2014 Review

     Well. Where to start? I ended last year with a quote. "Tomorrow is the first blank page of a 365 page book. Write a good one." I think I accomplished it. 2014 has certainly been a long and busy one. I saw a fox in it's natural habitat for the first time. I saw my first shooting star. I found my person and started my family.
      I'm not going to stand around letting people do whatever they want to me or the people I care about the most without ramifications. I'm tired of staying quiet and fighting from the sidelines. I'm not going to do that any more. People will absolutely know where they stand with me, and I won't beg for them to stick around. I have the people I want, I don't need any more.
      One thing I will say is that it has been better than 2013 by far. I've learned a lot, I've cried a lot, I've struggled a lot. But I've laughed a whole lot more, and I've smiled genuine smiles! I have been so much happier.
     I'm going to carry on improving myself, carry on building my family. I want to push myself to get up early again, no lying in bed unless I'm sick, I want to see the sunrise. I'm going to get back into exercising and eating and drinking better. I will continue to write; my journal, my stories, my book. I'm going to make the time for walks again; on my own, with friends, with my husband, with a dog. I'm going to take more photos and draw more pictures. I'm going to continue studying Japan; the language, history, culture, and Shintoism. I will be even braver, even stronger and even more confident. 
     2013 was the year of survival. 2014 has been the year of change. 2015 will be the year of acceleration. Let's write another good book.

Exhausted

I am so tired. Physically, mentally, emotionally shattered.

My mind took me to a very very dark place the other night. To a depth that I hadn't reached before. I never want to go that far again. It was... Disturbing.

So much is in disarray at the moment. Most of the time I don't know whether I'm coming or going and I have to take each hour as it comes simply to survive right now.

I miss my dog, my safety blanket. Having him ripped away from me felt awful. And now every time I get him it doesn't feel right, like I can't make it the way I used to. This hurts like hell.

I think I need to cling to a new safety blanket.

New Halloween Story

Yes it is true, I have indeed published a new story!
It's only a small one, but there you have it.
You can read it....

Here,

Here.

Or here!


If you liked it, or want to stay up to date with anything else I might publish, please follow, +1, share, like, and tell your friends. Thank you!!!

Bethany Carol Ashton.

That was supposed to be my name. Bethany Carol Ashton. Horrible, right? I've never liked it and I have never had the correct words to say why. Until recently.

It doesn't fit. It doesn't feel right, in fact it feels down right disgusting. I can't stand to be called by this name. It feels sticky, like slime or sludge, it gives me chills and not good ones. It just plain old doesn't feel right and it never has.

There's a book series, called Skulduggery Pleasant written by a chap called Derek Landy. I adore these books. They are the right amount of serious, hilarious, and distressing and 100% worth the reading. Now, in this series people are described as having three names. Their "given name," their "taken name," and their "true name." For instance the main protagonist knows her three names. Her given name is Stephanie Edgley, her taken name is Valkyrie Cain, and for want of not revealing spoilers I shan't say her true name. But you get the gist.

I used to believe that Bethany Carol Ashton was my given name and I had to find my true name, or my taken name at least. I don't think I've admitted to this before, but there it is. I was convinced this was the case for years and I hunted high and low for a nickname that I liked.

I've realised that this wasn't quite true. I did need to find the right name, but it wasn't my true name or whatever. The way that I describe it now is that some people are born one gender. They aren't happy with that gender, it feels wrong to them and they feel like they should have been born the opposite gender. And so they take the actions to change that so they feel comfortable with themselves. And I believe that it is the same with names. Bethany Carol Ashton feels extremely wrong to the extent that the only accurate way I can describe it is that it feels perverse. It's not mine. Which is why I can get so intensely angry and standoffish when someone other than a relative calls me as such.

Effy, however, is mine. Effy feels right. It fits, it's comfortable, it's nice. There doesn't have to be more reasoning behind it than that. No elaborate tale or reference to one of my favourite book series'. Just that my old name didn't fit, and my new one does.

Busy Days

Pretty much everything is changing and evolving. A little is negative, but for the most part it is positive. Prospects are good, I am making changes happen and it doesn't have me shrinking in fear like it has done in the past.

Home life is horrible. It has been for a long, long while, and it's only deteriorating further. But that will be another change that will come in time. Once I am ready, home life will be excellent.

I have almost everything that I need, and that is helping me to keep optimistic when I would otherwise be completely lost. A lot is thanks to my man, who is the greatest and my favouritest person ever. I love you so much Nemui Kuma. <3

I have been musing, however, just how much of it had been down to luck. My luck feels like it has changed over the last year or so. If that is the case, I would have to attribute it to having acquired my own Beckoning Cat. Supposedly they beckon in good luck and fortune. Has Rakkī been doing that for me? Is he really working? I doubt it is a placebo affect as I've not put any thought into it until recently.

If so, is it a sign that I should be putting more faith in Shinto? It isn't a religion per say, as the Kami aren't classed as gods, more like spirits. It's more of a way of life, and a belief in these spirits and the way that they affect the world. Should I try and implement more of these beliefs and see how things go? It is something I will have to think about.

Tell your stories.

You own everything that has happened to you.
Tell your stories.
If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should've behaved better.

Falling Into Place.

So much has changed. So much is still changing. The transitional period is continuing. I'm settling into myself. My true self.

The self destructive, self deprecative, insecure, depressive, obsessive, self loathing, crazy ass woman that I am.

And with all that is an unwavering strength and determination. I can embrace myself, learn to love myself. I know what I want now. And I can see the path lying ahead of me.

It is.... Beautiful.

I am happy. Well and truly, right down to my bones, happy. I don't remember the last time that I had this feeling, but it was certainly years ago.

