Day 77.

As if being nearly 24 wasn't bad enough, I had to attempt at giving myself a hangover which isn't really a hangover because I am not feeling rough, just a sad state of affairs still in bed at 11am, writing about hangovers.

*

I went to sleep at 2am. Despite my eyes being really heavy and the comfort of my pillow overwhelming, I had to watch the catch up of The X Factor. Of course I did. That seems perfectly reasonable at 1am whilst eating cheese on toast, feeling ever so slightly tipsy and trying to down hot chocolate which is, not only too hot, but far too chocolatey. I give up. Apparently I have no rational thought at that time of day, with alcohol in my belly. The fact that I had decided on the worst food and drink to have at that time, remembering I am lactose intolerant. 

Last night was a roaring success however, ignoring my cider induced early morning meltdown. The pub is beautiful; quaint, quirky and very rustic. I was placed in the inglenook fireplace. Fairy lights twinkling around my head, a beaded curtain and white drape hiding me from the outside world, the candles flickering. Cards sat on the table. Protective. No one should touch them. Please don't touch them. Reading after reading. Skeptic after believer. They were a mixed bag but ultimately all very impressed, or so I overheard. This had been my first time delivering angel card readings on mass. I had done plenty on myself but I had never hit out on a larger audience before. I was calm, peaceful, confident in my answers, following my instinct. I even had to cuddle one woman after it because of what she had been dealt. Within angel cards there are no doom or gloom signs. It is guidance, love, advice. I felt so pushed, physically and mentally, to tell her to pay attention that I ended up with such a back ache from being so animated. I hugged her and explained it was important she listened to herself. Listened to the advice around her. Trusted her own instinct. My initial nerves of conducting something like this soon melted away as person after person entered my healing fireplace. I was more worried of people calling me a fraud as so many do when someone even utters the word 'spiritual' or 'angels'. It is something that comes far too often from idiots who have seen the real frauds being busted and projecting that on to the rest of us. If it provides someone with a little comfort, back off and let them have it. 

After chatting with my lovely cousin, seeing her future, encouraging her to keep going, stay strong, remain positive, I was in a daze. I was on cloud 9 at the end of the night. I was euphoric. I had been confident enough to follow my instinct. I had been brave enough to show the world my passion and attempt to give them the guidance they were craving. Not only that but I had also raised £40 for Cancer Research UK in generous donations from people who saw me. It was amazing. I am and was so proud. Then what did I go and do? In my state of absolute happiness? I go and send the most stupid text I could have done which could have resulted in fucking every single thing up I have been working towards.

Foolishly I thought I would send a text. Say how amazingly well my night had gone, hoped they were okay and then signed it off with 'love you lots'. What a twat. Okay, for you at home it probably seems like an extreme over reaction and, maybe you're right however, I had been doing so well. I usually ended the messages with 'lots of love'. Affectionate, just more than friendly, but not psycho 'lets get married, have babies, live in a field, with a goat and dance around the lake with the fish and tie dye our tshirts forever because we are in love and the world should know how much we are in love.' I hadn't realised I had sent that until I checked my phone to see the time and then scrolled through my messages. The sheer panic. My heart skipped and I can honestly say I have never text that quickly before in my life. 'Oh God, I am so sorry. You know what I meant. It wasn't meant to say that. I just. Oh God I don't know. I just had such an amazing night. I was just excited and yeah. Oh God. I'm sorry.' I was definitely over panicking. Surprise. The reply I got was pretty much 'calm down bird. It's not a big deal. You're a doughnut. Relax.' I could either take that sort of response 2 ways. I could do the psychotic apparent female thing and try and interpret his response or I could take it literally. I could think that maybe he's just saying it. Just saying that to make me feel better but what I will notice is he will now fade me out of his life. He will slowly back away wearing his 'I'm with pyscho 'love you lots' lady' t-shirt. Oh the shame. Luckily, I don''t think like that. I have taken what he said as literal and trust that despite seeming like a keeno, he knows what I meant.

