As Told By Laura

Hi, I'm Laura and I'm 20 from the UK. Most of the blogs have been moved over from my previous blog but new ones will be added once inspiration is found. Sorry they can be long. I will also post some short stories/flash fiction every now and again.

[burntlikethesun]

thinking about the moment when the 'In memory of Bernard Cribbins' text comes at the end of the 60th anniversary episode, where he will have made his final appearance as Wilfred Mott, I'm going to be a wreck.

[as-told-by-laura]

Super Self-Psychoanalysis

It seems everyone is superhero mad at the minute and I’m in love as I always have been with every superhero movie I see. I never read comic books, I didn’t really have anywhere close to get them and as a kid they always seemed like an Americanised thing. I’ve been thinking lately why I love superhero movies so much because I swear every time they bring out a new one I obsess over them for ages. It’s not like I even want to have super powers or be a super hero, it’s too much responsibility for me to handle.  So after a lot of self-psychoanalysis I think I figured out why I love them so much. I thought I’d share the analysis with whoever wants to read this. Maybe you agree and maybe you don’t.

I think I believe I need protecting. Which believe me I know I don’t but there’s a certain part of me (likely the side that’s still twelve and has no idea how the world works) that’s still waiting to be saved by some guys love, a part of me is still waiting for a knight in shining armour on the back of a white horse/ a rebel in leather on the back of a motorcycle/ Mr fucking Darcy/ a superhero knocking at my window ready to whisk me away to wherever.  Yet the rest of me knows that it’s all bullshit, I don’t need saving. I’m doing fine on my own. Fairy tales/books/movies have it all wrong and the grown up side of me knows this. I don’t want to get rid of the childish side of me that loves a clichéd love story and is still expecting someone to throw rocks at her window (even though now it would either not wake me up or would and I would be very pissed off). I love superhero movies so much because I think I need one. I mean don’t we all dream of being taken away from our lives for a while? Isn’t that why we go on holiday? I swear if people start developing super powers my family will not see me, I will find those and either marry or befriend one of them. If I heard the TARDIS noise, all that would be left of me on earth would be an outline of my body and a cloud of dust. Because I still feel like I want to get away, there’s still a part of me that wants to have adventures and fall in love like you see in the films or read in books. But it’s just so unrealistic. As a writer I have to tap into the side of me that dreams of adventures because that’s what I use to write, but in day to day life I have to be realistic. Realistically I may never fall in love and live happily whenever after.  I wish it wasn’t true but there it is. We’ve been lied to from an early age, big shock. First Santa and the tooth fairy and now this absolute bullshit, this isn’t what I signed up for.  

I read somewhere once that you should become the hero your younger self needed, I’d like to think I have, in some ways. I hope that when I have kids I’ll be the hero they need when they get to the age of cut skin, bruised hearts and lowering self-worth. I don’t ever want my kids to the feel the way I and countless others did. I want to raise them to know how great they are, then maybe “Sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me” will actually be true. Rather than some bollocks your mum teaches you as a retort to the bullies. For me sticks and stones breaking my bones would have been the better option because fuck me words are like wasps only the stings stick like glue. Once the words are in your head they can never be forgotten. It wasn’t always words, sometimes it was a look or a whisper or a rumour in the school corridor. The kid that got bullied, my younger self, is still there inside of my head waiting to be saved and I wish that I could go back and tell her one day it won’t matter. As much. I mean yeah I cried today because it’s too warm and I don’t want to hide my legs anymore and people might start say shit because I’m on the larger side and I hate my legs, but a few hours later all I can think is fuck it. If anyone says shit I will just blind them with my paleness.  

The insecure side of me isn’t a side I show most people, if you pay enough attention to me then you’d see it but most people don’t. It’s the insecure side of me that wants the protection that wants to be whisked away in superman’s arms. It’s the side of me that causes panic attacks and then gets more upset because I wasn’t mollycoddled by everyone in the room (thank you Jessie for being a bae and taking one for the team). Why would I be? No one perceives me as someone who needs to be saved or protected. A friend has said it before “Since when did you need protecting?” those words spin around in my head way too often. It could have been a compliment but it wasn’t to me, it was validation that I wasn’t ever going to be one of those girls who guys see as theirs to protect and at the time it was mortifying. He was willing to protect all of the girls who were there but not me, because I could do it myself. I was probably about fifteen, a few years later and it still bothers the insecure part of me. I realised I don’t need protection but the offer or the hand wouldn’t be bad. It would be nice to know if I ever fell down or fell apart I would have a hand to pull me back up but until then I don’t mind picking myself up or putting myself back together. I have my friends but if they’re involved I would be the one doing the protecting.

Not need protecting isn’t a bad thing, I do know this believe me. I’m proud (as is my dad) that I don’t need other people to get by, in every argument my dad sees me having he bets on me because he knows he and my mum raised a very very independent women who is both a DIY queen and domestic goddess. I was raised to function alone in every aspect of life. I’m my own knight, my own rebel, my own Darcy and my own superhero. Who needs all those people when you have a crazy and inappropriate set of friends, a family that’s equally nuts and the knowledge that when life shoves you down the experiences you resent are the ones that taught you how to pull yourself back up.

[as-told-by-laura]

It had been years since Noah came here, as a child fishing rod in hand. Although they had brought sweetcorn to feed the fish and coax them out of hiding she often ate the treat herself. Noah couldn’t really remember much from her last trip here, only that the current party had held one more person, her grandmother. It had been many years since her passing and the loss was still felt by all. Her family discussed the memories that her brain just couldn’t grasp at. This was somewhere Noah could see herself coming a lot in the future, plenty of shade to read under and fields to run.  Images of an imaginary life clouded her thoughts; the picnics she could have with her future husband and maybe even a wedding, day trips out with the kids so they can run around and play. A life that may never be.

While the collection of family congregated around a bench, Noah decided to wonder. Chunky boots stamped over gravel paths, as though her legs remembered the way to somewhere her mind had forgotten. She danced down the hills on tip toes, arms raised over her head pretending to be just as graceful as a ballerina as she explored the ghosts of memories. Sun shone through breaks in leaves, Noah felt it heat patches of her skin like a set of warm hands touching her. She resisted the urge to lay beneath the largest tree and forget the world, although she wasn’t sure if her feet would allow the break.

Apparently the renovations had not reached the bottom of the hill as it looked more familiar. She could almost see herself sitting by the large pond, just waiting. What was once well-kept and friendly now looked wild and uninhabitable, so she decided against standing at the edge of the pond however Noah could not go back the way she came. But walking through a pack of Satan spawn geese and nettles was not something she wanted to do today, or any day for that matter. The only other route back to her family was a field that looked to be growing couples rather than just grass. Noah had two choices, weed her way through love in full bloom or brave a pack of hissing geese. She chose the geese, apparently fearing intimacy more than the nips of aggressive poultry.

Avoiding the unfriendly creatures as much as possible she made her way to the other side of the pond. The memory struck her like lightening hitting a tree. It was as though two images had moulded together. She was a child again, looking at her grandmothers approaching figure as she made her way from the eighteenth century hall. Noah realised that the burning loss she felt in her heart wasn’t necessary. No one is ever really gone. The light in the eyes of every man, women or child, explodes like a supernova in death. Leaving an imprint of their lives everywhere they went.

[as-told-by-laura]

I am Fat

I am fat. This is an impossible thing for me to admit to myself let alone anyone who reads this. I find it hard to admit because when it involves me, the word fat is linked to ugly. I say only when it involves me because I do not define anyone else’s beauty by a number on a scale. I have a friend that states that he’s fat like it’s a fact and I can’t help but flinch at the word. I see hundreds of things promoting larger body image but I just cannot get out of the mind-set that I’m ugly because I carry extra weight. I can hardly admit to myself that I am fat, and some of my friends feel comfortable talking to about being fat. While I am thankful they trust me and are comfortable enough to talk to me, I cannot shake the idea that they feel comfortable talking to me because they see me as fat. The idea that’s how I am labelled in their head hurts more than labelling it myself.  Like I literally just said I don’t see this for anyone else, whether you’re a size zero or the biggest size you could be you’ll be beautiful to me if you have a beautiful personality. My friends tell me I’m not fat, they tell me I’m pretty and try their hardest to give me pep talks and tell me how amazing they think I am. I seriously don’t know who they’re describing but I don’t think it’s me. I know that larger males have not had it easy but I also feel there is less of a stigma surrounding male’s weight and body image than there is women. For example in psychology we learned out how each of the sexes attracts them (they were all found to have a heterosexual bias so keep that in mind). Females are attracted to facial hair, and qualities that can be seen to provide and protect them and their young. This does not mean muscles, this can be anything from being funny to being artistic; something that can be seen as a way to make money to provide. I ain’t saying she a gold digger. But she is. While males are attracted to small waist, large hips, hour glass figure, clear skin, long hair, large eyes, facial symmetry and other stuff that I cannot be arsed to find  in my work because it involves moving. But you catch my drift.

