2016

How crazy is it that i’m once again back here.

I will try and catch everyone up as fast as possible. I’m finally 18, in the university of Manchester, and having a good time.

Well, of course, if I was having such a good time I wouldn’t really be on here would I? It seems surreal reading over my last few posts and to realise how far I’ve actually come. I’ve overcome a lot of obstacles but there are still many in my way.

I’m in halls of residence at uni and i’ve made really good friends. Like super good – I don’t really know how i’ve managed to be so lucky. They’re the kinds of people who I used to look at from a far (who look proper popular) and you’d think to yourself ‘I could actually be really good friends with them – we’re so alike – but they’re just too cool for you’ even though that sounds like something I would’ve said in like year 8, it’s still true. And yet, now I am the one in the cool group, and I couldn’t be happier or more grateful for my friends.

I would have loved this post to be about telling all the hilarious stores in my first term at uni, and trust me, there are quite a lot, but i’ve noticed i never seem to write about the good stuff, so you’re all stuck with my overdramatic self. When was the last time i self harmed? When I think objectively I would have said years ago, when I still had my collection of razors mixed with some matches. However, that would be fooling myself. I was ill a few weeks ago and i remember having a fever, and when I was getting better i had that same feeling I used to have every day or wow, you’re looking skinny today. And it led to me basically not eating for three days – but you know what – I passed it off, I didn’t think about it again because I did start eating again and it didn’t count because I was ill. But that was definitely a lie. I wanted to starve myself again.

And then today. I don’t know what it is about being on my own. There’s only two ways it can go. I’m very comfortable by myself and have a relaxed time, or I get guilty i’m having such a good time on my own and wonder why I am not trying harder to accomplish something in my life? Today was definitely the latter. I was quite close to whacking one of my shaving razors to find a blade and cut myself again. But this time it was different. I don’t know what it was about today which made me realise that when i used to self harm it was definitely both because of self-hate and to seek attention – I know it was, I can see that now. But self harming for attention is just as bad – it’s a different sort of illness – one that seeks justification and sympathy or validation from others around you. And it’s a sickness.

This time however, i wanted to do it just because of self hate. It was quite strong actually. I sit in front of the mirror and honestly don’t see anything i like about myself. I can take selfies and as much as I protest to taking pictures in real life I think I know my angles – I am able to appreciate nice photos of me – because they do exist! I have lots of pictures where i think I look really nice in and I’ll put them on instagram or something. But when I look at myself fully, with ordinary lighting in an ordinary pose I can see myself as I truly am and I don’t like it one bit. And i wanted to hurt myself because of it.

And I was close. But the thing that stopped me this time was the thing that almost spurred me on to do it years ago – my friends reaction. Before, I didn’t do it for my friends attention, but I did imagine what it would be like if they found out how fucked up and broken I was – I used to imagine the attention and imagined it would bring me favouritism in some weird twisted way. This time, I imagined tommy finding out that I was self harming or starving myself and for a moment I lavished in the idea of this secret somehow bringing us closer, that we would somehow be even better friends and then i realised how stupid that was. That that was never going to happen, the only thing that would happen is it would change our friendship – ruin it even. It would probably become super awkward and we would never mention it again. And so I started crying in the mirror, half happy that this thought stopped me from self harming and half angry that it stopped me.

I don’t know what it is about me. I should be able to vent my feelings to my friends i.e. my self loathing and anxiety but I am unable to because of the attention. I think it is because I feel like i have a certain personality that I don’t want them to think I am broken, because i don’t want my friends acting different around me than they do each other. I don’t want to be different and i don’t want to be seen as fragile so I have to pretend. Maybe, if they knew i was so fucked up, they wouldn’t confide in me with their problems – like when Tommy tells me about his anxiety or Bea about her panic attacks – why don’t I tell them about mine? I think it is because I always compare myself to others. If i tell Tommy I also have anxiety and basically everything or Bea that I’ve also suffered from panic attacks i feel like I’m trying to steal their attention. Because in my mind everything is about attention. But that’s not why they’re telling me – they’re telling me to confide their issues to get advice or to just get it off their chest – but me? If I told them, i would feel like I’m what? Copying them? How stupid. I know they would appreciate my honesty, me actually telling them how i really feel, but i can’t seem to do it. I don’t even want to dye my hair red again because i think Frey will think I’m copying her and she’ll hate me for it.

