Tag: life

Are We Still Friends?

I don’t know if I was ever yours, but you used to be my best friend. You were the only person I could really be myself with, someone who understood parts of who I am when others could not because they were part of you too.

But now? You barely text me. If it weren’t for me, we probably wouldn’t talk at all. I know that when we’re both at university we don’t really talk. Yes, at the beginning of the summer you would text me to hang out quite a lot,  and that made me so happy. I felt wanted, needed even. But now it feels like we’re drifting apart, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if that’s what you want. Is it?

It feels like we don’t have as much in common anymore. We can’t complain about our subjects together anymore, or the stress we’re under, or all the work we have to do. We can’t talk about TV shows that aren’t on air anymore, or teachers that we no longer have. We can’t debate things we learn about because we learn different things. So what do we have? What do you want to talk about?

Friends fall out of touch, I know they do. That’s life. But I don’t want to be alone. You have all your other friends, your huge group chat, all your uni friends who you are so happy with, and I have nothing, and no one. Just my misery for company aside from you. I have a few people, here and there, yes. But we could be so great together, like best friends again. But I can’t see how you could want that too if you don’t ever talk to me.

So I just have to ask you this. Do you still want to be friends? Do I mean anything to you? Because at this point, I’m just not sure.

Trust Me, You Are Amazing

Trust Me, You Are Amazing

I am more confident than I ever was. Admittedly, it would still be a stretch to say that I love myself – I still have a long way to come – but I no longer see myself as an irritation to others. I don’t worry that people find me annoying, that people don’t want me. Because I’ve realised two key things.

1. I am amazing and unique

Yes, I’m aware of how arrogant (and cliché) that sounds, but realistically, when it comes to self-love or even self-acceptance, a bit of arrogance is okay for everyone. And it’s not just me; everyone is amazing in their own way. Everyone has those things which make them sparkle, and their character shine through no matter how tough their outer shells are.

For a long time, I compared myself to other people. I looked around me and saw other people, with dozens of friends, interesting hobbies, gossip to share, knowledge of politics and the world to discuss. And then I looked at myself. I had few friends, few hobbies, and very little interest in detailed discussion of current affairs. So… what did I have to show for my worth? I didn’t have what other people had, so I assumed I had nothing… that I was nothing.

But recent events mean that I can now see that that’s not true, and these things make me someone who I should be proud of:

  • I love with all my heart. I would never abandon any of my friends if they needed me, no matter what. If you open your heart to me, I will feel your pain like my own and drop what I’m doing to hug you and cry with you if you want me to.
  • I would do anything I can to help you and make you happy. If you have a slight problem, I would do anything I could to fix it or scour the entire internet to find a solution, whether you ask me to or not. All I want is for my friends to be happy.
  • I forgive. I don’t hold grudges; anger doesn’t come naturally to me. If you did something bad to me, if you wanted me to forgive you, I would. I’m not petty. Why make us both unhappy? I just want us to be friends.
  • I don’t forget those I love. If I loved you once, I will love you forever. Even if we fall out of touch, if after years you come back to me and you need me, I would be there for you as though we’d talked every day, because I still love you. I don’t forget.
  • I’m a poet. Yeah, my poetry might not be all that great, but not many people have the courage to express their darkest secrets in verse and share it with the world.
  • I can get passionate about anything. A character in a book, a moment in history, a particular figure, if you wanted a debate I would debate with you about anything and get very passionate about it. (Oh, and I’d win, of course.)
  • I trust. If you prove to me that you’re worth it, I would let you in entirely. I would tell you everything, so that you could know me completely. I wouldn’t hide anything from you or lie to you, because you are important to me and I value you. Don’t misuse my trust.
  • I would never let you down. Enough said.

This may not seem like much to you, but for the past year I looked inside myself and found nothing. I found nothing about myself that was worth sharing, nothing that made me worthy of having friends, of having people who cared about me. But the last few weeks, I have been finding myself again, and this is what I have found. I know that there’s a lot more to find, though, and as cliché as it may sound I’m looking forward to future challenges which reveal to me and to the world who I really am.

2. If anyone treats me less than I deserve, they don’t deserve me

I hope that you’ve come to see now that the thing that I am most proud of when I look inside myself is my kind heart. I am not horrible. I’m not perfect, no, but no one is. Occasionally I get overwhelmed and I might say something I don’t mean. I will apologise profusely, do anything I can to make it right, and hope that you will forgive me. But if you can’t forgive me for an accident, you clearly don’t value me the way that I value you. If one moment of recklessness outweighs everything you liked about me, I clearly didn’t mean enough to you.

