He fell in love with, with a…- A strange girl.

I have decided to blog, only a paragraph for now. Today i have indugled in having my front door open to cool me in the breeze that sulks in. I have subjected my hears and soul, and my neighbours to Hozier, Slipknot, Korn Sabbath, Rye and some Celin Dion. Well variety is the death of life ….

Through all of the songs i noticed the beat in my heart and the thoughts that filtered through….I am a strange girl. Oh i do not complain of this conclusion. But i do wonder what man can fall in love with a strange girl?  I wonder if his hair is long, or his fangs sharp. I wonder if his hand trembles when he concentrates. I wonder for what his accent will be and when he speaks will the words be true. I wonder if his body will be etched with scars or art or if he will keep his thoughts in his head his anger in his fists and his soul deeep inside and he will just be a blank canvas on the outside.

A man made love to my mind last night, and it was the best sex i never had. The man excited me and it was a long time since such nerves had electrified my skin. He lives a million miles away and his accent made me smile. His intelligence made me miss the man i lost some years ago when i wasn’t such a strange girl. I was conforming to him, loving him and his rules, because he made love to my mind better than to my body. His knowledge made me fantasized and it got me through some hard times. He would lay with me, my head on his lap and tell me things and stroke my hair. His accent would soothe my mood, my panic or anger. I could leak a tear for the man i left behind……Then i almost found him again.This man had accent and eyes the colour of burnt honey, and in the sunlight they were of a pond green. That mans eyes now, i fell in love with as the light revealed the depths and colours they held. He knew i was a strange girl…. his tone was calm and his stare was meek…. I never once saw a glimmer of anger. I fell in love with this mans brokeness, Its a shame to say it is what ended us. But his smell lingers in my mind and every time i see the sun setting in the sky i want to cry. I don’t want to look, i dont want to see the colour and how beautiful it can be. How it can transform and ignite my soul. I rather stay awake and watch the sunrise. And i dont even care to much, he stole my sunset. And a little part of me hates him for that.

So now i wonder if he will come back to me…. or if he will choose to  leave me this way….. I am a strange girl and i want my sunset back….. and the man that sat beside me running his fingers through my hair….. telling me of unknown wonders to me. But when i turned to look at him, all i saw was a broken man, and i knew it wouldnt be long before he couldnt stand….. A strange girl she is……


A unbalanced mind, a silent fighter only feeling peace in the humming of the night. A beautiful creature she can be, but then she can transform to a creature so free, uncaring and careless that she fly’s away free….. It will take a man who understands ecstacsy and agony and their need to exist in everything especially love. To her, love is pain. It s always been this way. Art is a release, blood letting is where she finds peace and her soul and love is inked into her skin. But to get close enough to read her tatoos and feel her scars you have to be armed. As vicious she can be because no one has ever came in peace without a excuse to eventually leave…….I will give you so many reasons to leave. But if you can stand before me and tell me one reason why you want to stay. I guess i will give in, and love you anyway.


Today frayed…

I woke today with a heavy mind, inspired to create a image, but lacking the courage to do so. I left the house today and went for coffee, it was a planned date. But the sour taste it left me with was not the quality or taste of the coffee.

People need to be whole. I have a habit of loving somewhat broken or lost souls. Through lessons and heartbreaks and betrayals, i actually spotted one before it turned into a destructive type of thing. Meeting people can be a beautiful thing, but the impression they leave upon you can be a stinging reminder of what you actually have to face up too. The impact we have on one another is some what lost in its importance. My medication needs changing, I need to readjust my life. The thing with medication is it strips you of something, sometimes feelings, or intensity. Other times it gifts you with things, mostly side effects. But all in all the medication for the mind is no medication at all…. its just a crutch, a painkiller to soothe the ache or the hurt, the thoughts the imploding thoughts that pierce our nerves. Medication always takes a bit of someone away, they change that person. I didn’t realise that until a ex pointed out how the medications change aspects of me. And its true. I have had my medication changed a few months back, and this time its not working, i have gone through the adjustment period, i have gone through being a zombie. I have even adjusted the dosage myself. Then comes the realisation, ‘its not working’. So then i have to face that i have lost three months of my life to adjusting to something that doesn’t work, and now i have to loose another three months in a medicated induced state adjusting to new pills. I have to identify which part of m has changed then…. and i have to see if these make me stable, which means i expose myself to all the things that trigger me, to ensure that these pills have my back and won’t kick my arse.


I know this guy and he is about to be re-introduced to medication, after trying to deal with it by himself for so long. I am proud of him for trying, but i also seen a look in his eyes that made me want to cry. It was the look of ‘i have no other choice’. I have feel that every evening when i take my medication. I have to look at my reflection and i see that look in my eyes. I have never yet seen it in someone else’s.

When is anyone ever whole? And do you need to be whole to be loved? as if you aren’t can you sustain as much, enjoy as much, or even appreciate as much?

I have never dated anyone who has to be on medication, normally i am the ‘one’ on the meds. I have never seen so much of a reflection in someones tone and eyes as i did today. It broke me in ways i didn’t know i could break. But i know that i saved two souls from a mistake. That made me happy and proud of me today. It will be alright in the end, and if its not? Its not the end.

I have decided that to celebrate i have booked another tattoo….. which makes me a little bit more happy. As its a symbol of actually things to come.

