Why I Have No Faith in PSHE Lessons

I haven't eaten for 24 hours. And at the moment I have no real desire to eat- I don't feel hungry and I'm starting to like my figure. So by not eating I would keep this figure.

Now thanks to PSHE (or Health Ed or whatever you call it) I know of several cases where anorexia has gone too far and people have died as a result. You never learn about the cases where they turn their lives around. You never learn about the smaller cases where it is a lot more personal and small-scale- far more realistic to many young people's lives.

So what are they teaching, despite them probably wanting to deny it? If you start being anorexic, it will last a long time and will end with you losing a massive amount of weight. And they are given attention when it gets too far. Do these people do it for the knowledge that if they keep going, suddenly people start caring about them? And I think that that is what has started to click in my mind- people will start to notice the girl who is used to blending into the background behind the natural supermodels strutting around school if she does something extreme.

Another thing (I do go on a bit when I get started- sorry!) is that they say what can cause it, and what the end result is. They don't tell you how to deal with the initial temptation. Surely that's what matters? You see, if I am being tempted and I am fully aware of the risks but think that if I can moderate it and only do it for a short time, then the lessons are teaching the wrong thing. I can tell myself that I won't let it spiral out of control as I know the risks but I have no idea about the minor side effects.

As time has passed, I realised that I am going to eat, but I am going to use this feeling as motivation to improve my diet and exercise. I want to get this figure back again, but I want it to be sustainable, with me still being able to enjoy food and increase my lifespan. Don't panic- I won't do anything stupid. I'm grateful that PSHE has recognised and brought up anorexia, but it is one of the very few lessons I found vaguely useful, and even that wasn't covered to a level anyone could find useful.

The Ten Best Films So Far (in my opinion)

So Yellow Jane published a post about what he thought were the best films, so I thought I would give it a go!
In no particular order, my ten favourite films are:

1) Hot Fuzz- what can I say? I have seen it about 5 times and still laughed until I had to pause it to breathe! I'm a massive fan of comedy films and the Frost/Pegg combination kills me.

2) Up- I know. I'm a teenager. But come on! The first 8 minutes told one of the most emotional stories I have ever seen. Oh and it is very cute! The feels I get from watch are second to none.

3) Thor- it's not just because I'm a Hiddlestoner. Although the plot wasn't the strongest I've seen, I enjoyed it greatly and it has Chris Hemsworth taking his top off.

4) Marvel Avengers Assemble- No explanation needed.

5) The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey- I would kill for the Hobbit life- those fuzzy little feet, the hair, second breakfasts and the cosy little houses in the sided of hills. I'm going on an adventure through the stunning scenery of New Zealand!

6) Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason- a perfect film for watching whilst crying into a tub of ice-cream. With wonderfully cringe-worthy and positively unrealistic moments I'm amazed I love it so much. But the humour can lighten even the darkest of love-related bad moods I'm in.

7) Hawking- I won't lie, I watched it for Benedict Cumberbatch. However, I got so absorbed in the plot that I forgot entirely about the casting and was catapulted into the brilliant mind of Stephen Hawking. Beautifully done and I felt even better that I actually understood bits of what they were saying (CMBR in particular).

8) The Magdalene Sisters- an incredibly moving and harrowing film that I am undecided whether I should have watched or not. On the one hand I have so much more respect and sympathy for those who found themselves in such situations, but on the other it made sleeping very difficult and hasn't left me over a year later. Wonderful acting and a very well-written film.

9) Some Like It Hot- oh the classics! This was a brilliant film and had some brilliant lines. Sorry to overuse the word brilliant but it was a very good film and was... well... brilliant.

10) Skyfall- oooooh this was a good film! Judi Dench as M, Ben Whishaw (yes I'm a Whisker) and the "relationship" between Bond and Silva all added to making the film near-perfect. "Welcome to Scotland" remains my favourite line and the theme tune... don't even get me started.


So those are my maybe not favourite, but top 10 films that I feel were the most memorable for the right reasons. Whether you agree or disagree is up to you, but there is my list!

I promise I'll go back to my normal soppy self soon!

To be or not to be?

