Friday, 22 May 2015

please play a different game

I am a teenage girl, and so some may say it was inevitable that sooner or later a post would crop up about boys. Well, consider it cropped my dear readers, and welcome to my whimsical whine.

I have been played, and quite honestly, it's shit. Going from talking to someone virtually every day to the point where if it wasn’t for social media I would be questioning if they’re still alive, is not fun. Being called the wrong name and being confused for another girl you are talking to, is not fun. You, my dear sir, are not fun. For the sake of this post, I shall call the mystery man Richard. Because the nickname for Richard suits you and your personality pretty damn well.

Yes, I will miss our night-time cuddles in front of the television, and the way in which you could make me feel as if you were the only person who understood me. I will miss the excitement when we found something else we both had in common, a love we both shared, making me feel like it was you and me against the whole mad world. I will not miss the confident wandering hands, despite the constant no's, or the mood swings, or the indirect tweets about me from your friends. The snide remarks and my feeling obliged to put you first, when other things were a lot more important. Being called “thirsty”, “needy”, “clingy” and “desperate” just because I’m not afraid to ask how your day has been and try to help wherever I can. For being a nice person.

I'm not a needy person, but I need to know when someone's serious and when someone's just playing. I’m not desperate, I’m just desperate to know who I can really trust and who is just talking to me for the sake of it, using me and filling my head with fickle fantasies and nonsense. I’m guess I’m just horribly human, and I’m fed up of apologising for that.

I hate the fact that because of you, whenever I hear my phone buzz or the doorbell ring, I think it's you asking me how I am or wanting to apologise. I hate the fact that if you were to do one of these things, I am likely to go running back into your comforting, overly large arms and completely forget how I am feeling right now. How I keep finding myself checking your Twitter or Facebook like a crazy person to see if you've put anything about mistakes or missing me, only to see that you're just posing and flirting with other girls, the same girls you’ve told me in the past are 'just friends'. I hate the moment when the reality hit me that I’m just another one of these girls, the way that my stomach dropped and my eyes pricked, because you’re a prodigious pompous prick. I hate the fact that I keep thinking over the time that we spent together and realising that we never agreed to be exclusive, never really agreed anything, and therefore, what you did and continue to do isn't technically wrong. It isn't wrong, but it's still shit.

Playing with people's feelings is wrong, though. Toying with their hopes and constantly telling someone that they live their life life badly, is wrong. Telling me that I’m too heavy, when you know I’m incredibly self-conscious, is wrong. Criticising me for the little things, for the way I talk, is wrong. Completely ignoring me when I finally say that I don't feel happy with a situation and instead going out and getting drunk with a group of girls younger than you, is wrong, and so is getting them to send me selfies of you together. It's wrong and it's shit. You're wrong and you're shit. Richard, darling Dick, you’re shit.

I've had enough. Enough of the talk and joyless jokes behind my back, your constant demand and need for attention yet neglect of mine. Only talking to me when it suits you. Making me feel like I’ve done something wrong and passing off anything crude as a ‘banter’. The casual cruelness in which you ignore what I want, just so you can present and project your ideals and desires. 

I am done. Done. The world is my oyster and all that jazz. You're just a teeny tiny bit of algae and one day you're going to get bitten by a shark.

I’m not going to cut you out of my life, because I am a nice person. If I see you in the street or at a party, I’m not going to ignore you or start walking the other way, because I’m a nice person. If I were to do any of these things, after all, I would be just as bad as you. We may even end up remaining friends, who knows – because I am a nice person. The only thing I’m sure of is that I’m not going to go out of my way anymore to ensure that you’re happy. Because, thanks to you, I’ve realised that I am my number one priority, and I am fabulous.

The glorious Khloe Kardashian once said “the best form of revenge is a good body”. So that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to improve myself, my body and my mind. Make my life better, not because of you, but for me. The fact that I may be posting more on social media however, is most definitely to ensure that you realise I don’t need you. Accidental snapchat to show that I’m having a lot of fun and looking fabulous? Whoopsie - “Sorry, wrong person! J

And so, I hope when you see that tanned, toned and terribly happy girl in a few months’ time you think about how you once made her feel, and seriously reconsider how you treat girls. What you do is not big, it’s not clever, and it’s not cool.

