What Is My Life?

I think I've reached one of those low points. I told myself I'd never reach the point. I'm almost ashamed but it's me who had that thought so of course I see the world in the same way so see it as fine. My wrist looked oddly tempting to me during that phase.
I realised whilst I was breaking down at midnight the night before a Maths exam and after a 10 hour Art exam that I haven't cried properly for a while.
During the Art exam I spent so much time with Hemlock and my friends it's unreal. Of course he realised just how mental I actually am and why he doesn't hang out with us that often. But the fact he "rejected" (his words) me was brought up three times. I either laughed or eviled them off, and was amazed I wasn't responding much more dramatically. The first time it was mentioned by him I sat in silence with just wonderfully depressing songs in my head for about an hour. Finally I've cracked. After trying to hold hands with myself in a way that looks convincing I've learned that:
a. I need to get out more
b. I just want somebody to hold my hand

It almost always comes back to love with me. He hugged me today. If I still thought I had a chance I would have melted inside and written an entire blog about what we would name our children and what the bridesmaids will wear. But, unfortunately, I'm not in that mindset so I felt more miserable. I appreciated the gesture, obviously, but I don't like friendly hugs. They remind me too much of what I don't have (which makes no sense).

I have considered going anorexic before- countless times. The feeling normally goes away within a few hours and I'm back to being normal and stuffing my face full of fat and sugar. But I'm getting worried as I've only recently started getting the thoughts about potentially hurting myself. The thing is, I have thought and even dreamed about getting severely injured. This is one of the most disturbing things about me that I can think of at the moment (but I'm sure there are more!). On reflection, I only ever injured myself around other people. I think I crave attention and just want someone I can rely on who's caring for me. I'm not sure if I'm just twisting my own thoughts for my advantage with trying to defend seriously worrying thought, but it would make sense. I've always loved getting the attention.
I recall the thought when I pictured myself self-harming: Jensen or Hemlock seeing it and trying to help me. I really really need to move on. It's not fair on him. Anyway, I'm a bit worried for my own health now. Self-harming is not the way to attract guys.

I've tried psychologists, psychiatrists and GPs galore but there's nothing significantly psychologically wrong with me according to them. I'm so certain there is. I'm not exactly little miss confident around people, I have breakdowns about once a week but often more, I have about 6 friends and that is all and I crave every second with all the wrong people.

I have a pretty crap life at the moment, but according to popular belief, things can only get better.
Yeah, right.

Another Joyous Emotion

Hooray I'm all confused again. In all fairness to myself I never stopped being confused, so I suppose now I'm just more confused than normal.
Too much confusion.

Anyway, the reason why I'm feeling this way is that it has been about 6 weeks since I told Hemlock how I felt and he told me how he felt. And I haven't moved on. I think it's difficult as I never really considered him as being just a friend. He doesn't know this (thank goodness) and so I don't think he understands how difficult it is to go back to how you were with them if the only other option you have to go back to is not knowing them. We're good friends now. We trust each-other, but I still crave every second with him and I feel awful for it. I just want to be able to tell myself that we are friends and I am happy with being at that level.

People at school are not being very helpful with the moving-on process. Just a few days ago he sat next to me in a lesson when we had a cover (and of course you sit where you want then). That was after sitting at the other end of the five-seater bench a friend and I were sitting at the end of. I felt slightly insulted. Then two other people came in and he took pity on us and moved down. The wolf-whistles and shouts from the back were ridiculous.

Oh, and then there's the other confusing bit. Of course I now like someone else. Well, that's got to help with the recovery process.

I've known him for almost 5 years and I can't believe I didn't really think of him before. Dear YJ has come up with the nickname "Komputer" (nononononono) but I am going to go for Jensen as he loves cars and it's a bit less... weird.
But I spend about 10 hours with him in the same room, and before it was even more than that. We've gradually started talking more as I sit opposite him in I.T. and have required technical assistance several times. And he has brilliant taste in socks. He started talking properly to me after I looked at his socks and then said
"Those. Socks. Are. AMAZING!!!"
He then came over and talked to me for a few minutes. Inside I was both melting and cursing myself.
I don't actually see him very often. But I know that he is more... excitable... than I am when he talks to people, and still he has gone out with a very pretty and, as I thought at the time, friendly girl.
Rumour has it she was telling people she really wanted to dump him and had she known prior to going out with him about his "mental health problem" she would not have gone out with him.
I feel awful for him.

Thinking back like this reminds me of when we were standing outside a lesson about a year ago. It was a non-uniform day and I wore my usual leggings and t-shirt. But I felt seriously awkward as it was the first time I had consciously felt like I was being "checked out". He was just looking up and down me and I did look at him but I felt so uncomfortable I tried to distract myself talking to a friend. I'm not sure if that was a good "checkin'" or not. I hope it was good (why wouldn't you?) although it was the first time a little thought popped into my head that it is entirely possible for other people to have a crush on me!

