Day 2 of feeling shit

Today I’m going over things that were talked about last night; about weight, size and attractiveness. I don’t feel very beautiful today. I feel like I need a change of face and body. I feel like I don’t want to be me any more. I’m tired.

I’m perfect as I am, he says. Please don’t put on any more weight, he says. I wonder if he’d love me better looking like someone else. I feel like I could scream at myself but really, I just want to scream at someone. Someone that could change my mind. I feel awful. I don’t understand where all this awfulness is coming from. I wish I could understand better.

I wonder if my mum is free today. I’m sure she’d come and get me if she was. Oh wait, no. She’s not. I’m so lonely. Maybe this is what this is. I think I really will post all of this today. I feel desperate. I don’t really know what else to say. I need something in my life but I don’t know what it is. A life maybe, to begin with. I don’t even know who I am. I’m a mess. I want to be able to enjoy things other people enjoy. It’s like life and everything in it has worn me down so much that I’m just this weak and fragile thing. I don’t even know what I like to do. I don’t have anything in my life that I enjoy. Who the fuck am I!???? I hate it. I hate… I can’t even go in to it.

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Day 1: Cracking Up

I feel stressed. Really fucking stressed. Or rather, distressed. Very distressed. The thought of finding time is always distressing. I can’t function against time. Days aren’t long enough and I’m always tired. I’m tired now as I hurriedly type out this blimin’ paragraph of who knows what. I’m trying to get uni work done, despite having little motivation to do so. The thought of writing something is not even a shadow in my mind. The thought of reading is more objectifiable, but only of Armadale. All my other reading looks relatively dull. Then there’s the pressure that I feel from everyone to get a job, so I decided to go off of my own innovative and become an Avon representative. I’m excited and confident. However, I’m still getting put down for it. As usual, I hear the words: Nothing I ever do is good enough. There are still people trying to push me towards other jobs for the summer. There are still people trying to push me for an answer about what I want to do with my life. I’m lost. I’m always fucking lost. That’s nothing new to me. Then there’s the fact that I’ve been home for nearly three weeks. I have done vary little worth remembering.

I was repeatedly disappointed with the amount of time I got to spend doing things with George. I’m disappointed with how little I saw of my family. I’m disappointed with how little work I have done. However, it’s still a considerable amount more than last Easter, I believe. Although, anything was more than last Easter but I believe I did next to nothing. My nerves are shot and some days I just lie awake hoping for some kind of death to take me. And last night I looked like an absolute idiot, bursting out into tears when George and I were supposed to be going to sleep because of how awful I felt during the day. Feeling like I have no skill, no purpose in this life is awful. I feel absolutely fucking worthless. I don’t want to be a waster. I don’t want my life to be a baron one with nothing worth mentioning in it. George was lovely and comforted me, but even he has prospects. He knows where he wants to go and he’s useful. He’ll earn lots of money and he’ll do what makes him happy, even if I don’t and can’t understand it. He says I’m still learning my trade but no one believes I can do it, no one but him. Or at least I hope he does. I mean, I can’t ever be certain of anything. I’m not a mind reader. I often think that I’m empathetic but I can’t even be sure of my own beliefs. I’m so used to being shot down that I have no confidence in myself and what I can do. ‘Heads in the clouds’, ‘chasing the butterflies and faeries’, I get told. So the moment I come up with ‘real’ suggestions, I get shut down for not having higher hopes. I can’t fucking win in this piece of shit we call life.

I’ve been doing so well. I’ve been happy. I got out with my friends, despite the hideous specimen they still choose to associate themselves with. I still hate her. I hated her two years ago. And I’ll hate her for twenty more. The last thing I need in my life, with all this stress, is a spiteful bitch thinking she claims the time to ‘best friend of the year’. She’s no one’s friend, she’s an asshole. And then she complains and wonders why she has no friends, which in itself is a lie because for some reason, people still invite her out, even though she doesn’t deserve the kindness. George is so supportive of me, bless him. I would have gladly not have gone out and told her to go choke on a dick.

