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.

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Coffee and cigarettes …

Its a early hours in the morning kind of blog again. Bipolar kicks my arse and sometimes i let it… its nice to feel something other than medicatedly numb.

I was inspired to buy a camera because my heart got broke… I knew nothing of the damn thing, only the man who broke my heart had one. He captured images of me i was his subject and his muse. Then my heart was broke and he became my muse. Every image was haunted with him. Things i wanted to say or scream, things i wish he would see. Other things i just needed to release… find a part of me. With every self portrait i looked at the mens, like i did before when he held it. I gave the expression with my eyes. As a model you are not allowed to pull a expression with your face, no muscles must move within your face but you must pull your emotion through your eyes as if it were your soul, your heart. And you had it over to the camera. As soon as that shutter shuts, its captured a part of your soul. Anyone can pout, and anyone can smile, but to say it with your eyes… and let someone read your mind and soul is being naked.

It was through my images i met another man….. I thought my heart was broken and i had lost the love of my life. Then ‘this’ man strolled in. Well strolled is the wrong word, more like crashed. And for the first time in so long i actually ‘felt’ i felt something other than hollowness…. emptiness and anger. I felt love again. We went through so much from him leading a double life. From anger and rage, from both of us. From trust issues to lies. From prison and restraining orders and random stalking and phone calls. Theres always that pull. I think in loving him, i lost a piece of me. Every image over the last three years has some way been inspired by him. If it wasn’t through hurt, or anger, or betrayal. It was through despair it was through confusion. It was through painful aching love and worthlessness i felt. He was my inspiration. Every hurtful word he would say, would inspire me in some way. Every lovely gesture would inspire me. He is my portfolio, of my emotions, my journey. I think because of the bipolar i may feel alot deeper or react alot stronger to situations. Maybe its the writer in me? maybe its the melancholic soul i have? Maybe its because i’m a hopeless romantic? Maybe its because i don’t want to believe i fell in love with a monster and then he turned me into one. Theres alot of maybes and questions and ill probably never get them answered not really. Truth is i don’t want them answered as then i’m in a reality of the real. I have never been much fond of that. Maybe i read to many books and enjoy being tragically in love. Where is the fun in being happy? Its alien to me, it scares me, it panics me. It terrifies me. At least when things are wrong you know they can get any worse. But to be happy and then to fall…….. i know what that feels like. The happier you are the higher the height you fall from. So my advice ‘ never get to happy, enjoy it, but don’t think it will last. Trust me it never does’

 

Now for the worst confession of all time……. ‘Happiness writes white’ If i am happy no images appear, if I am happy no poems are written. I am inspired by heartbreak, by depression, by pain and by being hurt. I am a fucked up girl.  Theres ‘life’ and ‘death’ and then there nothing but sadness in-between, thats what i capture…. thats what I release. Everyone can look at a pretty image, only those who know the colour of the depths of depression and pain can look at ones that aren’t pretty and see the beauty. I guess thats why i wont do pretty pictures…. I don’t want fame from my images or to be ‘well known’ I refuse commissions that aren’t my style and pass them on to someone else. I wont change my style or message to cater to the masses…. or the majority. I fit in with the minority. The people who have not only been to the edge … but know whats over it. But to do that i cant be happy. I look through my stream on flickr or 500px and i can tell you the month and reason and feeling and why that photo was created. When i go back to Oxford, my happy place, my safe place, my home. I never do a shoot or take a picture. I take my camera every time but i cant take a picture i’m too happy and safe…. Im too in awe at being peaceful and calm.  I have to now torture myself with the insecurities i have, the questions and the hurt and suffer i sustained through my last relationship to still create images. For as long as i do that i’m never to move on…..

 

Would i prefer to be a tortured artist or a happy wife/girlfriend with mundane pictures?

Tortured artist every time.  I don’t want to see the world as it is… I want to see it and the other worlds within it. I want to show people they aren’t alone…. everyone can relate to one of my images. When that stops happening i will sell my camera. I have decided however to challenge myself like only i can do….. I am going to do short fifteen second videos too. So now i need to learn how to edit videos. Because for the things i cannot capture in one shot ……. which is rare…. but maybe if i can maybe do video editing maybe it will help me overcome some of my inspirational block. Or maybe i just need to be with the person who breaks me best as thats the only time i feel inspired or alive.

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.

 

 

Cobwebs…….

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.

My fear, My love, My weeping soul.

I always imagine the mind, heart and soul as separate entities. My biggest fear are clowns, i have had a phobia of them since childhood. So as a child i was scared of clowns, something most children considered to be friendly and safe. Something that brings laughter and fun into your world. Now I’ am a adult and I am scared of love, I think i have developed a phobia of love. Something most people think is beautiful and life enhancing is something that now terrifies me. So much so My soul quivers at the thought of such, and my heart wants to claw its way out of my throat and chuck itself under a train. Its a less painful and slow death, that it being destroyed by that thing called ‘love’.

I do not believe there is any reason for someone to lie or be deceitful, yet i base that on my own principles and morals. So to expect that from others, well i’m set up for disappointment really. Photography is a massive outlet for me, from ideas, emotions, and poems. I have a emotion burning inside me, one that cutting my arms will not release or calm. So i turn to my camera, and from the viewfinder I see my backdrop, and i smile. I set up my equipment, lock my focus and loose myself in my poses. Running back to t the camera after ten clicks, seeing if ‘the’ pose i want has been captured. Once it has, i move onto the next. The extra shots of angles, and additional characters. Then I pack up trudge to my car to come home to normality. Where i lock myself in my bedroom and i decide to loose myself again in my world and emotions by creating in lightroom/photoshop what only i can see in my imagination. Then I finish it….. and i display it for the world to see, judge and criticise. I suppose its another form of self harm….

Facebook posts and reach is really annoying me at the moment. It will say 600 people have seen the post and it will only be liked by 15 people. Now thats not too bad, but when I have over sixthousand genuine likes on my page from stream generated from magazines linking to my page and from other websites linking to my page it has frustrated me ALOT! i watched a video that said about how it is about timing, and about the new ‘ see first’ button. It annoys me why does it all have to be so complicated. Why cant the people who like you page see your stuff because they liked it in the first place just because i post at random times it does not mean they should not see it or at least get the chance to see it.

Facebook sucks arse……..Fuck  you SUCKERBERG!!