Something To Tell You

Quoting the title of HAIM’s incredible and emotional new album, the one person that I know in my personal life that I have told about this blog, I have something to tell you. I lied and I apologise. 

I know you don’t really know who HAIM are and the reference is completely lost on you, but what I have to tell you is that I lied about being okay with you hiding the flat decision from me. The flat for next semester fits five people in together and if you know four people, you can book with them. I was left out of this flat once before as everyone booked it behind my back way back in January. And when there was talk of somebody leaving the booking for next year, I expressed to you that I really wanted that space to get out of the flat I am currently in for next year.

I don’t know three of the people and the other person I do know, is an absolute nightmare to live with. I like him, we have things in common and we can have a laugh, but at social occasions, small doses. He has way too much energy and a touchy feely behaviour to live with, I cannot deal with that and remain sane and human after 8 months of that. I know you had a situation where you were going to be living with four strangers, but the flat with everyone in it including your boyfriend was literally opposite the flat door. You would have been close enough to practically live with him anyway. You had told everyone you two would wait a year before you thought about moving in together. And after how much we had talked about it, you know I would move to that flat in a heartbeat.

So when a friend in there told me someone had backed out of the booking, they invited me and so I told the university people and they said someone had already booked it a week ago. I thought that it was odd, maybe a mistake in the system or something. I asked my friend if he had any idea, he asked the other flat mates if they had any idea and they all said they didn’t know. And then at the end of the day, you came out and apologised to me and the group. Three people hurt me then.

My exact words were ‘it’s alright, it might not have worked out living with them anyway.’ I hate lying, I am honest in almost everything I say, I cannot stand lying because I know how much it hurts. And in that moment, I thought tha it would just be the best thing to do. It was the day after my birthday and I was feeling low, but I put your feelings first, said that I was alright with it and I acted like nothing had happened. You have enough to worry about and I didn’t want to add to it so that’s why I lied. That was my something to tell you and I apologise if you hate me for writing this much up, but you should have seen right through that lie, call me what you want, you are the only person that talks to me.

I thought that you would have told me, perhaps even asked me and I probably would have been alright with it if you had just considered me before doing it. But you didn’t tell me, or three of the people at the flat. I just thought that you would tell me. And your boyfriend didn’t say anything either, whether he knew or not, he was supposed to be a trusted friend but with everything going on with me, paranoia and depression, maybe I am blowing this out of proportion, maybe not. And the third person is living in that flat next year. I remember being told that a few months ago, he said behind my back that he would rather have a random person live in that space rather than me or someone he knew. He put it just like that and I lived with him for a whole semester the year previous. And then when all of this happened last week now (I know, it’s old news now and I should get over it, but I can’t), he said to you and everyone that he prefers you anyway over any random person. He was either lying or he likes to change his mind a lot.

And once again, I feel left out. I haven’t been a part of the group as long as everyone else but even then, as a group I thought I could look forward to seeing in less than 70 days time now, I am not so sure. With everything I have going on in my head, I don’t need this added drama either. I am writing this on here because no matter what happens to me after, I should have been honest from the start. I had to confess to telling a lie because it wasn’t right, even if I was trying to consider your feelings. Lies always untangle in the end and makes a mess. I am truly sorry, that’s how I really feel.

To quote HAIM again, a lyric that has stuck with me since I heard it on ‘Night So Long’, ‘in loneliness my only friend, in loneliness my only fear’. Please don’t leave me alone.

Much love from your friend,

Alex. 

What Do I Wake Up For? What Am I Putting My Energy Towards? What Have I Got To Look Forward To? Where Do I Go From Here?

I ask myself these questions every day. The familiar bleak horizon is ever approaching and despite the Summer sunshine, it has never appeared so black. Up until yesterday, I have been holding onto the hope of going back to university in September, having my own space, seeing the faces again, perhaps find someone and a sense of purpose. But now, even that hope feels lost. 

Not much has changed in my life to feel this way, but in all of my moods, I still do not feel positive even about that anymore. I think I juxtaposed university to home life a little too much; at both homes I have depression and feel anti-social to my friends that I am still struggling with keeping. It is just another place to be ignored in and treated badly like last semester. I also do not feel motivated when I am there either… I guess I should just be looking forward to escaping my parents and having some actual space to live in.

Currently, my house resembles the clutches my mother, the hoarder, has on this house. Plastic bags and boxes, ancient magazines and newspapers smother the entire house. Two bedrooms and the attic are completely full of junk and the three-seater sofa can only accommodate one person as the rest has been taken over. We cannot even get into the conservatory for the Summer or sit at the dining table as family. And my house has been this way since before I was born. I have never been able to have friends over, they see into the house from the outside and rather than inviting them in for a drink, we either sit at the front door step or in the garden. I hate it. There is a narrow path through the whole house and crossing another person coming the other way is a nightmare. As a kid, playing with Lego, building castles and cities, was supposed to be fun and a healthy way to bring up a child, rather than playing video games. However, half of the time, there was no space to play with any of my toys and so I had no choice but to watch TV or play video games. And with no friends that wanted to come in, I would only really see them at school or the odd occasion to play football (which I always sucked at).

One would imagine that you can picture the horror and the desperation to escape such a horrible place. It is a huge cause of my initial anxiety and depression before anything else and as much I want to leave, to have space to walk and sit again at university, not even that freedom feels hopeful anymore. I am dreading seeing the people again, feeling paranoid and anxiety and depression until 3am where at that point I am sat in a dark room, staring out of the window at the abyss with music in my ears to keep me company. I am guilty of having breakdowns every other day for the last three months of university and no one knows about it. Nobody actually noticed. All of the people on my social media see even now that I usually sleep at 3am, which is due to the dread of the happiness and innocence of my dreams where I forget reality and the depression. I used to sleep at 1am, much less than ideal; I would love to be able to drift away by 12pm. It sounds silly when I say that I hate happy dreams, but the wrong people are in those dreams, and I wish I could forget rather than be lied to and feel the past again with them. I just want to move on.

And so I wake up, come to consciousness and all I feel like doing is going back to sleep, just so that I can hide one hour longer and feel something good, even if it’s not real. I thought that I woke up for the hope of escaping to university but now, I don’t. I don’t wake up for anything. I don’t want to see this house around me, the lack of people paying any interest in my life and I am sick of feeling sorry for myself. But if I don’t, then who will?

My answer to the above questions is: nothing. Where am I going? Nowhere. I just feel lost in spiralling circles, constantly feeling down and out, revolving in this heavy pain without a reason to try anymore. Even if I did get better, what would I be getting better for? Who? I guess I am just hung up on questions I cannot answer again. These questions matter to me though, I used to be able to answer them and now, I cannot. Without any love, positive faces or motivation, I don’t know how I will make it to September, let alone survive the second semester, sanity and body intact. Who knows, maybe I will be able to use my invisibility to survive the year!

Much love from your friend,

Alex. 

The Many Effects Depression Has Had On Me And The Way That I Think.

For a while now I have been trying to quantify the mixed feelings that I have and make sense of them; that way, I can identify them and hopefully attempt to understand them better so that they rule over my impulses and I can take a step back, think about what I do before the dark side of me takes over. 

