shallow

He drove 100 miles to see me. 

I take him to my local Turkish and we went bowling. We talked and talked... We got along like a house on fire. 

We had a great time, he walked me home. He leans in and i let him kiss me. I was told the look on my face was shock and not necessarily the good kind. 

I said yes to a second date. He kisses me again; and drives 100 miles home. 

He takes me ice skating- he tries to hold on to me every chance he gets; Im too fast, much better than him on ice skates. We hold hands as we go round and round. 

He tries to win me a toy at the fair; two milk cans down of the 3- the man takes pity on him and I get a little minion. We walk around the fake german market, laugh at silly things as we walk through the crowds. I tell him we can have shared custody of the minion. 

We're nestled in a pub later on; as he leans in I notice his hand on my knee- it stays there as I natter away. I tell him he's cheeky but I let him leave his hand where it is. 

Several margaritas and a huge mexican meal later he puts my scarf on and pull me close. I let him kiss me and I kiss him back. 

Slowly, with thought, because I'm not sure. 

He's not pretty. He's so far removed from pretty. 

There's the fact that he's heavy, and he's got a belly. And not in the little food belly kind of belly either. 

Oh the universe is having a joke. 

I'm torn. I like this guy, but he's no looker. (I'm cringing at my shallowness here....cringing). He's not suave, sophisticated and wealthy. He's doesn't even possess the same level of education. He makes soda pop. 

He's got buckets of personality and I'm a sucker for personality and being spoilt (he put my skates on for me). 

the irony. 

Watching, waiting wishing

My housemate's in love.

It's infectious; it's hard to ignore someone who's deliriously happy to have met someone beautiful, intelligent and graceful. It makes me smile in spite of myself.

All the boys are in love.

I like to think that even the dirty, messy, lazy one is happy having kissed and made up with his girlfriend (they broke up for a little while some weeks ago).

Im going through the winter struggle; feeling like emotionally awful. Im feeling a little lonely, very ugly and fat. Im working my ass off again at the gym and I still feel as unattractive as ever.

But I digress. El- is so happy and Im happy for him. He's a good kid and he should be with this lovely angel who's coming over for dinner tomorrow. I wont help him cook, but I did suggest a menu. I hope he remembers to buy something for dessert.

It feels a little strange, getting him to drop me off 2 streets away from I live.

It feels a whole lot of wrong that I tell him this is our little secret and no one can know.

It was odd that when I told him I dropped my hair clip in his car he was nonchalant about it, after all he says, he has 3 daughters; and he could say it belonged to anyone of them.

I supposed its not wrong, but it's not right either; but this is what I've descended into.

The strangest thing was when I was jumping out of his car he leaned over for a kiss and I proffered him my cheek. And he kissed me goodnight.

So, there was a random hook up from July time... He's contacted me again. To say he's single now and wants to meet up again.

Im bored and randy enough to say yes. I know its just going to be another hook-up, nothing is long term or good is going to come of this. Boredoom will make you do things, right?

Sigh. Why can't I be the girl men fall in love with. Drive long distances to be with. The one showered with presents, loving care and rose petals.

The only men who have bought me flowers are family. Or that one friend- but it was because I did his laundry.

I want to be loved like every fucking love song ever made.

Maybe a little lust like Alt J's Every Little Freckle would not be too bad either

I really don't like me

Confession time: 

I do online dating. 

I look around to check out the competition and I realise that most of the women using the website are bigger ladies; around my size. 

I despair. The men I find or find me are usually attached and I'm fighting the urge to flirt with them. It's not easy when men are not lining up to date me. I'm getting lonely and I fear that I will not find anyone who will love me. 

Not only because I'm shallow, vacuous and unattractive but ultimately because I'm fat. 

So I think I'm better.

In the orthopaedic sense. I'be started 2k jogs and  I'm gonna add to that in the next couple of weeks.

The new housemates are all body obsessed boys; all the recent talk of weight training has me thinking it's the way to go. 

Diet on board as well, making decent home meals for the next week while I'm on call. 