I'm all sad again. So of course this means another blog. I realise now that due to me only really writing blogs when I am emotionally pushed towards doing so it will probably give you the idea I am a very depressed person. In truth I am- sometimes. But the rest of the time I am actually a relatively happy person who laughs a lot.

But now I need to get on with why I am writing this. And it is for several reasons- the main being that I found my old phone.

I have been told that there was a time that Hemlock and I... well he would have probably said yes if I were to ask him out. That time was a fair while ago, however.

But I can't help but think of what my life would be like now if I had of done something earlier. And finding my phone showed me just how well we got on in those times. There was no awkwardness, nothing stopping us expressing ourselves and our madness, just what was clear to me was a very close bond.

We were just so alike (I'm not sure why I'm talking in past tense as we still are) and I saw completely why I fell head-over-heels in love with him. I think I felt something from him too at that time. But I let the time and the emotions get away from me.

At least I did say something in the end though.

But thanks to saying something, it has knocked my confidence back. I don't feel ready for a relationship, much as I do want one. I can't even hug properly. I fall in love so easily that I'm obsessed with them if they start showing any liking to me at all- which is horrible if they like me as a friend. I guess the reason why I feel awful at the moment in the long run is that I really like Jensen. A lot. We have been texting a bit, too, which makes me very happy due to the 'x's on the end that he put there.
And the fact he starts most of our Facebook chats.
But what I feel bad about is that I am almost certain he likes someone else. I think there may be two of them, and they are both the annoyingly naturally beautiful girls with equally irritatingly bubbly personalities and maddeningly intelligent minds. But I unfortunately think that they are out of his league. If he does like them in that way, then I feel sorry for him- and I don't know whether I should annoyed or sympathetic towards him.

Screw that I've been in that boat often enough. Especially with celebrities but that's another rant.

We have a fair bit in common, as I have discovered in the 2 hours a week that we sit next to each-other. And I can't help but feel sorry for him when he tries to talk to these girls about it and they don't like it (to simplify things, it's Pokemon).

The final thing that is winding me up is my inability to keep a secret. I am fine with other people's secrets (unless I'm asked about them in which case it seems I am physically incapable of lying)- it is just my own. I trust people too much with too much information.
I shouldn't have people telling me that "there's that guy you like" when he is only a few metres away. I feel crap about myself as I know that each time is just a reminder that my love life has been going far from well and I'm not ready to move on.

I never moved on from Hemlock. I just keep running over it in my own head and have no idea why I do it. It doesn't help at all. But it does tell me that at least when I do finally meet someone who likes me back, I will be the happiest person on the planet. Probably. There would still be the whole drama of a relationship to go (which I never understand why people complain about when there are those who haven't even had their feelings reciprocated at all- unless that was their problem in which case they shouldn't be in a relationship at all. Idiots.) and I'm prepared for that. That's the easy bit.

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!

A Scouting for Girls Quote

I have gone and done it again. Another celebrity crush has formulated in me. This time, it's my second American. Darren Criss is the name he goes by, and every time I see it, my mind slips into the endless fantasies that have made themselves known these last few days.

You see, I never really knew about him. Yeah, I watched A Very Potter Musical last year, but I didn't see him really. I was really looking at the whole thing. Then, my heart didn't run wild. It was a tame thing, really. Now I have to try and lock it up- and watch all my defences break down in mere seconds. However, now I have got into watching Glee and looking at all the actors and actresses in it and their lives, I realise how much I like him. True, I am not as obsessed as some other fans (cue the video of him getting pulled off stage during a live performance by a fan), but I could get so much worse. I haven't got a poster of him stuck on the back of my door (that is reserved for Mr. Tennant and his TARDIS, my GoApe certificates and artwork), mainly due to me not finding a shop in which they sell them. Any help would be greatly appreciated.

