I Swear, This Time, I Mean It.

I was never the kind of girl to dream about her wedding, her future husband, her children… yet after being engaged for three months I’ve picked out a dress, a first dance and a flower bouquet.

But despite all of these grand plans for my future and the white wedding I never thought I wanted, but couldn’t want any more if I tried, I still don’t believe it’ll ever work out in my favour.

Fairytale endings just don’t happen, and whilst I’m happy to throw myself into planning for a ‘distant’ wedding, a part of me knows somehow that it’ll never happen. Boys as wonderful as him don’t end up with girls as screwed up as me. And the day he realises that is the day it all falls to pieces  xx

Three months later and, yet again, I’ve fallen behind on my promise to write more. It seems that my love of writing has been bruised by the volume of coursework and research I’m required to do for both uni and work now. That and the fact that just now, free time is something of a luxury as it nears the end of yet another semester…. but the last four weeks have been an absolute nightmare. So now more than anything I think I need a place to voice my emotions in the purest and simplest way I know how…

The love of my life that I spent the last post metaphorically picking out China patterns over? He cheated on me, twice, and has tried to break up with me a grand total of three times now. Whilst I appreciate that he has a lot of ‘emotional baggage’ so to speak - and who am I to judge? I do too! - I’m still not sure when, if ever, I’ll really be able to move past both of these things. Cheating on someone, breaking up with them, trying to blame mistakes that they’ve made in the past for your relationship’s demise… that isn’t the man I fell in love with. No matter what his reasoning behind it.

I believe that he loves me, and I believe that he never meant to hurt me. But when you love someone, no matter how painful certain topics are to bring up with them, you find a way to discuss your problems. You move on and you grow - together. You don’t throw away a relationship that you swear is ‘the best that’s ever happened to you’ or the only person you claim you could see yourself settling down with.

Truth be told, I’m hurting. I now have nightmares that he’s still cheating on me. I get a physical knot of anxiety in the pit of my stomach every time I hear he’s going out drinking with his friends. Because it’s during those times that he breaks my heart the hardest… and can I really spend the rest of my life feeling that way?

As I said to him on Saturday night after he’d drunkenly begged for my forgiveness again - I’m just not sure how much I have left to give anymore. I’ve spent the last month beaten down by boyfriend trauma, a mountain of coursework, mounting pressure at work and the death of my gran (yes, the very same woman from the last post). I’m just not sure how much fire I have left inside - and I’m honestly not sure if even that could  be enough to get me by.

I’d heard the age-old saying that ‘we always hurt the ones we love’ - but why? Why hurt the people who’ve offered to give us everything? Who’ve put their own needs aside to give us what we want and need most? I know that in the past I’ve hurt those close to me too, and I’ve never been able to reason why I’d done it or why it happened. But I would never hurt someone I loved in the way that I’ve been hurt by my other half lately. And that’s slowly but surely starting to chip away at what’s left of my already fragmented, fragile heart.

xXx

Well it’s 2011 now and I never kept last year’s promise to start writing again… so I want to give it my best attempt this time around. After spending an afternoon deleting the younger version of myself (reflected in precisely 3 Myspace pages, 1 Faceparty, 3 Livejournals and 1 Blogspot) something stopped me from deleting this, my last possible outlet for my emotions, too.

So it can stay, for now, because sometimes in life we all need a place to vent. I have however changed my picture, information and any previous posts that may have given away my identity, in order to remain anonymous… it’s best this way, I’m more free to say how I really feel. Plus, some days I feel very Carrie Bradshaw when I’m writing so I thought that making her my avatar was only fitting!

You might be wondering what I’ve been doing with my life since I haven’t been posting here or making much use of the internet at all recently… this would be a shock to those who used to know me because back in the day I was something of an internet junkie! Either way if you were to ask me what I’d been up to, this is what I would tell you:-

First off, I’m in love. Not just a little bit, not just ‘puppy love’, no this is the real thing. We’ve talked of marriage, children and the stereotypical white picket fence. All the things I had previously never allowed myself to want because having them meant becoming too involved, a notoriously bad word for as long as I can remember. Once you’ve let yourself become too involved with someone who actually matters you’ve given them the ammunition they need to break your heart, which is why for a long time I might’ve kissed but I always refused to give my heart away.

The ironic thing is that the man I’m so in love with is also the very same boy who first broke my heart three years ago… it’s funny how life always has a way of surprising you I guess. But alas, things are never quite as perfect as they seem and whilst we’re blissfully happy together for now, my man dreams of joining the intelligence section of the army. Whilst I never approved of this before - due to my belief that so many of the soldiers who join the army end up as nothing more than cannon fodder whilst we fight for something no one is entirely sure of - all I know is that I want to be with him more than anything. So his dream is my dream and if it’s what he wants I’ll do everything in my power to help him achieve it.