Years of being squashed and crumpled up. Years of hating everything and pretty much everyone. I couldn't see a way out. I was stuck.

I endured. Waited. Until I could see my way again.

I have scars. Visible and not so visible. But they make me a survivor, not a victim. I'm proud of every last one. Without them I wouldn't be who I am right now.

Stories.

A story doesn't have to be really long to get it's message across. It doesn't even need to be more than a couple of sentences. Here's an example -

"I woke up this morning to find a photo on my phone of myself sleeping.

I live alone."

It's short, it's sweet. It has context, you get the theme from it. It leaves you with chilling thoughts. It is a good story. But it's so short. Of course, it can be expanded upon. The two sentences could be extended to a much longer story, possibly even a book. But those sentences are enough. So little carries so much. That is the beauty of words.

Fortune Cookies

Chinese is one of my favourite foods. I was buying a Chinese take out last year for myself and a friend of mine. And we decided to get fortune cookies too. Now, I'm aware that they are a tradition brought in by Americans, but those things are dang tasty. And I've always liked seeing what the fortunes have to say.

On this occasion my fortune read "Your dearest wish will come true."

I thought, "Oh that's nice. I don't really believe it, but that's nice."

I decided to keep it. It's been safe in my purse ever since in a place where I can always see it. I kept it because I thought it would be a nice reminder to keep working towards my goals and wishes. To make them come true myself.

I didn't really know what my dearest wish was. I hadn't really thought.

Thinking now, I suppose I should have known. There was one thing I always wished for. You know, when you blow out your birthday candles, or when you see a shooting star, or even the first star you see at night kind of traditions. Those kind of silly, childish, pipe dream kind of wish makings.

Every single time I wished for the same thing.

It came true. It was never something that hard work would achieve. A whole lot of luck, definitely, but hard work no.

I wouldn't say that I'm a believer in wishes. I am however a believer that you'll be granted rewards for having the strength to get through tough times. For standing up and fighting instead of backing down. Every time I've been ready to give in there has been something that has pushed me to continue. And there has always been rewards awaiting me at the end of it. Even something as small as getting the chance to see a wild fox playing in it's natural habit one evening.

Magical little moments captured like that have always been enough. However I got my big wish this time.

Now I need to find a new wish.

Muddy Paws

I love my dog.


He is my best furry friend.

As childish as it may seem, he was always the one I would go to when I needed to talk. I'd whisper my secrets to him in the dark and he'd look at me with his dark collie eyes as though he understood and sympathised with me. Maybe on some level he does understand when I do this. He's always been sensitive of people's emotions.

One of my favourite things about dogs, not just mine, every dog... Is the sound of paws thumping on dry earth.

When you get a pack of dogs chasing one another about in a field that hasn't seen rain for weeks and the ground is dusty and hollow sounding... They're going full pelt running around egging each other on and darting around.

It is, quite probably, my favourite sound in the whole world.

Spine Cracker

Books.
They are such powerful and magical creations. They hold such majesty and beauty between their pages. I honestly don't understand how people cannot enjoy reading a book.

I've always been a reader. I've always relished the adventures that they had in store for me. I was read to as a child. A few chapters before bed. Rowling, Tolkien, Adams, Snicket. And as soon as I was old enough for my parents to allow me into town on my own with my own money I would spend it on new books. New adventures. And I would embark on these alone.

I was a spine cracker. I would hurry the first few chapters of a new book especially so that I could put the first crack in the spine of my paperbacks.

But a few years ago, I was stood surveying my shelves. I was originally contemplating my next read, but the more I looked the more I noticed how ruffled my books were beginning to look.
I realised that, while cracking the spine was making them look dog eared and well loved, I was also damaging them.

I wanted my books to look well loved, but I didn't want to ruin them. I could always patch them up, get them rebound in the future... But why should I make myself have to do that? I could just take better care of them and make them last a whole lot longer while still loving them to death.

Do we not treat those that we love with care and dedication? "So why not the same with my books?" I thought.

I haven't cracked a spine since. Not on purpose anyway. There have been a couple of accidents, but for the most part my books have remained beautifully unsullied.

I'm not a spine cracker any more. And, though I thought I would, I don't miss it at all.

Publishing the Drafts.

 There are some things that I wrote on here and kept as drafts, rather than publishing them.

I just had a look through them, and I think that I am ready for the real thoughts to be shown to the world. For everyone to see what I was hiding behind the mask at the beginning of this year. I don't know if the person these were directed at still even looks at the things I post. Either way, this needs to be out there.

I'll differentiate the posts by alternating the sides they're at.

Sometimes it's just so hard. And in those moments, I just want to unmeet you.

I hope that one day, when I'm on a social media website, and the person who fractured me appears on the screen, that my heart won't feel like it's struggling to survive in the middle of an ocean, and my eyes won't flood the world with sad and pained tears.

Sometime in the future, maybe not so far from now, I might not be writing about you any more. Does that scare you? It should.

There is nothing that I'd take back. But I can't say that there's nothing I regret.

"It always shocked me when I realised that I wasn't the only person in the world who thought and felt such strange and awful things."
                  - John Green

Does it not bother you that we barely talk any more? And when we do, topics are strained? Because it bothers me. A lot.

I want to keep smashing myself to pieces until I can figure out a way to make myself whole again.

"In everybody's life there's a point of no return. And in a very few cases, a point where you can't go forward any more. And when we reach that point, all we can do is quietly accept the fact. That's how we survive."

               - Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

 I've been at the point where I cannot go forward any more. I have been for too long.

I'm really not okay. I've been pretending and letting the people around me believe that I'm fine when in reality I feel broken and destroyed.