Jealousy, pity and no self-worth, a lack of motivation and energy, anger and frustration, paranoia, anti-social and reclusive, emotional, alone and suicidal. These are the main feelings that have encompassed my emotional state and not a single one of them is positive. This makes me even more of an outsider and an even less of a ‘fun’ person to be around. The real me is underneath this shadow but I cannot find anyone to illuminate him. I just feel trapped and lost and with this state of mind, it is debilitating to the little that I want to do with my day and my social appearance. Constantly, people tell me to ‘cheer up’ or to ‘take things less seriously’, even people with depression tell me that! I would have thought that they would understand how ignorant and insulting that feels when you are physically not capable of ‘cheering up’. I cannot unfortunately control the chemicals in my brain, nor my subconscious fixation on negativity, pain and things that my brain feels compelled to question. I have probably just painted a pretty negative and biased picture of myself but hopefully that gives you an insight into what I have been feeling for five months now. I still feel like I don’t want to be here; I still want to taste happiness again. Instead, I can only see happiness in other people.

Jealousy. This evil feeling is something I have repressed my entire life. I have never really considered myself to be jealous of anyone or anything. And yet, now I know what it truly feels like and how it influences people on a daily basis. You see what you want the most in other people and you want that for yourself. For me, everyone around me seems to be prospering, loving life and feeling loved. I don’t feel loved, I hate my life, I want what they have for myself. The sad truth is that it is not something that I can just obtain, I cannot take it for myself; love and happiness is something that happens autonomously. Some people feel it more than others, I just happen to be an ‘other’. I get told that’s okay because they still see that I can be a good person, that I want to be happy and so I just need to be patient, give it time. They are right in that it cannot be forced. However, belonging, feeling loved is a basic human need that we require to function. And without it, I feel like I am not functioning at all. I should feel happy for those successful people like I did before, but I just don’t feel that way anymore. Maybe my jealousy is due to my depression, or maybe I just grew up and see an imperfect world now.

Paranoia: I question absolutely everything; why did that person get a better grade than me? Why did they read my text and not reply? Do they even know me, why they do that to me? Why does all of this shit happen to me and everyone else is living their life?
I really wish that this was not true but I do it, to everyone and everything. Who wants to be friends with someone that questions your every move and word? I don’t but I’m stuck with him for now. He is a huge pain in the arse and yet I cannot shake this little ‘why’ monster, constantly asking questions I don’t have the answers to. I drives me insane contemplating the answers, but as there is not much in this Summer holiday to keep me busy, I have a lot of time on my hands to think. In that time, I feel trust issues and like I need to avoid people so that I don’t lose my shit with them, even when what has happened may not even be about me or intended to hurt me and that I should just give them a second chance. Presently, I am running incredibly low on second chances due to the sheer amount that I have given away in the past and then lost. I don’t even have enough friends to be paranoid about, I should take what I can get, but life is just not going my way and even my friends are not helping anymore. I feel like I am getting worse somehow, despite my best efforts to get out of this hole; my best is not good enough.

Pity & No Self-Worth: About 40% of my words are used on pitying myself, feeling sorry for myself wishing that things would just get better. I look in the mirror and I see braces, spots, bags and a lack of weight and muscle. I remember all of the abuse people give me. I am after all only human like you, I have just been treated differently, unfavourably shall we say. I feel small and so I tell myself that, that I am one in 7 billion, no need for my life to improve when someone that has less than me could have a better life instead. There is no scripture or plan in motion designed to make my life better, there is no reason for it to. As an atheist, even though I would like to believe in re-incarnation (that might explain why my life has turned out this way), there is no reason for one life to suddenly, autonomously improve. There is no reason for my luck to change. Survival of the fittest has led to my completely random, unforeseeable life and I have made it this far, but not how I would have liked to. I have put so much effort into giving second chances, forgiving, doing the right thing and making people smile, happiness is all I want for myself and other people and somehow I have ended up at the other end of the spectrum. That’s how things have turned out for me and I cannot help but dwell on it, feel like it has to be something to do with me, for everything to go wrong, I cannot blame anybody else but myself. Otherwise that would be pretty unfortunate to have only ever known the wrong people all of my life. Who’s to say the right people are around the corner? There are too many things in my life that are out of my control and it just makes me feel the lowest of the low.

Lack Of Motivation & Energy: Ever since I left university for the Summer break, I have gone back to not eating three meals a day or my 5 a day, my sleep is even worse, I am becoming further confined to my room and mind and I have no motivation to do anything. I am struggling to make time for my running program, Couch to 10k, even though I have nothing to do except work three nights a week, I procrastinate my life away to occupy my mind. I bought a guitar months ago and I still have not began to learn it. I am struggling to stay sane during my short work hours and I just don’t get excited about anything anymore. I see something I liked and then think ahead, predict a negative and then somehow, feeling like a psychic, that negative thing becomes a reality. The same does not apply to positivity however because I have tried and failed with wishful thinking. I don’t know how to feel motivated, especially in my cluttered house ruled by my evil parents, I just want to get out but I can’t until the end of September… great.

Anger & Frustration: I have become a cliché in that I feel like no one understands or appreciates me, I am not accepted for being myself and things are not going well for me. Boo hoo… I get jealous which leads to anger and frustration, I get paranoid which makes me frustrated, having no energy makes me angry and frustrated. All of these big, horrible feelings are accompanied by the side dish of you guessed it, anger and frustration. I cannot help it; once again I cannot control my mind and nothing good can come of these feelings. We have established that I am a human being, but a ‘normal’ person does not get frustrated by almost everything. In the past few years, I haven’t lost shit at anyone, screamed and kicked off. I have been pissed off of course but I have never made a huge monster deal out of anger in a long time; I have mostly kept it between myself and my Xbox. We all need an outlet and shouting at an inanimate object is probably more healthy than some other options. I guess what I am trying to say is that this frustration created by the other feelings only fuels he other feelings more and makes them worse. The paranoia kicks in, I get frustrated and want to know ‘why’ and then I get more paranoid and frustrated questioning what has happened and not having an answer. That is not healthy and it makes it extremely hard to let things go and forgive, further alienating myself from my handful of friends.

Anti-Social & Reclusive: I try my best to hide these feelings. I try not to be a constant misery machine on my friends because I know how suffocating that is and I want people to enjoy talking to me and being around me. I don’t want to be that friend with all of the drama; I want to be a best friend, known, loved and someone that you can have a laugh with. And above all, someone you don’t stab in the back. I have developed a few trust issues after my back has been left a pincushion. I need someone that is not going to add to the history and stay in my present, that I don’t have to question and worry about. That would be the dream. Unfortunately, I do not feel like I have been blessed with such people in my life. My family spread things, many friends do things behind my back that get hidden and the longer they wait, the worse things get. I am sick and tired of this cassette on loop. It is pushing me further away. I already feel invisible enough but when I am around people, I am beginning to wish that I was just invisible, hidden from everyone so that I cannot be involved in anything. I do not need the drama and I don’t want to cause any either. People don’t seem to have a great understanding on mental health and what that means. I often get overlooked because of it, even my dad ells me to ‘cheer up’. This just makes me want to get out of the conversation as fast as possible, run to the hills and scream as loud as humanly possible.
Often I find myself in the situation where I wish that I could just leave and not be judged by anyone, put some music on and hide. I have no problem making conversation, in fact I try so hard to meet new people, make friends but it seems that no one really feels the same way. This society feels very closed with hundreds of people on the streets and not a single person knows one another, says ‘hi’ to, not even acknowledge their existence. They go out, do what they do and go home to their support base and feel good about themselves. I want to get to know those people and their stories, break free of the people in my life and do something different. But if I tried talking to a stranger, I would either be ignored or shouted at. So instead I am trapped in my little life and even with the people that I know, as much as I want to express myself, I want to hide too.