Should I worry still though? As I continued grovelling for a while after despite his pleas that he needed to go to sleep, I began to wonder if I had really done a terrible thing. Love is universal. Love is all something we want, have and give out. There's nothing bad about someone saying they love you, is there? There are different levels of love, as I learned in school. You have 'luv' or 'love'. Luv is how you would describe your relationship, as a 13 year old, when you are holding hands outside of class, trying to impress your friends with your maturity and 'serious' relationship. Love is something we find as we begin to realise that being with this person is the one thing that makes us feel complete. I, of course, had to use the latter. Resulting in my meltdown at 1am, eating cheese on toast, drinking hot chocolate that was too chocolatey and watching The X Factor catch up.

I'm not sure about this whole love thing. I'm not sure about what it is to be a keeno. I'm not sure why I say/write the things I do. All I do know is that last night I was really happy and I was filled with love. So, I shared it and it scared me that I had shared it with the last person I wanted to scare off. 

However, we all do silly things don't we? To take the unease resting in my stomach away I was given a performance of my dad's pantomime songs that I am forcing him to perform. They were entertaining. I never knew Luther Vandross and Cliff Richard used the lyrics: " 'Oh fuck it. Fuck. Bollocking. Cunt. Fuck." in any of their songs.

 Hannah xox

Day 76.1.

Dictionary- Loser:

 

"noun

1.a person, team, nation, etc., that loses: The visiting team was the loser in the series.

2. Informal.

a. a person who has been convicted of a misdemeanor or, especially, a felony: a two-time loser.

b. a person who has failed at a particular activity: a loser at marriage.

c. someone or something that is marked by consistently or thoroughly bad quality, performance, etc.: Don't bother to see that film, it's a real loser.

3. Slang. 

a misfit, especially someone who has never or seldom been successful at a job, personal relationship, etc."

*

I am, generally, one of life's losers. I have never been cool. I have never been popular. That has been a standard throughout my entire life and, I doubt, is ever set to change. I have become accustomed to not have, or need, many different friends around me in order to feel validated in some way. I am not much of a social butterfly. I am too shy for all of that. I am so shy I get nervous having to do day to day tasks in front of people I don't know. I am pathetically shy and I must learn to be braver. I never wanted to be overly popular, apart from when I was at secondary school.

I was 16. I had friends. Sort of. I was moving from one group to another. The previous had been truly awful to me and I knew I had no choice but to cut my losses and move on. Moving on was the best option and I later discovered two of the best friends a girl could ever have at that tender age in life. However, before I became engrossed in those two beauties I befriended others to 'fit in'. I wanted to be one of the 'cool' kids. This, of course, was never set to happen. I had black, frizzy hair and was so shy I couldn't even look people in the eye. It wasn't a good start. I had attempted the 'scene/emo/grunge' look briefly and, in due course, would return to it but now I needed to reinvent myself. Start from scratch. I went the opposite direction pretty much. I became, or at least, attempted to be like all the popular girls in school. I straightened my hair, wore more make up, rolled my skirt shorter once I'd left the house, I chatted through lessons- rather than remaining the nerd that I was before and listening intently to the teacher. I 'rebelled'. I thought to myself 'they will like me if I do this. I will be accepted in to the tribe. I might even get a boy to like me.' The boys at our school were lovely, well most, but in my opinion none really took my breath away at the time so I clearly wasn't too fussed, I just wanted to feel like I belonged. Anyway...

After a few weeks I tried my hardest to chat with one group of girls. They had been established friends since year 7 so my attempts at joining in, in year 11, were going to need some serious commitment. I befriended one girl. She irritated me quite a bit. Posh, snobby, very rich and mummy and daddy doted on her. She had a brother who once chased me around their garden and then threw a brick at me. I felt, at the time, that this was okay. He would accept me one day as the 'cool best friend' of this girl. This definitely didn't happen. I rarely went round again. Unless it was late and he was asleep in bed. By becoming her friend I was catapulted in to a world of drinking (of which I had dabbled a fair bit already) and smoking (of which I had always point blank refused on doing). At 16, I found myself in bars in Hastings socialising with her 20 something friends who bought us drinks on a Thursday night as we ventured to the Crypt. Oh what a place that was. My memories of that dark, dirty, seedy club will never be scratched from my memory. Seeing friend's dads leering over the young women and dancing was enough to give me nightmares and in turn, stop going. It was a magical time. I had my fake id and I felt grown up. I felt like I belonged in these situations. I was more confident, although that could have just been the vodka, and I began to love going out with her. It became a regular thing. 

