I know what he smells like. I know how soft and thick his hair is. I know how smooth his skin feels on his face, and how rough when I run my fingers in the other direction. I know how fast his stubble grows, and where his bald patches are. I know how long his eye lashes are and how his deep brown eyes look when he’s excited. 

But I don’t know where he is. I don’t know who he’s with. I don’t know what he’s been doing or what’s been on his mind. I don’t know if he ever thinks of me. I don’t know if he’s aware of how I hurt, as if my chest has been hollowed out. Empty, yet heavy. I don’t know if he’s happy. I don’t know if I want him to be…

I’d give anything just to run my hands through his hair tonight; breathe him in; wrap my arms around him and slowly plant kisses across his big shoulders and down his back. I’d hold on so tight.

Why can’t he just feel the same?

I wonder if he knows I still think he’s magic. I wonder if one day I won’t.



So it’s actually past my bed time but I’m wide awake thanks of polishing off half a tub of Ben & Jerry’s (karamel sutra), which is crazy for me. Usually that stuff is totally off limits until Friday – Sunday. Sugar rush on a Wednesday night… am I wild or what.

Anyway I’ve been suffering with tooth/head/face ache for 2 days so curling up on the sofa all alone with my ice cream and the last couple episodes of Girls to catch up on (I can’t believe the next season will be the last, I’m not ready to say goodbye) was a treat for being such a trooper while my stupid body sabotages itself.

So I’m using my wide-awake-too-much-sugar time to get some more complicated feelings off my chest… This is something I typed up a few days ago…

I had a cry. In the toilets in work… Not for long, but when I left my eyes and nose were all red. Hopefully I just looked as though I’d been sneezing? Nobody mentioned it.
I had a cry because… well, actually, I’m not sure why I cried.

You know when you get a text message you can like see the first couple lines of it without actually reading it? Well, while I was working a text from him came in. He was asking if I wanted to go to New York in Nov. Flights were ‘only’ £340, we could go see the first UFC event to be held in Madison Square Gardens. I ignored it, ’cause I had to pretend to be working. Another text came in:”???” And another: “It’ll be all lit up for xmas and it’ll be so romantic and we can go ice skating and then watch people punch each other”.

I definitely didn’t cry because my boyfriend invited me to New York – Ice skating and UFC sounds perfect (except that I’m not dying to go back to NYC, I went as a teen and wasn’t enamored. Shock horror am I allowed to say that? A 20-something white girl blogger who doesn’t love NYC?! I’ll be excommunicated…)

But, regardless, the answer was no. I couldn’t even consider it. How the fuck was I supposed to pull £340 out of my arse on an hours notice? Yeah – he wanted to book it RIGHT AWAY. I’m currently paying off my credit card, trying to save money to pay him for the air bnb he booked for Paris at the end of August, trying to save spending money for Paris and money to buy him a 30th bday present (he wants dinner at a restaurant that’s like £300 PER PERSON). I mistakenly bought flights to London for a weekend to visit a friend, thinking I could do it on the cheap since flights are only £25, little did I realise it would cost £100 for a half decent hotel. His answer? ‘Just stick it on your credit card’ (he’s not the best at managing his finances). If I’m already saving for all of that other stuff how am I supposed to just stick another £340 on my credit card? Knowing full well that I won’t be able to pay it off for months and months, that I’d be gaining interest on it AND worrying about it every fucking day? No. The answer was just no – can’t be done. Plain and simple.

But making sensible financial decisions is FUCKING BORING. And maybe I am too, because I am good with my money (I have so little of it I have no choice but to be!). I’ve very little on my credit card and to be honest my savings can cover it if needs be (but they’re my rainy day fund atm). The only loan I have to repay is my student loan, which, let’s face it, doesn’t really count… I’ve never had bad credit, I’ve never been in debt or owed anybody money. But I’m also constantly saying ‘I can’t, I’m skint’, which really translates as ‘I could, but there’s far more sensible things I need to spend my money on.’