Emotional, Alone & Suicidal: Ultimately, this mess of emotion leaves me ’emotional’ and swinging in and out of moods from down to depressed, making me want to be surrounded by friends to wanting to run away from them. I had my first breakdown in the early hours of 22nd February 2017 and I cried for over an hour and a half. I just couldn’t stop and I didn’t even know why I was crying. That was the first of more to come. I have mood swings where I can’t get out and I just want to vent even though it is all just the same as before and no one is there to listen. Words don’t really do the feelings justice but I have been feeling low enough for so long now that whenever I cross a road, walk past a body of water or am on my bike, I picture what it would be like to fall. I always think about what it would be like, after all I would only suffer for a little while before forgetting absolutely everything. You might think that’s so dark, how could I even think about that as an option and the truth for me is that it is an option. If I died tomorrow, I honestly with every part of me believe that I would be content in not suffering anymore. I feel like I have just had enough and I can’t deal with anymore. I haven’t seen any improvement in my situation since the beginning, only further into this abyss. I am exhausted.

Right now, a song called ‘One Out Of Two’ by Breakbot just came on shuffle and I feel envy in that it explores the feelings of someone that is living for their partner, the person that gives them a reason to live and meaning in their life. I need that person more than anything. It is an insurmountable amount of pressure to put on someone’s shoulders, but hopefully, if that one does exist, they will only feel feather as love will carry the rest. And I want to do the same for them, be an equal, do whatever it takes for them. I know 100% that having someone there for me will allow me to fix myself. My last grain of hope is invested in that belief and I guess that it is the one thing holding me back from the fall. Even with nothing left, there is a possibility of that one person existing. I hope to high heaven that they are right around the corner because I cannot feel like this any longer, the depression choking me. I guess life owes me that much.

Much love from your friend,

Alex. 

Did My 19th Birthday Suck After All? Yes. Yes It Did.

After a week spent over thinking things (like usual), I was expecting the worst birthday I have ever had and that is saying a lot considering the past few years. And after waking up with a good start to the day, things slowly went down hill and reinforced the feeling of unimportance and invisibility. 

I have not felt happiness in many months now and for some people, their own day of the year where everyone they know celebrates them can make them feel some happiness and feel important. But for me, it only confirmed my deluded feelings of invisibility and unimportance, even though some people remembered to message me ‘happy birthday’ and ‘have a great day!’ Those people don’t really know me at all; it was never going to be a good day with my mental state.

The best thing about the day was waking up to a text from my crush, saying ‘happy birthday’ and ‘have a great day!’ After not speaking to each other for the past three weeks due to distance and her having a life, I had been remembered by someone who was seemingly distant to me. I felt a fleeting warmth inside before I got out of bed to see my parents. Immediately, my soul was crushed.

Every year they put some thought into a present whether they ask me or my brothers or not, they always get us something. Five days before my birthday was my brother’s and my parents bought him a few presents… this year they handed me a little card with £50 insided and the words ‘you didn’t tell us what you wanted.’ Their thinking behind the card was that they would rather get me nothing than something I may not have liked. Well a little thought and consideration would be nice but clearly, my parents do not care about me. So, any thought and hope I had before this moment quickly vanished into a distant dream I once had. My dad then left to go to work and my mum stayed on her laptop, not even acknowledging my existence. For the rest of the entire day, I spent it putting a like on the odd Facebook post and playing Xbox with a few people I know online.

They were all great and I spoke to a friend I haven’t seen in over a year and it was nice, but I play Xbox and talk to them nearly every day. So really I wasted the entire day in my room, mostly alone with music and a headset on. I would have loved to have actually done something with my life on my day of the year, we even went out for dinner for my brother’s birthday five days ago, but for me, nothing. My brothers gave me their presents after they finished work and then did their own thing, they didn’t want to do anything with me. And so naturally, like any other teenager, I continued to sulk alone in my room.

What absolutely takes the cake though was that I didn’t even get a proper cake! I had to cook my own dinner, eat it by myself at the table and then hours later, my brother materializes in my doorway with a slice of cake in his hand and hands it to me. So no candles, no wishes, nothing. I get handed a slice and then he just walks off. Even with my paranoia and over-active imagination I never could have dreamt such an unimportant birthday. Literally, none of my friends made plans to see me, my family didn’t bother with me and I did not even get my own cake to wish for the obvious, I was trapped in my own room to slowly accept how small and unloved I really am.

I was talking to a friend online that lives about a forty minute walk away and told him what an ‘amazing’ and ‘joyous’ day I had and he says, ‘oh! Give me fifteen minutes and come outside.’ I did exactly that and at 11pm, two of my friends were outside in a car and we went to McDonald’s, the only place we ever see each other. No one else could be bothered to come out to see me so the three of us talked and ate for about two hours. My best mate, he was the one that was driving and he paid for my £5 meal, more generous than all of my other friends have ever been in my life. We had some light conversation and then the inevitable deep conversation about depression and it just so happens that his sister is a trained counsellor, starting up her business and that she would see me for free. Even though I took up the offer and I am currently arranging an appointment, counselling advice on my birthday was not exactly what I had in mind.

When I got home, feeling like if I went to sleep right now I wish I would never wake up, there was only one way to end the day, watch my favourite film of all time at 2am: The Breakfast Club. Thank you John Hughes for creating such a masterpiece as the classic 80s music and references, deep conversations and sexuality are all expressed in this coming of age movie exploring five stereotypes of the modern day. It is still relevant as it ever was and demonstrates the effects parenting has on children, that no one is perfect, virginity is something to be happy and comfortable with, loneliness alienates people to create a mask for everyone to see so that people can hide their pain and reality and that everyone is going through something deeply disturbing whether that’s an unsatisfying home life and being ignored, being pressured by your parents to succeed and having no freedom of choice in your life, feeling suicidal, a crisis in what people think of you and sexuality and abusive parents / carers, everybody is going through something and we need consider people’s feelings now and then, see the individual through the mask and stereotype. I want someone to see me through my mask and consider my feelings, we all do. Unfortunately, not even on my day of the year someone could see through my mask and consider my feelings.

Left alone to waste away in my room, palmed of with a card and £50, not even deserving of a cake or a meaningful conversation, not worth taking time for, left to fade away into the background, I feel more unimportant than I ever have in my life. Two friends made the last-minute effort to see me and we went to he place we always go to; if anything, this was the least special day of the year. I had to rely on a DVD to make me feel something. Yes a few people remembered to drop a message, but no one wanted a conversation. No one wants to hear what I have to say apart from the odd person that will read this tragic blog and make it this far.