I remembered something the other day that just hurt me on so many levels. When I was 11 (I mean like literally just turned 11 as it was the beginning of high school in September and my birthdays in August) we had to write a letter to ourselves in 5 years’ time (Year 11, so technically I’d be reading it at 15 but I never got it). I’m pretty sure we weren’t supposed to remember what we wrote but I do. I remember at 11 years old asking if I have a boyfriend or a date to prom and if I had lost weight. Those were the things I thought were the most important things I had on my 11 year old mind. I am now nearly 19 and I see 11 year olds as foetus’s. WHY AS A FOETUS DID I CARE ABOUT WHETHER I HAD A FUCKING BOYFRIEND OR HOW MUCH I WEIGHED? Seriously, now my main concern is whether or not I can finish a series in a day, the answer by the way is yes. Yes I can. God why did it matter so much? I am so concerned for 11 year old me. Why was it so imprinted into my brain that I needed to get a boyfriend and be skinny? I was 11 I shouldn’t have had a care in the world back then. But I was so concerned with growing up and doing everything so quickly.  I think maybe films fucked me up, In America you go to high school at an older age and leave at an older age while in the UK its 11-16. I feel that maybe in my obsession with films about high school the ages and social stages got lost in translation. But I thought that finding love was important, usually anything aimed towards tweens/teen girls is based around love. Aka, the stereotypical chick flick.

If my future child comes home at 11 and is worried about either of these things, I cannot imagine doing anything but looking at them very confused. At 18 when I say that I’m going to die alone or lose faith that they’re someone out there for me people remind me of my age, as if it’s absurd to be thinking that at my age. So how absurd is it to be thinking of that at 11. I remember feeling so underdeveloped for the entirety of high school for my lack of a love interest. I’m 18 and I still haven’t had a boyfriend, I still haven’t been kissed properly (pecks doth not count) and sometimes I feel a bit like I should have done. When you’ve watched multiple friends go in and out of functional and dysfunctional relationships for years you sort of feel a bit defective. But I’d rather go at my own pace. If it was meant to be it will be and all that bull.

[as-told-by-laura]

The Dress

So I usually just post blogs on here but I want to post some writing stuff on here too. So this is a short story I wrote called The Dress (as if you couldn’t tell by the title. 

I was trapped in a dress. I was panicking, absolutely certain that that was how I’d die. I could see my gravestone, “death by fabric”. The dresses colour was questionable but the dress itself looked drop dead gorgeous. I’m sure I’ll appreciate that irony one day. I was home alone and did not see any way out of that death trap. I wished this was the first time.

I was thirteen, shopping with my friends. Despite the fact I hated any shopping other than for books. But they’re my friends, it’s important to be a part of the crowd when you’re that age. The girls were dressed to kill while I was dressed for comfort. I was the odd one out, honestly I think the only reason they ever had me around was for contrast, that and we’d known each other too long. I didn’t wear dresses then, hell if you could get me out of a pair of jeans and trainers you would have completed a massive task. I just didn’t like them, I wasn’t like the others. I didn’t look pretty enough to dress like a girl, I hadn’t grown into myself yet. Essentially I didn’t see the point in trying when they’re what your compared too; that and my boobs and curves hadn’t come in yet so I would have looked like a square a dress or a circle in a dress depending on the angle you saw me at. The girls were dying to see what I looked like in a dress.

“It’ll be fun!” “You’ll look so pretty”

“We just want to see”

So my closest friend grabbed a dress in my size and followed me into the changing rooms. I got the silvery thing on. I walked out and they all gave me this look. I still can’t explain what that look was, underwhelmed. Like they’d watched so many transformations of the frumpy nerd girl in the movies they expected one to happen in front of their eyes. Only to find the frumpy nerd girl still looked like the frumpy nerd girl, except she was wearing a dress. I returned to the little cubical to change out. The zip got stuck. I was stuck in a dress, in public. At thirteen this was the end of the world. Not helped by my, then, best friend who stood idly by and was zero help. I finally managed to get out of it. Returned to my own clothes, and left the changing room, face burning. The look in their eyes was different, it was sympathy. Then they all did the typical whisper to each other about 5 five feet away from you and stare. I wanted the ceiling to collapse on me. I wanted the dresses zip to have sliced me open and for to have bled to death right there. What happened after that is a blur. The next thing I remember is sitting on the stairs crying at my mum and dad who’d just got home. I didn’t get any comforting words, just a hug and promise of a diet.

It’s been five years and that memory still makes me want to crawl into a hole and never come out. Hell most of the time I wish I had. We didn’t talk about what happened, well at least they didn’t talk about it with me. The only difference now is I’m not in public and this dress is red, not silver. I always thought I’d have changed by now. That I’d be different but I’m not, knowing I still don’t compare. Knowing I will still get stuck in a dress hurts, knowing if the situation were to happen now their reactions would be the same hurt. But mine doesn’t have to be.

Time to call reinforcements.

“Hello” Helen picked up eventually, my, now, best friend has a habit of not answering her phone.

“Call the fire brigade” I joked.

“What?”

“My fat butt is stuck in a dress, call the fire brigade I need cutting out of it.” I swear our laughter could be heard on the moon.

I eventually managed to pry myself out of the dress, and sent it back, red isn’t really my colour. It’s been five years, in the same unchanging town around the same unchanging people but it turns out one thing has changed. Me.

[as-told-by-laura]

Recent Realisations

I am a misogynist. This is not something I’m proud of nor is it intentional but I am. I have been conditioned to be misogynistic. I often find that I have to stop myself from telling my nephew that he sounds like a girl when he screams, because that is using being a girl as an insult. I think that telling him that he sounds like a girl will stop him because I grew up hearing girl as an insult, “you run like a girl” “you sound like a girl” “you throw like a girl” “you look like a girl” blah blah blah. I know there is not nothing shameful or insulting about being a girl, I am a girl. Despite knowing this, I am still programmed to insult using this insult, the same as calling something gay or faggotty is an insult despite the fact being homosexual is nothing insulting either. I hate that I do this and I am trying not to. I catch myself before the words come out of my mouth but it’s hard, it’s like rewiring my mind to stop myself from saying certain things. At least I’m trying.

I’m constantly losing my faith in humanity. I feel like society and the times have moved on but like 15% (I’m being optimistically low with that percentage) of the population hasn’t been informed. It’s 2015, women should have equal pay, women shouldn’t be objectified, parents need to learn that when they bring a child into the world they’re doing it with the promise that they will love them no matter what, no one should be a victim of hate crimes, the victim should not be blamed for the rape, rape shouldn’t happen full stop, black people should not be being killed for nothing. You wouldn’t think we’d have to tell people these things. You’d think it would be common sense and decency not to do these things and yet, they all still fucking happen. I just do not understand, honest to god. Do we seriously need to tell people not to kill or rape or objectify or treat people inequality? What is the world coming to?

My friend is bisexual and wears a necklace of the bi pride flag, someone at her university said she was brave for openly wearing it. Its 2015, she isn’t brave she’s proud as she should be. I recommend watching a film called Pride, it came out in 2014 and it’s brilliant. It’s so underrated and its annoying as fuck.  The film gave me goose bumps and made me so happy. It’s based off of true events and true people which just makes me so damn happy. It’s about the group L.G.S.M Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners. As in the 80’s there was this huge mining strike in Britain basically because the prime minster was a bitch (I come from a mining town and family and have a huge prejudice against Margret Thatcher) Basically this group of homosexuals raise money for a small town in wales to help allow them to live while they strike. It’s a really heart-warming film and you should definitely watch it.

I also recommend G.B.F which is a good Segway into what I now want to talk about.

At the end of the film the main character does this big speech about being seen as normal, just as themselves rather than their sexuality. This is important because I think people dehumanise homosexuals sometimes, myself included. I often find myself referring to homosexuals as “cute” and I never refer to anything as cute other than animals. I feel terrible because I am dehumanising homosexuals. My friends know I don’t mean anything malicious by it. I want to stop myself from saying things like that. But I want to know why I feel like they’re cute. Maybe it’s because they had to fight against things to be together, maybe it’s because I know there is still prejudice against them and it’s refreshing for someone to actually like them. I don’t know. But I still feel guilty. The film G.B.F refers to the fact that some girls look and want a gay best friend. This dehumanises homosexuals, makes them seem as though they’re collectables or like pets and it sucks. But girls want a gay best friend because it’s nice to be completely comfortable around someone and know it’s safe. To be around someone who isn’t going to objectify you. AKA girls would rather be around a homosexual male rather than a straight one because they don’t feel as safe around straight males and whatever they do around a homosexual male doesn’t mean anything, because they’re gay. It doesn’t matter. I hear about guys who kick off at girls because they don’t want to do something and the guy expects them to because they were nice to them. As though the girl owes them something because they told them they were pretty. . Do you not find this worrying?  

