Letting go

I think sometimes it’s hard to realise why you do something, or don’t do something as the case is. Lately I’ve stopped caring, stopped meeting my university deadlines and stopped budgeting. I was questioning why I suddenly didn’t care about things that used to be important, why I wasn’t stressed and crying over the fact I would probably fail second year and why my lack of funds wasn’t stopping me splashing out on unnecessary things. I’ve realised why. What does my university assignments matter if I have no intention of seeing out the year? What does money matter to someone no longer here? 

I’m not sure when, but I know in my head I’ve made the decision that this is it. I’m done. I’m ready for this to be over. I’ve battled with the guilt of what it will do to others and decided I can’t live for someone else. I’ve struggled with the fact that I know people are fighting for their lives everyday and here I am ready to let go of mine so easily.. I just want the feelings to stop. 

When I drive my car all I think about is putting my foot down and closing my eyes. When I walk across bridges I have to drag myself away from the edge and it’s temptation. Every time I’m alone I cry because I know what I want to do but know it will hurt others. I practice tying knots, I comb the Internet for ideas and information. I’m ready for this, ready for it all to stop. 

I’m sorry but I know what I want and with every breath I know this isn’t it. 

I’m not writing this for advice or for any reason other than I need to let the words out. They’ve tumbled onto the page as a mish-mash of feelings and thoughts, unpolished and unedited. Welcome to my brain. 


She’s got a boyfriend anyway..


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Writing is probably the only way I know how to deal with my stress; well the only way that isn’t self-destructive. So forgive me for always ranting about something or other. I like to think of it as a cleanse for my thoughts. I feel like I’m swimming in cotton wool laced with broken glass in my head right now. So I thought I’d write:


How do we ever know we made the right choice? Can we ever know? If I’m not sure does that I mean I haven’t? I have doubts all of the time.

Am I with the right person? Am I wasting my time and his? Will I ever really know happiness?

These poisonous questions infect my being. They get right into my blood until it’s all I can think. Sometimes I wonder if it’s all just too safe… I want some spontaneity, some excitement.  I want to feel like he really loves me, that he isn’t just settling because it’s the easy thing, the safe thing to do. I want to know that I really love him too. Because sometimes I’m not sure. He makes me feel like I’m not good enough, not by anything he says or does rather by what he doesn’t.

I see him looking at me and know I’m lacking.

I’m messed up, my thoughts don’t always let me know what I really think. Throwing in fake thoughts every few days that flood me and I get lost in the maze.

Sometimes I look at myself and I know I’m pretty average, nothing too awful at least. But then others it hurts to look in the mirror, the thought of dressing and going outside where others can see me breaks me. I cry, salt-filled desperation streaks my face. Right in that moment I know what I want, I want to disappear. How do I come back from this? I hurt myself. Nothing serious; a bruise and scratch here or there is easily explained away.

Sometimes when I feel vacant, in a total void I research the things my brain normally doesn’t let me acknowledge. I form plans of how easy it would be. I know the best ways. I practise tying knots.

My dreams are infiltrated, I can’t hide there. He cheats all of the time. He laughs in my face, smug. He looks at me with disgust, I’m not good enough. I run from it. Terror. I bleed out, finally at peace as the candles flicker in my created paradise.

The power of alcohol is amazing, the highs, the lows. To drink when I feel like this is a mistake, I know that. But I want to anyway. I drink so much I can’t think. I forget myself, instead I’m confident, funny and sexy. Or at least I try to pretend. The way I feel when I’m drunk is amazing. I feel powerful and in control when really I’m anything but. The comedown, the hangover, the leftover poison making my head a nightmarish place is worth it.

I want him to feel like he’s happy with me and not just waiting for me to be more or better or something. I want to have certainty and know I’m in the right place. This is where I should be, who I should be with… is that too much to ask? Why is it that when somebody else compliments me it means so much more than when he does? I feel like he’s lying. He’s saying it out of duty. I don’t even think he ever really sees me. I just want him to look at me and get it. Get why I care, get what I need.


I don’t think he’ll ever get it.


Can’t stop the bleeding..