I guess the lessons you can learn from this are what not to do on someone’s birthday. Talk to them, make plans to take time out of your life to see or speak to them, even if it’s through Skype. Actually let the person see their own cake and make a wish, treat them the same as you do their other siblings, put some consideration into that person, their feelings and needs. I need some love… even if that is in the form of sponge, cream and icing; it’s better than nothing.

Much love from your friend,

Alex. 

I Guess Life Just Keeps On Finding New Lows For Me, Especially Now With My 19th Birthday Around The Corner…

Hey guys, it has been a while and I guess I just couldn’t think of anything positive to discuss for a week. I’ve found some more music to broaden my taste, but other than that, things just seem to be getting worse and it’s an unfortunate, grim reality that I live in now. I feel invisible, forgotten and not worth knowing. 

Yesterday, my depression lead me to search ‘I feel invisible’ into Google and I found a plethora of like-minded people, each trying to make sense of their own lives and minds just like me. The resounding response I seem to be seeing is that it comes down to your childhood, the people around you, mental strength and very little about depression being linked to your genes; so if the nurture, sociological perspective is anything to go by, it might explain part of my depression. You can find the main article here that I found a good read in the early hours of last night.

After experiencing this person’s thoughts in their beautiful articulation, I can unfortunately relate. And it made me look back at my childhood through new eyes, taking off the rose-tinted glasses and seeing how my childhood was too less than exemplary and ideal. I see how I have always been negatively reinforced to be quiet, to go to my room, to tidy up and when I am out of sight and no heard, I am allowed to do whatever as long as I am away from my parents. I still spend the majority of my free time in my bedroom, doing whatever to procrastinate and waste the time by myself. My dad just literally asked me from outside my room, didn’t even come to the doorway and asked me whether I was doing anything important. To this I can say anything I like to avoid further conversation because no matter what he won’t care so I said ‘no’. Predictably, he said, ‘oh like usual’ and walked off. Thank you for the boundless love and support you give me dad, just walk away. Never in a million years could I share anything on this blog with him, he probably wouldn’t even care that much, not visibly anyway; he keeps himself to himself too.

And in spite of always being reinforced to be quiet, I have become conscious to how quiet I am socially and the juxtaposition to how loud I am by myself, listening to music and singing and being active myself. It has led to me leading a life that no one can see and people only assume about me, the generalisation that I am ‘anti-social’ and ‘depressed’, labelled boldly on my forehead.

I am actually a human being that depends upon social interaction and without it, I die a little on the inside every day. The sheer lack of people I see keeps me reclusive, judgemental, jealous and self-conscious. I try so hard to break from this solitary confinement and yet, my brain tells me that I am cursed to be alone for my entire life. Whenever I meet new people, everything goes sour in time; I manage to fuck everything up or I get told ‘it wasn’t meant to be’ or that I spend my time around ‘the wrong people’. If that is true, then where the hell are all of the right people? I don’t want people’s pity and aimless belief in positivity when positivity is what got me into this mess in the first place. I had blind positivity in love before, blind positivity in friends and family and 99% of everything in my life I feel like I have lost, am paranoid about, unhappy with and ultimately, distant from.

I will turn 19 tomorrow and somehow, it manages to top my last two soul crushing birthdays. My seventeenth birthday, I had tried to help my mother tidy up the house and I didn’t throw anything in the bin, I just put everything in bags for her to sort out and for once in our suffocating house, we had a little space. This was over a month before my birthday and still she didn’t speak to me even after my birthday. She bought me three shirts, one that didn’t fit and a pair of trousers. I realise I might sound spoilt saying that but it’s the principle that every year she had asked me and my brothers what we wanted, talked to us about it even if she grew less interested every year, she had still asked. But she has become such a twisted individual that she spitefully chose to get me back on my birthday and it was written all over her face and body language. My brothers were asked and they were both happy and now, frightfully familiar, I got left out.

On the day before my eighteenth birthday, my Nan, the one person that stuck by me no matter what and that I saw every Sunday for my whole life, passed away at 94. For the second time my birthday had been forgotten and none of us, including me wanted to celebrate it. It was awful and I knew that every time I would ever think of my birthday, I would remember my nan in pain now.

And now after this year, with my Nan passing away, my parents becoming more twisted, my illness in the Autumn, loneliness and depression, my nineteenth birthday is going to crush me. Five days before my birthday on my eldest brother’s birthday, I finally got asked by my dad what I wanted and after being remembered in the after-thought of a conversation, I didn’t have a response. The first time in my life I didn’t want anything material. I couldn’t care less about anything material anymore, money or gadgets. What I have is suffice and living in excess only makes an individual less human. I already do not feel human so no thanks, I would prefer to be forgotten. My brothers remembered my birthday and I made their lives easy by just asking for something arbitrary of little importance to me. I am just glad they remembered. All I care about these days is company and someone to share a connection with and obviously, money cannot buy that. It would seem that I cannot find that connection either, with or without money, with or without friends and with or without a future. Nobody wants to know me.

Have you ever said something in a conversation nobody heard, no one even showed any sign of acknowledging your existence? Or if people do hear what you say, they just ignore you or speak over you? Well I get all of those every day. The people in my life do not acknowledge me, not as a human with feelings and I miss feeling valued and loved. No matter what mood I am in, every minute of every day I would not care if I died. If I did, life would just carry on. I am invisible to the world and I could just equally fade away. My friends would carry on growing, have each other and live their own lives without me. My brothers already have their own lives without me. When I lived at uni, one member of my family probably contacted me once every two weeks and I knew that home life carried on without me. I get spoken about behind my back here and I am not valued; to hear the people who are supposed to love you complain and break you down when they think you can’t hear them, is what I have had all of my life at home. If I did die and disappear, they wouldn’t be busy complaining about me anymore, they would be living their own lives. I am just another white male and the world does not need another one of those.

I am not loved, no one depends on me, no one has fought to keep me in their life and I just exist, much to the disappointment of my family. After previously exploring how I have felt and still feel suicidal, to feel that way on my birthday will just make everything worse. I have no hope to feel happy, especially when I am at an all time low mentally and considering the handful of ‘friends’ I see now and then, no one will be celebrating me because no one that I know knows me. I will just have to wear an all too familiar mask and pretend to be happy that I am happy to have reached nineteen years of age on this big blue marble.

There is nothing planned for my birthday, no one has asked to meet up with me, barely anyone has even acknowledged it. I have to remind everyone because nobody feels the importance of my existence.

I wish that I could just be happy for once, actually feel like I have something to live for and get back the feeling of wanting to live. I currently have nothing to celebrate and be thankful for other than being so lucky to be born into a life with enough food and shelter to fulfill basic human needs… all basic human needs except love. The one thing that I am holding out for is the hope that this one girl from uni remembers her promise she made to me, that she would remember my birthday and talk to me on the day and that I would do the same for her, after all it has been three weeks since we last spoke and my hope is already dead and buried.