Still depressed. Still fat. Still ugly. 

Hopefully not for too long 😓

I shazam music in Starbucks.

So I managed to hitch a ride to london with all my Kendo kit (all 10 kgs of it) and my shinai only to be wandering london waiting for 3 o'clock to happen. 

I had breakfast in a cafe in Islington because I was lost and hungry. 

I've been hit badly this time with the fat and uglies. In spite of my best efforts to cheer the fuck up, gym and cut my hair the feeling remains. 

I feel ugly, incompetent and unworthy of life. It's probably a depressed cycle; the thoughts are persistent and obsessional. I try and try to work through it: logical thinking, drowning myself in work and alcohol. Even a little comfort eating. Nothing is working. 

Saying I'm a little depressed is like saying climbing Kilimanjaro is a little hike. I struggle to sleep, mentally slow and urge to hurt myself is all there. I'm trying to channel it the right way- I exercise to hurt myself and I clean/bake when I can't sleep. 

So I'm here in a central London Starbucks feeling like shit's more useless cousin. I can't read because all that echoes in my head is that "you're useless, no one will write books about you, you stupid ugly person" etc etc. such noisy, painfully self depreciating mental mutilation. It's like cutting but in my head. 

I'll sit and try and read some more.... Maybe a bus will do me a favour and take me out of my misery in a bit.

soggy

29 years old

Alone, unattractive.

Just walked home through dark streets.

No worries-Im that unpretty.

Unpretty. Ugly.

The dark is made for the un-beautiful; but I have yet to develop the talent of social interaction, of manipulating the dark to my advantage. I run, I hide, I hide away.

Im drunk. I don't like myself. Argh.

Today I ran off the fat and uglies.

I've gotten myself an inhaler to open up my lungs and make myself run it off. Run from those feelings of inadequacy, the thought that I will never be beautiful. 

I jog and sweat. 

Aphrodite, this my sacrament to you. I lay my ugly self at your lotus feet. Let them come and love me as they love you, blind them to my lack of beauty and grace. 

Confession

I shop in a vain attempt to fill the empty space on my life with stuff. Stuff doesn't that doesn't love me back and doesn't make me happy for long. 

I'm so lonely.... It all feels a little pointless. 

I should've never bothered with life. 

Vengeful bitch

At least let me know you're still alive.

I'm trying my hardest not to reply to that because I want you to wonder what happened to me everyday of your life. 

Because once I love I do it for life and it still hurts a little bit when I think about you with someone else.

Everyday I go to bed worried that I'll never meet anyone else. 

Pray

Please give me confidence, wit and wisdom- PACES IS TOMORROW.

Please give me the grace to let the dream of him and me finally go. Give me the strength to stop being jealous and cease caring what he's doing with his life. 

We can't be friends right now because it still stings when he's happy with someone else. Enough, enough, enough. 6 months of sadness is enough. 

Help me find something to fight for, to strive for. Let me stay healthy, let my knees hold up as I try to climb mountains (real and proverbial), ski and run; don't let my malancholy interfere with my life anymore.

Priceless quote

From A Single Man

"My mother says that lovers are like buses; you have to wait a little while but another one comes along"

Honeyhoney's Thin Line

Cos I want whiskey when I'm sick

And a man when I'm well

But it's nice to have both sometimes

When I feel like raising hell

Mmm. Revision and stress messing up my brain. 

Ramayana

In the Ramayana, Rama gets drawn away from his home to chase a golden deer, at the request of his wife Sita. The golden deer was a demon who wanted to lure Rama away so it could kidnap Sita. 

Today I saw a deer while running through the park. A little young 'un. It ran away so quickly...

Is this the beginning of my epic story? 

I also saw a 3 legged chihuahua. Don't know what that means. 

Love is loss and loss is love

Everybody leaves
People come and go

Don't worry

Love is loss and loss is love

The space that was you will be filled
Your lines will be read by someone else
They might not sound as good

But when the curtain rises
I'll be standing there facing the crowd

This is just a beginning

Just my luck

So you meet someone, you like them, they like you...