I want to make a difference. I don’t want my suffering to be for nothing. I don’t know how to help though and I don’t even know whom I want to help. I only know that I want to write. I don’t know what to write though. Not when the people that mean the most to mean can’t even be bothered to read my shit. I just don’t understand where I’m meant to get this sudden confidence from. Everyone seems to expect me to, well, I don’t even know what people expect. They expect me not to fail and have pride in myself, but they don’t expect me to do anything notable. They don’t think I can reach the stars. When people are constantly picking faults, how do you look beyond them? I grew up being told from the get go, that I couldn’t sing and would never get to perform like in my dreams. I was told dreaming was bad and that I wouldn’t get further than emptying bins in school by a teacher. An English teacher, funny enough. If I ever become a teacher, I’d encourage it. Maybe when they become an adult, they wouldn’t feel as depressed as I do. Maybe they would feel as though they were actually meant to be on this planet. I was told that I was fat. I was told that I was clumsy. I was told that hurt people. I was told I was too soft. Too emotional. I was told that I was too tall. I was told that I had no friends. I was told that I was ugly. Many times, actually. I was told that I have no common sense. That I can’t think properly. I’ve been told that a person rarely grows beyond their family circumstances. I refused to believe that. I try to refuse to believe a lot of these things and sometimes I win. Today, I am losing.

My head is swimming. I don’t want to go back to Falmouth, although I know I need to. I’ve spent the last three weeks wishing I could go back. I find coming home too stressful. I find being at university too stressful. I find being alive too stressful.

As a kid I was told that I had nothing to stress about. That I was just being silly. I was told this as a teenager too. And now, as an adult, I am still being silly. I’ll probably die of old age and silliness.  You hear of this kind of silliness causing heart attacks but they don’t call it silliness then. They call is stress. But they only call it stress, usually, when you get older. As a child, or a young person, it’s just silliness. However, no matter what age I get to, or was, I could always produce a long list of all the things that I am, or was, stressed about. I never expected someone so unlike myself to understand the stressors. How could they? They aren’t me and they don’t live my life. More often than not, they barely even listen to what it is that is trying to strangle me and most often than not, I can’t produces the sounds to describe it.

I feel a bit better now that I have spouted out all of this nonsense. I should probably see a counsellor again when I get back. It doesn’t so me any favours to have it all locked up in my head, preparing my brain for an explosion. I’m undecided about whether I will post this. It feels far too personal to post to my blog but at the same time people don’t know about your troubles if you don’t talk about them and people won’t talk to you if they don’t know your troubles and you won’t feel better until you have talked so it looks as though that’s my only option. I do think logically, or at least I try to. If you read this, for whatever reason… I don’t even know how to end this. I don’t even know whom I am writing to anymore. Myself, or the hopeless fool that lands their eyes on this page.

The 7th Wonder of Yeovil

Many of you may have been wondering why I had only mentioned 6 out of the 7 wonders of Yeovil, and I promise you it was not because I had forgotten how to count to seven. It was in fact because I wanted to write about the 7th in a completely different post, of course! Yes, this 7th wonder has made many locals awestruck, and I too find it quite astonishing.

Roundabouts.

Ta da! Yes, the 7th wonder is the brand new and exciting ‘traffic flow solutions’ that have been introduced to roundabouts about Yeovil! The police station roundabout has cost a bomb and they’re now throwing money on the next roundabout. £14M on the next roundabout according to the Western Gazette. Wonders in Yeovil don’t come any more expensive than this one. The Bowling Alley could learn a thing or two.

See, I haven’t been home that long, but I have been around to pick up bits and bobs and for the amount of money, I expected a massive change to the landscape. The most that I have noticed is a few extra unnecessary traffic lights and some bike paths. The question to be raised though is: will they get used? Do Yeovilians  have the capability and fitness to cycle? Can they afford bikes on top of their fuel guzzling cars? Eh, or maybe that’s just me.