The ‘Word’

Its a early hours in the morning kind of blog again. This time its not because I am bipolar and cannot sleep. It is not because I have had my heart or mind ripped out of me again. This time its simply because….


I sit on a corner unit settee, with a marvel t-shirt on and pj bottoms. I sit with my hair scraped back and the lights out. From my macbook the only light illuminates. Unless i look out of the windows, which are straight ahead and i see the sky. Little pinheads of light looking down on me. The night owl that i am, i have become quite acustom to the stars and only really like the setting sun. My daughter is asleep, my lover too. And i lay tapping on my keys, passionatley as if i have something worth telling to anybody else. Or maybe its just good to tap it out for myself. I turned 29 today. I felt a depressing cloud hang over me all day, like the opaque grey cloud that blanketed the sky today. I didn’t cry, though i felt like i wanted too…. but watching the rain slide down the windows of today, i decided against descending into a full depression. I had a friend over, and visited my dad, i waited for my lover to return and only then did i feel at peace.

I haven’t had full blown anxiety in such a long while. But today it was the restless uncomfortable kind of anxiety. I traded uni work to curl on the settee around this man, this man who I am so scared to love. But even more scared that one day, soon. He may stop loving me. He may stop smiling at the thought of me, or even start smiling at the thought of someone else. Being damaged is a terrible thing. As you are gifted a complex you never wanted, and never thought of before. Now every little thing becomes a conscious thought of over analysising actions, tones, interpretations and words. Not realising before this complex you wear as normal as your own skin, what it was like to never even think of such little trial things. But now i do, I watch his phone, and even though its given to me freely i still feel somewhat uneasy. Thats the complex someone gave me, where their phone was a portal to be protected and guarded as it carried on it another life. I watch the way in which he turns when his phone beeps, but i find no flicker or insecurity. That soothes me, but it will be a scar i always carry with me, its now a damaged part of me. I could say i do not care and live free and for the moment. But to protect ones self from danger is instinct so now i act on instinct and not free affection and trust. Someone changed me in a way i will never be the same.


I have no doubt that one day i will not be young and beautiful and neither do i want to be forever. But one day when i no longer taste good t that persons palette what happens then.  As i have been a flavour a option for another man. I have been discarded like i was a ten year old newspaper. I have been praised and reeled in thinking ‘this is it’ I have then been left for somebody else. I have died in ways i didn’t know a soul could die, i have been hurt in ways i never knew a heart could sustain. I have believed when he apologised and i have believed when he said he’ll change. I have been violently awoken to a reality where no matter how good i was, or how well i obeyed, how faithful i stayed how loyal i remained. I was still condemned in another way. I still got betrayed. I was never good enough, i was never quick enough to catch him out. I was never understanding enough even after countless girls and a wasted three years, and now a therapy plan. The scars i have been left with are as much a part of my skin as the scars i often myself carve in.

Now, i have a guy who i forgot existed in this world. I thought hey were extinct. He bought me flowers – because he wanted too….. not because guilt had caused him too. He sends me text messages telling me how happy he is, or how much he adores me… not because he was messaging another girl at the same time on whatsapp and didn’t want me to get suspicious. He grabs me and kisses my forehead….. his arms wrap around me in a protective embrace. I don’t imagine his arms to hold me in any other way, than to protect me.  When i lay in bed with him he tickles my arm… or slings his arm around me in the middle of the night and like a bear pulls me in. Half asleep i smile… as even in his sleep he wants me near. He needs me for nothing, his ego is fine, his issues are almost non existence. He is a man with experience and with the most integrity i have ever known a man or human to have. He has emotions real ones, i can see and i can feel. He makes such a effort to make me feel safe, just encase i don’t. When all i need him to know, is that i have never felt safer. I wake every day counting down the hours till i can see him, not because i want to know where he is, or who he is messaging, or watch his every move. I just want him by me as we laugh, and we smile and he touches me and hugs me out of the blue. To watch a film and rest my head in his lap, my hair is where his fingers touch, i haven’t told him but its my favourite thing. I do not care for what girl he speaks to, or what girl he tattoos what girl he works with….. because they pose no threat. As he makes me feel he loves me, his word his promise isn’t tainted.


A man is only worth as much as his word

And this man has kept every word, every promise he has made to me. Every word or rhyme i write, however painful it was to write. He hasn’t got to read it to understand the meaning. He can read it in my eyes, with a doubtful glance or a inquisitive look. He understands that there is something more to me. He never asks and i shall never tell. But he pays such close attention he knows me beautifully well. He has seen a glint of my anger but it phases him none. He has seen me down, and it affects him none, He has seen me happy and high, and it phases him none. As long as I’m safe he will take me anyway. But i often wonder about the ‘one day’ when maybe i am a bit too much, when maybe love is not enough, when maybe i won’t do anymore, when maybe he sees all my good points as flaws… as these are the things that have happened to me before. Maybe i think too much, maybe i should just close my mac and creep over to bed and wrap his arms around me. Then I’m safe…. then everything is ok. Maybe i should run over and wake him with lots of kisses and tell him about this idea for a photoshoot….. and i know he will wake, and sleepily listen and agree or disagree or even encourage me a little bit more…. maybe he would grab me and tell me amazing like he has a million times, that he’s never met a girl so multi talented and beautiful and smart and funny, and independent and caring and quirky…brave and loyal…..He tells me how lucky he feels…. to have me… yet I don’t think he realises exactly what my life was before him. But then neither do i fully want him too…as because if he does thats all he may ever see…. a real damaged lost part of me.