You wait for them to call, text or show any signs of life.
You wait. For things come to those who wait, right?
Patience is a virtue, right?

They meet someone else-they like the someone else more.
You wait, still.

You make the classic mistake of going back to the wrong man.

They finally text. Oh, right. Other woman. Just my luck.

I'd like to think I'm saving my luck for my exams. Exams, exams, exams.
Really don't need the man stress. 

Bad behaviour weekend

I find myself in his bed last night.

I missed him. I messed up with the trains.....and he answered the call.
It was a choice.
It felt so familiar, so right, so comfortable.

The scent of his laundry, the clean sheets, him. It felt so right. 

It even hurts so good. I felt drugged, it took a couple of hours for the haze to clear. So hard, so so hard to leave.

Bad Lizzy. Bad, bad lizzy.



Hurt my knee dirty dancing, pulled randoms and broke my 5th metacarpal roller skating (inebriation related).

Futura-splint and a sinking sense of shame.

Desire

Last night I was a dinner party hosted by one of the consultants at his lovely home.  Most of my colleagues at the same level were there; I felt awful the whole time.

Stories were shared by the others, people laughed and enjoyed each other’s company. I felt awkward and out-of-place. I didn’t have anything interesting to say, and even if I did I couldn’t get it in sideways because someone has a cooler story to tell.

I sat pretty much silent through dinner. Wine helped with me feeling less awful about the way the evening panning out, but it didn’t change the situation at all.

In the car on the way back they were talking about how the girls in the department were being hit on my some of the bosses. I have not had any experience of this. Either I’m oblivious to innuendo or more likely, im too unattractive and boring to be hit on.

The one advice Matt had for me was: Act confident. Don’t talk like he has other options and don’t fish for compliments.

I don’t like me.

I wouldn’t respect me.

So I have to change.

Change is painful and difficult and relentless.

Change is beautiful, it is progress.

It begins in the mind- as for execution, the devil is in the details.

It is the small changes that dictate the bigger picture. It’s the decision to get out of bed earlier, to hold up my head, speak louder, to take the time to think before I speak.

It’s not eating that chocolate, going for that run.

It’s holding myself to a better standard. To stop procrastinating.

To love myself enough to sacrifice small pleasures for lasting improvements.

It’s all in the mind.

I’ve been watching motivational videos and all of them advise that there is no break, it is continuous work and effort. What fuels it is the desire.

What I want is simple, to be:

-       Thin

-       Smart

-       Beautiful

-       Confident

No such thing as perfect

"Who's the cute baby?"

"She mine...with my ex. She's 9 months"

"She's got your dimples and your ginger hair. Do you get to see her much?

"Not a much as I'd like to- her mother's not too keen"

"What a shame..."

Men and babies. Tall, bubble butt and dimply youngish man and his cute dimply cuddly baby. Recently divorced.

Oh trouble.........
I was surprised at how cool my reaction was. I wanted to scream- Whaaaatttt?!!!!!  I am not ready for a dalliance with a divorced man, what more one who has a child and in a difficult legal battle to have more time with her.

We had fun. Watched a random tv show and then messed about for hours. He's sweet, considerate and has the kookiest smile. 

The hickey was a complete accident- it does look like you were attacked by a vampire. I'm sorry! 

He's not texted or called. It's been 4 hours since I left.  Maybe it was a one -off thing and we'll never see each other again. 

Back to studying. Back to work. 

Wolverine sings?

You've got 6 more minutes

"You need the 14 right?"

"Yep- ah, there's one in 14 minutes"

"Hmm...what can we do in 14 minutes?" he said with a naughty gleam in his eye.

He's been stealing kisses at every intersection. He looks a little disappointed when I pull away to cross the street. We hold hands, fingers intertwined.

He's that perfect height where I can tuck comfortably under his chin though in my heeled shoes I still need to tip toe to kiss him. He leans down, a lot.