What do you think? I’m no motorist, not for a while anyway, but has it made a difference? I hear people complain, still, but is it because it’s really not made a difference or because we’re British and love a bloody good moan? Cheers for reading! X

The 7 Wonders of Yeovil

Guess who’s back? Back again? Yes. I am back home. I’ve been back for a few days but my laptop screens got screws loose… or missing… and so I’ve been a bit cautious about whipping it out. Now I’m at George’d dads and there’s a desk, I can finally write! Yay! So, this is my introduction. I was at uni, it was my last week before coming home for Easter and my friend told me that she’d read ‘How’d you write about Yeovil?‘ and loved it. She asked me how I found so much to write about our ‘little’ home town and the cogs in my dusty brain started turning for another piece. Yeovil and it’s 7 wonders and yes, there are seven, I counted.

So, I’ll firstly give you the list, and then I’ll explain:

  1. Taunton
  2. Neo
  3. Takeaway Alley
  4. Yeo Lesuire Complex
  5. Yeovil Country Park, AKA Ninesprings
  6. Wyndham Street

Here we have it and if you disagree, lets agree to disagree. If you can count to more than seven, then I’m real proud of you.

  1. Taunton is ‘the heart of Somerset’. Yeovil ‘has the mind of a city, the heart of a town’. But I think that 98% of people living in this pretend city, would rather live in the heart of Somerset, eh? It’s retail centre is much bigger and more popular than ours, this in itself has various advantages. It’s night life is pretty good, from what I last experienced a few years ago. And, as far as I’m aware, You never want to kill anyone from Taunton. All the people you could possibly hate live in Yeovil, so Taunton is agro free for most yeovilians. Taunton is Yeovil’s wonder and is only a 40-minute-drive-ish away, so it’s not all that bad.

 

 2. Neo is a wonder in itself. Now, I was going to write a separate review of Falmouth’s night life but I think it’s important that I have something to compare Yeovil’s night life to. I know you’re all groaning. Neo, and Yeovil, is crap, blah blah blah. But it’s our crap, and that’s what’s most important. You go out on your Friday or Saturday night, or both if you’re one of those warriors I mentioned in my previous article, no matter where you start, nine and a half times out of ten, you will end up in Neo. No matter how much you complain and cry in the toilets at Wetherspoons, you can not fight the magnetic pull. At night, Neo is the centre of the universe. Everyone knows it’s crap and yet no one can never say no. What choice do you have? Well, I’ll tell you.

I went out for the first time to ‘Club I’ (That stands for Club International’ in Fali. I was told to brace myself before going in and I was right to. I didn’t realise that there were two flights of stairs I had to walk up before getting into the club. At the end of the night, I watched a man fall down those stairs. Be thankful that Neo isn’t a health risk. On getting into the club, I realised that I was paying £2 for a mouthful of Archers and lemonade. There was no seated area, there were no podiums, poles, or massive ‘stage’ type deal, all of the peasants were thrown in together. It was barbaric. There were no bouncers around that I could see. And the animals took their drinks on the dance floor! You don’t get any of that Neo. After that night, I couldn’t wait to get back to Yeovil. You don’t need to use your hips and elbows as weapons just to create some kind of space to dance in. So, Neo is a whole different planet and it’s the only one Yeovil’s got. It brings so many different types of people together. The old, drunken men covered in glow sticks; girls in dresses barely suitable to be underwear, caked in make up to hide the youth in their faces, the men that go to impress these women, I could go on with the list of descriptions.

3. Takeaway Alley. How many towns do you know with it’s very own food quarter? 99% of Just Eat orders probably come from this one road. And it’s had a song written about it. One bands experience of Yeovil and Takeaway Alley was so bad that they actually wrote a song about it. It’s pretty folky, so it might not be to everyone’s taste, but just take a look at ‘Yeovil Town‘ by Show of Hands and listen carefully to the lyrics. In 10-20 years, I don’t think it’s actually changed. I went to New York a few years back and I know it’s hard to make a comparison, but one could say that Takeaway Alley is our own Little Italy, or Chinatown.

