Bye then.

Love being slated by people who used to call me friends, in ways absolutely uncalled for.
Love being deleted from Facebook by such people for no apparent reason.
Love it all.

Skype calls and other happy things

Happy things have been happening lately, which make the not quitting a little easier than last week.

I cannot articulate how happy it makes me to Skype my brother. He is my rock in this rather turbulent sea, and always has been. He is having such a hard time right now and it is so difficult to see/hear that when I can't be there with him, but he knows I want to be and I think that helps. I find it really hard to be separated from my brother, it genuinely feels like a part of myself is missing. Frankly, I do not give a shit what anyone else says about the fact that we are technically half-siblings because we have different dads. I love my little family, however untraditional we may be, and we certainly do not love each other any less for it. But back to the point. Skyping my brother cheers me up immensely. I am so, so grateful to have such a wonderful man in my life, and my brother means more to me than I could ever express. So while we talked through some tough things tonight, I feel so much better for having spoken to him again.

Also, I have started learning pointe!! I have my pointe shoes and everything now, but I can't sew ribbons on and practice or break them in until I go back to my new class on Saturday and get the teacher to check they're alright. But still, dreams are coming true, and that is always a happy thing.

(AHHH they're mine!!)

I have decided to go back to counselling, which I think is a step in the right direction. During the assessment session I admitted some things that I had yet to fully realise, and the counsellor and I both think it will be very beneficial for me to continue with it to give myself a chance to come to terms with those realisations and grieve for what I have lost.

It's reading week this week! Which means that I have no classes and can focus on doing my next essay, reading the big-ass novel they've set for one of my modules, and use the rest of my time to go to the gym and my yoga class there :)

Finally, David is coming up this weekend so we can have our joint un-birthday party (since we missed each others) and eat cake, drink cider, and play Tombraider all weekend. I am happy about this prospect.

So all in all, things are looking up. Problems haven't gone away, but happy things are helping.

Coming home (Last week's unpublished post)

I went home again this weekend, and was so sad to leave.

Mum and I didn't get to do anything special because I have essays due Tuesday and so had tons of work to do, but William and I went to the Wicksteed fireworks show together.

It was so, so good to see that boy again. Uni makes it difficult to meet up and spend time together, but every time we manage to figure something out I feel so much better for seeing him. As usual, I forgot everything I've been struggling with, and it was so nice to be with someone that I didn't have to explain anything to and who was more interested in talking to me than playing on their phone. Saturday was also the first time I haven't spent the whole day feeling on the verge of tears. It was really funny, and he was as silly and cuddly and sweet as usual. Even when we met up with two other boys I didn't feel left out, we just all had a really good time together.

The bonfire was great, but the sadly fireworks felt so much shorter this time! I'm sure they normally last a lot longer. They were cool while they lasted though, and it gave me a chance to play with the settings on my camera again. They always play well known songs to sync the fireworks to so naturally we were all singing along, and during Aerosmith they boys definitely sounded like a classic boy band :')

We went on a 'mirror maze' at the fair, which was some pretty funky shit. It is so confusing because you have no idea which panes are 'glass' and which are open, so it is even difficult to just retrace your steps. It was super fun, and after that we just chilled and chatted until mum came to collect me.

Saying goodbye to William was not fun. I do not enjoy walking away from that boy. There's nobody like him, no one I get on with in the same way and can just cuddle or be stupid with or whatever at uni. I don't know how we came to love each other so much but we do. I remember having to explain to George that yes we loved each other but no not George did not have any competition because we didn't love each other in that way. Although William can be a total pain in the ass sometimes, he is always there whenever I need him to be, and I wouldn't wish for a different best friend. So yeah, saying goodbye for the billionth time did suck.

Trying not to quit

Since I spoke to my personal tutor, as mentioned in the previous post, I have been forced to admit that I am not coping.

I miss home. I miss my mum. One of my brothers is having a really hard time and I can't do anything to help him. I can't even give him a hug because he's in a different country. I haven't spoken to him properly for ages and I miss him more than I can actually articulate. I need him to cheer me up but I can't tell him how I'm feeling because he has enough on his plate right now. My other brother has been so busy with a new job that I haven't heard from him since the beginning of September, so I can't talk to him either. Add that to an increased workload and the fact that my father just walked out of my life and took my half-sister with him, and I don't think it's particularly difficult to see why I'm struggling.

I want to go home. I love University, I love my uni house, I love my friends here and I love earning my mum's pride, but I am falling behind because I can't cope.

I can't deal with all this shit and still be the First Class student that I have been working so hard to be.

My grades are really important to me and always have been, so the fact that I may be losing grip on the one thing I can actually do is beyond scary.

Despite my education being so important to me, I really just want to quit. I want to deal with one thing at a time and my family will always take priority. I want to lay in bed and cry all day. I want to take a week out to visit my brother or look after my mum. Most of all, I want time to grieve the loss of my relationship with my sister, and actually the final loss of my relationship with my father.

But I don't have time.

I have university. I have studying to do. And trying not to quit right now is actually the hardest thing to do.

You have only let me down.

Since I came back to University I have spent a lot of time pretending that everything is wonderful when I'm actually really struggling, and it has taken a lot to finally admit that to myself and others.

Uni itself is incredible, I am genuinely loving it. But, as my personal tutor pointed out on Monday I specifically said 'everything at university is great' rather than 'everything is great'. The problem is outside Uni, and I have been trying so hard to keep it that way and not allow it to effect any aspect of my academic life.



However, there is really no escaping it. It's the same thing every fucking time, except this time it's really a kicker.



You may or may not remember, but in a blog post titled 'Ugly Crying' (http://littleboatfloating.blogspot.co.uk/2014/07/ugly-crying.html) I explained the then-current situation between myself and my father. In case you missed that little gem, I'll offer some explanation.



My father, as most of you will know, has never been particularly interested in making my life easier and happier. In fact he seems to revel in the opposite. Normally, I just ignore his best efforts to make me miserable and get on with my life. After over a decade of this shit you just get over it. This time, however, is different.



In the ugly crying post I explain our major fall out, cease of contact and the final argument in which he gave me the all or nothing ultimatum - be a part of his family or lose contact with all of them, until my sister is old enough to decide whether or not she wants to know me herself. When I ended the blog post I was still waiting for him to write to me. He did, in that he sent me a birthday card with two words in it, and a sticky note to say that I should write to him re a new start.



So I did. I told him that of course I wanted to be part of the family, that was what I had been trying for since I started University last year. I skipped the egg shells and told him that I would never willingly walk away from my sister, so actually I was making the choice without any real choice. I also said that although I wanted to have an actual father-daughter relationship again, I wanted it to be one without the pain and awfulness that we put each other through last time.



Apparently he did not find my terms agreeable, because although I sent the letter to him in August, I have not heard from him since.



The awful part, the part that kills me inside every time I think about it, is that I haven't heard from my sister either.



He won. He has rejected my terms and taken away the one thing that mattered to me under his control.



I still write to her, of course. But I don't know whether she even knows that. I don't know how he has explained the lack of communication to her, and my biggest fear is that she thinks I have walked away from her.



I made the choice to suffer his presence in my life so that I could make sure she knew I was always there. My father forced me to make that choice, and then rejected my decision for the sake of his own sense of control.



So now I don't seem to have a father. In my case, that isn't much of a big deal.  I don't miss him, and I don't feel like I am missing out on anything. It always angers me to the point of tears that he is entirely incapable of behaving as a father should. I am surrounded by wonderful men, men who are fantastic fathers or who would be fantastic fathers. So I know that it is possible. But apparently not for my father. Not for me. Other than this constant frustration, I couldn't care less about him. I am done.



My sister, however, is a whole other matter. I adore her, and I am completely heartbroken now that I may have lost her. There is absolutely nothing I can do except to continue to write to her, as I have been doing, in the hopes that one day she will see one and know that I never gave up. So now I'm playing a waiting game, hoping that she will be deemed old enough to make her decision sooner rather than later.



All of this, as might be expected, has made me feel really rather miserable. When I'm miserable, I'm a rubbish person, and I hate that. I was extortionately rude to a very good friend last night, and I barely noticed. That is not me. Misery makes me forget myself, and this particular misery, like it's cause, is unrelenting. I have been trying so hard to get by, and to separate my academic life from all this personal shit. But it isn't working. I am losing all sense of motivation, and I cannot imagine that I will still be at First standard by the end of the year. Today is the first day since I sent that letter that I have acknowledged the extent to which I am hurting, and the extent to which every other part of my life is suffering for that. I have been trying so hard to fight against the return of my depression and the eating disorder that followed last time, but I am so scared that I am just falling back into the dark place in which I lost myself the first time.