I hate myself for thinking uni would change me. I’m still the same scared, lonely, antisocial girl I always was. Just in a different place. And in this place i don’t have my dogs to cuddle when i need it. And I can’t confide in my friends back home because I want them to continue believing I’m living in my fantasy – that I’m having the greatest days of my life. And not to make them jealous – but so that they don’t worry about me. Because god forbid anyone actually realises how depressed i am most of the time. God forbid they find out that privileged Helena has somehow still found a way to be miserable and desperate when she has everything going for her.

Wow, when I started this post I really wasn’t expecting to go in this deep. Didn’t think it would be this depressing, sorry.

 

 

 

 

Catch Up.

First things first, lets start with the good, shall we?

What I’ve learnt over the past year is that everyone under eighteen acts like an emotional wreck and all over dramatic all the time, and guess what, you’re no different. I used to think I was- not the only one with issues- but the only one who’s issues got in the way. Everyone has problems. Everyone makes mistakes and is a completely embarrassing idiot most of the time. And then you grow up a bit. And you start learning how to let things go, to separate the important from other stuff and to pick your fights and your grudges, and that generally, everyone are nice.

I have amazing friends. Some from before who have been with me through it all have also matured. My jealously has weakened as I realise that I cannot become someone else who I envy, because I am different, and at points, someone will have wanted what I had. I am proud of myself and my friends. My new friends are perfect too.

I know what I’m working towards. University. Leeds maybe? Geography. Third year abroad. Fun. My grades are fine, the most stupid thing I’ve noticed is that when I revise I do well- ground breaking- maybe you should note this down.

Things I’ve been looking forward to I’ve started experiencing. Adult life, parties, clubs alcohol. It brings you self confidence and stories to tell, and you make more friends and bond with the ones you already have.

Which bring me onto what I’ve learnt, once again. My limits. Because two Saturdays ago I went to a party and awoke in the hospital with an IV. We need to look after our bodies. Research some illnesses, if you’re sexually active, please research. I read on cosmopolitan that cold sores are the same infection as herpes. Why did I not know this, these are facts to understand!

You don’t need to go out every week. You can watch TV all day who acres, everyone else has these days. But go for a run and don’t snack. Ask yourself, am I actually hungry or bored? Don’t be afraid of talking to new people- what are they going to do? Literally everyone is nice, no one turns around and says rude comments or ignores you! I don’t know why I used to think that if I initiated contact I would immediately be rejected, it’s such a dumb idea. People are programmed to want to be nice, to want to make friends. Of course, it’s still hard to talk to people and I don’t do it often, but I’ll try.

I’ve been on lots of holidays. Portugal, France, Italy, and volunteering in Malaysia. I love to travel. I learn about myself.

I have learn that you can have more than one best friend.

Bad things are a very grey area. Regarding mostly my self confidence (which is still pretty low) mostly about my personality and anxiety issues and my appearance- but I’m working on it. Also gossip is becoming a bit of a problem in my group of friends- but when is it not.

I can honestly say I am fine with my life. It’s pretty neutral at the moment and I think I’d rather just go to university and leave home, but then again, the thought of leaving literally all my friends and moving north 5 hours away is enough to make me cry.

Hey ho, life goes on.

 

I’ve realised that every few post is me saying goodbye because it’s my final post. That is a joke because for some reason I can’t abandon my writings on here, and of course, you guys, because I am sure at least one person actually reads my posts. I guess from now on I’ve concluded that I’ll probably just end up on here every few months so whatever, and I’ll catch you up then. Lots is happening in my lif right now so… very exciting.

My Last Post.

Don’t let the title or my past posts fool you- this isn’t an overly dramatic last goodbye before my devastating suicide. Reading over my posts has got to be the definition of self cringe but I was also proud that little ‘ol me actually wrote her feelings down and managed to explain events pretty well. It’s just embarrassing you know?