Was that why I cried? Because I had to say no AGAIN to something I wanted to do? I mean, I’ve wanted to visit my pal in London for like 2 years but never had the money. Now I finally can (although I wish I’d put more planning into it and organised accommodation first…). But there’s so many other things I have to say no to – a deal for a night in a fancy hotel with a hot tub and a bottle of champers with my girlfriend cause I can’t stump up £75 for one night. A few nights away with my mum, because I’m saving for Paris instead and can only afford one holiday. A night at a hotel and spa with him, just because. Lunch at a nice restaurant, just to try it. And the countless other holidays he’s tried to get me to book on a whim. Is it always saying no that made me cry?

Or is it the pressure of trying to keep up with everybody else? With my boyfriend who is inexplicably flush ALL. THE. TIME. With my girlfriend who has the same expensive taste as me but actually has the means to fund it. With all my other girlfriends with their mortgages or fancy hotel-looking apartments (if you’re reading this, you know who you are 😉 ). The friends who pay more bills than me and still manage to go clothes shopping and plan holidays.*

These seem like valid enough reasons to get emotional in the middle of the day at text messages I haven’t actually read yet. But that’s not why I cried.

I cried because he’s going anyway. Without me.

He’s gonna go and he’s gonna have a great time without me and he won’t miss me or wish I was there and he won’t need me and he doesn’t need me and that’s perfectly normal because a person shouldn’t need their partner but for some reason I can’t apply that rule to him and I want him to need me or want me and not go live his life without me.

I mean, I’m not even part of the decision making. I have no control whatsoever over what he does or doesn’t do, who he does it with or where he goes… We’re living two separate lives and he’s cool with that. And I’m powerless to change any of it. And that’s why I cried.

I can control how much money I spend or save. I can control how much sugar I eat throughout the week. But I can’t control my feelings, or his.

…Or grinding my teeth at night. Hence the tooth/head/face ache. Ow.
*Disclaimer – Most of these friends also worked a lot harder to get a career/get their shit together than I did. I do realise that… just sayin’, cause I know how much of a little bitch I sound!

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Absence makes the heart grow colder


I haven’t seen him in over 2 weeks now. I really wanted to see him when I came back from Budapest but first he was too busy and then he was being an asshole and then he was still too busy. Once again he had me up all night in tears. Although this time it wasn’t for fear of losing him, it was because I was so stupid to get back together. 

I just don’t understand what he’s getting from any of this. I don’t understand why I still can’t just walk away… 

The less I see him the less I want to. I can’t imagine him holding me in bed at night or kissing me in the morning the way I could at the height of the heartbreak. I wonder how it wasn’t like this for him… After months apart, not speaking to each other, he decided he missed me and wanted me back in his life. It’s frustrating how we can never truly understand another person. I guess we barely even understand ourselves. 

He’s still hurting me and this time I don’t feel like I’m to blame. When he treats me badly he has no excuse for it. So I dislike myself for not being strong enough to just walk away. I just keep hoping he’ll be nice to me again. I remember he used to feel very comforting… When my head was like a thunderstorm I could lie on his chest and just fall asleep. It would be nice to have that back, especially as I feel so inadequate right now. 

After basically being told I’m shit at my job and that I need to take more responsibility (in areas I’ve had no training in, I might add), I was then given all the shitty jobs that nobody else wants to do. I struggle at a sport I really want to be good at and I don’t think that I’ve done very well in the tests for the job I applied for. The maths was tough (and totally irrelevant to the job – typical).

I’m just feeling very apathetic towards everything and I really hate that. It’s strangely exhausting. I wish somebody would just come along and set me alight again. Make me feel like I am somebody. Meanwhile, I’m spending weeks in bed dreaming of another life entirely. I’ll wake up after Christmas. 
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How do you love?

This isn’t how I love – quietly, from a distance.

I love by waking up beside you in the middle of the night and immediately pulling you close. By running my hands over your body in appreciation of every part of you. By rubbing your feet with mine under the covers, because I know it makes you smile. By making all my best plans with you, by saving my spare time for you, by sitting peacefully beside you in the evening then staying up far too late listening to your thoughts in the darkness, always learning something new, in awe of how your mind works. I tell you about every little part of my day that you might find the smallest amusement or intrigue in. I place my entire body on top of yours and wrap myself around you, accidentally tangle you in my hair and breathe you in. I hold your hand, I eat with you, I share with you, I think of you, I endeavor to understand you. My fingers trace your tattoos, my lips trace your collar bone.