If you don’t value me, then you deserve my unreserved love.

As much as I want to, I can’t give my love out for free, because I will only get pain in return.

 

So, when you look inside yourself, what do you see that you love the most?

Only Love

I don’t forgive you but I still love you,
It’s only that love that I want to give you,
I won’t hurt you, or abandon you,
I’ll always be there for you,
Do anything for you.
It seems you just don’t want me to.
I have scars on my soul because of you.
You hurt me so much but what hurts me still
Is that you won’t let me talk to you.
I have so much love in my heart to give you,
To give everyone.
But no one wants me to.
I would do anything for any of you,
If you were sad I would cry with you.
I’d feel your pain as though it were my own,
And I would hold you in my arms as long as you wanted me to.
Why won’t you let me?

I don’t have room for hate in my heart,
I try but despite everything I just can’t hate you.
Some part of me does, that’s true.
But the moment you say you’re ready
I will throw that part away all for you,
But you never will, will you?

My Periods Are No Secret; Quit Cramping My Style

Periods seem to be regarded as such a dirty thing. Everyone knows they happen, around half the people in the world have experienced them… yet no one talks about them. Menstruation is the worst-kept secret about women ever. But it doesn’t need to be a secret at all.

I still remember getting my first period. I was 11, in art class at school and I began to notice something… different… down there. I didn’t think much of it at the time. The thought that I might be bleeding from my vagina didn’t even occur to me, although of course I knew what periods were. I guess I just didn’t feel old enough, I assumed I’d have a few more years before I began to grow up. So when I next went to the toilet I got a bit of a nasty surprise.

How could I tell my mum? That’s what I was thinking the whole way home. What should I say? Now, I know that I should have just been outright and said, ‘Mum, I’ve started my periods.’ There’s nothing wrong with saying that. But I couldn’t say the words. I was so embarrassed, so ashamed. Ashamed? Of growing up, of something I have no control over, of something which is actually a gift meaning that I can have children in the future. Ashamed of being a woman. Yes, I was ashamed. And scared.

Young girls are taught about periods in a way which instills in them a sense of that natural cycle – menstruation – being something unclean, and secretive.  We were taken away one day from our classroom and our teacher, taken into a different room in the school, away from everyone else, like what we would be told was gravely serious and unmentionable in the classroom. We were told about periods, about what we should expect, how they worked, and then we were sent back to class with the boys and it was never mentioned again in school.

None of my friends at school ever told each other when they started their periods. The only way I could tell was the sound of a pad being ripped open from the next cubicle. But even then, no one ever told each other. No one complained about cramps or tiredness or ever gave any indication about their struggles during that week. Any joke about periods in response to someone being in a particularly bad mood was met with a sassy look if they weren’t on their period, or breaking eye contact and a slight blush if they were.

But why?

Periods aren’t dirty. Yeah, admittedly, they may be a bit gross sometimes, but as a topic they aren’t dirty. They’re not immoral, they’re not defiling, they’re not uncivilised. They’re part of life. So why are we not allowed to talk about them? Having to be silent to fit in with society not only generally silences women for no reason, but means that women with menstrual abnormalities often suffer unnecessarily because they don’t know what is normal.

Recently, I’ve been so much more open about my menstrual cycle. My best friend and I complain to each other about cramps and everything else that comes with being a woman, just as we would complain about things if we felt ill for any other reason, and it’s so liberating not having to suffer in silence any more. When I’m older and (hopefully) have a daughter of my own, I’ll do my best to teach her to be open about her periods so she won’t have to feel the embarrassment that I felt for a long time, and I hope that the future brings a time where women don’t feel the need to hide something which is completely natural and should actually bring us together.

Worthless

Worthless

In my lowest days, I feel so incredibly alone and unwanted. Something in me tells me that I mean nothing to the world, that I have no worth, that I might as well have never existed because I’m just not enough of anything to have any impact on anyone’s life.

I feel useless because I can’t make proper conversation because I get too nervous. But also because I have nothing to say that anyone would be interested to hear.