This isn’t gonna be my usual ramble. I’m 17 now and definitely not depressed enough to keep ranting into this lame blog. All jokes aside though, when I was going through all this pain writing it really helped so… thanks. Of course not all insecurities go away and I still find myself in dark places every few weeks but other than that I’m pretty content 99% of the time.

I felt like I owed this blog a final goodbye I don’t know, I guess I didn’t want to leave it unfinished (unlike all my so- called novels). But I was thinking about starting a new blog and it would not be as dark as this but still personal and close to me so that will be fun. Like another chapter. I don’t really expect anyone to read this but if you happen to be just remember that everything really gets better and if you need a friend…

snapchat: lanetumosa

insta: hgrttn

tumblr: zukosmum

xoxox

Exams.

As I’m sure none of you are aware I have my GCSE’s in one week. The only problem (other than my worrying lack of stress) is that I have not started my revision. I had a plan in the winter holidays as well, I told myself that I’d have started before Easter Holidays, and truthfully thought that I would revise over Easter… but I didn’t.

It’s really dawning on me that I need to get an A in science to do Biology A-Level and it sucks because I can swing that for Biology, but I can’t get that for Physics and Chemistry. I can probably just swing my other subjects because I’m usually a pretty good student.

I really want to tell my dad about how stressed I am because I know that he could help because he’s actually a science teacher! And lots of my friends think I take him for granted- which I do, but it’s different asking help when they’re also your parent, and I don’t want to ask him for help, but I probably will.

Six days till my first exam, and I’d rather write a post about it here than start some actual revision!

Okay, like I said before my life is actually bright presently. Looking over some of my posts I feel like a teenage, hormonal, brat. Which of course I still am, but hopefully not as much. Though I did manage to write some truth and, if I may say so myself, some A+ advice which helped a few people.

Where was I? Ah yes, my life- good. So why am I back? Because I used to write about gossip, and over exaggerated drama, and all my 13 year old struggles which felt like a very big thing at the time but some of these posts are just plain embarrassing. Wow, I really do go off track easily. I’m back because I am still trying to write something. I have gone through so many ideas over the years and I figured out that the longest I stuck with a plot, is when I was writing everyday on this blog at the same time. So, of course, whenever I personally need advice (or before I make any kind of decision what-so-ever) I googled it. Arielle Ford wrote on Huffington Post that this was, in fact true. That writing anything everyday does improve your motivation to write what you actually want to write. And that is the story which led me to log back in to WordPress and write this overly long passage about why I am back… like I have said time and time again, I like to babble along.

Alas! This will not be a writing tips kind of blog because I really haven’t got the commitment to keep that up, but I do have a few more tricks up my sleeve for writing now I done a little research (or two hours worth, whatever). As always I love to chat, as you can imagine, so my ask section is open, so feel free to comment wherever and I will love to respond, I’ll probably refer to you as my best friend for a couple years. 

Wow, this blog is old. Like wow. But yes, people, I am still living and breathing in your midst and (possibly) dreams. I would have to say that the fact I haven’t needed to vent on here is a good thing but it’s still a shame seeing as I have made a few friends- well, I would count them as my friends, I’m not 100% sure on who I am to them. It’s been all good- very quiet- very boring (my life, I mean).

Just wanted to shout out because I think I might be sticking around for a while, so watch out, because when I start writing, sometimes I can’t stop. And sometimes it’s really boring.

Parties And The Aftermath.

I wonder how I should start this post, because, as I sit at my laptop in sports clothes absolutely soaked (with the addition of blood running down my wrist), I realise that it’s slightly hazy, over dramatic, and quite frankly stupid how I have reached this very moment. And, if you would bother to read on, I’ll explain what has happened over the past twenty five and a half hours.