4. The Yeo Leisure Complex. I can barely even spell it, but it’s that area where the Nuffield gym is right in front of Pizza Hut. An accident? I think not. I associate Nuffield members with fearlessness and stomachs of steel, but I think the common conception of Nuffield is beefcakes and gym selfies on Snap Chat. You’ve also got the bowling alley which changes name so often that I’m not even sure what it’s called right now. All I’m aware of is that the alleys keep breaking and even the owners given up pumping money into it. I always have liked a good game of bowling though and the name has only changed like, three times. I guess the over priced cinema should also get a mention. But that’s all I can think to say about it. I love going to the pictures but I’d rather save money and go to a cinema in any other town but Yeovil. I hear Dorchester’s deals are perfect.

The Nolasco

5. Ninesprings is the location of summer in Yeovil. It’s a rite of passage in childhood because the park is ace. You’ve got ducks but don’t let your kids go near the swans. They’re feisty buggers, as one of my  younger sisters learnt when I told her to go up to one, when we were kids. For many teens, it’s where you go for the odd cheeky sexual encounter away from the parents, or just a lovely date if you’re more Yeovilite than Yeovilian. Ninesprings is lush though. It’s the place in Yeovil that could still be described as natural.

6. I’ve put Wyndham Street down as the last one. For some reason, Wyndham is broken up all over the place. You’ve got Wyndham Park, Wyndham Hill, Wyndham Street , Wyndham Court but it reflects one side of town. Wyndham street it just around the corner from takeaway alley and all kid of stories are generated on this one part of town. Due to the grotty secrets that it hides, it’s not really considered a part of the town centre, despite people local to Wyndham Street wishing it was. For now it’s just home to Domino’s, a polish shop and a notorious brothel, which, despite the police repeatedly shutting it down, comes back like a weed. I’d love to one day see this road become integrated with town life again.

So that’s the 7 wonders. I didn’t tell you they’d be pretty, or ugly. I just told you they were wonders. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading and if you’ve got any thoughts on what your own 7 Wonders of Yeovil are, pop them down in the comments! Cheers for reading! x

 

Quick, Little Soldier!

Screaming and crying,

And yelling, no dying,

It happens every night.

 

Quick,

Escape into the magic wall

That only I can see.

I have to hide, you see,

So Daddy’s temper doesn’t catch up with me.

 

I should be there to fight,

There to help,

But this little soldiers scared,

Because I’m no little soldier;

So why is my house a war zone?

 

Quick-

Don’t wake him!

Creep and be still,

Otherwise the consequences will surely be real.

 

I don’t like Daddy,

When he is like this;

I wish he could be sent into an abyss,

Because then everyone would be happy,

Perhaps, even Mummy.

 

Because I see the tears form in her eyes,

I see the pain she tries to hide,

I see the silent prayers are sung,

As Daddy threatens to have her neck rung.

 

Then Doggy howls,

He knows what this is.

But Daddy doesn’t like Doggy

Everybody knows,

The monster yanks his tail,

Like a teatowel, all soggy.

 

“No Daddy, no!”

Voice no longer contained

No longer am I able to keep this at bay.

Poor Doggy screams,

His masters a brute.

Oh God, no,

Not me,

Not next.

 

“Please Daddy, no!”

Then everything blurs.

The floor gently greets me

As worried voices stir.

 

When will this be over?

When can I be sent home?

Self Improvement

Hello all, yes, I have returned from both the excitement I’ve been harbouring for my mother and myself, and the trauma of restarting university again. I can now say I am more than half way through my university career at least. I’ve achieved great grades for my first semester, but through this trauma and feeling of overwhelming dread, I have been wondering if it was worth all of that stress and anxiety. Was it worth the weight I lost because I could not eat? The sleep I missed out on due to nightmares? The craziness I put myself through because I did not have the time to socialise or to even put on clothes, let alone wash them. I do wonder at how students can say university is a dawdle and how people can look down on students and call them lazy or whatever. You get out what you put in. So, naturally, I’ve been a bit worried about coming back into an environment which I am mentally, not particularly equipped to handle. Luckily, George was around to remind me of the end goal. That’s important.

