duality

My two flares

my aching heart

this retched flesh wound,

this depraved echo

jeering and snide because

I am alive and still

I feel that

this is purgatory

a special hell

just allow me to be sweet about it.

-

it's when I am torn apart

that I feel the music of the world

the desperate thundering beat

bore into me

isnt that sad

when im okay I am empty

I am numb to the cosmos

I can use as many fancy words

I can imbue my thoughts

with pretension

but really

I just feel shit

all eloquence aside

I just feel sad.

I don't feel like anything

and mostly, my mind just comes up with

'I don't know'.

Fellow lifeforms, can you read me?

There's a very large part of me that hasn't ever really felt, real. It still feels like my mind is clinging to some conflicting existentialist ego that made its first appearance when we're told to grow up. There are an abundance of ways to describe it: child trapped in an adults body, alien among the human race, ghost not quite come to terms with its own mortality, etc., etc.
But by far the worst aspect is, there is no real way to describe it. Sure, the above may summarise it to an extent, sure, I might be understood for a little while, but honestly because I can't be sure of who, what, or why I am, I cannot communicate what I feel like I am. This is really my best effort.
So like almost every other human on this planet I will profess that I never seemed to fit in anywhere, but I've seen the same people say that and I've seen what fitting in is, when you're always on the outside looking in, when you've studied it but never partaken in it, you learn to recognise it. Because of this, I still feel alone. This isn't anything particularly sad, unless you allow it to be, but more a topic I'd like to put into writing. Perhaps in doing so I'll find my thoughts easier to process. I mean, they say that you're never sure of what you're thinking, until you write it down.
I digress; I was diagnosed with dyspraxia at the age of 17, a seemingly harmless, simplistic disorder. On account of how subtle it is, it has scarcely been given any notice by governmental institutions, psychological boards or educational systems. While you do learn how to deal with the physical side effects as you grow older, for the most part, the mental ones are far more treacherous, and lonely to navigate. There are a huge number of reasons for this, but I've found the most pressing is, we are as humans constantly reminded that it could be worse. So, with dyspraxia, we are constantly reminding ourselves that it could be worse. Forgo'ing our right to discuss it, vent about it or even bring it up in a social environment. Although anybody with any disability, physical or mental, can tell you that it is frustrating to live with, at the very least.
I constantly find myself without a place to fit in, because I can hardly have a normal conversation with somebody, or apply for a job, meet new people, have a relationship, without feeling completely isolated. It doesn't matter how warm and loving the person is, how accepting they are of this difficulty, because their brain is wired differently to mine, and in turn will interpret information differently to mine, I can never be on the same wave-length as them. Grounded by the knowledge that there are millions out there like this, disturbed knowing that even still we could barely understand each other, I find myself in a purgatory of sorts. A social suspension, in which I can very much recognise convention, reality (as we seem to perceive it) and culture, but cannot participate. Being an extrovert, well, that just seems like a crude joke to me.

You never know what you're thinking until you write it down..

You never know what you're thinking until you write it down..

A few days ago my other half suggested I begin a "lifestyle" blog, this sounded like a great idea if not for one overwhelming hindrance: i often feel as though i lack any particular "lifestyle", certainly nothing substantial enough to turn into words, words that people would want to read.

however what do I have to lose from trying at least?

It then occurred to me that I could just write. about anything. literally anything. I remembered a piece of advise one of my lecturers gave my class about combating writers block; "you never know what you're thinking until you write it down", the same can be applied with any practise, if you're stuck or in a rut, just do and something will come out of it.

So this is the fuel to start my blogging fire. I just remind myself, if I write, I will eventually siphon out something worth reading, right?

Recently I've been facing some facets of an existential crisis; now that my lectures have finished for the year, unemployed me rejoiced the abundance of free time, endless lie-ins, catching up on my favourite shows, going out during the week on student nights, unfortunately a week in the novelty has worn off and I'm at a loss for things to do. I say that, at a loss of things to do that satisfy or entertain me, "Get a job!" "Do something pro-active!" And lo I finally got round to starting this new, potential hobby, and updating my cv. "Don't forget to search for deep orc butts" - Sunny Matthews, 2015.