We're waiting at this bus stop. It's midnight and it's full. We stand a little away from the crowd- I look up at him, "so, what do you want to do in 14 minutes?"

He leans down and just touches his lips against mine. He places little kisses all over my lips- I can taste the single malt scotch he'd been sipping. I kiss him back, just that little greedier. It's very tasty scotch.

He pulls on my jacket, pulling me close. Our bodies are touching and he starts moving- leading me into a little dance right there at that bus stop. My hands on his shoulders, his around my waist- I rest my head on his chest. Another long kiss.

It feels like a long time. I pull away- "I bet I've just missed the bus- I wonder how many minutes to the next one." I lean back to try and see the board and someone at the bus stop shouts out, "you've got 6 more minutes".

Photographs

I've deleted all but one pictures of him from my phone. There is such a finality to it.

Seeing him; us, and wondering why, why? Did i condemn it from the start by trying to be all cool; all fuck-buddy-friendly?

Granted, the are back-ups on my computer, but it will at least reduce the impulsitivity of trying to look at the photos.

 If someone could tell me how to back-up save texts then I'll delete his number and texts as well (eventually).

Playlist

When I start getting better and not all my posts are about how my wretched broken heart is suffering etc I will compile a breakup playlist.

Im going to structure it around the 5 stages of grieving. Some of the music already on here is pretty good if i could say so myself.

Today my phone picked-out this gem: Nothing Better by the Postal Service.


I pretty much have thought (or occasionally said) every line Ben Gibbard sings, except for the last stanza.

Will someone please call a surgeon
Who can crack my ribs
And repair this broken heart
That you're deserting for better company?
 
And Matt even drew a graph on our first date. Later he told me I fell in love with him based on his theory of successful relationships that can be plotted on a 3-dimensional graph. Yes, my love for him is a position on a 3-dimensionaal graph:
x axis is attraction
y axis is comfort and
z axis is investment.

Which doesn't really work because I initially wasn't that attracted to him and wasn't comfortable with him as my true, silly, girlie self. I did however, invest.

Investment, in this model, could be replaced with time, as a linear thing to follow and plot the line of the relationship. Keep in mind however investment also factors in effort, money and feelings.

A good relationship has all 3 in abundance. He was attracted and I made him feel comfortable, but he was not invested.

My mistake.



I wished I knew this song existed that night he told me about Ida.
Say Something by A Great Big World and Christina Aguilera.

They sing everything I wanted to say, needed to say.  Every.single.word is how I felt that sunday when I realised you could never and would never  love me.

And I will swallow my pride
You're the one that I love
And I'm saying goodbye

I've not heard from you in days. If you don't want to see me or know how I am by this time tomorrow, then this is it. I'll mail your DVD and the holiday photos to you. I'll send you a postcard from Paris. You'll get something silly for your birthday.

Over and out.

Anggun

I always loved Anggun- she epitomises Malay beauty; the bronzed skin, dark hair and an innate elegance. I love that she speaks french and dances like a dream.

Today I was running a blood gas I suddenly reminded of this song. Something from my youth.

I don't regret this, all these feelings I'm going through -it gives all the sad love songs context.

Maybe I will cut my hair and get red gel nail polish on my feet. Can't quite get a cat, though I should say hello to Jun.

I spent the day crying at intervals

This heartbreak thing is EPIC.

The pain is visceral, my thoughts obsessional and irrational. Everything reminds me of him and by extension, how bad i feel.

I tell him this. He receives a constant narrative about my emotional state. Ours was never a conventional relationship; the end shouldn't be either.

This heartbreak thing is like the flu.

You fall ill, you're feverish, delirious, incapable of looking after yourself.

You rely on family and friends to look after you.

You can either take medication to make the symptoms better so you can get by or sweat the fever out. There is no cure for the flu (or for love). Your body will have to heal itself, the immune system fights the virus and then it learns; so it can protect itself from similar viruses in the future.

The heart needs to do the same. Heal and learn. No cure, just time and supportive measures.