A little update since I started writing this blog- I am so unsure where we are. We sat next to each-other in an exam and smiled at the other a few times. That would be normal, had I not been very conscious of the fact he was also staring for several seconds at a time. Several times. I'm not sure if this is just what he does, but I felt so uncomfortable, although it was early in the day so my make-up was almost flawless and hair was not too windswept.
I hope this goes well. I don't want to get hopeful too soon and I hope I'll speak to him sometime.

Expect the Expected

He asked if he could talk to me in private today. I think I knew then.

He said he trusts me more than he does most other people. Except that he likes me, just not in the way I like him.

I can cope with that. To be frank, even being friends with him was more than I could ever have dreamed of. He does deserve better than me, and I learned that I can have friends. I hate to say this, but it is a bit like practice for later life- knowing there are some people that I just cannot have and will have to get over.

It was much sweeter and easier than I thought it would be. I could think clearly and plan my words this time. He put his arm round me and his head on my shoulder. I would have melted inside normally. But this time I just didn't really connect.

It's going to take a while, but I will be able to let it go and start to just stop thinking about how I look to him. I've run out of guys in my school to like like, so I can just relax more. I wish him all the best for the future he deserves.

I am so grateful that he was so calm and mature. And I am glad I said it.

AAAAARGHHHH!!!!

I'm not going to lie- I am ever so slightly -okay, seriously- worried. I told him I liked him today. He didn't tell me how he felt back, but I said the thing that has been on my mind for almost a year.

I just blurted it out. It's always that really romantic bit in films where they just look into each-other's eyes and tell the other just like that.

I was petrified.
My head was swimming.
My brain switched into auto-pilot in case I stopped walking
I tried to bring myself to say it so many times, but failed to.

My brain does this thing when I am in a really stressful situation. It disconnects from the rest of my body. I felt like I was no longer part of the world. I felt like I was watching it happen- without realising that somehow I had to do something. It was like that all the way down the road, ever since I first stepped out of the classroom with him that afternoon.

He took it rather well actually. He said I could just have talked to him, as I said what was putting me off was being so scared of his reaction.

It still hasn't really clicked that I did tell him. Each time I try and look back I keep thinking that I just watched it happen like in a dream, not that I actually told him in real life. As I was so full of adrenaline, I can't remember parts of it. It's like tipping out a jigsaw box and trying to put it back together. But then you have 6 corner pieces and not enough of the other pieces and there is no picture on either the box nor the pieces. I am really confused.

He didn't say if he liked me back or not. He didn't even look shocked. But I'm glad I told him, even if we don't go anywhere, because I gave us a chance.

Poison and a Meal

Finally (although it may be the penultimate one by the time I actually finish this blog!) I will move onto quite possibly the most confusing yet brilliant last few months of my life.

Around the same time I realised my feelings for the person in my previous blog, I was introduced to a new person. I shall call him Hemlock, as that is the nickname that Yellow Jane gave him, and it is the one I have grown used to. No "Mr" something- they're a bit cheesy and I've grown out of them.

Hemlock- a highly poisonous European plant of the parsley family ... ,used medicinally as a powerful sedative.
It's also a heavy metal band, but I don't think YJ had that in mind.

He said that he came up with the word himself and Diamond Heart said that it was a real thing, then went on to describe it. YJ was shocked but said it fitted still. YJ now claims that he knew all along the meaning of 'hemlock' and that's why he chose it. But that is another story. The point is, that YJ thought 'Hemlock' was a suitable nickname because "he is poisonous to me".


I wasn't quite sure how to take that. Do I take it in the way that once I've taken a bite I will have the taste in my mouth until I die? Or that he will be the breaking of me and I should stay away? Or that he is intoxicating me and I have completely fallen for him? Or all of them?

I don't know.

Having successfully rambled for over three paragraphs, I should probably return to the little story I started that you have probably forgotten in all the time I did spend rambling. So on with the story!

Over the next two months, I never really got the opportunity to talk to him much. We were in the same art class, and he was the only one of a few boys in the class. He didn't really get on with the more popular group of boys, so talked with YJ, another male friend of ours who is in his form, another incredibly annoying "friend" of mine who I am relived that he does not get on with, and me.