We were sat at a bar when I was thrown in to my first 'this will make you cool' scenario. As she delicately took the packet of Marlboro Lights out of her bag I began to panic. First the fags, then the lighter. She looked up at me. 'Want one?'  My brain bypassed any thought process it should of had and I immediately said yes. She lit one, passed it to me, then lit her own. I sat at the bar trying to remember what it looked like when people did it in films or on tv. I had to hold it the right way to look cool. The taste was vile. Why would anyone want to breathe this shit in? Seriously, I am sucking on what I imagine the Devils dick to taste like. It was horrible. Needless to say I continued smoking after that. The Devils dick obviously didn't taste too bad after a few more shots. I was hooked after about a week. It was truly the worst and best decision I ever made. Nothing beats a pint of Strongbow and a cigarette on a summer's day in a beer garden. Just saying. (Not that I'd encourage any of you to start smoking but for those of us 'in the know', you understand what I am talking about.)

With that, I became an honorary 'cool' kid. Well, at least with her and her 'cool' friends. I was 'cool'. I smoked. I drank and I didn't give a fuck. Yet, in actual fact, I did give a fuck. I felt awful. I realised I had had to sacrifice something I never wanted to do in order to be 'one of them'. I had gone against everything I ever believed in order to feel accepted. Now, I'm afraid, hindsight is one of life's biggest bastards because it always pops up at the end and goes 'shouldn't have done that should you?' Sounding like a patronizing arsehole who knows everything. It does know everything but it always keeps it a secret until you do the wrong thing. Wonderful. As time has gone by I have realised I needn't sacrifice anything to feel accepted. I shouldn't worry what others think of me and whether I am 'cool' or popular enough. I don't need to be either of those. I just need to be me. 

We don't realise, when we are young, how important it is to promote self loving and appreciation. We think that having the right clothes, the hair, the make up, the friends to be most important. We miss part of life's fundamental lessons that 'whoever you are at school is damn sure to change once you leave' and it has. I see the girl I once went out with and she has transformed completely. The people who used to be popular are now no better than me. They are getting on with their lives happily. They are not fighting to be accepted and maintain their reign as 'cool' kids. 

We are all cool, for want of a better word. We are all marvelous in our own little ways. Some of us for our passions, some of us for our talents, others because we have amazing hair. The definition of 'cool' isn't what it once was. Being cool isn't such a big deal as you grow up. Rather, being you is far more interesting. Imagine how different school would have been without the struggles of trying to fit in all the time. Without all the bullshit that goes with being a teenager. 

Where once being cool used to control me, being passionate, loving, loyal and trustworthy has taken over. I stick to my morals, I am fierce with my dreams and I try to be the best friend and/or girlfriend/missus/woman/bird/wench/partner I can. I focus on my strengths, not my weaknesses. We all should.

Hannah xox

  

Day 76.

I hid it from you to keep it safe. It was safe with me. It wouldn't be safe with you. You'd break it. You did break it. You broke me. You made me lose it. You took it away. You took it and weren't even there. You stole it from me. You stole my life. Or what felt like it. I am better now. I am stronger but I still miss it. I miss it every day. I lost it. It was safe with me.

*

Error. I made one. Slightly. I forgot they can read this. I thought I would get away with it. Not so.

Okay, so granted I haven't written anything terrible. I haven't insulted anyone (intentionally), I haven't done anything that bad. I do, however, realise that, I have let my words slip through my fingers and in to blog posts that maybe I should have kept in my head. Or should I? (I am having an inner conflict with myself about this as you'll come to realise.) I vowed, when I began this blog that I would be honest about how I was feeling. I would just write the truth. Put down exactly what was in my head but edit it slightly because it would just be a mish mash of words, emotions and pug images. So I have. I just neglected to realise that a certain someone was reading it. I was a little too honest, maybe, in a previous post regarding some of the stupid thoughts that come in to my mind. I had to think, after being asked, whether these feelings were real and I believed them, or if they were simply shit spilling out from a tired, over active mind. I settled on the latter, as it was the truth. We all have self doubt sometimes but I realise how I was slipping back in to my over worrying ways.