I can’t love you over the phone. I can’t give you all of me in one night. What do you want me for, if it’s not my love? There is better company, more beauty, less complicated minds for you – but no deeper love. That is what I offer, why am I here if you don’t want it?
It’s not enough for me to be your Saturday night. I want to be there for it all – and you don’t have the time to let me.
How can you say you miss me then shoot me down?
How can you say you love me and go days choosing not to contact me at all?
How is this enough for you now?
All these promises of next week, next year, one day… they keep me rooted here. How long until you have the time for the way I love?

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Sympathy Pains


They say laughter is infectious, but so are tears. How can you watch somebody’s heart breaking without feeling a pang in your own? 

My granny passed away pretty unexpectedly earlier this year, and my poor mummy is still grieving for her own mum. She stayed strong for the family, her dad especially, but now that things have calmed down a little, it’s like it’s really hit her.

Maybe it’s just as we’re coming into christmas or maybe it’s just gotten too much for her, but she is so sad. I look at her and I feel ridiculous for how I cried over the breakup this summer, because she’s lost someone who loved her unconditionally all her life – her heart really is broken. 

I wish we could do something to help. I just want the whole world to put it’s arms around her, listen to her, tell her it’s ok to be sad. It’s ok to go to bed and hide in a dream for a few days. It’s ok to just stop for a while – do not feel guilty. Just feel. 

We’re both melancholy souls, my mum & I, so I know how she’s feeling. I know that all she wants is to spend a week locked away from everybody else, with nobody else to think about, nothing to consider, no responsibilities and just sleep and be silent. But we can’t give her that – no matter what we say or do for her she will never be able to be that selfish. She is always considering other people and looking after them. She’s so tired from it all but she never stops. 

When you love somebody you wish that you could take all their pain away, at any cost. It’s hard to watch others hurting, especially when there’s very little you can do to help. 

I just gotta be there to give her hugs and hot chocolate. I guess none of us are ever safe from heartbreak. 

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The 5th of October? Seriously? Time flies…

I was meaning to write a post all last week but I didn’t know where to start! Everytime I began writing about something I ended up going in a completely different direction and when I tried to get my thoughts straight I just got very, very sleepy. I spent a disgusting amount of time in bed last week (I have an excuse though – I’ve been sick! Promise!). Anyway, lovely wordpress world, I’ve finally ended up writing this in work. I hope it finds you all well and good, and not afflicted with this bastard chest infection that everybody over my neck of the woods seems to be passing around. I haven’t been able to workout in over a week and it’s driving me MAD! On top of that I’m going to be totally skint this week as I took last Monday and Tuesday off work. I had completely lost my voice so at least my boss couldn’t suspect me of skiving as I croaked and whispered down the phone that I wouldn’t be coming to work… I have a feeling lately that he really doesn’t like me. I really don’t care though – he’s a passive-aggressive little bitch.

So on Monday I really was too poorly for work. I’d had a busy weekend (a great one at that) but by Sunday night it had completely floored me and my voice had packed it’s bags and left. Although once I got over the ‘teenage-boy-whose-voice-is-breaking-into-Barry-White’ phase, I sounded more like the Queen that is Stevie Nicks and now I miss my sexy, 40-a-day habit voice! On Tuesday though, like, I was still sick, but I could have made it into work, if I’d wanted to. I got up at 6.30am and turned the shower on and everything – full of good intentions! But then I just walked around the house talking myself out of going. It was looking to be another rare and beautiful sunny day and the thought of going to work when I could go for a walk and a hot chocolate instead was just soul destroying. I knew I’d end up skint this week and I felt guilty as fuck for a few hours, but once I was outside enjoying this glorious Indian summer we’ve been having, I thought, fuck the money, this is worth it. Case in point – I really can’t stand my job lately.

