Promise. poem

I promise,
you will enjoy every meal you eat
and I'll never let you starve
you'll have every advantage that I never did
you'll never feel cold inside
I'll never say "Just live with it"
I will take care of you,
I'll make sure you feel every bit of what you're worth
one day when I am lucky enough
to be blessed with children like you
never will you cry because of something I did or didn't do
you'll never not want to come home
because home is hell for you
my weaknesses you will never see
you'll strive to be more like me
Christmas will be magical
every birthday too
when you're one year old, even when you're sixty two
You won't miss out, or be left behind
I will be there for you, anywhere, anytime
I'll put your needs before mine.
Your childhood will be the best
I will work every moment from this moment on
to ensure that I'm your hero, from the moment you're born.
You'll love the memory you have of me, above all the rest
one day when I have children, and I am truly blessed.

inner fears. poem

I don't want to be like these people
please God, I can't stand it
to end up like them
a fear I've held since before I was ten
don't leave me here,
don't give up on me
I'll prove myself,
I thought I would have already
Why send me here?
is it a test?
I'm meant for so much more
But you put me here,
and I'm trying to break down this door.

time

If I could finish a book I know things will pick up. I know it. I know it because I have faith in my work. I might write crap on this blog and its more of a diary than a serious study into anything but my books are a different story. They have heart and soul in them. They're good. My stories are good. I know they will look after me, I just need time, that's all I need. I need time to pause for a few months.

An awful thought. poem

I had an awful thought yesterday.
It was fleeting and momentary
but it was there, real and pure
A terrible thought, an awful thought
wouldn't it be better if you weren't here
it evaporated in guilt from my head
but what if...wouldn't it just be easier
if you were dead.

Three girls, a brick wall, a father who's not mine

There a three little girls I have in my life who I adore utterly and completely. I feel more than lucky to be a part of their lives, I feel privileged. I don't mention them a lot in my blog for privacy and protection reasons and for such reasons I will not reveal their ages or names. So let's call them Alison, Rose and Poppy. The affection and love I feel for these darlings surpasses anything I have felt for anyone/anything else, I can't imagine what I will feel like the day I hold my own child, if it's anything similar I am certain I'll pass out with joy.

These girls make my hardest day easy, they make the blackest situation seem bright and full of hope. There's no one I would rather be around on a daily basis. I wish they were mine. The love they show me unconditionally is overwhelming particularly in situations far more advanced for their ages. When I was broken up about the Keyholder their innocent shockingly understanding attitudes made the world of difference. I wanted to set a good example to them, I would be strong and pick myself up so they could remember it and take experience from me, so god forbid they end up with a crushed heart, they feel confident to do better for themselves. Today it was their beautiful faces that pulled me out of a dark cloud.

Today I hit a brick wall and crumbled at the obstacle. Because the obstacle is out of my hands, and it wasn't my fault. Maybe it is my fault, maybe I should force myself to keep a full box for a 'rainy day' but frankly most of the time, I hardly have enough for the here and now let alone thinking ahead to a maybe crisis. I've been trying everyday, every morning and every evening it's the first and last thing I do: Look. I look for an opportunity, for a chance to be more than what I was born into.  If no one has a little faith to give me a chance how will I ever prove myself?

I have no one to turn to in these situations, no one I'm comfortable to turn to. I may as well be an orphan for the support and help I receive from my parents is slim to none. Scratch that....it's none. I have been looking out for myself since I was eleven years old, and it's so hard for people to believe. One day I'll write about it, in detail, and maybe that will be one of my best sellers.

Most people have the same idols, the people who they aspire to be like, most people hope and pray they are half such a person...but those two people for me are my worst nightmare. I have two people I would give my right arm to ensure I don't end up like. A waste of space and oxygen, and a selfish prick.