No wonder the only man who’s ever paid any attention to me, the only person I’ve ever cared about in that way, the only person who’s ever liked me enough to make me their girlfriend, dumped me after only a few months. I don’t blame him. I’m boring as fuck. What could I really give him other than my body? Nothing. I have nothing. I am nothing.

I have so few people who really care about me. I feel so alone. If I was falling, who would run across the country, across the town, even, to catch me? No one. I have no one. I’m so alone. No one loves me because I am nothing. You can’t love nothing.

I am so jealous of people who have a group of friends. True I have a few friends, scattered about, but for a long time I’ve wanted something more. I’ve wanted a group of people who hang out together all the time, who have a group chat, who message each other constantly, who all love each other.

But I’ll never have that. Never. Who would want me?

When he broke up with me, when he told me that he didn’t want me anymore, he said that we never talked about anything meaningful. That I couldn’t talk about the things he wanted to talk about.

I know that he wasn’t deliberately trying to hurt me, he was just being honest about how he felt. Like I am now. But even though I don’t want him anymore either, and I really shouldn’t care what he thinks of me, I just can’t shake what he said to me that night, because it’s true. I couldn’t talk to him about the things he wanted to talk about. I can’t talk to anyone about anything. Polite small talk is fine, but beyond that…? What do I have that I can say? I have barely any interests or hobbies to talk about. Nothing interests me anymore. I’m empty.

I don’t live; I exist. All I’m doing with my life is whiling away the hours until one day I’ll die, alone, having achieved nothing. My family will go to my funeral out of obligation, bound to me by blood that they couldn’t change if they tried. There’ll be few friends. Maybe there’ll be some tears. But what is there about me really to miss?

 

Hello

What if I don’t like you?
Or you don’t like me?
Maybe I’ll say nothing and I’ll
Sit there silently.

You’ll think I’m rude or stupid
Or maybe I’m just dull.
I have nothing to speak of
And nothing in my skull.

But what if I’m just shy?
I’m terrified of you.
You sit there so relaxed
But I don’t know what to do.

Should I say hello?
That’s the right thing to do?
Or hey or hi or howdy
Or how goes it with you?

Should I shake your hand?
Or d’you think that is too formal?
What is it that I should do
For you to think I’m normal?

I just don’t think I know
What people want from me.
I’m afraid of doing wrong;
Of being unmannerly.

So I guess I’ll just be safe,
And sit there silently.

Regret

Regret is a terrible feeling.

You’ve done what you’ve done and you can’t change it for anything. But you desperately wish that you could.

You wonder why you even did it, why you were so stupid. With the light of hindsight shining on that moment, you know what you should have done, or rather what you shouldn’t have done, and it seems so obvious. Why couldn’t you see?

What would have happened if you’d done the right thing? Would life be so much simpler now? Would the tears rolling down your cheeks cease to exist?

In your mind you see a different present, a different future, altered by that key moment. One different decision; a very different outcome. That reality is so close, so similar but so unattainable because you can’t go back and do it again.

Regret can be crippling, and guilt often accompanies it. You might see yourself differently for the way you behaved, that thing you might have said or did but didn’t mean. Why did you do it? What did you think it would achieve? How can I take it back?

Regret is awful. And futile.

I regret the things I said to my ex-boyfriend after I broke up; I feel deep guilt about them (see my post about that here). Remembering those words I said make me question who I really am. I’ve always wanted to be known as that nice girl, the one who’s really kind and helpful and would never be mean to anyone, and now I’ve proved that I’m not the person I want to be and to some extent thought I was. I don’t know why I thought it was okay to say what I said, or what I thought it would achieve. I wish I hadn’t said it, because then I wouldn’t be constantly worried about how much he dislikes me, what he thinks of me.

But life would not be perfect even if I hadn’t had said them. We would still be broken up, and we still would need a break from each other. He may not dislike me as much as he does now, but he still wouldn’t love me or care for me in the way I wanted him to. I have apologised for what I said, but I cannot change it. I regret it, yes, but that destructive conversation was not the only thing which drove us apart.

You may think that that one thing you regret is the reason for your suffering, but the present is shaped by countless different things. Changing one single thing will not change the future.

It’s easier said than done, but whatever you did, learn from your regret, and do not repeat that mistake, but do not grieve what would most likely have not happened anyway. Do not grieve an idealised vision of reality, because reality is never ideal.

And most importantly, you are who you are. Those who can’t deal with that aren’t worth your time.