Is there a worse feeling than the person you’re in love with, leaving? The person you pictured your future with, giving up on you? How about when he says he really loves you, begs you to believe him but in the next breath he’s saying he can’t do it. He can’t be with you anymore. “It’s too hard.” 
So the last few months have been a hard slog, I’ve been diagnosed with depression and put on some serious tablets to try and help, unfortunately these tablets aren’t miracle workers and I’m not fixed yet. My moods are all over and sometimes I can’t get out of bed or motivate myself to even be present in the moment. Isn’t it just easier to be vacant sometimes? 

Life has pushed me to breaking, I’m dancing on the edge, flirting with the temptation of giving in, ending everything. 

But for everyone else, I don’t. I think how me giving up would affect my family, my friends and most importantly I cared how it would affect my boyfriend. I fought back. I went and asked for help. 

Now, I’m being told, that’s not good enough. It’s too hard for him, for the man who claims he loves me, to deal with me having depression. He’s leaving me. Right as things started to get better I feel like he’s pushed me with two hands off the edge. Spiralling down to the bottom. I’m waiting for the impending crash, the break. I’m not, we’re not, worth fighting for to him.
I think a little piece of me will never truly recover from this.
I know it’s my fault. If I wasn’t broken…he’d still want me. 
My depression has ruined it.
I’m ready for this to stop hurting now. 

I’m ready to give up

The struggle is real…

Insomnia sufferers I’m calling you!

I’m getting lost in my mind at night and I just can’t sleep. I need help. It’s happened before and I used deep breathing exercises and overcame it but now that won’t work. I need suggestions! I’ve looked online and I’m trying to incorporate the suggestions on there. I can’t regulate my sleep-wake cycle because of my job and university clashing, so that’s a no go. I’ve tried to not use my electronics for half an hour before bed without any success. I’m running out of ideas.

When it comes to sleeping, I can be exhausted, absolutely shattered and then, wham! Just like that, sleep is out of the question. My mind runs riot! Everything is fighting for my attention and forcing my mind to stay awake. A dark sea of thrashing ideas is keeping me awake…

The little sleep I do manage to steal is haunted by nightmares which keeps me tossing and turning enough to ensure when I do wake I feel even worse than when I went to bed. So then I turn to caffeine,which keeps me awake just long enough to get through the day; add some matchsticks to keep the peepers open for any particularly boring lectures and then we can repeat the cycle again.

I need help.

My lack of sleep is affecting things in my everyday life, I can’t focus, just the other day I nearly crashed my car three times in a 20 minute drive because my brain just wasn’t functioning as it should be. Yesterday I forgot to eat because my craving for sleep pushed all other needs out. I’m heading for a crash and I don’t know how to fix it. Any suggestions?



I’m the opposite of moderate.

I awoke still hazy. The power rush remained, surging round in my head. My memory blurred, the edges fizzed and I knew it would take a little longer before I could piece it all together. Ezra stirred next to me, his fingers traced lazy circles on my exposed shoulder, awakening my senses, bringing me back to the surface. The taste still lingered in my mouth, gin and that something extra; that something I lived for. Lust.

Just a starting paragraph for one of my stories….

Feedback would be great!

Back to blogging.

So I’ve been away….

When you add: 40 days, 10 countries, 24 cities, 50 trains, 4 buses, 1 ferry, 4 sleepless nights, 4 guided tours, 3 storms, 1 pickpocket scare, 4 currencies, 3 brides, 1 16kg backpack, more than 2000 photos and 1 best friend you end up with one unforgettable time and a million memories!

But the summer is truly over, I’ve settled back into the routine of uni and fitting everything else around it and I think it is beyond time that I get back to blogging. I’m excited to write and to read my fellow blogger’s posts!

Watch this space guys.

Holiday holiday holiday

This is the first bit of activity on my blog for a while, apologies!

However I couldn’t think of a more fitting time to announce (gloat!) than early Monday morning that I’m off on my jolly holidays! 

Travelling on a bus at this hour is far from ideal on any occasion apart from when it’s to an airport! Excitement overload so prepare for holiday fuelled posts, boasting about how beautiful the Dominican Republic is and how amazing the wedding I’ll be attending is. Prepare for pure jealousy to rush through your very being and boil totally over.

Short post but you’ll get frequent updates! Hopefully you are able to enjoy some sunshine and relaxation of your own over the next weeks while I gush and revel in how lovely everything is! 