Until the day that I feel a sense of happiness again, I will continue to pity myself along with everybody else that looks past me; I will just fade into the background again and become another thing everyone takes for granted. And if that girl keeps her promise, maybe then I will see the day where I have something to live for, maybe.

Much love from your friend,

Alex.

Nan, I will always be thinking of you. 

The Story Of The Fallen Angel That Broke Me And Left My Life In A Million Pieces

Surrounded by warm, new faces, breaking up with my ex was behind me in a matter of days and with these people, I did not feel alone. We got together now and then, we had a group chat on social media called ‘Family’ and I felt like I belonged; I was no longer an outsider. And among these young faces, one glowed the brightest. In her eyes, the fallen angel that would come to break me gave me a glimmer of hope. In her, I thought that I had found my salvation and then time revealed, she was to be my damnation. 

The night I had received the letter, the group all got together and supported me. We sat around at a karaoke night. I did not feel like talking, let alone standing up in front of an audience. However, this girl sat next to me and spoke to me the whole night. This hope she had given breathed fresh air into my lungs and with her by my side, we went up and sang ‘Fancy’ by Iggy Azalea. I took over the rap part and then we sang the chorus together. I had met her a few times before that night but it felt so natural to be around her, like I had known her for years. We even got praised for singing the song and she had made me feel so warm inside. The next day, she was there when I set fire to the letter and since then we started to text each other now and then. For the first week we would just hang out. We watched movies, ate out in town and played video-games together. Some nights she would go out drinking and I let her do her own thing, hang out with her own friends and I got some quality time to myself. She did not have a boyfriend so that was already a plus and she could make me smile all day long.

One night in the week, there was a ‘Take Me Out’ night in which girls would stand on stage and men would come up one by one to impress them and the girls had to eliminate themselves, leaving the guy either with or without a date. The prize was a free meal to Nando’s with the date and she had joked to me, that despite being dared to do it, she was only doing it for the free Nando’s. I could see in her eyes that she was about to have a breakdown before it started and I spoke to her for 15 minutes before it started, gave her a hug and the strength to prove to herself that she could survive the night. And with her ex coming out as a contestant, he pulled off his shirt, did parkour around the place over tables and in the audience and told the whole audience with the microphone that they had sex a few months ago, she got through the night in one piece. We joked about it, called the skinny guy a chicken nugget with his shirt off and she lived to fight another day… and I was there for her.

A little while over a week later, she said that I was special and proposed to take things slow. Feeling the same way, I could not have been happier. We promised to never stop talking to each other and never leave each other alone. We would always be there for each other and never hurt each other after everything the both of us had been through. After all, I called her my princess that I was going to rescue and she had come a long way to feel the courage to open up to someone new, she found that courage in me. With the medication, the cigarettes, the junk food and the nights spent drinking, it pained me to see her that way and I had to try my best to help this girl realise that she was beautiful and worth love again. Under the dark depression, she cast a shadow over herself and tried to hide who she was behind a smile but with me, she could be herself and tht is what I loved her for. She could be herself around me and I made her happy, all that I wanted in life was to make people happy.

We confided in one another and revealed are darkest secrets, things that we could not emotionally get over and even though we knew we never would get over them, that was alright because had each other to pick ourselves up again and get back to normal. We spent a week together and then a week apart. She worried about feeling the pressure of long distance for a week, but every step of the way we made it together. And we saw each other again at the end of the weekend, took it to another level and we kissed. And again, it just felt natural. Some nights I slept at her place and the other nights, I made sure that the last thing I saw was a picture of her before I closed my eyes. I truly loved her.

I had known about her past and the many troubles that she had in her mind; sleep and depression combined could often get the best of her and she had a nightmare when she was sleeping next to me. She described it to me and in it she saw that I left her, her best friend stabbed her in the back and other things from her past too. Her best friend and I were there for her the whole day. Like normal, we got her sorted out, we spent time with her and then the three of us carried on with our days. And then a few hours later, when the sun was fading, I got a message saying simply that she was ‘sorry’.

My heart raced at the speed of light and then a message from her friend popped up on my phone. Her friend wanted me to heck up on her as she feared the worst. I was confused and I asked her, is everything okay and if she needed me there? And all she said was to leave her alone, give her some space. However, her friend persisted and arranged a flat mate of the girl to let me into the block of flats that she lived in. I started to get some messages that didn’t make any sense and in he rain, I ran across the campus for her. I got into the block, found her door and banged on it, screaming her name. I feared the worst.

In the past, she had attempted to take her life a few times before and I thought that I could make a difference in her life, give her some self-worth and allow her to see that she has a family and loved ones to live for. But on the other side of that locked door was silence. I collapsed on the steps next to her door and I was crying, I couldn’t control it. I thought that I was too late to save her. Her social media was not active and her room was silent, I felt powerless. And then I heard a scramble at the lock of the door, I looked up and the door opened.

I rushed in and she was stood at the door, paralysed in fear and depression. I just wrapped my arms around her without thinking and we cried into each other’s shoulders. I told her that I was there for her now and that I always would be. She didn’t have to worry anymore, I wouldn’t let anything ever happen to her. And all she could whisper was that she loved me too and I’ll never forget what she said, ‘if you didn’t knock on my door, I never would have stopped.’ I didn’t realise that she was holding a knife and I saw in her bathroom, she had all of her pills out. Her finger and leg was bleeding and I stayed the night at hers. She patched herself up, I held her in my arms and I felt love like I will probably never feel again.

That night she had another nightmare and when I left her flat, she reassured me that she would be alright and I went to my lectures. I barely received a message from her but we went to karaoke again, we took things easy and we had each other. She said to me that day that she was going to try to stop drinking as she had no money in her bank account and she believed she could live without it. Of course I supported her, I wanted this as much as she did and then that night, she bought shots and went back to her flat and held a party and got completely wasted. I didn’t go to he party because I still not recovered from the last night and I didn’t want to see her drink her feelings away. I was feeling stable enough to have my phone nearby and just listen to music and play video-games whilst she was at her party. And the that was when the texts came out that she felt insulted that I didn’t want to spend time at her party and said a few other things.

I had made it clear to her many times in the past that I had a fear of alcohol. I had never been drunk before and people have always tried to hurt me when they drink so not knowing if I could trust what people were going to say at this party, I left her to it and with her friends, I thought she would have a good time anyway. But these texts got to me. I couldn’t tell if she meant any of what she was saying and that night, at 2am, I had a breakdown. I cried for an hour straight alone in my room with the lights out. I threw my phone away and I just cried. I had never in my life felt so much despair and pain in my life. After everything I went through the night before with her, the emotions from that came back and were ten times worse than anything I had felt in my life. I told her I was having a breakdown and all she said was that I was guilt tripping her and tat it was not that bad, just go to sleep.

For the rest of the week, we spoke less but we still saw each other, kissed, slept over. Things weren’t too bad. I had to visit the bench by the river a few times but I loved her and I had something worth fighting for, so all I did at that river was sit and think about her, I didn’t feel like death was an option this time. This love was different, stronger and I had made a promise to her, I could not let that go. We were getting through things one day at a time. She blew off a load of opportunities to see me but as I loved her and I understood the pain she was in and her medication had been increased, I let her rest. And then on the Sunday night, she broke me.

