Don't Look Back

How do I describe how I'm feeling right now?
Drained. Empty. Lost.

What has done this to me?
Well I (being the self-destructive idiot that I am) decided to read all the saved conversations I have from Emotionally Unintelligent and his friends just before we 'broke up' (the inverted commas are there because how can you break something that was never whole?) so that I could finally delete them.
We were mid-fight because he had been a rude, obnoxious, unsympathetic cunt to my friends and had never made an effort to make me feel of any value to him. All the signs were there. He ended every comment on a delicate subject with 'lol' and avoided every challenging statement I made. I was so frustrated at the time with him for dodging any chance for us to connect and argue and fight and say what needed to be said. But reading back, I was just frustrated with myself for letting him bypass what was so desperately vital for us to keep going. I tried my hardest and when he didn't tug back, I gave up. I should have ended it, right there, right then. I should have, I could have, I didn't.
Afterwards I sat here in front of my computer and I cried. Then I sat on my bed and I cried some more. I cried and I cried for this girl that got so lost she couldn't even see a sign so blindingly obvious. I cried for the destruction of a whole relationship with another human being and the fragility of any friendship you may form in life. I cried for reasons I will never realise. I cried for the emptiness that has been torn inside me. I cried for this unfulfilled feeling I have far too frequently nowadays. I cried for the sake of crying. I cried for a release. I cried because I cry and that is what I do.

Yes, I cry. That is my thing now. I cry at least once every two weeks, because if I don't it all comes bawling out because someone left the milk out, or someone said something out of line. I will be balancing on a tightrope, and suddenly something will push me over the edge and I will howl tears that don't settle me but leave me confused and scared by the inconsistency of my own feelings. I used to get angry, now I just cry.

I blame the hormones.

J x

Procrastination of the Highest Calibre

I should be writing a history essay on which methods the Palestinian Arabs used to try to secure an independent homeland in the 1960s and 70s, but I figure it can wait whilst I drool over this beauty


Mateus Verdelho. Even without the abs and the biceps and the many very well-placed tattoos, this man would probably still be classed as hot simply for his name. Mateus Verdelho. Say it with me girls! Mateus Verdelho.... yum.

Mid-season Crisis of Hair

At this current moment of time, I feel like a giant baked potato.

Today I begin the long and tedious stages of returning to being a Blonde. I have forty minutes till I can unveil the colour, though right now I'm slightly dreading the caramel hues that lie beneath all this tin foil. Seriously people, someone really needs to create a hair dye soon that can transform hair from the deepest chocolate brown to barbie blonde in one go, so that I can have my Jekyll and Hyde moments without the nothingness transition colour in between.
I have always liked the idea of living by seasons; blonde by Summer, brunette for the Winter. When I'm older and far richer I want to have Winter and Summer homes too. If I'm rich enough, maybe even Spring and Autumn ones - new york in Autumn is a given; Paris in Spring would be beyond perfect.
I really was beginning to be enjoy having a head of deep reddish brown and I'd been juggling with the idea of maybe not turning back blonde for a while like I had originally planned, but you can only see so many hot blondes without wanting to emulate them - Take Kate Hudson, Sienna Miller, Jeniffer Aniston, Kristen Bell, Kate Bosworth, Cameron Diaz....
Not that there aren't stunning brunettes. Erm hello, Angelina Jolie. Need I say anymore?
But still, I wanted to go back to being blonde again, at least for a while. Turns out, not so simple. Kapow Blonde is going to have to be put on the back burner, whilst I try to make Is-It-Blonde-Is-It-Brown? hair work. For a couple weeks I may just have to tell everyone that my hair is having a crisis of identity and be done with it. Let's just see. I'll let you know just how train-wreckish it looks later.

Fingers crossed,
J. x

A Quick One To Lift The Mood

So I'm ill again. Fucking wonderfuckingful fucking luck. Fuck.

Mumford and Sons are making me feel that eeny weeny bit better though

I love them.
J ♥

The Lovely Bones

We've gone back to how we were a few months after the summer, where we'd started drifting and conversations were strained. Can't deal with this this soon, it's only been a month and a week for goodness' sake! I'm nowhere near ready to move on/let go! I can't even bloody bring myself close to getting with someone else; even when I'm totally pissed and there's someone beside me who's up for it, I still manage to stop myself (and let me tell you that is a mean feat when I am so drunk that I can barely see)!