I feel so, so alone, and so fucking helpless.



But I hate self pity parties, so tomorrow I will acknowledge that tonight was for accepting how things are and how I actually feel, but I will tell myself that the new day is here and the pity party is over. I will force myself to get up and to carry on. I will focus on my work to the point that it numbs me. I will continue to survive, although I ache.

Life is better with friends

A wonderful weekend

On Saturday Becky and I went to a nearby lake with some other international students and spent a few hours there reading and chatting. It was super pretty, and there was a little fake beach at the side of the lake that was perfect in the beautiful sunshine. I got to know some girls from Thursday better, and met another girl who had some very cool things to say and who told Becky about a live performance of Rocky Horror that night! So we got back and I had some Oreo ice cream from Yum Yums because it was that kind of day, then we studied, ate and slept until it was time to get ready and go. It was absolutely insane and we loved it! So that's one thing I can tick off my bucket list. We got back at 3am though.

Sunday was incredible. We got up early despite the late night and started the drive to Boone to see Ian and some beautiful mountain views! It was super exciting driving down and watching the landscape change as we got closer and closer to the mountains. I also saw a sign for a Volunteer Fire Department on the way which made me happy because of the Lemony Snicket books. When we arrived Ian showed us around his very cool, hippy dude style apartment, and it was so good to see him and really interesting to see where/how he lived. We headed down the road for lunch at a Mexican restaurant which was great because not only was the food delicious but we got served really quickly - ten times faster than in England! After dinner we visited the local town, which was super cute and full of diverse people (but mostly hippies). We saw a motorcycle gang drive down the main road with one member in a skeleton mask just seconds after walking past a group of barefoot hippies braiding some beautiful bracelets. We went into Mast General Store that sold a whole variety of things from sweets to hiking gear and I got myself a little handmade photo block that says 'You are Loved' because I wanted something special that reminded me of this trip without it being some corny souvenir. After that Ian took us to explore his University campus. So many statues! If I remember correctly they have three libraries, which as a book nerd I find fabulous, if I'm wrong then the one Ian took us to would make up for numbers in it's elegance. Their observatory was also pretty cool, with a whole rooftop of telescopes. After our tour and lots of catch up chat while we walked, it was time to head back and change ready for our hikes in the mountains!

This is the place where I will run out of words. Not because there isn't anything to say/describe, but because the entire experience was innately indescribable. Ian drove us all to the trail for Beacon Heights, and we began the short hike to the outlook. It was super cool to hike up paths that were more nature than human-made, but the whole thing was making me pine for my brother. I had a nice chat with Becky about brothers and exploring on the way up, but when we got to the outlook we just stopped because it was breathtaking. We emerged from the trees onto the stone and into the open air. We could see for miles across the gorgeous tree-covered mountains and I stood for a good few seconds in awe of what I was seeing. We got a group photo and sat down together to appreciate the view. Ian asked if we'd ever wished we could fly. Sitting above the trees gazing across the landscape certainly gave me a taste of how it would feel, but sitting there with my friends in that moment was enough of a dream come true for me. I think Becky and I had an overwhelming sense of gratefulness to our friends for making this possible, because she started to say thank you at the same second that I had been thinking how to say it.

After a long while enjoying that view, we walked the trail to the other side. As I stepped out of the trees onto the other outlook I turned to Ian to say that the view would never get old, and he told me 'It never does'. Some people think that once you've seen one mountain view you've seen them all, but that is certainly not the case. The views change continually as the visibility changes, so there's always something new to see. While up there we got talking to a super sweet, super interesting old couple who I could happily have talked to all day. It's rare to meet people who can sustain conversation so well, and it was an absolute privilege to hear what the lady had to say to Ian and I while her husband talked to Becky and Sarah. We talked about birds, landscape, books, the power of education, the fact that we hear more about evil than good and what effect that has on society, Cicero, the problems Ian faces becoming a teacher in today's society, the beauty of different landscapes in different countries, and so much more that I wish I could remember. She congratulated Ian and I on being 'awake', which is an incredible compliment because it is so important to me. After saying goodbye to the lovely couple we headed back to the car for another adventure.

Sarah was feeling tired and poorly so sadly felt it would be best for her to stay in the car while Ian, Becky and I hiked up to Rough Ridge. This hike was a little more strenuous because Becky and I have short legs and the 'steps' we had to take were a little further apart than was comfortable. Nevertheless, it was well worth the extra effort. It isn't often that the view you see with your own two eyes beats the professional photograph on the front of a postcard, but that was one moment it certainly did. Waking up this morning I felt like the entire day and everything I had the privilege of seeing could have all been a dream. We took our photographs to prove that it was all real and that we had really stood there, then sat down together on the edge of the rock and enjoyed watching the light change the landscape. As the light moved, new areas became visible as others lost clarity. Every second that we sat there we had something new to see. In that moment, sitting between two of my favourite people on the top of a mountain, I realised that I am content with my life. No, everything is not perfect and there have certainly been a lot of hiccups, but I wouldn't change a thing. I am content, and for that I am so so grateful. I just can't wait for my next adventure, and to meet all the wonderful people that I am going to continue to meet and love. So we sat up there feeling content and enjoying the view until the wind forced us to head back down to the car.

Before we left the mountains, Ian drove us through a wall of fog to Thunder Hill, where we stood at the edge of the road at watched the fog rising up out of trees across the mountains. It was so surreal to watch the fog rise in what looked like tufts from random spots on the mountains. The cold pushed as back into the car after a few minutes and we said goodbye to the mountains.

Sarah went to eat with her sister but Becky, Ian and I went to a place called Come Back Shack for dinner, a burger place where every ingredient is locally sourced and (I think) organic. I'd used up pretty much all the money I'd brought for the day on fuel, lunch and the souvenirs, but luckily I'd brought food with me so I ate that and just shared fries and chips with Becky at the restaurant. We talked about ISIS, governments, international laws and police, terrorism, rights, and time flying by. I was reminded again of how much I enjoy talking to Ian face to face, rather than by Facebook messaging where our conversation feels restrained to small talk. Ian talked about how much time had just flown for him, as he is in his final year and about to step out into the world. As he was talking about how fast it feels like we age, I was felt sad at the realisation that the next time I see him could be a decade away, when he will have lived through so much more and we will all have changed so much. But when we all headed back to the apartment and Sarah was ready to go home, saying goodbye wasn't as awful as it could have been. Although I miss Ian already, and will miss my other international friends when we say goodbye on Saturday, I will keep in mind what Sarah told me: If you have people in your life that you miss, just remember how blessed you are that you have people in your life who love and care about you and who you love and care about enough to miss. So that's what I am going to hold onto when I get on my plane home this Saturday. I'm going to remember that regardless how soon or distant our next meeting is, and however far the distance is between us, I have been blessed in my friends and nothing can change what they will always mean to me.

Things that I've learned this week:
Life is better with friends, and I am so lucky in mine.
The importance of kindness and kind people.
That I really need to get over my English reservedness and start actually talking to people the way my friends here do.
How important it is to explore and examine this life and our world. If we don't keep asking questions and learning then we can never grow.

I wrote a postcard to my sister today and I just really wanted to tell Imogen about the importance of friendship and kindness above everything else, because standing on top of those mountains yesterday is an opportunity that would not have been available to me without those things.

Apologies for getting all philosophical with you, but I don't know how anyone could see what I saw and not feel this way. It's no wonder almost everyone in Boone is a hippy if that's where they live.

Coffee shops and new friends

I've been here for a good few days now and have been too busy or tired to write!

There have been a hell of a lot of names to learn, and a couple of people have made regular appearances this week which is nice. We've spent a lot of time in this cute little coffee shop on Tate Street, and the other day Becky and I were joined by a few friends and had a lovely afternoon talking about music and writing while sipping delicious coffee.

I've only spent one day fully on my own. Becky needed to work on an essay and catch up on sleep really badly, so I decided to go exploring. I found my way downtown (eventually - road signs are confusing here!) to Greensboro Historical Museum, which was a thoroughly interesting museum about the history of this state. I learned about the Quakers, slavery, feminism, the civil war, and the local people. The museum staff were super lovely which made the whole thing even better. Walking back was much easier, and Sarah collected me from the lovely coffee shop. She and Hollyn went straight out to church after dropping me off, and I spent the evening eating, watching movies, and eventually video calling Ian to talk about our visit to Boone on Sunday. It was a little awkward but all things considered it could have been a lot worse, and it was really nice to see him again. It's been difficult for the rest of us to get a response out of him about visiting but it looks like we're good to go now.

Sarah has said she'll take me to some more museums next week if I'm interested, so that should be cool.