Blur's No Distance Left to Run

It's over 
You don't need to tell me 
I hope you're with someone who makes you feel safe in your sleeping tonight 
I won't kill myself, trying to stay in your life 
I got no distance left to run 

When you see me 
Please turn your back and walk away
I don't want to see you cos i know the dreams that you keep
Is where we meet 
When your coming down, think of me here 
I got no distance left to run 

It's over, 
I knew it would end this way 
I hope you're with someone who makes you feel 
That this life is the life 
One who settles down, stays around 
Spends more time with you 
I got no distance left to run 

Coming home 
It's over 
no more

Tonight I write the hardest words

Today I spent the day missing you.

I missed the warmth of you in bed, lying next to you. The scent, the taste of your kisses. That simple joy of snuggling up to your body and putting my head against your shoulder.

I even miss you telling me off for lounging too long in bed and glaring at me as I fuss with my hair. I want to run potion 9 through your hair and mine- for your sake I hope you don't use gel in your hair again, that's why I left my little tube of potion 9 there.

I find myself looking at our photos- I couldn't bring myself to hate you, even when you find it so easy to dismiss me to the ranks of women you've let go. Granted, I gave you fodder for that; but that's who I am and I was tired of sparing you the worse of me. I gave you a glimpse of my demons and a lot of my love- and yet it feels all wasted.

You had slept with her in January.
You said because the both of you were drunk and horny.

Well at least you were honest. 

(on a side note GU ramekins make for fine ashtrays- desperate times, eh?)

It breaks my bloody heart that you didn't spare a thought for me.
I want to ask you if I ever crossed your mind as you were kissing her, fucking her.

In my anger I want to curse you, hit you and hurt you in some way. I want you to feel some of this.
No, I want you to feel all of this.
Feel inadequate, weak and shamed.

Please don't spare me. When I ask you about her it's so I can learn to hate you. So I can forget the sad simpering woman I became when I thought you could love me.

I cannot believe that I had even hoped we could have a life together- a home filled with books, films and my dodgy taste in art. I occasionally wondered what our kids would look like- my smile and your eyes; little halfies who would be confused because their mother believed in God and Heaven while their father did not.

I feel like such an idiot- trying to give you a wonderful Christmas, sacrificing sleep and pissing off well meaning friends to make you happy. Just because making you happy gave me such joy.
That's what love means to me; that feeling of joy and bliss when you were with me, when you were happy.

Love is sacrifice and compromise- you weren't willing to do that for me.
I wished I had the strength to not believe you when you said you loved me.
You weren't lying, you just don't understand what it meant to love someone.

You must've slept with her while I was busy at work, thinking of you, planning our holiday. While I fought the urge to text you and tell you how much I missed you; you would've been texting, calling her.

Why, why, why?
Just tell me she's beautiful, well-read and perfect. Let me think I've lost to a better woman.

Because now I'm wondering what I've done wrong, where have I slipped up?
Is it because I believe in God, my culturally diverse background and that I occasional mis-pronounce things? Does it scare you my mother wears the hijab, I feel alienated from my father and my brother will break the fingers of any man who hurts me?
Or is it because I wear too much make-up, eat too much and get excited about everything?
Do you fear my emotions; my giddy highs and my dark depression?
I notice your unease when I jokingly say I'm jealous; but you know I'm not joking and that I have good reason to be- I knew you were going to fuck her even before you did. Maybe I drove you to do it.

And yet I tried. I kept loving and hoping because that's the only thing I know how to do.

Now I have to learn to hate.

Hate must be my wall, my reminder that you do not love me, you do not know how.
You cannot love me not through any inadequacy of mine, but because you do not want to suffer for my sake.

You said it yourself, I cannot be the judge of your tendency for dramatic gestures for you are capable of them at work and in long term relationships. You've told me how Emma pushed you into months of insomnia and anxiety and how you were anxiously waiting for Holly to start dating again. These women have done nothing for you and yet, I stir no feelings except for camaraderie?
Fuck that.

So hate I must.