To try and pass the time I have been on tumblr for hours on end; the obsession has gotten worse, I physically cannot stop myself from going through every page on every blog that seems remotely interesting. I have become addicted to staring at pictures of beautifully skinny girls; not very healthy, especially since the pictures have inspired me. Not in a "I want to lose weight and be skinny so that I can look at myself in the mirror without wanting to cry" kind of way (although that is also part of it), but mainly because, terrible as it is to say, I want him to take notice of me. I want him to be worried about me, scared for me, and I know that is a horrible thing to wish upon someone, but I simply can't help it. Doesn't everyone crave a bit of attention? It's a way of seeing if someone really cares for you, and it's reassuring when you have people around you who want to look after you.


Looking at that picture, her beautifully sharp hipbones, you know something is wrong- that's what I love about it. It's the fragility of a skinny person that I find so mesmerising, it's like a way of externalising how they feel inside. So maybe if he saw me looking noticeably skinnier, he'd worry. Or maybe he'd go off me completely due to my lack of boobs. I don't know, but maybe it's worth a try? Because then, I found this picture:

And the thought of that scares me a million times more than being hungry for a while.
♥ C

Countdown to Summer Begins..

Such such SUCHH a beautiful day today, I seriously thought it was summer; then I stepped outside and almost froze to death. But still, so beautiful. It was one of those days when you just feel happy to be alive, and have the urge to wear floral, eat fresh food and drink rosé. Or maybe that's just me.
Either way, this summer will be extra special not only because it will mean the end of Big Exams, but because I will be seeing Foreign Lover again! Woo!! Although I spent most of the day fantasising about seeing him again, typically I began worrying about it too. Seriously, my worrying is getting out of control; I remember when I heard he was coming to London, I got so worried that I got to the point where I had decided that it would be better if he didn't come at all. I know. Ridiculous. But still, inevitable for me. Today, I started thinking about the fact that because last time was so amazing, this time wouldn't be as good and I would end up disappointed. I think the reason last time was such a success was that due to my excessive preparation for all the worst scenarios, I wasn't expecting too much so I was pleasantly surprised when everything went perfectly. The best thing is probably not to think about it too much as, after all, it is in 5 fat months.
However, that is not how things work in C's world. Planning is essential, which perhaps explains why I found myself on tumblr at one a.m. going through hundreds of pages of pictures for inspiration for summer outfits. Sadly, this had the opposite effect as I ended up depressed due to all the beautiful people I came across, and am now undecided whether to go blonder or browner. I am ridiculously temperamental when it comes to decisions regarding the colour of my hair. The thing is though, Foreign Lover's friends are all gorgeous and to be honest I am shitting myself at the thought of meeting them, hence the craziness at needing to look good. It's bad enough meeting a prospective lover's friends, but when half of them look like models and you need to prove to them that it's not a waste of time that we like eachother despite living in different countries, the pressure is REALLY on. I mean, what the hell do I do when there's not even enough time to go on a diet before seeing him because of Big Exams? And how am I supposed to make a good impression on a bunch of French rich girls who will probably hate me? NOT TO MENTION how in God's name am I going to be able to buy all these amazing outfits that I have dreamt up..???
For now, all I can comfort myself with is this picture of this girl's amazing hair:

Dont know why, but I can't stop staring at it. A sign that I should go darker for summer perhaps? Come to think of it, all of Foreign Lover's exes were brunette.. maybe it IS a sign!?!

Oh fuck that. God knows I will have found an excuse not to by tomorrow.

nighty night,

♥ C

How Old Am I Again?

Everything seems to be slowing down. Perhaps its the run-up to the Big Exams, or maybe people are just more interested in living like a hermit nowadays. Whatever it is, I have spent far too many weekends sober and have actually resorted to watching Friday Night With Jonathon Ross, curled up in a blanket, ready to fall asleep by eleven.
Last weekend C and I spent all of friday to sunday at our friend's house. We did not go out, bar going for walks on the nearby fields and popping to the shops on a mission to get self-raising flour for our morning pancakes.
Things are changing.
Vodka shots have been replaced with glasses of red wine.
Dubstep has been taken off the playlist, for Laura Marling and Florence & the Machine.
Nights Out have been traded for Nights In.
Yes. That's right. J is now a domesticated forty-year old.
Part of me likes it; that feeling of sophistication. The pride of maturing far faster than our peers. But last night, I realised how bad it had gotten.... Last night, I was ready to go to bed at nine o'clock.
Of course I didn't go to bed then because Man Whore - one of C and I's best male friends, who is undoubtedly the sluttiest of them all - invited himself over and kept me awake till I kicked him out on his ass at quarter to one.
Nevertheless, my point still stands. I was ready to sleep at nine o'clock on a saturday night. Forget forty, I'm basically living in a retiring home. Oh dear.