I guess you could say I was excited. But you could also agree that I was terrified. From personal experiences, I’ve realised that when these two emotions collide, nothing good really ever happens, usually the latter will creep up behind and slit my throat releasing any form of excitement drift away- metaphorically speaking, of course. I don’t know what possessed me to pretend to be confident over the situation- Niamh was freaking out. My primary school best friend’s first party, her sixteenth actually, was going to begin in two hours. I don’t think that I even knew I was frightened, I fooled myself into thinking I was capable of attending a party with only one person I was comfortable speaking to (which was the hostess). Not much happened in that time, I reassured Niamh that her party will be great- one to remember- and I didn’t prove myself wrong.

I think it was when the doorbell actually rung and the first guests arrived. It was like shards of glass in my stomach. What am I doing here? I asked myself. Me, the socially awkward loner, at a house party. Eventually the guests flooding in. I tried, I really did, and don’t get me wrong, I had a few nice conversations, about school; even Downton Abbey hit a home run, but it was only ten minutes too nine which I struck out. It had been going for fifty minutes and I retreated upstairs (where no one was allowed, but of course I was, being a best friend and all). I just kind of sat there… on the stairs… the definition of lonely struck me hard. I don’t remember how long I stayed there, but I soon returned (to my dismay), but I had to ya’ know? I had to try for her. It was a strange feeling being around so many unfamiliar faces at once, it made me feel like I had walked into a strangers house, I couldn’t seem to recognise anything. I think at first she thought I was being quiet because some guys were arriving, which did make it just a tad worse seeing as I go to an all girls school so I find it harder to talk to boys, but I soon found it hard to breathe. It was a strange sensation, especially seeing all the smiling faces shining around me. I slowly stood up, to not gain any extra attention, and literally ran up the stairs and into the bedroom I was sleeping in that night and locked the door behind me. I felt like not hardly enough oxygen was reaching my lungs, and eventually I lay down and cried my life out into a pillow. I did try to return to the party on various occasions, but as soon as I could hear the music pulsing through the walls and into my ears I seemed to loose the ability to stand, and would once again collapse.

I don’t remember what time Niamh walked in on me crying to myself, and it’s embarrassing to explain what happened for the rest of that night, so I’ll just summarise it. She tried to comfort me, calm me down, but it was no use. At one point some of her friends came in saw me crying and just froze, and that was the moment I became the talk of the party. I didn’t go back down for the night, I tried calling home for someone to pick me up but they were out, I went to sleep after the guests were  kicked out by her parents, and Niamh assured me that she had fun and she was glad I was there. But I knew, ya’ know? I knew I had ruined it, I knew it wasn’t going to be a good memory for her, and it was me who had spoilt it. So that was it. My first party.

–

When my mum picked me up in the morning she knew what had happened, not just because of the concerning message I had left on the answering machine, but from the look on my face- I couldn’t seem to meet anyone’s eye. She told me that it was completely natural for this to happen, but I didn’t feel like talking to her about it. 

 

Masks And Shades.

There are only two types of people in the world. Fakes, and copy- cats. I don’t know how you feel about but I’ll continue anyway. This kind of explanation would be much easier with a venn diagram, as of course, you can be a bit of both (which I guess contradicts my statement of there being only two types of people but I’m not bothered). Fakes, the meaner, maybe rougher types of people are insecure- I mean, who isn’t?- but they would rather their true colours not show, because they’re are simply not proud of themselves, so instead they’ll create a false identity and stick to it, hiding behind the mask possibly forever. Copy cats are confident. They are strong enough to shine a bit too bright, if you know what I mean, they wouldn’t usually want to be anyone else, unless they had something that they didn’t. You know who you are. And so, you know that deep down, you can never really trust someone fully. Not really. Because doubt comes creeping along and reminds you of this very post. Weird, huh?

Family.

My earliest memory of music has to be either Santana, or The Rolling Stones. I remember lounging around on that massive blue rug we used to have next to the CD player where the music was far too loud, and you couldn’t hear anyone even scream your name. I used to sleep there till dinner was ready. I think old music like that used to bring us together, because no matter what music taste we had personally, we all know these songs and would hum or sing along, or laugh if someone got the wrong timing of 1, 2 in Jumping Jack Flash at the start of the song.