Forgotten Nights

4 04 2013

Its been such a long time since I have sat down and tried to write. I am not even sure if I still have the ability to make my words mean anything to anyone but me. I feel like the forgotten girl has forgotten herself, I don’t know who I am anymore.

I am back settled in the UK, three years almost, I have stayed put, I have not run. Its been difficult, I forgot how much the everyday problems that just come with trying to get by over here take up your time. Sometimes I feel like this is half a life but then I have to remind myself that this is real life – this is how life is when you don’t take to the pavement every-time things get rough.

I have a little shoebox flat, just me and the dog. I’ve curbed my promiscuity but I still cannot maintain a relationship even if its all I crave now. I want the normality, I want a family, I want to belong. I’ll be 32 in a couple of months, I danced and drank and destroyed my previous years and I find myself standing before the mirror now and spying the cracks in my face caused by the hedonism, constant cigarette smoking and my weather beaten years, I spy the odd grey hair trying to show itself under the red dye. I see a woman who has experienced so much, seen such vast things but ultimately has come full circle and still stands alone.

I have lost so much, gained so much more. I have evolved into a person who has been jaded, lost, found, the destroyed and the destroyer, a woman who has stood ten feet tall but has also felt the gravel scratch her cheek.

I rarely touch alcohol, prefer the simple life, walking the dog, reading a lot, my words always so harsh in a world full of gentle fake folk have been (for the most part) quietened. I can listen now, I can breathe. I still have that demon temper, those black eyes but a huge part of me is subdued, I am learning to pick and chose my battles.

There does not seem to be any purpose to this post. But I am here. Always I am here.