 I have zero faith in humanity and frankly am sick of human beings. If you need me I’ll be hibernating with a bunch of cats, chocolate and sweet wifi connection.

[as-told-by-laura]

Liar Liar Pants on Fire

Would you go to the doctors and tell them your arms broken if it wasn’t? No. So why the fuck do some people think it’s okay to fake a mental illness? Do not come crying to me faking a panic attack because I know what it looks like, I had to sit idly by while my best friend had one because there was nothing I could do. I do not have time for that bullshit. I watch(ed) my best friend suffer from PTSD and anxiety and depression and OCD so I know that you’re lying. We don’t talk about it. Not unless she brings up the conversation and when she does I can guarantee she isn’t going to be obvious and very open about it. Because it’s not nice. You know what else isn’t nice? Faking it, believe me research is nothing compared to the real thing. Most people with depression suffer in silence, they don’t flash their ‘cuts’ around like they’re new top they’ve just bought. They cover them. They don’t talk about it 24/7 and when they do they know their shit because they’re feeling it not because they googled it.  From personal experience, people don’t roll up their sleeves in a dramatically obvious way. They don’t flash their wrists. They layer up, they cover it up in any way they can. They also don’t blame being a little bitch on ‘feeling depressed’. They pretend it’s not happening and to reiterate the point THEY DON’T FUCKING TALK ABOUT IT, unless they want help in which case their very sensitive about it.  

Story time. A few years ago a friend and I were sat on my kitchen floor just talking. She always wore a sweat band over her wrists. This specific time, the band had moved slightly revealing cuts on her wrists. I didn’t say anything. I simply moved the band back down to cover the cuts. This let her know I’d seen them, but because I didn’t ask it let her know I wasn’t going to push the matter, I was going to wait until she was ready to talk about it.

A few key points from the story: she didn’t talk about it

I didn’t ask

The cuts were covered

I respected her privacy

It took quite a bit of time after this for her to actually tell me things

According to her the way I reacted was the best way to react ever.

 Moral?

To those pretending to have a mental illness for attention stop being a bellend. To those who have mental illnesses, you are my heroes, you’re stronger than words can say and I am proud of. I am here for anyone that needs to talk. 

[as-told-by-laura]

Ranty Rant Rant

This is going to be really ranty and filled with my opinion. If you’re going to have an issue then stop reading.

Right, you know what really does my head in? The fact I have to pay for bras. I didn’t ask for this fatty milk sacks hanging from my body, so why the hell should I have to pay for an uncomfortable contraption that appears to be the only thing stopping me from hitting myself in the chin with them when I run upstairs.  I can’t not wear one, I’m too scared of giving myself a black eye (a bit of an exaggeration but ya know). I can’t not wear one because if I did there would be a number of issues.

Sagging. Fuck you gravity

They literally have minds of their own, without a bra they might go anywhere.

Would society really be okay with that?

The dreaded nip on. Bra’s cover the fact that when it’s cold you could hang your coat of my nips.

Do you see my issue? Don’t even get me started on sanitary towels and tampons.  Like no. I didn’t ask for my uterus to shed its lining and make me bleed. I can’t free bleed cause it’s kinda gross (each to their own) and I cannot keep scrubbing blood from my fucking pants. Ugh. If men had tits or periods you can guarantee all this shit would be free or they’d have found a better treatment for the pain than a hot water bottle and pain killers that don’t even really work all that much. I AM BLEEDING OUT OF MY BODY AND IN A LOT OF PAIN THE LEAST YOU COULD DO IS GIVE ME SOMETHING TO SOAK UP THE MOTHER FUCKING BLOOD FOR FREE. Money grabbing sods.

Pockets. This may seem petty in comparison but girls will feel pain. I can’t fit anything in my pockets. My phone sticks out and god forbid I can fit a pack of tissues in there (for when I inevitably need them in a public toilet because there isn’t any. Like ever). I see my older brother walking around with pockets the size of swimming pools and I’m here with these tiny mouse pockets that can’t fit jack shit and then some of them aren’t even fucking real. What the fuck is that shit?  It’s like that pointless fake drawer or cupboard you used to get in your house, it has no use so why the fuck did you make them anyway! I demand pocket equality. I will not rest until the day I can actually fit shit into my pockets. This is why handbag companies make so fucking much, we have no choice but to buy them so we can actually carry stuff. Speaking of handbags. What the hell is the deal with clutch bags? Don’t they defeat the actual point of a handbag? So you don’t have to carry anything. So many things I do not understand.

Also I keep seeing shit about not needing feminism or there being a negative social stigma to the word. I identify myself as feminist as do many of my friends. This isn’t because we hate men or want women to rule the world or because we’re lesbians (although some are but these two things are not related) or because we like to complain about everything (I do love a good rant but that’s just me). We’re feminists because we want gender equality for ALL genders (as well as those who do not identify with a gender) including men. We just want some fucking equality. We want to be able to walk on a dark street and feel safe. We want to be able to say no without feeling like shit because we have the fucking right and social standards for that to be okay in everyone’s eyes. We just want some fucking change, some fucking proof that we’ve actually moved on as a society because frankly I haven’t seen anything to prove it so far. Every time I read one story and my faith in humanity is restored something goes and destroys it again. Whether it’s yet another rapist getting away with it (male or female) , someone blaming a rape victim or asking what their wearing or laughing at them (male or female) , a domestic violence case (men and women), a story of a suicide from bullying because they weren’t accepted or another black person being shot for doing fuck all. You can prove to me we’ve moved on when it’s safe for everyone equality. When there is not white privilege that I too am guilty of but I can’t help the colour of my skin, as you can’t help yours. If I ever say the words “I don’t see colour/ gender/sexuality” I’m not intending to be ignorant. I just mean I won’t judge you. I won’t treat you any differently because you’re black or male or transgender or agender or any other gender, I won’t judge you no matter what your sexuality. Because that shit doesn’t define you in my eyes, your personality does. Believe me if you’re a bellend then you’re a bellend whether you’re black or white, Identify as male or female or neither or both, whether you’re a heterosexual or a homosexual or any other sexuality you wanna be. None of that comes into play, if you’re nice then you’re nice because YOU are nice. My friends accept me for being a straight female and I accept them and anyone else for being what they are. You do you. I’ll do me.

Something else that’s becoming an issue in the New Year is the wave of New Year’s resolutions. “New Year new me” which is what they said last year and you know what? It was bullshit then too. I cannot be bothered lying to myself so early on in the year. I want to try and that’s a promise I made to myself at a random point in December to actually fucking try. I also made a promise to put myself first, which is easier said than done. But I started because I realised something. The only way I’m getting a thigh gap is if I cut one of my legs off. I have big boobs which most of the time is more of a negative than a positive but I like them, they’re fun to pick up and drop to see how long they jiggle for (10/10 recommend). I have a fat arse which doesn’t give me much padding when I fall which I do often but it’s there, it’s hard to shove into a pair of jeans and when you add on my big hips it means I take up a little bit more room than others. And when you add the big boobs into the equation you may realise I struggle to fit through most gaps, I have to make a decision on which part of my body will hit a stranger, I tend to choose boobs and I dunno why. Maybe it’s cause I know what comes out of my arse and believe you me it aint pretty. Back to my point. Broad shoulders, smaller waist, big hips/tits/arse. I probably couldn’t fit my tit into a size 8. But fuck it, food tastes good. I don’t eat unhealthily and I find it hard to find time to exercise but I am trying. That’s more than anyone can ask. We need to be happy with our sizes no matter what size you are. Just own it. I’m fat. I will lose weight but when I do it will be on my terms because I want to and if I don’t and you have an issue with it then fine. I’ll give you a real quick solution. Fuck off. 

[as-told-by-laura]

Growing up?

Once again I am procrastinating doing actual work for University because I just cannot be bothered to think. Its twenty to five and the suns basically gone, there’s only a slight orange glow behind the houses. I haven’t moved from my bed all day nor have I gotten dressed, I have uni again tomorrow and so work is necessary I just cannot be bothered to do it. I usually send my blogs to my friends but I don’t think I will this one. Some may come across it but I don’t really feel like sharing my feelings with them today because even when I do it doesn’t change anything.

