And I'm conversing with myself...

Wednesday 6:30am: Shit. It's Wednesday, and I haven't been to the gym at all this week. I'll go tonight, straight after work. I'll pack all my gear up now, because I really have to go. I'm trying to get fit, and healthy, and I was doing really well last week.

Wednesday 12:45pm: Fucking hell, this day has been truly shitteous. 12:45! Are you fucking kidding me? I feel like I've been here for hours. I could annihilate a glass of wine, right now. As soon as I get home, I'll pour myself a glass of wine, pick out a good book and relax. Some me time is just what I need. Oh, that's right, I'm going to the gym after work. Damn, I really don't feel like going, now.

Wednesday 4:50pm: Okay, I'm calling it a day. Off to the gym. I have to go, even though I really don't want to, but I really should, because I always feel better after going.

Wednesday 5:00pm: Ugh, I just want to go home, eat, then crawl into bed with a book. Oh, food! What should I have for dinner? Okay, I won't go to the gym tonight, because I'm ridiculously tired, but I'll have a salad for dinner. That's healthy, so I can feel less guilty about missing the gym.

Wednesday 5:30pm: Hmm, it's been ages since I've had pancakes. I really, really feel like them now. Hey, breakfast for dinner is always awesome, except, I don't have eggs, so I can't do it tonight. I could always Google an egg-less pancake recipe, but then I'm not having my salad, which is the only reason I let myself miss the gym. Well, I won't have toppings on the pancakes; nothing is better than syrup, right? Okay. G'damn, I'm excited for pancakes.

Wednesday 5:40pm: I really should use those chocolate chips up. They've been in my cupboard for a while, just sitting there. It'd be a waste to throw them out, although, do chocolate chips go bad? I better use them, just in case. I'll add them to the pancake batter. These pancakes are going to be amazing.

Wednesday 5:45pm: Well, this has been an utter fail. I know, I'll add banana to the mixture, 'cause that's at least a little healthy.

Wednesday 6:00pm:  Ohmygod, these smell amazing. I bet they're really fucking delicious. This was the best idea ever.

Wednesday 6:30pm: G'damnit, I should have just had my fucking salad.

An Open Letter...

Dear ex-boyfriend,

I know we broke up some time ago, but we've been caught up in one of those “it's complicated" relationships for some time, too. It's taken us both a while to get shit sorted, but alas, it's finally happened. I've spent the past couple of months thinking; you know, deconstructing our relationship. Or maybe you don't know. Never mind; it's probably just a girl thing.

Anyway, I have a few things I want to get off my chest, and what better way to deal with everything, than sharing it all with anyone that has access to the Internet? If you aren’t going to give shit your all, go the fuck home, right?

I found myself looking through some old photos the other day, and I noticed that whenever I came across a picture of you, or of us, I paused. I would spend a couple of extra seconds, (okay, maybe minutes), glancing over those photographs and recalling all of the memories. This happens whenever you’re mentioned in conversation, too. (Yeah, having the same friends means that you’re mentioned more often than not. I’ll be honest, shit kind of blows, dude.)

Seeing you in pictures, or hearing about you in conversation, still causes a feeling and I’m not sure how long this will go on for. The crazy part of me (or maybe not the crazy part?) hopes that I get this little feeling for always, because if I get this feeling every now and then, when I see you or hear about you, it means we were more than just nothing, right? We were more than just a sentence in each others' story.  (Yeah, selfish me wants at least a fucking chapter.)

I wonder if sometimes, you think of me and get that feeling, too. A part of me (a big part) really hopes that you do. I don’t know if I come up in your conversations with our friends (sometimes I hope I do and sometimes I hope I don’t), or if you think of me every now and then, but I’d like to think that when I do come up, you have a feeling, too; a happy feeling. I hope that I mean just a little more to you, a little something different, than the next person.