So, have I tried to make things better reader? Well, I assume that you assumed by the title of this piece that I have found a way to help with stressful situations. I have tried a few things.

I am awfully unorganised. I have poor temporal awareness and my spatial awareness can be pretty awful too depending on which one is my main focus. My mum suggested a To Do List app so what do I do? I go onto Google Play and I don’t just download any to do list… I download THE To Do List app, todoist, which is what my spelling looks like when I’m thinking of a million things at once, as is the usual then. It’s come in pretty handy… when I actually remember to make a list of the things I need to remember. I must remember to become better at that.

I then decided to keep a diary. I’ve always kept a diary since I was very young. I like to write about things regularly and I love to have a good reminisce. My diary was never a regular thing though, unfortunately. Maybe once every few weeks, if I really tried. This diary was going to be different though to my usual angry and depressed self tearing pages and smudging ink. This one was going to be a health diary to find out what I ate and when, how I drank, slept, socialised (in person, as apposed to the too regular virtual contact), exercised, toileted ect. I’m sure you get the picture. I realised that it’s a human thing to do all of these things and yet I struggle to remember how long it was since the last time I did any number of normal human functions.

This diary lasted 2 and half days and I am rather proud of myself. What I found was, that instead of documenting accurately what I do daily, I found myself doing everything more often and correcting myself so I had plenty to write about. I’m never usually that interesting. So, after two and a half days I started to find myself in a rut where I couldn’t move from my position in bed and I hated my entire life. I realised at this point the diary was a bust (it was on the table, too far to reach from bed).

A diary would not do. The moment classes started up again, I realised I’d be far too busy to be able to go so in depth as I did. I needed something else. I needed purpose. A reason to smile. A reason to haul myself out of my safe zone. I needed a daily goal. So, three nights ago I started writing down a number of possible things that I could achieve. Some easy and some more difficult. These included: diet and exercise goals, appearance goals, hobby goals, house goals, social goals, habit breaking goals, spiritual goals; something I could do in a day, or for a little bit of the day.

The first goal I had was to sit with my housemates. This was a scary prospect to me for some reason because I have become quite the recluse. It’s one thing to talk to people through the internet, another thing entirely to look at people and to talk to them. So, that evening I asked if they’d like to watch an episode of Shadowhunters with me (review to follow) and they agreed. So we watched an episode and I felt very proud that I both fulfilled my first goal and had a nice time doing it. I didn’t set myself a time limit, so I didn’t have to push myself too hard on the first go.

Yesterdays goal was to stay away from Twitter accounts that I deem as bad. In terms of ‘bad’, I refer to the twitter account of ex friends which I now passionately hate. Hate can be a very addictive feeling and can be very hard to pull away from, particularly when they have caused you harm and have acted like a complete douchebag and it brings me a certain amount of pleasure when I see they are going through a rough patch. I’m sure I’m not the only one to feel that way. We’re only human. Anyway, I knew I could do it for a day. I don’t check twitter everyday, although I did yesterday, I was able to refrain from the devils call.

Today my goal is to play music and sing. I have always loved music and singing. In fact, I saw myself as a singer growing up more than I did a writer. I hated reading as a kid and for most of my teens and I loved singing. I entered my school talent show, I took BTEC Music, it really was the direction I saw my life going in. Funny how directions change. So, this evening I shall be singing, might even get the guitar out if I feel I have the time. University is really asking too much of its Creative Writing/ English students this term.

Anyway, I hope this has been useful to anyone that is also struggling. Keep up the good fight. x

The Age of Loneliness

This is so relateable and I feel like I really need to watch this programme.

An author's Life

age of loneliness

When I was first asked if I would consent to being featured in a documentary about loneliness, I was pretty nonplussed.

Although my wife and I had just split up and I was spending at least part of the week living on my own, I still hadn’t come to terms with my own feelings, let alone being ready to talk about them on camera.

Could I really go on the telly and tell people how bereft I felt?