I was telling one of my (technically new as it’s only been a year but we’re basically sisters) best friends about this one song that can make me feel infinite. This is probably due to it being classically conditioned with alcohol in my brain but either way when I hear it I feel never ending. You see I have… had a reasonable large friendship group, we spent a fair bit of time around each other and whenever the occasion called for it we had parties. Usually a camp out or a house party and this one band would always get played. Oasis. We’ve drunkenly danced and sung/shouted along to their songs for about a year, at basically everybody’s party. I remember having a drunken moment of clarity, you know like when the room slows down in the movies and the camera zooms in on each of the happy faces. I had one of those moments and it made me feel like we’d never not be doing this, like we’d always have each other, like this would never end. I saw the happy faces of my friends and for the first time in a long time I actually felt something other than sadness or anger or contentment. I wasn’t just content I was happy, we were all happy. The last group party was in the beginning of September, my friends leaving camp out and we cried and drank and sang and danced then cried some more. At the time it felt silly to cry, because we were invincible right? We weren’t going to break. When our parents told us that we’d find out who our true friends were when we left for uni we would find that we are true friends. We were naïve to think that this ‘friendship’ was built to last. Because it hasn’t. I haven’t spoken to like 80-90% of the friendship group since that night. So what the fuck was that feeling of infinity? And why does that damn song remind me of that feeling? Why do I get to remember and not live, why do I get to miss them? If this is growing up then growing up sucks and if it doesn’t get better I will be furious.

If growing up is watching helplessly as your best friend replaces you. If it’s watching as everyone else gets into happy relationships or goes through awful break ups without you then I don’t want to grow up. Because this isn’t a good feeling. I think it hurts more because I can see it, I’m literally watching my friend replace me and telling her doesn’t help. Is it because she understands what it feels like to be in love? Because I can’t help that I don’t. Is it because she’s a lesbian too? Because I can’t help my sexuality. Is it because she actually sees her? Because I can’t help being at uni. Or is because she’s more compassionate than me? Because I can’t help being dead inside. But no one is friends with me because they think I’m a warm hearted human being. They’re friends with me (I assume) because I’m loyal, I give reasonably good advice and I am not afraid to be honest. Not because I will tell them that something’s going to be okay when it won’t. Not because I’ll tell them to forgive their girlfriend/boyfriend when they cheat. Because that is some bullshit, they can scream from the rooftops that they love their cheating other half but the fact is if someone loves you then they don’t cheat. Even if it’s a momentarily lapse of judgement or their drunk or their unhappy, that isn’t love. I want to be there for her, I want to help but how can I when someone cuts me out. I don’t want to cut out and left behind when all I want to do is help, that isn’t fair, I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t cheat, I didn’t walk away.

Do you think it’s possible to still have friends while being in a relationship? Because I know of about two people in my life who can. They fuck off and insert themselves into their girlfriend/boyfriend’s anus and then when it all goes wrong come crawling back. And you know what? I’m always here because I quite clearly have mug tattooed on my forehead. It’s like I’m genetically programmed to be there for other people even when they don’t deserve it. Like I’m glued to the spot and I just can’t walk away from someone even though I really really fucking want to. Don’t get me wrong I don’t cling, Jesus I’m the least clingy person on the planet (shout out to future boyfriend who will either love this or hate it) but I just cannot walk away from people. It’s such bullshit. I think I put on this persona of being this impenetrable force that has to be reckoned with when in reality I’m just a very pissed off human being who’s actually super caring and nice once you break through the insults and sarcasm. Ugh. Anyway I’m done ranting. I hope whoever’s reading this is well and happy. 

[as-told-by-laura]

I don't know how

I’m supposed to be doing a journalism piece for Uni but I feel like blogging so yay for procrastination.

Something I’ve heard a lot in my 18 years is that before someone can love me I have to love myself first. This is obviously easier said than done. Many people before me have managed this and many people after me will too. But I don’t know how. I cannot convince my brain to love me. I was watching My Mad Fat Diary and during a therapy session he tells Rae to imagine herself at the age she begun hating herself and call her all the things she thinks about herself. She couldn’t. And I thought this was ground-breaking. I thought that maybe I’d found my answer. But I hadn’t. Watching that scene made me cry my eyes out. I tried it. I couldn’t disassociate myself with the mental image of my thirteen year old self.  She was fat because I am, she is pathetic because I am. But I would never say this to a real child, because I’m not a twat, which was the point Kester was making. Yet I could tell the mental image of me she was fat and pathetic and she’ll be alone? How is that fair. I don’t know how to love myself. So how can I expect someone else too? That would be unfair. I wouldn’t chose me over someone else so why should anyone else? My friend tried to tell me I was worth something, that I didn’t have to take myself out of the battle because I could win. But all I see is other peoples shining traits and my own flaws. So why would I try to talk to that guy? When he would clearly be better off with someone else, someone skinnier and prettier and less of a sarcastic smart arse weirdo. Why would he pick me when he can have someone else? Why would anybody? So why bother trying? Only to get hurt in the end, only to watch them be happy with someone else. Then you’re friends tell you that you just haven’t found the right person yet. That there is someone out there for you. And you take little comfort but don’t call them on their bullshit. There is too much death and destruction in this god damn world for there to be ‘someone for everyone’ there is too many extraneous variables to make that statement. And even if I do find someone who choses me, it won’t fix me, I’ll still hate myself and wonder why they chose me. Wonder when they’ll wake up and realise they can do a whole lot better than me.  I don’t know how to love myself. I don’t know how to actually try to get somewhere with someone because I’m too busy seeing all the other people they should be with. I don’t know how to not compare myself to other girls. It’s innate. We’re raised in a society full of competition between women. Where we compare sizes, height and looks. And lots of us come up short. But that doesn’t mean they aren’t beautiful. It just means they don’t look like that girl or the women in the magazine.

I don’t know how to not panic in social situations. I don’t know how to be carefree and just have fun. I don’t know how to let go of all my hang ups and just have fun. So I must be such a shitty person to be friends with. I’m sorry to all friends reading this. I can’t be brave and strong like you. I don’t know how. I don’t know how to just make friends and go out and live. I don’t know how to be myself around new people or be comfortable in crowded social environment. I don’t know how to not over think, I don’t even think I have the capability to not over think. I don’t know how to be like you. I know I need to be brave and try new thinks even though I’m inevitably going to hate it. I know I need to try to get out of my comfort zone and live a little. I know I need to stop comparing myself to other girls including you. I know I need to not feel depressed as shit when not one human notices my existence because they’re too busy looking at you.  I know I need to stop trying to take up less room. To sit up properly rather than slouching in an unconscious attempt to disappear and avoid conversations with strangers (even if it works). I know I need to take up as much space on this planet as I fucking feel like because no one else has the decency to move out of the way despite seeing me. I need to stop being invisible and have a go at being seen, even if I hate it.

To anyone who is in love with me (laughs for eternity), to anyone who loves me or will be in love with me. I’m sorry your words don’t help. I’m sorry I don’t know how to love myself. But I’m trying.

[as-told-by-laura]

Recent Developments

So I started University; that happened. I’m eighteen, so now technically an adult. Not that it feels like it. Anyway the point is I’ve changed. I don’t know if this was an overnight situation or what but I’m different, or at least on the surface I am. Underneath I’m pretty much the same. But this is becoming an issue. I identify myself as socially awkward, I struggle with public speaking, talking to strangers and I have a real probably picking up on social norms. I can read people so I understand most social queues but I still have issues with some. For instance the train was crowded and so I had to sit next to someone, I then panicked into my John Green book about whether I had to move when the train became less crowded.  I shed 10 years off my life in the half an hour it took for him to get to his stop. I chose not to move… he was cute and had a marvel bag and was READING. I still don’t know if I should have moved, and no make sure I’m one of the first on the train to get the window seat so I’m never in that situation again.