It gets to a point where I find myself in a cold sweat over wasting the best years of my life, what ever happened to carpe diem? An aspect of my life that seems to have been buried along with my reckless youth.

Months later and the stifling heat has rolled in, "it won't be as bad this year, surely!" I keep telling myself. Yet once again, laziness has set in and productivity has made itself scarce as I feel my brain, almost literally, melting. Laying on my bed in a fit of perspiration and staring at my laptop like some sort of sweaty gormless half-wit. Feeling the tides of inactivity sweeping over my summer I had already resolved to a different pass-time; I am trying to embrace all aspects of my life, good and bad instead of beating myself up over the trivial at any given opportunity. Instead of hating myself for being lazy, I now take this time and low physical energy to meditate. If I find myself on a day too humid or scorching for me to handle doing anything, I reflect upon myself, my life and the universe; trust me to always find something pretentious to gabble on about! I joke, however meditation has become a saving grace in my life over the last year; I feel as though I have really grown, I have worked on opening my chakras and achieved a higher level of self awareness. That's not to say that I have attained a guru-esque status or that I am "totally zen", yet before emotions that came up cloudy and chaotic, undefinable, pose less of a challenge or hurdle to my day to day life. 

I feel as though, were I to offer any advice, it would be that looking at problems from a different angle instead of allowing negativity to set in will yield amazingly uplifting results; try to think of the dark and the light as a necessary duality, one cannot exist without the other, neither can you exist in happiness without negativity arising. 

