Balloon

I feel like a balloon. 

Drifting slowly upwards.

A balloon, which was once tethered to this planet.

Tethered by a thread thought to be unbreakable.

The thread broke.

Now I’m floating.

Up.

Further and further into the milky sky.

I feel lost.
I don’t belong here.

I’m not like the clouds that surround me.

It feels as though they mock me for not belonging.

They mock me for not being one with they’re cottony appearance.

Or their watery texture.

They sneer as I float past.

Talk behind my back when I’m gone.

All I want now is to deflate.

Deflate so that I can fall.

Fall down, down, and hit the crust.

The crust of the earth.

Right where I should be.

Back where I should  be.

Crushing Weight of Emotion

My emotions change so drastically everyday. I can feel on top of the world one moment and then, suddenly, I am numb. Seconds from breaking down. And it's all I can do to steady my rapid breaths, and my frantic heart. I constantly feel on the verge of tears. Anger swells in the pit of my stomach like I'm a walking volcano. It is so scary. I am so scared.

The Ever Present Game of Knowing

As humans, we go through life thinking we know one another. But we never truly do. We can know what people like, what people dislike. We can even get a vague idea of what makes them tick. But we will never truly know each other until we see who they are when they're all alone. And that, is impossible.

What Died - What Lives

My name was Bethany.

Bethany wasn't really a nice person. She lied, she bitched, she was violent. But she was never aware she was doing these things. When I was Bethany, it felt like my whole world was fogged over. I couldn't really tell what I was doing, what I was saying, or anything really. I hated myself, I still do, but now I'm learning to live with it, and I don't hate myself anywhere near as much as I used to.

The name Bethany, for me, is now connected to horrible things, horrible memories, and I'm pretty certain I haven't figured them all out yet myself. Bethany isn't only connected to the bad things that I did though, its also connected to bad things done to me.

When I was Bethany, I was fat and I got bullied for it, very badly. Yeah, I turned that around while I was her, but still all I see when I look in the mirror is that 13 stone 11 year old kid. And I probably always will.

Bethany also had the people she thought to be her friends turn their back on her, multiple times. They bitched about her. Told lies about her. Called her an attention seeker. She wasn't an attention seeker, she just wanted friends, and she didn't know how to get them. Because of that, she might have done and said some things that may be classed as weird, or dramatic. It was never to get attention, it was because she didn't know how else to behave. And in return, she lost everything, including the person she loved.

However, while I know I'm not Bethany anymore, I am still Bethany to my family. The reason for that is because they refuse to see me as who I really am. My parents and I have a strained relationship at best. And I know they don't care about me in the way that they should. When I came home and told my mother that I had mental issues I didn't get care or sympathy from her. The first thing she said to me after I told her was "Where did you get that from? Not from me." What I got was her thinking only of how it would affect her life. As for my father he didn't say anything. And now they both pretend that it doesn't exist. And they mostly pretend that I don't exist too. So, as the person I am now, I don't put any stock in family values. I couldn't care less about my family, because they don't care enough me. I see myself as having no family now.

But these are only a small amount of the negative things I have attached to the name Bethany. The rest I am unwilling to share, some I keep to myself, others I haven't figured out yet.

The day that I tried to commit suicide, Bethany died. She was weak, and pathetic, and didn't deserve to live. I am what survived and I have taken a new name. I am stronger than she was, and my world isn't fogged up. And while I'm still scared, every moment of every day, I will keep on fighting, and I will keep confronting my fears because I am so much better than that. I'm trying to right all the wrongs I did while I was her. I know that it is probably impossible. Particularly when some of the people I knew when I was Bethany refuse to see that I am different now. And particularly when people still insist on naming me that worthless person I used to be.

My name is Effy Ashton. Once upon a time my name was Bethany Carol Ashton. But she doesn't exist anymore; and I will make damned sure she never exists again.

*sigh*

I don't know what I expected...

Today I reached out to you. I reached out, because you needed someone to tell you they care. And I do, I care. And you have no idea just how much I care about you. I offered an ear to listen, a shoulder to cry on, a friendly word of reassurance.

I don't offer these things lightly. I haven't reached out to somebody else like this since high school. The time and place where I learned how cruel people can be. And you were one of the people who were cruel to me; yet still, I care!

Maybe I'm a glutton for punishment. Maybe I am eternally damned to be a complete idiot. Or maybe I am too kind for my good. But you know what the funniest thing is? I didn't do it just for you. I did it for me too. I need a shoulder like yours...

Maybe this is a sign that I should just stop trying altogether - close myself off from prying eyes. Every time I try something like this I end up getting hurt, and I generally do it to myself...

I think that it's time to give up on you ever caring for me like I do for you. You never have, and you never will. I don't know what it is that I did to make you hate me, and act like such a jerk to me. Whatever it was, I'm sorry. That's all I can say...

I don't know what I expected from you; but I hoped it wouldn't be ignorance.

Handwritten Letters

I've always thought there is something beautiful, almost romantic, about handwritten letters. I used to write letters a lot. I had a friend that went to a different school and we kept in touch by writing to each other.

But then we both got the internet, and email addresses, and MSN. We exchanged contacts and stopped writing letters to each other, exchanging them for talking on MSN. As time passed however, the amount we talked to each other gradually dwindled, until we stopped talking completely.

I feel that social media is to blame.

When we wrote to each other it was more personal, and more time passed between hearing from each other so there was always more to catch up on. But with social media, its instant and you run out of things to say more quickly.

Being young, I didn't think to save any of the letters, I just threw them out. Looking back now, I wish that I'd had the foresight to keep them because they were a big part of my childhood.
I also wish that I had somebody who would exchange handwritten letters with me now.
But alas, I do not. And it isn't likely I ever will again.

50 Books Challenge

One of my goals was to read 50 books in a year, so in January I marked myself as a participant of the 50 books challenge on Goodreads. There's no prize for completing it or anything, it's just for fun.

A couple of days ago, I finished my 50th book. What did I do to reward myself? I went and bought more books... Yeah, I truly am a glutton for books...

And with that knowledge safe in hand, I am off to continue reading, and most likely finish, the book that I am currently hooked on - Throne of Glass, by Sarah J. Maas.