my papa misses my nana so much that her shower cap still hangs on the back of the bathroom door. her perfume on the dresser, her jewellery box unopened, her belongings on the bed-side table, clothes hanging in the wardrobe, just as she left it. it makes me want to cry, just to think of it.

& that’s when i nuzzle your neck & sink into you, & realise that we’re so lucky that we’re still young. we still have it all. we still have years. & it doesn’t matter if you have stubble on your chin, or that we had a fight yesterday. what matters is you’re here.

anonymous asked:

*Was. My tumblr was amazing. Thank you, though. I loved it. I miss it, sometimes. If I ever get time I would like to start it back up again. I haven't lost any of my followers even though I haven't used it in so long. I liked LookBook too, though, I'd like to go back to that, as well. I like to take photos even more than I like to write. If you want to read any of mine, there's a link in the description to my writing. But all of it is very old and about feelings that I don't feel anymore.

day 51.

i can’t exactly say that i got much enjoyment out of my mental breakdown, but it has taught me a valuable lesson: life is far too short to be miserable, & nothing. & i mean, nothing in life is as concrete as it may seem. it’s all tangible.

your best friend might not be your best friend anymore if you change your music taste, change your location, end up burnt in a house fire. if you have friends who would be, no matter what, they’re golden. hold onto them. don’t waste your time with anybody who’s company you don’t enjoy. if you aren’t happy with your boyfriend, or girlfriend, end it. stop complaining. don’t spend your entire relationship creating drama about a partner who, in fact, is pretty much everything you want. you’ll regret it when they’re gone. this isn’t an american soap; your relationship isn’t just to keep your friends entertained.

stop feeling guilty about every decision you make. stop feeling guilty about everything you couldn’t control, everything you couldn’t fix. if you want to fix something, do it. if you can’t, don’t. but bloody try if you think fixing it can make you happy. don’t waste your intellect, waste your time, waste your energy sitting in a stuffy office doing a job you don’t enjoy so that you can keep a roof over your head. don’t spend every day waiting for the clock to turn to 5 so you can start living your life. do something you enjoy, or enjoy working a dead end job to get the money to do what you truly want to do. don’t let your work consume you. you hate your degree course? transfer. change. quit. or apply for things to do during your summer that make it worth while. don’t waste your time listening to music you don’t love. don’t waste hours watching films that someone else said you had to watch. it doesn’t matter what music you listen to, what films you watch, or if you do nothing but masturbate all day. who cares, if you’re having fun, do it.

if you’re a self destructive anxiety ridden depressive mess it isn’t the end of the world. be a whirlwind, be a hurricane, be a storm. but don’t suck other people up with you unless they want to enjoy the ride. life’s too short to make anybody else miserable. if you’ve got no reason to say that nasty thing, don’t say it. if you want to stop spinning, don’t give up once you start to feel dizzy. the world will come to a stand still in the end, you just have to stick it out. it’s possible, it’s do-able, & by god yes it’s hard but i promise you it will be worth it in the end.

your life is your own & by the time you read this you’ve probably already wasted 20 years of it. you might have wasted it exactly the way you wanted to, or exactly the way you didn’t. don’t waste another twenty. the world might be over in two.

we all have the potential to fall in love a thousand times in our lifetime. it’s easy. the first girl i ever loved was someone i knew in sixth grade. her name was missy; we talked about horses. the last girl i love will be someone i haven’t even met yet, probably. they all count. but there are certain people you love who do something else; they define how you classify what love is supposed to feel like. these are the most important people in your life, & you’ll meet maybe four or five of these people over the span of 80 years. but there’s still one more tier to all this; there is always one person you love who becomes that definition. it usually happens retrospectively, but it happens eventually. this is the person who unknowingly sets the template for what you will always love about other people, even if some of these loveable qualities are self-destructive & unreasonable. the person who defines your understanding of love is not inherently different than anyone else, & they’re often just the person you happen to meet the first time you really, really want to love someone. but that person still wins. they win, & you lose. because for the rest of your life, they will control how you feel about everyone else.

