The Promise

30 10 2008

I was 16, started my first job and feeling scared and very unsure. I had just come through what I call now my ‘forgotten year’ – I’ll tell you about that one day when I have the courage to write it without worrying that people will think me insane and incredibly strange – and I covered my lack of confidence and strength by being difficult. I was over opinionated, defensive and I lacked direction, but most of all I lacked a confidante, a friend, someone to turn too, in a world so full of loneliness and bitterness my only prayers were for someone who would understand.

Anthony was a couple of years older than me, not the most drop dead gorgeous person I have ever met in my life, but the most attractive person I have ever known, how’s that you think? Easy, everything about him was almost bewitching, he was funny, he was nice and he made me feel like I was a complete person again, something which at that time meant more to me than any amount of money could have ever done.

We worked together, he was a van driver, I worked in the office, we was joined together by our loathing of the hatred of the wages we were paid and the boredom of the job, we became friends, good friends.

He gave me confidence to put my life back together and I found the courage to contact an old friend and she and I began to go out drinking/clubbing/shopping etc and one night I went to a club with her (and a bloke who apparently liked me – it seems nasty I guess when I look back now, but he got lost in the equation and I remember little about him that night) and Anthony was there. The drunker I got, the more I realised that if I never told Anthony I liked him I would never know if he felt the same, so I did. Just like that, a drunken conversation and you know what? He did feel the same, we kissed right there in the middle of the club like you do after you both own up to liking each other in your teenage years and that’s where it all started.

We went out for ooohhh maybe a month or two *smile* I was a bitch just as I always have been. And well, he figured me out too easy. He saw through the façade and was honest enough to tell me to shut the fuck up when I went into a fit. But he couldn’t stop me hurting myself and everyone around me with my un-rational emotions and in the end my emotional un-stability was just too much for him to be around.

Sometimes it was like we were normal teenagers, sneaking around to spend time with one another when one of out parents were out, meeting his friends and walking miles to see each other. But other times, the strangeness of me, the separateness of my life was held there for all to see, the way I lacked basic social skills, I would sit in a room so quiet with all his friends, never joining in looking scared and unsure, and then afterwards the angry person would rear her head. I lacked basic understanding of how the world worked, the time to be quiet and the time to speak. I feel both pity and hatred for the young girl I was back then.

We never slept together back then, I was 16 and quite naïve at that – but there started the most unusual emotional tie of my life. After that my life took on a new turn, the phone started ringing, I started living, I still never calmed down, we all know that’s only just something I have been working on recently, sort off. But I got better… I got better at hiding it anyway and got on with things. But every couple of months, years whatever we would drift back together, I felt tied to him. I know he had girlfriends but I never asked about them and he never told me. And then when I was 18, after a drug-induced night, I slept with him. He was my first, I was happy and I knew in my heart I was going to love him forever – whether he wanted that love or not – so I never regretted it, quite the opposite as the years have passed and my promiscuity has intensified I look back now at that time as the most cleanest time of my being – it’s a sad type of life when there has been so many men but I can hand on heart say only two have been emotionally linked to me and felt the same emotion back.

So on the story went, I would see him every few month we would sleep together, talk a lot, I would get to be close to him – I never asked him for me than he gave. I guess in my heart I knew he wouldn’t give, couldn’t give it to me – I didn’t deserve more, not from someone like him.

He was my friend, he was the person who rescued me from a hundred crazy situations, the person who would come round and tell me to sort myself out when I looked on the verge of losing it. He stood my ground many times and told me what he thought honestly in the privacy of our own conversations, I loved him all over again every time I saw him. I wanted him for more than just a physical side, I wanted him emotionally, I wanted the person who saw me for what I really was to tell me that he accepted the real me and could love the person I was back. That never happened and each time the rejection came to me we would blow, arguments would come and we could spend months without speaking.

Then he stopped ringing, changed his number and I never knew the new one, I heard random things about him through the grapevine, mainly about a girl he was with. Then a couple of years later I met up with him in a bad situation, I got with a bloke who I fell for as hard, though in a different way as I did Anthony, he didn’t like it – they were friends – and we end up arguing, after that we never spoke for a long time and both got on with our own lives. I heard he had a kid with that girl.

We started talking one night in a club about 2004 time, just as friends, I remember thinking things would never be the same. He had split up with the mother of his child and was on his own again. We started seeing each other again, it lasted a month or so and dwindled out, nothing major happened, it was just all very confusing, he was recently separated from his ex and I had a feeling he would go back to her. Once again I felt like I didn’t deserve his time.

After that we drifted back together a few more times, the same things happened, we made love, me laughed, we argued, we have both battled highs and lows with alcohol and drugs, we both partied too hard and too much though mostly separately what brought us together was something different. When I left the UK we were on good enough terms and have kept in contact since, through facebook and text’s etc. He has always been in the back of mind, its not something that is even subconscious, when I fail or when I fair well I wonder what he would think, what he would say or do if he was with me, he is like a silent guide on my shoulder who I hold my darkness too to see if it brings him light. What I do know is that if he is constantly in my mind right now.

