nan, and you would be sat saying nothing, letting me play with your hair, putting in clips and pretending to spray you with perfume.

And more than anything, I want to know what you think. I want to know if you're proud of me, if you think that all my dreams will come true, if I can make them all come true. I want to know you approve of the guys I'm with, to think that they're good enough to be with me, your granddaughter. I want you to see us all now, to see how much we've changed over the years, how Samantha's expecting her first baby, how Matt's going to Thailand in just under two weeks, for two whole months. I want to know what you think of the way Nan is now that you've gone. The day that you died, I think something went out inside of her, too. She's not the same, she lives in misery more than she does love, and joy, and she rarely laughs anymore. I try, I want you to know that. I try and make her laugh, and smile, and when we went Greece together, I think she liked having me there. I go round and just sit with her, watching yet another animal programme when I'd rather be watching Snog, Marry, Avoid, because I like the way she talks all the way through it to me, telling me facts. She talks about you a lot, too. I don't think she talks about anything as avidly, or with as much animation as she does the past, and that's how I know that the pass, the life she spent with you, are the times that made her life here worthwhile. You know, she lights up. And I listen to the same stories, sometimes two, three, maybe four times, and each time I listen, because once she's gone, who do I have to tell me that stuff?

Sometimes I wish that when I walk through her door, that you'd be there, sitting in the same old chair, watching the TV in the same old position; legs bent up on the stool in front. I want to adsorb every single microscopic detail of your face. Why did I never do that before? Why did I never stop still and just look at you?

And I wish you were here for me, too. I'm so angry at the fact you got taken from us before the times when we were independent enough to do these things, like taking you out for lunch, or taking you to see the film you fancy. Or to just be able to go for a walk with you. 

I was just six, maybe seven when you were taken from life, and I don't remember mourning much. I was naive, I guess. Being young enough to pretend that everything was okay when it wasn't. But now, here I am, twenty one years old and missing you more than ever. And I can't lie to myself, and pretend that I don't still miss you, because I do. And I can't comfort myself in the fact that you're up there, looking down on me, because I don't even believe in God. And even if I did, I can't seek comfort in knowing you're somewhere above, looking down on me, because I'm selfish enough to wish you wasn't there, that you'd never gotten sick, and that you were here right now, and I wouldn't be writing this. 

I guess the one thing life has taught me, is that its never fair. The people we love get taken from us, and sick, evil and twisted people around the world live to old ages, when they don't deserve life.

And for that, I'm sorry. 

 I love you, and live with the hope that one day, somehow, I'll see you again . . .

- Lo x

Two Words Say It All.

If I could preach just two words to people out there, then it'd be these two. Without belief, you don't give other people the ability to believe in you.

So, believe in yourself.
Believe in your talents, your dreams.
Believe in true love.

Believe that everything will one day work out. 

Just . . . believe in something.

The Fear of Falling.

You know that saying, that sometimes people find us in the most unexpected ways. A person we may have known for a while, or perhaps only met that day, they come to us in the times we don't expect, or we're not looking. Well, its true. 

I went out last night with somebody I've known for a while, admittedly I've always had a thing for him, but I was never sure whether it was reciprocated, so I never acted on it. But lately, we've talked pretty much every day, and I wonder why it never happened sooner. For that, there's no real answer, but for the first time in what seems like my twenty one years of existence, I've never been so scared to mess up.

"It's like once you've been hurt, you're so scared to get attached again. Like you have this fear that every person you start to like is going to break your heart."

He's not like all them other guys. For one, he's single. The story of my life up until now has been that I always fall for the guy who already has his girl. And I think that a part of that is because, deep down, I know I can never have them, so I don't have to be scared of getting hurt. But I'm at a point now where I can look back and see that my past relationships didn't all fail because I dated such idiotic, poor excuses for men, but because perhaps, I too, messed up at times. 

But now, here I am with this guy who is single and available, who doesn't seem to play games, and when he asks me out, hes asking me out. He's not overly gushing, and neither is he boring, his texts make me smile, and at times laugh, when I sleep he doesn't just zone out and become dead to the world, he reaches out and pulls me towards him. He kisses me randomly on the forehead, the cheek, the mouth. And I can't get enough of him if I'm being blatantly honest.

And go forth, fear.

I'm scared that he will think that I'm not good enough for him. I'm scared that, just like all those other guys, he'll give up, and this will just fizzle out into nothing. And most of all, I'm scared that I'll want more than he's looking for. 

He's everything that, before now, I've not been looking for.
But until this moment, I hadn't realised that what I was previously looking for was all wrong.
He's exactly what I do want. And again, that scares me.

Feelings Words Fail.

Lately, I've been feeling really lost. I think its because University is now at an end, Graduation is nearly here, and I'm still stuck in retail with absolutely no idea where to even start job hunting. And I need to job hunt. My shopping, and tattoo addiction counts on it. 