In contrast, my brother James, as quiet and as surly as he can be sometimes, is a pillar of strength and a beacon that shines 'It's going to be ok'. When has my own father ever said such a thing to me? or ever made me feel worth anything? or even safe?...never that I can recall. I can only hope and aspire to be as brilliant a parent as James is to his girls. He is the ideal of a father, and I can't help wishing, and have wished this before that he was my father too

Change his mind

There was a look that came back to me in a dream lately. A look on a persons face, a mixture of pity (which was tough to handle) and of boredom. As if whatever ties had held him for so long were truly cut. Like he was accepting this inside himself as he stood before me. He looked at me and we both knew that for a while it had been coming and now at this moment he had changed his mind, about me, about everything.

The dream I had recently was brutal. I still haven't shook it off and it's been a week. It felt so real.
I don't want to ever see that look again.
I don't want him to look at me and change his mind.

I wish I could get that dream out of my head.

That woman

I can't get that woman out of my head.

It's not as if I haven't seen women like that before, and the entitle thought in my mind, in most girls minds when confronted with a woman like this is: Tart  it's a word us good girls learn from our mothers, in a hushed tone with plenty of distaste and just a hint of jealously. Despite the fact that that word rang in my head, I am also one of those girls who can't help but swoon over those women. You know who I'm talking about?

The woman wearing a dress even though its raining
The woman in scarlet red when having a casual lunch in the middle of the day
The woman wearing heels no matter what the occasion
The woman who answers the door looking like the new star of a movie when its 10am and the rest of us are in P.J's
The woman all the men fancy, without fail.

They have an aura, a glow about them, it's that illusive sex appeal, the Marilyn Monroe glow.

I admire these women, even if I immediately think: Tart  I still can't help but feel complete awe and appreciation because they have what I want. You read all the time that its not being blessed with beautiful features and a size 6 body that makes a woman undeniably sexy. This woman was not beautiful. I also have doubts that she would look half the same without all the makeup on at 3am but she had the sex appeal. It radiated from her in her confidence and rather than sitting there being pissed off and feeling like shit in my blue jeans and white vest I was contemplating how I might be more like her, I was admiring her quietly and trying to work out what it was about her that made her stand out. The red hair definitely. I already took that step when I started dying mine as bright red as I can get. I didn't like the way she wore hers, it was short but big, it aged her I thought, a sleek smooth pixie would have been hot as hell. I've done that before, it doesn't work so well on me. She wore sophisticated well put together clothes, but really it was just her confidence. I knew as soon as I saw her profile as I walked into the room that she was confident in herself and nothing knocked it. Or at least she gave a damn good impression of this.

I never used to care about looks and fashion and appearing attractive. The years I spent with the Keyholder I couldn't care less what I looked like. I rarely made an effort, I never wore heels, I barely wore dresses. Jeans, T-shirts and jumpers were my entire wardrobe. I just never thought about it. Back then I only owned black and white bras and the same average 6 in a pack knickers. It's hardly surprising that went down the toilet is it?  Since I've been with my Mr Jones my attitude has completely altered. I think about these things, I want to look as attractive as I possibly can. I know its all rooted deeply from this fear inside of me, but it haunts me.

I never want him to look at me and change his mind.

sitting missing you. poem

And we're back here again,
sitting, missing you
I'll wait another day
one that lasts a thousand years
we'll both think of you
until we're back in your arms
sitting missing you
is easier than having a beating heart

Song: Can't stop thinking about you

Song attempt:
Can't Stop Thinking About You

Yes I know baby it's late,
and I don't really know what to say
just that since you kissed me goodnight
I can't stop my heart beating slow
as if it might stop, don't you know?
Don't you know?
I can't stop thinking about you,
I've just been thinking about you,
I can't stop thinking about you.