The issue with my changing on the surface is when I explain I’m socially awkward people no longer believe me.  These people are new, the people I’m normally around I've known for at least a year or occasionally eighteen due to the small size of my town. Which is also becoming an issue but I’ll discuss that at the end if I remember. I've begun talking too much. I'm talking total verbal diarrhea, I literally can’t stop talking. Anyone who knows me they know I'm pretty shitty at explaining things out loud. Give me a pen and paper and five minutes and I can write you a huge paragraph with metaphors and similes explaining myself clearly but verbally. I trip over everything and stutter, forget words and struggle. Combine this with the broken tap that is currently my mouth and you get a pretty big mess. Go me.  And because I can’t fucking shut up no one sees me as socially awkward. They don’t see my occasional external internal monologue. They don’t see that I'm mentally screaming at myself to shut the fuck up, they don’t see me mentally ripping myself apart as my mouth continues talking bullshit at the speed of light. Then there’s the sudden ability to join in on discussions and speak in front of my fellow students. Yeah but they don’t see my heart pounding so hard I’m 99% it will give in soon and I’ll just die. They don’t see the shaking hands or the internal voice crying at me to not fuck up so I can’t mentally destroy myself later on. Too them I must look confident and calm, I tell them when I’m nervous or freaking out and they’re all really reassuring. But I can’t help but wonder if they’d of met me a few years or even months before would I then be able to identify myself as socially awkward like always. I mean I can now ask for train tickets and bus tickets without my heart beating like an insane drum solo. But I have to organise myself to the T, the bus times to the minute, train times there and back, how much it will cost, how I’ll pay for it, when I’ll show my student railcard. All this is mentally mapped out before I’ve even rolled myself out of my bed which believe me is becoming a struggle. So I haven’t changed well, I’ve just somehow managed to bullshit my way into not seeming socially awkward. But people say “fake it until you make it” so I could possibly convince myself I’m not socially awkward, but I think too much for that shit.

  I realise I haven’t changed a lot when I run into people I knew and disliked in High School, one of the negatives of living in a tiny town. I didn’t want to see them when I knew they’d be there for 5 years of high school. I most certainly didn’t want to see them for two years afterwards in college but I definitely don’t want to fucking see them on my train or outside the train or in a shop I’m in. I HAVEN’T STOPPED BEING A POTATO YET. YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO WAIT UNTIL I DON’T LOOK UGLY AND THEN BE LIKE HOT DAMN WHO THE F IS THAT HOT BITCH AND I’M ALL ITS ME, YOU KNOW THAT GIRL YOU THOUGHT WAS UGLY AND WEIRD IN HIGH SCHOOL AND FORGOT ABOUT BECAUSE SHE WAS INVISIBLE. LOOK AT ME I GOT HOT. But no. I am 0.2% less of a potato and that is not enough to be satisfying. I suck in the pudge as much as possible, pull my shoulders back, stand up straight and stroll passed them while pretending to be nonchalant and praying they don’t talk to me. They don’t, thank god. Occasionally I will just move my hair over the sides of my face and hunch over when I walk so they really just don’t see me at all, a technique I’ve found successful over the years in achieving maximum invisibility.  Proving to myself I’m still that pathetic girl in high school somewhere inside of my head. If I met me in high school I would punch her square in the jaw, take away whatever shitty food she was eating, tell her to remove her head from her arse, tell her to exercise and eat less. I would obviously then give her some profound advice that I cannot currently think of, something along the lines of dunt. Then sashay away. I should sashay more. Sashaying is fabulous. Its fun to say isn't it sashay. Sashay. Say it with me. Sashay. No longer looks like a word. 

Oh yeah speaking of fabulous, my friend Fern is fabulous (I promised I’d mention it so I am. Hi fern) 

[as-told-by-laura]

Me.

Lucky you, getting another blog this quickly; you aren’t forced to read this one. I don’t imagine it’ll be very interesting. More of a confession and self analysis, getting stuff off my chest I suppose.

Despite what you may now think from reading the beginning no, I haven’t killed someone; though I have contemplated it many times. I just feel like I always analyse myself in my head and never do anything with them, so they literally just float around my head like debris.  So I’m going to write them down.  Despite what you may think after reading my many long blogs (if you have) I have a real issue with communicating my feelings. I will have heart to hearts with people when we’re close and that’s about as open as I get. My best friends know me better than anyone but they don’t know everything that goes on in here *taps head*. I have issues being the first to say sorry in arguments, unless I truly feel it was my fault... even then I will literally only do it if the guilt eats me alive, as it often does. An example of this is when one of my close friends had an argument which ended badly (and by badly I mean I was going out so I quickly drank a large bottle of wine and got drunk...not proud. I was drinking anyway but I quickened the pace) I knew he wouldn’t talk to me first and the fact we weren’t talking was nagging at my every thought.  But it was once again up to him to talk first because despite literally feeling sick because of it all I didn’t express my emotions and apologise like I should have done. I guess I’m not wired up that way. Another example is from the other day, one of my best friends has moved 130-120 miles south to go to university and I feared we would lose contact due to something that shall not be mentioned. After days of ignored messages, I gave in because I figured if she wanted me she knew where I was because even if she had cut me off I’d still be there, like the idiot I am. My other friends were telling me to just tell her how it was making me feel but I couldn’t. It was almost like I couldn’t show weakness to her, to let her know she was hurting me. I eventually bit the bullet and it all turned out to be a glitch on her end of messages. But it could have been sorted sooner if I hadn’t have been so god damn stubborn but I can’t turn it off. It’s like I can’t show vulnerability, I can’t show that I’m hurting and I don’t know why. It doesn’t help anyone, I have a lot of emotions and believe me I have the words to express them but it’s like they get clogged in my throat or are trapped in my brain.

I think it’s because I think it won’t matter, that even if I do say how I feel or that someone I love has hurt me it won’t change anything and that’s a very sad fact of my life. Most of the time my words will fall upon deaf ears or hit the floor like lead balloons they’re piled up so high I suffocate on my own words.  Some listen and sometimes things change but for the most they don’t or at least they didn’t, I wouldn’t know now because I don’t even try. I do tell other people how I’ve been upset by someone but never the person that’s upset me. I don’t want to seem pathetic. But expressing emotion isn’t pathetic and I know that and frankly I spend most of my life being an agony aunt or mum to my friends so I know it isn’t a bad thing but I just can’t seem to do it. I don’t know maybe I’m too English, I just smile politely and pretend it doesn’t feel like I’ve been stabbed in the chest. Sometimes I think I'm "about as open as a nuns foo" to quote Kester from My Mad Fat Diary but then you can read me like a book because my face displays all emotions, like words on pages. Only they're all in fine print, you just need to look a little closer 

Being inside of my brain is like being in a constant battle, how I ever make a decision amazes me. How my brain hasn’t split in two also amazes me.  Maybe I’m two different people or maybe I’m just weird I don’t know but its like one half of my brain thinks one way and the other thinks the opposite.  One side wants to settle down and start a family, the other half tells me I don’t need anyone and I’d be better off alone. One side wants me to be out going and adventurous and socialise, the other half can tell me 50 different ways I will get arrested or injured or die. Those are just two examples. Its literally like inner turmoil every time I make a decision. I’m pretty sure some people will think I’m impulsive but I’m not, its just if I don’t do the thing immediately I will talk myself out of it, and then back in and then out and in then in... You get the point. Usually it ends with me not doing the thing and missing out.  Oh and then there’s the constant over thinking and over analysing everything including everything I do. That’s fun, tonnes of fun. It’s like my thoughts won’t shut the hell up, seriously. If I know something will be occurring soon you can guarantee I’ve thought of about 100 odd scenarios (mainly negative because on top of all this I’m a pessimist) which will never end up happening all in the hopes I am prepared which I never am. I wish I could turn my brain off, I haven’t figured out a way to do that yet. I have a constant running consciousness and it isn’t my best friend.

I am also 99% sure I’m messed up in the head because of my past choices. If you know me and you inform me that you have mentioned me to someone else. I will need a two thousand word essay on everything you said, how you said it and what the person replied and how they replied. I wouldn’t call myself a vain or self absorbed person... but maybe I am. I hope I’m not, If I am I need to stop immediately. I don’t know why I obsess over the idea someone has talked about me or what others think of me. Maybe it’s just nice to be thought of, maybe I’ve spent my life focusing on others I need an outlet to talk about me. Because I sort of like talking about me but I also hate it because I worry the person I’m talking won’t open up because I’m talking too much or maybe I’m bored of being invisible.. And we’re back to the inner arguments.  I don’t want to do it anymore but sadly I am human, the most selfish creature ever to roam the earth. The funny thing is this is the first time I’ve mentioned it, like it’s something shameful.