Who would want to hear my tales of woe anyway?

What would my kids say?

What would my mates think?

Come to think of it, I knew the answer to that last question.

Eventually, after some back and forth with the producer about how my story would be handled, I agreed to mull their suggestion over.

That night, I talked to my boys about the documentary.

‘Are you really lonely?’ Joe asked.

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My Thoughts Today

Being alive is hard. Have you ever thought about that? The hardships one faces just by breathing? You’re brought into a world with no idea of who or what you are. It takes years, for some a lifetime, to figure out themselves out. You’ve got to give yourself food, drink, exercise, sleep; you’ve got to work, relax, socialise, learn. You’ve got to follow laws and for most, at least basic norms. For many, you’ve got to appease friends, relatives, colleagues, partners. You’ve got look after yourself and others when just looking after yourself is a challenge. And it is a challenge, let’s face it. Everyone has days when they need to haul themselves out of bed and force themselves to look in the mirror. Not only have we got to live, but we have to survive. Not all of us are adept at surviving. I find the idea of survival an odd one. Survival should be natural to all of us, and yet I often lack the motivation to feed myself and give myself water whenever I’m hungry or thirsty. In fact, it’s not always a motivational thing, but more often one of forgetfulness. Humans need water to survive? Oh yeah… 

It is so easy to stress about the ‘big things’ in life that we forget about the smaller things that we need to keep us going and yet these things are big things. Very big things. Life and society has a panicking about things that, in the long haul, don’t even matter. When you look back at the end of your life you should, firstly, be proud that you made it so far. In this world, you’re not guaranteed a long life. You’re not guaranteed a life at all. You have to get go and get it. Being in good health, and remembering to survive is the first step to being alive. These are things that so many take for granted. There are people that have to survive on a lot less and yet, no matter where we are, who we are, survival is still something many of us find difficult.

If you’ve found the motivation or the time to read this short article, I’d like to say thank you and congratulations. Being alive can be pretty shit, let me level. We’re small, single creatures on a huge planet in the middle of a huge universe and yet, our problems can seem like all there is. But there’s so much more! There are others around you, that are just like you, taking on the daily grind. There are places to see, people to meet, things to do all around you. And I know, it’s overwhelming when you think about it. But sometimes you need to spread your wings, and sometimes you need an anchor to stop you floating off into space.

I don’t have any advice: no 101 for this, no tips, no help, just understanding and sympathy. I can’t even think of the word I want to use and apparently, Urban Dictionary doesn’t know it either so I guess it’s not important right now. But yeah, I know the struggles and I was just thinking about them because, I’m having a solemn kind of day and my mind works more than it should when I actually have time to relax and do my own stuff, but hey, guess it’s a survival kind of thing. Can’t complain.

See you later guys! (: xx

 

I Have Returned!

Hello everyone. After a long spell away from WordPress (unfortunately, not from the keyboard) I have returned. I have a whole bunch of new topics to write about and moan about ect. ect. hopefully, for your enjoyment.

Where have I been?! I hear one of you rhetorically ask, well. That is a very good question and I’m glad one of you rhetorically asked it. My being away has been down to a number of this: Struggling to cope with being me, university life and life in general. I’ve found it difficult to stay motivated and happy. The next thing was Christmas. Coming home in it’s self is a massive rukus. I had lots of arguments with relatives (which didn’t help with the moods), I shopped like a hard session at the gym, I poorly attempted to study (which I shall return back to) and I got engaged! Yes, Sam Wiltshire shall, at some point in the hopefully near future, shall become Sam Clarke.

What’s that reader? How did this happen?  Well, It was Christmas. We had a whole line up of places to go and people to see. In the morning we went to my dads and we all had a lovely time. George was acting a little strange in that he refused to take off his coat, despite it not actually being cold. His words were ‘you know what I’m like’. Yes, I do know what you’re like Mister, and you were being weird. But hey, it was Christmas, I wasn’t going to question it. Anyway, we then went to Dorchester to have dinner at his aunts house with his dad’s side of the family. It was an amazing dinner, I must say. Everyone worked so hard and the results were absolutely delicious. So, I told my mother that we would be joinging then at 3.30pm-4.00pm. It was 3.15 but the time we finished dinner. Yes, I was panicking a little. It was going to take 45 minutes to get back to Yeovil. George was dwardling and I was panicking.

