Praise the Lord for Geek Night!

Wednesday night was one of the best nights of my life. Thursday morning was one of the worst hangovers of my life. David’s 18th was certainly a good one.
As I’m sure you could tell, it was David’s birthday, so we went out for it. I met at Keya’s sister’s house where Louisa, Brodie and Keya all already were. A slight bout of pre drinking then ensued before Eloise came to pick us up.
Before I carry on, I must let you know that David’s birthday was a themed one, and the theme was ‘Geeks’. Louisa looked like a slutty school girl was glasses. Brodie looked like a six year old prostitute. Keya looked like he was going to work. (I’m ripping their costumed to shreds to hype mine up more), and my costume was by far the best. I went all out! I had black jeans and a white shirt on; tucked in, of course! Under that, I had a Transformers top, Space Invaders boxers and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle socks. My father lent me his oversized tie with cartoon sheep making love on! I had a blazer, which had been cut into a waistcoat, I had parted my hair into curtains and I’d even found my old retainer and wore that. Put it this way, I looked hideous!
We rolled up at the pub in Eloise’s car and went inside to greet everyone. David was sat in the middle, and we gave him his oversized ‘To my Husband’ card, balloon and massive ‘18’ badges (by we I mean, Keya and Lou bought this, I took some of the credit). Keya then let David know that for his present, we’re giving him the ticket to go and see Lady GaGa again with Keya! In my books, that makes us pretty damn good friends, no?
Keya, Lou and Brodie ordered chips from the pub as they were hungry, and I went to the toilet. I came back to find out that Keya and Lou were getting kicked out because they didn’t have any I.D. Apparently, you’re not allowed to be in a pub after 9 if you’re under 18. So, with that, the majority of us stood outside in the smoking shelter and grumbled about the age limit, since, a fair few of us were underage! Brodie brought Keya and Lou’s chips out to them, and as soon as they started eating them, a member of staff appeared and told them that they had to ‘leave the premises’. They told him that they wanted to eat their chips. He wouldn’t let them. He wouldn’t let them take the plate either! He then threatened to call the police to which Lou replied ‘Oh, it’s okay. They’ll take about 20 minutes to get here, anyway, and we would have finished our chips.’. However, they ended up grabbing handfuls of burning hot chips, and walking out the pub complaining about the heat against their delicate skin. Wimps.
Regardless, Eloise drove us back to Keya’s sister’s house to pick up Lou’s I.D that she forgot, then to McDonald’s drive thru, then back to the pub to pick other people up before driving us to town. She did a lot of driving that night, dropping people off and picking people up, so, thank you very much. It was really, really helpful, especially since it was pissing it down!!
Then we got to the gay end of town; Anna, David, Louisa, Keya and I. We went into the club and started drinking. For some reason, I drunk a lot more than normal, downing shots of Sambuca and vodka lemonades. We drank, we danced, we make fools of ourselves. Then, Bad Romance came on. Keya and I are amazing at the dance, so, what did we do? Stood up on the dance floor and did the dance to Bad Romance. It was amazing! It was actually really cool. We then drunk some more.
At one point, we resided outside the club, probably smoking, and met some really cool people. We then sat on a wall opposite the club where Anna didn’t feel to good, so David told us they were gonna go home and a drunken Louisa and I put on our best Southern American accents (think True Blood) and started shouting about how “The homosexuals! And the blacks! Are going to hell!”. We also shouted “Praise the Lord!” a large amount too…
After getting over the ‘hallelujahs’, my memory is slightly hazy. Apparently, Keya tried to pick Lou up, but in his drunken state, he fell back and hit his head, knocking him out for five minutes. Lou said there were people coming up to her asking if he was okay, which she just brushed off claiming he was fine! This may have been the point where I texted Twitter saying “Fuck. I lost friends.” The next thing I remember, apart from a lot of erratic dancing and more drinks was Keya, for some reason, flicking his drink at Lou, who retaliated, and it all got a bit out of hand and soon, we were picking up random drinks and throwing them in each others faces!! I got it in my eye and the bubbles burned, so I ran into the toilet to rinse my face, and was shortly followed by Keya and Louisa. We ran the taps, filled up our cup and pursued to soak each other for the sole reason of amusement! We realised that we should probably leave before we got barred, so we ran out of the club, towards the taxi rank, giggling like schoolgirls. We got in the taxi, I sat in the front and maybe talked to the driver as I was most comprehendible out of all us three. We got back to Keya’s sister’s house and crashed out. This was between 3 and 4 AM.