We have other bumps in the road that will need smoothing out at some point, but so does everyone! Truth be told, he’s my whole life and if for some reason we don’t go ahead with our plans to settle down and start a family? Then it’s safe to say that I never will, because he’s the only one for me. That might sound awfae melodramatic I know, but it’s true and I’ve known so since I was 17.

Other than being madly in love I’ve been working two jobs for the last 8 months, something I’ve only just cut down on within the last week or so. Yup - I am now down to just one job again! The money’s excellent, it’s experience within my chosen field of study and, hopefully, it’s also a first step on the way to my career as a ‘Powersuit Woman’!

I’ve just finished up with my exams for the semester as well, meaning that this week I’m off uni as well as only having one job. That can really only mean one thing…. telly in bed week ;D

My gran’s also not keeping too great, something which is upsetting for us all. Although at 91 years old that’s got to be expected! Still it was hard seeing my dad, as much as I may dislike him, so upset over her mental condition.

So there. I’ve summarised life and the changes that I’ve gone through within the last few months; I’ve set the scene for a number of discussion points that’ll undoubtedly come up in entries in the future and, most importantly, I’ve started writing again.

xXx

There was once was a girl - let’s call her K - who had spent her entire life living in a tower, overlooking the lives of her loved ones. She envied their seemingly carefree existence, their ability to let go of what was bad for them and welcome what was good with open arms. When her friends below the tower started to meet princes, she became green with jealousy; she had dreamt of finding a prince and living happily ever after from a young age, refusing to believe that fairytales did not come true.

One day a prince - let’s call him X - saw K looking down at all of her joyful friends, and the single tear that fell from her eye and trickled down the brickwork of the tower. X decided that he simply had to have K, to banish her tears and bring her the same joy she had envied for so long. And so X opened the door to the tower, and climbed to the very top, determined to claim his prize. Little did Prince X know that the door had been locked from the inside, as K had always been afraid of the world that existed outwith her room at the top of the tower. Not quite prepared to give up without a fight, X sat outside her door and begged her to let him enter. When she refused, as she had done to so many others in the past, instead of leaving the tower (as she’d expected him to do) he sat outside her door, and offered simply to keep her company for a while instead.

Over the weeks that passed, K learned that Prince X wasn’t like any of the other princes that had tried to lure her from the tower in the past. He wasn’t sleazy or crude. He genuinely cared for her and, as time continued to pass, K was shocked to learn that she looked forward to X’s daily visits to the tower. She admired his patience, for he had never again tried to coax her into leaving her hiding place. And though she fretted about it day and night, K finally decided that X was worth the risk of leaving her tower.

She waited until X had taken his usual spot outside her door, looked herself over in the mirror one final time, and unbolted the several locks that had kept her shut away for so long. When the door opened, X was momentarily stunned. K had sworn to him that she would never leave the tower, yet here she was standing in front of him in the most beautiful green satin dress that brought out the flecks of emerald in her cool grey eyes. He pulled her towards him in a typical fairytale kiss, and K thought her happily ever after was right around the corner..

Months passed and K started to picture X in her future. She had even begun to make arrangements to move out of the tower and into the lavish castle that Prince X resided in. K had never felt more joyful in all her life, preparing herself for a life that wasn’t shielded by the walls of the tower… That is, until one day Prince X did not come to the tower. ‘He must simply be busy back home at the castle’, thought K, ‘he’ll come for me tomorrow’. But tomorrow came and went, and the prince was nowhere to be seen. Despite the niggling doubts in the back of her mind, K was sure that X would come back to the tower soon. He had to.

Just as K was peeling back her duvet to crawl into bed that night, she heard someone knocking on the tower door. ‘That must be X!’ she cried, ‘but my, he’s terribly late’. She ran to the door and pulled it open, ready to throw her arms around X in welcome… Only to discover that it was not X, but one of the many servants employed within his castle. ‘Prince X asked me to deliver this to you, Miss’, he said, his tone flat and empty. ‘But, where is he? Why has he not called to visit? Is he ill?’, K’s voice had started steadily, but had quickly become shrill. ‘It’s all in the letter Miss’, the servant replied tiredly, and started down the spiral staircase.

With shaky hands, K slowly unfolded the scroll that contained the letter that would smash the life which she had come to adore, into pieces. It read:

K,
Whilst I have grown fond of you over the past few months, I am afraid that this just isn’t working for me anymore. I simply do not wish to be with you any longer and you will not be able to move into the castle, as previously planned.
Regards, X

As she read the last line, the first tear fell onto the scroll, blurring X’s final words to her. Realising this she began to dab at the scroll, desperate to hold on to what she had left of him, but only blotting the ink further, until the words were nothing more than a splodge of ink in the middle of the scroll. Seeing what she had done - from opening the tower door, to letting X into her life, and finally, destroying his final scroll to her - she fled to the window, where she had a clear view of the prince’s castle, and wept. And once again her torrent of tears trickled down the cracks in the brickwork, leaving a small pool of water at the bottom of the tower; it was only upon glancing down at this silvery pool, that K was suddenly struck with an idea which could prevent this kind of suffering in the future.