when i turned 18, i thought i was so grown up. at the time i disagreed with the traditional idea that you aren’t an adult until you turn 21. but now i’ve changed my mind. i’d love to say something philosophical like ‘the 20-year-old-me wouldn’t recognise who i am now’. but that’s not true. yes it is. no it isn’t. well, to be honest, i don’t know. i’m still the same faltery, kind hearted, slightly shy, geeky, stubborn little walking smile i’ve always been. but there are parts of me that heavily differ.

this time last year i was university-bound. parting my ways & having my final farewells with my family & friends. i thought that was it. that my life was never going to go back to being the same again, i’d truly started my journey into adulthood. & in a way, i was right.

this time last year was parties, & friends. it was having more friends locally than i’d ever had in all of my teenage life. it was dating again after being celibate for an entire year. it was a new, beautiful city. a new, beautiful life. which, of course, didn’t end up painting a picture quite as pretty as i originally thought. & alright, no, i’m not embarking on my second year of law at oxford brookes. nor am i going back to oxford at all. & yes, i’m living at home with my dad again in a town which bores my creative socks off. but although i’m roosting i haven’t exactly not flown the nest.

this year the girl that never travelled spent three months in america - something which would have scared the pants off little miss self-assured-living-on-her-own last september. moving to oxford was just about enough. she finally had the probably-eight-year-plus-pending breakdown that had been forever building through her system. but the change in me that happened this year wasn’t to do with continents, or brain activity. it was the fact that i actually started making decisions for me.

the big difference between being 18 & being 21 is that although i was pretty free-thinking & independent at 18, i was still heavily influenced by what my parents & other people in my life wanted of me. although i still find it difficult not to want to please them, & make them happy, i’ve found the strength in me to let my gut feeling guide my decisions instead. i’m re-applying to university, but the universities in the cities that i want to go to. i’m applying for the degree & the career path that i want to go down. i’m applying for the jobs that i want to work at to save money for my future. for a lot of people, especially those who aren’t aware of my home life, won’t think that is a big thing to say. but i can say it with my chest puffed out proud.

this is the beginning of a new journey for me. & the only thing that scares me is that 21 years have already gone past & i didn’t start making it sooner. i can’t wait to see where i am next september because for once i’m actually excited. it’s the 15th september 2011. happy 21st birthday to me, & bring it on.

tell that star to get out of my bedroom.

have you ever cried for a whole day? after you left i cried for days. sat at restaurants with tears falling into my fishcakes. cry until your red eyes begin to sting & you learn a lesson about human patience. my mothers elastic stretches three days before my cheek feels the back of her hand. she asked me if she died would i cry as much as i cried when i lost you.

i cried like that today. but i didn’t cry over you. i cried for my dead orchid. i cried for the deaf cat with renal failure who’d gone six years without a home. i cried because i couldn’t save nutmeg, or hobbs, or pebbles. i cried because i miss america. i cried because of what someone did to me when i was 14 years old. i cried because last night, i thought he was catching a plane back to america. i cried because my dad is lonely. i cried for teena brandon. i cried for my childhood friends. i cried for his family & his grandpa. i cried for everyone who ever walked out of my life before i could make them happy. i cried for all the people who are ever sad in the world. i cried because my name means happiness; yet some days it’s the last thing i am able to be. i cried because whatever choice i make, there’s always someone who i can’t please. but i didn’t cry about you. no, i didn’t cry about you.

last night there was a star in my room that i couldn’t put out.


it’s coming up to october again, but that means differently to you than it does to me and i’m in the biggest mess that i have ever been financially. approximately 3000£ of it to be precise. and i can’t tell my friends and family because i’m ashamed of the reason. and that’s difficult when that reason turns around and says to you that he ‘always thought that you were horrible because you were messed up emotionally,’ but now he realises that 'you’re just horrible’ and you start to drown in a sea of taken advantage of.