Having now got into graphic making, I find myself making more wallpapers. I thereby made one of all the lovely men I have fallen for. I had to have six so there weren't any blank spaces. That was a real struggle. I had to be a REALLY big fan of them for them to go on my wallpaper. I got four. Then I ran out of ideas. Alex Pettyfer- yup, like him, Tom Felton- *faint*, Tyger Drew-Honey- gorgeous and the latest addition of Darren Criss. I then got stuck. I racked my memory and pulled out Chord Overstreet. That still left one more. I couldn't put in a picture of Mr. Cute as I possess no pictures of him. Mr. Completely Adorable- the same issue. Mr. Right... Oh... I know where there are pictures of him, but I don't think I could cope with looking at him every day. So I was left with a picture of Mr. Tennant and his TARDIS. Why? I have absolutely no idea. I liked him at one stage in my life, but not now. So I had my six men- but six seemed so many. Then I remembered it was only really five. Five isn't such a bad number. I will just suffer heartache five more times then your average person. And why is that so bad if your heart skips a beat five times more than that of your average person?

So I am lying awake the day after I lay down. I have been lying here for hours- more than I care to count. The silence is occasionally broken by the passing car. The song is still playing through my mind on a seemingly endless loop. The song that is my new favourite song. The song that is my new emotional song. The song that reduces me to tears by the end. In a way, when I listen to it, I don't want it to end. It is such a beautiful song that I fell in love with it before the singing even began. It fills my heart with an instant burst of warmness. I can't help but sing along. And me singing along makes it personal. And making it personal makes it even harder to resist the tears. Not that it was easy in the first place.

I am one of life's criers.

I will break down when the little things stack up. I will cry when I injure myself. I will cry when I think too much about Mr Right. I will cry when I remember how much of my life I have spent in love and how I felt when I realised they had found their love- and it wasn't me. I cry because it is never me. I cry because I think it never will be me. I cry because it reminds me I am full of emotion and human. I can't think now. I have started again.

And I have heard a rumour going around part of my year that I 'play for the other team'. I have really nothing to say to these people. They haven't read this blog and I have no intention for them to. They have no idea what I go through every day. They have no idea -at all- what it means to be me. If I talk to the source (and I know who it is), then what good will that do? It will probably just enhance the rumours. If I back myself up, it will just be twisted and used against me. So I just cannot be bothered with them. It is a stupid rumour. Everyone that knows me knows that I am definetely not. I am pretty sure of my sexuality at the moment -but you never know- it may change. Whatever. They clearly have no hope of a love life and so choose to try and put down someone else's potential. They are just sad. A sad person that preys on other people to ignore the fact that no-one likes them in a loving way. And I know who I am. I am me. I am still hopelessly in love with Mr. Right. It hurting me and tearing me apart, but I love the feeling after this. It reminds me I am more alive then The Source. My heart still beats with something other than spite.

I love how it hurts.

The weight blob -sorry- blog

I have been told that I am not fat and to stop saying that I am. By a boy telling you that, it doesn't make you any more confident in yourself. At least, it doesn't for me. He has no idea what size means nowadays. It basically says: if you want what I define as a good-looking guy, you need to be a twiglet. A twiglet in skinny jeans and a low cut top, or basically a dress with very little fabric used where the pounds needed to buy it is higher than the amount of pounds that makes up you. 

I went into Hollister recently. This may not seem that big if you have never been anywhere near that kind of shop. They need to rethink their USP. It should be "Seriously anoexic? You will manage to fit into a S in our shop! But not an XS. You have to be a skeleton to reach that level.". I managed -just about- to fit into a large. Thinking back, I realise how optimistic I was to think I would fit into a so-called 'Medium'. I queued for about 45 minutes to be served by this tall, skinny man in his early twenties in a shirt and trousers. I spotted a female colluege of his in VERY short shorts and a strappy top, showing off their flat stomach. A very sexist shop. Or maybe just focused on its image? Either way, it makes me think that women need to focus on their appearance to get noticed. Makeup is part of it, but I think that size is everything.

Imagine you are in a fight, with one side trying to destroy the other. If it is between two average males in my area, they will fight until the end. If it is between two average females in my area, they will throw insults at eachother, until the final, destroying blow is dealt.
"Fat!"
That word can kill.
Either emotionally it can break them down to tears, or force them to starve themselves.