On Thursday night Becky and I went clubbing with some other internationals, which was kinda fun. It totally sucks going back to being underage after a year of being able to drink legally at home! I feel like the club we went to is the kind of place where you need to be at least tipsy if you want to enjoy it fully. We were on a rooftop, though, which was super cool. It was a really cool night aside from the one style of dancing that all the Americans insist on doing - grinding. Not pretty, and actually makes it a little scary to go there as a woman. Overall it was a good night.

We meant to go out to a different club (less grinding more salsa) last night but despite two coffees we were totally shattered and couldn't find anyone to go with us anyway. Instead, we curled up with some popcorn on two sofas that had been pushed together and watched He's Just Not That Into You.

I'm not sure why we were so tired yesterday because all we did was study and go to an amazing cupcake shop called Maxy B's, where I ate an absolutely delicious gluten free chocolate cupcake! There were loads of flavours to choose from normally but sadly my gluten intolerance meant I could only have chocolate, vanilla, or chocolate and pumpkin.

It's super nice here and I'm really looking forward to going to Boone tomorrow!

Oh hey there, America

Sorry it's been a while, things have been pretty hectic lately.

Hello from America!

I arrived in Greensboro, North Carolina last night after an exhausting and eventful outward journey. As always I barely slept before we headed to Manchester airport (at 3am) so I was tired as well as nervous. It didn't help that I had received an email from United Airlines telling me that my Munich to Washington flight was delayed by over 2 hours, which meant that unless they caught up time I would miss my connecting flight to my final destination. First flight was alright, although I felt a little nauseous with nerves and it had taken forever to get through security. My second flight was still delayed, and so I had way too much time to waste and not enough water to drink. When I found somewhere to buy water, I was so stressed I left my jumper, passport and boarding pass on the counter! Luckily I realised quickly and ran back to pick them up. The second flight was horrible because it was so long and I can't sleep on planes. I ended up watching two films - Transcendence (great film) and the new X-Man (alright film) - and still had over two hours left to try and get some sleep. I slept fitfully, despite being so exhausted. Arrived late in Washington and was told that I had been put on a flight to Greensboro on Sunday afternoon, and would therefore have to collect my bag and stay overnight. Luckily the airline provided a hotel voucher and food vouchers, so I didn't have to think about claiming on my insurance.

After a horrible stressful moment about my luggage and a tearful phone call with mum I made my way through the maze that is Washington IAD, used one meal voucher for a hot chocolate, water and fruit from a lovely man who was super nice and gave me directions to the shuttle bus for the hotel. Now I was expecting a Travelodge type thing, but this hotel was super fancy, and I was so grateful to be able to go to sleep in a lovely room with a comfy bed.

Sunday
I took my time getting ready to leave the hotel, and made use of the coffee machine and chaise lounge in my room, which was pretty cool. Luckily I had the fruit and some other bits that I could eat for breakfast so I didn't have to use my last voucher at the hotel restaurant. Getting through the airport was very uneventful so I chilled at the gate watching Eddie Izzard videos and letting my friends know what was happening. The flight was horribly noisy but luckily very quick. I had a wonderful taxi driver who was chatting away to me the whole time, and gave me his number so that I could call him to pick me up for the return journey.
I arrived at my friend Sarah's apartment at 7 I think, and it was so so good to see her! We picked Becky (ahh I was so excited to see this girl!!) and had dinner at Hop's with Sarah's roommate Hollyn. They had gluten free vegetation burgers! It got very confused ordering my burger because in America you choose every component, and I'd only ever had a burger from McDonald's where unless you specify what you don't want then there isn't as much choice. Other than the confusion the meal was great and it was great to catch up with my girls and get to know Hollyn.
The workload is crazy here, so we spent the rest of the night studying (and getting distracted talking about boys) in the library.
It was a really nice day, and I am so grateful to my mum and all my friends for keeping me chilled through the more stressful parts of my journey.

Today (Monday) I am meeting up with Becky after her class so we shall see what today brings!

Things learned on the outward journey:
Do not attempt travelling to America on your own if you get stressed very easily and don't have a sense of adventure. I'm lucky because although I get stressed easily I do have a sense of adventure, and that meant that I could recover easier from the stress and look back on it all with a smile.
Try and find some kind people to help you or just be kind to you, because they make the world feel 10x less scary.
If it's free, use it or eat it!!

Ugly crying.

For a blissful but short period of my life I believed that I was free of my father's hold on me. I finally overcame my immense hulk-like anger and hatred towards him and simply became indifferent. For a while he could not hurt me, because I did not care. It is the unfortunate truth that this freedom has finally ended.

I have a half-sister, whom I love. She is 10 years old as of this April and is the sole reason that I stay in touch with my father. We have been writing letters contentedly to one another for years now, and our relationship has been entirely separate from my relationship with my dad.

Until now.

My father has decided to give me an all-or-nothing ultimatum. I must be part of his family's life completely, putting in maximum effort and making every attempt to make this broken father-daughter relationship work again, or he will cease contact with me immediately and include my half-sister in that.

Part of me is willing to accept this, because upon starting University I had hoped for a fresh start in all areas of my life. I decided to make more effort with my dad's family for my half sister's sake. By this point my father had decided to actively ignore my every attempt to contact him, so reconnecting for the restart didn't go so well. Nevertheless, I persisted with these attempts until the 26th April this year.

That was the day when I phoned their house to ask if my sister wanted me to visit for her birthday. I had been hoping my father wouldn't answer, so naturally he did. What ensued was a long and exhausting argument after which I was under the impression that I no longer had a father, as he 'couldn't be bothered' with me and all my 'crap' any more. That time he left my sister out of it.

So I gave up on my hopes of restarting the relationship and focussed instead on being a better sister.

I had not heard from my father since the 26th April until he messaged me this week to ask if I wanted anything in particular for my birthday. I replied that I was surprised by the offer given he'd basically disowned me, but that in any case there was nothing I couldn't treat myself to and that I would prefer it if he spent the money doing something nice with my sister instead.

On replying he basically ignored that request and had a massive rant at me about, in essence, me being a selfish shitty daughter and issued the ultimatum. When I had finished being angry and ugly crying about the messages, I realised that it was actually quite funny because dad was offering me exactly what I wanted (to try again with his family) as if I didn't want it. So I told him this, and said that yes of course I would like that, sounds great to me.

I do not believe that my father really wants to fix our relationship. He will find any excuse to fault me and cite this fault as an obstruction to the relationship. And alas he did, in the messages that followed a few days after my agreement. More stupid claims about me, on whom he thinks himself an expert when he is not. He cited many situations from the past, which he likes to complain about on repeat regardless of my response. In essence though the summary is the same. Ultimatum intact, I'm a shitty daughter, yada yada yada, will write to me but will cease use of Facebook messaging (which he claimed was the only way of contacting me these days despite the fact that I was the one who texted, called, and emailed as well as Facebook messaging him when he was busy ignoring me).

So I'm hopeful that when he writes to me the chance to try again will still stand, for my sister's sake.

I will be clear with you here. I do not want a relationship with my father. I would have ceased contact with him years ago if I did not have a sister to think about. It is for my sister's sake that I will try again if the offer still stands. It is for her sake that I am hopeful.

My worry is that losing my sister to his grip is inevitable. We may try again, but after a while he will decide that it has not worked and he will decide to cease contact between me and his family.

Regardless of the chance to restart, I worry that I am facing an inevitable forced cease of contact between myself and my sister.

The worst part is that he won't ever tell her the truth, because he can never be the bad guy. He will tell her that I chose to stop writing to her and seeing her. He will not tell her that he is ripping up every letter I send her (because I will always write to her, even against his wishes in futile hope that I will somehow get one past my dad). He will not tell her that he is forcing us apart.

For a moment, I hoped that I finally had a chance. Then I remembered who I was talking to and realised that I was facing the inevitable, I just seem to have a choice about the distance of this inevitability.

It is because of my father that I have been ugly crying frequently in this week before my 19th birthday. It is because of all the shit like this that he chooses to throw at me just when I think I'm doing okay that I cannot go a day without crying. That I cried today in town because all this is ever present in my mind, making me vulnerable to bouts of tears at any given time.

It is because of him that I am in constant pain all over again, just like 5 years ago when I had to have counselling because of him. Because I was afraid of my own father. Because I had grown up too fast to compensate for his refusing to play the adult. Because he made me feel like I was never good enough for him because it was so beneath him to utter that he was proud of me.

And do you know what?

When I told my father that I'd had counselling because of him, he didn't care. He didn't even react. My father quite simply did not give a shit about the damage he had caused me.

And I still struggle to believe that I will ever be good enough for anyone or anything, because I know in my heart that I will never be good enough for him.

For some reason that still matters.