“If you leave someone at least tell them why, because what’s more painful than being abandoned; is knowing you’re not worth an explanation.”  

I hate how your littlest words, impact me in the biggest way.

I'll be better in the morning.

But not now. The rain is pouring.

My heart is hurting.

I can't make myself happy any more.

I want to bleed, I want to cry.

I want to be gone.

I work so hard to be happy, but it all comes crashing down at night.

My insecurities lurk in the darkness.

My happiness vanishes with the sun.

But don't worry, you'll never know.

I'll be better in the morning.

“Sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together. Every story has an end, but in life every end is just a new beginning.”  

Out with the old. This is another of the few final pieces of baggage that I carry around with me. One that I only remembered I had yesterday.

Time to release it and let it soar. It won't hurt me any more. It shall be my armour.

Don't settle

Sometimes, you have to get knocked down lower than you have ever been to stand up taller than you ever were before.

Sometimes, your eyes need to be washed by your tears so you can see the possibilities in front of you with a clearer vision again.

Sometimes, your heart needs to be broken into tiny little pieces for to be made whole.

Just some things that I've learned about life this past year. Don't ever settle for less than you deserve. I thought I was going to have to. But I realised that I didn't.

I cancelled out the if onlys.
I created what ifs.

Potterhead

Anyone who knows me will be well aware of my love for 'the boy who lived.' I followed his story from the very first book, to the very last film, and I continue to learn about him now with the progression of the website Pottermore.

The past few weeks people seem to have been picking up on it and mentioning my 'obsession' in conversation. I don't know why. It isn't more apparent now than it has been before. And I'm not entirely sure whether or not some are trying to make fun of me for it.

But think what they will, I don't care.

Harry Potter isn't just a book or film character to me, he's a friend. I know a lot of people out there will think me sad for saying so, but whatever.

I get attached to characters in books. Books are my escape, they always have been and always will be. When I was younger I was in dire need of somewhere to escape to. There were things going on, things I didn't understand. And I had nobody to talk about it, because I didn't know how to. On the times I tried it was passed off as an overactive imagination. I needed to get out, of reality, my own mind... Just away to somewhere that felt safer and more comforting. I found that place in Hogwarts.

I found out I had magic, I got chosen by my wand, I travelled across the lake to the castle and got sorted into my House with the rest of the first years. I attended Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Care of Magical Creatures, Herbology. I rode a broomstick, watched my first Quidditch match and played some myself, I collected the cards from Chocolate Frogs, snacked on Pumpkin Pasties and Cauldron Cakes and Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans. I explored the hidden world of magic, visiting Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley, having a Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks with Rosmerta, an ice cream sundae at Flotesques, and avoiding the pea soup at the Leaky Cauldron. I rode the Knight Bus, made friends with Dobby, Hedwig, and Buckbeak. I watched the Triwizard Tournament and danced at the Yule Ball, became a member of Dumbledore's Army and The Order of the Phoenix. I met Hippogriffs, Blast Ended Skrewts, Dragons, House Elves, Threstrals, Boggarts, Goblins, Cornish Pixies, Basilisks and Pygmy Puffs. I faced down beasts, and wizards alike. And in the end I collected the three Deathly Hallows, I fought alongside the rest at the Battle of Hogwarts and watched the destruction of the Dark Lord Voldemort.

Hogwarts was my safe place. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Hagrid, Sirius, Lupin, Fred and George, McGonagall, Dumbledore, Snape, Pomfrey, Sprout, Trelawny, Draco, Neville, Luna, Cho, Seamus and Dean, Oliver, Angelina, Lee, Alicia, Moody, Tonks, Kingsley, Molly and Arthur, Bellatrix, Scrimgeor, Scabior, Fenrir, James and Lily... They were all my family.

I lived in the wizarding world more than my own. It was my lifeline. It kept me going when I didn't know how to handle what was going on within my mind. It kept me safe and alive. And I have found many other people along the way that feel just the same.

Harry Potter was a series that was so creative and enchanting and affecting that somewhere along the line it stopped being fictional for a lot of us fans.

Hogwarts will always be my home whenever I return to it. And I am not ashamed to say so. I will never be ashamed of my love of something that kept me sane and existing.

A Quest of Relief.

This has always been where I write things down that I need to get off my chest. Where I write things down for relief. Hence the title. But now I am starting to write in journals again. Because there are too many people that can read what is going on here. And some of those people I don't want knowing what exactly is on my mind at all times.

I have always been secretive, that is never going to change. I am never going to be comfortable with lots of people knowing what is going on with me. I like to know who knows what. It's a defense mechanism - one of many that have accumulated over time - that I have had for years now. After a lot of people knew my secrets and they bullied me for it, I became very select about what I told and who I told and I kept track of it all in my mind. So that if it ever happened to me again I could track the source down effectively, confront them, and bring them down if necessary.

This method has worked for me very well. And then I discovered this place. A place where I could create my own personal area to vent and release everything that was clawing inside my skull and my chest. Since I was never really any good at expressing how I felt and thought to others, particularly face to face (due to another defense mechanism,) this site was perfect. It aided my therapy, and allowed me to become secure enough in my mind that I could start opening up again. It was my relief.

Was.

Now, a number of people know about this place, and I expected that. And I wasn't particularly bothered about who read what was on here, because it has always been my venting space to make me feel better and calmer. However, now there are people that I know don't deserve to know what is going on in my mind. I will be a little more guarded about what I put on here in the future. It was a place where I could air my thoughts instead of being stupid and putting them all over somewhere like Facebook, for everyone to see. And I admit, that over the time I've had this I have removed posts because I didn't want them aired to the internet. So, my journals will be a place for that from now on.