Note, when people say "Wow! You look great!", they are normally going to finish that by saying "Have you lost weight?"
It is never
"Well done! You've put on a bit since we last met, great job!"
Why not? Why can't we praise people for not jumping with their pencil legs on the bandwagon?

I read in a newspaper a while back that we are getting fatter as a nation.  Alongside and article about how a girl got a letter that she was overweight, and when you look at her, she doesn't look it. I hope they did BMI as opposed to weight alone. But muscle weighs more than fat. So very fit people are branded 'heavier' than people that are the opposite. I would hate to get that letter. Just to get told that by a load of text... It sounds horrible. No wonder they complained. Don't tell people that they're overweight. Teach them what it means (but don't exaggerate it for the considering anorexic person) and let them do anything if they want. Have tastier, healthier food in canteens. They don't want rabbit food. Potato salad with a salad for dessert and fruit juice? That's mad.

I looked into some celebrity wives. Models. Skinny models is what came up most. The celebrity may not even be that good-looking but they have got a girlfriend that seems to equal the couple out as 'average looking'. I have no chance of being a model. I lost a load of weight when I was away and got wolf-whistled at, but they just help my point. No one looks twice at you when you are a size 10 or above. If you dip below that, you are suddenly popular. Well sorry. I'm not going to sacrifice my health for my modelling career.

If you're on the average side- good for you! If you exercise as well- fab! If you eat sensibly without being obsessed- take a gold star sticker and give yourself a pat on the back. Don't listen to the media. Listen to your health and you. Balance the two and you will feel great. I assure you. I've tried to do that all my life. 

Another Letter, Another Love

To You,

Great news! I got over you after all this time. You have transformed yourself from a perfect, sensitive boy into a complete idiot and an embarassment to yourself. You radiate idiocy to anyone you associate yourself with and I want to stay as far away from that little mine field as possible.

Now. The only reason I say I have got over you is because I have given my heart away to someone else. And this time it is someone I literally CANNOT have. And the age gap is scary. Really scary. But this time, it isn't a celebrity. This person knows me, knows more about me than I know about them. Now, it isn't a case of that person liking me back, it is a case of any feelings being forbidden.

I am confused.

My stupid heart. My stupid, bloody irritating heart. It runs off with who it wants without my consent. I can't stop it. It has this attraction to what it can't have. I shrug my shoulders and wonder when it goes away. Only when I know where it is do I want it back and I cry. I am so over-emotional. I think I just have one of the worst love-lifes ever. Or, more, the absence of one. It does annoy me. But it causes me more pain than anything else.

I am relieved I got over you though. It caused me so much pain over the years. But now it is over. And now it has started again. I hope this isn't as serious as you and I. Not that there ever was a 'you and I'. It is just three words that happen to go together in a sentence..

Now there is Mr. Right. He is a Mr. Wrong to everyone else in perspective of the two of us, but he is my Mr. Right. I seem to have this urge to show-off around him. I have NEVER, ever had that before. And I temporarily forget how to breathe. That has happened before, and I think my lungs must have extreme short-term memory on their bodily function. It reminds me I still like him. It is useful to know, because hopefully -one day- I will get over him, and I hope it will be short and swift. Not last time which was like cycling up a foggy hill. It is a struggle all the way and you get easily tired and wish you could turn back. But then you can free-wheel down. Only then I found that the hill had a ramp that threw me into limbo, suspended in the air like a rag doll, at the mercy of whatever lay at the bottom of the drop. I crashed, what seemed like badly at the time, but I managed to pick myself up and walk home.

In danger of sounding like an Apprentice candidate with all these metaphors, I will move on.

If you are reading this: thank you. It means a lot to me, I never really thought of doing this before. I have a few friends out there that read my blogs, but for those others, it makes me feel very appreciated. So thanks for reading, and no matter what time zone you are in, have a wonderful day/night.

Anyway Mr. Right, I do highly doubt you will read this. I hope you don't, but in case of all eventualities, I am sorry. I didn't choose to fall in love with you. My heart is a free spirit. I try to tether it back but it escapes. If in an even rarer case you know it's you, I hope we can still get on the best we can. But I feel this post is just going to be a voice that is lost in the wind.

Experienced?

