They say that it goes so I hope that is shows, you are all that I’ve known for a while.
Sometimes telling someone you love something that could be shameful is the hardest thing ever. Words get lodged in your throat, jammed and unable to be realised. Choking. Fear, embarrassment, shame bubbling up inside. Rejection waiting for you. It can be so difficult to finally tell someone who cares about you, so difficult to admit to something even you found hard to say to yourself. Acceptance of what happened, denial, anger, confusion, and finally relief. Parents are always the hardest, right? Hiding something for years, pulling down a sleeve or a secret girlfriend in the shadows. It can be so challenging to finally get the words out. But what’s worse? The dread. The rejection. The hushed whispers of phases, teenagers and hormones. And you turn against them and build up barriers that’ll last a life time.
And it’s fucked me up,twice now. Maybe more. Backs turned accidentally. Hurtful expression and complete ignorance. Hatred, sometimes. It hurts. So bad. Because we spend everyday of our lives fighting for the approval of someone who we’ve looked up to. Then to have it thrown back, it hurts. More than you could ever understand. For being ill, or being who you are. And I hope one day everybody can step out of the shadows and be accepted. Get help. For now, I still tug my sleeve sometimes. Still tread carefully over a thin sheet of ice. Counting down the days till my 18th birthday. Till I can get help. Because for me, I can’t face the shame and the tears and the oh god what went wrong. I can’t face the blame and the upset, they’ll never know. I’ll always hide. But if you can, reach out. Even if it’s shameful, someone will know. And then, you can build on it. I believe that you can do it. Be strong, be brave, have hope.
I don’t want to sleep. Not tonight, and not last night. I will though, I have to eventually, training again in the morning, up and down and up and down. Everything’s numb now, I wish I had something to take. It’s a stab in the chest to see you protect someone you hardly know, over your own daughter.
What are you scared of, you ask me. What am I scared of? He doesn’t know the word no, pressure weighs down on me, he’s too attached, he hates me, it’s going to be awkward. But at the end of the day, you were worried about him not me, spared me no time of the day. Obviously when I had my ten second break down, but then you went back. Sometimes you’re so oblivious to what I hide, humour me. I think. So blind to everything that happens up here. It’s amusing.
But I can’t think and I can’t sleep and I can’t breathe. Or I won’t, what’s the difference? Don’t want to think about the reasons, the mistakes the awkwardness and the possibilities. Because I’m terrified, terror hidden in a blank wall. Void of emotion. Me. As usual, empty. So for now, I’ll just stare at the ceiling till the blackness swallows me whole.
“Just have a drink and you’ll feel better” -SM
This one is to you I guess.
I like to think this blog isn’t just a collection of my miseries. But maybe it is, or maybe it isn’t. Maybe it’s a collection of things that make up me.
I guess you were one of the things that made up me, well you didn’t make me up but you changed me- for sure. I was never in love with you, that’s obvious now. I sometimes miss you, I know I shouldn’t, and I know we weren’t right for each other. But: I miss our laughs while slaughtering each other on Call of Duty; I miss your goofy smile and your fucking annoying comments; I miss your heartbreaking story and god damn it I miss your need to make everybody happy. I don’t want you back, that’s not this feeling of missing. It’s more just reminiscent, because I don’t regret anything but I wouldn’t do it again.
I know that too, it was sweet, it was short. You were the biggest goof and potential twat I’ve ever met but I miss you. I hope your life is doing well. This is one of those messages I want to write and stuff into a bottle, throw it into the sea. (Except maybe not because I really care about the environment and I still know where you live). So yeah this ones for you, you probably deserve a place in my life.
Weird: I only ever talk about my love life in past tense. – Hope xx
“Books are the mirror of the soul” – Virginia Woolf
For me, there is no greater joy than reading. Getting lost in someone else’s story, someone else’s journey is the most magical, evolutionary thing. To me. Glistening tears and sparking emotions from the simple act of reading a page of words. I’m unashamed of the feelings a book gives me, if I’m honest I don’t usually feel much- but not with books. With books my heart comes alive and I can feel again, and it brings me so much joy and hurt and pain. For me, a book is a masterpiece, taking in 26 letter crafted into art. 26 simple characters that are shaped into something that can turn around your whole life, make everything seem better, worse, happier, sadder, more or less fulfilling. Simply different. For me, reading is the greatest joy on this earth.
– Hope xx
Dappled light scattered across the field of wild flowers, a sea of kaleidoscopic hues sprawling out in front of me, delicate petals brushing against my legs. Daisies and petunias and violets splattered across the ground, olive foliage creeping up the stems as the summer breeze lightly hummed through the air. Oh that summers breeze, just like the warmth of your laugh. The fragrance of sweet honey suckle and consuming lavender drifts across the delicate wind. Hundred of butterflies flutter through the air, landing on flowers before taking off against in a fluster of bright wings and spectacular patterns.
Kites duck, dance and weave across water colour skies as trails of strings are fed through children’s hands miles away. Beautiful, bright kites dives across the horizon and the echo of laughter travels through the air. Time ticks on as the sun starts to sink into the horizon, cascading the meadow in a dazzling orange glow.
The sky, painted with millions of colours and hues more beautiful and vibrant than the next. The colours danced and played in the sky, each brush stoke melted into one another, blending perfectly to create a beautiful picture. Eruptions of pink and lavender and azure streaked the sky, like bottles of ink splashed onto a page. Words couldn’t do the creation justice so instead I just stand there in an awed silence . The sun gingerly sunk below the trees, unaware of the spectacular show she is putting on. And oh that summer breeze, just like your laughter.
“Everything else is a substitute for your love” – FOB
Nerves. Clammy palms and ringing ears as crafted sentences were reiterated, again and again. Words shattered against deaf ears and the clock ticked away. Rejection hung heavy in the air like a brewing storm, flashes of excruciating pain and fear of being turned away. Excuses fluttered off your tongue about teenagers and hormones and phases. Deathly silence followed. No words. Lost for years. The light didn’t seem to breach the surface, I was left on my own to fight them, so close so often yet you didn’t notice. Until, finally, a small bit of light, then tears and recovery and losing control. Again and again, still a blind eye was always turned my way. Breakdowns and high flying followed, rapid turning moods and stormy days where the charcoal of my eyes matched the dense silence, and still you couldn’t see.
But now, now you worry, now the fear across your face isn’t covered in a dozen bullshit phrases and cryptic anecdotes. Now that you’ve lost everything you once had with me, you turn back again. You want back in, but you sealed that door. You locked it, bolted it, made it clear I wasn’t welcome. So I took myself and my pain away, I fought my own battle, proved I didn’t need the figure you were meant to be. I fell and I saw and I felt and I lived and I’m still living, and you’re still there but you don’t share this. This is mine. I built my own walls except you’re on the outside. Don’t expect me to come running back to you, you lost that privilege. You lost that part of me and it’s something I’ll never get back.
The most painful thing about this all is looking into your eyes. Because every time I catch them, all I see is the pain. Those lustful, bronze eyes that used to shine with amusement. And it hurts. Because I wish I could turn back the time and replay it. Redo it. Again and again and again. But I also know how unfair that would be, we played our last game, we lost our last round and in the end I came out with the upper hand. It was unfairly just, I was too late but better late then never. Isn’t that what they say? I know you’re happier now, with someone new, I can’t complain I have someone too. But it’s still like a thousand knifes into my heart when I look at you. Our gazes lock, heartbreak is unmissable. You’re still the same old you. Your laugh can still light up a room. Your eyes still shine onyx and copper hues. Then again, I guess the only difference about me, is being without you.
I haven’t posted in so long oops. -Hope xx