04.05.18

The day had consisted of Google searches of “Will my vagina close up if I haven’t had sex in 10 years?” “Exercises to grow a booty”, and “How to lose belly fat in less than a week”.

I was starting to lose my mind.

Handing in my notice had seemed like such a good idea. Fantasies of staying at home sipping on herbal tea and living my best life, drifted through my head as I typed up mindless drivel that meant nothing to me for 37.5 hours a week.

Instead, the reality was I barely got out of bed; mattress springs were playing havoc on my back and I had put on a shit ton of weight.

Plus I literally had no one to speak to. My pillow had become my new best friend, as well as my pretend boyfriend. Such a promotion!

I had to get out of the house and do something.

But what?

I wasn’t about to spend non existent bus fare, on a journey to nowheresville.

What could a bored generation X’r on the wrong side of 25 do with herself?

See there I went again. Making excuses to stay in my pit. Nope, I was making an escape. I was just gonna go with the flow.

I searched around for a pair of leggings and proceeded to find every other pair of black clothing I owned, except for said pair of leggings.

Defeated, I decided to wear a dress. No sooner had I finished struggling with a pair of tights, that were protesting on going any further than the middle of my thighs; did I spot said pair of leggings, casually chilling on the other side of the room. Where I had tossed them two days ago, when I had ventured to the nearest Tesco Express and cheered myself up with a Chicken Fajita wrap meal deal.

Sighing, I pulled the tights off, debating whether to keep them for when I was ‘skinny’ or toss them in the bin for their disrespect. Deciding on the former, I added them to the pile on my chair that had now become my new wardrobe.

I pulled on the leggings. Admiring the power they possessed as they sucked in all of my wobbly bits and gave off the illusion that my legs and spare tyre were toned.

I walked down the stairs and grabbed my coat and hat from the cupboard.

I opened the door, allowing the sunlight to stream into the darkness.

Fresh air greeted me and the birds sang their jubilant song. I felt as if I was in a Disney film.

Armed with my Oyster card and £10 I had transferred from my savings account, I was ready to explore. I didn’t know what yet, but anything was better than being cooped up in the darkness surrounded by loneliness and stale air.

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28.02.18

Am I really here?

I’m falling in the vast black hole of nothingness. Falling deeper and deeper into this abyss.

Every time I try and stop myself, claw my way back to the top, I just keep falling.

I am an empty shell. Life is a blur. I’m nothing more than a customer standing outside of a store peering in.

I want to do something, be something but forces are stopping me. I am stopping me.

I have become an enemy worse than my enemy. I am my own antagonist. I am the catalyst that is affecting my world.

But how do I stop me? How can I overcome myself?

This question lingers, floating about in the wind of my soul.

I don’t want to be like this anymore. I want to wake up.

Random Monologue: Fake Smile

Everyday I wake up and I wonder if this is really reality? Has one third of my life really gone by? Why am I still stuck in a life that I hate? Is happiness even real? Is this all I am?

These questions float around my head from the moment my eyes open, follow me throughout the day, and leave when my head touches my pillow.

I look in the mirror and cover myself with positive affirmations, pasting a fake smile on my face. This is my make-up. The reflection that stares back at me is not the me I know. This is the person that you all see, but a stranger to me.

This fake me walks around, showing people that all is good and well. Radiating this fake happy. When deep down I am dying inside. Bit by bit I slowly crumble. Struggling to keep this smile from falling down. The scaffolding that holds it up, struggling to keep the weight up and buckling from underneath.

I want to scream at people to help me. I want to cry and claw at my skin. Ripping it off so the real me is exposed. But instead I smile and continue on with this facade; hoping and willing that something or someone will come along and make a big change to my non-existence. That there really is a pot of gold at the end of this shattered rainbow.

One day I will find my happiness. One day I can stop this pretense.

But until that day, I must continue. So I cover myself in fakery, smile one last smile at the stranger in the reflection, and walk out into a world that does not know me.