We awoke sometime later morning and we all felt so crappy. I felt like I was going to vomit and my head was on the verge of exploding. My hair was ridiculous! It was all stuck up and half parted from my curtains! We just sat down in almost silence for a long time before realising we should probably go home. I got home, ate basically the whole house, and then went to sleep for 5 hours and woke up feeling a lot better, but still slightly sick. It’s taken me two days to not gag at the thought of alcohol, but would I do it all again? Hell yeah! That was a night to go down in history.

Epic life FAIL.

I remember a time when I’d post a blog pretty much once a week because I actually had exciting things going on in my life. I remember a time when I wasn’t drowning in a sea of coursework, using only the raft of procrastination as a float, which, to be honest, doesn’t get me anywhere, or keep me afloat very well. I remember a time when I wasn’t staying in to do coursework for subjects that I’m failing because I haven’t done the coursework, but then end up lying in bed watching Buffy instead!
Okay, that last part was a lie. I’ve always been a professional procrastinator. But still, seriously, at the moment, my life sucks!! I’m not going out because everyone has work to do, and that includes me. I’ve skived like 4 days off college in the past few weeks, which, for someone who attends every lesson unless there is a good reason, is really bad! I’ve also done several all nighters. Why? Because I needed to do my coursework. What did I do instead? Watch stuff online and molest Twitter. I could be using the time I’m wasting now to do something relatively productive, but no, I’m going to sit here and whinge about what I should be doing whilst refreshing Facebook every five minutes!
Exams start in three weeks apparently. I need to finish my coursework to a good standard and then learn, not revise, learn all the things I need to know for my exams! Another thing, to get into the university I want to go to, I need to get BBC. Now, all of this is totally not out of my reach. I don’t even really need to push myself to get that. I’m naturally smart, and good with exams. I just lack severely in motivation! Nothing appeals to me! I don’t want to write an article on how you have to talk like a man to get a good job! I don’t want to create a website analysing the opening credits of Buffy! I don’t want to think about how to direct a play! I just really, really can’t be bothered! I’ve even tried making everything more exciting by making it as gay as possible, like, using Xena and Buffy as example in my Media essay, or comparing Liz Feldman and Julie Goldman in my English. Nothing’s working.
Basically, I’m being a total whiny bitch because I’m freaking out about failing. I also have realised how much it’s gonna cost to go to uni. A lot. I’m also in debt by about £300 to my parents. The thing is, even if I did randomly go back in time and sprout an extra week, I can almost guarantee you I’d just spend it in bed doing shit all! I didn’t even go to the gym for two weeks because I couldn’t be bothered… My entire life lacks in motivation! Maybe I’m not pushing myself because I think I’m gonna fail and it’ll be less embarrassing if I fail without trying than putting the effort in and failing anyway. I don’t know. All I know is that unless I seriously buckle down I’m not going to uni. I have my deadlines in a few days. I’ve been telling myself I need to do this for months. I fail at life.
This academic year has gone so quickly, and I don’t feel like I’ve achieved much, bar making new friends! I’ll manage it. I always scrape by… Somehow!
On a good note though, my best friend of all time, Brodie, has started blogging, so I think you should check it out, because, to be honest, she’s almost as cool as me! It’s just a blog about stuff that happens in her life or things she finds interesting and amusing. I can pretty much guarantee that it’s gonna be good. So, check it out http://brodiedb.tumblr.com/ kthx.
So, now I’ve wasted a sufficient amount of time writing this, I feel I should stop. I probably shouldn’t have started, but it’s a lot more productive than making pterodactyl noises and talking with a gay lisp. Get over the fact that I’m kinda weird? Over and out! (I’m so lame!)

Post production edit: StumbleUpon.com is my new favourite website. It’s basically the procrastinators essential! And I’m not sure whether Stumbling Upon this: http://www.stumbleupon.com/su/24AieZ/asil.logicalinsanity.ca/300college%252520paper.html was ironic, or a sign…

Seven hours in London.

We woke up, showered, ate what food we had left (okay, that part was just me), and left the hotel room for 12. We then walked to a tube station, and went to the main part of London. We kinda had to spend the day in London ‘cause our coach back didn’t depart until 7 in the evening. So, to use up time, we went to the Alexander McQueen shop, for Keya (where he signed McQueen’s tribute book), Hamley’s for me and Selfridges and Harrods for David (he liked the idea of saying he’d bought things from those shops), among other places. We also went to McDonald’s for lunch, and Folding Chair by Regina Spektor came on!!