However, that is only a minor reason for this latest post.

As I have said before, I have been going through a transitional period. Well that has all accelerated. Now I am in a position where I can admit to mental freedom. I feel as though I was like Elizabeth in Drop Dead Fred. I had a part of me that had been locked away on the inside. And I couldn't free her. I had my demons, my shadows to be more exact, that kept me at bay so that I couldn't rescue her. But, with some help, I have managed it. The real me that was locked away years ago has surfaced at last.

I got a haircut. I know, that's a pretty standard thing, particularly for a female. But it was this that made me really see the young girl that had been trapped surface once more. I knew she was there, I could feel her, but this was the first time I could actually see her. The haircut was for a character that I am cosplaying for Manchester Comic Con. It's cut perfectly for that. But this morning, while I was looking in the mirror after straightening it, I realised something. That it is the perfect mirror of how I used to style my hair before I well and truly locked myself away. I was really taken aback. The more I looked, the more I could see her. The same cut, the same style straightened, the eyes had the same cautious clarity that she used to, the mouth had the natural slight upturn... There she was looking right at me for the first time in years.

With her back I am more confident, less anxious and nervy than I was. I am quicker to anger but more controlled, it's fire a steady blaze rather than an explosion. I am more comfortable in my skin, I will stand up for myself and my loved ones with more confidence. The loyalty that brings out the true ferociousness I have is back. I won't tolerate being used, abused, manipulated, and messed around with any more. After all that I have been through I deserve better than that. And that is something that I understand now. I see that I am worth more than what people have made me suffer.

I may not be entirely mentally stable, is anyone truly? It's likely that I'm still going to suffer depression at some points. It is likely that I am still going to hallucinate and have delusions. Even though my shadow man has lost control of me now, the things that I saw and felt weren't always him or his doing. And in fact, some were actually pleasant. I can admit to having pleasant hallucinations in the past, and I suppose that makes me lucky. So even if they're still knocking around, it's fine by me. It's another dimension to my already multifaceted personality. 

With this in mind, I don't believe that I want to keep the title as "A Quest of Relief." It won't be about relief on here any more. If I need to seek relief, I have a more private place for that now. This will be more about musings, and errant thoughts that I feel need to be expressed in a greater manner. So it looks like this area will be getting a change too. It will be renovated. Reinvented. The name will be the first to change. Into what, I haven't decided yet. But across the board, my websites will be re-envisioned. So watch this space, I guess.

And to all of the readers, however many or few you regulars may be, for I know the majority keep quiet... Why you choose to read this is beyond me. But thank you, for sticking around.

Here is to change; embrace it.

Just one thing.

There's one thing that turns over in my mind in the darkness of the night. Because that is the time that you come out to infect my thoughts. When it is the middle of the night, and I am all alone. That is when you leak your way in from the recesses in which you are normally buried.

Accompanying you is a whisper.
"I kept her safe for years."

Kept me safe like I was some pathetically delicate little creature, that was too fragile to look after herself. And so you put poor little me into a box. A box that would protect me from everything the world outside had that could hurt me.

However, your method backfired. You sealed me away, protecting me from everything. Everything but myself. It was myself that was always the worst enemy I had. More problems were caused than fixed.

All you had to do was let me out. Let me face everything. Because I'm not weak. I didn't need that amount of protecting.

When you know.

They say that when you know, you know.

I have never felt anything this powerful, intense, or pure before. I thought that I had. I believed with every fibre of my being that I had. But in feeling this now I know that I haven't.

There is so much that I want now. Things that I never really wanted before. Things that I could never see myself having before. I can see them now. I can feel all of the hope and longing for them now.

When you know, you know? Then I know.

Youngster

There is a time when I was younger that I remember above all else.

I remember being seven years old. I remember listening to my parents scream and throw things at one another in the middle of the night. I remember my mother crying and pulling me into her bed and whispering to me that we were going to be on our own for a while. I remember later that night, when my mother had fallen asleep and I was still awake on the other her bed, my father coming upstairs and making eye contact with me. Just a brief flicker of recognition before he turned away and left us for a while.

I remember that at the same time, my sister was married. I remember her coming to the house. I remember her face being bruised and beaten. I remember that he beat her. I remember not only her relationship, but several other relationships that others had fizzle and fail horribly.

I remember that I told myself in that moment that I could never let anyone in that far. I could never let someone into the deepest well of my existence. I couldn't let them have power over me.

And so ever since I shut people out. If I have a problem, I work it out in my mind, alone. I shut off my heart and mind temporarily. I numb myself. And to this day I do this, without realising that I am doing it. I can't make the words that are on my mind come out. Whenever I'm asked, the thoughts vanish like they never existed. It's a reflex I didn't realise I had created.

It was to protect myself. But in the end it destroys more than it protects.

19/06/2014

Today has been a day for letting go. Letting go of a terrible and haunting past. Cutting away the dead and festering flesh that was corrupting my insides; turning everything to darkness.

Water. For cleansing. Cleaning out the demons and the sadness that they caused.

Fire. To burn away the infection. All of the badness that stung and boiled into hate.

I must admit, I do feel quite empty. But that is to expected. I have just let go of a massive weight. A weight I didn't realise I was carrying until it was too late.

And now there is this hole, a crevasse, that has opened up. And I intend to fill it up with lots and lots of good memories. And adventures aplenty.

Diary of Your Life

Your handwriting. The way you walk. Which china pattern you choose. It's all giving you away. Everything you do shows your hand. Everything is a self-portrait. Everything is a diary.
               
