Fuck this.
For so long I’ve wished I could look like this again.
I’ve hated the fact that I no longer have the willpower, or strength (or self-hatred) to make myself look like this.

This was me when I was having an adventure, I knew that I was loved, I was young and tanned and free.

But I had also not eaten anything but meat in 3-4 days.
I made myself do sit ups until I felt I couldn’t do any more.
I was 100% focused on making myself look better than I felt I did.

No matter what, we will dislike how we look, or look back at what could have been or what was. We will never feel completely ok with who we are, and overcoming that is what makes us beautiful.

You know what? Fuck this. Fuck YOU.

So I had a dream, last night, where I met an ex and their fictional new girlfriend and there was a lot of drama an arguing and stuff and then I ended up having a heart to heart with her and saying I hoped she loved him as much as I always would and that she made him happier than I could.

And then I woke up really confuse cause I have no idea where that comes from - I honestly don’t think I feel that about him at all.

WHAT IS YOUR GAME, SUBCONSCIOUS?!

Looking through old pictures, only to be hit by the sudden realisation this used to be my figure.
Some serious exercise must be done!

Pretty much me when I left for Portugal!

I was wide awake, just like I am now.
I was excited for Christmas morning skyping my best friend who was a world away.
I was texting you, and I told you I love you, and I was scared I might lose you.

Now she is back, and you are gone, and somehow I feel exactly the same mixture of happiness and longing.

I am Haunted by memories of how happy I was.

I dreamt of you last night.
For some reason, your family wanted
us to spend time together.
And so we did.
On a pedalo.
And all of a sudden, we realised that nothing had changed and we were the same as a year ago and we loved each other.

I woke up happy.

Our goodbyes were only ever temporary.

Im gunna use this as a space to vent as I’m pretty sure you won’t end up seeing it (although a part of me kind of hopes you do.)

We were best friends. I loved you, and you made me laugh and we were really, really similar. Coming home from Lisbon, you were one of the people I was most psyched to see.
Ad we made silly plans we always knew we’d never keep - our month long voyage to Italy is a prime example. I remember when you told me you weren’t coming out to visit me, I was so disappointed and had wanted to see you so much, I cried.

I know that I was (and am) a difficult person to be friends with, and things weren’t always a bed of roses and we had our fair share of disagreements and being annoyed with each other but I definitely thought we’d stay close for a long time. And then at the beginning of the year - around Easter time - something seemed to change. We changed. It sucked, cause I think we could both see we were growing more and more distant but couldn’t stop it. And i know i was in a pretty messed up state at the start of this year and i realise that must’ve been difficult for you to feel you had to deal with, but it seemed as if You were constantly angry with me for being unable to be happy. As if you thought I simply wasn’t trying.
It felt as if you withdrew from everyone you were close to and I didn’t know how to break through that, or how to get the old you back.

You were the first person outside of my family to give me a proper nickname. One of the only people I felt properly comfortable around and could discuss anything and everything with, and snuggle in a completely platonic (despite what everyone thought!) way. Heck, you even made me go to the gym.

For a while I was angry, and Hurt and a little bitter. It felt like you’d given up on me and simply decided I wasn’t worth the hassle ( tbh I wouldn’t have blamed you of that was the case - I’d’ve just appreciated being informed!)
But now I’m not angry any more.
Now I just miss you, and am sad that it seems like we can’t go back to how we were. Most of all, though, I am glad we were such good friends, even of it didn’t last as long as we expected.
XxX

You win some, you lose some,
I guess you’re just someone
that I once had but then lost.

You can love many people.
You can, over time, be IN love with more than one person.
You can be madly, irrevocably, in love with someone. SO much so that you cannot breathe without them, can’t think when they are near, and can’t seem to bring yourself to function or to care when they are not there.
And then you can find someone who loves you, who makes you feel like you are worthy of love. Someone who makes you love yourself.
And there’s the difference.

I loved B so much – too much. It burnt brighter than anything in my life ever had, scorching through the darkness. But it was scalding, and all-consuming, and it couldn’t carry on forever. Eventually it burnt out, destroyed itself.
And it left me broken. Burnt.
It ached, and twisted, and try as I might, I couldn’t seem to stop from picking at the scars; I couldn’t simply let it go because it was the best, and the worst, and the first something to mean anything.
I know, now, that I will never love anything, anyone, like I loved him. I won’t ever fall headlong into an ocean; I will never again be both unable and unwilling to drag myself to the surface, to break the spell cast by promises of love.
I won’t ever love so freely, so eagerly, and so fully – I can’t let myself be consumed by love, again.
I will never love as naively, as purely, as I did then.

And then there was D.
Who made me laugh, and stopped me from crying, and who stopped the voices in my mind from calling out to me, from ensnaring me. He calmed me down, and brought me back to earth, and kept me safe. He kept me safe and wouldn’t let anything hurt me, even myself .
And he was like a drug; the more time I spent with him, the harder it seemed to be apart.
If he was the drug, then I was the addict – risking everything, doing anything, to get my fix. To keep him close.  This newfound need for affection (for him) made me selfish.
It was a different kind of love, the slow-burning, comfortable heat of a fire on a winters night as opposed to the destructive flames of an explosion.
It was the kind of love that kept me smiling, knowing that I had someone to catch me, rather than sending me hurtling off cliffs, without a second’s consideration that it will probably result in my falling to my doom.

And as for whoever comes next?
I don’t know how I will love them – sometimes I don’t even think I will be able to love anyone again.
(Sometimes I hope I won’t.)
I like to think that they will be somewhere inbetween my two former loves – the perfect shade of grey. I like to hope that they will make me feel safe, and calm, and cherished. That they will also make me want to be reckless and take risks and be alive.

Deepest depression, darkest desires
Mix them together + you’ll get the blue fires. The Blue Fire’s.

Some feelings that are good, some’re bad, some make me happy, others make me mad.
A little bit of sad a little bit of cruel a little bit of loneliness at school, and of course…

Deepest depression, darkest desires
Mix them together + you’ll get the blue fires. The Blue Fire’s.

I WAS NINE. WHAT THE HECK. WHY WAS I SO CRAZY?!