He pulled me out into the hall way and asked if I was happy with him. Well, of course I was! I love him so incredibly much and it was Christmas. How can you be mad at anyone on Christmas? Anyway, I was confused. He took me back into the dining room with everyone else, asked how long I wanted to be with him. Forever, of course, was my answer and BOOM. Clarkus gets down on one knee and whips out the box. Overwhelmed all I could do was try to pull him up and kiss him. At this point I’m sure I could imagine the words that were going through his head: Get off me you crazy bitch and just let me propose to you. So naturally, I had to try and compose myself and try to listen to what he was saying and doing and I was just so shocked that the whole thing is a bit of a blur now. I remember seeing this ring glistening in this little box and I remember seeing his face full of happiness and pride. I remember looking like a complete twat in front of his relatives. Somehow, I managed to say yes and he slipped the ring onto my finger. Rose gold ring set with diamonds and an oval cut stone. “It’s something different and it felt like you.” And I agree, it’s perfect.

What I can never forget it all of the pictures his uncle took of us, and how everyone was crying, including me, of course. I was so glad I refrained from putting make up on because if my screwed up facials didn’t ruin those pictures, the running make up would have. Everyone gave us cuddles and, George’s aunt, seeing how I was quivering like a loose leaf in the wind gave me a glass of champagne to wash it all down. I felt like I needed a lot more than just one glass, however, I had a large in take of sherry through the dessert so it was probably best I didn’t over do it. George took everyone but his mum by surprised and I was glad that everyone was as happy as I was. And at least I had a valid excuse for turning up to my mums so late on Christmas day!

natalie hiding

By the time I got to my mums, we’d announced the situation, everyone was chuffed as punch. My step dad ordered me not to plan the wedding the same year as my mums. I of course, like the angel that I am, promised I wouldn’t even consider upstaging my guardian angel. Upon returning to my sisters in the living room they came together as a choir to sing me the chorus of Goodbye My lover by James Blunt. I think that’s probably been the happiest day of my whole miserable existence. I joke, I’m only miserable on, usually, from Monday to Thursday. Luckily, Christmas was on a Friday.

Anyway, I promise this wasn’t just a post about my engagement. After that, in the New Year, I had to return back to reality (turned out I’d been trapped in some kind of  fairytale) and I had a week or two to complete five pieces of work that counted towards my final grade. This, naturally, did not leave any room for enjoyment and leisure. Leaving behind my fiancé was awfully tough. While the work helped to take my mind off of it, it also stressed me out even more than I needed to be. I saw a counsellor during this point. I said I would get myself booked in last semester and I did. It helped a lot to work out what I was feeling and I booked another for next week. All of my deadlines are done now and its a case of writing as much crap as I possibly can, paint stuff, plan ahead for the next semester so I don’t have this womb ache ever again and spend time with my lover man and the family, because I miss them all like hell too. And Pagan Society stuff. Actually, that’s a point. I’ve made quite a bit of progression with that now and we’re planning to take it even further. I’m very excited.

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Thanks for reading, see you in the next post! xx

A Nonsensical Wonderland

Tumbling, Tumbling,

Tumbling down,

Into the rabbit hole.

Rolling, rolling

Rolling around,

Which way do I go?

 

Trees do whisper,

Whilst the cat does laugh,

What is my purpose here?

I’m eating my bread,

And stuffing the fibre,

But still I have plenty to fear.

 

Following, following,

Following the herd,

But really there is no herd.

It’s all in my head,

Maybe I’m dead,

Have these events ever occurred?

 

Wonderland, wondersea,

What will become of me?

The Tweedles do twiddle

They’re all thumbs,

And no fiddle,

All the while I am stuffing this glee.