I know I’ve mentioned it like 50 thousand times before but I’m sure I just need to get welcome tattooed on my forehead. I often find myself at odds, I have lots of people to talk to about things in the sea of people that come to me for problems and I trust quite a few. I have the issue that if it’s my closest friends that are bothering  me I have no one to turn too because I can’t complain about them to them... well I could but they probably wouldn’t be pleased. We’re like sisters and sometimes we get on each other booby ends and I need someone to vent too but I often don’t release it, not because I don’t have anyone to go to but more I feel isolated when I can’t talk to them, when I can’t tell them I feel a bit lonely. It sucks when they all have lives of their own and are sorting their lives out and I’m sort of potatoing around, wishing I could get my life together but having no motivation to move.  I feel like I would drop everything for them and come running at the drop of a hat and I know very few would do that for me, because people can’t do that, they have lives and stuff to do and I just don’t and its pretty fucking sad really. I don’t know, I was feeling pretty shitty and even my 80’s playlist isn’t helping. Maybe its hormones cause I was angry for no reason the other day and now I’m sad for no reason and my whininess is beginning to annoy me and I don’t really want to use this blog as a diary but I suppose that’s what it mostly is, the inner workings of my mind. I’m going to go crawl into bed and read or something. 

[as-told-by-laura]

Just thoughts.

I’m currently very angry for no reason so this may contain swearing and go off on many tangents.

I don’t understand why we have to pick our future careers at like 16 and even then we’re asked as children what we want to be when we grow up. I don’t fucking know. I probably wanted to be a mermaid princess or a pirate and then a vet or a teacher or doctor and now I want to be a writer. I also sort of want to be a mermaid princess pirate but that isn’t important.  For most of my life I wanted to work with animals because I love them and two years ago I made the decision to take 4 different A levels rather than one btec  which would allow me to only be able to work with animals. You know why? To keep my options open and I’m glad I did, now I want to write for living whether that’s poems or books or in journalism as long as words are spewing out of  my mouth or fingers I don’t care. This just shows that as humans we are fickle things, we will change our minds and sometimes we won’t be able to make our minds up. You cannot expect a 16 year old to know what they want to do when they finally get out of education. They don’t know if they’ll still be happy with their decision when their thirty, people change; it’s a way of life. We’re all meant to change and grow. Shit happens; okay I could die tonight (touch wood cause that would suck) and that means that rather than living my life I spent 18 years at school and college getting an education only to die before I can use it. I’d die with a thousand regrets and a hell of a lot of good memories but I still would not have done what I want to do with my life. My life goal would be unfulfilled and so I would probably be a ghost, which would probably be pretty cool. Look the point is, you only get one life and frankly the way we are meant to live it is dictated to us from day 1. Go to school, get good grades get a job, find a mate have babies and die. It’s the 21st century and I would very much like some new rules. Yeah we can change our minds at thirty but what if it’s too late by then to bother attempting to change what we do? I could have multiple kids to support, I wouldn’t be able to afford to go back and change what I did at this age. Do they get that? You can’t expect a kid to choose what they as an adult will want to do. People change and evolve just as society supposedly has. I don’t know what I want to do tomorrow let alone what the future holds.

My friend and I were talking the other day about love.  How most adults we know found each other at the age we are now and even younger. I have friends that are living with their other half and it freaks me out. If I’d actually been in a real relationship I could probably admit to having an issue with commitment. It scares me. Like what if they stop loving you? Or cheat on you or leave you? What do you do? You built a life with them and suddenly their gone, what if they die? Oh god no. Stopping now, not going down that road. Look the point is I can barely keep my socks together let alone manage a relationship that will last the rest of my life. She said she read somewhere that you’re more likely to end up with someone you knew when you were young if you re-find each other. I have to say I hope I am not one of those people because I really don’t want to end up with any of the guys I know now, because their like family... or gay. I feel myself wanting one of those epic romances you read in fiction but I get the feeling the only ones that will occur in my life will the ones I see on tv or  films or in books or write myself. I never really believed I was worthy of love anyway so it’s kind of fitting that I haven’t found it yet, I think I’d need to think more of myself first because otherwise it gives them permission to think and treat me the way I do and they don’t get to do that.  Just because I’m not a huge fan of who I am does not give anyone else the right to stick me at the back of a shelf or validate any of the things I think about myself. I don’t have to like myself to have enough self worth to know that I don’t deserve being treated like shit.

You know what really annoys me about me? Nothing spectacularly (spelt that right first try go me) bad has ever happened to me, I feel like I don’t have the right to hate myself. I feel like I have no reason to want to hurt myself or end it all because I come from a big loving family and no one ever really hurt me. But sometimes you just do, and I know that. My parents didn’t have to beat me for me to hate me nor did anyone have to physically or emotionally damage me. I just don’t particularly like who I am. But I wouldn’t change all of me because in doing that my friends and family would suffer because its parts of me I hate that they love and cherish about me. Like the fact I’m always there, literally if you need me I’m there and if I can’t be then my god do I feel guilty and you can tell me it doesn’t matter or I couldn’t help it all you want but the guilt will still be there.  You may be thinking that this is a wonderful trait to have, that it’s very kind and selfless. But I feel like I can’t be selfish. I don’t like burdening my friends with my issues and sometimes I feel if I do they go unheard anyway. Its all well and good being there for someone but it sucks being a fucking doormat.  I constantly compare myself to other people around me, and let me tell you I wish I could turn it off because it sucks. But you know what the salt in the fucking wound is? I feel like their some validation in my thoughts because I’m invisible to most human males. I have a lot of male friends because I’m good at being ‘one of the lads’ but let me tell you I was born with a vagina and I grew reasonably sized boobs because I’M A GIRL. I like being one of the lads but for goodness sake do you think someone would notice I can be just as funny as that girl and just as smart as that other one and I can occasionally be just as girly and innocent as that one too. I just don’t look like them. I’m not skinny or pretty or girly and innocent enough to be noticed. Not good enough to be the object of anyone’s affections because I’m not like those other girls.  Something once happened, I don’t remember what but this is the gist. Male friend to one of my petite female friends: I’ll protect you. Me:  what about me? Male friend: when have you ever needed protecting?  I needed protecting against my own thoughts, obviously he didn’t know that but still. He was choosing to protect the ones he viewed as vulnerable, the ones that he thought would need it and yeah he was probably right. I can throw a punch when necessary and I won’t let anyone be a dick to me or my friends and in  a fight or situation I’d rather he protected them and not me but what if I needed it? Would he just assume I could handle it and leave? Would he even attempt to help? Would any of them? I know one or two would but I don’t know about the rest. Perhaps I’ve played strong for too long and people just assume I’m all good on my own when I’m not. I don’t want to be drowning in the deep end for someone who wouldn’t even bat an eyelid at me needing help.

I am now calm, sorry for sounding whiney as hell but maybe that’s who I am. I don’t know anymore.  I just remembered something that isn't important but I'd like to go back to the days when I used to say cross instead of angry because it is such a gentler term. Anyway bye

[as-told-by-laura]

Ignorance

It has slowly been occurring to me that society hasn’t come as far along as say or we think. Which scare me enough because I consider myself to have changed an awful lot and the idea I haven’t petrifies me? I may have to see a girl I used to be friends with this weekend after two years of not seeing her. She’ll be nice to my face and awful behind my back, I don’t want her to make me feel like I did when she knew me. I don’t want to feel like I’m 11-15 again. I want to feel like I do now, I don’t want to be reminded of who I was and how I felt then because I have moved on and grown past all that, I don’t want to back track. I don’t want to be that person again and the idea one person may have the power to make everything collapse around me and make me feel like that pathetic vulnerable kid again petrifies me. so I hope for my sakes I am not like society,  I hope I am not kidding myself in believing I’ve learnt from my mistakes and have become a better person because of them.

Equality is still a dream to most people on this planet, whether it’s your sexual orientation, ethnicity or your sex (or a lack of) there is no equality. There is literally always someone who will be treated better than you. Most are ignorant to physical acts of inequality, whether it’s because we just don’t see it/read it or listen or because the media only tells you what they think you want to hear. We really haven’t come far along at all and we really haven’t learned from past mistakes. I’ve seen history repeat itself so much lately, I live in the UK so either we’re protected from it all or it isn’t as bad here but goodness me the amount of appalling things I see happening all over the world scares the hell out of me.  I don’t see it on the news or in the papers, whether that’s literally due to me not reading or watching it but even then someone would have informed me by now. There’s a little section of facebook telling you the latest news and what’s trending, and that has not informed me of anything. I’m finding titbits out on tumblr of riots and war, and despite being nowhere near it all it scares me.  I am 99.9% sure that what’s happening in America won’t spread to near me but that doesn’t mean I should turn a blind eye, but my goodness would it be easier to just do that. But I can’t, I am literally appalled to be a human being. I am frankly appalled to be the same ethnicity of the people being horrific human beings. But I may be the same ethnicity but I do not agree with the generalisation of all white people. I understand why it’s done because the amount of females that will say all men or males that will say all females when it isn’t, it may be a majority or a minority but it isn’t everyone. It will not ever be everyone. There are still decent human beings out there somewhere and if not then we just have to pray to any god you wish that aliens are more decent than us.