                     -Chuck Palahnuik

Simple Pleasure

“Perhaps the rare and simple pleasure of being seen for what one is compensates for the misery of being it.”
       - Margaret Drabble

Heartbreak and Brain Pain

Break ups can be very messy.

Recently, I made the decision to break up with my boyfriend. It wasn't a decision that I made lightly, and it wasn't an idea that occurred to me over night. For the longest time, he was all that I had. But everything fell apart. There was history there, none to pleasant history, that I couldn't get over. The real kicker was that I apparently hadn't given it a chance. I gave it more than a chance. Getting back together in the first place was the chance. Attempting to push past the memories was the chance. And it is more than I should have given. I tried, hell did I try. But I couldn't do it.

It was messy. It was long, and drawn out. And it was definitely not fun at all. But it had to be done. The relationship was collapsing. I was hating everything about it, and I was hating him. And the thing is, when I get angry and hateful like I was, my natural coping mechanism is to turn it all inwards. Instead of allowing all of that hate to explode at someone else I direct it at myself. I was making myself ill. I wasn't eating much, if at all. I wasn't sleeping. I was vomiting. Stressing, depressing, swirling, churning, boiling... I wasn't well. And I definitely wasn't happy. I haven't had a hallucination for almost three years. I almost broke that record. I've had more delusional moments in the past month than I have had for a long while.

It was time to change. My health is more important than that.

Now, I'm happier. I'm eating. Gods, am I eating! I have meat on my bones again. I'm still delusional from time to time, but I'm not concerned that I'm going to be having a hallucination at any given moment. I'm not vomiting, I'm sleeping better. I have the odd nightmare, but that's to be expected I suppose. I don't feel depressed any more. And most of all... I feel happier.

I have some wonderful and amazing people by my side that are supporting me and cheering me on. I've said it before, I don't have much belief in family values. My friends are my family. And right now, I wouldn't be without them. The ones that have been around for years. And the one that has been around for weeks. I've chosen them as my family. And I love them all very much.

Now I must move onwards. There are many adventures that await me. It's time I went to find them.

I am selfish. I am brave.
I am Dauntless. And I am unstoppable.
Let the next chapter, commence!

Transitional

I know that I've spoken about going through a transitional period in my life right now.
My wardrobe is still adapting to the change. There are still things I am thinking of getting rid of. The list of new clothes that I need to buy is getting longer and longer with every passing week. I feel different on the inside. I'm more confident. In both myself and everything I do. I am improving open myself with every ounce of my being. Perhaps an effect of taking photos of myself? I would like to think so. I have some amazing people in my life that are so insanely supportive. I owe them all of my gratitude for being, well, themselves. They are the best people.
But all that aside, all of this change is a little disturbing. How far do I let it carry me? I want to cut and dye my hair. Get more tattoos. Move away. Travel. Meet new people. New cultures. New experiences. While a lot of these things are something I've always wanted to do, I haven't felt like I needed to do them right away. However, currently I have an overwhelming desire and absolute, all encompassing NEED to do everything. How far do I go?

Apart from that... I am happy. I don't remember the last time that I felt this genuine happiness. I remember feeling the giddy euphoria that goes with the mood swings of depression. But that isn't real. This, is real. And I love it!!

Livid

Everyone is lying about something.

Almost everyone that I know is lying to my face.

I can't trust a single person.

Fuck them all.

Watch them all burn.

I don't need anybody.

I have myself and that is enough.

That will always be enough.

I'm done with you.

Go rot in hell for all I care you sack of piss.

I hope that you choke on all the bullshit that you spew.

The whole world

Seems to be against you. But really, the only one against you, is you.

Fierce

I'm feeling fierce today.

Like I want to make everyone pay for every hurt that they've caused myself or anyone that I care about.

Like I could take apart the Earth just see it crumble.

Like I could collapse a thousand suns. Conquer a million planets.

The beast is hungry today. And I won't do anything to deny it.

Self Image

I have a very poor self image. I hate the way that I look. I always have, but do I always have to?

I've been going through a transitional period in my life. One of the ones where you let go of whatever baggage and crap you've accumulated that you just don't need any more. I've been changing out my wardrobe, exercising more, eating healthier, blah, blah, blah...

Nobody wants to hear about all the same old rubbish like that. So, what's the experiment?

I've been taking photos. Once a day. Of myself. And I only take one. Not a whole bunch trying to get the perfect one. Just one lonely little photograph and I have to be okay with how I look. I have to make myself try and find something that I like about myself in that one picture.

I've only been doing it for a couple of days, so I have no clear results just yet. But, who knows? If I can train my brain to at least think I look acceptable then I can do anything.

Diving

It's like I have this endless well of emotion locked up deep down inside.
And if something or someone manages to delve and dive to those depths, if whatever it is gets really under my skin... Then it awakens the beast.
And the beast really wants to play.

But not today

Be patient and tough; someday,

this pain will be useful

to you.

-Ovid

The Things You Do

Sometimes,
I don't need a reason, or justification of any kind.
Sometimes the things you do just hurt.

They just really fucking hurt.

Out with the Old

I've had enough.

I can't trust anyone. I won't trust anyone.

I'm sick to death of people saying that I'm not alone when I need them, when in reality I am. I am always alone. I have nobody that is actually there for me. And I don't need anybody. I'm used to dealing with my shit alone now so everyone else can just fuck off.

I have come to a decision. I'm going to save money. A lot of money. I'm out of here. Out of this town, out of this county, maybe, hopefully, even out of this country. This is my new plan.

It is going to take a while to gather what I need. The cash, the mental strength, courage. 

However, this is happening. I'm just going to go, and get a fresh start with a clean slate. No people I know. Just me.