The group was going to gather for the quiz we attended every week and when I got there, she told me she wasn’t going to speak to me and she purposely sat somewhere with no space for me. For the next two hours of my life, I retreated into my mind and I feared the worst. This promise and the love I felt, I knew she was going to break me. I had no idea why she was doing this to me after I had saved her life and we admitted that we loved each other. I did not say a word for those two hours. My chest and stomach felt like it was imploding, tightening into an insignificant, invisible atom and ever since that moment, my heart has never opened up since.

This princess that I had come to live for, that had promised me a fairytale ending, refused to even acknowledge my existence. I left early and sulked in my room, self-pitying myself again in a long line of desperate moments. I had another breakdown and I sat in my dark room. Feeling like an age had passed, in the early hours of the night, she messaged me and asked to see me. I had to see her one last time and so I ran over to her flat. And we spoke for an hour. No raised voices. We kissed when she let me in and that was to be our last kiss. She told me things that scarred me, she broke me down inch by inch and her poison infected my brain. She said that my depression was not serious, that it was not on the same level as hers and yet she had no idea. I gathered that she said all of these things to push me away for good because she was so far under shadow that she believed that she could not be loved. She told me so herself. And despite everything she had said, she wanted me to stay the night and hold her. If someone had said what she said that nigh to you, all you could bring yourself to do was leave. Shut off your phone and walk away. Let her push you away because after that, things could never have been fixed. I believed that I was destined to be alone and that she was the best thing that had ever happened to me and I had to walk away, even after saving her life.

Ever since, I have contemplated the what-ifs… what if we had stayed just friends? What if I had stayed the night? What if all she wanted was someone to hold, whether it was me or not? What if I was never there to save her life? All of that regret has festered inside of me ever since. And with that regret, I cried myself to sleep. The next day, I waited for a message from her. I became that pale reflection of myself and it was evident, my fellow outsider that I sat next to every lecture told me I was different. At 1am that same day, just under 24 hours after she pushed me away, she sent a message asking for me back. For the next three days we messaged again. I remained crushed and not hopeful of this relationship anymore, although I still tried and cared for her. And then two nights after she said she needed me back, she went home from a club with her ex. Whether I believe her or not that they didn’t do anything but sleep when they got back didn’t matter. She had blown off our plans that night see each other to go out and drink. And she spent the night with someone else. When she told me, I threw my phone across my room and left it. I broke down and just listened to it vibrate on the floor.

When I returned to my phone over an hour later, all I could say was that I felt sick and why? I just wanted soe answers. She sent me a whole paragraph telling me that this person she despised so much was someone that she had a complicated situation with and only the two of them understood it. She said our relationship was doomed from the start, was poisonous and that she didn’t want to see me suffer anymore. She said that she was going to cut herself out of my life for good and those were the last words we ever had. I have never said anything to her since. I saw her around a few times but that was it. Whatever she had seen in me before had died in her eyes and I could see it, the shadow of her own self-destruction took over once again and pushed me away for good this time. She had someone else to hold her, to stop her from herself and for another time in my life, I had been replaced.

I haven’t seen the same glow in another person’s eyes since her and no one has paid any genuine attention to me. I miss her cold lips, the smell of cigarettes, her laugh and her smile; everything about her. I have to try and live a life now accepting that I cannot be happy. Everyone sees the depressed label written all over my face and they don’t want to bother. No one looks deeper than surface into what I think about and what I feel. That group of friends was never the same again and I couldn’t face them for a long time until after she left. She had tried to turn some of them against me and they went along with what she said to them just so that she didn’t give them any drama and that is not true friendship. She had planned to quit the year early and start her course again next year. I thought that would be good for her and give her a fresh and fair start. But a few weeks later, she broke most of her friendships with the people at the university and she would never return again.

Despite how she had hurt me, I wanted to keep her in my life, talk to her and keep that promise. But as I have been reminded, I cannot fix people, especially when I am myself troubled. My hope to fix her made no change to her and I believe I made things worse for her. The one person I could not bring myself to hurt and she gave me up. I have had vivid happy dreams of her since where we are together and then I wake up and I am alone again. I have kept those pictures I used to close my eyes to every night and our conversations, I can’t let them go. I can’t let that love for her go, it is a scar deep in my subconscious. I know that if someone did ever love me again, then with the energy and the time I spend trying to make them happy, breaking my neck to be there for them, I will forget my past. But the resounding reality for me is that I am alone. I have no one to love, no one to make an effort for. I lost that. I have never felt so alone, so self-centred and pitiful, I feel hate for myself and my life. I feel jealousy of others. I feel no hope, no motivation and nothing to wake up for. I do not believe in the career path that I have chosen and I feel lost. I feel like I’m on a road with rocks in my pockets that slowly falls into the ocean and I feel like all that is left of me is my head, just above the water, almost submerged and forgotten in the vast, open nothingness.

I act upon day-to-day, hiding this blog from the people I know, show up for work, put a face on. And my mind is pulling all of the strings to keep this puppet entertaining the masses that always go home at the end of the performance and never stay to grace the composer. I am not the guy that I was. Often I retreat into my head, lost in music or deafening silence where my brain is banging against my skull to escape me. I have sat by the river so many times now that I cannot count them anymore. The open water feels welcoming and with no one to love, no one to fight for and to tell my story, I will be forgotten along with all of the pain I inflicted and all of the suffering that people feel knowing that this who I have become. They miss the old me and they want him back. It’s obvious. And I cannot help but disappoint. I am lost. I need a hand to guide me out of the darkness and something to live for. I am living for the dream of a fairytale ending.

Much love from your friend,

Alex. 

The Second Love That Was Never Meant To Be, A Sordid Dream That I Was Too Blind To Wake Up From

After the traumatic loss of the first girl I had ever loved two years previous to starting university, I was hoping to reinvent myself, start a fresh life and change everything for good. And that optimism and hope blindly lead me into the worst year of my life. 

Considering myself single without feelings for anyone for two years had made me a lonely yet hopeful guy when I came to university. I could break the mould of being classed as a boring, strange, lanky, invisible loner with a handful of friends that make me look even more of an outsider. I could find my own friends, be my own guy in an adult world and find a girl to love and be loved by; find happiness and everything I had never had before. I was too naive to see the reality of what life had waiting around the corner for me.

Two weeks before I left to live in the halls of residence on campus, away from home, I fell ill; leaving me with no energy, no appetite and a need for a bed and a bowl. The illness I had lasted all the way up to the first four weeks of university. I missed the first day of introductory lectures and team building exercises with the new people I was going to spend the next three years with. I spent the entirety of Fresher’s in my bed watching TV because I could not eat or drink or go out and so once again, fate dealt me a cruel hand. I was back in my old role, type-cast as the boring, strange, lanky, invisible, lonely outsider… great.