The next day, K shouted down to her friend S from the tower to ask for a favour. ‘Could you please ask a few people to help you build a moat around my tower, S? With a little bridge of course, to allow friends such as yourself to come and visit if you’d like… I’d appreciated it ever so much’. Without having to be told, S interpreted what had happened between K and X, as the last she knew her friend was due to move into the prince’s castle and live happily ever after. ‘Of course, K. I’ll ask you no questions about this, but if you need me simply call out your window and I will come’.

Later that day S and a few of K’s closest friends began to dig a moat around the tower, believing that K would change her mind after a few moments… She did not. Instead K stood and stared out of her window, watching the people she’d spent years keeping at arm’s length get closer to her than they’d ever been before, just by digging the moat that would help her keep them out. And with each shovel-ful of earth that was lifted from the ground, K shed another tear at the loneliness that plagued her and tried desperately not to think of how she would spend the rest of her life alone, without her prince…

x

My last entry made me sound terribly unhappy with my life… let me fix that first of all.

Whilst I was someone else entirely when I was with him, I’m a much better person without him. I’m far more well-rounded, spending more and more time with my friends every week. I work out more, which isn’t just helping me lose the weight I’ve spent my life being insecure about, but is also keeping me fit! I study harder, and generally try harder in all areas of my life. And whilst I’ll admit that being with him was the happiest time in my life, in many ways I’m happier now. With my social circle. With my career path. With myself.

And being able to pick yourself up after the steepest of falls, brush off your remains, and completely turn your life around? That takes real inner strength… and a bloody good support system. I think it was then that I realised my friends were the real source of my happiness. It’s not about the boy. Or envisioning your ‘happy ever after’. It’s about the people who’ll be there when the boy turns out to be a heartbreaker, or a liar, or a cheater.. And these past few weeks, I’ve really re-strengthened my bond with those people.

It’s largely down to them that I had one of the best weekends of my life, inspiring laughter so deep and real that it literally made my sides hurt. It’s down to their example that I pulled my head out of the clouds and patched things up with the boy I’ve wanted since I was 17. And then he helped make my weekend good too! As did a surprise visit from my brother, who I love more than anyone else in the whole world :)

I’m actually really happy with my life. Time to sit back, put my feet up and bloody enjoy it, I’d say!

xx

While listening to Motion City Soundtrack this afternoon I wondered about the complications involved in the metaphor, ‘every aching wound will cauterize and bruise’. I’d always figured that maybe they were onto something, that maybe time really did heal all wounds… But to what extent can any wound ever really be healed?

Even if the wound stops perpetually aching and, eventually, cauterizes what happens if we pick at the scab that’s left behind? Or push down upon the bruise? What if, somehow, we re-open the wound after it appears to be sealed?

This weekend I accidentally re-opened a wound I’d sewn up, bandaged and put to bed a long time ago. Well, it was actually my mother who first pulled the stitches out.. but instead of sewing them back into place I picked at the frayed ends, and watched my wound bleed and throb all over again.

It all started innocently enough. She’d received a work-call from his mum, who’s first name she’d forgotten to pick up. But she knew instantly who she was. He’d insisted our parents meet each other one night… one of those things I’d thought adorable at the time. It was when I, too, struggled to remember her name that the picking began.

I wracked my brain of all the times he’d mentioned her, trying to remember that name. And when I couldn’t? I done the unthinkable. I opened the msn chat logs, back from when we were happy, to find it.

I never did find a mention of her name, or remember what it was.
All I found was months worth of heartbreakingly beautiful compliments and the proof that I’d never cared for anyone the way I’d cared for him. And every time he called me beautiful, every time he’d said he missed me, every time we planned a weekend at his place… the wound pulsed, and throbbed, and threatened to pull me under all over again.

Tonight I deleted the msn chat logs and tucked my memories away in the corner of my mind I don’t visit often. I re-bandaged my wound, and vowed to never again pick at the stitches he left behind… Because life’s difficult enough without the constant reminder of the person I used to be, and the person I will never be again.

xx

It’s nice to be able to listen to this band now, without constantly thinking of the boy who loved them as much as I loved him.

x

I promised myself that I’d start writing again this year, no matter what the consequences; it’s taken a long time for me to realise that being open doesn’t necessarily make you weak… but that it also has the potential to make you stronger than you’ve ever been.

Here’s to 2010, and a fresh start…

x