Monthly Archives: April 2014

Time to make decisions

So. Long time no write? I dunno. Anyway. Been a bit busy lately, between uni and my relationship with alcohol, I can’t say I’ve been that inclined to write. But today’s, I have decided will be short and sweet (ish?).

I suppose before I start I need to introduce myself a bit. I’m 25. Moved to france when I was 13. Big self confidence issues (which obviously stems from a variety of things), concerning various things to do with my body and not being smart enough, creative, good enough etc. Never been in a long term “love” relationship. I hate eating tomatoes and most seafood. Very picky about food. I collect stamps (no really. I do). And… I can’t think of much, except that I think I’m a nice person. I’m good, generous and kind.

Now, please walk in what we have been talking about for the past 3 months. Mr T. I’ve been thinking, and it’s all my fault. When we first met, I have noticed him, but being too shy I would never have gone up to him. He said to a friend something like, “Oh I like your friend bla bla bla”. So I thought, wow for once, I like someone… and it seems they like me back? Well… I took the little courage I had, and texted him. Anyway. Long story. The first time I had seen him again after our first meeting, he had mentioned that there was kind of a thing with another girl. So I said, “Ok. That’s fine. I’m not going to persuade you to do anything. Have a good night.” And I left. He text me 30 mins… and all the shit that followed happen. I think now, it’s finished. He treated me like his weekly whore, and I think I’m worth more than that. I can make someone happy. Just not him. A friend of mine (A) said to me that we are both running after ghosts… and neither of us believe we are worth being loved etc, and that we prefer to run after a dream, because a dream stays in your head, and in your head, you decide on the happy ending each time. And I suppose that’s right. Every time I think of him, I say that it’s really a shame. A shame because for the first time, I thought I had found someone I could stand still with a bit. Sure, the guy has problems and faults, but for some reason they didn’t bother me… maybe because I thought I could resolve them? Who knows. In any case, what was rather frustrating with T, was that I was obviously falling in love with someone, and I don’t want to keep dreaming and letting me being treated like a second class citizen. So I emailed him like a few times, asking him to tell me what I was to him. If it was no, of course I’d be sad, but at least I could start to forget… but he would never reply properly, always stayed vague. I tried to understand… to no avail. So. I needed to make a decision. Because my heart was braking for a guy who just didn’t care. (I’m skipping a whole painful episode of my friends telling him to leave me alone, and stop breaking my heart, as well as the other girl finding out etc. BUT also, last week she being there, and him ignoring me, but going up to her and talking and her, (this was funny and sad at the same time) she slides by him, looking at him seductively and walks away. It’s funny, because you want to tell her “Hunny. This isn’t an american rom-com, be normal yeah?” and secondly because acting like that, is a game, it’s like, look how much you walk me, let me play with you. Which just shows, in my opinion that he’s her weekend distraction when she comes to the city. But hey. He prefers that, good on him.).

So yeah, of course it will be hard to stop it, but I need to. The thing with him, he doesn’t understand women. He also has no balls. No courage. He likes to live in a dream world where he’s Sid Vicious, a rock’n’roll dude, who’s misunderstood etc. He’s not. Bit by bit he’s becoming the loser no one want’s to be friends with. And yet, I still like him. Probably because I’m fucked up in a different way. But also, because I know I would be good for him, and he would be good for me. But. You can’t run after someone who doesn’t want you. Out of respect for myself I can’t. I decided to fight fire with fire and burnt a photo I had of him. His response was that of a child, something like “Cool, I don’t want a photos of me on this planet”. He honestly sounds like a 12 year old. Not a 31 year old.

In the end, this is what is going on in my mind. I like this person. He doesn’t. I often wonder why her and not me. But no one can really answer that question really can they? Sometimes you just can’t. But I’m just angry that he came back and used me again and do the same thing again. He used me. And it’s my fault, because I let him because I thought it was the right thing to do. I’m not a bitch. I wanted to be a good person. But in the end, you can’t deny, a guy who cuts his arms up, staples his ears, lost his job and is a semi-alcoholic who is fucked up in the head isn’t exactly what women say to themselves as the best thing since sliced bread! So I have decided to take some advice he once said to me, “you are too good for me”. Yes. Yes I fucking am. And that other girl, clearly is just right for you, and not as awesome as me. That may seem pompous but I need to grab some self confidence back, because he broke me. Broke me into a million pieces. Because I was in love for the first time… but I’m only 25… so fuck knows, Maybe the next one will be less of a wait?


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I have finally come to realise that happiness is all about your friends. Not going to feel sorry for myself anymore. Going to smile for real now.





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When depressed and unhappy…

Yummy!Do like I do… order two expensive pizzas and eat them on your floor like a tramp, while listening to Nirvana and Billy Holiday.

Slashing your veins IS a possibility, but I already hate washing and hoovering the floor… so, out of respect for the people who have to clean homes and flats after murders and suicides, I’ve decided to drown my sorrows in copious mountains of slices of pizza’s with ridiculous names. These names vary… last night was quite a culinary “round trip” :

1) The Sydney, Quite a strange pizza since if I may, it had fuck all to do with what I imagine Sydney tasting like. Here was barbecue sauce, ground beef and onions… I don’t know what I thought Sydney would taste like…

2) London Bacon (apparently the london one needed to be specified… stupid really since there was not a “London Chicken” or anything, but hey, maybe they thought we eat bacon or something)… which is strange since we are nicknamed “Roast Beef” by the French… so being called “London Beef/London Roast” would technically made more sense… but who am I to know?