I haven't done a blog in a long time, and for that I am sorry. We've had exams after exams with more on the way. Today brought two more ridiculously unnecessary pieces of evidence I really don't care. I couldn't revise as the subject area let my book out of their site so now it has gone AWOL. I cared a little, until my teacher said that I didn't need to revise.

I made a mental note to keep that in my head forever.

Another feeling of deep loss has come over me again. I apologise for another 'code-name', so to speak, but I do like using them. Mr Completely Adorable left three weeks ago. I don't mean left, as in left school. I mean left, as in moved country. I only liked him for a few months and didn't know him that well. In fact I don't think I knew him at all. I never knew his full name. I never knew about him. All I know is I met him occasionally, and that was all.

And he was (and still is) VERY cute.

I thought I didn't like him, my brain was telling me it was ridiculous. But then he said he was leaving, moving to Spain. Adios senõr (I apologise again for my abismal Spanish). I managed to hold it in, wish him luck and get on with my journey. But when I got home I found tears down my face, with no recollection of having passed them. Does that mean I love him? If I know nothing of him but cry about him? If I still wish he would come back? If I wish I could have told him outright that I liked him?

That's the point though. We don't know the future. We don't know what we really feel. Other people know us better than we know ourselves. And that isn't really what I want.

I have got to get a hold of myself. I can't stop myself falling in love, but I have to learn that love isn't worth my tears. As I was told a few years ago "You will meet your perfect person soon enough, and you will know it when you meet them."

I've had four false alarms then. Four totally brilliant, yet heartbreaking, false alarms. Making me more anxious to get to the real thing. It's like exams that matter. You are so mock-test-ed to death you want to get the real thing done so there is no need for another mock. I'm getting impatient. I hate being denied what I want.
Everyone I know has had a boyfriend.  Everyone I know has has had their heart broken. Not many people I know, in fact none, have had their heart broken as often or as painfully as me. Still, at least the most broken valuables seem to be worth more than a whole an unbroken valuable.

Why does this keep happening to me. Experience makes you wiser? Hell no! It makes you angry and upset. Experience is a fatal word in a relationship. Or a track record. People don't want players. They want you and know they will have your heart, and you want to know that they will look after it. So don't think going out with as many people as possible is cool or makes you look good. It makes you look like an idiot, and in the end, everyone will hate you.

As I am growing to do. Thank you Mr Cute.

(I have had this stashed away, so it is a little out of date!)

A letter to no-one

To You,

I really do not know how to say this. I loved you. And I still do. Even if you want to pretend I don't exist, please just talk to me. I can still survive, just, if you respect what we could have had and show me your grace and care which made me fall in love with you in the first place.

But you don't know I love you. You don't care about me. You don't give a damn. You just ignore me. I am special, and not in the good way, I know. But the mere fact I am writing this shows that I do care and don't care whether you like it or not. I dream. 

In fact, I had a dream recently. That was when I thought I had got over you. I had managed not to think about you for days and I felt happier with myself. But then you appeared in the only place you would. In my dreams. And that is where you and I will stay. Where they will never exist. This dream made me fall head-over-heels in love again. I knew that I never had got my heart back.

So that is why, Yellow Jane, I know you never will get your heart back when you give it away. I gave my heart and what I didn't have, and now I can't cope that he hasn't given me his in return. I want it back. But I know I will not ever get it. You are cute, gorgeous, witty and popular. I am me. And that is why it will never work.

I can't go on kidding myself. I am going mad. The only thing that is escaping my chasm of madness are the tears. They run away from me too. Just like everyone else. No-one can stay with me. They think I am some crazy idiot that talks rubbish. I am not crazy. I am confused and trying to take it all in. I am not coping. And I don't know what to do.

I want help. I want you. Please help me. You don't want me. But I want me. Whatever anyone says, I am still me. I am proud of myself, but I am no longer whole. I want it back. So please give it back to its rightful owner. You will never use it. So why not give it to someone who can?

Never and forever yours,
Phoenix
x

P.S. I know you will not read this. If you do, you won't know it's for you. But I want to tell you after all these years. I am beyond caring. So before I delve deeper into madness, I need you to pull me out. 