I don't think that will ever change. I think I will always be a worrier. I was creating situations in my head because I couldn't believe how well things were going for me. I was trying to convince myself that I was wrong, it was all a lie, with no actual proof. Nothing had even happened to warrant my thinking that. I was being an absolute worrying, panicky, ridiculous turdball. Of course, even though these thoughts tried to creep in, I knew they weren't real. They were just that stupid part of every persons head that says 'you aren't good enough, stop trying.' Before, I wouldn't have realised that. I would have believed it. I would have convinced myself it were true and ended up spiraling down until I had lost all sense of reality and ballsed everything up. Not this time, my friends, I am not going down without a damn good fight which will involve a heel to the eyes and a swift kick in the nads. I am not going back to that place.

So, other than being a moron the last couple of days have been pleasant. Nothing amazingly wonderful has happened but they have been delightful all the same. My intention on seeing my sister and nephew today has been blighted by the fact there is no point. As she says 'you will be driving for longer than you will be actually seeing us.' This is true. I have no money either which is apparently handy when trying to drive somewhere in Essex. 

My book arrived. 'How to be a woman' by Caitlin Moran. You are all aware, I am sure, that Caitlin is an inspiration to me. As we do in this day and age, we take photos of everything. Our food, ourselves, our injuries, our sock drawer. Whatever it is, we no doubt, will take a photo of it to show the world. I took a photo of my new book. My excitement was at a real high. I knew there would be people who appreciated the fact I had got this book, they would be happy too, they would applaud it in the same way I have jumped around anxiously for the last few days waiting for it. I did not, however, expect to see the menfolk jump in to comment. Of course, perhaps from the title of the book, I would get the comments of 'about time you learned how to be a woman Hannah.' (I was bullied for quite some time, these comments are second nature to me now.) One comment I did receive was this:

"This looks like a right load of wank" (He wasn't wrong, in chapter 1 I was greeted by Caitlin's first time masturbating.) So, from that comment I have concluded that this person has decided they don't like this book because they aren't impressed with the front cover. Books usually do look wank but quite frankly, we aren't generally meant to be just looking at the book, we are meant to be reading it. That's where the good stuff is. That's where all the interest lies. I found it amusing. He had totally written off this book because it 'looks wank'. Fascinating really. Perhaps he knows of Caitlin and is aware of what she writes. Perhaps he knows nothing about it and is commenting before understanding. I will go for the latter. I assume it is the latter. I am thoroughly enjoying it all the same. I will continue to enjoy it as well. 

It is short and sweet for now. I want to go and read about masturbating, pubic hair and lap dancing.

Hannah xox

Day 74.

She was scared. Would he realise that, although in many ways they're perfect together, they might be so far removed it wouldn't work? She worried about this a lot. In fact, she worried about a lot of things. Probably too many things actually. 

*

Today has been a mix of anxiety, stress, laughs, positivity, excitement and headaches. Today I have pretty much experienced emotions at each end of the spectrum with severe intensity. Today I became a student. A proper one. A full time one. An official one. I am now entitled to a discount on things I will never use. This is exciting. 

I left my house at around 7:30, just in case. I didn't want to be late and then panic where I was going. My train left at 8:05. I had parked my car up in Polegate (trying to save on the fare) and I wandered to the station. As I tried to pay for my ticket by card, which didn't happen because the machine broke, I began my panicking from thereon. I got my ticket, eventually and boarded the train to Lewes. This was good. I know trains, I've used trains for years, I am safe here. The journey felt as though it had flown by when the conductor announced we had arrived. I gathered my things together and got off the train. My thoughts at that point were 'follow the people who look like students'. This plan, although brilliant at first turned out to be the worst. Don't ever follow people you 'assume' are students because, from my research today, you are going to be wrong. I followed them. Casually of course. I wasn't on some stalker mission and ended up going the complete opposite direction of where I needed to go. After some lengthy following I realised they were, in fact, not students. I gave in and asked some wary man which way it was. He seemed very nervous as I bounded over, all smiles, and asked politely where I should be going. He relaxed when he realised my scruffy appearance and questioning wasn't an attempt at getting money to feed my Special Brew habit. He obliged and sent me back the opposite direction. From there, I was fine. 