Drowning in misery.

Sometimes I have my finger firmly pressed on the self-destruct button. I know it, but I’m helpless to resist the deadly charm it has. I fight and try to release the trigger but just result in pressing harder and hurtling towards the deep, dark depths of my depression filled mind faster and faster. Blindly fighting it and trying to drag myself back to the surface, gasping for each breath and trying to force the positivity back into my life just doesn’t work, it’s like I’m swimming against the current and it’s determined to turn my confused splashing into resignation, allowing the seemingly inevitable drowning. 
Then it slides into place. I somehow understand why my finger had slipped back onto the trusty self-destruct button and just like that I’m ready to stop. I can release it as easy as that. Just stop. Just make the changes to fix what was upsetting me and then I’m back. I’m soaring above the dark and nasty thoughts. Below they lurk, they swim like sharks, circling beneath me just waiting for the next slip. They know as sure as I do that it will come. They’re waiting to engulf me again. All I hope is that it’s not too soon. 

Just dance like you’re disappointed in the world..

New start, new story, new chapter… Or how about the same old shit? We can label it however we want but really that’s what it is. 

So maybe today is just a bad day? The last week we’ve argued loads but it’s just a one off… I feel myself clinging to these mantras repeatedly lately. 

I’m not ready to admit that this isn’t going to work, I’m still willing to put all the blame on any outside stressor I can. But I don’t know how long that will cut it. 

So today I’m letting go of the hurt that my own boyfriend doesn’t want to share experiences with me, I’m swallowing the tears that threaten with every breath and I’m holding my head up like it doesn’t feel as though the whole world is against me. Can tomorrow just be a little better please?

“Silence is more expressive than language”


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Just a short piece of writing done for uni:

An expression can say so much, and yours had said it all. The words tumbled from your lips, “I love you.” The familiarity was there, the warmth was not. I had seen it on your face and in everything you didn’t say. You kissed me. I tried for more but you pulled back with a tight smile. The fiery light that used to dance in your eyes every time you looked at me was fading. It barely flickered. I know that you thought you were hiding it well, but you just could not hide it from me. I had watched you for the last three years, I knew the very thoughts that crawled along inside your head even before you voiced them. The words you were saying meant nothing. I wasn’t listening. I knew you were just telling me what you thought I wanted to hear. Keep her, like an obedient, little puppy, waiting excitedly for her master to return. The drowning silence from me should have told you something was wrong, but you just weren’t listening hard enough to realise.

You placed your warm hand on my arm while spilling more insignificant words, a jumble of cover-ups and lies lacing together like a spider’s web, a web you thought you had me trapped in. I didn’t listen, I didn’t care what stories you were using, I knew what was really going on. As every word flowed from your mouth, I wondered for how long you would keep up the pretence. I could not believe you could not see the pain and suspicion etched into my usually smiling face. How could you not see that I was not buying any of your stories any more?

You were getting ready for work and with every activity I became more certain that you did not love me any more. I wondered how many others there were, how many times had you cheated on me before and just how had I not heard it sooner in the silence that rolled around your fabrications of the truth. As you downed a cup of coffee I could see you thinking about another woman, dreaming of her lips, wanting to press them against your own just like that mug. As you styled your mop of unruly brown hair in the bedroom mirror, I recognised the look of excitement on your face. It was the same look you used to get getting ready for our dates, only now it was saved for someone else.

You stalked out of the apartment without shouting “goodbye” and “see you later on.” I waited for you to come back to rectify this, to say goodbye and pull me into your embrace, saying everything your words could not with your body language. You never, you had not even heard your own silence. The silence that was so loud I could barely stand it. I had already lost you. I knew it in everything you didn’t say.

I dragged myself from the unmade bed, thinking about all the memories we had made there, all of the mornings I had woken up to see you watching me, silently, with a look of adoration etched onto your skin. I showered and tried to sing myself into happiness. It was no use, my happy singing words were no match for the silence you had left behind. I fell back into the silent thoughts stirring through my mind.

You would probably never realise it was the silence and everything you had stopped saying that had give the game away. For every word that spills from your lips, remember the ones you are not saying, those are the ones that show your true nature and motives. Stay silent and you say more than you ever could imagine.