29.12.18

All my things were packed up into bags and boxes.

I thought I would feel weird. This place had been home for me for nearly 10 years. Well I used the term home loosely. This place had been far from a home.

A home was supposed to radiate warmth. You were supposed to feel safe at home. I was always on edge here. Trapped. I never felt free. Never in control of my own actions.

Today those feeling were coming to an end. I was getting out of here.

It hasn’t all been bad. Hidden down deep there were a few good memories. Nothing that I could recall at this present time, but they existed.

I sighed. I wasn’t sure if it was released frustration or sadness.

I picked up my first box and made my way to the waiting car.

It was over. I was getting my fresh start. I was finally getting my shot at happiness.

After the final box was moved. I closed the door and got into the car. As I did up my seatbelt I refused to look back. I had already said my goodbyes long ago.

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24.12.18

The house lay silent, excited minds had fallen quiet long ago, lost in deep pits of sleep.

I sat downstairs amongst rolls and rolls of wrapping paper, illuminated by the lights of the Christmas tree.

It was so like me to be so last minute. I had to be better next year.

A cup of cocoa floated above me as Dan handed me a cup. Trying my best to escape the destruction that lay all around me I reached up and grabbed the cup. A melee of small pink and white marshmallows bobbed on top of the chocolatey pool.

I took a sip of it, the world seemed to stop and time stood still. I was at one with this mug of hot sugary goodness. I could kiss Dan, in fact I was.

I placed the cup down on the coffee table. Got up and placed my lips on his. A startled look crossed over his eyes before he could take it all in. I pointed up at the mistletoe hanging from the ceiling and he relaxed. Our lips found each other again and danced together.

He tasted like cinnamon, I wanted this kiss to last forever. I had wanted this kiss for forever, ever since Olu brought him home all those years ago. Now I was. The teenager inside of me danced and giggled with glee.

Our kiss intensified and my senses were turned up a notch.

This was my Christmas gift, all unwrapped and ready for me.

We broke free from our enchantment and I looked down at the floor. Shame flamed my cheeks.

It’s funny hour the spur of the moment can have you doing all kinds of crazy things, but that moment after. Wow the shame is so powerful.

I looked up and he was staring at me. He held my gaze not allowing me to break free of his eyes. The same eyes I had wanted to gaze into mine like this, for so long.

He took my hand into his and stroked my thumb.

Our eyes spoke unspoken words and our mouths began another dance. I guess the wrapping could wait another hour.

23.12.18

Five broken bottles lay at my feet. Five bottles that once had a purpose, a reason to exist, lay broken at my feet.

It wasn’t an accident. I did it on purpose. I allowed them to fall from my grasp. I allowed the glass to shatter and spray upwards as the bottles hit the floor. Allowed the wine to pool around the floor as it finally managed to gain its great escape and flow steadily to my perfect white rug.

You didn’t see me. If you did, would much have changed? You still would’ve done it. You turning around and seeing me wouldn’t have turned back the clock and stopped you.

All that might’ve happened was that you would have been aware that you had been caught. Aware that in that split second, when I allowed the five bottles of wine to drop from my hands and crash towards the ground, that you had broken something inside of me.

And even though my heart was still beating, blood was pumping through my veins and breathe ran through me. I had died. In that split second just before my hands that were carrying five bottles of wine that you loved so much, gave way and allowed them to begin their descent downwards. You had taken a huge carving knife and stuck it deep down into my heart.

The glass crunched under my feet as I made my way over to you.

19.11.18

Most of the time my head feels like it’s stuck in a cloud of fog. It’s heavy, weighted down by worry after worry after worry.

I’m a prisoner shackled to doubt.

I want to break through. I want to be brave.

My feet edge closer to the sea. The sand feels hot under my heels. My eyes are closed.

The sun beats down on me and the sounds of the waves guide me. One more step and I’ve made it. The water pools around my ankles and I open my eyes.

I turn around and scan around the beach for you. When I finally locate you a feel a tingle run through me. This is happiness. This is a moment that I will store forever in my memory banks, and pull out when time doesn’t feel that good.

When even the sun itself can’t gage a smile from me. When the envelopment of a duvet is more appealing than getting up and facing the day. I look back to moments like this and they make me feel almost human again.

They remind me that this is not forever. That the storm will come to an end.

I lock eyes with you and your smile draws me back to the shore.

14.12.18

I feel like I’m drowning in the middle of the ocean and that someone rescues me but then drops me back in and then rescues me and drops me back in again and again. Over and over.

Spluttering and gasping for air. Over and over again.

Wanting help but never finding it. Searching for a way to end the suffering that I never asked for.

This is my cry for help. This is me shouting at the top of my lungs, that I need help.

I have never felt more lost than I have now. Or maybe I have. Maybe I’ve felt worse than this before, but I shut it so deep down that I forgot and it’s not even a distant memory anymore.

I used to have days when I would wake up and happiness would spread all around me. Wrapping me up in a cocoon of love and joy. I felt safe. I felt worthwhile.

I haven’t felt that way in a long time.

My eyes are a constant red, bloodshot from hours and hours of crying. Constant bad thoughts drip dropping inside of my head.

I need help.

When will there be a day when I can truly be happy? When will there be a day when I’m not constantly battling with myself? Thoughts of me dying frequent me way too often then I would like.

I want to live I squeak. I want to experience great things. But the black smog stifles my words, it stops me from getting them out.

I need help.

I long for it to leave me, my constant unwanted companion. It sits on my chest, squeezing every essence of joy out of me.

It robbed me of my smile and every time I ask for it back, it laughs at me. At least it gets to laugh. Real laughter has not visited me for years. I’m so used to laughing fake laughs that they have become part of me.

I need help.