A Sudden Tearfulness for the Men in my Life

I was reading a rather good book while listening to music today when the voice of one of my favourite men in the world graced my ears. Immediately, I felt a sudden tearfulness. I was not feeling sad. I was feeling extraordinarily grateful.

I realised, then and there, that in this so far brief life I have been surrounded by men of astonishing calibre. Not only in the form my brothers, who you all know I adore as incredible men, but also in the form of several male friends.

There is one man whom I have known longer than I have known my own half-sister, and whom has been a constant rock in my life. David. We have been calling each other brother and sister for longer than I can remember and it is a claim on him that I cling to. We have helped each other through different kinds of pain and taught each other how to enjoy the little things again. He has suffered far more than any person should be allowed to suffer in a lifetime and he has not even reached 20. This is a fact which angers me as much as it baffles me, and it baffles me because he remains an incredibly strong, kind and genuine individual. He is also entirely content to sit in a darkened room and play Tombraider (or some other video game that I am even worse at) with me, an event which I am so excited to be happening tomorrow evening. I miss him and I absolutely cannot wait to see him.

Another wonderful rock-man in my life is Lachlan. We also helped each other through pain, although we were suffering from the same mental illnesses, and sometimes I feel quite sure that we would have not survived to the ripe old age of 19 without each other's companionship and support. After getting through all that shit, he is now doing pretty darn well for himself and just finished his first year at Oxford! He still calls me when he needs me, and makes sure I know I can do the same. But I think he is doing okay. He is looking after himself and everyone else, still that kind and generous gentleman that I've always known. When he surfs, he becomes some inhuman astonishing sea creature that flies across the water and comes home sopping wet and utterly delighted with himself. You have no idea how endearing that it to see.

As much as I will always say that William saved my life, or at least convinced me that there was hope, I have come to realise that these other extraordinary men had been keeping me alive for years before he came along.

During my first year at University I met a wonderful crazy guy called Sam, my closest Keele girl's boyfriend. He is mad, loud and occasionally a little too much for little me. He is super intelligent and super kind. He also learned to read me like an open book rather quickly, and because of that ability has helped me buck up my ideas and set me on the right path. He looks out for me, as well as everyone else. I have so many reasons to be grateful for his presence in my life this year. Not only is he doing a medical degree at Keele, but he also created and runs Keele Samba band (he is a super talented percussionist who played 'Bumblebee' on the xylophone blindfolded. Be impressed.), has his own charity and frequents Africa to check up on the progress his charity is making there, and loves his gorgeous girlfriend Rachel like nothing else in the world. If that doesn't read as incredible calibre than what does?

George. Although we broke up this year, it was not with any bad feelings or constant faults. He is more intelligent than he realises, and I do believe that he will one day be the star of the gaming industry. His mind, his imagination, is incredible. I always wished I could see it. And despite this talent amongst his many others, he is always modest and was an utter gentleman to me.

Ian is just something else. Like, how is that guy human? His passion for education, nature and the good things in life taught me the true value of them. He is cheeky in an intelligent and endearing way that I love, and inexpressibly kind. I wish I'd had way more time to get to know him.

Pete, my brothers' dad, has always treated me like his own daughter. I cannot express to you how amazing that felt when I was having such trouble with my real father. He makes me feel like my opinion is valued, like I am as a person valued. Unlike my own father, he has never resented my mother and it is testament to his enormous capacity of love that he has completely forgiven my father. He prays for him. He's also super talented and a total bookworm, which I enjoy greatly.

William, my gorgeous best friend. A talented, kind and incredible young man. He completes me, and he knows exactly how to make everything right again. Super talented, super modest. It is a continual bafflement to me that he has not been snapped up by a very lucky girl. I look forward to spending my old lady days sat next to my best friend and his family (he has already told me that I will be Godmother to his children, although I'll claim the title of Auntie), reminiscing about past adventures that are currently still under construction. I marvel at his kind and incredible heart every day, and I desperately hope that he will be properly happy soon. And also that he will send me the beautiful song that he is writing.

My brothers, of course. Those incredible men with their individual talents and their individual problems who have always, always been better brothers than I could ever have wished for. They protected me as long as possible from my own father, never speaking a word against him in my presence despite the pain that he had caused them. My brothers, those home boys who despite the extensive distance between us have not become distant themselves and still phone home as often as they can. I have a lot to live up to.

Of course there are hundreds of other men in my life who deserve paragraphs upon paragraphs, but these are the men in my life who came to my mind when I cried tears of joy at being so blessed.

Happy days spent with heart-healing people

I had such a good day today, which makes me extra happy because I had a super shitty weekend.

I made it to my bus well on time despite oversleeping, and fitting in today's Insanity workout (which was easier today so I tried harder, think I'm getting the hang of this!).

I spent most of the day with my gorgeous best friend, who is possibly the cutest person ever because the cuteness is so unexpected.
When I told him that my dad had called me selfish and other not-great names he said: "You really are selfish though." Then he smiled very slightly as he finished his sentence: "You're just so kind and generous, you're always giving so you must be selfish." He just knows what to say.
Then there was added cute when he was sad that he couldn't see me on my birthday even though I never expect to see him on the day. When I told him not to worry about it because we had today, he said that it was not the same because he should be there on the day. He has now promised to phone me instead.
I have known this boy for almost 3 years now, and I could not be more grateful to have him in my life. Every time I see him I am able to realise that the things bothering don't matter like I think they do, I laugh properly for a change, and I honestly just feel complete. Best friends are worth the world, because they make your world right again when everything feels topsy turvy.

After saying goodbye to Will I saw two random pre-uni friends in town who were also cute and wanted to meet up and go out for my birthday. It was surprisingly lovely to see them, and I really look forward to meeting up with them soon.

Came home to Ben and Jerry's, and the first skype call with my eldest brother, making this the first time I have seen his face in real time since he came to London two years ago. It was an incredible feeling, and a wonderful end to a wonderful day <3

Today I am especially grateful to the extraordinary people in my life who make me believe that everything really is okay or will be, and who make me believe in better things. I have made it through a relative ton of shit because there are people on this world who are worth making it through for.

I am also endlessly grateful for my mum, who held me yesterday while I ugly-cried about the pain that my father was causing me. She didn't get frustrated or irritated or bored, she just told me that I was loved and stayed next to me until I was done. That is how parenting should be done.

Family

Dear friends,

My family has never really been a traditional one. Sometimes that bothers me, sometimes I absolutely couldn't care less.

As many of you know, I do not really have a relationship with my father. We broke it. My parents may have separated when I was three, but he has always had some kind of presence in my life until this year.

I have two older brothers (12 and 14 years older, to be precise) who had a different father to me, and so are technically my half-brothers. Although I've known of and been able to use this term since childhood I have never used it unless explaining that my brothers and I do not have the same father. To me they have always been my brothers, no matter what technicalities tell me, and to them I have never been anything less than their little sister. My brothers are the greatest men in my life. They helped mum transform what could have been a shitty, confusing childhood into an absolutely wonderful one, and I will be eternally grateful for that.

I do have a younger half-sister, my dad's other daughter, and though I do love her there is a distance between us that has never existed between my brothers and I.

There are words to express what my mother means to me. All I can say is that she is the person that I admire and adore most in this world. My brothers and I would do anything for her, and I desperately hope that I will grow up to be like her.

As such, when I talk about my family I am referring to my wonderful mum and lovely older brothers. Not exactly traditional but I wouldn't want it any other way. I used to dream of having a 'normal family'. I thought that was the answer to everything. I was so, so wrong. Traditional does not necessarily mean perfect, or happy, as I thought it did. Nor does unusual mean unhappy. For me, in fact, it is incredible. I may not have a biologically related father to teach me to ride a bike, protect me from scary people and scary things, and fulfil all of the other traditional father roles, but I don't think I need one. I am lucky to have had three incredibly strong and incredibly kind people raise me. My mother has always been everything I needed her to be and more, taking on both parental roles as well as the role of a friend. As mum never remarried, the only real male role models in my life were my brothers, and they were damn good ones. Even though both of my brothers now live and work abroad they still manage to support me and help me through the shittier days, and I try to do the same for them. I don't need my dad to be my 'protector', because my mum is perfectly capable of doing that, as my brothers are despite the distance between us. Besides that, they've all taught me how to protect myself. I've never needed an official dad, because I have them. Nothing is missing from my life.