The lone wolf rises.

This was something that I posted a few months ago. It still had relevancy when I took it down, but there were some whom I didn't wish to see this. It still has relevancy now. For the most part.

I am not alone. The wolf doesn't need to rise alone. There are people that I can trust, wholeheartedly. I just didn't see them for being swarmed by hate. I see them now. I know that I am not alone.

"The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives."

Strangely All Over

I've had an emotional extended weekend.

On Friday I was at the bottom of the pit. I was the lowest I have been for a long time. Curled up, detesting myself and everything that I am.

On Saturday I was still down in the morning. So I picked myself up. I dragged my sorry ass out of bed. I went to see some my oldest and dearest family friends in their new home. Then I went on an adventure and found a beautiful little village with some amazing architecture. By this time I was way up. I was coasting on a high, feeling on top of the world, and I was so full of hopes and dreams, and possibilities. I don't even know why.

On Sunday I crashed and burned again. Everything positive that I had felt the day before had dissipated and left a bitter and sour feeling behind.

Now, I'm somewhere in between. Floating in the middle. Neither up nor down. Weirdly hollow yet full. I'm strangely all over. And I can't help but wait for the crash back down.

Can't Find the Way Home

You know how, sometimes, people say that home isn't a place, it's a person?

Well I used to have that. I used to have a person that I was so entirely comfortable with that whenever I was in their presence I was more relaxed and peaceful in my mind and heart.

But then of course things changed.

The little protective bubble that I had built around my sanctuary shattered and the reality of it was stunning. It was like I had been dropped into a pond of ice and water. Breathtakingly real, painful, and far, far too desolate.

I've been trying to find myself a place, a little safe haven ever since. I've even tried to call that person home again. Desperately attempting to make it work the way that it used to.

But it isn't working.

To much has changed since then. I've developed into a different and stronger person. Having nothing, nowhere, that you feel truly at home forced me to toughen up and to start making my own wellbeing a priority. I was never a priority before, I was the lowest of the low and my self destruction rate was high. I still have self destructive thoughts often, but I don't act on it the same. Now I try and find a way around it to make myself better.

Anyway, that's not the point. All I'm really trying to say is I want somewhere, something, someone that makes me feel safe like what I used to have. I don't want to feel lost inside myself with nowhere to go any more. I want to go home now, please?

Men

want to fix you,
save you,
or fuck you.

I can't be fixed,
I don't care to be saved,
And I'm no easy fuck.

Intend to live, and love, happy.

“1. Kiss that cute boy at the party, but push him away as soon as he puts his hand up your skirt
2. Smoke a cigarette for the first time, and make it your last
3. Don’t straighten your hair for a week, see how many compliments you get
4. Blast your favourite song even when your mum has told you off for playing it too loudly. Enjoy those 3 minutes of pure happiness before she pulls the plug out.
5. Say yes to going out, you’ll have something to tell your grandchildren about
6. Paint a sun on a rainy day, then stick it to the window
7. Eat the cupcake, you have better things to worry about than those 300 calories
8. Do yoga and meditate as often as possible
9. Stand up for yourself. Someone called you a slut? Someone said you are ugly? Someone said your art work was boring and dull? That is your cue to fucking stand up for yourself and make them speechless
10. Don’t respond to a group of males whistling at you. You’re a human being, not a fucking dog
11. Leave your headphones at home, see how much you are missing out on because you’re always lost in your own thoughts
12. Carry hand sanitizer and bandaids in your purse
13. Wear sexy underwear, loads of leather, a fur coat, heels and purple lipstick. Do it for yourself, not for the hot guy next door.
14. If you’re having a bad day, cry, scream, punch a pillow, throw stuff around. Then you pick up the mess, including yourself and get back up.
15. Smile, be polite and get on peoples good sides for starters
16. Stop waiting for your crush, stop dressing up for the bar man that serves you a free drink or staying extra hours at work for your boss. Stop impressing these dickheads and start impressing yourself.
17. Laugh until you cry, and when the girl sitting next to you in class tells you to shut up, laugh even louder.
18. Do whatever feels right in the moment, laugh, cringe and regret it later. Repeat.”

—

insical

Island

Everyone seems so out of reach. I try to reach out to people but they're so far away from me. Why is everyone always so far away when I need them? I don't want to have to keep telling people that I'm sad, that I need their help, their support. For once I want them to be the one that notices and then reaches out to me. I don't want to have to broadcast it to others any more. I just want someone to pay enough attention to get there first.

Break

I decided that I needed a break from as much social media, and the internet and technology in general, as I can.

I am having a hard time. I'm depressed again. I'm pushing away people that care about me a again. I'm closing up on myself again.

I've deleted my Facebook. I never use Twitter anyway. I'm minimising my time spent on the internet. I will still come on here and update. And I will continue to update my Song of the Week page.

I need some time to myself to take care of personal matters. I need time to heal and to overcome my problems again.

Time is the best healer, so they say.

Wish me luck.

Addicted to You.

I'm addic-
I'm addicted to you
I can't pretend I don't care
When you don't think about me
Do you think I deserve this?

I tried to make you happy but you left anyway

I'm trying to forget that
I'm addicted to you
But I want it and I need it
I'm addicted to you


- Simple Plan

Smile

Just smile, please. I bet you look beautiful when you smile. Even more than you do normally I mean. Please, smile for me.
I want to know what it looks like. What it feels like to be someone who receives a smile from you.

Questions

I want to ask you why you climb over the fence instead of walking through the gap someone made in the wire for everyone to use. I am curious, but I don't know you. We've never spoken a word to one another, only exchanged a smile as we pass.