I've got a one track mind
and your the train I've jumped on
I don't know what you've got
but its holding me strong
yes it's crazy, I don't really have much to say
just that I can't stop thinking about you,
It's my new favourite thing,
just thinking about you,
can't you feel it?
I can't stop thinking about you

This fascination I've got
do I call it love, or is just lust?
I don't know what,
I just know that you're on my mind
day and night
I just wanted to tell you,
I've been thinking about you,
all I ever seem to do
is think about you
can't stop thinking about you

a letter to me

If I could write a letter,
and send it back to me
I'd say just keep on waiting
it'll happen eventually
I'd say give up on that year of maths
you manage without
learn to bloody swim! You're still afraid you'll drown.
I'd say punch that bitch in the face
because you should see her now
Don't be so shy, eventually you find out how.
When you're fifteen its hard to see past Friday night
but I promise you're doing alright
Let him go- he's not right for you
and hold onto that best friend, the one you're gonna lose
put that vodka down, okay, it was just a few sips
easy on the mars bars, it's all going to your hips
Don't ignore that girl is history class, the one who took your A ;-)
she's your best friend these days!
Hug those little girls even tighter, they mean everything
Get focussed on that book, it's still not bloody finished!
Bobbie dies: you cry every night for three weeks
Stop staring at your chest! They turn up eventually :-)
catch your breath and follow your instinct
Waitressing is one of the best things you ever did
Kiss that guy in the apron, you missed your chance there
but at least you finally cut your hair! no really!
six years from now you've lived a few dreams
we jumped from the sky and flew thirteen thousand feet
and the friends who walked out of the refec that day
are the ones you're going to keep.
and a year ago you met the real man of your dreams.
Things are going well, we're only twentyone years down the line
everything is fine. everything will be fine.
put sun screen on your face, protect your wrinkly skin!
P.S. Vote for Darius, he didn't win!!!

The kitchen floor again

I woke up at a few minutes to 6am with tears rolling down the sides of my face. Big fat flooding tears. Within a second or two I felt my nose running an obscene amount and had to search for a tissue in the semi darkness. I couldn't stop crying for a minute or two until I calmed down and realised that what had upset me had been a dream, none of it had happened, the day I had dreamt about hadn't even come into being yet. My pillow was so damp I've had to change the cover. When I got out of bed and got dressed I had to put cold compress on my really pink poofy eyes to calm them before venturing downstairs, or risk my mother fussing and not understanding what's happened because nothing had happened, it was just a bad dream.
You think as a child, as a comfort to yourself, that when you're grown up you'll be too old for nightmares, but really the monsters just change form. They change from ghosts and dark demons under the bed into insecurity and fears of abandonment. I clearly have some deeply rooted psychological issues that I will probably discuss with a therapist one day, but for now they just seem to come up in the occasional bad dream.

The really strange thing is that I feel fine all the time, I don't show these insecurities, I don't voice them out loud to anyone. I don't even think they're there most of the time. I wouldn't say they effect me or my life on a daily basis at all. They certainly don't seem to effect my relationship with Mr Jones as that is all wonderful. But still, every now and then I sleep and in my dreams I am haunted by these visions and these real life feeling events that shock me to the core and I either wake up feeling strange and unsettled for the whole day, or it's worse, they've hit me hard and I wake up in a cold sweat of panic or floods of tears, it doesn't last long once I'm awake and I realise it wasn't real but for those few minutes of first waking up there I was again, lost and alone, sitting crying on the kitchen floor.

It's actually my birthday today. So now that awful moment has passed and I realise I am not left alone heartbroken and in pieces. I am happy, I have a wonderful life, I am going to hug Jones so hard when I see him later.

Sun in next-doors yard

From my window I can look down into next doors garden and see that the sun hits their grass hours earlier than it hits my patio outside. It's extremely annoying because they hardly go out into their garden and have now bought a trampoline for their brat, which will no doubt be the cause of much racket and crying when he comes off it. I use the word brat not because I am referring to just any child, as a general rule I'm fond of children, but this one is not yet at school age and he's already a terror. I know, I live in the room that's next to his. The little swine screams and squeals like a girl and his mother screams back and he is clearly one of those 'crying out for attention-spoilt in everything else' kind of kid. He's their only one, thank god for that. I've heard him bashing stuff up, I reckon he must kick the door or something similar. More than once I've felt like posting a 'how to be a better parent' leaflet through their door. If the wretched mother ever does venture outside, it's only to sit smoking like lung cancer is fashionable and watch and shout at her brat. Sometimes I feel a bit sorry for the brat in fairness. If he were mine I am pretty damn sure he would be a very different child in his temperament. I'd make a brilliant mother one day. I'm not dwelling on that, I refuse to be broody.