I was told a few days ago ‘A piece of your heart has been carved out, its gone it will never return, and that hole thats gone it will forever hurt… but not because it makes you sad, but because it makes you feel lost, and incomplete’  This woman was a medium and she was right…..

But what if a soul mate mends your broken heart by simply giving you theirs…… Tomorrow i wake next to him, and we engrave each other with what we mark our body’s with best. He’s engraving my favourite portrait on my arm and poem on my thigh, and when he has finished…. he’s engraving his mark on me, as i asked him and he said only if he can wear a mark too. Thats when i thought he was too good to be true. But i won’t tell him that just yet…..


The most unanswered question in history…..

The most scientific and extraordinary minds of the last few decades and even of this era have neither solved or defined what ‘Love’ actually is.  We ask about gravity, its a force, we ask about prehistoric species and evolution. We question quantum theory and the universe, we  know very little about what lurks at the bottom of our oceans. Yet we still ask. Yet where are the questions of what love is? how it came about? who named it love? who discovered this was a emotion a feeling not a sense? How can we know so little about something that governs so much. Why haven’t the different types of love been subcategorised? I love coffee, but not in the same way I love my child. Love is a word that is throw around and used on a daily basis in daily conversations. Both with the people we love and with people who are colleagues.

Love governs us on a spiritual level on a emotional level on a physical level and a mental level. How can one four letter word some up something so big, so complex so mysterious so obvious.

Love the most deadly and destructive drug alongside heroin. Its addictive its yearned for, it changed people, perspectives, personalities, morals senses of who we are, the rights and wrongs of the world. It physically can change us as well as mentally and emotionally. The experiences I have had for me to compare it to one of the most horrendous drugs in the world must tell you something.


I always think of love the ‘fantasy type’ the type i want as the poem written by johnDonne ‘The rising son’ The first time i heard or read that poem, i knew i wanted someone to love me like that. I wanted to be that to someone, and i wanted to feel what it was like to be loved by someone so completely that i can almost touch their soul.  I see many poets and writers writing about love, likening it to a summers day, a butterfly or even a personification of a object. Yet when i write poetry about love, I liken it to a hunger starved frenzied fuelled wolf. The ripping of the meat the dying of they prey the oblivious wolf at his own instincts obeying his need for hunger opposed to the precious life of another, whom would not of turned on him through hunger. I suppose that doesn’t make me a hopeless romantic like i once thought i was, maybe it makes me a cynical realist.


My experience of love is that ‘ love does not conquer all’ It ‘destroys all’ confidence, self esteem it doesn’t make you feel beautiful it makes you insecure about your beauty. It does not comfort it makes you uncomfortable at the way he can so easily stray. The competition the idealism that i have to compete with with other girls, the images in magazines, and the perfection that so many girls seem to achieve so naturally.  I don’t care much for beauty. I know i am pretty and part of a genetic lottery that i won. Same with my physical appearance my body is slender with curves apple in the right places. I have no stretch marks, beautiful blue eyes, high cheekbones, a splattering of freckles and the ability to be whatever hair colour i desire and still look good. I am intelligent I am smart I am witty, I’am creative and I have my own house, car, business, child etc yet at approaching thirty I have not experienced a love that hasn’t left me scared so deeply that it is more feared than welcomed. Would you welcome a thief into your house after he has stole from you over and over again ? no… you wouldn’t it’s common sense.


So when can I ask and who do I ask what love is? why is it craved when its the most deadly thing on earth…… ?

Because simply, when its good……………. nothing else compares to it. When its good its the best drug for your senses to spring to life, for you to glow for you to be excited about. It is the one thing that makes us feel like we are truly someone.

Love is……..


It just is the most powerful thing to exist between two humans. I was told recently by a woman that had been married twice and lost her husband of 48 years to cancer three weeks ago to not give up the hope of love. I will share with you her story …..

Her first husband was a bastard and left her with two children, she gave him everything even her love, and was repaid with nothing but abuse and neglect. She met her second husband an used the cliche ‘ It was love at first sight’ As if she could read my mind, she held my arm and said ‘Its ok i didn’t believe in it either’ She then said that from that moment on she she she would marry him. I asked the most obvious question any novice would “didn’t you ever want to walk like leave?” Oh she said ‘We had our ups and down and once i did, I left for six weeks. He had been diagnosed with cancer and i told him don’t you dare die on me and leave me with four kids.” She gave a laugh at the fond memory and i think my heart cracked. I hope one day I can look back so fondly at my time with someone. So I asked why she left….

“I left because he sunk into such a deep depression, he wouldn’t leave the house, and i told him, you are coming to the shop with me, and he protested as his appearance was noticably ill. I told him i didn’t give a damn what he looked like i loved him and i was proud to be with such a fighter. He was mine and i was proud of him. But after he recovered from cancer he ended up taking a lot out on me and he wasn’t the man i married so i left. I had a breakdown and i left i found a little flat and i left. Six weeks and he realised what he had lost how much he loved me and we started dating again and we got back together. And I’m glad we did. It wasn’t easy to trust a man after my first husband, not at all. A cheat and a liar. But my second husband, well he would go out with the boys and get up to some tricks. But he knew who he loved and who made him happy, he knew i was loyal and waiting at home for him. And he respected me and my love enough never to betray me. That is what a man is, a respectable man that knows a woman worth.”