On a side note: one thing I absolutely despise is the general assumption that single mothers raise bad kids. Screw that. Throughout my academic career my school grades have never dropped below a B, nor did I ever get into fights or any real trouble at school. I got two A*s at A Level without becoming a total hermit so don't even try to tell me that single mothers can't raise intelligent, kind and well-rounded children. If I'd let my dad's attitude towards my achievements influence the amount of effort I put into my education I would never have worked as hard as I did or achieved such good grades to prove it. My brothers have excelled in their careers, and the eldest is actually the Executive Pastry Chef at Le Bernardin, one of the top restaurants in New York and actually in the world. Not only did she raise us single-handedly since my birth, but mum did that while studying for a University degree and working a job. She is incredible. Of course it is much harder to make a lot of money when you are a single mother raising three children, but money never really mattered to us. So it doesn't matter where you come from, or what anybody else thinks you can achieve because of that, you can achieve your dreams.

What hits me most about my family is how much we care about one another, how lucky I am to have them care so much about me. Despite what my father put them all through they have never let me feel different or unwanted, and they have always protected me from him. They encouraged me to have a relationship with him because they thought it was important. They never once said a bad thing about my father until I did, and even then I know they held back. I find it incredible that they were all able to put aside their own suffering for my sake when in reality they didn't have to. I know that if given the chance, I would now strive to do the same for them. In a way I do, because this time I am protecting them from my dad. We all stand up for one another and support each other through whatever comes our way, as family (biological or not) should. Of course we argue like every other family, but it never lasts long. We are still very close and aren't particularly good at being apart (seriously, we miss each other so much that it is physically painful at times), which I think is a testament to the love shown to and shared with one another from day one. I am thankful every day that I am part of this family, even if I arrived a decade or so late. I would do anything for my family, I have seen already that they will do anything for me.


Mum recently told me about something that Laurie, the eldest, had said to his girlfriend when mum had cancer almost 11 years ago. He said: "If anything happens to my mum Jennifer is coming with me, and if that isn't okay with you then we have no business being together." Thinking about that still brings me to tears.
  
I know that if the sky falls down on me, there's nothing in this world they wouldn't do. If it ever falls down on them, there's nothing in this world I wouldn't do.

This woman makes a damn good point.

It fills me with anger that so few people realise how true this is.

Protests Unheard.

Dear Friends,

I read an article about the march that took place against austerity measures, at which individuals such as Russell Brand spoke against austerity, the government and other major National issues. What hit me most, however, were the comments.

Most of the commentators complained about Brand, which I think was a little unfair. They complained that his time and money could be better spent elsewhere - perhaps he should give a chunk of his money to charity, they suggested. Seems like a fair argument, right? Except giving to a charity, whilst wonderful, would not necessarily benefit the people that he is trying to help. There is no real charity for impoverished Britons. The only institution that could be called a charity for us is the British Government, but they have instead turned their back and angered us into protestation. The commentators also argued that Russell Brand just wanted the publicity, which I think was irrelevant. Regardless of his motives, his involvement is raising awareness of important issues. That should be what matters.

Other commentators called this a 'march of idiots'. That, I think, is possibly the most frustrating of all. It seems that we cannot fight for what we believe in without being told that we are foolish and simply wrong. The cynics in this country outnumber the activists. Everyone is angry, and most people care, but very few are fighting for what they want. Others are too tired to be angry, or too ignorant of the suffering in their own country. But maybe the cynics are right. It doesn't matter how many people protest, nor how hard, those in power do not listen. Fracking is possibly one of the most idiotic ideas so far, but all the protests were ignored and it will go ahead. I dream of the day when people with common sense are given power in this country and retain that common sense.

It's even worse if the protesters are young. Then people talk about 'youth culture', 'lack of experience', and so forth. We can't do anything right. We protested about the raise of tuition fees, peacefully. Then the Liberal Democrats ignored the people who got them into power and changed the main policy that they were voted in for. Thus we learn that when we protest peacefully, although by no means quietly, nothing changes. We also learn, again, that we cannot trust a politician to keep his promises. Then a few of us protest less peacefully, and the whole generation is cast as thugs. At least people noticed that protest. But, did anything change? Of course not. Because more attention was given to the outlet of anger than the reason. We write, we sing, we shout, we scream, we burn. Nothing changes. 

We are ignored because we are young and just 'don't understand', but then by the time we grow up our passion is gone. We are too tired to fight, there are too many other things to do, someone else will do it. How can we ever win in a world where no one listens to the impassioned, especially if they are young, if they are female, or if they are right. No one asks why people are angry, they just ignore or criticise.

The condition of indifference is spreading, taking hold earlier and relinquishing only a few from its grip.


Doing the right thing isn't cool any more. When people ask why I am a vegetarian I almost feel like I have to justify myself. I'm told that I am not a feminist because I want equality and don't hate men. My mother tells me that now is the time to fight for what I believe in, yet the rest of the world tells me that I am too young to make a difference, I have no experience, I know nothing.



I'll tell you what I know. I know how it feels to cry in front of my mentor because we couldn't afford the bus fare, which by the way was £1.70. I know how it feels to sit in an RE class while people slander those on benefits because they don't understand that people can have a job, work hard, and be an important member of society whilst on benefits. I know how it feels to go home and wonder if we have enough food for the week despite those benefits. I know how it feels to believe that my life is worth nothing, my body not worth feeding, because I believed I could do nothing with it. I know how it feels to have nearly not been here, then to be wrenched back to life and have to be taught that I can smile, breathe, and dream. I know how it feels to hear mental illnesses mocked and used as adjectives by my peers. I know how it feels, as does every woman, to walk home alone full of terror with my keys between my fingers because if someone attacks me it will be my fault.

I don't know how it feels to be discriminated against because of my the colour of my skin, my sexuality, my religion or my background. I am lucky in that respect. I still know it isn't fair. As do millions of others who fight for others as well as themselves. The unfortunate part is that there is still something to fight about. Why shouldn't everyone be equal? What is wrong with a world where everything is shared so that no one goes hungry, wherever they live? We live in a world where many people are more shocked by two gay men or women kissing than world hunger.

Things must change. Just because most protests go unheard doesn't mean we shouldn't try. Even though I might not make a difference, I will protest until my throat burns dry and my keyboard is broken. We each have our own talents. If we want to change the world, we have to use those talents to change the world ourselves. God knows nobody else will do it for us.

What is so wrong with love that we must teach hate?

My best friends.

Dear friends,

I have two best friends in this world, and today I was finally reunited with my William! Very, very happy. That kid is just something else. We chatted for a while, he practised his magic tricks on me (very cool, and it seems I am very gullible...) and taught me poker, we got ice cream, and then I finally got to hear him sing again when we met some friends busking and he was asked to join in. He has a lovely voice and they were playing some excellent songs so I had a thoroughly enjoyable time chilling and listening to them in the sun.
I'd missed him so much, and am so glad that distance has not ruined our friendship but strengthened it.
Whilst we were talking today he commented that he 'completes' me, and I realised that he was right. After seeing him I no longer feel like half of a whole.

Now I just need to see Cheryl and I will have been reunited with my best two <3

Desk lamps

http://www.boredpanda.com/exotic-gourd-lamps-by-calabarte/

This is how I imagine the concept of a person 'lighting up your life'.

Everyone is different, so their light would be different, not just the classic IKEA desk lamp's singularly styled gaze. Everyone who ever lit up my life in some way shone their own distinct light pattern on it.

Perhaps the cool effervescent light of a human soul -already glowing in its own pattern - is actually marked, although not marred, by the light patterns of other souls that touched it.

Pretty cool, huh?

Besides all that philosophical crap those lamps really are damn interesting.

The old and the new.

Dear Friends,
(That greeting seems to be becoming a thing. Not yet sure if I like it, but will extend the trial a little further).
Today has seen a few firsts, including first experiences of changed things, and some simple old things/loves.
Firstly, I had my first ever interview today! Muchos excitement, I know. I was surprised to find that I felt more confidence than nervousness (although nerves were definitely present), and I think that's probably a good thing. The interviewer seemed to like it anyway. He was pretty cool and vastly improved the whole experience for both of us by being friendly and honest, and I remain hopeful because he gave me good feedback. All in all, whether or not I actually get the job, a good new experience!
Whilst in town post-interview I went to get my helix piercing changed for a smaller size, and simultaneously met up with an old school friend. It was slightly strange to see an old friend like him under new circumstances, but it was actually quite nice. We were interested in the directions the other had taken, but not over-interested in a way that some old friends can be when you meet for the first time after a year or two and they want to know everything that has happened to you. It was chilled, and it was fine, and I probably wouldn't mind meeting up for a catch up again.
Later in the day, I saw another familiar face in a new situation: George, as a friend. It was a little odd to chat with him without the relationship context, but it was actually (to be honest, surprisingly) nice to see him and talk alone for a little while, as our only communications since breaking up had been a few short text messages. I also saw his parents, which was painful because I absolutely adore them and am still sad to have let go of the privilege of calling them my 'second parents'. But George and I are both okay, neither of us regretting the decision to end the relationship but rather respecting it, and seem to have no negative feelings towards one another.
Since coming home, I have mostly just been continuing to reread The Fault In Our Stars by John Green, which continues to be as brilliant as I remember. Another oldie in a new context. I do understand some of it slightly better than when I read it roughly two years (?) ago, and appreciate the fantastic writing/language even more than I did the first time, which is saying something. I swear to god I have more sticky notes and scraps of paper marking this book than any other book I have ever read. But I can't help myself, because there is at least one delicious sentence on every single page of this wonderful book. I cannot recommend it enough. As I told my mum this evening: such an abundance of pink sticky notes is a sure sign of my love.
I also had a conversation with mum's new lodger this evening, and never before has the statement that 'books recommend people' been more true. The woman loves Shakespeare, and like me mistrusts people who say that they do not read, or do not carry books with them in some form. She studied and later taught English, and just totally understands my book feels. Incredible! Mum sure picks people well.