So thank you, Richard. Thank you for making me see that I'm worth something, either through your empty compliments, or through me finding out that I deserve better. Thank you for providing me with the motivation to make my life better, to make ME better.

I’m not bitter, I’m just better.

Better than you, and better without you.

Unicorns are better

Friday, 13 February 2015

a page of poetry

I heard a poem by Emily Dickinson recently, and I would like to share it. I honestly consider it to be beautiful.

Sunday, 18 January 2015

my life a year after losing you.

This time last year was probably one of the hardest times of my life. In the past month, I had already attended three funerals – and tomorrow I was to learn of another death of somebody that I knew.

This person was a girl I knew only by her name and face – our only connection being through singing in the same choir, yet has motivated and changed my life in so many ways I cannot quite believe it true.

My great uncle died alone during autumn last year, alone, on his bathroom floor. He had no central heating, and his house was filled with damp and photographs.

He had no one to care for, yet he was one of the kindest souls I ever knew. He always made such an effort whenever he saw the rest of our family and made so many sacrifices. He sold his house when my Grandad needed surgery and care after heart problems – heart problems of which the coroner thought he also passed away from. Luckily, an old school friend who is a local landlord brought the house and allowed him to stay there for a very small amount of rent on the condition that he could renovate and rent the house after his passing, or if my uncle wanted to move prior to this. No one in my family, or the landlord, had been inside this house in over thirty years.

The calendars and papers in his house were all dated for November 12th, and in his drawers we found Christmas cards written in a shaky hand for my cousins and sister – mine, simply with “REBE” at the top.

He was found on the 5th of December.

It breaks my heart to think of the pain he must have been in, and the fact that he didn’t ask for help. The fact that it took nearly a month to discover him, and that in his last days he still thought and found the strength to write Christmas cards for us.

Certain members of my family argued about tedious things and money – who gets his car? What about that lovely old record player? And I just distracted myself. I worked. I did my coursework and I got a Christmas job. I did what I always do, and still do today – and blocked it out, ignored it as if that would make it all go away.

I think that this is why, when the fourth death came; I struggled.

She was a year younger than me and had her whole life ahead of her, and she was taken by Meningitis – a virus that doesn’t care who it is attacking.

She was kind, beautiful, clever, musical, and worshipped.

This time, I didn’t have the extreme personal connection that I had with my great uncle. I didn’t have all of the memories to remember, I just had the feeling of sadness which was among my school and friends that knew her. The whole community came together and to date, twenty two thousand pounds has been raised for Meningitis charities in her memory. I think part of the reason why I was so effected by her death was because there were no distractions, and I used this opportunity to grieve for all of the deaths in the past month of people that had played some part in my life – causing it to be one of the hardest, saddest, and darkest times in my life to date. The fact that this cruel death happened to someone so full of life and potential was something else that shocked me to the core. She was doing her mocks for her GCSE’s, and, thinking that she merely had a cold, left the house one morning to never return there. She was taken to hospital from school in an ambulance on the Friday, and after many apparent blunders, was moved to the ICU at another hospital, and died on the Sunday.

I still sometimes cry when I think about her, think about everything she still had to live for. Her expectations, plans, hopes and dreams. I vowed last year that I would start living my life a lot more because she didn’t get to, yet I feel a year on that I haven’t made any of the great improvements I had anticipated. However, I am still here – and it is never too late to make these changes.

The death of someone so young, so similar to me in terms of background, age and history makes me question how people would react if I were to die. Makes me think what people would say. How would I be remembered? Would I be remembered at all? It motivates me, and crushes me at once.

I realise that the tone of this post is cold, sterile and depressive – which I think is because I am finally coming to terms with it, yet I still cannot completely convey this. It has taken me a whole year to put down into words what has happened and to start discussing how I feel. If anybody is reading this – I apologise. This year I am going to make these positive changes – for the people that I have lost, and for myself.

I know there will be tough days – including tomorrow, but I am going to try to find the inner strength to plough on through them. I am determined to make 2015 the very best it can be, and I wish anybody reading this exactly the same – because you deserve it.

Thank you to everyone and anyone who has made my 2014 (and my life so far), the adventure it’s been. I love you – and to those I have lost, I miss you, and I hope you are all dancing up there. I will see you one day and embarrass you with my awful dad dancing.

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