At this point I was crying, yet she was the one who lost her husband five weeks ago or there about, her ‘soul mate’ and i was crying. I had lost someone in a different way seven weeks ago and i wish i could talk as fondly as she could about her husband.

This woman was 76 years old and wore higher heels than i ever could balance in her appearance was pristine and her experience of love amazing. Even the fact on her 25th wedding anniversary they went on holiday and the couple next door were honeymooning, yet the newly wedded couple actually complained about the 25th year married couple for  the ‘noise’ they made. I laughed so hard when i found this out, as she so openly told me. So good sex is also the key to a happy marriage. So i asked her of the wisdom of her experience of love….

Her words simple ‘Don’t give up on love, it does exist the real love the soul mate type does, believe me. But don’t ever settle for anything less than someone loving you the best they can. Do not ever let a love be a sad or fearful type of love, as thats not love. And always be willing to compromise and express your feelings, as someone who loves you will never take them for granted or disrespect them. And most of all, smile, always smile my sweetheart, as its the only time the eyes to our soul opens up, and your eyes look beautiful when you smile.’

How she could see my smile or my eyes through my tears that would not stop creeping down my face i don’t know. But I can’t help but feel a bit cynical about love, as If its so good and soul mates are possible then why haven’t I got that hopeful feeling i once had. What if i had my soul mate and I walked away, how would i know? how would i know if the love of my life has been and gone or is yet to come? I love people in so many different ways and no lover i have ever loved in the same way. They have all been different apart from all hurting me so much it feels like my souls already in hell.

Love – the thing we know so little about but is still the reason we breath


The man….and me.

I have said before i do not blog enough. The bipolar i blame, for when i am manic i cannot write I’m too busy to be bothered. When I am low I am too disconnected and in a blanket of despair to write. Even though my lows are my most creative times, when i say creative i mean for writing poetry. I pour my emotions out on pictures of sunsets that day that have made me smile or made my heart a little less heavy to pull around. Then i have mu twitter which i have now changed to a different name in the hopes it remains anonymous somewhat from people who stalk it and condemn me for what i write. Even though its true. He was a lying cheating careless bastard. Anyway then i have my Facebook profile which i post very little on personally as i have a lot of people i do not know too well. Then i have my stagnate Facebook page that hasn’t see a new image in months. I haven’t picked up my camera for about three months. That is so unlike me, though i pick it up on Saturday to photograph a wedding. Not my creative hobby or outlet, but it pays the bills, makes me believe in love again if only for that one day. It means i cane be around people celebrating this wonderful day and present photos that will last a lifetime.


So for three months i have not used my outlet to photography anything. I did take it away on a spa break with my now Ex but again i did not take any images. The motivation was not there even though the ideas were. The visual picture was in my mind yet it never materialised into anything more. Normally after a break up (or three thousand with my ex) i would pick up my camera and pour my emotions into a image. Edit it. Release it and be freed as a prisoner from the pain the consuming emotions. Yet because of my bipolar i haven’t. I have had my medication adjusted and i have two new therapists. One of which i am so indebted too. I always thought therapy was a cop out for people who cannot deal with their own shit. And was full of proteins therapist with more certificates and text book intelligence and knowledge than actual experience. I was wrong or i struck it lucky this time. I wrote her a email from the contact page on her site. It was about 3 am in the morning and suicidal wasn’t even a close enough description of what i felt. I wanted to die, but suicide brings shame to ones family, so i imagined that night all the accidents i could be in, to maintain my families dignity. And keep the secret that i willed the house fire and laid in bed waiting for my death with excited anticipation. I didn’t know what to write in the email, do you introduce yourself as a person with a mental health disorder or do you just say hey i need your help i think i lost my mind, fancy helping me find it. Ill pay you. Or do you pour your heart out and if nothing else, and deal with the judgement and embarrassment? Well i took the risk and spilled my heart all over her contact sheet. As i slowly fell into my sleep i could only hope that there was some miracle in her reply. There was.