On the second day of introductory lectures I managed to muster up enough strength to go out into this wide new world and since then, despite my illness, I attended every lecture and seminar, listening and taking notes as best I could. As I had missed the first day though, most people had already established their friendship groups and I was left with this other guy that felt a bit like an outsider too. For the entire year we sat together, either on our own row in lectures or on our own table in seminars because everyone else sat together. Everyone liked each other, I liked my class but we were outsiders. He commuted to the campus so he had his own life back home and I just had no life so everyone socialized through alcohol and the illness I had, plus the braces I had too prevented me from drinking. I was really achieving my naive little dream here…

I can honestly say that the only good thing that I can remember when I look back was a conversation that I had with this girl that was a friend of my flat mate and on my course too. The conversation came naturally, though we were both nervous, and I distinctly remember a joke we shared about stalking people on social media; she said everyone does it and I laughed and said not me, I honestly don’t do that, I prefer people to tell me about themselves rather than get to know one side of them where everything looks happy through the camera lens. I said to her that later she could stalk mine if she wanted to and then we sat together in the lecture for an hour and shared a few more jokes. For the next two months I saw her here and there, catching the bus, in lectures or across the halls of residence. Neither of us really said much to each other but for some reason my mind kept going back to her. At the end of that second month, we had our work placement where we were to just observe for a week and get a feel for the job. On the second day, the 22nd of November, I realised that we had eachother on social media and so I made the first move; I just started a general conversation into how the past two days had gone.

For the rest of that week, we began to message each other more and more until the Sunday night at the end of that week We both caught the same flu that had been going around and neither of us could sleep and so we talked until 5am, only four hours before we were due for a 9am start the following day. She confessed to me that 5am was the latest she had ever stayed up and that she was scared, but I made everything better staying up for her. Within the next two weeks, I had never been so attached to my phone before in my life, messaging up to 14 hours most days. We must have lived about 300 metres from eachother and yet I only saw her in lectures. Messaging eachother got intense pretty quickly and with this new life, I had feelings I had wished for my whole life, I could say out loud that I was in love! Only two weeks and I felt that way already? I was incredibly naive!

Especially when after everything she had said to me about feelings and wanting to take things further, she once again confessed to me although this time it was serious, she had a boyfriend back home!!! She broke he news to me whilst I was in a Mathematics seminar and while I was struggling to pay attention in the first place, this gave me all the more reason to disengage with life in front of me and fire back on my phone, asking to meet her in the library later on that day. I massively regret not walking away there and then, that girl came to play me on for another two months and yet I listened to her and I went with my heart. I can remember the amount of consideration it took for me to think of something positive to say and feel for her that night in the library when inside I was erupting with the fear of losing her, the anger that she had led me on to think that she was single and the blind love telling me to find a way to make it work. And that night she told me that she wanted to carry on getting to know me, give us time and that she did not want a relationship with her boyfriend any longer after two ears of being together to support each other through mutual hard times. She asked for me to hold on and keep talking to her until January when she would make her decision. I look back now, six months physically older and probably mentally six years older and I cannot believe I agreed to this with her. She had a boyfriend of two years and she did not mention him once to me, that is pure dishonesty right here and yet I gave her a second chance. I should have seen that her dishonesty and lust would foreshadow much more pain to come. And still for the next month, we talked for 14 hours a day, spoke much more intimately and ultimately got to know quite a lot about eachother.

January, the month I had been waiting so patiently for had finally come. On New Year’s eve, I came back to university after spending Christmas at home to see her and unfortunately we were not alone; my bumbling numpty for a flat mate was their and her incredibly intimidating, northern, twenty year old best friend and also flat mate was there too, talking at the speed of light and we just sat there and talked for about four hours, making eye contact and texting each other when the other two took over the conversation. This girl was the worst stress head I had ever met in my life, it got the point that a week later in our relationship she developed a rash over her whole body due to stress, and that night, she was stressing out so much and did not read a message I sent her properly and sent some very mixed messages for the final hour before the new year began. She stopped replying to my messages and gave me the cold shoulder in conversation. I had known her to often skim read a text and get the complete wrong idea I thought unfathomable to see from what I had written and every time, with the withdrawal of contact from her, I would spiral too. Combined with the starchy takeaway pizza, the effects the illness months ago made on me and my anxiety running rife among the thoughts and emotions inside of me, I literally got up off of the couch in her kitchen, stumbled to the door and walked back to my flat.

Once again, anxiety was twisting my stomach and this time had forced me to make a public exit. Naturally, when I reached my flat she finally sent me a message, apologising for not reading the message properly and offering to come and help me with this panic attack I was having. That night made me realise that I needed her in my life, someone to care for me as that night I felt like I was going to be sick and for a girl that had a phobia of sick, she was willing to face that fear to be there for me. I realised that I was no longer alone and that I needed to fight to keep her in my life so that I was not alone anymore.

The next week, we hung out and watched movies together with my flat mates and we would always sit next to each other on the couch, with a cover over us and hold hands. For many people, holding hands may seem laughable but to me it meant everything. It meant that she could not help herself but feel passion for me, she even told me so herself. That week was on track to being the best week of my life until on the Friday, she told me her boyfriend was coming up to see her. This was no longer the best week of my life.

The next day, I was compelled to have to be the one to comfort her whilst she walks into town to meet up with her boyfriend because he was incapable of walking down a straight road to the university, a road he had walked down before with her and he could have just used Google Maps. But this was only one example to the many, many reasons I hated this guy. For starters, he was rich, he was re-sitting the year because he did not get the grades to get into the top two universities on the country, he had insulted his girlfriend many times about her choice in university, made her feel like shit, he had no social skills whatsoever and when we were all together in the common room that night, he was talking to himself whilst playing pool with us. Who the hell talks to themselves to encourage themselves to win in a casual game in a public place?! I think I might be a little side tracked but yeah, the guy was a tool.

All night she kept making eye contact with me again, she flirted with me and she was texting me too, all with her boyfriend sitting next to her. Once again, huge signs right there and then that I should have run in the other direction but as a love-struck, naive little puppet, she was telling me that she had decided that night on me.

Which brings me to one of the most confusing, fucked up and totally demented things that I had ever heard of in my life. She once again confessed to me the morning after we were all together that half an hour after leaving the common room and I said goodbye to her, she had sex with this guy that she had been ignoring all night, talking about behind his back and flirting with me! And you might think well, that’s not too bad, he is her boyfriend after all, well it gets a million times worse… her justification for having sex with him was that she was thinking of me when she was fucking him?!?!

So upon that rude awakening, that day I came so close to breaking up with her and I should have but with this love that I had and with someone to listen, instead of being alone again I told her to put the relationship on hold until I could think clearly again. And she managed to get inside my head and convince me to listen to her apology and she said that she was going to end things with him by the end of January. An absolute mess for the next 48 hours, blasting Royal Blood at full volume and shooting Nazis on my Xbox, for the first time in my life I contemplated suicide as a possibility rather than something that no matter how bad things got, I could never even consider it. Three months ago that was what I would have said but after walking to the river, watching everyone walk past me, completely invisible to the world, I sat down on a bench and gazed into the water. Knowing that I could not swim, there was no way that I could survive that death and as an atheist, I still believe that would most likely be the end for me. I would like to believe in reincarnation but with no real, heartfelt belief in what is beyond, I was happy with death. Death meant that I did not have to live my life as an outsider any more, I would never have to be hurt by someone I love again and I would not have any regrets because I would be dead.