I just don’t understand how its 2014 and yet there still isn’t equality, there’s still Nazism or KKK like we just haven’t learned from mistakes of the past. I never understood as a child why they taught us about such dreadful awful things, I’d imagine most people would want to brush it under the rug and pretend it never happened, especially when you consider British people are the most uncommunicative about things such as that. But it’s in curriculum; I was told it was so it didn’t happen again, so we could learn from mistakes. HOW IS THAT WORKING OUT FOR YOU? I am literally just sitting and waiting for the next holocaust at this rate. It’s ridiculous that anybody things they can measure a person’s self worth from size, ethnicity, gender, sexuality or anything else we’ve been brought up to label. I am much more than an 18 year old white British female, or at least I hope I am, I don’t want to be just that. I want to be kind and generous, smart and funny, a good person and I hope I am the type of person who would stop something that was wrong rather than just walk away and be ignorant. I would hope I’m the kind of person who could make a change.  I don’t know if anyone reading this can relate but I have this thing, I don’t see a person’s face, it literally takes weeks for me to notice a change in hair or clothes or anything facial and often it takes someone pointing it out. I look at people’s eyes, sometimes I remember the eye colour and sometimes I don’t but I literally don’t see the person’s ethnicity, gender or sexuality. A lot of my male friends have what I call ‘honorary vaginas’ because I literally forget their male, I forget when someone straight or not straight because that isn’t who they are to me. They’re just them; I don’t see anything but their eyes and who they are plastered all over their bodies and faces. I won’t treat one friend differently to another and I won’t say anything behind their back that I wouldn’t say to their face. They are just human beings to me; all have the same self worth and they are treated with the same decency I would show a stranger on the street.

People and animals and nature deserve to be treated with the same decency you yourself would wish to be treated with. Would you like it if people treated you differently because you were straight or a man or of a different ethnicity just because someone somewhere decided that it was lesser than something else? Because that is literally the logic, some dead guy decided that people who were white males had more self worth than other people. Some dead guy decided that because of this everyone else should be treated like they aren’t human beings. Some dead guy decided that a man loving a man or a woman loving a woman was ungodly and wrong.  Some dead guy interpreted a religious book one way and decided that’s how another dead guy wanted the world to be ran, this is valid for all religious groups. So I have a suggestion, too any one actually cares. How about we stop listening to some dead guy and start listening to the cries of starving dying humans and animals? How about we stop listening to some dead guy and start treating everyone with the same respect and actually acting like people are worth more than their labels? How about we stop listening to some fucking dead guy and make this world a nicer place to live in for EVERYBODY AND EVERYTHING?

Allow me to go on a tangent. I want to a be writer, no one has ever really asked me why but I’m going to answer it anyway. I want to help someone. I want to give people a place to escape to with believable characters that you could be, be friends with or see on the street. I want to create worlds with different ideals to the one we live on, so it gives at least one person hope that tomorrow will be different, that someone out there in this big planet give a fuck, that someone sees a better place, that someone actually agrees with them and sees how the world could be if we all stopped being idiots. I don’t care if I get published and my book gathers dust on  a shelf as long as at least one person reads and changes the way they thing or it validates their unspoken thoughts because maybe that one person could be the one person to change the world. Who the hell knows, it probably won’t be me and it might not even be you but I think that one day someone, someone will change the world for the better.

[as-told-by-laura]

The Inner Workings of my mind

Maybe one day I’ll stop blaming everything on society. Today is not that day.

You know what really gets me? That I’m going to be 18 in 8 days. The day we happen to get our A level results but that isn’t the point. I am not even 18 yet but I still feel inadequate and rejected because males don’t notice me. I am literally not the type of girl guys fall for. I am a friend not a girlfriend and yeah some lads have liked me. You know why? Cause I’m nice.  Such deep. Much feels. Newsflash. I’m a bitch, I am an opinionated, sarcastic, pessimistic bitch. If I think it then chances are I’ll say it because I have no filter and frankly I haven’t got the energy to care. I shouldn’t care that I’m single at this age. But all I get is “you’ll find someone” and blah blah blah which is lovely to have supportive friends but surely if was someone people fell for someone would have by now. Urgh.  I don’t want to feel like this. I don’t even know why I do. Well I do. I was fed Disney and fairytales as previously mentioned. They ended with them getting the guy and the guy saving the day. My friends once asked me who my favourite Disney princess was and I said Mulan. They laughed. But even Mulan had to change to get what she wanted. She had to be a man because of the male world she was living in.  I never interpreted that as I needed to change myself to get what I wanted because everything else was telling me I shouldn’t change for someone. I’m not your stereotypical girl. I have broad shoulders and could probably handle myself in a fight, so I don’t need anyone to protect me physically. I’d rather eat a huge steak than a salad and watch rugby or an action film then a chick flick. I will share my opinions openly so I don’t need someone to speak for me. I have been raised to be independent, I literally don’t need anyone else and I haven’t planned anyone else into my life but I still want them there. Cause what’s the point if you’re all alone?  BUT WHY DO I THINK I NEED SOMEONE! IF I ACCOMPLISH SOMETHING ON MY OWN IT DOESN’T LESSEN MY ACCOMPLISHMENT DOES IT? NO. SO WHY FOR THE LOVE IN THIS ENTIRE WORLD DO I THINK I NEED TO NOT BE ALONE? WHY DO I THINK I NEED TO FIND LOVE TO BE COMPLETE?  

I don’t want to need someone. I am awesome. I always smell like vanilla. And currently my hair smells like apples. So if my Mr Darcy wants to find me I’ll be at the pub with my mates not giving a fuck or perhaps at the kebab shop stuffing my face.  I got bored of waiting.  And by that I mean I’ll be dancing around my room in my Pjs or binge watching TV on my laptop with what can only be described as the remains of a chocolate chip cookie in my underboob;  because I’m not wearing a bra because they hurt.

Here’s my other issue. I want to lose weight. But do I? Or do I just think I do because society and the media say I should? You see my issue. I don’t know if I’m doing something I want or doing something I’ve been told I should want. And yeah maybe I am over thinking this but it’s a scary thought. I don’t know the difference between what I want and what society wants me to want. I am aware I sound full on mental right now but go with me. Do I want a relationship or is society telling me I want one? Do I want to lose weight or is society telling me I want to so i can attract a mate? These things go through my head daily. Frankly I would go on a diet but as previously mentioned most vegetables taste like nothing and I love food and to exercise would involve moving away from my laptop and if I did that then how would I binge watch TV shows?

You know what I just reread this. I understand why I’m not the kind of girl guys fall for. Nevermind. Good day reader.

p.s I would say I’m not mental but the jury’s out on that one. It is however past one o’clock in the morning if that helps my case any. 

[as-told-by-laura]

Love....and an Accidental rant

My mum and dad’s anniversary is coming up; it’s been 23 years since they were married. I find that baffling. I don’t think I could handle being around the same human for that amount of time. It’s a really long time, one of my parents friends has been married 49 years and another of her friends have been together since they were 15.  When I found out I literally just exhaled deeply, Yeah they complain jokily all the time and they do things that annoy each other but the love never fades. I think it’s lovely as well as petrifying, my dad often voices my mum’s thoughts and I don’t know if I’m okay with that; sure it’s cool at first but eventually I think I’d just get sick of them doing that. I don’t know maybe it’s just because I’ve never been in love before, the only comparison I can make it in long friendships in which I have wanted to fling them from a 20 ft building but I didn’t; partly because I love them, partly because I see them as family but mostly because it is very illegal to kill someone.

Love:

Noun

A strong feeling of affection.

A great interest and pleasure in something.

  Verb

Feel deep affection or sexual love for (someone).