But there is one thing that I have never been surer of, and that is the fact that I have never wanted somebody as much as I want you. I can't put a solid reason on exactly why, except that you're not really like those other guys. You're different. So different. And seemingly perfect. 


Your girlfriend is one lucky girl. 

I don't think I've ever before been so jealous of a girl I don't even know. 

Behind the Sad Smile.

 I think that sometimes in life, we allow ourselves to dream too much. I'm not talking about the aspirational lifelong dreams in respects to jobs, or becoming a world famous musical icon. I'm referring more to those other types of dreams about how we envision our lives to map out. Who exactly we think that we'll marry, and how he kisses us, touches us, makes love to us. In our head, we've already lived those moments time and time again. Sometimes different scenarios, sometimes the same. Sometimes we alter it slightly.

I think that a person is lying if they say that they'd never had at least that one person who they've mentally dreamt up a life with. Somebody they can't stop talking to, somebody that, just seeing their name alone, gives them butterflies and giddy nerves. It's like they're a tipple, an addiction, and you really can't get enough.

You can't imagine ending up with any other person. 

And I'll guess that if you've felt that, you've also felt that gutting realization feeling, too. That one moment when you realise that you're not her. You're not the one he will choose. The one that will get to see him first thing in the morning when he wakes up, when he gives you a lazy, still sleepy smile. He won't eat breakfast with you in the mornings, he won't even be spoiling you with breakfast in bed on the weekends. You will never kiss him the way you've imagined, and he won't be the one to hold you, or to make you laugh. And one day, he'll have that life with some other girl, and all you can do it watch as he disappears, taking your dream with him.

The Day My Dream Came True.

So, yesterday I turned twenty one. Which is scary in itself, due to the fact that I feel more of an adult than ever before now that I've graduated from University, and it's time to enter the real world.
But enough of that heavy stuff because yesterday, my dream came true and I was gifted with a pair of . . . Christian LouBoutins!!!!

For a few years now, I've lusted, and damn right salivated over all of the shoes on the website, and yesterday I was in actual heaven in the shop. They come in their own red dust bag, and an even small draw string bag containing two extra heels for when they wear down. All encased in a brown box, and I actually can't even begin to explain how sleek the red underneath is!

It was possibly the quickest I was to ever spend £635, but I mean it when I say they were worth every singular penny.

It is fair to say that I am in love, and here are my beauts . . .

- Lo x

My Best Reads.

The Last Song; Nicholas Sparks.

Its been a while since a book truly made me cry, and by the end of The Last Song I was physically sobbing my heart out. Its a book that many ages can enjoy, and also relate to. Ronnie has teenage angst that almost everyone has, or will experience in life, and the gradual development of the relationship between Ronnie and her father that progresses is really touching. By far, Nicholas Sparks's best book. 

Water for Elephants; Sara Gruen.

When I first started reading Water for Elephants, I was dubious and unsure of what to expect. But a few chapters in, and those initial reservations were completely thrown away as I could not put this put down. I know the film was made into a film, and whilst the film is a good film, I urge anyone to read the book, too, because it captivates you. 

Perfect Chemistry; Simone Elkeles.

A love story with a realistic, modern edge. After reading this book I forced it on my brother to read, and he was addicted to it, too. At the center of the story, its about love. But the fact that the two characters, Brittany and Alex, are so different, from different lives, different life styles, it just compels you.

Pictures of Lily; Paige Toon.

Paige Toon is one of those authors that you just buy their book, without hesitation. Every one of her five books have had the same effect on me, and each time, I seem to read them quicker than the last. If I had to pick just one, then that would be Pictures of Lily, simply because it was different from a lot of the chick-lit books I'd read for a while, and was a refreshing change. 

Twilight; Stephenie Meyer.

It will sound like a cliche that Twilight features on my best reads, but I can honestly say that I was a huge fan of the Stephenie Meyer books a long time before they were being made into movies, and the whole world suddenly jumped aboard the bandwagon. The thing I loved most about these books are the relationships between Bella and Edward, and then Bella and Jacob because they're kind of like this metaphor for life. There will always be people you like, and others that you love, and then they'll be some people you just can't live without. 

Memoirs of a Geisha; Arthur Golden.

Memoirs of a Geisha was one of the first books I read that was different. Up until then I'd read Jacqueline Wilson books growing up, and then  progressed onto Sophie Kinsella, and other rom-com type books. But when I bought Memoirs of a Geisha, my attention was well and truly caught up in this book, and I could not stop reading. The film adaptation is a film I also enjoy, but as with many adaptations from a book to the cinematic world, it didn't quite do the book justice. I felt it skimmed the book, but lacked a lot of the emotion built up. So if you ever have the chance, read this book.