We met to see if i felt comfortable, as i don’t normally.  Yet i did instantly. I think it was more to do with the fact that i was utterly desperate for help or a solution that i would of trusted Hitler if he had said he had a cure. Four weeks ago i was that bad. Now? Im not better I’m not cured, I’m more stable and a bit happier, i have more confidence and i actually have learnt so much about myself. Its actually quite scary as i always thought myself as very self aware. Even the therapist commented on how self aware I am. I learnt a lot about my last relationship which has left me really messed up. I learnt about transference and can identify when this was happening. Even so much as a few weeks ago. I had a nasty email, which is a regular occurrence from the ex when we aren’t together and he hasn’t got some girl talking to him as a distraction. Or when he’s bored of them, or fed up of pretending to be a nice person, as he must find that exhausting.  It was about me having therapy and i had said that he has issues and through my therapist reading emails and text messages from the last few months that i had printed off that he has issues and would benefit from seeking help. He’s still in denial theres anything wrong with him, all the blame goes on other people. He hates guilt and obligation. Anyway I told him i was getting help to sort my issues out and the ones he had left me with and i was going to see my therapist on Wednesday at her house.  I normally see her in Cardiff bay, but she works on a self employed basis so she has a room off the main building of her house in which she uses as some people do not like the clinical feel. These people are normally her regulars and people who live closer or find it easier to travel to where she is. Anyway my negative ex proceeded in his email to tell me that she was not a real therapist if she had people at her house. That the price i was paying i was getting ripped off and the fact she seen he had issues just looking over his messages and emails shows she is unqualified. So there we go there is the introduction to my Ex instead of being supportive he was putting me down, my decisions and my experiences based on his…….???? exactly he’s never seen a therapist, God knows he should. But he always said I make up things in my head and go to war with them, that i take fictional stuff and use it as reality. Or my favourite one was that i had no logic in the way i think. I think his quote was ‘ You are one of the most intelligent people i have ever met, but you are the dumbest fuck to as you have no logic’ Exactly how would your mum and dad feel about him being around the dinner table? Parents are right for a lot of reasons.

So Tell me even though he has no experience or knowledge of therapists or their work its LOGICAL for him to make up FICTIONAL ASSUMPTIONS regarding what i know as fact. The thing I’m having therapy for is because of how manipulative he was and how he would always make me doubt my decisions and logic and thoughts. Quite sick really. I feel sick knowing it. I didn’t think the same as him, and he would always use my metal illness as thats why he was right and i was wrong. If its said enough times along with discriminating names and insults you kinda believe it. I did.

SO four weeks with my therapist, and people do think different to one another, thats why the word argument/debate exists thats why there are discussions in a relationship and compromise because people think different. These are based on the persons childhood experiences, family, culture, and many even beliefs. They are based on interpretation of situations experience with situations, knowledge and education level of people, peoples likes and dislikes. And ITS OK. It is ok to think and interpret the world differently to the person in-front of you at the queue, the neighbour, the family member the step parent the husband the boyfriend the bloody homeless man on the street. And each persons interpretation and opinion is as valuable as the other persons. It should not be degraded, devalued, disregarded or should it be seen as wrong. Or used as a tool to control or discriminate against. ITS OK. Thats what i have learnt its ok. Its ok that I believe that when we end our relationship and he flirts and sends explicit messages of himself to girls and receives them in return that i am right to see it as wrong, disrespectful and sleazy. Why am i ok to think this is right? because based on who I am, i do not do that to him, i do not degrade myself or our relationship when we end by causing myself more damage. I have more respect for myself that to expose my body to strangers, for them to masturbate over. I have more respect for myself as a woman and a lady to masturbate over pictures of a stranger opposed to sorting my relationship or issues out. I do do such things as i know if me and my partner resolve issues that i would feel terrible knowing what i had done. That the most intimate parts of my body that i pledge to someone i love have been carelessly given to a stranger. I have more respect for my partner for myself for my female counterparts. I am right to behave this way as my morals and principals tell me that sleazy type of behaviour is damaging to myself to other and to my relationship and any potential reconciliation i would have. This makes me think that I am right and what he is doing is wrong. As i have a different set of beliefs and morals and mature experience and respect towards myself and my relationship and partner/ex partner.

Now the opposing story i have been told when i have found out my partner/ ex partner has been doing this just hours after our break up is ‘I wanted to take my mind of you’ ‘I missed you’ I liked the attention’ ‘Its easier to talk to girls’ ‘I never physically done anything with them’ – Now these were a few of the lame excuses I was told. I was essentially disgusted at how willingly girls would send such pictures and act in such a trampy way. I was devastated that he would do this and it would make me feel worthless, competing with other girls who i classed as ‘skets’ a bit like slags. I found myself not wanting to argue or displease him in fear of him doing this again and me feeling so low. I also felt very ashamed of him as a partner. As the thought of passing one of them girls in the street after him and her had been so intimate made me feel sick. How could i hold my head high and say i have a decent gentlemen that treats me with respect when i – an she would know different. This happened 90% of the time in our break ups. Yet i was at fault for when we broke up accusing him of doing something like this again, when the probability was high. And then was i suppose to be grateful if he didn’t? I remember saying to my friend one day over coffee ‘******** has been good not flirted or talked to another girl in 6 weeks’ My friend was disgusted by the sentence that left my mouth and then so was I. When did i become the person that i was grateful for my partner to be loyal and faithful and not lie. AS lying was his first language, bullshit his second, manipulation this third and English his fourth. Its funny as he always wanted to speak another language yet he didn’t see how many he was already fluent in. Anyway, I looked closer to him and not myself. HE was perverted to be alone in his car or studio and be having lonely hand wanks over images of girls he didn’t know. He had no respect for himself or these girls, or me. He had no standards or morals or principals. He would talk to these girls and manipulate them into sending him pictures. He had no feelings for them apart from maybe a dick twitch that needed releasing. It was him that acted in a way i wouldn’t of and if i had acted in the same was as him JESUS CHRIST i would be all the whores and slags and disgusting whores going. Double standards right? Do you smell hypocrisy like i do now? It wasn’t that he missed me or wanted a distraction from me. It was when i would end us or walk away I took with me his power. His power to control me, to use me, I took it away. I wouldn’t obey him, or be manipulated by him or please him. Sooooooo what does a control freak need to do?. control! So he used another girl to manipulate to control, and that would obey him so he wouldn’t feel as if he lost his power.

