Monthly Archives: March 2014

When Life Throws You A Curveball

Lately I’m going to have to admit, life has been pretty stressful. Some people definitely have it worse than others, but I’ve noticed it’s the people who’s lives are what we would put as “classically” worse off than others, that are the ones masking their unhappiness the best. If I may quote ancient greek here, the term “hypocrites” means to “wear a mask”, and I feel like this best describes those who have deep rooted insecurities, hardships many of us may never understand, and generally people who cannot find happiness in the world that surrounds them. I feel that I fall into the latter category. Why? Mainly because I don’t feel the need to tell the world my problems and insecurities. The mask I wear daily is one of laughter, fakery and pretend fulfilment. I don’t feel the need to cry, listen to depressing music and cut my veins, because that would just be a sort of cry for help and as a woman, I refuse to succumb to the vision people have of women as the “weaker” and more emotional sex. Funnily enough, the people I know who are the ones who outwardly scream their pain, are usually those who self indulge in this “sad” culture. They enjoy the idea of being a misunderstood poet… except that these people are not Byron… they are just people who feel dissatisfied with the hand they have been dealt and instead of picking themselves off the floor, trying their best to make the best of what they have, or at least seeking professional help, they infest and rot their surroundings and the people they know. Many of these individuals neither have the balls to live their lives, nor have the balls to kill themselves.

Now do not misconstrue what I’m saying here. What I mean to say is that life is a gift, it’s up to us to try our goddam best to make the best of what we have. I’m not perfect. There are days I barely have the courage to slap on same make-up, crawl out of bed and face the world. But I try. I try my best to make the people around me proud. I try to not be a constant disappointment. Because, If I’m alive, I should at least live. If you don’t enjoy the life you have, there are two solutions : try and make it better, or kill yourself. But suicide is a selfish decision. I don’t know that many people know this, but I thought long and hard about suicide for many years, stemming from a long list of issues I had/have with myself… which then led to self harm. I finally realised that I was being a dick. I was wasting the life that I was given because I was dissatisfied and truly unhappy. I’m not saying I am better now, but I try. I try and act like the bubbly happy person that people know me for. And sometimes I am that happy person… But sometimes I’m not. But I refuse to show it. I don’t want pity from anyone.

In the end, we only have one chance and one life. So, instead of digging a hole with our bare hands and hiding, take a fucking shovel and dig yourself out. It takes time, but there’s no point regretting the curveballs you’ve been thrown. The best way to start afresh is to have a good look at yourself, and analyse what would make you happy. What will help you better change. What do I want? What do I need? Answer those questions, and you finally know what direction you’re walking. Because those who walk aimlessly through life are those who are lost. Ok, so you were dumped. Fine. Shit happens. Grieve, then get the fuck up and try again. It’s better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all. Why walk around feeling sorry for yourself? You might miss something really great, just because you had your eyes closed, and you were walking around blind.

True. I can give advice, but I am unable to take my own advice. Why? Who knows. But the idea stays : try.

And if everything else fails, make lemonade and try again.


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Filed under Beginnings!

Lock, Stock and Two Pints Too Many

Okie dokes. Where to start today? Difficult I’ll admit. Well. It’s a beautiful and sunny day here, and it can only put a spring in your step and a smile on your face. But, I shall talk today about something darker… what happens when you drink that golden nectar we all call beer (or for me, cider).

Today will continue from the last two I believe, but I can assure you, will be the last on the subject. Why you may say? Ah ha, I suppose like every good fairy tale, it has an ending! But not surprisingly (well for moi at least) not the ending you would desire. But that ladies and gentleman is not a shock, I mean come on, this is Roxy, everyone best friend! The last to be picked for sport etc! But, hey I’m not sad about that, I suppose you get used to that kinda shite anyway.