We also went to the Disney store where I bought Ella a Finding Nemo cup, Keya bought his nephew a really soft cushion and we all chipped in to buy Louisa a Monsters, Inc. toy, as it’s her favourite film and she didn’t come with us. She was incredibly happy with her Mike Wazowski soft toy.
We then found an attraction called Pasaje del Terror. Now, I am a total wuss. I absolutely hate any scary films, in fact, I have to watch Buffy with the lights on, I’m that much of a wuss! Keya, however, enjoys the fear factor, and David watches horror films purely to laugh at them. Bearing this in mind, I was sceptical about going in, we all were. It was £14 to get in, and we thought it might be a disappointment. However, the lady dressed up in a ridiculous Victorian style outfit was very convincing, so we went in, all ready to be scared. It was based on Jack the Ripper, and started with a 3D film in which really bad acting was followed by even worse CGI. None of us could take it seriously because of the actors they had probably picked up off the street and paid them a fiver. However, this did not stop David screaming like a woman when ‘Jack the Ripper’ jumped out. Keya and I looked at each other, disappointed, giving an expression like ‘Meh’, then looked at David and laughed.
Then our group was led (by a policeman) into a stupidly dark room, where the scariest thing was the fear of bashing into something and hurting yourself. He then stopped us, went through the safety part of the tour, and then pointed at Keya, and told him that he had to lead our group! David and I laughed, especially since Keya looked confused and scared! He then had to walk up a corridor to this door, and knock on it. Him flinching as a hunched over man in a brown hooded cape flung the door open was hilarious! The caped guy then said some stuff about Jack the Ripper and blah, blah, blah and then tried to make me jump by randomly lunging and stamping his foot right next to me. It didn’t work. We then carried on the tour with Keya leading, me next and David behind me. Keya was clutching onto me, scared to take another step into each section, so I shook him off and told him to ‘man up’. Then, the unexpected happened. I felt something on my arm, and it was in fact David grasping onto me! I told David to ‘stop being such a pussy’ and pushed him in front of me. We went through all these dark rooms with actors jumping out at you in each one. I didn’t even flinch. David screamed quite a bit and made hilarious comments such as ‘Hello, Mum.’ to the woman strapped to her bed screaming like a mental patient. Keya, however, jumped back, lost his footing and collapsed to the floor! Three times! It was hilarious and very Taylor Swift when Ellen jumped out at her! (If you didn’t get that, YouTube it… It’s amazing!) We arrived at the last room, and I, again, didn’t jump, but the foreign woman behind me who had been shrieking throughout, ran and pushed past me trying desperately to get out, which was rather amusing.
We then decided, after Keya and David had recovered, to go to Hamely’s, the giant toy store, which was pretty cool. After that, we decided it’d be a good idea to head off, so we started to, getting a Subway on the way. From this point and the majority of the coach journey, we actually got pretty deep! We were debating cosmetic surgery, size zero, and the effects this has on young girls (and boys), then we started talking about children, and what we’d do if we won the lottery. Then Keya and I, whilst waiting to be picked up, started talking in French accents to each other.
All in all, it was a really good couple of days, and despite the lack of sleep, epic trekking, and whatnot, if I was asked whether I’d want to do it again, I’d say hell yeah! So, thank you guys for making it an amazing trip.

I *heart* Lady Gay Gay

At 1:10 on Friday morning, I left. Not to return again until 10:30 on Saturday evening. Why? Because I was going to see Lady GaGa with Keya and David. How was it? Amazing.
So, as I said, I left my house at ten past one in the morning, as Tina, Keya’s sister was taking us both to the 24 hour ASDA where we met David. Armed with a video camera to document the trip and various other items, we set off, blasting Lady GaGa out from the CD player in the car. After meeting with David, and spending over an hour in ASDA buying £40 worth of food and drinks for the journey and searching for glitter for Keya, we went to get our coach which left at 3 AM. After boarding the coach, we all fell asleep within half an hour.
At 6 o’clock we arrived at London Victoria. We navigated our way to the o2 arena, and arrived there to see about 10-15 people there already waiting. It was only 7 in the morning, and doors didn’t actually open for another twelve hours! We then found out that the actual arena didn’t open until 10, so we waited, cold, tired and bored for three hours outside, and attempted to keep our spirits up by playing with our Kinder Egg toys.