I arrived at the building. Tall, ominous and my new home for the next 2 years at least. I found my room after 4 flights of stairs. Not fun. And I stood outside the room for 20 minutes. As more people arrived we were let in and we all sat down. All nervous and feeling a little uncomfortable. Silence. Awkward giggles as the tutor tried to ease us in. Half an hour later and we were all chatting away like we'd been friends forever. Groups began to form as they do when in a large group of girls but it was nice. There were no massive divides. No bitchiness. We all got on really well. 

Enrollment itself was nerve wracking enough. I was expecting to be refused. Told I wasn't on the course. Sent away crying. This, of course, didn't happen. It was a breeze. They didn't ask for half the things they 'require for the enrollment process' so that helped. Well, purely because I didn't actually have half of the things they needed. Then came the worst part of my entire day. The photo! Why do they insist on taking your photo when a) you least expect it and b) you are looking like a tonne of shit? That's right. A tonne of shit. I had adopted my new style of not giving a fuck and dressing as though I am a hybrid of granny couture meets student bum. It's truly beautiful. So as the lady is chatting away to me she informs me she's already taken my photo. Great. Mouth part open where I am about to speak, hair everywhere and the most confused look on my face. That'll do. 

We got given a little more of an insight in to the course, met some more of the lecturers and took a tour of all the facilities we would be using. I, at this point, was so keen to start I could have thrown someone on to a massage table and drowned them in Essential Oils. After months of trying to imagine what this would be like, I finally saw how my next 2 years were going to pan out and I couldn't wait. After all my nerves this morning I was ready to begin. The start of my new adventure had begun. I had plucked up the confidence to speak to new people. I actually instigated conversation which is amazing for me. I laughed, I took part and I listened. I tried to absorb as much of the energy and atmosphere as I could just so I could know, on reflection, that this was really something I could do. The main draw to this particular course, Complementary Healthcare, was the level of science behind it. It is intense. It is going to be tough at times but overall it is going to be so interesting. I will learn how the human body works, pressure points, stress relief, nutrition, business all alongside the main principles of the course. I loved biology at school, so this would all be right up my street. Not to mention it also teaches about chakras, positive energy fields and all that hippie shit that I love so much.  I am in heaven.

We had our final talks by the senior members of staff at the college and we were then treated to sandwiches and orange juice. Very grown up. I must remind you that at 9:30 this morning I was entering a competition to win a £20 gift voucher. Well, that's a lie. I was entering a competition to win the runner's up prize of wine. My dedication to wine has no time limit.

So, my day has been wonderful. Stressful yet wonderful. 

I thought, when my amazingly new positive attitude came about, that it wouldn't last. I didn't realise being this happy and content was possible yet, here I am. Still smiling. Still smiling because I have everything I need right now. My future is taking shape. I can see myself being this happy forever now. I don't actually think I can go back to those dark days again. When we make changes, changes occur. Sounds stupid but it does make sense. I am living my life the way I want it and I've never been happier.

Hannah xox

Day 73.1

Her feelings were strong but she was afraid. She was afraid of admitting them, even to herself. She had lost the love she once felt for him but she didn't want it to materialise. They had been together so long. The life they had built together. It all meant nothing now. His lies had destroyed that but she kept her brave face on. Her game face.The only face she could produce when performing the feelings that once came so naturally to her. He must realise. He must know. How could she go on pretending when her heart had been ignited by another man?

Once upon a time everything had been wonderful. They had made plans for the future, spoke about marriage, even having children. They had been together since they were 16. Sweethearts from school. Inseparable. He was her first. They were drunk. 17 years old. Sore. He was the man that turned her in to a woman. They made memories. Photos. Videos. Family had entwined with one another. It was all destined to be perfect until she found it. He had become distant. Unfeeling. He hadn't touched her for months. Something wasn't right. She found the message. The message to her. That scheming bitch who had pretended to be her friend for so long. The bitch that had caused a massive gap between them both. Maybe it was partly his fault. Maybe he felt he needed to try something new. Why did he say he loved her? Months went by before she admitted to knowing what he was up to. He grovelled. Made excuses. Promised it would never happen again. She forgave him. She wasn't ready to lose the only person who had ever made her feel love. Yet, it was gone. Any love she had for him had turned to bitterness. She thought this was how it was meant to be. So she stayed.