I want to shout it again. I want everyone to hear me. See that behind this mask that lies to everyone that I’m okay, that I’m alright; I’m really not. I’m not okay. I haven’t been okay in a long long time.

I need someone to guide me home. Help the me that is wondering around out there, lost and confused and just wanting to come back.

The me that once saw a destination further than the end of the rainbow.

That me, wants to come home. So please if anyone can hear me.

I need help.

12.12.18

I stare at myself in the mirror, allowing my towel to drop. My eyes automatically scan the parts that I hate.

My breasts are too saggy, my stomach too big. My arms too flabby, my thighs too dimply, butt way too flat.

Why is it that the good things never come to light? I never see the things that are supposedly positive about myself.

I was never going to be good enough. Never going to be the supermodel that I thought I needed to be.

I picked my towel up and hurriedly wrapped it back around myself in disgust. I tried to control the tears that were fighting to come out, my reflection was far from my best friend.

Why couldn’t I be the pretty one? My life was shitty enough, and here I was the most ugliest on the shelf. It was no surprise that I was single, I must repel men so badly. One look at me and they felt sick, I knew it, I mean what else was the reason?

I had been single for so long, a man had not touched me in so long. I was ugly I knew it. I should just get used to it. No man would or could ever love me.

I was the rotten banana, the crushed rose, the broken biscuit. Who would want me? Who would want to love me? I didn’t even love me! Why would someone else?

I wrap the towel tighter around my body; my nails digging into my skin, and let the tears fall.

11.12.18

I pound away at the punching bag. The punches getting more ferocious.

Intense thoughts bounced around my skull.

I was so tired. In fact I was fucking tired of being fucking tired. Tired of crying frustrated tears again and again.

Victimising myself. I had turned myself into a victim.

I was tired of crying myself to sleep because life hadn’t gone the way I wanted it to. But who lived the life they wanted or expected?

My teeth were worn from contestant grinding and clenching. I was way past fucked up. I kept punching my way through life trying to remind myself that I was still here.

But was I though. Was I really here? Was life even real? Was this all just a social experiment for some rich bastard’s entertainment?

My eyes close on an existence that I hate. I’m angry. I’m hurting. I want it to stop. I want it to end. Why am so negative?

I want to stop, but it’s hard. So I come here and I pound this bag. Pound out all my frustrations until I’m weak, and all the negativity floods out. Making way for the next instalment.

08.12.18

Eyes heavy. Soul heavy. Body heavy. Joy gone.

Love lived here once upon a time, but it’s long since gone. Cobwebs dot the corners of a once happy home.

I clench and unclench my fist as I lay flat out on my bed. Spots of sunlight peak through holes in the curtain.

I want to get up but I can’t. I’m so weary. I’m weak. I feel heavy. Squashed.

I’m forgotten here. Here I forget.

A smile appears on my face and disappears soon after. My heart beats a steady pace.

I’m at peace. I could be happy. I’m ready to move on. But how can I move on? Life is a rollercoaster and mine is the coaster in the wild, the one that doesn’t stop even when the leaver is pulled. My coaster keeps on going until is crashes into the other coasters and makes a bloody mess.

I am a mess.

I need to get up. But I don’t want to.

I need to get up, but I can’t.

Get. Up.

04.12.18

I was too nice of a person. That’s what it was. The nice side of the coin. The good cop. The road walked over more.

Why did people always walk all over me? Did I have push over tattooed on my forehead? Was I just an easier target? Did others thrive on making themselves feel better by making me feel worse?

I was in a state of pure and utter confusion.

Confusion as to why, someone would do this to another person.

Why would you do it?

I mean you really had to hate someone so strongly and think that their life was oh so meaningless that you could or even would do that.

I felt betrayed, a part of me was taken away.

Trust had always been a fragile passenger, but not it was well and truly broken.

I stood there as the rain poured down on me. I didn’t care that I was soaked, I didn’t care that all my makeup had washed away and my hair was a limp lifeless blob.

All I cared about, was that my life had been shattered, twisted, snapped in two pieces that would never glue back together.

Steam began to rise as the cold droplets battered against me. Yet still I would not move. My eyes matched the sky as the tears continued to pour.

And I continued to stand there.

30.11.18

My eyes were heavy and I began to drift off into a pizza induced coma. Nick had just stepped out to get us some ice cream. The fancy kind this was a celebration after all.

The credits began to roll and my eyes fluttered to a close.

I woke up to the vibrations from my phone. I groggily rolled over to put it on ‘do not disturb’, when I saw 30 missed calls. It was past 1am. Where was Nick?

I pressed my thumb to the home button and unlocked my phone. They were all from Dan? Why was he calling me after midnight? Why so many calls? Where was Nick?

A sick feeling ran through me and I quickly snapped awake.

I rang Nick’s number, no answer.

Where was he? He had only stepped out for ice cream. That was hours ago. Fear began to rock me. I called Dan back. Voicemail.

What was going on.

I began to pace up and down, as I continuously called Nick and Dan, getting voicemail each time.

I placed my phone down carefully on the kitchen counter and stared at it intensely, willing something to happen.

I must’ve sat there for almost 40 minutes before the name Dan flashed up on the screen.

I don’t even remember picking it up, but the next thing I knew I was on the floor. Tears overtaking me.

Dan was coming to get me.

I prayed I had time to say goodbye, even though I didn’t want to.

Dan said that there was nothing they could do. The damage to his body was too severe, there was no hope for survival.

Please let me have enough time to say goodbye.

Anger overtook denial and I threw my phone at the wall. I watched as the glass screen shattered on impact.

Why did we even need ice cream? I hated ice cream. I only liked the fancy stuff.

It was a cause for celebration he had said. We have to round the night off with ice cream. I’ll be 20 mins tops.