  I feel like love is a term used loosely in this day and age, like when 10 year olds get a boyfriend and suddenly they ‘love’ them after 5 minutes. I also think it’s something I don’t understand. I find it often becomes an excuse to stay in a bad situation, say your boyfriend/girlfriend cheating on you or treat you badly, I would think you were insane if you stayed. But you probably will because you love them. To me you are an idiot and I don’t mean to offend you or anything but you are literally worth more than that. No one deserves to be hurt by love, frankly if love is hurting you then it isn’t love its more likely infatuation. Maybe I’ve read too many books or again just don’t understand because i’ve never been in that situation or in love but people that stay in bad situations drive me mad, I have relatives and friends who have stayed or would go because of this love but I don’t think I would. Hell I learned in Psychology at college why people stay in abusive relationships and I still don’t understand, because I can never see myself doing that. Maybe it’s because I don’t understand or I’m just a robot that can switch of emotions, I don’t know.  Maybe its childish of me to want a love like my parents or my friends parents, I’m not asking for a knight in shining armour or Prince Charming because to be honest I’d probably get annoyed. I’m not asking for Heathcliff or Mr Darcy... okay... I’m a little bit asking for Mr Darcy, but I am definitely not asking for Heathcliff. Maybe I’ve been raised Old fashioned or on too many fairytales and Disney films but I don’t want a ‘love’ like that, Love takes work but true love doesn’t mean changing the other person, It means accepting them for all they are and all they’re not, you have to work on working together and fitting into each other’s lives. That’s what you have to work at, you shouldn’t have to work at making them less aggressive so they stop shouting at you, or making them less jealous so they don’t get so over protective you have no friends or work on keeping them around and making them see you love them despite all they have done. Maybe my expectations are too high, but I see my mum and dad and their friends and a bazillion older couples and I see how comfortable they are and frankly how funny their interactions are and I’d rather skip straight to that.

  As much as I don’t think I could stay in a bad relationship despite loving them, I don’t know if I could commit to someone for the rest of my life. I hate humans, I hate them so much, and I wish I could be a different species. I will take Vulcan or Kryptonian or Time Lord or even a cat anything but human because we are pathetic things, I mean yeah we’re brilliant but goodness me are we pathetic. We dismiss what we do not understand and leave it to be feared or misunderstood. Homophobia is a prime example, the main cause being people don’t understand how a man can be attracted to another man or a women to another women and not to be that guy but initially it was mostly religious people as it was seen as ungodly (some religious people didn’t jump on the homophobia train so this isn’t aimed at them). I find it hard to understand that those religious people (I am slightly slamming myself here as  I was raised to go to church and my family is religious and I do sort of believe in god but only for the heaven aspect) could accept a story from biblical times that a man turned water to wine etc but not something that is right in front of their face. A man can obviously love another man and a woman can love another woman but to them it sounded less farfetched that one man made the world in 7 days, I’m not knocking your religious beliefs. If you want to believe in that then fine, it won’t stop me sleeping at night. I have now gone off on a massive tangent.

  Back to my point, I hate people. I would rather have a bunch of cats and just friends, maybe that’s a fear of commitment or of getting hurt but there it is. Maybe one day I will meet a guy who will change my mind but I can almost promise you that if he starts treating me or my friends badly he will be out on his arse before he can say bye. I will not stand for being treated like a piece of sh*t. I will not stand for them dictating to me who I can and cannot be friends with, or what I can and cannot talk about. I am my own person and I shall do what I like whether they like it or not. Trust me they will have enough freedom their selves because frankly as long as you don’t cheat on me I don’t care, you want time to yourself? Fine I’ll have a Laura day. You want to chill with your friends? Cool I’ll have a spontaneous sleepover. You want to come over and watch Doctor Who and get fat on Ice cream? I’ll get my Jim jams on and get the bed warm. I don’t care. If I can fit you into my life and you can fit me into yours without effecting family or friend time as well as a bit of time alone then great. I won’t give up my friends or my life for you and wouldn’t expect you to do it for me. Obviously time is needed for each other but we don’t have to see each other or talk all the time doesn’t mean I don’t love you (if we get to that stage because feelings are a no). I know of couples that are madly in love and live apart, yes please. You have your space and I have mine. I can sleep at yours or you at mine and then have time to ourselves but see each other whenever we want. It’s a win win situation and I’m not going to get annoyed at your face because I see you too much which is probably what will happen after 23 years plus of marriage.

  If you’ve been or are in a long term relationship then give yourselves a pat on the back because I think you’re brilliant. You deserve a medal the size of a dustbin lid, you are amazing. Congratulations on not killing each other. 

[as-told-by-laura]

No Means No. Huge Rant

I have repeatedly seen things on the news and on various social websites about Girls being killed or attacked for saying no. As a female that petrifies me a lot but what worries me more is the reaction of people around them and the media. It is in no way the fault of the female for saying no. I don’t know how anyone can ever think it is. Just because we have a vagina and pair of ovaries doesn’t make us any less human, it doesn’t give us any less of a human right to say no. I have friends that don’t like saying no to sexual advances because it makes them feel guilty, how is that fair? They should feel comfortable enough to say no without feeling like they will be judged as a tease or whatever else you want to call it. One of my best friends ,who is a lesbian and has a girlfriend, tends to be chatted up by lads, when she tells them shes a lesbian and has a girlfriend they either continue as though they can turn her or kick off as though she’s lying so they’ll leave her alone. She’s a lesbian, just stop, she isn’t interested, you have the wrong anatomy.  I recently read about a boy who was persistent in asking a girl out, she said no every time and eventually he threatened to shoot her (with a gun he had in his locker) she still replied no and told a teacher, the gun was found and he was arrested. The people around her, sometimes people she considered her friend were mad at her for saying no as she put them all in danger; that she could have gave him a chance and its people like her that give girls a bad name as a tease. No. This is not okay, it wasn’t her fault for saying no, she shouldn’t have to say yes just so she doesn’t get threatened. Can you imagine their first argument? or the first time she isn’t in the mood, if he’s willing to injury her for rejecting him or force her into a relationship you can bet he would be willing to force her into sex or be violent towards her. This is just not okay and situations like this are becoming more and more frequent in the media and this is just not okay. Why would anyone think this is acceptable behaviour, that its okay to threaten girls for saying no rather than just accepting it and moving on with your life. I am truly worried for the future. It bothers me that despite the fact that even though we live in the 21st century girls are still viewed as sexual objects rather than people. I see things about men who demand girls who have hot bodies, big boobs, blonde hair etc etc etc but no mention of a personality and then when they don’t attract girls like that they kick off and don’t understand why they can’t get a girl like that. Maybe because your expectations are too damn high. Granted female expectations can also be too high. If you want a girl like that then marry a barbie, that way she can’t say no or tell you how much of a pretentious, misogynistic, arse you are. 

The friend zone does not exist in my opinion. I apologise if you believe you have been put with the ‘friend zone’ but it doesn’t exist. You have been rejected because they either do not see you that way or you are not attractive to them. You do not have the right to treat them differently for their decision, they can’t help not seeing you that way or being attracted to you, they just don’t. You can’t help liking them but you can decide how you handle the rejection. You can either sit, whine and cry for ages to your friends or you can just accept the rejection and move on but remain their friend. If the friend zone existed then everyone’s friend would be in it, including those who haven’t been rejected. There is  either boyfriend/girlfriend or friends or not friends. There is not magical zone where people who have been rejected go, so just stop. If someone wants to have you as their friend (even if it isn’t what you want) you should accept that because then surely its better to have them in your life as just a friend rather than not have them in it at all. Also all I hear is (mainly males sorry) complaints about being put in the ‘friend zone’ which usually go like this “I complimented her all the time, I’m so nice why doesn’t she like me!”. This in particular annoys me as some males tend to act  as though being nice deserves a reward, it doesn’t. Being a decent human doesn’t deserve a reward it should just happen, those who expect a reward clearly aren’t as nice as they put out there as they tend to be the ones who turn on girls and call them degrading names for rejecting them. 

Have you ever noticed that most of the time the media presents rape as being the girls fault? Usually because of the clothes she’s wearing, even if she’s wearing short shorts or a short skirt/dress or a low cut top. Like its so impossible to be raped while wearing clothes that are baggy. She isn’t asking to be sexually assaulted, she just feels comfortable enough in her own body to wear clothes like that. If I was comfortable enough and felt like I could wear clothes like that I would if I wanted to, that doesn’t make me a slut or that I’m asking for it. The whole concept of rape is that its without consent so a girl is never asking for it if she has been raped because if she had been it wouldn’t be classed as rape would it? Another thing that bothers me is that some people believe it’s down to ‘boys being boys’ no, unwanted sexual advances or sexual assaults are not boys being boys, its boys being inappropriate and rapists. You notice how the saying is boys will be boys and not men will be men? Yeah, that’s because real men don’t treat females like that. Also I have noticed that when Violence occurs by a boy the media tends to deflect the blame away from him. For example recently a school teacher was killed by a male student in front of the class and the media blamed heavy metal music and violent video games. No it was the fault of the child, either he was raised wrongly or has something mentally wrong with him. I’m friends with people who listen to heavy metal and play violent games and watch horror movies but none of them have ever killed anyone so you really can’t blame the violent act on that. Its basically just going back to the days when it was believed heavy metal and rock was ‘devil’ music. It really isn’t, it’s just music. We have become a society of deflecting blame rather than just accepting responsibility for our own actions. I am seriously losing my faith in humanity.