Oh, how I try, to be just okay.

I'm glad you came. It's nice to see you.

Perhaps I should change my name, change my identity, change my mind.
Flitter through life without an aim. Without a dream.
At least that way I couldn't fail.

But the thing is, I'm really liking who I'm becoming.
And I love that it came out of what I was.
I'm really believing that this now, right here, is just one chapter of many past and still to be written in the book of my life.

I could be anything.
It doesn't matter that I still have no dreams because I'm living, truly living for the first time in a long time.
Yes, I'm still sad, but it's a quantifiable sadness, it doesn't seem at odds with the flow of the world.
Part of the ups and downs.

And in the meadows, the flowers are forcing a path through the dirt. Each colour, each bud, each blade of grass is giving me a little bit more hope that the dawn is coming. That soon it will be spring. The sunshine will stay. We can go outside in pretty sweaters and oversized shades, wearing our tops like dresses. And we will radiate the beauty all around us. And we will see it too. In the little things, in the shimmer and the sunset, the cold air at dawn. But most of all, in ourselves.

You are beautiful.

<3

The only think I know to do is turn up the music and pray that she makes it through.

I love you all.

I love you all too darn much to not be here anymore.

I have been reading your blogs, hungrily pouring over your pages of beauty, finding pieces of you that fill the gaps in me.
Longing for more. Longing to comment. Longing to post.

I scared, but it's a rush.
The thrill that maybe I'll get caught.
Knowing he could look for it again.
Do I want him to?
No.
It's not about that.
It's about me. Me me me.


And yet my fingers tremble.
Nervously pressing the keys.
Their clicking magnified in the the silence.
Each sound a thousand worries. Each tap a rebellion.
I'm fighting.
I'm going to come out stronger. Just you wait and see.

I'm taking it easy, bright and breezy.
I'm living it up, just fine and dandy.
And it really doesn't matter if I never eat.
It really doesn't matter if I never sleep.
When tomorrow comes, I'll do it all again.

I'm scared I'm being watched.

Don't you understand? You're not meant to read this. It isn't for you anymore.

Walls.

I'm building them up again. There is no point in being weak when there is noone to share with. No need to be completely vulnerable again.
I spent two years unbuilding what was reformed over night.
I must be strong. I must embrace it.
This terror, surly it will pass?
The fear of day break, of lonely hours.
It's just a phase.
Soon I can block it out too.
I'm grasping at the weak ties of friendship, torn between bridge building and swimming.
See the river, it already took my damn, maybe it's meant to have me too.
But how can I go with the flow when I have so many responsibilities?
So many obligations, tying me to the bank.
I want to let go, but then what would I have? I would gain nothing yet let down everyone.
No, that I cannot do.
So I let myself be stretched.
Further and further.
One day I'll snap again.
I can't let myself get there - there's noone to pick up the pieces.
So I must paint my body with rubber; line the vortex of my soul with things stronger than myself.

Fuck me.

God. I'm so frecking angry. So upset.
This rage, I want to rid myself from it. I cannot escape it.
It's not rational. I know this. I wish it was. It would make more sense.

I said I was going to leave behind "unhealthy eating" but it's just not that easy. I can't. I haven't purged or cut since 23rd December. But I have been bingeing and counting and restricting. I feel fat, ugly, unloveable. I'm a failure.

I'm sad. I miss andrew. I miss having someone to talk to about everything; to tell how terrified I am by uni, how overwhelmed I am. I have a meeting tomorrow with Jenny from the Christian Fellowship of Healing. I'm scared about that. She is a 'Christian listener' trained in counseling and things. I'm really not that good at talking. I don't know why I'm bothering. Fucking hell. I'm too overwhelmed. On Thursday I'm meeting with a mental health mentor from uni for the first time. I don't know why I'm bothering with that either. I don't know what kind of help I want. I just know that I'm not coping. I'm barely surviving.

Oh fuck.

One day I'm gonna whistle.

sweetpea posted this on her wonderful blog. It think it is the best thing ever, for a while at least.
She also awarded me this:

An award, for my blogging. It gave me butterflies. 

The rules state that I have to share ten random things about myself and award this to five other beautiful bloggers who write from the heart.

1) I always wished my name was George or Charlie.
2) I dream of one day having my own kitchen where I can label and alphabetise everything and not have it messed up by people who don't know the system.
3) My favourite piece of furniture is a dresser I found on the street.
4) My favourite wine glass was also found on the street.
5) My left wall covered in a collage of photos, beside my bed I keep my three favourite people - my brother, (not)my andrew, and my margaret.
6) I am a pathological liar.
7) I love playing netball.
8) I miss Canada, and the people who made me feel so worthwhile there.
9) I love Karine Polwart, Juliet Turner, and Yvonne Lyon.
10) I share my bed with a lion called Desmond, a rabbit called Mopsy and a cow called Poptart.

People who deserver this award more than me:
1) Bella, such beautiful sadness
2) Sofia, such heart
3) Heathersays, such dreaminess
4) Barry, such profound musings
5) Athena, such life

It is all of a sudden tomorrow and I was going to have an early night so I am not going to muse anymore. I love your support, and that people actually read whatever jumbled mess I spew out. It makes me feel so special. I will go to sleep thinking of you and be happy. x