I am now typing this in bed, and, once I have tired my eyes with reading, will be off to sleep. All this has made for a rather exhausting day. Sleep well, friends. Dream magnificent dreams.

Year One

Dear friends,

My first year at Keele University is at its end, and it truly has been an extraordinary year. I've fallen in love with this place, and the people I have come to know since September. I've loved my lectures, finally being able to solely focus on the subject I love with like-minded people who actually damn well want to be here. I have been in walking distance of a beautiful Hall and its woodlands, alongside the countless coffee shops, bars, and general hubbub of Uni life. It'll be weird to live off campus next year and be further away from it all. I'll miss the woods, but I can't wait to put some distance between myself and drunken students keeping us all up at 4am!

The people that tell you that you find out who your real friends are when you go to university are right, but I am happy to be left with the people who stayed. I have also gained some brilliant friends that I am privileged to have shared this year with. Hopefully I'll see some of them over the summer, although a few of them are slightly further out of reach.

I can't believe how lucky I've been to meet such brilliant friends. Sam and Rachel, my neighbouring couple, are currently chilling with me in Rachel's bed watching Criminal Minds with ice cream, chocolate, the lot. And we do this alllll the time <3 Besides that they are quite simply wonderful crazy friends. Yas is crazy adorable and understanding. Becky and I are on exactly the same wavelength, all the time, and she writes, and is a feminist and luuurves Rocky Horror as much as I do. Shy also writes and is this super cute, crazy little hip hop freak. Danielle is so cute, loud, funny, and always lovely. Ian is on my wavelength in ways other people rarely are. Nick, Charles and Phil are all totally different but equally talented writers whom I have been privileged to know as my colleagues in classes this year. It is amazing to know that during my first year at University I have been surrounded by people who genuinely get me, are super caring, super fun, and just brilliant in their own little ways. They all bring out the best parts of me, and have all changed me (I believe for the better) in little ways.

So things have changed, and I have changed. Sometimes that has been damn painful, but hopefully always for the better.

My relationship with my father basically disintegrated this year, and after so many years of trying to fix it I think its about time we both gave up. I appreciate that he has tried to be a great dad and always stay in contact with me, and that we have had some great times together, but I also know that we cannot keep pretending. We just don't work. We don't get on and I find it hard to believe that we ever will. I will never accept the way he speaks about and treats my mother or my brothers. I will try to forgive but will never forget the pain and anger I see in their eyes when I mention my dad, or when I tell them that we fought again. The pain a person causes your loved ones is something you never stop seeing when you have seen it once, even if you have all tried to forgive and forget for each other's sake. While my dad has never been truly awful to me, he still had a constant, irrevocable ability to make me feel awful about myself, and that is the kind of damaging relationship that needs walking away from.

My relationship with George has also ended, and I am honestly a little nervous to go home and see what life without him is like. It's easier here because George was rarely at Uni with me, but I know that when I go home there will be memories like ghosts haunting every place I knew with him. It's been a long time since I did home life single, and that scares me bit. I think that's when it will hit me and hurt, but for now I am in limbo. I have banned myself from dating until I get back to Uni in October, because I definitely need time to recuperate and figure out who this woman is that I am becoming.

I've changed in many ways as well. I have learned the enormous benefits of taking risks and finally throwing myself into the things that are important to me. I have performed on a goddamned stage with the rest of the dance society, facing my fears and taking on a challenge that I had always fearfully avoided before now. I would never have done that before university. I am more accepting of myself now: I'm aware that my good parts and my flaws are all just part of me; if other people can love me for who I am with all that included, why shouldn't I? I smile more now, at others and at things. Smiling is good, I've found. As are meditation, yoga and walking, all of which help me keep my balance. The confident, adventurous side of myself (a family trait that I always envied my brother for exuding) has definitely come out, and I am continually excited at the prospect of adventure, of novelties, and of exploration.

If my first year at University has taught me anything at all, it has taught me this: I CAN do anything! If I want it and fight for it enough, I just can! How amazing and magical is that?

After all that I've been through, all the people that I have met and that I have loved, all that has happened and all that I have done, I really believe in magic. I believe in magic that comes from sharing your life with extraordinary people, taking risks and noticing the little things as well as the big ones.

The woman that made my tea on Thursday gave me a genuine smile, I have my books, and life will continue to be beautiful, and that is what got me through sitting at the Thursday table alone for the first time since January.

Of course I still have sad days, but I know that those days always pass because this is the kind of sad that just takes time. My friends and my experiences this year make those days a hell of a lot easier to get through, and even the good days are better now.

I will be home with my mum very soon, and I cannot wait for whatever this summer might bring.

Woah.

http://distanceandchanges.tumblr.com/post/87713676588/halloweenrose-otheranonymous

Say What You Want To Say

Dear Friends,
It seems nonsensical, doesn't it, that a person would need to be told that they can say what they want to say. Surely we all do that anyway?
We really, really don't. Especially if we are English, and thus supremely reserved. Ridiculous as it sounds, people do not just say what they really want to say. That's a simple, well-known and forever disappointing fact. The real question is why.
Often, it's because we are afraid of the consequences of doing what we want and saying what we want - we might get hurt, laughed at, etc. But really, is there anything to be afraid of? Sure, sometimes people just might think you are a bit weird and you might regret it a little bit. But what about the times when you say something you wanted to say, although you weren't sure you should, and something great happens?
I met a guy who had this extraordinary ability to negate all of my inhibitions. I would literally just say whatever the fuck was on my mind when I was with him, even though sometimes that terrified me. My argument to myself was: what have I got to lose? Instead of losing anything, I gained so much, because only good things ever followed my saying what I wanted to say. He didn't judge me, he listened and often agreed with or even loved what I had to say. Hell, once he even kissed me for it. Sure, sometimes in other circumstances I've spoken my mind and it sucked a little bit because I was embarrassed. But the majority of the time, whoever I'm talking to, it's the best and right thing to do, and good things have come of it. So in my experience, the things we stand to gain from being brave and saying what we want to say far outweigh the fears of damaged pride if it doesn't go our way.
Sometimes, saying what we want can have bigger consequences. It can change someone's life, or change the world. If you don't like the way someone is being treated, how about you be the person that speaks up even though it's scary?
My favourite people on TV are actually a couple of news-reporters. There's this one guy on Channel Four News that always asks proper questions that make the asshole he's interviewing squirm. He doesn't say what anybody else wants him to say, he says what he wants to, and it's bloody brilliant to watch.
So if speaking out can be such a good thing, why the hell, people, are you all keeping your mouths shut when you have something you want to say??
Just say it. Because if you want to say it that badly, but are afraid to, it probably needs to be said.

Stay a Little Longer

It takes quite a lot out of you to say goodbye sometimes. I've been told before that saying goodbye is easier with people you haven't known long because you apparently don't care as much. Calling bullshit on that one.

On Thursday I said goodbye to a group of people that I have grown incredibly fond of this past semester, two of whom I have known since February and the rest I only met a few weeks ago. By no-one's terms was that easy. The two that I've known longer were particularly difficult. They were all going home to America, back to their home universities, so we had dinner together to mark the last night of their semester of study abroad. Obviously, therefore, it is quite a stretch to go and visit (although I do plan to), and this goodbye felt much more permanent than some. I wanted to beg them to stay, to never leave, to have one more drink and one more memory. Obviously I couldn't.

Warning: There will be lots of songs in this post, with lyrics that mean a lot. Words are my favourite thing in the world, so this post will contain a lot of them and not all will be mine although they say what I don't know how to. For example:

Brother's Osborne - Stay a Little Longer

I held it together pretty well when we actually said goodbye, although I was a little teary. When I got back, however, I collapsed onto my bed and cried for a good long time. At one point it felt like my ribcage was being torn down the centre by a bolt of lightning. I couldn't actually tell if I wanted to cry, sleep or throw up.