Could she do it? Could she keep up the facade of being happy for the sake of memories? It wasn't fair. She had been pushed to her limits. She had faced situations she had never wanted to. She had put up with his false words and uninterested attitude for too long. It was the cliche of loving him but not being in love with him. She missed how it was in the beginning. The fun times. The happy times. The times where they just worked. Everything felt in place at the start but it crumbled away with time once the first lie was told.

He made her feel alive. He understood her. The passion they felt towards one another was electric. The way her heart beat as he held her close to his body. The way he grabbed her as they kissed. The chemistry was too much. She became addicted to his touch. His strong hands holding her waist as he pushed her against the wall. The way he stroked her neck. Kissed her. She wanted him. She needed him. Needed him close. Close enough to take her breath away. Close enough to forget the world around them. She hadn't felt this before. It was naughty. It was wrong. Or was it? Was it wrong for her to feel wanted, desired, loved? He was everything she needed. Everything he wasn't.

She looked in the mirror. Just staring. Looking at her long, blond hair. The way it fell below her shoulders. The freckles dancing across her cheeks. The pale skin she had loathed for so many years. Her blue eyes filled with tears. Could she do it? Could she say the words to him that she had dreaded for so long? Her phone rang, the twinkling notes danced across the tense air. She looked at it. Managing to drag her attention away from the wreck she was staring at in the mirror. It was him. She held the phone to her ear, heart pounding, hands trembling and with almost a whisper, answered.

His voice. The voice that used to utter sweet nothings sounded bitter, cold, harsh. He wasn't the same. He knew. He knew what she had done and it was too late to even attempt to lie. His voice wavered as he asked her why. Why could she do this to him? The silence became unbearable. The pause felt like it would never stop. Her voice cracked as she struggled to find the right words to console the man she thought she loved. "Revenge. Bittersweet revenge."

The phone line went dead.

Day 73.

"Maybe he doesn't want me anymore. I don't understand why he would anyway. Look at him, he's perfect. He's more than I could ever deserve yet he says he's chosen me. I guess this will be my greatest heartbreak. He will find her. Another perfect person to match him. She will capture his heart and he will say goodbye to me. Goodbye to the chubby, unwanted waste that is me. Maybe it was all an elaborate joke. Just a pity thing. Something for him and his friends to laugh about in time. Maybe she was being shown how amazing everything could be, only for it to be snatched away even quicker. Ugh, I need a fag." Her inner monologue deafened her that day.

*

The hot chocolate burnt my tongue as I swallowed it down quickly, trying to fill the emptiness in my stomach. It was good though, I felt better now. Darth Vader's theme began playing from my phone. Must be mum. Silly woman. She still doesn't know how to use her phone properly. Today I am nervous. Today I wasn't expecting to arrive so quickly. Today I was scared that everything I've been looking forward to is about to go down the shitter.

Tomorrow I start Uni, well, I enroll. I sign all the bits of paper I need to, meet people on my course, my course leaders and am welcomed back in to Sussex Downs life, of which I haven't been part of for years. It's all so exciting. In some ways I've missed being in education, as an adult anyway. I've missed the more laid back approach, the equality, the understanding. As much as the work is more advanced, we all know, course tutors included, that if we don't work, it's our own fault. Being an adult in education results in the main pressure of performance on you. Even if you're tutor is crap you should be the one proactive enough to go and do something about it. I like this kind of independence. I can see myself being the one always found in the library in between lectures, doing my work so I don't have to do it when I get home. I can see myself being the one getting really stuck in, trying to cram as much knowledge in to my brain as physically possible. I miss learning, I miss that thirst I had for information. Soon I will be qualified and that is what is motivating me on. I am about to take my first steps in securing my future.

Time seems to have sped up. I'm counting down the days but I know there's no need, everything is rushing by so quickly, it will be here before I know it. I am so excited. I seem to be excited about everything lately.