Finally, we were let in the arena, and by that time there were about 30 people there. As we waited by the doors, we started talking to a woman who had been waiting there with her daughter since 4 AM!! The security guards finally let us in and there was a mad dash to get to the appropriate bay. Everyone wanted to be first! David and I dawdled, watching and laughing at everyone running past us, as we let Keya sprint ahead, to secure our spaces. When we got their, the woman who worked there told us that, as we were the first 100 people, we got to have priority spaces, which meant we got let in before everyone else (bar the people who paid hundreds of pounds for a ticket just to line the front barrier!) so we could get better spaces! By this time, it was around about 10 o’clock. We still had to wait another 8 hours before there’d be any sign of even getting in. We then got told that we might be getting wristbands which would secure our places in the priority queue meaning we could go off, book into the hotel, grab some food, and other stuff that didn’t involve sitting on a cold, hard floor. We never got these wristbands.
Throughout the day, we took it in turns to get Starbucks, pizza and go to the toilet. David and I also invented a game called ‘Where’s the Straight Guy?’ in which we had to point out the heterosexual males in the queue. We found 2 or 3, and they were with their girlfriends. Whilst we were waiting there, we met two lovely girls called Katie and Pixie. Then, at around 11:30, David and I went off to book into the hotel, taking everything we wouldn’t need with us. We then arrived back, only an hour later… We still had so much time to kill!
Eventually, the woman came round offering out wristbands to the ‘first 100’. Unfortunately, throughout the day this bastard group of people at the front had been letting their friends in. This, obviously, angered a lot of people who had been waiting there since the beginning, especially Keya, and as a group of 3 people walked in front of us, he kicked off. Now, what you have to understand is Keya kicking off isn’t like any normal person. He will belittle, bully and verbally abuse them with the first thing he can see physically wrong with them. He’s like an extremely bitchy girl! So, as these three people walked in front of us, Keya stood up and shouted ‘They pushed in!’ and he kept shouting that they had pushed in, with other people around us agreeing. He also claimed, very, very loudly, that because the guy was large he was ‘basically eating his Coke bottle’. The wrist bands were not revoked from them.
After the bands were issued, we were permitted to go off to wherever, but had to be back at 5:30. The three people who we accused of pushing in came up to us, and we actually found out that they were there even before us, it’s just; they had got changed during the day so we didn’t recognise them. We chatted to them, and everyone was fine about it and friendly (actually, the Asian guy next to me was getting a little too friendly, if you know what I’m sayin’! Damn my ‘easily mistake for a boy’ style!).
At 5:30, everyone was eager to go in, as we all presumed that’d be the time we would enter. Unfortunately, after already waiting for 10 and a half hours, we had to wait another hour for some unknown reason! Then, at 6:30, they were finally ready to search our bags, and let us in. Giddy from excitement, we all anxiously waited for them to let us in, as Keya worried about how he would hide his bottle of vodka from the bag searchers. Passing through the bag searchers, and power walking ahead of everyone else, I was thrilled to finally reach… Another fucking queue. This time, it was in a nice, freezing cold, dull corridor.
After literally half an hour of waiting there, bored, cold and constantly checking to see whether or not we were moving, we finally were let in. Keya, David and I ran to get to be the third row back from the front, on the left hand side of the stage! The arena filled up and the vast amounts of seating and floor space were all crowded up due to the concert being sold out!
Finally, after literally 14 hours of being in London, Semi Precious Weapons came on. They were a rock pop band, and I must admit their tunes were catchy. The front man was very ‘GaGa’, and he wore fishnet tights, with a strip to cover his crotch area, and was constantly showing his nipples. He controlled the crowd really well; especially considering his band was only the support band. At one point, he basically climbed onto the crowd, used someone’s willing arm as a support and almost dripped sweat all over us! Saying that, he did say that ‘this is rock and roll’, to which David and I both looked at each other, and said ‘Like fuck it is!’. His band mates, however, were complete tools. What they were wearing and the way they acted was like a young teens attempt at being a heavy metal band. It was cringe worthy. Oh, and the drummer kept spitting, which was kinda gross.
Then, on came Alphabeat, who were really good. I’ve never really been into Alphabeat, but they put on a really good performance. The lead woman was wearing high waist shorts, so David and I kept looking out to see if she had a camel toe so we could take a picture.
The curtains went down, and we then knew the next artist performing would be Lady GaGa. For some reason, she took ages actually coming on, and apparently we were also at a Michael Jackson tribute concert…? Literally, throughout the whole of the interval between Alphabeat and Lady GaGa, they played just Michael Jackson! I don’t even like Michael Jackson!!