Will you stay with me my love?
For another day...
Cause I don't want to be alone,
When I'm in this state.
Will you stay with me my love?
Till we're old and grey.
I don't wanna be alone.
When these bones decay...

This was what happened the weekend after our trip.

Against all good advice I went to see him yesterday. Initially it was lunch that became a shopping trip and became night in with ribs and Hot Fuzz.

Lying my head against his back in bed-I asked, I stupidly asked; if he had slept with anyone else. When he said yes, my heart caught in my throat.

One I knew about; they had been long distance friends for years and when he went back home they met- he told me about her and I was cool with it, she had seen him first, technically she had first dibs.

The other woman I had my suspicions about. Months ago he told me that he had gone on a second date with her and he had brought her to my favourite restaurant, one I had been telling him we should go to together. I was pissed off that he didn't went there with someone else;  maybe a part of me knew he would go on to sleep with her and that's why I was so angry.

When he's said, 'I slept with Ida', my heart broke. And then my good sense started shouting at me.
I felt betrayed. Made into the fool. Felt used, felt sooo stupid for putting my heart on the line, trusting this man; thinking he might think this is special too.

Logic stood fast. This was never a relationship, I never had any claim on the man. He owes you nothing- not loyalty, not love, not monogamy.

He tells me he was very drunk and it was the one time. I had to ask, 'was it in this bed?' It wasn't. He tells me it didn't work out between them because they had nothing in common.

We've got nothing in common either.

If I had any pride and self respect I would have gotten dressed and left. Walked away, run somewhere, anywhere until I felt less shame and pain.

When he first mentioned her months ago I told him, 'you need to tell me early if you meet someone. It's going to be hard to quit you. Don't tell me about the dates, but if you sleep with someone please tell me.'

I knew that if I had left last night he would not come after me. That's why I didn't go. I'm trying to hold on to some semblance of pride and self respect but love has me on my knees.

I'm his for as long as he wants me.

The worst part of this whole revelation was that I made him cry. It's the second time. The first time I saw his tears was after I made him tell me about Holly. He had told me how amazing she was- his face animated, so enamored. The next morning, I asked him, 'am I not good enough for you?' and for some reason I saw tears in his eyes.

Last night, when I couldn't stand it anymore and had to turn away, bury my head in the pillows-I heard him sobbing.




Throw me in the landfill 
Don't think about the consequences 
Throw me in the dirt pit 
Don't think about the choices that you make 
Throw me in the water 
Don't think about the splash
I will create 
Leave me at the altar 
Knowing all the things you just escaped 

Push me out to sea 
On a little boat that you made out of the evergreen 
That you helped your father cut away 
Leave me on the tracks 
To wait until the morning train arrives 
Don't you dare look back 
Walk away, catch up with the sunrise 

This is torturous 
Electricity between both of us 
And this is dangerous 
'cause I want you so much 
But I hate your guts 
I hate you 

So leave me in the cold 
Wait until the snow covers me up 
So I cannot move 
So I'm just embedded in the frost 
Then leave me in the rain 
Wait until my clothes cling to my frame 
Wipe away your tear stains 
Thought you said you didn't feel pain

Can't remember to forget you

Whoever wrote this song, genius.
Whoever came up with the tune; thank you for making what is a very sad, desperate situation into a super catchy, great pop song.

 I left a note on my bedpost
Said not to repeat yesterday's mistakes 
What I tend to do when it comes to you 
I see only the good, selective memory 

The way he makes me feel, 
gotta hold on me 
I've never met someone so different 
Oh here we go 
He's a part of me now, he's a part of me 
So where you go I follow, follow, follow 

I can't remember to forget you 
I keep forgetting I should let you go 
But when you look at me, the only memory, is us kissing in the moonlight 

I can't remember to forget you

And I don't think i'll be cutting off my hair anytime soon, even if it is the default heartbreak thing to do. Shakira- that hair!

I remember the first time you said 'love'.