So… unless you think I made the wrong choice (pizza over suicide) I bid you good morrow!


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Perception : ”We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.”

We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars

Oscar Wilde

Okie dokes, where to start? Well last night was… an illumination in more ways than one. Firstly… I was pissed. Now don’t get all judgy, I’m a 25 year old adult and segundo I can hold my liquor. So now that my alcohol situation is out of the way, I can start my tirade of anger… or shall I say… rant of realisation. Any how, the finality was that I felt as though I had been mind fucked. Todays subject with be the perception we have of others, and I suppose how they differ to reality.

I have to of course talk about myself before making my final statement (I believe it’s done like that in law). I am perceived, per say, as the happy, bubbly, talkative extrovert who makes friends easily and who apparently seems muy outgoing. This is what I was call a mask. No one in life really walks around crying and screaming I AM DEEPLY UNHAPPY. No. i’m not saying that some people are worse off than others, we are all individuals, with our own problems, hopes, fears… and you can’t make a universal rule stating which problems are more important or less important than others. That said, sure it is commonly agreed… being raped is far worse than… your mother not letting you buy the last GameBoy game. Duh. But… as adults we all have our own issues, and it is important to listen and understand that everyone deals differently with every problem.

What I am talking about is this “mask” we all wear… or in some cases, don’t. I have noticed, and I can say this with authority and confidence, people who usually self harm don’t usually desire for death… they long for someone to notice the signs, and help them. People who truly want death, they don’t usually shut themselves in their room listening to Stiff Little Fingers or Billy Holiday and cutting themselves. Generally unhappy people wear a mask out in their everyday lives and only a fair few know of their true sentiments. I for example, I don’t feel the need or the desire to be pitied. Shit happens. Sometimes nice people get more shit than others. That’s life. I suppose that’s why I have little patience for lazy, childish people who walk around telling anyone who will listen that life is crap, that nothing will every get better. Sometimes it doesn’t get better, but you better try. I honestly believe we are the lucky ones here. We live in Europe, specially me in France. We get FREE HEALTHCARE. This may seem not important, for people with illnesses that are incurable (like moi for ex) this is such a weight of your shoulders. Of course I don’t have money, I’m a student, but I get by. And I don’t have to worry about paying for… headache tablets… or my asthma inhaler or whatever. Let’s look at… Syria… best holiday location ever… right? Come on. Many cities blown to pieces, people dying of hunger, little or no education, no sexual or male/female equality… apart front he bombs going off, they now have an outbreak of Polio! Woo hoo! Doesn’t that put our own problems into perspective? Fuck yeah. Get off your chair and try. Wear a mask if you need to, I’m not saying you have to pretend everything is ok, everyone has their own way of dealing with their own shit… but we don’t have it that bad here!

I mean, look, your ex has broken up with you? Cry. Sceam. Buy clothes. Fuck everything in sight. Buy a dog. Eat McDonalds. Complain. But at some point, it get’s better, there’s no point wallowing in the past. Hating. The worst thing you can do to someone is indifference. I swear, I am able to do this to others but when it’s done to me, I’m broken.

Second example. You failed a class, a years worth of university… whatever. THIS IS NOT THE END OF THE WORLD.

I suppose what gets me is that, seriously… the only thing you need to worry about is your health and your security. Because to be honest, you only have one life! If you die, who gives a shit that you were dumped, or you failed a class, or your grandfather died? I remember a phrase which I absolutely love from Catcher on the Rye by Salinger, which is :

“Boy, when you’re dead, they really fix you up. I hope to hell when I do die somebody has sense enough to just dump me in the river or something. Anything except sticking me in a god dam cemetery. People coming and putting a bunch of flowers on your stomach on Sunday, and all that crap. Who wants flowers when you’re dead? Nobody.”

You get me? When you’re dead, there’s fuck all you need or want. So this is why I firmly believe on picking your sorry ass off the ground and shaking off those feelings and trying your best. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t, but life is worth trying… if you believe it’s worth living.

So, as I was saying about masks… sure, we off give off a vibe or a perception, but i can tell you for a fact, like with anything, when someone is overcompensating… something is wrong. For girls, a guy is too nice to you? He wants to fuck you. A girl is too nice to a guy? She really likes you. A person is always too happy, saying yes all the time? Invite them round for tea. Something is wrong. A friend is always depressed and listening to the misfits and feeling sorry for themselves? Give them a kick up the arse. They need a push.

I realise their are some really unwell people out there, and they obviously need to see a specialist, but this is what the average joe is. This is what life is for most of us lucky ones who don’t live in a place with bombs falling on us, or living with the fear or mass rape, murder, torture… or living somewhere were there is no equality, where access to healthcare and education is unheard of. I suppose I have little patience for people who don’t seize the opportunities given to them, and prefer to stay in the dark.

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