I want you to ask why I avoid climbing the fence. I want to tell you that I avoid it, because once I'm halfway through doing so, once I'm at the top and I have one leg over, straddling the top... I want to tell you that it makes me feel like I have one foot in the future, and one in the past. I have a moment at the top where I have to pause and remind my leg how to move, how to swing over the fence. I have to remember that I can let go of the past and swing into the future.

I'm not sure why, but I need you to know this.

SO Stupid

I need to stop thinking about you.
I know that you aren't going to be thinking of me.
I mean, come on, I'm nothing.
Abso-fucking-lutely nothing.
You see that too, surely.
So why can I not tear my thoughts away from you?
Why can I not stop?
You won't be thinking of me.
You never will.
So I need to stop thinking of you.

You'll Live

It's a rare kind of emptiness
The kind that makes you feel so full of emotions
Until you realise
There's really nothing there
And it's a hidden fear of trust
That is covered by a blurting of thoughts
Until you realise
All your words are dry and empty
And the words that need to be said, can't
So you'll lay awake at 2am again
Wondering how another night ended like this
And you'll come home and sleep for hours
To forget, so you don't have to feel
And you'll smile and laugh, and you'll breathe
But your breaths will be shallow
And when you're alone, you'll grasp for them
But they will never be enough
And your heart will beat, but a little too fast, a little too slow
And you will love, but it will leave you emptier
And you will look in the mirror and you'll see the blankness in your eyes
And you will turn away
Because you can't believe who you are
And you'll live
But you will only be surviving.

-t.v.

Tonight

Tonight I am sad.
Tonight I am lonely.
Tonight the demons are screaming.
Tonight I need you to hold me.

Irritable

Among relatives, I have always been known as the artist and the animal lover. I have always been the one to go to when one of them has wanted a piece of custom art or advice about animals, particularly the canine variety.

All of a sudden I am finding myself being replaced by a relative I never thought would replace me.

Looking for custom art to decorate a room? No, instead of asking my sister I'll ask some girl I recently met. After getting a puppy? No I won't ask my sister who knows a few breeders and has a lot of contacts in the dog breeding community.

I may as well just not exist for most people any more since being replaced by others for the things that I'm great at.

Matter

All I feel is that I don't matter. Not to anybody, particularly the ones that I am supposed to matter the most to.

Constantly feeling like I'm being used for something, my mind, my time, my company, my body... it's excruciating.

All I want is for someone, anyone to look me in the eye and tell me that I do matter. I do, always have, and always will matter. And I want to believe them.

I want to believe that I'm worth it, because believing that I am not... It is killing me.

What is to come.

Things happen. And more often than not, in my experience, they're not pleasant things. But you stay rooted, suffer in silence, and put up with whatever it is.

Why do we do this? Intentionally put ourselves through a miserable time, blotting out our escape options just for us to continue the way we are, getting more and more stressed.

It's because we're scared of what comes next. Reluctant to walk into the unknown.

We can be told that we can move forward, and we can recognise this truth, but we still don't do anything. It's never as simple as simple as "you can change this, so do it." We will put ourselves through so much pain simply because we are too frightened to see what comes next.

Suffocating

I can't wait to get out of here. I need to get out of here. This place, these people that would call me family but I only call relatives... This isn't home. I'm not sure that it ever really has been.

I used to think that a person, your person, is what home is. But now I know it's more than that, for me at least. I need to have a house where I am completely comfortable, where I am safe and the environment is easy, relaxed and positive.  This house isn't like that any more.

I don't even know how I got to this place where I look at my parents and all I can do is detest them.

I absolutely cannot stand to be in the same room as my father, let alone call him such. I have managed to take back the money that he had stolen from me, but it was so much more than money that he took in the end. He took my positivity, he took my faith, and he destroyed my trust in family. Family means nothing.

As for my mother... I'm tired of the dictatorship she runs. How everything has to be her way or she'll throw a tantrum. I'm tired of having to force down food that I don't want or can't stand just because it's easier than arguing with her about it. I'm tired of her telling me that I am just like my father because I give short answers that often seem like just noise. No, mother, I do this because I've grown weary of conversations with you. All you talk about is the weather, failing that you're bitching about dad. I don't want to hear any of it. I just don't want to know. 

I am ready to leave the family home, and I have been for a long time now. Because if I stay here much longer I can feel that it will be fatal.

Hank Green - Ranting about Books

I can't even begin to tell you how much I agree with all of these book feels.

Cagey

You can keep the beast caged, but you can't tame it.

There is a part of me, a part that I'm not proud of, and a part that I try to keep as tightly reigned in as possible. My inner wolf. No, this isn't a supernatural confession, to the best of my knowledge werewolves are only a myth...

Right now, I'm not safe to be around other people. Especially other people that can't read the warning signs before it's too late. I want to rip, tear, shred, and break apart everything about a certain person. And because I', trying so hard to keep those needs on the inside it is affecting my temper, soiling my thoughts and my dreams.

I'm trying to cage my beast, but it needs out.

Just when

When did I become this person that is crippled by fear and my own self loathing?
I remember being brave and fearless as a kid, but what if I'm remembering it wrong? What if I have always been this person but I've been blind to it.
I don't want this to be me. I don't want to be the kind of person that frets over everything I can't control.
I can't do this.

Can't do right for wrong.