Sometimes something happens and I reach for my phone with the intention of texting or calling you. I don't know how long this will go on for, either. It's made me realise how much I shared with you. You really were my best friend, and I really, really miss that part of our relationship; more than all the other parts, to be honest.

I miss your hugs. The safest I've ever felt was in your arms. I don't know how, 'cause let's be real, there’s not a lot of ass that you could kick. Like, yeah, you have muscles and shit, but, dude, you’re kind of tiny. When you wrapped your arms around me, though, and let me rest my head against your chest, tucked under your chin... well, you give great hugs; the kind that make you feel warm, safe, secure, important and loved. Fuck, I miss those hugs.

I have a few things from you in this box. There are a couple of lists titled ‘why I love you’. I kind of forgot I had them, and I can’t remember when you gave them to me, but they’re amazing. Some of the reasons you gave make me feel great about who I am as a person: the way you’re always honest, how you know what you want in life and where you want to go, how you always have your point of view, how organised you are. If these are things you saw in me, and that you loved, well, it makes me feel like I’m a semi-decent person.

Some of them make feel warm and gorgeous inside: that beautiful smile, that sparkle in your eyes, your giggle.

Some of them make me laugh: the way you like things perfect, the way you mock me, how you can make me do things when I don’t want to. Amazing.

There’s a letter you wrote me after we broke up (the first time), too. I reread it about two months ago and I’ll be honest, I bawled my fucking eyes out most of the way through it. I can’t bring myself to read it again; not this soon. I’m looking at it now, and just remembering the feeling I felt the last time, my heart drops. I’m sure one day, I’ll be able to open it without feeling all these feelings, but for now, I’ll tuck it back away in my memory box.

Now, you know I’m a hoarder, so I came across a few old birthday cards from you. I’mma give it you straight: you have shit taste in birthday cards, for real. When I seen these ones, I assumed they were from my grandma, not my boyfriend. Fix that for the next girl, yeah?

I miss sharing a bed with you. That's annoying to read, isn't it? I know I always used to complain about you being all up on this, but now I miss it. I miss that no matter how big the bed was, we'd always find ourselves tucked on one side of it. I miss that you "had" to hold me each night. I miss the way you wrapped yourself around me, even though, at the time it was fucking annoying because I could never move.

I don't miss the snoring, though. Not. at. all.

I miss knowing that I had someone. At the end of the day, I could go home and vent to you. Even if you didn't agree, if you thought I was being an overdramatic (I always was) girl, you always listened. You always had my back. Maybe not in public, which I know caused a couple of fights, but I knew at the end of the day I could count on you. I miss knowing I always had someone.

I know I've made it sound like everything was perfect, but oh god, we both know it wasn't. I'm selfish enough to want to feel like the most important person to someone, and I never felt like I was to you. That's a big part of why I walked away in the end; I was never sure if you loved me, or if it was easier to stay in the relationship because we'd been together so long and it was expected.

When we last broke up, (the for really good break-up), I spent a lot of time thinking about how alone I was going to be.  You hear all these stories about great love and I freaked the fuck out that you were my only chance at it and we’d managed to screw it up.  A lot of this thinking was the insecure, self-conscious girl in me; the girl that couldn’t see anyone else ever being interested in me.

I was legit scared that I’d be forever alone, though. I was ready to curl up in bed and cry into my fucking pillow about how I’d be living that old spinster life with the 42 cats, (but without the cats ‘cause I fucking hate them, so I’d really be all a-fucking-lone).

I’ve found out that’s not at all true, though.

I’ve slept with one person since you. Before this happened, but once I was over the whole ‘forever alone’ deal, I’d wondered what it’d be like: sleeping with someone that wasn’t you. Sleeping with someone else would be the final nail in the coffin of our relationship and I knew that. It'd be admitting that we really, really were over.  Once it happened, though, it didn't upset me as much as I thought it would. The world didn't end, I didn't cry my way through it, and, most importantly, I didn't regret it. In fact, it was after this had happened that I finally found some peace in regards to our relationship.