At the end of those two months, we had an art activity. In groups. And there are no prizes for who I was in a group with. I don't even need to consult my diary to know what happened, despite it being about 6 months ago. We did well in the presentation. Only after we did ours, we had nothing to do but listen to the other groups' as we were first. He didn't want to turn around (probably because it would take effort) and I was sitting facing the front. If you haven't worked it out, we were sitting opposite each-other. We couldn't help but make eye contact. And I am pretty sure I blushed and looked down each time he did. But we managed to talk when the chance was there. I pretty much ignored the rest of the group in the last hour. We had done all the group work in the first hour, the gaps now would just be conversation opportunities.

We talked a bit more before art lessons then. And a little more during the other lessons I share with him, which is actually a fair few. Doing the maths quickly, I have 60% of my lessons with him. That's quite a lot... But we gradually got more confident, but we still lacked a proper opportunity to just... talk.

And that opportunity presented itself in the month after the group art project. An art trip. 3 days of nothing but supposed to be doing work but really chatting and actually looking around the place. Or avoiding flares as was the case at the Eiffel Tower where a protest was taking place.

But we talked like there was no tomorrow. I actually got told off for talking which isn't exactly something that happens to me very often! We talked on the coach, walking to places, walking around places, whilst drawing and in the restaurants.
What embarrassed me most was the restaurants. To say I am a fussy eater is a bit of an under-statement. So I sat there the first meal time looking at continually at the mashed potato, salad, creme brûlée, beans and tomatoes that were put down and taken away. And I cried at one point. I wanted to eat, but this wasn't home. For one moment the desire that has been with me for over half of my life overcame me. The problem was just staring at me in food form. I wished I could have been normal and have been able to have eaten that food in front of me. I was starving, and I couldn't eat it. It wasn't for trying, but there was only so much I could take.
The fragility of my emotional state from being away from home, in a place where the only bit of the language I knew was "je joue au foot" and being faced with a quite honestly daemonic teacher who came up at the end of each course to check I had eaten, and then having to pretend I was enjoying it, was too much. I broke down.

The next day was a little better. This trip I was actually illness-free (on my previous school trip I had a bug which meant I could eat nothing anyway, which was actually good as I wouldn't have eaten any of the food served to us anyway) and I was feeling seriously hungry. I managed to eat breakfast, but the lunches were too much. They were pretty disgusting even for my able-dieted friends. So I went without lunch too. By dinner, I was praying it was not a repeat of the previous night.

It wasn't. It was pizza- a thing I have recently got into (thank goodness). I wasn't sitting with the boys on this meal, but I did have a friendly face with me. I avoided the mushroom landmines in the first pizza, and said I was fine when the salad-on-a-pizza was offered to me. Dessert was something I hadn't tried before. Chocolate on a pizza. And I tried it. And I actually rather liked it. So I had two pieces of it It was pretty sickening at the same time; it was just sugar in a savoury dish and the two do not really mix.

But I had been provided with some energy, and I felt a lot better because of it.

On the way back, I was given an origami penguin by him, which is named Pingu for some reason. But it became a conversation starter for our mad little conversations.
On the ferry, we exchanged numbers. And it all went from there.
We pretty much texted all the way back. And as we had done on the way there, we had a rave to the music on his iPod. Music was the thing that united us.

I continued to text him over the next few months. We sent several thousand in those months, which required a new phone contract! It was worth it.
He chose to talk to me a lot more voluntarily. We even worked together in lessons when he had the option to go with friends. But most importantly, he started walking out with me. It was only for 5 minutes until he got his lift home, but it was a great chance just to talk one on one.


Have you noticed all this was in the past tense? I most certainly have.

I don't actually know what happened. The texting died down until it stopped completely. I felt like when I talked to him to was less relaxed and flowing. He looked less comfortable around me. And I felt almost stalkerish. I just wanted to talk to him all the time.

I don't know how we got out of that situation. But now we do get on more than in those cursed months. He chooses to talk to me more over his friends. And we started texting again. True, it was very short lived, but it happened. If he didn't have a certain apt for losing his phone it may be a bit more frequent and I may care less about what I write. Now I feel I have to plan what I want to say and then write it. So it's not exactly back to normal. The thing that got me is that we don't put the 'x' on the end of texts any more. I miss it.

I wish I had asked him out when I had the chance. I was being nagged like there was no tomorrow, until there wasn't going to be that chance tomorrow. Now it is the summer holidays, and he appears to have lost his phone. Great.

Apparently he had a crush on a girl and he asked her out last year. She turned him down. She is incredibly popular, and I deeply admire his courage to ask in the first place. I don't know whether that means he could ask me? But I don't want to just put it down to him to ask, however I just can't bring up the question. I'm scared of potentially losing that friendship. I'm worried about what to do if he says yes!