'Why is he (Capt Kirk) climbing the mountain?- Because he's in love'

I asked you why kissing you feels so good- you tell me it's because we love each other. You tell me you knew I loved you well before I'd admit it to myself. And I came out and 'fessed up- yes, i love you, just a little bit. You said you love me too. You'd go on to say it more than once. Not just post-coital blissed out I love yous, but while we're walking hand in hand, riding on the back of a pick-up and when you've just woken up.

I apologised for falling in love. You tell me it's ok, it makes you feel less guilty about falling in love with me; because its not part of the plan.

In love or not, truth or not, you still rend my ventricles apart. Leaving you tonight was the hardest thing. It hurt so much when you told me you'll only meet me for coffee next week, when I offered to stay. You are being strong and principled while I would rather avoid the pain and plod along the way we were. You want to be my friend, but I want all of you; selfishly.

I say selfish because I cannot marry you- I can't be your missus and raise children with you. I don't know if I could live in a quiet country town. I don't know if I could deal with the associated religious guilt if I married you.

You know this and you are letting me go gently. Agreeing to be my friend and supporting me. Oh how it hurts,  as you hold me and I realise that there is no way for this to work. No real way our little love could be more than this.

When I asked if you wanted me to stay next week and you said no; my heart swelled and my throat expanded, the was an ache in my chest and tears. I stared at you looking for an answer. There was none so I kissed you. Again and again.

I was holding back tears on the way to the station. I didn't want to think this was the last time I'll walk holding your hand. My heart twisted in my chest, I kissed you as I leave. I forgot to put all my love in it because I was sad.

I'd love to kiss you again, just so I can put all my love in it.

False promises

I hereby promise to resist to the best of my ability Internet stalking, googling and thinking about his other women. The exes, the lost love, the dates, even the work colleagues he's so fond of.

I need to stop because it's a waste of time and it's acting like a crazy lady.
Who knew that I was that kind, eh?

I really need to give up. Concede. Back out with some semblance of pride intact.

In a moment of weakness, I think that if I tried hard enough I could beat her.
She is now the bogeyman, the enemy, the challenge to overcome.

I think of how I can show him how amazing, how dependable, how wonderful I am.

Liez, oh Liez, you cannot make people love you.

The people that love you, the ones that really do, don't love you because of what you do for them. They just do.

He doesn't. Doesn't mean he's a bad man. He just doesn't feel that way. And you have no control over it.

New resolution: add on.

I will henceforth document all fun stuff I do.
Even if it is mundane.

Backtrack for january.

Went to see American Hustle. Holding hands. When will the novelty end (im such a kid).
Went to see Carmen at Royal Opera House dressed in red. Less hand holding this time.
Went to see 12 Years a Slave with regular movie date and temporary lodger.

Wallowed in some minor heartbreak.
Went shopping in Norwich.

The universe continues to torture me

I was planning to go to Kew gardens tomorrow to save my wasted, disastrous week off.

I cannot bring myself to do go because one of their attractions is a kilometer long "Holly Walk" that was previously known as Lover's Lane.

The full moon is still out and I might possibly decide to raze the 130 year old holly bushes to the ground. It's not genus Ilex's fault, my anger towards them is only by association.

Even the object of my wrath is not really at fault. But jealousy is ugly, mindless and vicious.  

Why don't you love me

The rant:
"...I wonder, is this all one sided? Sigh. Too much bloody missing you..."

The response:
"...I'd happily hang out with you every week or two...."

I'm sorry, I've changed my mind. I know initially I was happy with this arrangement. A lover and a friend. But I'm human and my feelings got in the way. Im starting to fall for you and I know you are waiting for another woman.

You are ready to drop it all and run to her side. You lie quietly and wait for her to start dating again.

I'm a distraction. I sent you a text about how im falling for you and it hurts, it hurts because it feels like you dont want me; and you tell me im fun and energetic and you would happily hangout with me every couple of weeks?!

I've been pretty depressed since the text- the hints were there and I've known of the 'perfect woman' since Christmas but the text is the straw that broke the camel's back. I'm great fun and really good company- I bloody well know that; fuck being your entertainment, i want to you to bloody miss me back you dolt.