There isn’t even a full time job here for me at the minute. I spend everyday doing puzzles on my computer, reading blogs, looking at food on Pinterest… Seriously. I need to leave before they check my internet history. People I liked working with before are starting to grate on me… and I’m starting to show it. I have to wear lilac (boke) and listen to radio 2 every single day. Oh by the way I totally know what a spoilt, superficial bitch I sound like right now, complaining about my cushy 9-5 where I don’t do any work… but it’s just sucking the soul right out of me. I sit in this dusty little box of an office all day, all week, with people I have nothing in common with, dealing with customers who truly are simpletons – and I’m not exaggerating there. Here is an email from a legitimate business:

Have use send stuff down to B/E in a taxi today are last night.

That is the entirety of the email. No greeting, no sign off, no subject line (for context, B/E is another business we deal with). I mean, what the fuck? Even ‘yous’, which is not a word, would have been better than ‘use’. And ‘are’ instead of ‘or’? The fuck?


Luckily I still have some holidays to take. I’ll book a few days off to make the most of the wonderful month of October! I’m taking the day before my birthday off to stay in Belfast’s finest – The Merchant Hotel; Then I’m jetting off to Budapest at the end of November. Thinking of my weekends and days off are all that’s getting me through at the minute. Day dreams and memories of walks in the park, feeding squirrels and crunching orange leaves, looking for conkers. Shopping for hats and scarves and new boots then going to the prettiest cafés for hot chocolate. Nights in watching American Horror Story and Walking Dead, cuddling someone I love and splitting a bottle of red… October, you rule. Now don’t get me wrong. – the sunshine the past couple of weeks has been a blessing, but I can’t say that I was unhappy to see today turn dark and blustery. Autumn is my spring – it’s full of change and new beginnings and excitement! In autumn I feel like I’ve got everything ahead of me! Better than that, it’s finally ok to start dressing like a (super stylish) witch again. All black everything baby. It’s given me the inspiration I needed (probably just sugar rushes from all the hot chocolate) to start working on my social media again and apply for the kinds of jobs I might actually enjoy doing. I feel determined now to get out of this hell hole of an office in the new year. Well, I’m not sure it’s determination, more like desperation. On that note, does anybody wanna pay me to update social media, pin on Pinterest and complain about stuff in blog posts all day? I’m like, really good at it.

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Red eyes, blue heart

So I haven’t posted in a few days, kind of trying to stop being so negative but honestly I’m not exactly feeling positive just yet so that means just kind of keeping my feelings inside. And sleeping at every given opportunity… which leads to a lot of nightmares, fyi!

I have actually had a rather busy week which was good cause every distraction is welcome! But I was mentally exhausted by Friday night and cried about four times in the cinema… twice before the movie even started. I feel like keeping busy should be helping me to move on and switch off my brain but it’s still always working overtime in the background. It’s like on the outside I look fine, and I’m functioning and I’m smiling but inside I’m being eaten alive by the seven dwarves: Doubt, Self-loathing, Loneliness, Misery, Malaise, Rage and Despair. (BTW if anyone is interested, I saw Straight Outta Compton in the cinema – amazing! Go see it!)

The thing is, it’s really hard moving forward when I don’t know what I’m advancing to anymore. I wasn’t exactly happy before I met him. Even as a child I remember being sad, lonely, lost, nervous, self conscious and feeling like I was waiting for something to happen. This feeling of waiting just became more and more overwhelming the older I got and I tried to abate it with drugs and alcohol (which of course does not work). Then all of a sudden I fell for him and that was it – it had happened. I was now as happy and confident and downright euphoric as I had been lost and lonely for all those years. Don’t get me wrong I still had bad days, and weeks… and due to a multitude of things 2015 was a bad year but in general I was happy. I was happy with myself, with my life, with my relationship, my routine. I was a happy person, I wasn’t waiting for something anymore, I was living it, it was happening.

So now I can’t take comfort in the idea that “oh you were happy before him you’ll be happy again!” because I genuinely wasn’t. But even then I had the hope that whatever it was I was waiting on (I had no idea at the time that it would be him) would come. Now… it’s come and gone. What if I have peaked? What if that was it? What if it isn’t all OK in the end? What if we just tell ourselves that so we don’t all fucking top ourselves when we have our hearts crushed beyond repair? What if I’m nothing special and I don’t deserve shit (that none of us deserve shit), it’s all just pot luck and circumstance and this is the card I’ve been dealt and there’s nothing that I, or anyone else, or the universe can do about it?