Every now and then, though, I think about you, and I, and that someone else, and I hate that you're not my last anymore.

I guess I'm just trying to tell you I miss you in a roundabout way. I know we’re doing the right thing, but you're always going to be important to me. There's always going to be a part of me that loves you like I don’t love anyone else. I’m finally finding my peace with that, though, and I hope that wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, that you are, too.

I miss you, I love you, but above all else, I wish you the best.
Thanks for the memories.

x J

I ain't missing you, at all...

I miss company. I'm not talking about hanging out, having a conversation, doing things with someone, company. I mean the 'sitting in a room with someone else - each of you doing your own thing - but both of you looking up every now and then, meeting each others' eyes and sharing a smile that only the two of you understand' kind of company.

And the battle wages on...

Everyday people pick their moments to stand up and fight; for something they want, or need, or for something they believe in. Every day. For something, or for someone, for life, or for love, for opinions, and values, and beliefs.

People choose their battle, they stand up and they fight. Easy, right?

So, when you're a little lost and you don't know what you want, or need, out of life, when you don't know who should be standing beside you and when you're not quite sure of what you believe in; in those moments, what are you supposed to fight for?

What are you fighting for, and is it worth it?

She wants what she needs...

She’s tired. She's just so. fucking. tired.

She can’t think of any other way to describe how she feels.

She’s stuck in a job she hates and she’s only just realising that it probably won’t take her anywhere; nowhere worth being anyway. She wishes someone had told her eighteen year old self that the choices she was making then were going to affect her for, well, forever. To be honest though, her eighteen year old self was a little shit and probably wouldn’t have listened.

(All those decisions she made back then, they were the wrong ones.)

She thinks her problem is that she wants too much. She wants too much of everything and she can’t just decide. She wants to go places, travel, but she wants to settle down; find somewhere to call home. She wants to live in a city that never sleeps and she wants to live in a small town; one of those ones where everyone knows everyone, and they’re all friendly and they’re all family.

She wants to be loved and wanted. She wants to be the friend that everyone trusts, the one they all come to for advice, and to vent. She wants to be the one they call when they have good news and the shoulder they cry on when things are bad.

She wants to be successful and happy. She wants a job that she loves to do, but she doesn’t know what exactly that is. She wants to work - to be able to support herself - but at the same time, she wants to do whatever she wants whenever she wants. She wants to be able to spend her days reading, drawing, writing, painting; everything and nothing at the same time.

She wants a family, but she's not sure she's ever going to find someone that gets her. Hell, most days she doesn't even understand herself, so how is she supposed to find someone else that will put up with all her crazy? She wants a family, though; people that will always be on her side, that will rely on her, that will support her. She wants people that she can call 'her people' even though nobody will even understand what she means by that. She wants people to dote on, to love, to share everything she knows she has to give with.

She wants it all, but she’s so fucking scared that it’s too late for anything.

Some days, she thinks she’s just making excuses for herself, though, because it’s a lot easier to keep wanting than it is to actually try.

I just want to be great...

"...if I can't be great at it, 

then I don't want to ruin it. 

It's too important to me."

- Peyton Sawyer, One Tree Hill.

I like to be able to do things. I like to be good at doing things. I don't like to fail at anything.

I had a conversation with a friend the other day; we were discussing things we were really good at, things that came naturally to us and in the end, I wound up describing myself with the phrase, 'a jack of all trades, but a master of none'. Sad. 


Seriously, it's crazy how frustrated/upset I am, now that I've realised this statement relates to me. I like being able to do things and I like to be able to do things really, really well. 

I have a hunger for knowledge, (a nicer way of saying I'm a nosy bitch) so I can pick up on things, learn them, fairly quickly. You can't learn talent, though, and that's what screws me up. I can learn the knowledge behind whatever task I'm trying to manage, I can become quite adequate at said task, but I never become great at it.

I don't want to just be able to do something. I don't want to just be good at something. I want to be exceptional. I want to be the best.