I have to wait at least another half hour until the tiniest slither of my yard is bathed in sunlight and I can sit in it. I'm already so desperate for a job that I'm leaving my laptop on constantly with my C.V and cover letters open on the desktop just in case I suddenly get a call and have to go through a phone interview. I am so organised and prepared it's practically a scandal that I haven't been called yet. Don't these people know that if they employed me they wouldn't just get a hard working dedicated employee but give or take a few weeks they would adore me. People always do. Some are harder to break than others but eventually when I spend days of time with people particularly in a professional setting they roll over for love of me because oddly enough I'm jolly and funny and I like food. I am sickeningly nice to everybody, never say a bad word about anyone and after the sickening moment has passed they find all this rather endearing. It makes my life easier when people adore you and look forward to seeing you. I'm that bright bulb that cheers a workforce up. I've had the odd argument with people at work etc and no matter if I've fought back and given it just as good you know what happens? They later find me out and apologise! because and I quote "You're the nicest person, I feel so bad" ! :-o so...Someone really ought to employ me. I'm talented, I'm confident, I have all the general write up, give me a year I'll prove how awesome I can be if given a chance, but the important bit most people don't think about: I am a pleasure to work with, you will want to see me everyday, you'll look forward to it.
Someone employ me! I am awesome. I am now going to sit in the sun and write my book. If I am to be without work for a little while I will at least be productive.

Friday

It's my birthday in less than a week. Everyone keeps popping up asking what I'm doing on Friday like its the day I win the lottery! What am I expected to say? I'm getting older, probably getting a grey hair beneath the red dye as we speak, I'm another year closer to death for Christ's sake! Why should I want to celebrate that?
I'm awfully depressed about this birthday. Worse than I felt last year. This year I'm officially on the wrong side of 20 and it's going to be a few sleeps, a Christmas here and there before I'm mid twenties and dreading thirty like it's the plague. Twilight was shit wasn't it!? The whole storyline, Bella should have been with Jacob but I figured out why she gets with Edward, immortality, looking young FOREVER, well case closed really.

If this was Pride and Prejudice I would be regarded as getting on into a critical unmarried stage. Women were 'out' by 16 and married by '18-20' after 20 people start looking at you wondering if you're going to be an old maid!

I felt a lot like this when I turned 18. There were no woo hooing or balloons. I didn't even like the tiniest amount of alcohol in my drinks then so it was a pointless age really. That's when I composed my Bucket List. I felt lost and miserable, hating my first year of uni thinking it was a waste of time and not sure what to do with my life, so I wrote a list of what I did want to do and suddenly found myself feeling like a bit of an adrenaline junkie because I needed that shock to the system to remind me I was alive. This sounds terribly dramatic but I really was that bored. My skydive sent a sort of charge through me, a charge that seemed to last more than just the day. Indoor rock climbing was near to a similar charge when I was scared of being so high, once I got over the fear that faded. My hot air balloon ride wasn't an adrenaline shot it was more of a lasting memory experience. I suppose I'm one of those people that needs out of the ordinary experiences every now and then to shock me out of average life and make me feel ok.