It isn't just me

Finally, something that I am passionate about that other people are also passionate about. I have started collecting money for the Comic Relief in two years time. I will only put money in the tin, and the only time it goes out will be when I donate it at the next Comic Relief. I am quite proud of myself. I have steered away from saving up my spare money to buy a laptop or Wii game etc, and instead want to use it to change someone's life.

Then I move onto the raising money part. I have no clue how to raise it, myself being quite a shy person. I was thinking of temporarily dying my hair, in the holidays naturally, to get money, but who would pay to not see that? Most people only do a sponsered silence for a day. I was thinking of doing the full Monty and going for a week. Now that will be fun. Especially during school. And on the phone.

So what can I do to help? This is always what annoys me; I'm not old enough. I want to go out to Africa and meet and help some people there. I want to help a person that has injured themselves in the street, rather than have to walk by, not knowing what to do. I have done about seven first aid courses, but they are rather boring, and never prepare you for the full impact of actually witnessing an injured person. It's all "Elevate the limb" and "Reassure the casualty". How do you reassure the 'casualty'? What if they have numerous injuries? What if they have spinal damage? Do I really put them in the recovery position? And they aren't a casualty. They are a human being, still human, just injured. They don't want a very focused person that tells them nothing and gives them little reassurance. They want you to be human too.

Why not give part of the course on handling with their emotions? That's why I loved one of the courses. True, it did take me a year-and-a-half of weekly sessions, but I learnt loads. Plus I learned how to reassure them. Slightly anyways.

Back to age. They don't want me helping them. They would just take one look at me and go "What do you know, huh?". I want to help. I need to help for my own good. I HATE having to force myself to walk on because I can't help. Please, just accept that. I do want to help. My heart wants to help too. But my brain can't. And unfortunately, my brain controls this whole operation. What it says, I do. Sorry.

I Just Lost Myself

It's OK, I do it a lot. I don't lose myself in stupid soaps or games, I lose myself in my one true passion and escape- music. Music is my world, my life and my way out. If the day gets tough and I am at home, I sit down at my keyboard (with my headphones in) and play until I think I might never find myself again. I don't sit and play Mozart or Linkin Park (but I do occasionally play a tiny bit of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata), I play what I feel passionate about. I do have piano lessons, but I would never really play those pieces out of choice. I play Doctor Who, Twilight, Take That and attempt to play songs I love by ear.

This brings me onto the music I love and listen to. Going past the stereotypical screaming teenage fan-girl at a concert, I must say I hate concerts. I went to one in 2009 and after feeling I was about to be deafened, I sat outside and listened from there. People of my age around me talk of Justin Beiber, the Jonas Brothers and Tinie Tempah. I'm not even going to bother with spelling. I admire people that write and sing their own songs. And that's why I like Eliza Doolittle. My cousin introduced me to her music and since then her feel-good music has grown on me. I am also quite a big Take That fan. I'm not one of those squealing fans that go to every concert, follow them everywhere and get a tattoo saying "I Love Robbie" or "Back For Good". I just think they have amazing voices and listen to their music.

Going against what people think about 'Modern Music' and going for the young people, I really love Scouting For Girls, Green Day (my favourite!), Rogue Traders (but I only like one song), The Fray and The Hoosiers to name a few. I'm not saying these people are old, but compared to how young some singers are now...

I am now also finding you don't get many 'average' artists. They all seem to be ludicrously good-looking and have as much meat on them as a stick of celery.

I am draw, therefor, to play piano music, where no vocals are needed and I actually know vaguely what I am doing. I also feel that pianos are the most beautiful instrument in the entire world, beside the true and pure human song. I gave up on piano grades, as I don't think music is all about certificates and exams. It is about feeling proud of yourself, and choosing your style.

Music is the answer to everything, and I don't give a damn about the question.

And I would also like to wish 'Yellow Jane' a very happy birthday! :)

A Silent Language

I believe the language I am speaking of at this time is the language we can learn most of, and is the most developed, yet we learn more and more every day. I have just begun learning it, and have found it incredibly useful and interesting. I am speaking, of course, about Body Language.