Last night I sent a text message and he rang me today. We spoke for about half an hour and all I kept thinking was tell me something, give me a small grain of hope that if I came running you would catch me. He spoke about how we always have our arguments, but in the end we always find our way back to one another – I am pretty sure he meant as friends, as we all know I have never offered much in the way of emotions to anyone.

But what if I am meant to go back, what if I meant to go and try? People have told me that if I stop listening to the noise all around me I will hear what is being said in the quietness of my own being. What if I am meant to go back to the very start? What if the 11 years that has passed between then and now have meant something all along.

What if its time for me to go and be honest about the way I feel, without pretence without fear, if he rejects me now then maybe I would know that it was to never be. But if he doesn’t reject me, maybe I can try and be the person I know is inside of my somewhere the person who cares and has something to share not just the cold empty shell that people think I am.

I am always going to be difficult, I would not stake any type of bet on him wanting me, of even understanding why I am trying. But what if he really is where I was heading all along.


Insomnia, Tears and a kick in the teeth!

23 10 2008

I’ve been lapse in posting here, mostly because I was sick of thinking about the same things minute after minute, hour after hour .

Tonight I broke.

A few days ok I got offered a little work doing telesales from home, nothing too great but at least it was money. Thing is I didn’t have a phone line but I got around it by getting a SKYPE opt in number and using that, luckily for me it only cost just over 4 euro (per month) to set up and I was allowed to just pay one month, I just about had it in my UK account from money that I had got before. So home phoneline – check. Next, because the calls had to be routed through the PC I needed a headset thing so I had a mic … off I go to the Chinese shop and managed to buy one for 7 euros, headset check.

So off I go, and while the money isn’t going to help that much (10 euro’s the first day, 20 the next) at least it was something coming to me at the end of the month. I have nothing now. I don’t possess credit cards or anything so can’t go down the route so this little bit of money seemed like a life-saver.

This week has been hard, I’ve been living on pate and toast because I can’t afford to buy anything else, I haven’t had a cigarette in two days (which is enough to make me a crank anyway) I feel like a prisoner in this apartment, I can’t even go and have a coffee or a drink with my friends the only time I get out is when I actually make myself go for a walk or something just to feel like I’m still alive – I haven’t seen anyone because I just don’t want to face them I feel like a fucking failure.

Then tonight was the breaking point I went to make some calls and the mic on the headphones has gone (teaches me to buy cheap shit) I bought them from the chinease cheap shop so they won’t exchange them and that means that the little bit of money I could make has gone.

I sat on my apartment floor and cried – maybe it was months of frustration, I don’t know but all of a sudden I felt like the most loneliest, stupidest person on this whole planet – it always seems that when life is on a downhill curve everything just keeps kicking you down everytime you try and move up.

I’m not in general a crying girl – in drink maybe – but not in normal, I think deeply for sure we all know that, I hurt myself with words but actually breaking down is not something that I do often and the more the tears came the more I couldn’t stop them. it was like I was looking at myself for what I really was. For all the things that have happened in the last month I left my job, had a massive falling out with my sister, can’t pay my rent, can’t get a job, can’t even buy food. I fucking hate my life and myself right now.

I know this entry sounds aggressive but my aggression is with myself. I’ve always knew I am a nothing, I’ve always knew that I would fail but the truth is I always knew I would fail at relationships, at holding things together, at holding my moods together but to actually fail as spectacularly as I am right now is surpassing my own grim expectations. I’ve never given myself leeway to just let myself be because I know all my shortcomings, I’m my hardest critic – I get there before anyone else because its easier that way, if I know in my mind what I am then when others tell me it doesn’t hurt so much.

The stark reality is that I mess up everything I touch and right now I just keep getting kicked in the teeth.

Writing for the sake of writing!

18 10 2008

Things are still not looking bright – it doesn’t seem to matter how many streets of bars and restaurants I walk or how many people I speak too work is not forthcoming.  I knew it would be difficult this time of year, I remember knowing people who were in the same situation last year who ended up on a plane out of here back to their homelands and I remember saying ‘it can’t be that hard there is jobs if you really want one’  


But I just got hungry and ate those words.


In fact I have been forced to eat a lot of words I have said over the last year.


It’s about being in the right place at the right time out here and due to the fact that I have been constantly depressed I guess I have been spending a lot of times in the wrong places at the wrong time.


I also have a feeling about something else that is going to make this situation I am in even worse.  But now is not the time to go into that.   Right at this moment I can barely admit it to myself let alone put it out here for you all to read.  


I haven’t seen the hippy man either – nor have I spoke to him since the last time when I told him I needed to wallow in my own self pity for a few days, I have no idea what he is thinking right now – I feel bad for the confusion I have brought to him.  I feel bad for a lot of things.

Pointless Games and Addictive Chat –

16 10 2008

The hippy man asked me to go over and lock lips with him over a bottle of pink champagne, but I declined.   Very unusual for me to turn down an offer of drinking something that has bubbles in but I was feeling pretty low and wanted nobodies company but my own.