Big reaction for people I met less than a year ago, right?
You see, it doesn't take very long for someone to matter.

The thing is, I don't mind that it tore me apart, because I know that just means that I made true friends and have had such a beautiful time. To quote John Green: 'It hurts because it mattered.'

Some people come into your life and stay for a long time, other encounters may be fleeting, but I do not believe that this makes them any less extraordinary. When you part with someone who matters, especially if it feels much too soon, it can feel like you are wrenched apart and left with a scar or a mark. A mark like that, a memory, allows the permanence of something that is now gone. You may forget the details or the specific words the stranger said, but you are changed by what they said or did or who they were, and that is something that cannot be undone.

Meeting this group of people changed who I am in little, important ways. I'm less afraid now in many ways. I take risks - some I probably shouldn't like running along high walls and getting lost in the woods. But now that I'm done saying goodbye, I have decided to start saying hello. If I hadn't taken the risk of talking to this random guy I didn't know, and spending time with a group of people in which those that I didn't know vastly outnumbered those that I did, I wouldn't have the friendships that I do now, or have had all that fun. So now I finish my first year at University having experienced some extraordinary things and some less cool ones and having met a vast array of people. I leave with the confidence and intent to go out into the world, start saying hello more, and have an adventure.

I don't remember the specific words he used, although I wish I did, but an extraordinary man once told me that we are all made up of the people we meet. It doesn't matter how long we were with them, or how big a piece they take up, they all still matter. The people that I am made up of, I treasure. Especially the ones that continue to shape who I am to this day, whom I will go home to in a week or two to drink, dance and build sofa forts. I will at least be able to see some of the Americans in September, if I manage to get my act together and buy my tickets over there, although I don't know how they feel about sofa forts.

For now our time is up, and although parting was awful and tore me in two like a lightning bolt, I am actually happy. I will treasure the wonderful mark that has been left on my life, and the memories of the time that we did have.

This grid of photos and the photos below are from a super cool day we all had together on Keele lawn in the sun. We also had a bonfire in Keele woods in the evening. Great day, great memories, great changes.

To Ian and Danielle, my gorgeous lovebuggs: I love you, I miss you, and I am grateful for you and everything you have given me. You are both astonishing people, hopefully that is something you'll never forget. Enjoy telling our stories. I look forward to hearing your own when I see you again.

To all of my far off friends: Keep being crazy wonderful people, and thank you so much for letting me into your midst!

Ian. I've decided: I think I'd be a bird too. The kind that won't shut up with its singing, that perches right at the top of the tree so I can take it all in, even though it must be scary to be that high. You never know, maybe one day I'd get to fly next to you again. Although you'd probably be the cooler, infamous bird that has seen so many more places than the rest of us, as per.

News:

Personal:
George and I have mutually decided to end our relationship. We are no longer suited to be together in that way, but this summer we hope to try to be friends. I feel weird, but I know that it is the right thing to do, and so does he. We still care about one another, but not in the same way. So I'm okay, and so is he, and we couldn't have asked for a better break up. It could have, and possibly should have, been much worse. But there was too much happiness in our relationship for us to ever let it end with pain to mar the memories.

National:
UKIP are gaining power, proving the ignorance and perhaps the fatigue of this country.
Gove, the fool, has decided to remove novels of American canon from the National syllabus and focus on British pre-20th Century Literature. I cannot express my frustration with the fact that many students will now be put off studying literature, and those who do will not learn about the history and vibrancy of another country and its words. Words are so powerful, it is a great shame to limit those that are read.

Hunting Season

I promised I'd put my short story up once I'd submitted it, so here you are:

Hunting Season
“Just jump you great tit!” Luka called up in a whisper.
Alek frowned down at Luka and held a finger to his own lips. “Shut it you. There is an art to this.” Luka sighed with impatience as Alek slipped back into the second floor bathroom of their friend’s house to apply ‘finishing touches’, whatever they might be. Luka leaned against the neighbour’s wall, taking care to stay out of the view of the living room window, lighting a cigarette and watching the sky change as the white clouds that drifted above the skyline merged and reformed into a mass. Their brief reprisal from the heavy snow of a Russian new year would be over very soon.
“How the hell does it take a person that long to get ready?” Eva giggled quietly next to him, breaking Luka out of his reverie.
“We could ask the same about you, darling.” Irina muttered playfully, earning an offended scoff from her girlfriend and a shove for her trouble.
Luka rolled his eyes. “Careful, he’ll hear you and we’ll never hear the end of it.” He muttered, gesturing up at the window in which Alek’s head had just reappeared. Luka watched as Alek scaled the tree next to the window, dropping to the ground in front of him irritatingly unruffled.
Casting a glance down each direction of the alley, Alek grabbed Luka’s hand and planted a brief, fierce kiss on his lips. When Alek released him Luka looked around worriedly and pulled away from him, linking arms with Irina and striding down the alley in the direction of their apartment block. Alek sighed and loped after them, squeezing himself between Luka and Eva and linking arms with them both. Luka wriggled with discomfort but Alek caught his arm and pulled him to a halt. “What, so now I can’t kiss you?”
“Not in public, I don’t want to risk getting caught.” Luka said as the two girls walked on ahead to give them some space.
Frowning, Alek almost growled with frustration. “There weren’t any children around, so I don’t see why I can’t kiss the man I love.” He paused, shaking his head to cast out the negativity. “Am I not hot enough now for you or something? I mean, how high can your standards be?”
Luka attempted to repress a grin. “Careful with that ego or your head will get trapped even further up your ass.” He snickered. Alek gave an outraged gasp, playfully pushing Luka and sending him tumbling into the small fountain in the courtyard of their apartment block.
“Well, great. Now I’m angry.” Luka said, wiping his hair from his eyes and holding up a now very soggy cigarette. “You killed it!” He laughed, attempting to push himself back up. Alek feigned helping but pushed Luka into the water again, dancing off out of his reach. “I’ll get you for that!” Luka yelled, lurching out of the fountain and chasing after his lover. They ran in dizzying circles around the fountain, darting side to side, before Alek caught up with Luka and pinned him down, kissing him into submission.
“Hey lovebirds, stop trying to get us arrested!” Eva called over, waiting for them in the apartment building's door. For once they had reason to be grateful that their persistently useless doorman was fast asleep. Making apologetic faces at Eva, the pair stumbled up from the ground and followed the girls inside. “Your apartment or ours?” she asked, reaching for Irina’s hand in the safe cage of the lift.
Alek raised his eyebrows at Luka, who gave a shrug and pressed the button for their floor. “We have better wine.” Alek explained to the girls with a wink, avoiding Eva’s riled shove.
Barely an hour later, when they had all settled into the living room of Alek and Luka’s apartment, a tipsy Eva admitted that their wine was indeed much better. Alek sat with Eva on the floor, marvelling at her low alcohol tolerance, while Luka and Irina watched from the bookshelf by the window. They had been chuckling together as Luka tried to dry himself off, but Irina had begun to frown, and they now stood in silence. After a few moments, when Alek and Eva had noticed the quiet seriousness in the corner, silence fell across the room. Irina declared that she and Eva had something important to announce: “We’re leaving.” She said.
Luka automatically reached a hand down to Alek in shock. “Here? St Petersburg? What do you mean?” he asked.
Irina shook her head apologetically. “The country.”
“What?” Alek and Luka gasped, staring at their two friends. “Why?” Alek asked.
Irina moved to sit down next to Eva, holding her hand tightly. “When we went to the film festival, someone from those hate gangs was handing out gift bags with rope and soap inside, pretending they were gifts from the organisers. We realised what it was and refused to take them, but it was still horrible. The festival was cancelled half way through because of a bomb threat, and when we got home we found Mariya crying with her babysitter. She’d been sent a video online of a priest saying that gay people are spiritually and mentally unsound. When we watched it after putting the children to bed, Eva said-”
“I said maybe he is right.” Eva interrupted, sobered, with her lips pressed in a tight line. Alek and Luka murmured with sympathy, too shocked to respond. Irina ran her hand through Eva’s curly brown hair, gently pulling her head down to rest on her shoulder.
“So we’re leaving before they brainwash our family. We have the girls to think about – we can’t just stay and wait for them to be taken away from us when the new legislation goes through.” Irina said, gritting her teeth against the pain and fear visible in her eyes. Luka reached out a hand to her and she smiled gratefully, taking it in her own. “We want you to come with us.” She said, and Eva raised her head to nod in agreement. “We know that you will need to talk about it, but we have the tickets ready to book. Our friend Katia and her husband have been helping us organise it all but we can’t leave without asking you to come with us.”
Luka almost agreed there and then, but looked across at Alek first. Seeing his uncertainty Luka excused them both, pulling the door shut as they stepped inside the kitchen and hid their discussion in the noise of clearing away the dirty crockery. They emerged after what seemed like much longer than a few minutes, and the girls took their leave before the babysitter started charging overtime.
A few hours after the girls had left Alek and Luka lay on the sofa, limbs gracefully overlapping, as Luka traced the pattern of Alek’s veins lightly with his fingertip. Behind him, Alek used his free arm to text Eva. ‘When are our flights?’
*
“What on earth is she doing?” Luka asked bemusedly as he watched the window of the apartment opposite a month later, with his usual four o’clock coffee in hand. The woman had stopped in the window, barely moving for at least a minute, when moments ago she had been her usual bustling self.
“Maybe she’s watching us.” Alek muttered from the floor, leaning into Luka’s hand as it moved from the tangles of his dark hair to trace the sharp line of his cheekbone. “Maybe she isn’t the only one.” He added quietly after a pause, scratching the wooden floorboard with his fingernail. Luka turned and dropped his back to the wall beside the window, allowing his body to slide down next to Alek’s.
“Please don’t talk like that; you make us sound like someone’s prey.” Luka sighed, resting his head in the nook between Alek’s neck and shoulder and placing his mug on the coffee table. After a long pause, Alek reached for the newspaper that had arrived from America that day, and which he had promptly stowed under the sofa when Luka came home.
“My sister sent me the American paper she likes today.” He said quietly, holding it towards him. Luka smiled in response but quickly pulled the paper from Alek’s hands when he saw the headline. Alek watched Luka’s smile drop as he read about the gangs tricking people like them into meeting and then forcing them to suffer abuse on camera. “One of them was Dimitri.” Alek added.
Luka froze in shock and Alek pulled him closer, wrapping his arm around his shoulders and removing the newspaper so that Luka didn’t have to see it. He held Luka until the shaking subsided, and he knew the initial shock had passed. “We’re lucky Eva and Irina are taking us to England with them.” Luka said weakly. There was a pause.
“One last date night here tomorrow, and then we’re gone.” Alek agreed.
“Date night?” Luka asked, startled.
“It’s the Winter Olympics opening ceremony tomorrow, the perfect day to protest. We have to!” Alek finished, slightly less gently than he had intended and Luka stared at him in horror.
“No, this is why it is too dangerous!” Luka exclaimed. “The security is going to be ten times higher than usual, and you’ve already almost been caught and arrested twice when there were only two of you being peaceful on the streets.” He stood up and paced away from the window. “Besides, a protest isn’t the kind of date night I signed up for – what ever happened to dinner at a nice restaurant?”
“Surely you can’t just expect me to go to dinner and pretend everything is okay instead of fighting for the very right to be with you in public anyway?” Alek snapped, rising so quickly that Luka almost flinched, but instead backed away to rest his hand on the ancient burgundy leather sofa for support.
A thick silence hung in the room for a moment as they stared each other down, Alek shaking with hot-headed anger while Luka took deep breaths to calm himself. Luka walked to the window, resting his hands on the small wooden ledge and staring out into the darkening street. He shivered with a no longer irrational fear and sighed sadly. “The danger is the whole reason we agreed to go, Alek. If being able to be with me matters so much that you want to risk being arrested then why won’t you just be with me? Ignore the law and come and have dinner with me, like a couple should. Why can’t we let that be protest enough?” Luka said.
“Because I am sick and tired of living in fear that these people could be two steps behind me. Or us.” Alek brandished the newspaper between them, stabbing the headline with his finger and throwing the newspaper to the ground. He said the last words with bitter disgust, bile rising in his throat at the thought. “I’m done with feeling hunted in my own home. The law is so vague that they can target us for anything, and they aren’t just going to stop when we leave. The least I can do is stand next to my friends in one last protest before we abandon them all and skip off into another country’s sunset.” Alek said with disgust, storming over to the window beside Luka.
“Leaving has to be enough. I don’t want to live my life without you, but I will try if you force me to. There’s no – there’s no future for us here anyway.” Luka stammered breathlessly, a pain in his throat as he clenched against sobs. He had gone too far, and he watched Alek take a step back away from him in shock. Luka whirled around and fled to their bedroom, tripping on the bed covers that had fallen to the floor and letting his body collapse to the ground as the fear took over. Alek backed away from the window, his mouth agape as a dry sickness crept up his throat. Struggling to breathe, he turned and stormed out into the night.
Luka stayed where he was, trapped by fear and frustration. His own silence was so loud that he didn’t notice Alek approach an hour later until he had wrapped his arms around Luka and held him tightly. “I’m so sorry, Luka.” Alek whispered, rocking his lover gently in his arms and allowing the snowflakes in his hair to melt down his hot skin. “I’m just scared for our friends.” He lifted his hand and ran his fingers through the soft blonde locks of Luka’s hair, feeling the tension in Luka’s body dissipate slowly. Luka shrugged Alek’s arms away and pulled himself onto the bed, curling up with his hands under the duck-egg-blue pillow.
“Did you ever think that, just maybe, I’m scared for us?” Luka replied. Alek lay down next to him, moving closer so he could listen. “Sure, you could go to the protest and come back in time for dinner. But what happens if you get arrested? Then you don’t just miss dinner but you won’t be allowed to leave the country for however long. Or what if someone from those gangs sees you and follows you here? There’s just too much at risk this time.” Luka pleaded earnestly, placing a hand on Alek’s cheek and searching his eyes for emotion. For a moment they just lay there in peace, Luka watching the emotions change in Alek’s eyes the way that the colours of the sky change from glittering yellows to gold-orange at sunset. Alek looked back at him and sighed, shuffling himself closer to Luka and planting a kiss on his dry lips.
“You’re right, I shouldn’t and won’t go. We’re done being hunted.” Alek said finally, and Luka sighed with relief and thanked him, pressing their foreheads together. Exhausted, the pair curved their bodies around each other and fell asleep as they were, Alek’s hair still dripping with the coldness of the outside world.
*
The next morning, before they left for work as usual, Alek zipped his fingers into Luka’s. “I’ll be there.” Alek had promised, before locking their lips together as if throwing away a key.
That evening, Luka leant against the wall in the cool February air, watching the smoke from his cigarette curl up into the mist and drift above the heads of the people passing by. He flicked the lighter and watched the flame burn the way that Alek’s amber eyes did. It spluttered and went out.
Alek rarely missed anything, but today he was late. Luka allowed himself to be distracted by the cold air on his cheeks, the tacky theatre signs, and the young couple laughing too loudly as they stumbled past, already drunk. Alek would be there soon.
Luka waited to call until Alek was half an hour late and the waiter was threatening to give up the table to the procession of couples forming a queue in the light snowfall. He stopped trying after twenty two missed calls. After being barged into again Luka folded himself into a safe corner by the restaurant doors and told the waiter to let the table go. He muttered Alek’s name into the air, twisting his red cashmere scarf and toying with a burnt-out cigarette. Alek wasn’t coming.
When he had been standing in the cold for at least an hour longer than he should reasonably have waited, and saw the fireworks popping from people’s gardens to mark the start of the opening ceremony, Luka gave up. For once, he was too angry to feel the unfriendly gaze of the city stalk him as he walked home. He was ready to shout at Alek when he opened the front door, but when he walked in he found the living room disappointingly empty. There was no sign that Alek had been home at all that day; the apartment as empty as it had been when he left it almost nine hours ago. The breakfast plates still sat stacked in the sink, littered with pancake crumbs, and Alek had forgotten to put the frying pan in soak again. Frowning, Luka pulled off his boots and returned to the front room, placing them on the shoe rack and picking up the television remote on the way to the window.
He flicked through the channels until he hit one that was covering the news rather than the opening ceremony, and a familiar mop of dark red hair forced him to freeze in shock, his thumb hovering millimetres above the button on the remote. Luka watched as the news reporter confirmed that a group of men had been arrested in St Petersburg for holding up a banner in a peaceful protest. Behind her, Luka could see Alek being bundled into a police van with the other protestors, his expression unreadable.
Luka buckled at the knees as if shot, sinking to the floor like a wounded animal and retching at the emptiness in his chest.
Alek stood at the barred window of a detention cell some distance away, staring out into the darkness with regret. He crumbled a piece of stale bread past the bars and watched it fall like the memories of happy mornings with pancake crumbs dropping onto plates, disappearing out of reach. He gazed into the city as if expecting to see Luka at their window again, but instead saw only fireworks, sparks hanging momentarily in the sky before falling like a net onto the city, slowly closing in.