Then, curtains up, and GaGa appeared on stage. Now, I couldn’t possibly write down everything that she did, but what I will say is that the choreography was incredible, the stage, the props, were amazing, the electric violinist, backup singers and other musicians were astounding and Lady GaGa herself was in a whole different league. I actually had to stop singing halfway through because my throat hurt so bad! The stage had a runway coming out of it, and the entire show was based on a Wizard of Oz like story. Keya was screaming the lyrics and singing all her songs, in the way she sings her songs live and shouting ‘Oh my God!’ at every possible moment. There were blow up trees, really attractive women, a giant fish monster, screen projections and so, so much more!
After she finished her performance, we left to get back to the hotel. David’s entire body hurt. Keya was on a massive high. And I just wanted to curl up in bed. We got back to the hotel, watched some TV, chatted a bit, ate some food, and then went to sleep, so we could be ready for spending 7 hours in London the next day.

This is the story of the scars on my arms.

This is the story of the scars on my arms. It’s not a pleasant one, but it’s one that happened a long time ago, that I feel like sharing. Not because I should, but because I want to. Also, I haven’t blogged in a long time, and since nothing interesting is happening currently, I shall delve into my past, just for you. I’m going to be bringing up things from years ago, from my childhood and adolescence. This is not for you to feel sympathy, or judge me. I’m not sure why I’m writing this. I just am. Also, I am not blaming anyone for what happened; not my family, friends, no one.
I was born into a well off family. My sister was 2 years and 10 months old at the time. I was born a second child, and remained that way until Ella was born, when I was 12. I’m pretty clever; I got a good education and went to good schools. My parents are still together, married, and I come from a nice area. My life has never been particularly hard.
Regardless, being a second child I constantly felt inferior to my older sibling. Growing up, I was kinda an angry kid. Apparently, I used to hit other children when I was in my pushchair! I would throw tantrums, I would scream and cry and I would lash out at my sister with serious intent to hurt her when we argued. Traits of a second child are hyperactivity, acting like they’re always in a race and, indeed, feeling inferior to the older sibling. I had all of these.
Up to the age of around 11, when I started karate, I had the worst anger management problems! I had no idea how to control my anger. I would bottle things up, and then take it all out on my family. I didn’t really get it fully under control until the age of about 15 though. I’m assuming I got this from my father. As a child, I remember him losing his temper really badly. It wasn’t constantly, but when it happened, it was bad. One time, he smashed all my sisters’ ornaments because she was naughty, or something. I got fed up of taking stuff out on my family at about 12, so I started self harming. The cuts were really small and pathetic, but I felt the need to do it. It only happened for a few months, and then I stopped. I am unable to recall why, or what I did instead. I think I started a diary during this period but then felt ridiculous reading it back, and even writing it, so I stopped.
Back to my sister; I really did feel like she was better than me. She’s stunning, femme, and popular, and I felt like I could never match up to her. I’ve always been a tomboy. In fact, I refused to wear dresses from the age of six! I constantly felt like she was more liked than me, not only by people in general, but also by my parents, and by boys. Now, you must understand that I actually thought I was into boys then. I came out as bisexual at 12 and a lesbian at 15, so I genuinely thought I liked boys up until I was 15. I didn’t have a ‘proper’ boyfriend up until I was 12 and that lasted for nine days! I was then single until I was nearly 15, which seemed ages! My sister was definitely in the popular group at school. She had, and has, amazing fashion sense, makeup and hair, so understandably, she was popular! Especially, in the all girls grammar school we attended. I, on the other hand, didn’t understand fashion one bit. If I looked good, that’s because my sister chose what I wore. I had shoulder length hair which was in the same style constantly, unless my sister did it, and as for makeup, well, that was just mascara and eyeliner occasionally. I tried to look femme to live up to societies and my mothers standards. This, understandably, left me feeling low, as I knew I could never be what I felt like my mother wanted me to be, and left me feeling even more inferior to my sister.