I think I've covered it. For now, anyway. If you've read this far, you are amazing- love ya! :)
If you are wondering why this was put up at about 2am, I meant to start it when I lay down about to go to sleep at 11. I got kinda in the zone and just couldn't stop. Ow my thumbs hurt!

Thank you for reading! :)

The Boy Next Door

And now I am going to move on to my second situation. It's going to be more of a summary of the time over which I fell for him.


I don't simply have crushes. When I fall in love, the rest of the world can dissolve away into nothing for all I care, so long as I'm with them.

But he confused me so badly. I had never met him for three years. Then suddenly I sit next to him in just about every lesson. I get on okay with him for the first few months. We don't talk much, but we can work together. And as we begin to get more confident around each-other, we begin to get to know the other a lot better.

I told him everything about me. My private life. The side I wouldn't want to tell anyone. But I trust him. Even if you only have ten minutes after meeting him, you will trust him. For he is the kindest and most friendly guy I know.
He is physically impossible.
How can somebody be that lovely?
I can think about it as much as I want but he is still there. Still his friendly, rather athletic (*grin*) self.

I don't know when it was I realised. It was not love at first sight, I am certain of that. It was more of a gradual progression of emotions, so that I could have looked back a month and been amazed that I could hold a vaguely normal conversation with him without secretly wishing the next line he said was the one line that every lovesick person wants to hear. Those were the "good old days".

It had been about two months when I was first aware that something had changed. I wasn't sure whether it was me, him or just the atmosphere of the class that day. But the next day I knew it was me.

I thought I stood a chance as I didn't think he was very popular.

Oh how wrong I was. Almost the whole school knows who he is. Everyone is friendly to him, and in return, he is super friendly to them.
Except one girl that just went beyond friendly and stepped into the flirting zone. She said she didn't like him, but I know enough about body language now to tell that she is lying!

The popular girl flirting with the popular boy. Well that doesn't surprise me. School is pretty much a status game.

I got my friend to ask (discretely!) if you liked me about five or six months later. The answer was that I was not his type. I may have broken down at the time, but it was short-lived. It helped me begin to get over him. As usual, I'm still not fully over him, but now I've accepted his opinion, and the alternative love life he could have. And the one I could have...
There was practically no recovery period.

It Takes Two to Tango

To you, it may seem as though it has been a long time since my last blog. In truth, it is. But to me, it has been an age.


I have been through so much, I need to put it into two blogs. It's a bit like a television programme that gets your attention with a dramatic two-part series starter, before settling back in to regular programmes.
I'm sorry I can't be more regular, but you can't really rush  life.


I am going to dedicate this blog to getting partially over somebody. I went through hell to get there, but I did it and I feel much better because of it. I'm safer, legally, also.


So I liked my teacher. Quite a lot. To the point I may just have loved them. My heart fluttered every time I saw them and I felt as though my life revolved around him. In a sense, it did. Every time I saw him I forgot what I was doing and had to watch him. I thought we would be good together and I should try and be flirty (the flirty I know which basically means go red and avoid eye-contact when he looks at me) around him.


That was what part of me said I should do. The part of me that is like a miniature Agony Aunt told me that it was ridiculous. He could have a girlfriend. He could be married! He could have a child!
It was insane and the only trouble was that my heart refused to give him up.


He was (and still is) pretty good-looking. He was my ideal man in looks. I've always been a sucker for the guy that is too old for me, and there was one just... there...
It probably didn't help he was the only one of two male teachers I had at the time. The other one was also good-looking, but not the type that 'appeals' to me.
I think you need male teachers in your life. This has taught me- not what I was supposed to learn, it is true, but taught me nonetheless- that you will meet someone that you simply cannot have. You can love them until the cows come home, but just no. I learnt that the storm will pass, but you will have to go through the storm first. And, to be honest, this is one of those lessons I will actually use in later life.


The process of 'getting over' him is one of the most difficult things I have ever done. It's not as though I can simply avoid him. If he handy already of guessed he would have done by that time. One day I was blushing and almost gawping whenever I saw him, the next I was looking down or trying too hard to stage a conversation with whoever I was walking with.
It took time. Months even. Almost half a year. But I am so close to being over him. He had only rejected my heart, and all I had to do was find it again. And that I did. I found it with another person. And so the whole process began again. Great.


All I feel when I see Mr Perfect is a distant feeling of longing. I will never fully be over him whilst I see him this often. I still imagine that we could be together, but now it is only when I see him. I can sleep without lying there thinking about what a mess my life is. At least, when he's a part of it. Or not, depending on your angle.
In case you haven't guessed, there is now someone else in my life. It's taken me so long to get round to writing this that I have also had other person join the rather awkward party.


I will update you with the events of this seemingly never-ending party as soon as I can.
Thank you for your patience!