I spent the night surfing the night … but avoiding my blog … and ended up at frustrating myself by playing a card game called Egyptian Pyramids which is incredibly pointless but a little bit addictive.


While I was playing I had one eye on the chat box that flows down the right hand side of the screen and I ended up getting a little bit enthralled by the drama that seemed to be going on in this little game chat room.


It seems that nowadays people don’t talk to their ‘boyfriends’ until they come into live chat.  One woman was SHOUTING into the room that her boyfriends ex had her way, they are separating.  She was also asking the rest of the room to go over and look at her profile, seems the ex was writing (death non the less) threats on her guestbook.   Scary stuff being cyber-stalked.   It left me wondering if she had ever even met her ‘boyfriend’ except for in the confines of a live chat box.


Next up came a young boy abusing the rest of the chatters for swearing (found it quite amusing myself … I mean all he was doing was sharing the advice his Mum probably gives him everyday) but it seemed that his whole family was in there and by family I mean new-age family as in Mum, Dad, Step-Mum, sister, half brother all very dignified and a little bit strange. Why would you invite your husband’s ex-wife to play Egyptian Pyramids? I can just imagine the conversations when swapping children from one house to the next:


SM: ‘Hi, the kids have been great, we spent the weekend playing Egyptian Pyramids’


M: Egyptian Pyraminds? Sounds Great.  Err What the hell is it?


SM: It’s this completely pointless and silly little game on – FANBLOODYTASTIC!


M: Oh fabulous sounds amazing.  I must join, see you there!


Come on, you know you can picture it.  

Hell Behind the Frontdoor

15 10 2008

Tonight’s events have made me realise I have little to complain about when it comes to the grand scheme of things. Lately, every entry I hate wrote seems to be me whining on about how bad things are for me well tonight made me sit back and think that my selfishness has become all consuming.

I was ‘allowed’ to read something tonight that my friend had wrote, something from the depths of her being that she put down on paper in the hope that it would calm some of the eternal storm she carries inside.

She was abused. Sexually abused. By her Dad.

The same man that is supposed to protect her from the hells the world had to offer in her youth actually made her walk into hell.

I could have said I understand, after all I too know what it’s like to be the victim of a sex attack, but it would be a lit, I don’t understand. A monster who spiked the drink of a strange woman – who had in fact had too much to drink anyway – is in no way to be compared (in my mind) to a father putting his daughter through years of hell.

In a world where evil can lurk in every shadow in every dimly light street we expect the comfort of our own houses, the warmth of our family to help shut that same evil out. But what if that evil is contained behind the façade of a cosy welcoming house.

True horror, it seems, lies behind red front doors and white picket fences.

Dead-End Search.

14 10 2008

Three strips of bars later, the local newspapers and a few random phone calls I am still jobless.

I met up with my friend along the way, who I have to admit put all her efforts into helping me. Have to admit it was more than appreciated, even the job search was redundant having someone trek around the bars/restaurants with you sure makes it easier. She even went and bought some drink and invited me round for a girl’s night at hers tonight, which I am looking forward too just to take my mind off things if nothing else.

Another friend of mine, one who shared the up’s and down’s with me when I first ventured out here has also been cheering me up with a memory fest on Facebook. Even when your depressed looking back on some of the funnier times always manages to bring a smile to your face. I miss her. A lot. More than a lot on fact.

In other news I have been suffering with terrible stomach cramps. Now is not the time to get ill. No siree, though it would figure that it would happen now – I’m way past thinking luck has something good in store for me.

One Way Ticket Into Hopelessness!

14 10 2008

I left my house last night and sat in the bar; I know that’s not such a clever thing to do for someone who is completely broke but it never worked out too bad. One of my neighbours stood me a couple of drinks and then two very good friends of mine done the same. After being deprived of alcohol for some time it went to my head. While it felt good to be out of the prison that my apartment is coming being drunk also reminded me that I am on a slippery slope into nothingness at the moment.

I did what any self-respecting depressed girl would do; I drunk dialled Nicholas (no answer – shoot … I deleted his number this morning so no more of that!) then I came online and drunk commented on a few blogs, before giving up and headed over to facebook to complete my drunk-make-a-fool-out-of-myself marathon.

Good going I think.

As of this morning I have 15 euros to my name, take out of the cigarettes (I don’t care if they are counted as ‘luxury items’ I’m down ok, nicotine withdrawal is not something I can withstand right now) I am about to go and buy, the washing up liquid that is needed in my house and the bottle of drink (soft drink guys – honest!) then that’s me pretty much done.

I’d like to say I can not get to a much lower point in my life than this; but that’s just tempting fate as I know in my heart I really can and over the next days/weeks I am going to visit it.

Right now I am going out to tread pavements in search of work but I am pretty pessimistic about the whole thing. I’m thinking I just bought a one-way ticket into hopelessness.

I guess this is why being in a strange country away from family, friends and everything you hold familiar can sometimes suck more than anything.