It hurts. Like bad heartburn and headache. The tears well up and the back of my nose is sore like I've had too much wasabi. It stings and smarts and oh my God what I'd give to kiss you because it will stop the hurt. Stop the hurt until you leave or mention some gorgeous, smart-alec woman you've gone on a 2nd date with (like the time you took that other bitch to my favorite restaurant).

I deserve it for being fat and ugly. I deserve it because I don't have witty comebacks, a smart-ass mouth or an IQ above 150. I drink too much and get depressed. I get awful waves of Schadenfreude (when 'perfect woman's' cat got sick, there was a sickening feeling of glee). I call people I've not met a bitch when their only sin is going out with you (it's not their fault at all. How would they know?) I deserve it because I don't care for politics and I don't understand feminist rhetoric.

Why don't you love me seems like a redundant question now. I know exactly why.
___________________________________________________________________

On to some good news:

I pass Part 2! On to the practical exams in the summer!

Thanks God for small mercies and saving graces.

It'll be sweater weather in Amman baby.

'Cause it's too cold
For you here and now
So let me hold
Both your hands in the holes of my sweater

I'll get over you when it gets warmer. 

Resolutions

The 5th of January is my day of Resolutions.

Career

1. Get MRCP by 2015.
2. 3 audits by July 2014
3. By August 2014 have a realistic list of alternative career plans to hospital medicine to pursue

Financial

1. Save 20% of basic monthly salary.
2. Not to dip into savings. Ever.
3. Buy a car in October 2014.

Family and relationships

1. Go home for Raya
2. Contact close friends at least monthly via telephone or email.
In the wise words of Baz Luhrman- the older you get, the more you need people who knew you when you were young.
3. Try and stay friends with Matt. If he'll have you and doesn't make you cry too much.
4. Once exams are done, get back into the dating scene

Personal development

1. Lose 2 kilos a month.
2. Read a non fiction book a month.
3. Climb a mountain.

"and dear God, I hope I'm not stuck with this one" Kate Nash, Foundations.

I read somewhere that 'you should blog like no one is reading'. Im sure no one is reading so I'll be honest & open here.

I know he's not in love with me.

And yet, here I am, thinking about him all the time- waiting, wishing, hoping that he'll realise that I'm better than a charming, big breasted, ginger genius with an IQ of 170. I wish he'd realise that for all the teasing I adore his silly hair and awkward ways.
Im a little bit smitten and pretty invested.
My poor little heart hurts (and I dont think my chest pain is purely gastritis).

I wish he would drop everything to see me like he would for her. 

I can get smarter, I can learn to be engaging....though I look terrible with red hair.  

And I know however hard he tried, he couldn't love me the way I need to be loved.


I need to be worshiped and adored.
Be crazy about me.
Be proud of me.
Think about me when you look at other women.
Spoil me rotten and then tell me off when I dont exercise.

Just fucking love me. It's not that hard.


Instead Im here, settling for this friends with benefits deal.
It's not fair to you to demand exclusivity when I know this isnt forever. 
You're older, you want to get married and you want babies- just not with me.  You tell me you are dating, searching for your future wife. 

You tell me this in bed, holding me. And I self flagellate by pretending im cool with all of it- tell me about her; is she pretty? Is she skinny? Why not her then? 
"You need to tell me early if you meet 'the one'. It's gonna be hard, quitting you" 
"Sometimes I wonder, am I not good enough for you?"
And I kiss you to stop me from saying any more stupid things and hold you tighter, trying to keep you here with me. 

We only talk about 'us' when Im drunk or half-asleep. That's the only time my control slips- I apologize every time it happens.

I keep blaming myself for being weak and letting feelings take over. I need to stay objective and enjoy this for what it is. Instead a part of me is tempted to run amok with my feelings and destroy this, whatever it is.

He still makes me happy. 



Daughter, Smother

I'm wasted, losing time
I'm a foolish, fragile spine
I want all that is not mine
I want him but we're not right