Monday, 30 September 2013


Usually when I post like this, it's off the back of some sort of argument. This time, though, it's been brewing for a while.

I've been feeling sad and insecure for far too long and, unfortunately for my incessant need to assign blame, it's not really anyone's fault. Except maybe mine.

I thought our current situation was finally getting somewhere.

Not in a relationship sense, because that's really not happening.

But in terms of just sort of chugging along, I thought we were alright.

We sleep together, we spend time together, I've been introduced to friends... I didn't really think he had room for anyone else because I certainly didn't. And yet it seems that he has been keeping his options well and truly open.

I think I tricked myself into thinking that this wasn't or wouldn't be a problem, but then a few weeks ago I overlooked what we'll call "an indiscretion".

Despite being informed that this reaction was not allowed - I had, after all, entered into this hideous non-relationship quite knowingly - I was upset. A little bit of that was out in the open, but to the casual outsider and to the boy in question, it was short-lived. If it's ever mentioned now, it's in something akin to jest.

Privately, though, I was absolutely crippled with grief. I can't even begin to put it into words, lest it spark mass suicide. I wish I was lying when I said that I was heartbroken, but there you go. It was - in the worst twelve months of my entire life - the thing that hurt the most.

In his defence, it's not even the first time, really, so I don't know why I expected anything else. I'm certainly not angry about it anymore. He's probably right about it being okay. He's certainly right in the sense that I was forewarned, anyway.

But recently, I've just been getting a little bit too cosy, I think. What a little idiot.

Granted, it was probably naive of me to think that we'd be alright. We're just not. It's absolutely fine being almost-friends who sleep together, and in many ways that's probably the ideal, but that only works as long as one of you doesn't get carried away with stupid feelings. And I always get carried away with stupid feelings.


It has come to my attention in the last few days that I need to protect myself. I was flung into a state of panic the other day by the mere suggestion that IT could be happening again at some point in the coming weeks, and I just CANNOT COPE.

I agreed to be in a non-relationship. I agreed to devalue myself. I agreed to be a stop-gap until someone better comes along. I agreed to settle for something that I told myself I never would.

So I can't blame anyone else for the way I have felt or for the way I am currently feeling. I put myself here. I put my already-broken, barely-functioning, battered and bruised self here. With someone who has THREE TIMES demonstrated that my absolute weakness for them is something to be taken advantage of.

So in exactly the same way as I got myself into this mess, I think I'm just going to have to take myself out of it.


Tuesday, 17 September 2013


Emotionally-speaking, I have had a hideous couple of weeks.

At first I tried to blame it on social networking, because it seemed that my incessant over-sharing and passive-aggressive bitching was at the root of a lot of the arguments I was having.

But now, having now completed ONE WEEK without twitter, it is safe to say that I am actually WORSE without those things. As some of us have come to learn this week, I find it nigh on impossible to deal with anything if I can't tell everyone about it in 140 characters or less.

And, also, I am just a terrible person.

In real life, I could spend a year with people before I'd dare to bother them with how I take my tea. I have childhood friends who couldn't tell you what my favourite colour is. There are people I eat fifty percent of my meals with who don't have A CLUE that they should probably be protecting me from a dangerous kiwi allergy.

I basically work on a need to know basis. If you've got my name and general location, we'll be okay. I feel like I'm bothering you with the other stuff.

AND YET on the internet, I will happily tell anyone anything, and I'll do it without them asking (or wanting) me to do so. This is partly due to the fact that my talents as a writer far exceed those that I have acquired as an actual live human person, but also because the internet gives you the power of takesies backsies. If I accidentally say something terrible or expunge an emotion, I can delete the tweet, blog or conversation and never have to deal with it again. Or explain it away, using skills that I do not possess in a one-to-one situation.

Speaking of which, I alluded to some sort of emotional turmoil back there. AND I WASN'T KIDDING. I have been a mess for a while now and it does seem like this has finally tipped me over the edge.

I'm crying a lot, I'm eating basically nothing and nobody loves me and I want to die.

I just can't SPEAK to people anymore. It is horrible to live your life with I Love Yous on the tip of your tongue and Help Mes stuck in your throat. I do think a lot of it is a fear of rejection or something, but some of it comes down to me essentially just not having the social skills to be able to approach people when I need them. And this past week I have really needed them.

So, I'm going to go and work on that, and you people should all go and focus on developing psychic abilities so that my intense feelings of loneliness, abandonment and depression don't get me launched off a bridge before Hallowe'en.