How many times do you have to tell yourself something before you believe it?
How many times do I have to sit on my bed rocking back and forth and trying to dry my eyes , telling myself it is okay before I believe it?
I am tired.
I don't remember the last time that I slept properly. All I can think at night is how useless I am. As soon as this starts swirling I suddenly feel so isolated. All alone, and like there is nobody to talk to. I know that I'm not alone, I have some amazing and beautiful friends to whom I can turn, some that probably even understand exactly what it is I am going through. But I don't want to be told that I should cheer up, that things will get better or any of the other horrible clichés that seem to be all anyone can say in a situation such as this. They don't help, if anything they make me feel worse.
I just wish that I could feel useful. Or even just good at something. I wish that whenever I looked in the mirror I could be at least content with what I saw there. I don't want to be thinking hateful things about myself, who I am, or how I look whenever I do. I want to be able to believe in myself and to feel like I don't have to be insecure any more. I don't want to look at other girls whenever I'm out and think that they are so much skinnier or prettier than I am. Or look at anyone successful and think that they are so much more intelligent and luckier than I am. So on and so forth... All of these thoughts hurt and they make me want to cry and curl up in bed and never leave it.
I guess I just want to be normal. But what is normal? Shouldn't I be aiming for extraordinary? But again, what is extraordinary?
      Nothing makes sense.
      It's all a mystery.
      This is a labyrinth, there is no way out.
      I am lost.
      So freaking lost.
      Forever lost.

Helga Hufflepuff

For any recluse out there that doesn't know a thing about Harry Potter, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry split their students into four houses named after the four founders of Hogwarts.

Godric Gryffindor decided to teach brave and daring students.
Salazar Slytherin decided to teach only the ones with the purest magical ancestry.
Rowena Ravenclaw decided that she would teach the sharp of wit, intelligence and creativeness.
Helga Hufflepuff decided that she would teach them all.

Now, people of the Harry Potter fandom usually sneer and look down upon Hufflepuff as a house. However, this is something that I have pondered from time to time.

People judge Helga Hufflepuff because she said that she would teach them all. They jump to the conclusion that this must mean that she just gets lumped with whatever students are leftover from the other houses. Now, this is wrong. Almost every Harry Potter fan is wrong.

It isn't that she gets the leftovers. What she means is that she will accept any student that wants to learn and won't judge them for who they are. Hufflepuffs can still be brave, intelligent, pureblooded, and anything else in between. But they won't be judged by any of it. They will always be seen for who they are and not for a single defining quality like the other three houses.

Looking at it like this, I think that actually, Hufflepuff is the best house to be sorted into.

You know what?

I'm tired. No, I'm exhausted. I'm living my life in the fantasy world in my head trying to plan and write a book because I can't face the truth.

Reality sucks balls. Why is it so hard to be happy? Why must I feel depressed all the time? Why do I feel like I have to be wary and suspicious whenever anything good happens, like it's going to be snatched away cruelly?

Depression is hard. Especially when people scoff and mock you for saying that's how you're feeling. Excuse me, but you aren't living in my body. You don't know how I'm feeling in my head or in my heart. All you get to see is the portion I decide to show the world.

So I'm living in my head, creating these new lands, and characters, and species, and worldly woes because there I won't be told to cheer up and stop being such a miserable git. Do you not realise if it were really as simple as turning that frown upside down I would have done something about it by now?!

It's getting exhausting though, keeping up this charade and maintaining all of these masks of happiness. I need to do something about this because I will not be beaten down again.

Dear Father,

You don't like me all that much. I am nothing for you to be proud of in your eyes, and you would rather pretend that I don't actually exist as your daughter than acknowledge me as such. Yes, I know this. I remember you getting pissed off on the day that I got my GCSE results because I didn't get any A*'s. My cousin Alice did though didn't she? I saw the look on your face when she was telling you what her results were. I also heard you whine about how my marks where lower than hers to mum later on that day - was only in the next room you know. I know that you're jealous of your brother's family of overachievers. If you'd bothered to look at my results properly you might have noticed that one of my A's was just one mark from being an A*, but that still wouldn't be good for you would it? I'm not good enough for you am I?

You left your old relationship because the woman you were with didn't want children and you did. You regret that decision now though I bet, huh? Is that partly the reason why you sought her out and started talking to her again recently? You know what is the real crusher thought father? The fact that you treat my mum's children and grandchildren better than you treat me and you dance that fact around in front of my face. They aren't yours, they never will be, because they aren't blood related. But I am. However, I get "no," disgusted looks, or silence. Whereas you can't do enough for them, even when you're complaining we're short on money. I don't begrudge them anything at all, I love me brother and sister. I hate you for the difference of treatment though.

You are fat, lazy, and ignorant. You wonder why me and mum don't want to spend time with you? Well it's because all we get when we do is silence, all you do is sit there falling asleep. Or you sit there not saying anything and when spoken to all you respond with are grunts and/or dirty looks. Why would we want stay in the same room as that?

You're a horrible father. Not the worst in the world, I'll give you that. But far from being the best. You're selfish and treat, not only me, but as well, like shit. I can't do much about you right now though, except play dirty. So I do. Yep, it was me that pinched your lamp when mine broke and put it back when yours had stopped working too. Yes, I do make a point to switch off the computer when you leave it unattended during a session - serves you right for leaping up and suddenly deciding that you had to use it instead of your laptop after you overheard me telling mum there were I needed to do on it. I put sugar in your coffee every chance I get, I steal your cereal and yoghurt, and I chipped your favourite mug. And yes, I purposely put screamo and heavy metal on really loud in the morning when you're still sleeping in the morning. Mainly because I love to see the look on your face because you hate that style of music, but also because the lyrics about hate are exactly the kind of things I will yell in your face on the day you eventually make me snap.

You might be my father by blood, but not at heart. I would rather have a father that abandoned me when I was younger than have you. Maybe that way mum would be happier also, rather than being stuck with your lazy ass.

I hate you.

Your passive aggressive daughter.