:/

I just keep remembering all the really lovely times we spent together, I keep playing them over and over in my head. Our first date, how we discovered we both had been semi infatuated by each other for about a prior after we first met, how amazing that night was, and how nervous he seemed the next day when he asked me out on a second date. Nobody I was attracted to as much as him ever seemed to be nervous around me, at this point I was so incredibly un used to attention let alone male attention, for so long I felt invisible, had zero confidence and self esteem, so to have somebody who I perceived to be gorgeous, almost overwhelmingly attractive, not only like me back but actually seem to like me enough that I made them nervous, that was very new to me. I remember the night he came back from his fortnight in France, how he'd met me in his room but exited briefly to help his brother with the luggage, I was stood waiting patiently for him to come back, letting my eyes wander about his/our room, expecting nothing more than for him to calmly re enter, give me a quick hug and then return to his laptop, instead I remember this very clearly, I heard the door open and before I could turn around to see him I just about saw a black and white blur dash toward me out of the corner of my eye and pull me into a tight embrace, as if he never wanted to let go, and proclaim how much he missed me, and I him, and then as he went to close his bedroom door, I slipped off my dress to reveal the lingerie I had picked out specially for this night, and the look on his face when he turned around, priceless.
I remember a day where we had both gotten ill, and neither of us were people who dealt with being ill very well (that meaning, we were the whiney, melodramatic child like type when it came to illnesses), but something about being in love makes me want to go above and beyond for that person I love, so I dragged myself out of bed while he was still playing his video games, and braved the icy cold winter, trekking out to our local supermarket, where I stocked up on kleenex tissues, the special soft kind, that's better for your sore nose, 2 crates of schweppes lemonade cans, his favourite, some chocolate and lots of juice, olbas oil and some sherbet dip dabs (also his favourite), and came home with my hands full of goodies to surprise him, I loved surprising him like that, it made me so happy to see how grateful and happy he was to be surprised. We spent the rest of the evening cuddling in bed.
One of the moments, a funnier moment, and also a moment that in my mind signified our relationship had reached a pretty steady point, I often get really uncomfortably hot and sore feet if I've been doing a lot of walking in the cold weather, like, it's really unpleasantly hot, and I was playing a video game and absent mindedly commented on how my feet hurt, to which I received a (seemingly) absent minded response of "oh, really?" "Yeah," "aww, babe, that sucks." Seeing him go to his wardrobe out of the corner of my eye whilst this being said, the next moment he'd knelt down in front of me, covered his hands in lotion and began rubbing my feet, I was oddly touched by this, and as dumb or weird as this may sound I felt like that little display of kindness, made me sure of his love for me.
The morning of the 9th of January, 2013, the morning after he had proposed, he rolled over in bed next to me, placing a hand on my cheek and smiling, looking deep into my eyes, and telling me how beautiful he thought I looked with the sunlight falling on my face, and how happy he was that we'd made that commitment. I always loved how happy to see me he was when he was under the influence of meth amphetamines, he seemed pretty happy to see me most of the time, but because he saw me all of the time, there was always hint of complacency in his voice when he greeted me like "sup pinks" it was very nonchalant. Yet on MDMA whenever I walked into a room, or if he'd been taking it whilst I was away, and I returned, he seemed as though he couldn't be happier that I was there, beckoning me to come and cuddle him by extending his arms with a giant grin or playfully patting the bed and beaming always saying something to the effect of "HEYYYY sweetie! I missed youuuuu".
I remember one morning coming into his room after I'd spent the night at mine, to let him and his friends have a guys night in, and they were all fast asleep in sleeping bags and duvets across his bedroom floor, the cutest sight, might I add, they'd had themselves a very cool sleepover it would have seemed, and naturally his friends had to wake him up to let him know I'd arrived, I went over to sit on the end of his bed and say hi, and ended up getting pulled into a big cuddle in his lap, and he seemed shockingly interested in everything (and I mean everything) I had to say. I remember the first time I opted into trying MDMA with him, he had "come up" about, 20 minutes before I did, and so was very loved up and cuddly around me anyway, and I was sort of leant over his lap trying not to "wait" for my high to hit, and he was busy in conversation, then I remember just, slipping out of his arms, and back onto the bed, I don't remember the next few seconds, partly because I had my eyes closed, so I didn't see anything that went on around me, and my body was adjusting to the drug and so was extremely overwhelmed and trying to deal with the drastic change, but I remember as I began calming down and becoming more stable, I felt his arms envelope me and caress my hair and my arm/shoulder/back, holding me close to his chest, kissing my forehead and whispering to me things like "Just remember you're in control, you're doing great, this is just your body adjusting, you'll feel amazing in a second, just think about how much I love you, how much we love each other, and how everyone here loves you," and then the euphoria hit me, I opened my eyes, and I think I remember him just exclaiming how breathtaking my eyes were. I remember going out for a really nice meal on our 6 month-a-versary thing (idk what the proper term for it is), where we just talked and talked and talked for ages, and decided on that day that we wanted to go to university together, and I remember just how taken care of he made me feel then and there. Christmas was also very well spent, given most of the day we spent apart, having family time, but I stayed over his that night, so after everyone had eaten their christmas dinners and spent sufficient time with just their families, I returned to his, and him and his friends and his brothers sat around playing their new games and watching new films, and then me and I occupied myself quite happily curled up in his bed with his new scarf, reading my new book, and that was one of the times that we didn't spend cuddling up to each other, in deep conversation with each other, making love, kissing, being physically close, paying full attention to each other, but instead comfortable doing our own things, and still enjoying each others company with the company of others, and that really made me feel like things were stable, healthy and steady. The night before we broke up, we'd gotten into a petty squabble over a video game, and being naturally stubborn people, spent the next hour in silence to each other until somebody admitted they were wrong, but like it always did, after a certain amount of time spent in silence I began to worry, would this lead to us being really angry at each other for the entire night? Next day even? What if this causes a silly little rift that tears our relationship apart, I remember he left the room without a word, I stared after him but didn't say anything, not out of pride but out of fear of what I'd even say, or how he'd react to the silence being broken, then when he returned he, without saying a thing, placed a rocket ice lolly on my desk next to me, I gingerly inquired as to what that was about, and he turned to me and said "it's a peace offering, I don't want to fight with you" I looked at it, and so relieved he wasn't mad at me, gently smiled back and clambered over to his side of the bed to give him a kiss and a hug, that was the first time a silent argument had finished without bloodshed/screaming, I felt like we were finally beginning to resolve our issues and grow, that's why our fight the next morning was so hurtful to me, I felt like we'd taken a thousand steps backwards and couldn't even function together anymore. Over the months we spent not speaking after that, I contemplated sending him an email with a jpeg of a rocket ice lolly attached, saying "this is my peace offering", as a cute way of trying to end our discord between each other, but like always, I never got the guts to be the first one to break the silence.
There are so so many more fond memories I have that make me feel insane to have doubted his love for me for even a second, that make me hate myself for ever even once taking that relationship for granted, that maybe if I had just backed down in that last fight, if I had just simply admitted I was wrong, swallowed my pride, maybe we'd still be together.