Then at 15, I got my first girlfriend. We were together for almost two months, I believe. Basically, before we got together, we were friends, and then after I found out she was bisexual and single, I felt immediately attracted to her. We fell in ‘love’ and I wanted everything to be perfect. I constantly felt like I wasn’t good enough for her, which was only emphasised by my already low self esteem. All I knew of love was in the movies; I was the man, she was the woman. I was the protector, and I felt like I failed at my job. Also, she made me feel inadequate, unworthy and generally like shit. I don’t remember how, it was probably her not paying me enough attention all the time, and how everything wasn't perfect, but I remember she did. That was when I started to cut myself again. I remember showing her, and feeling really guilty, but she was very supportive. She said I was stupid, but she didn’t make me feel bad. A few weeks later, she broke up with me. It hurt me. We got back together probably within the week, but it still hurt. She then broke up with me again, about a month later. A few days after, I went to a beach party to celebrate my friends’ boyfriends’ birthday. There, I met a guy. I texted my ex to let her know that he said he wanted to kiss me, and how I found it hilarious, but reassured her nothing would happen. She said it was fine if anything did because we weren’t together. I told her I wanted her back. She said we would discuss it the next day. I then ended up drinking and talking to this guy. We both spoke about our exes, he told me about his music career, and then we ended up kissing. At this point, I was very drunk, and decided it would be a good idea to go back to his house. He ended up taking my virginity in front of a beach hut. Classy, right? I knew it was happening, but I felt nothing. I felt empty. I remember just staring up at the stars in the sky. We then went back to his house, and I slept straight away. In the morning, he took me back to my house, and I then knew I had to speak to her. We met up, and I told her what happened. She said she never wanted to talk to me again. I tried to explain, but she ignored me. I went back to my house, got drunk, and held a knife above my arm and slashed down, creating three big gashes on my forearm. They started bleeding, a lot, and I got scared, so I text her telling her what had happened, and her and her friend helped to patch me up. She then hugged me and I felt like it was all better. Unfortunately, we didn’t get back together, and I continued to self harm.
School on the Monday was the worst thing. I remember everyone knew about what had happened with the guy, so they were asking me questions, and I had to pretend to be happy, when really, inside, I was embarrassed, ashamed and hurting. All of her friends knew, and they hated me.
I knew I had to do something about my self harm, so I booked a doctors appointment. My doctor was possibly the loveliest person in the world, and we totally had a conversation about skiing one time! I saw my doctor once a week and we discussed what was happening. I didn’t tell her why I cut myself, because I was ashamed of sleeping with that guy and nervous about telling her that I’d had a girlfriend, so I stupidly left her in the dark and told her I didn’t know why I did it. Then, one day, I was called into the Head of Years office. Apparently, my ex found it appropriate to tell her exactly what had happened. Not only did I despise that woman, but I also hated how my ex had got the school involved in my business. I was forced to see the schools councillor once a week, regardless of the fact that I was also seeing my doctor. I also developed an extreme dislike for this woman too. Not only was she old, with a weird nose, but her name sounded suspiciously like ‘urine’. Mrs Uren made me do stupid colouring exercises, and questionnaires. I didn’t let her into anything because I didn’t want to be there. I knew I had a problem, but being forced into seeing the school councillor was not my idea of a jolly time.
I was still moping over losing my ex, and we got to the point where we were friends, but she knew I longed for her back. Then, I had a revelation. I didn’t need her. I was never in love with her. In fact, she was a total bitch. She then told me she wanted me back. I said no. Then, after an argument, we stopped talking completely. As soon as we stopped talking, I didn’t feel the need to harm myself anymore. I stopped seeing the school councillor. I stopped seeing my doctor. I just… Stopped! The only problem was I had these enormous gashes up my arm, which I was exceedingly self conscious about. Throughout the last few months of school, I kept them covered up and didn’t let anyone else know about them; although, I’m sure they had their suspicions. I was still getting abuse from her friends, but I didn’t care. It didn’t affect me. I was in my own utopia and no one could pull me out of there.
That summer was amazing. At the risk of sounding super lame, I felt I really discovered myself. I got my hair cut short, started wearing guys clothes, and my best friends mum said that I looked more like ‘Tash’, and I felt a lot more like me too! I then came out as a lesbian, got a job, well, two actually, and then started college, where I gained a whole new group of amazing friends. My scars had healed, but were still visible, but I felt a lot more confident about them, and about myself, so I didn’t hide them, and anyone who asked, I told them the story I am telling you now.
I do not condone self harm, in fact, especially going through it, I think it’s a pointless and stupid way of expressing your emotions, but for me, going through that lead me to a much richer way of life. I’m now stupidly confident with myself. I love everything in my life, I rarely get angry or upset, and I know how to deal with bad things when they go on. I have amazing, amazing friends, my education is going well and I’ve completely stopped self harming.
Also, I do not hate my ex, in fact, in a way, I am grateful for what has happened, because I feel like I am a better person now, and I think that shows. I would also like to thank anyone who helped my through it because I can imagine I wasn’t a joy to be around when I was depressed, and to the people I’ve told, thank you for being mature and understanding about it. And that’s my story.