I sit here writing this and wonder if i should even hit the send button and let this be torn apart by the world, read and picked over. If i should be ashamed of the person i was to stay with him to take so much….. or if it will reach some other girl and she will actually see… theres nothing wrong with her the problem does not lie with her but with him. Its a harsh realisation but one that sets you on a journey. See the most prominent thing i learnt from this is that my Ex liked to be someone else. As he was a very unhappy, insecure person. I found a lot of closure from someone he knew. I understand his childhood but i won’t use it as a excuse for his behaviour. We all have choices as adults. What we choose to do what action we choose to take defines us as who we really are. A excuse afterwards does not change that you have been a twat. It just makes it easier for you to get out of the guilt or not face up to who you really are. I remember him saying to me ‘ I can make anyone fall in love with me’ ‘I can get anyone i want’ – at first i thought what a ego and arrogance.

NOW? I see if you have the skills to manipulate and the insecurities most people have you transform into a monster. You play a role, you act, you become someone that the other person you are talking too wants to see. Everyone believes in love and are romantics all a guy has to do is press the right buttons. And he will if he has the skills and insecurities mine had. Thats why he liked talking to these girls and flirting as they didn’t know who he was, what he was capable of, they didn’t know him like i did. They didn’t know about his violent temper, his acid tongues ( he had his spilt in two, kinda ironic as he was a snakey bastard) They didn’t know the names he would not hesitate to lash you with how he would always keep you below him so he felt above you. That he would be so mean, that he was a compulsive lair, a person on medication for his temper and undiagnosed mental health disorder. He would not tell these girls he had a girlfriend ( oh yes he done it when we were together as well) he would even tell them that i was a stalker? I was his girlfriend of two years! But this boy would not want anyone to see him in a bad light. JESUS CHRIST HES SAINT FUCKING PAUL.  He couldn’t get away with the pretence with me, i knew he was a liar i knew what his hands felt like and i knew what his tongue was capable of and his controlling ways. These girls didn’t. That was the part he liked the best as he could for those couple of moments or hours pretend to be the person i believe he would like to be, but for whatever reason he choses not to be.

After three years i walked, I don’t want to go back, I should of left nine months into our relationship when i found out he was still seeing his ex… and six months after that when he was still seeing her and they were both lying cunts. I don’t blame her so much now, she was only told what he told her. She was stupid for believing him as i never did…. but thats another story. Its weird she hurt me so much and so did he, she had no loyalties to me and neither should she of…. she wasn’t my girlfriend, my friend or anything. But he was. Yet i still stayed with him. And for a while i was the only girl in his world. But that wasn’t enough, and i realised id never be enough for him. Because he wasn’t happy in himself about himself to be happy with someone else. He didn’t love himself so how could he love someone else. How can you receive love from another person if you can’t love yourself. He will never be happy or content. He wants to travel and i believe he should, it may make him grow up, it may make him see his issues. Though i have found out he has a new girlfriend.


Did this come as a shock, yeah in a way. Its only been five weeks since we split. An only four days since he stopped emailing. But yes she seems naive and she seems like a hopeless romantic. So he don’t have to manipulate her that much. He probably didn’t introduce himself by saying he was convicted of assault on his ex girlfriend or that he has a restraining order to not go near his ex girlfriend. He probably won’t tell her how early he split from me, and he probably won’t tell her the languages he speaks fluently. Poor Sarah thats all i can say. She has it all to come. And does a part of me want to reach out and save her from what i endured how fucked up i got and all his other exes, yes. What stops me? The fact he speaks fluent bullshit, compulsive lair amongst the others. Why don’t i save her? Because some people do not want to be saved, he didn’t want to be saved or changed. He improved massively and everything he got to this day in some way comes from me, from his job and his car from his travel destinations and more pronounceable vocabulary, from the way he dresses and holds himself in new company. The way he views certain things. I know in years to come he will love back and say ‘fuck, she loved me so purely’ And i did. I never wanted nothing from him, just love trust and honesty the foundations of any relationship. I just wanted a guy to look at me and see the potential we had. I gave him everything, my home, my heart, my time, my forgiveness, my family my car, my daughter, my passion, my knowledge, my beliefs i gave him all of me. I even gave him my mind to own. And now i have to heal it myself.

I was so upset when i found out he had ‘moved on’ as neither one of us ever does, we never physically do anything with anyone, and he never took it to the next level of giving his number out or meeting in person. And after a few days the girls he’s talking to loose their flavour to him. And he always came back to me. In a way i thought i had his heart, thats why he came back, as he knew how much i meant to him. I hoped this i suppose. As all us fools do. I thought enough flavourless girls would make him see that i was the best choice out of them all and he would change his ways. I hoped that he would see every time he hurt me yet i would take him back it was because i loved him. Not that i won some game. Just that i loved and believed enough in him to help him change. But I just wasted time and opportunities. Now he’s found someone else and we will never be the same, i will never look at him the same. And when i found out i cried, i cried so hard infant of my friend i let her hug me and i sobbed on the floor with her arms around me holding me up.