and for a moment he tells you its over and you feel relieved then you feel guilty for feeling relieved then you beg him not to take that flight, because really you don’t want him to and i’ve never been so homesick for somewhere before. is it possible to be homesick for somewhere that wasn’t your home? i miss quincy illinois and having three cats and my own apartment even if i did hate the carpets and 10,000 miles of ocean and sky between my problems & i… i wish i could go back to that last night in st. louis when michaels car drove away and tell him to stop! come back! and preserve that moment and the smiles and the happiest nest egg i ever did clutch in my heart in that bed in that hotel room looking forward to the future. i was so looking forward to the future.

and now you’re moving out of 159 & you’re taking all the memories with you out of that little room. and i thought moving out of oxford was hard but at least then i had half. and i don’t know how i feel about that and i wish i hadn’t brought him over that ocean to the sadness and poison that awaited here. it always waits here. it ruined it. i ruined it. i’m dragging you down. this country’s dragged you down. oh god i’ve dragged you down… i didn’t want to drag you down. i shouldn’t have brought you. shouldn’t have brought you.

and now we’re left with my tears soaking into your flannel shirt once again.

stateside, day 1. lambert st. louis.

i really wish i could have shared that view of the chicago skyline shrouded in cloud with you. someone smells like dior perfume & i forgot how the clouds look like a steaming hot cotton wool bubble bath when you’re above them. the scenery is incredible. it’s like nothing i’ve ever seen before. so flat, vast expanses of blocked colour with green squares & houses plonked in the middle. neat grids of matching coloured rooves. it reminds me so much of the sims. my sense of adventure is so high i almost felt like cheering & giving a standing ovation when the pilot landed.

stateside, day 25. quincy at nightfall (the missouri mountains).

you flew to the missouri mountains to be with me last night. we skidded down the snowy slopes with my family. went out to dinner. you spent the night in my hotel room. you were due to go to fleet. had to fly the next morning. i asked when you’d next be coming to visit. you laughed in my face. stamped out the truth on an envelope in cold hard gold pen. asked me if that was spelled out easy enough to understand.

carrying the truth with me i walked into the sea. tearing the soggy paper to shreds as i waded further. at first you chased me. pleaded with me. rolled your eyes at the scene i was causing. asked me not to do this. eventually you just held me under.

even in my dreams you abandon me.

you don’t understand, this is why i get shocked when i see you naked sometimes. because when i’m with you, i forget you’re a girl, or a boy. i forget i’m in america, or england. i’m just everywhere, & anywhere. i’m with you. & if i don’t follow you over there, i’m ripping my own heart out. because missing out on some of the things i have here for a few months means nothing when i have the girl.
stateside, day 40. hannibal, missouri (how to give someone your soul with a kiss).

in the last 24 hours i’ve learnt the expert way to blow a bubble with bubble gum, give a love bite, & that the smell of fresh laundry & soft skin make the best cuddling material. the smell of factor 50 & bug spray has seeped into my pores & i’ve never been more grateful for a cold shower, or a fan as a present, or for the fact that it’s ‘only’ 82°. or for a 44oz cup of orange crush from the gas station.

we smelt the corpse of the deer from at least ten feet away as we approached quinsippi island - of which the most exciting part consisted of a flock of geese, & the rush the rusted panels in the bridge gave you at the thought of plunging into the mississippi below. after having to shout over the noise the corcasias made in the woods & avoid stepping on their dying bodies that littered the sidewalks, i will never complain about english insects again. promise. i’ve used up an entire film on my camera in a day, seen a house built on the the foundations of an american dream - & partied beneath them -, listened to the story of the life of a 20-year-old gay male growing up in the mid-west, & paddled naked in a mississippi feed river.

i never knew how shot this medication has made my short-term memory until i tried to play a yamaha baby-grand piano. oh, & blowing your breath into someone else’s mouth until you’ve run out, then pressing their diaphragm to push out their last breath, is how denver ravers give each other their souls. that last breath is reserved to save your life.