I have decided my boyfriend's knee is my comfort blanket.
Fin.

Hate is a strong word, but I hold a vast amount of contempt for female pop artists these days. I'm sure history hath spat out a large number of them that lower the bar for women everywhere, but these are the ones I've grown up to know, and hate. Sorry. Hold contempt for.
Katy Perry; a shame, actually quite liked her at first, a quirky, adorable and original singer/songwriter with a whimsical sense of style. However she turned into a vapid unoriginal sell out, not because she became succesful, but because it's painfully obvious she no longer writers her own songs, and has become a bit of a one trick pony, in the sense that she's only been able to market herself with one distinct style, and it's getting old, she has no versatility, no originality, did I say that already? Fuck I don't care.

Rihanna; (btw my grammar is probably atrocious and I do apologize for that) a  run of the mill young r n b star turned super edgy teen/young adult icon who clearly "don't give a fuck" about nothing. Donning the latest of the late fashion trends, in hopes that it'll make her appear cutting edge, getting rid of her redonculous curves, and flashing about her scrawny body whilst marketing marijuana, bdsm and alcoholism to children, don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with any of those things, if you're old enough to act responsibly with them. Now she looks like a cheap, drugged up prostitute who, I get that she probably does write her own songs, but still claims that they make her "break down in tears" when she sings them, really RiRi? Does "singing" about sado masochism and how you wish your man would treat you like a fucking princess, or how you're tough shit, make you all misty eyed? Thought not.

I'm sure there are more that get on my tits but I'm too buzzed to focus on it right now, will probs add to this later, being the cynical cunt that I am yo.

ramblings

I have become such a lightweight that 2-4 gulps of blue charge (cheap ass red bull) and expensive vodka is enough to get me tipsy.
Wake me up, before you go o, don't wanna miss it when you hit that hai.

Why are 80s tunes, the cheesy ones as well, the best to jive to when drinking? Maybe it's because i'm female. and incredibly camp.
I really want a poncho.

Okay let me tell you about a dream I had last night

Me and my mum and my stepdad had moved into a new 3 story house in the country, and there were two houses next door, and our neighbours kept calling up, oh yeah and we had two tigers instead of dogs, one black one white, but yeah our neighbours kept calling us up and asking me if I could hear the music. They claimed they could hear string quartet or something. I kept telling them no,

then after this went on for a while The Doctor showed up with A. Pond and Rorey at our house, mother made small talk, and the topic of the strange phonecalls arose
that's when doctor did his "something\s not right here"| face.

Miss Pond pointed out the two houses next door were clearly abandoned. The doctor stood up all dramatic like.

I don't like this song.
that's better

anyway the doctor became dramatic, and was like, we need to get out of here.

All of a sudden the lights at the top of the house went out, the bulb was blown, and then the one below that, quickly the entire house had dscended into darkness. Then that creepy violin noise that you hear in horror films began playing, real high pitched like, weird.
We all ran to the kitchen to hide, and the doctor informed us our house was home to this alien species of arachnidoids
they were made of mahogony, and had no eyes, but one big razor teeth filleed mouth. They had human torsos extracting from the body of the spider, and would spin string, like the type found on instruments, and would eat their victims from the inside out.


Anwyways that's all I remember of the dream.


My burps taste like leeks and ham.