I'm turning 21 and I have only a handful of things to show for the two decades I've spent on earth. I wish more than ever that I could at least say I have stepped out of this country, if only for a short while. My feet have never left UK soil, that's so awfully sad and it's not my fault. If I had ever had any money I could spare on catching a plane somewhere I would have done. So far in my life my money earn't and student granted, has gone to looking after myself, paying for uni, and paying for life in general. I can't even brag about having a few items of "I really want that" clothing because all my stuff is either charity shop or Primark under £15. The occasions I have been out clubbing I have guarded my money like a Gringotts goblin and spent the minimum. I have budgeted on everything. Every time I've saved something's happened and I've had to fork out for it. Even when I was working every shift I could in the early months of waitressing I had to pay my dad to pick me up and drive me home past 11 O'clock every night. I could have never afforded a foreign trip even if I'd tried to.

I am listening to my Bucket List song in the background: "Sitting on the Dock of a Bay"-Otis Redding. It's a brilliant song, one of my dad's that he used to play in whatever busted up old van we were driving in at the time. My second Bucket List song is "Run"-Lighthouse Family. Equally as brilliant. Both these songs make me think of driving along and going somewhere, I'm in that mood again. The sudden sparkle of sunshine and warm days isn't helping. I'm in that run away mode of thinking, as if I could run away from my birthday and just not get old. I don't feel like my life is very valuable, it doesn't seem to be of great importance to anyone (now that sounds suicidal, which I do not intend) but other than me who does my life directly effect? Nobody who wouldn't forget after a few weeks of my presence not being around. I don't even have a goldfish that relies on me to feed it.

I haven't built anything, or achieved anything yet. I have no legacy, I have no anything! I am going to re-evaluate my bucket list and see what's achievable this year. The answer is nothing if someone doesn't employ me soon. I wish I had a job just so that I could focus on something other than age. I hate having empty days now, Jones is hard at work and I have no university and no job, it doesn't feel like a summer holiday it feels like a damn waste, it's only been a week and a bit. I want a job for something to do until I am with Jones on an evening and weekend. When I'm in his company I am nowhere near so blue, I just feel content if we're in the same room, it's when I'm on my own that I dwell. I'm bored. bored, bored, bored. I need some substance. Writing my book is going great but until writing books makes me something whether it be money or recognition I wont feel as if it's contributing to my life as an adult. I need an income. I need it soon.  

As much as I do

It's like someone running a lighter across your bare skin, the flame licking at your flesh the heat sinking into your blood and burning it. It's like having a headache, even when you try to think about other things your mind's constantly darting back to that. Every curve, every contour, each freckle, every shade of colour in those eyes, are all branded in my mind and the memory of sensation is a constant ache inside.
A man with a never ending hard on, that must be the only equivalent. Imagine how that would feel. Thirst that's unquenchable, heat that's never cooled down. That is how I feel every time I think about your god forsaken hateful face. No one will ever want you as much as I do.

I wonder

I wonder what would have happened if I hadn't gone to bootcamp that night, if I'd bailed and stayed at home ignorant of how important that evening was going to be in my life. Would he have messaged me anyway? What if someone else had walked through the door that precious moment he looked up? Would he have fallen in love with that person instead? Was it that night that was so crucial or were we headed in the same direction all along anyway? I'll always be so glad I walked through that door that night.

I miss you

This is rather ridiculous it's only been four days, I haven't seen Jones since Sunday night, but I miss him. I suppose if I was at work I would be too busy to miss him but as it is I'm spending my days researching jobs and applying while all the time knowing I have nothing to look forward that evening because I'm not seeing him. When on earth did what I look forward to the most become hanging around my Mr Jones's room? I'm sure I'm just hormonal or something, but when half asleep last night I got a text message from him that read "I miss you" I felt a complete and utter moment of misery before my head crashed back down. I was out cold for most the night but I woke up and felt the same. When is it that someone who you once had no idea even existed in the world suddenly becomes the most important thing in yours? When did I start relying on someone other than myself to ensure my happiness is intact? I have admitted one too many times that I fell and fell deep and I'm not happy about it. Love sucks, who needs it I say! But in love I am and that's that isn't it? Well I'm still not used to the idea and I'm still annoyed about the whole thing, I gather I'll be annoyed about it for the rest of my life should he always be in my life, and even he did sod off I suppose I'd still be annoyed. Annoyed that I was now going to prison for murder,
haha. joke
sort of
not really, I'd murder him, I bloody would. I'd rather spend my life locked up and no longer able to think about God without guilt then let that man be with someone else now. I suppose that's when you know its that crazy, can't eat, can't sleep kind of love. Well I can eat, I can always eat! But you see my point. I'm not openly the jealous sort, but I am rather possessive over what's mine. I am not much a fan of sharing, not my clothes, nor my food, or even my hairbrush. And he is mine, he belongs to me now and that is that. I won't budge on the subject.