I went to see my therapist yesterday and i told her. I cried again and asked why the fucking hell was i crying and sad when i wouldn’t get back with him now!! why do i feel so emotional after i know i don’t want US back. For £60 a hour this is what i got….


“A person stands infront of two doors….

The one door she is told hell and pain is behind there her worst fears….

The other door….. no one knows what is behind it….. he doesn’t no or will she until she opens it and walks in and clicks it shut behind her.

-Most people choose hell and pain and their worst fears because as humans we develop coping mechanisms and a tolerance to these experiences these pains. We have a idea of what to expect so have a idea of how to deal with it. Its better the devil you know sometimes.”


I broke down crying so hard i emptied her box of tissues. I was sad because my option ‘ better the devil i knew’ was now taken away. I knew from him and overtime i took him back how he would act, treat me, what to expect, how i would feel, how i had developed coping mechanisms how i have a developed a tolerance to the pain or a immunity. I was upset that now if i didn’t like being on my own, i couldn’t go back to my devil. He brought me good and bad fear and anxiety, he took my insecurities and made them a reality then would condemn me for them.  Now i have no anxiety, I have no bad to expect, as i have no one to expect it from. No one is going to hurt me, i have good coming from my projects. I have a mobile home that i will start traveling in, in April then do Europe in In September till i decide to come home. Also i have flights booked to Iceland and a few other destinations. I have no insecurities as I’m not competing with any girls or the person i love will not betray me. I have no one insulting me or my bipolar disorder. I have no one being nasty and mean to me. I have no anxiety of him slipping up or being interested in another girl. And not just another bump but the bandages from all the other ‘mistakes, slip ups, girls, flirting’ are ripped off bringing everything back and killing me all over again. I have no one putting me down controlling me or messing with my mind. If i think different to someone else THATS OK it human nature to think different, no two people are the same. I have accomplished more in these five weeks since not being with him than i realised.

I have rebuild a relationship with my mum, which i appreciate and hold dear, i have strengthen the relationship between my daughter and I. I have a wonderful positive relationship with my Dad. I have bought a mobile home, gutted it refurbished it and i love it. Its a little home i can take anywhere with me. It has a coffee machine and it has everything i love thats quirky and me. I have emptied my attic of all my exes things. They have all been taken to the tip when i gutted the caravan. From his Cds to his furry throw. Everything of him has gone, pictures and gifts i have taken down. Not because i am bitter but because they don’t mean anything no more they are a anchor or reminder of a period in my life i no longer want in my present. I have had a book offer for my novel. I have a lot of weddings booked. I have projects lined up and i had the passion light up inside me when i was in therapy tomorrow when it came to a photoshoot. I have had male attention and a lot of it, it was nice and it felt strange. I have pushed it all away, no one i want to talk to or give my precious time to at the moment apart from myself. I am investing in a new camera. I am  writing a lot of poetry and i feel inspired with it, a freeing from it. I have three tattoos booked in for the tenth of march one to be reworked/covered and two new ones. I have developed a sense of self again. I have my appointment with my nurse ad i think i am going to have a bit of botox. I have my new silver/grey hair i have wanted for the last six months. I have new medication and I have new friends. And my old one i love to the marrow of her bones. I am investing in a new website so i can house my photography and poems and travels. I want to have somewhere to call my own, and i have a few more poems that are awaiting publication. I have learnt how to apply make up too……Every day it gets better. Even when I’m sobbing its still better because I’m learning and realising things about myself…… And my therapist is great. No matter what anyone else thinks she is having a positive impact on me… which means i can be positive around others and live my life…..

The better the devil i knew has gone so now…I have the unknown to venture through, to make my life and include in it whatever i want. Sometimes someone crosses your path and blows your world apart your emotions and mental stability. Because how else are you meant to put it all back together how you want to, how you deserve, and know what you deserve, if you don’t learn. My picture is not complete and I’m rebuilding my world….. while he is talking to a girl…. when the flavour fades i hope he sees a therapist and heals himself one day. Theres enough negative and bad people in this world, he should not want to be one too.





So my favourite month has pasted, October. While the leaves lay wet on the ground, my mood lays curled in them. I do not know what it is, but the thought of winter really really depresses me. I love October as the colours the beauty, it seems as if that particular season is celebrating a summer past, paying homage, in some way. Its the last season of beauty and warmth, before the Ice, bitter evil cold, and darkness descends. I have decided that i need to keep myself enthused in these months and inspired, and the only way to do so, is with my photography. I have been lucky enough to be invited to Rosie Hardy’s work shop in November. I look at Rosie’s work and I look at my own, and they couldnt be more different. Mine is dark art, Gothic, thought provoking, a truth in the fabricated ‘perfect’ world. Ans Rosie’s has colours and light, inspiration and fantasy, uplifting and positive. Not that mine is negative or depressing, just more of my dark thoughts, and feelings. I suppose the difference with mine and Rosie’s is mine is inspired by my mind, my mental health disorder and my view and thoughts because of this. I have however decided I am going to try, i use the word ‘try’ to conjure more ‘light’ and ‘fantasy’ images. More………. easy to look at for a lot of people. Not because I want more people to look or follow my work, but for me to explore the other side of my mental health disorder as fully as i explore and create from the dark side of it.  This will be my biggest challenge, ever. I do not look at images from most photographer like Rosie/Brooke shaden and be inspired to create something similar, I look and see what i would of done different in that image, and it turns into a completely different theme and genre to the original. I look at myself in the mirror, and I am a pretty girl, but I never enhance that, I always demean it. I look and see how can i make myself look ugly, and reflect how i feel right now. I function on emotions, my mental health disorder is now just a part of me as is the medication. Instead of running from my thoughts and thinking ‘there’s something wrong with me’ I actually embrace the thoughts and acknowledge, ‘this is me’. And After a seven year battle with myself/disorder i have finally come to accept its staying, so i just have to get use to it.