It facinates me greatly and I actually want to learn it. I'm not going to talk with Germans or the French about what sports I did last weekend and what I would wear if I went to a party. I find that if you do trading, then you will find body language much more useful (but beware of the language barrier!). You can tell if someone is lying, what mood they are in and what they think of you before they open their mouth.

Sometimes though, I wish I couldn't tell what people meant. They say "Some things are better left unsaid.". So what do you do if they don't need to say it and you know?

However, I am a LONG way off being perfect. For a start, there are over 750,000 different signs, and I don't even know 50. And even if you do know all of them (getting past your head exploding) then you could easily mistake them and that could in turn affect your reaction.

I am getting the feeling that it is a bit pointless to learn however. We already know what looks shifty, if someone is lying and how people are feeling. It is always nice to know as much as you can though.

Now is probably the time to mention another 'friend' of sorts, who does rather good blogs and you should probably check them out:
Yellow Jane

From a Hopeless Romantic

Before you even get to the 'boyfriends, girlfriends' thing that is all that is spoken about at my age, you get to love. And now I am confused about what love actually is. All I know is that no boy is showing it to me, in a kind of more than friend way. Listening to my mum's Take That album on my iPod (them naturally singing about love) they are basically singing about a beautiful woman that is great at sex. I am not beautiful, and I have no clue about the sex bit, being a young teenage girl and having a sense of dignity.

There are others talking about family love. True, but that love is not optional. You are blood relatives and supposed to love and care.

This brings me nicely onto my next point. All I want is the type of love that family can't give you. The love given out of choice rather than having it put upon you. And so I move onto me. I have never had a proper boyfriend. Ever. Of couse I would like one, but I don't think I would cope if it went wrong, but it all depends on the person.

If you don't understand, I shall explain. There is a cute, funny boy that I have had a crush on for three years. It would tear me apart if I left him. Just the thought of that feeling brings tears to my eyes. However, this boy in question has 'gone out' with four other girls in that time, with up to about 2 month relationships. So not very reliable, saying that if I went out with him it wouldn't last very long. I should have given up ages ago. But I haven't. I try to stop myself crying when I found out about his latest accessory with more fake-tan than skin, but I can't stop it. He goes for the pretty, popular ones. I am neither. All I was worried about in my first year then was work, learning and homework. Finally, I realised that school isn't everything. A good job won't make you as happy as if you have love.

I asked a few of my friends if they would go for love or money. 2 of them said love. The other said money. She is entitled to her opinion, it is true, but I don't think money can make you truly happy.

I read a while ago in The Times Magazine in an article with James May in, that he said teenagers just dream about sex. This has been on my mind for all that time, and I couldn't disagree more. I have been brought up in quite a 'well-off' area, thus have a moral up-bringing. Never had the sex talk yet though. I just dream of being happy, being loved and no more. Love is not one of those things you can get more of. You have to accept what you are given and treasure it, as you can lose it in a second. The most greedy I have got is imagining the impossible love I will probably never get.

There is always your second choice. Of course, you never tell them that, but there is always someone you dream you could love. For a few girls in my form it's Zac Efron and Aston Merrigold. I've had a few celebrity crushes, but they have only ever been much older, about treble my age people. I don't say this to most people, as they don't seem to understand that you can't put an age limit on love.

I accept the fact I have gone incredibly soppy, but Mr Cute is going out with ANOTHER person now, so it's a way of expressing myself.

I also accept that no-one will read my blogs, but I love speaking freely.

It's Just A Name

It has just occurred to me that I have not explained my name choice properly. I have already said that I am a Whovian (a Doctor Who fan), and the Song part comes from that. I love the image of The Doctor and River Song, so what happened if River had some adopted child? That is where the surname came from.

I also found I was writing a lot of Doctor Who fanfics with my character being part TimeLord (or Lady!). I have also always had a thing about the Phoenix, and as Phoenixes seem to live forever, the name Phoenix and TimeLord combined seemed to work. Thus, Phoenix Song was born (metaphorically speaking).

I have no clue where 'Yellow Jane' comes from, but I am sure they will tell me. :)