So, I’m feeling lazy and tired of all the shit to do with life, so I’ll be brief. Some friends of mine and I decided to do a onesie night and visit a few bars. We had copious amounts of gin at my flat, then headed to town. Now, we were very very hammered, so I feel like this probably explains why I went bat-shit crazy after (which for the people that know me, know I don’t do stuff like this, so yeah. Not my usual self!). We spend about two hours in bar C, and we left because there was live music, and I’m afraid to say we did not enjoy it! We then decided to go to bar MP. Mistake my friends would say, I on the other hand think with hindsight this was the only way, because visibly he didn’t have the balls to tell me, and I don’t want to live in wonder land (what pisses me off, is that I didn’t think he was a shit, I mean sure, I knew the guy had baggage (don’t we all?) but I swear I didn’t think he was this much of a heartless git. You will understand after, but holy fuck, I would have loved to say my own damn face, but anyway…) so I suppose at least I was… sure of his intentions (which to clarify here, is to clearly fuck me, lie and lie again, so super dooper Roxy!).

Anyway, so we all walk in, you could hardly miss us, because… I was dressed as a skeleton, one of my mates was a rabbit and the other one the cookie monster… so yeah. It’s not like we could “blend in”. Everyone in the bar was clapping and stuff, so they thought it was funny. We ordered a few pints and sat down. T’s mates came over and said hello (oh yeah, I forgot to say, dickface, or Mr T, was already there, but I ignored him, because, well he’s a big boy, if he wants to say hello he can, I don’t bite.) We had a few laughs… etc etc… I turn my face, and he is literally eating this girls face. I swear to you, all class went out the window, bit… sad really, I mean… seriously I think we are all old enough to know that PDA is a bit sad. Anyway. So, you are wondering what is going through my mind. Ah ha!!!! Well I was like, holy fuck, the dick. Ok fine. At least he’s made his choice, but didn’t have the balls to tell me. Okie dokes. Fine. I shall just enjoy my night anyway.

This is why I’m not totally sad about the whole thing, is because I have friends who love me and will defend me. One of my greatest friends screams “OI, T YOU FUCKING CUNT” across the bar. God Knows if he heard but hot damn does that make you feel good! This is when it gets funny, funny for me, definitely not for him. Now, I’ll remind you, I have never EVER done this, but as I saw him go to the lavatory, I shout “Oi. Dick head.” He pops his head up, and acts… mmm a mix between, drunk, surprised… and shock? No wait… shy… yeah he really hasn’t got balls… never thought about that. Oh well, (that said I usually go for shy guys but hey, maybe I should change hey?) I then (now I have got his attention) to shout something along the lines of, you piece of shit go fuck yourself. I can’t say I remember anyway. He then shuffles off.

I didn’t realise one of his mates heard and asked my friend C, what was wrong with me, she gave him an abbreviated version. (I found out the next day that he wasn’t aware of anything, so I’m thinking they can’t be THAT close. Oops. He said to C something along the lines of, oh well that’s probably girl A (in other words… well he’s got so many girls begging to date him that he has to class them, plan A, plan B…). Now, for people who know me, I have big issues with myself, my family etc but fuck me if I am going to be made to feel like a worthless pile of crap because a guy thinks I’m not good enough for him. So, even though I would of course want to see him again and all that jazz, for respect for myself etc, I can’t. I just can’t. I just hope he finds happiness. Or at least learns not to treat women like shite (although who knows, he may have made a special exception for me and decided to treat JUST me like shit! Who knows).

The thing is, in all seriousness, I don’t wish him ill. I really hope, he sorts himself out, maybe see a Psychologist or something. He has deep rooted problems, he doesn’t seem happy. Now visibly, I wasn’t the girl to help him, but maybe someone else will… but falling into another relationship… would just be a band aid… you can’t be happy with someone if you can’t be happy with yourself. I can attest to that, because I know how much I hate myself. I know why I hate myself, and yet I get up every day and try to be ok. I put on my mask and smile. The thing is, he likes wallowing in his own mess, that he thinks he’s the only one who feels the way he does. That’s called despair, and all I can say, is that everyone feels like that once in a while. So who knows what adventure lies on the other side, but if you don’t try, you can’t find out. As for me, oh well, it’s a shame, I really like like him, but what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger (argh, did I just quote Kanye West? Well… it WAS an expression before he made a shitty song) So… I’ll put that down to experience, and hope that one day it’s my turn for a great guy and a super relationship… or whatever! Until then, I shall… paint, draw, drink, laugh and cry! xxx

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Filed under Alcohol, Friends, Games People Play, Goodbye, Hate!, Loser Guys, Men vs. Women, Politics, Risk, Sadness, Shut The Fuck Up, Society, The future