This new job isn't all it was cracked up to be at first. Alternating weeks of late shifts and early shifts and every other Saturday is lousy. I would rather be with a pauper. If it were something he was passionate about and loved I would feel differently, as it is I know he's starting to grate at him shredding bits off and if he's unhappy I'm unhappy. Christ I might as well be married. Let's not go there, I'm feeling old enough as it is. When work stops you from leading even a semi decent social life it's rubbish, but when it stops you from doing anything other than eating and going straight to bed its damn right sick. I'll never be rich, I'll never make a substantial amount of money unless I became famous for writing. I don't have the killer instinct, nor do I have the tolerance for too much work. Not the boring, difficult kind that makes money.
When you're a child and it's a week before Christmas it seems to last a life time, Christmas eve lasts even longer. You get into bed while the sun is still up hoping you'll wake up and it will be morning. I feel like that now. I will see Jones for a few precious hours tomorrow evening and I will clutch at those hours like oxygen, but right now tomorrow feels too far away. I really am unbelievably annoyed with myself for being so utterly crazy about this randomer.

Turning 21 getting old

I always appreciate the blossom trees when they bloom, and they last such a short time, barely even a fortnight that one can't help but savour every moment of them. They seemed to last an even shorter time this year, and as soon as the petals fell it seemed the lilac sprung into bloom to replace it. I love the smell of lilac, patches of purple splashing around up random front yard fences. It's already May. University has ended not just for summer but forever. I feel a tad lost because I have no job to walk into, but hopefully this won't last long. It's my birthday in a few weeks time and I'm dreading it, less than last year but it's still bothering me. I always said I wasn't afraid of death, being a believer of the afterlife. But I'm afraid of getting old. I'm afraid of those two fine wrinkles beneath my eyes kind people call laughter lines but I call them proof of deteriation. Mr Jones and I have been together a little over a year now and I wonder how long it will be before he looks at my face with the memory of our first meeting and thinks Christ, her youthful bloom has well and truly faded. I've never been a vain person, I've never liked my looks but I appreciate that I am young with a decent complexion, it won't be more than a few blinks and a few sleeps before my youth has tumbled away just like those sodding blossom petals. When I was 14 people always thought I was 17-18. It was always cool, looking older, and now I feel like a fool for ever thinking it was a good trait. I am going to be 21 in a few weeks, that's not even ten years from 30. I have wondered more than once if I had children or even a house or something of substance in my life would I feel differently about the coming of age. I feel like times soaring past and I have nothing much to show for my existence. I've spent 21 years never stepping off English soil. Now that's rather miserble. I'm dwelling. This is all because of uni finishing I'm sure. In the same month as my birthday. My childhood is well and truly over. I can't even remember the last time I blew candles out on a birthday cake. It's a shame we can't wish to be forever young. I'm turning into bloody Dorian Grey 

friends. poem

I miss you more when your name lights my screen
and the pleasant reminder of 'my dear' sweeps me back
I wish for a moment we weren't growing up
that we were still in college innocently rolling around in the grass
awkwardly standing at house parties, drinking vodka from a plastic cup
but our lives are running away from us and times flying fast
It's like we blinked, we just took a nap
and woke up as grown-ups, can you imagine that?
that we grew up and didn't realise
that we all wouldn't be by each others sides
a photograph of friends,
is the best memory we've made
and now it comes to an end
and those pictures start to fade