I’m keeping busy, I’m focusing on other things, I’m doing the things I’m supposed to do but I’m not happy – just distracted. My eyes are still full of tears every single day even when I’m smiling, and my thoughts are still fucking full of him.

This blog was supposed to be the place where I just pour my heart out without worrying that I was inconveniencing people because, well, if you get sick of it you can just stop reading (you lucky ducks) whereas if I’m talking to an actual human being it’s a wee bit harder for them to just slowly walk away while I’m mid-rant. But with a few regular readers and knowing that a couple friends read my shit too, I’m now even worrying about leaving my feelings here! But I have to do something with them ’cause carrying them about all day is so fucking tiring. They’re heavy – writing this, in a strange way, is kind of like putting them down for a little while.

I don’t even have a point with this post; I’m not able to round it up to any general consensus or humorous conclusion. My head is fucked, my eyes are red, my body is heavy and every time I dream I can still feel just as much heartache as when I’m conscious. There’s still no relief and it’s hard pretending that it’s getting better and there’s only so long people can sympathise with you for and I feel like a fucking dick.

Now I’m going to watch Celebrity Big Brother (my very, very guilty pleasure). At least I’m not as big a dick as that Teen Mom Farah chick, ugh she’s insufferable! Sorry to anyone who’s sick and tired of me being sick and tired…

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P.S. He liked one of my Instagram pictures. Like, what the fuck?! GET OUT OF MY LIFE YOU DEVIL

Negative thought for the night 

When is trying not enough anymore?

How long can a person try their best before other people give up waiting for them to be good enough?

We’re always told ‘as long as you try your best’, but in real life, trying your best doesn’t always reward you. Sometimes it just screams at you ‘YOU’RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH’, and eventually your chances run out. Even if you’re improving, even if you’re slowly but surely becoming better, time does run out. Then what does it even matter if you’re better? You’re still not enough.

I didn’t have to try very hard at school. I could get a B in most subjects with minimal effort. One year I had to study Spanish. I didn’t like my teacher and that year I was too concerned with feeling feelings and overthinking about them to care much about anything else. You all remember what those teenage years are like… A blur of hormones and underage drinking. At the end of the year we were all sitting in class when we received our final grades. A lovely big E plonked itself on my desk – I didn’t give a shit. The bubbly, preppy, gorgeous, looked at least 3 years older than the rest of us mere children, highly intelligent, super friendly, all singing, all dancing (literally, she was both a singer and a dancer), head-girl to be leaned across to me to ask my grade. I don’t think you need me to tell you what hers was… I showed her my E, not proud yet unashamed. She gave me a kindly, sympathetic look – though how she could sympathise with a bad grade I’ll never know! Maybe she came 2nd once in a Britney impersonating competition and could remember the sting of not being good enough. “At least you tried your best!” She said.

Ehh, no I didn’t. I didn’t try in the slightest. If I had of I would’ve done just fine. In fact I even went on to learn Spanish to A-Level standard in just one year at uni. ¡Te lo dije!

Fast forward to adulthood and I have to try every fucking day. I tried so hard to be good enough for him. He didn’t believe me. I was constantly trying to reach a point that was too far away for me to even see; I just kept going in the blind faith that the finish line did in fact exist. I didn’t reach it on time. He had enough of me trying my best and he will move on to somebody who doesn’t even need to try. Does that make them better for him than I was?

Now I feel as though I have to try my absolute hardest to make myself so good that he regrets his decision one day, be it years from now. But what if I never get there? When I’m laying on my death bed is ‘oh well, at least I tried’ really going to comfort me from the fact that I know absolutely, wholly, 100% that I’m not and never would be good enough?

Sometimes I think I’d feel better if I were sitting back at my desk in Spanish class, satisfied in the idea that I could have if I’d wanted to – whether it was the truth or not. And yet still I’m trying, exhausted, still trudging toward the supposed finish line. Why?

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