For me, life appears to only have one purpose and that is to fight for what you love and believe in, above all else. And today as I write this, if I were to die in the next 24 hours, then that would be okay with me. I have lost the hope that I used to hold on to and believe and I have alienated everyone I know and I am bound to a lonely life as an outsider. And that day was the first of many visits to the bench by the river. I still felt in my heart that I could not let this love go and rather than dwell on the river’s cold embrace, I decided to fight for that love still after everything and I went to see my first ever counsellor. I just walked in, soaked from the pouring rain and I poured my heart out to this guy, also misunderstood, a hopeless romantic and he was only a few years older than me. I spoke to him for about three hours, telling him everything about this relationship and listening to everything that he said too and it felt good to finally get all of this feeling off of my chest, this counselling had worked and I went back to this girl with a clear head and we went back to normal, talking for 14 hours a day. And now, she had arranged a day where she would go back home, see her boyfriend and end things with him. This was the weekend before our second work placement week and with us both stressed about that, we had to get some closure before it started so we could think about us and be there for each other from then on out. And yep, that’s right, you guessed it, once again she confessed to me that when she saw him, they spoke, went to the cinema and then spoke some more and decided that she would give herself a week to think about their relationship as she told him that she was falling out of love for him and he was nothing like he used to be. Naturally, I had another panic attack when she told me she had failed again to end things with someone she had so easily slagged off and complained about to me.  It made absolutely no sense why she would torture herself like this, break her promise to me and string along her boyfriend that was utterly clueless.

So the following day, after the work placement in which I had managed to bottle up my feelings and survive, I went back to the very same counsellor and opened up that bottle. After a few hours talking, I decided that I would give myself the week to think, decide whether she was worth all of these second chances I was giving her and whether she be the one I could spend the rest of my life with. That week, we saw each other every night but one and it was just the two of us this time, no flat mates or any other distractions. The lust between us reached new heights of intimacy early on in the week with supporting eachother through and after work and when we were face to face, we did more than hold hands. You can probably tell I am still a virgin by how I worded that and thankfully, I still am. I like to think that as someone at the lowest point in their life, they still have standards.

However, towards the end of the week, after everything we had said to each other and the love that we had shared over three months, she still could not bring herself to tell me she loved me when I said it to her, even when she had whispered it to me once before. This lead to a night where after all of this, she didn’t say a word to me for the last fifteen minutes that I was at her place and then when I left, she just closed the door. After thinking about it all day the next day, I chose to forget it and she came to mine and we shared our first kiss. And do you know what she said? Somewhere in her heart she managed to reach a new low as after we looked into each other’s eyes and then kissed in the heat of the moment, she said, why do all boys kiss like that? As you can imagine many thoughts popped into my head that night, such as how many boys have you kissed? Why are you comparing me to your exes? And… you cold, heartless bitch.

That really got to me, so much so that I brought up the night previous and other things and for a girl that constantly told me that she wasn’t a slut, suddenly seemed to epitomise to that which she had been trying so hard to avoid, especially now with two boyfriends. I didn’t see her after the final day of placement. And the next day, she told me she had seen her boyfriend again. In a whirlwind of luck, I happened to fall ill with another flu that weekend and with everything in my head from the past week, that night she came to tuck me into my bed and she acted just like my dad. And at that moment in time, I knew that as soon as I have the strength to get out of bed, I will end things with her.

The next day, I told her we needed to talk and she had pretty much already feared the worst. She came to my room, she was angry and was in tears, and after half an hour, she left. I told her she could have as much time to sort her life out as she needs, do whatever the hell she wants with her boyfriend and to not contact me at least for the next two months. The following morning was the beginning of the next week, 9am lecture and like usual, she was early and I was late and I had to walk past her. She always sat right at the front and I always sat at the back with my trusted outsider. And her face was haunting. She was all red, tears running down her face and makeup all smudged. She could not stop messaging me and I was trying to be friend and let her down easy, say we could talk in person when other people are around but nothing else, keep it civil. And she did not listen. I had to block her on social media and tell my flat mate to stop bringing her anywhere near me when she knows I’ll be around and what happens? This girl knocked on my door and hid in my flat mate’s room because she couldn’t face me. I will never forget when my flat mate emerged and asked me if I knew who knocked. I said yes and then she asked me if I wanted to talk to this girl and I said no, I have made it pretty clear and as I turned and locked my door, I heard her try to come out into the corridor but I distinctly told her time and again, I will no talk to you until we give it time, we need months apart. And the truth was that I had never been so happy about being single ever in my life! I had those 14 hours back to myself and I did not have to craft every message in fear that she might read it wrong and worry about what she was going to tell e next about her boyfriend; I felt free. I made some new friends straight after too through my bumbling flat mate next door. And despite having to see this girl every lecture, I was free of her. No more drama, no more betrayal and lies, I could live my own life again.

And then a week later, I came home to an A4 sized envelope under my door with y name on it. I opened it up and four sides of hand-written, A4 sheets of paper declared her love and feelings for me. We had been apart for two weeks and disrespected our agreement and then she puts that under my door? I felt enraged and after sleeping on it, the next day I showed my new-found friends the letter. It had a numbered list counting the main reasons why she loved me, there were apologies in there and towards the end, there was a whole paragraph telling me what I had done to her. Apparently she had heard through someone (the idiot next door that fancied her flat mate) that I had complained about talking to her so often amongst other things and that was not what I said at all. I was willing to talk to her so much because I loved her! What I had said afterwards was that it was nice to have that time back, not once did I insult her or say anything negative about her. But this cruel letter changed everything. After I showed my friends it, they helped me get over it. And after thinking of what to do with the letter, rather than keep it, I borrowed my friend’s lighter and I set fire to it. We watched it burn and with that, she was gone from my life. I highly recommend burning things after a breakup, it is incredibly therapeutic!

Within the hour, the idiot next door had told her I had set fire to the letter and the girl emerged from the flat down the corridor once again. I did not even give her a reason. To be honest I think it was pretty clear why I set fire to it. She had lied to me since the beginning and after everything she had done, that letter was the final nail in the coffin. I said nothing to her and I locked my door and turned Royal Blood up to full volume. Since then, I saw her around the campus almost every other day. She all of a sudden came to every gathering in my flat and the common room and I just ignored her. Lately, since the diagnosis of my depression after my third and final ex, loneliness has consumed me. I have felt tempted so many times to message her out of the blue after I unblocked her a month after she stopped messaging me. I have wanted to feel some love again, just feel capable of being loved and I feel like I could have that feeling if I spoke to her one last time. I wrote a post last night about looking at old messages from her and my other ex and as much as I have enough self-dignity never to say anything to her, my heart is crying out to say something and I cannot shake that feeling.

Writing over 4,000 words about her has helped me to remember why I should never speak to her again. I cannot get over any of past alone and I did not expect this to help me get over it, however, this has given me a reason to keep my temptation at bay. I have all of the answers I need, all I need is the happiness now. All I want is some happiness again.

And now it is time for me to say much love from your friend and to get some sleep now it is 4.23am.

Alex.