On Saturday evening, once I have returned from Essex after seeing my sister and nephew, I have been invited to read my Angel Cards at the pub. I will be taking money from people and telling them their futures or whatever it is they want to know. I'm like a Mystic Meg type only, her hair was less wild and she didn't make predictions she just said someone would win the lottery. No? Really? I was taught how to read the cards but a friends mum about 7 years ago. She gave me the books on Angels and Spirituality, she gave me the tools to hone in on this practice. It may not be for everyone but it's certainly brought comfort to my life. It allows me to find clarity in life's darkest moments and who's to say that's a bad thing! Today, I must practice. I must cleanse the cards and try to do long distance readings. I must try and connect with my inner self. Meditate. Fall deeper in to my mind than I have been doing recently. I may take myself off to the woods and just sit in nature's splendor. Today will be one of thoughtfulness.

Hannah xox

Day 72.1.

She was in limbo. Her eyes blank, he face lifeless. She had become a memory of who she once was. Her breath was laboured. Her features, sullen. She was a shadow of a girl. 

*

Why can no one define love? Why is there not some really accurate, perfectly written prose that really sums up what love is, that's a universal understanding for this wretched emotion we seem to obsess on feeling.

Love is different for everyone. Love is one of the hardest things to describe and even after minutes of struggling to find the words to explain, we can all nod in agreement; knowing what they are trying to say but being unable to. I wish there was some sort of alarm within our bodies that alerted us when we were actually in love. Just some kind of air horn goes off. As you're walking down the road, a thundering voice cries 'Congratulations, you've just fallen in love!' like the bloke off of the lottery then an air horn sounds. Ideal. Perhaps. Or even better we get a letter. You can't beat a good letter. Emails are great but getting a signed card from Cupid letting us know that we are now, in fact, head over heels in love, would be great. Something for the pin board at least. I know my feelings fairly well but love is stupid. Stupidly, amazingly wonderfully stupid. Love is the most intoxicating, soul destroying, heart wrenching emotion ever but it's what we are all searching for. We are all craving it. Even those who are happy being single, deep down we all just want that person to go home to. That person to hold us when we are sad, the one that will make us laugh anytime, a person to reveal your most inner thoughts to. Just all consuming, life changing love.

It's okay for people in films. That love is easy. That love happens over the course of an hour and a bit. Simple. Words are said and the person has fallen in love. It's such an easy way of doing it. None of this panicking whether it's too soon, what will happen in the future, whether it is actually love or not. I mean, how quickly does it take? Can it happen in a matter of weeks or does it take years? When do you know to tell someone? It's a disaster. It's complicated and traumatic. 

I love falling for someone. I love the rush of emotions that you feel whenever you see or speak to them. I love the butterflies in the stomach when you see them walking towards you, the way your heart skips a little when they hold you. I love the way it detaches you from any sense of normality and you have to try not to dance along the street like you're in some musical. (I would love to do that though. Just day to day. It being a perfectly normal thing to do. "I said hello, Dolly, well hello Dolly. It's so nice to have you back where you belong.") Falling for someone scares me. As much as I love it, it frightens me. I worry that maybe it's too quick. My head gets involved and tries to dissuade any emotions I am feeling in my heart. It takes me a step back and goes "Hannah, now, you do realise what you're doing don't you? Behave yourself." It's as if I have to sign some kind of consent form before it allows me to go the whole way. I tend to ignore it. I've never been one for paperwork. I just love love. 

My opinions on love have changed over the years. I have learned what is definitely not love and I have been taught what is. My eyes have been opened to how a relationship should actually be. I have learned that I must stick to my guns and not let anyone change what I will 'put up with'. I must not have my boundaries pushed by things I would never usually tolerate. A couple of months ago I said I wasn't looking for a relationship, I said I would see what happens. I never see time as an issue. If something is meant to happen and quickly, then it will. Some times we just have to let life do it's thing and follow it along like an obedient puppy. We have to be gracious in remembering that we have feelings and they need to be listened to. They need to be really felt. There is nothing better than being in the moment and just feeling pure, unadulterated, heart warming love.

Perhaps 'love' will come to me sooner than I think. Maybe it will take some time. Either way I am excited. I am hopeful that it will happen again. I am going to enjoy falling for someone again. I am going to relish in it. Embrace it with my whole being. I am not going to be afraid of giving my heart to someone again. Love may come with it's evils but ultimately it's what makes us feel truly alive. It is there for all of us, we just need to be ready to take it. 

Hannah xox