With love,
J

Setting The Scene, From J

The lowdown on my life? Far less dramatic than C's, I can assure you, because sadly, I am not in love. I don't think I ever have been and I am starting to doubt that I will ever even notice when Cupid pricks me with an arrow. How does one know when they are in love - how can you seperate feelings of lust between feelings of another, more over-used L word?
I did think I was in love with 'the ex' - if you can even call him that. In fact, let's name him by the trait he is best know for: being Emotionally Unintelligent. He was so uncaring, self-centred and downright thick that we spent three months 'together', yet emotionally on totally different pages. I had allowed myself to become trapped in a relationship that didn't even truly qualify as a relationship, because he couldn't be bothered to make the effort to take that step into couplehood. What a lovely lad he turned out to be.
My point is that during the Christmas holidays - which I have learned are as much about loneliness as festive cheer - he was having massages on some faraway beach whilst I was still stuck in relationship purgatory back in busy, grey London. All that loneliness and abundant free time manifested itself in a ridiculous fantasy of mine, in which Emotionally Unintelligent was the complete opposite of himself. I built up an alter-ego and fell in love with it.
In my alternative world, he was kind and sweet. He told me how much he valued what we had, as well as showing it in the way he held me close. I played over reels and reels of sappy movie scenes in my head, where we were the ones kissing in the rain and walking hand in hand down the street. He was my Leo, my Brad, my George. He was himself - only better.
It took me a long time to realise that I was in love with a fabrication of my own touchy-feely Hollywood vision of what romance should be, not the boy I was so distant from.
All in all, to this day, although I am only sixteen, I have never been in love. Probably not even close. I have the rest of my life for love, but I am so very impatient so anytime soon would be nice....

I'll keep you posted

J
♥

The Lowdown From C

Right, so I kind of stupidly fell in love with someone who lives in France. To be honest, I always knew I would fall for someone who lived in a different country, and although I know that I am waaay too young for him to possibly be 'The One', and that 'your teenage years are all about heartbreak' (reassuring words from J's mother), this does not change the fact that I have, in fact, fallen for him and that now I have no clues what the fuck to do. When I'm at school, although I go on about him all the time, repeating countless stupid stories again and again to whoever will listen, it's not so bad as I am distracted, have work to do and other people's problems to listen to. HOWEVER, the worst part is the evenings, where rather than doing work that is way past due, I find myself sitting in front of the computer, staring at the little 'chat' box with his name on it urging it to turn green, waiting for an inbox for him which never comes, and my heart jumping every time my phone bleeps with a text, never from him of course.

These joyous evenings often end with a minor breakdown of tears accompanied by the songs on my depressing playlists that I made just so I could feel as though someone understood how I felt. This is really bad. I am going to fail my Big Exams because of this boy, and for what? It's not as though I'm going to see him anytime soon, and when he does actually bother to reply to my messages, they disappoint heavily. Tonight for example, after four days of silence, he, rather untactfully, tells me about a party he is going to this weekend where 'it will be fun as there are no parents so we can sleep over :) dont tell my mum haha :p'. Oh yes, HOW HILARIOUS. So I will be in the countryside, bored out of my mind, surrounded by old people and dreaming of a cigarette, while he is 'having some fun' with god knows who. I am aware that I sound like an old woman here, but I simply do not want to know about this. I mean, I'm not naive enough to think he's going to stay away from girls until we see eachother again, but this piece of unnecessary information is doing me no good and just making me depressed thinking of him with other girls, so why did he decide to tell me? There are two options here: 1- he could be trying to push me away as he has realised there is no point in us liking eachother as we are only ever going to see eachother twice a year, and there really is no future for us, or 2- he is a complete imbecile.

I'm praying to the sweet lord above that it's the second option.

Another night of depression awaits... And who ever said being in love was amazing. Yeah. No. I need to get a grip.

♥ C