This mental health disorder may not be a blessing, but neither is it a curse. My medication does not make someone like/love me, who i am, my personality does.  The good of me eclipses the bad and everyone you meet who knows me will tell you this. A friend of mine, whose brother i dated a few years back, has recently got in a relationship with someone with bipolar. She asked me for advice, i told her to ask her brother as he has the experience of being in a relationship with someone who did. After she had spoken to her brother, she dropped me a message and said that every good, thoughtful, unique, and adorable thing she thinks of this ‘bipolar guy’ Her brother thought of me. He still has the most respect love and care for me as one of the best people hes ever had the privilege of being able to say he loved. This was a beautiful, thing to hear, and funnily enough its the most common thing my exes and friends say about me. My latest partner always said he would never change me, or take the bipolar away, as he has never met anyone as amazing as me. He loves me and everything the bipolar brings to me. And to be quite honest, after seven years, i have to admit so do I. Learning to love yourself, feel comfy in your own skin, and wear it with pride and confidence is something that turns your life around and your mental state more than surgery, wishing different, or attention and compliments from other. Realizing WHY you are beautiful is more valuable than any handbag, car, house or designer clothes.

So here is my pledge to try to explore the ‘other’ side of my bipolar. The more …uuummm uplifting and fun, the more empathetic, and tender pieces of me.


It was for the best…..

Sometimes, only sometimes can i say i have done something for the best and it hasn’t worked out that way. It is true everyone who fights a war thinks they are right. No one person, decent person would choose to make a decision for the wrong reasons, for themselves and others to suffer. I have crossed paths with many people and discovered alot about myself and the world i live in. Not every discovery has been met with welcomed arms, and fondest memories. People included. But its the way we are shaped and taught for future encounters. I often am asked if i believe in God, I do not. That neither makes me a lesser person or a more narrow minded person, i think it incorporates a more open mind about possibilities. I do not believe in a god, or multiple gods, if people actually throughout researched their religion with a open mind they would see the many flaws in theories and encounters and transcripts. The fact a few hundred years ago the church and religion was profitable, and a controlling dictatorship. But only those willing to live in the reality of the world will see. I am neither a Atheist, I do believe in the spiritual world. I also believe in science as there are facts proven studies. I believe humans have come such a distance from the spiritual connection they could have with themselves, others and the world. The energy in which all living things are made of are all connected and somewhere we have lost the frequency in which we use to be connected too. The most damaging is technology, the birth of the internet, i say that as a hypocrite who is using this medium to communicate on, because that is now the only way to communicate with someone. Via a electronic device that emits energy enabling us to connect with one another. Its quite sad, the fact we become so reliant on this form of communication and the internet instead of being used to research, expand, and enlighten us as human beings is being used as a basic form of communication. Instead of researching we are facebooking, instead of gaining knowledge we are gaining lives or likes on some social platform. The world has become alot less three dimensional. We like or save pictures on our phones and devices, but how many can we hold, as a actual photograph. The beautiful sights of places are being clicked away at and splashed all over social media, yet how many people actually sit and look, actually look at the details, feel the vibe, the atmosphere and indulge in the moment rather than trying to capture it. I again sound like a hypocrite as a photographer. Though i do print off my photographs, i ensure i enjoy the moment rather than capture it, if i do capture it its a bonus but if i dont enjoy the moment there was no point. I do not read beauty magazines, i have no interest in fashion, or the shallow industry and models they represent. I do not like consumerism or politics but i watch the psychology of them.  And the direction in which they are going is shocking.  I suppose i wonder why alot, why people are as shallow as they are, with their looks, other peoples, material objects, and money. I would love more than anything for a ban to be put on the internet every social platform for one day or a week, and watch people realise how they have all forgotten how to communicate like actual humans. That their self worth comes from themselves and not likes on a image, that beauty is what you see in the moment not through the camera on your phone, or the image splashed across a magazine. The fact that relationships are worth more as the next girl friend or rebound is not a friend request away. That the instant access to people is something that only true friends and family should have, not random strangers. That privacy is a actual thing, and how do you expect other people to value yours if you do not value it yourself. The world has drasically changed, but i see it change for no better. Girls show more flesh on their media sites than they do when they go swimming, skirts have got shorter, mind you so have shorts, and morals have become a thing of the past. One generation not so long ago a lady was a lady, and a man was a gentleman, a mans word was his oath, and a woman’s self respect was a prized attribute. Now a woman’s arse, pout or breast are that, and a mans word is a reliable as the British weather. When did these attributes, manners, morals and principles become extinct? And more importantly why is no one citing a war to revive them. I would love to blame technology, but unfortunate technology is useless without its user.