But I just feel too tired to be fighting, guess I'm not the fighting kind.

I suppose I don't know where my head has been for six months. Some days it was here, some days it was with lost loved ones, some days it was just lost altogether and others it was with him. I move to Greece for at least 2 months a week today. The big change has finally came. There have been a few important loose ends to tie up. Nick came round to drop off a phone that we bought last year to take to the Dominican. It was awful, seeing him and hating him, he looked sad and like he wanted to chat, but i couldn't. I felt so mad at him for moving on so quickly, even though I know in my heart of hearts that it is just a rebound for him and what he needs. I know he still loves me, can tell when he looks at me, been told by my best friend who's boyfriend is his best friend. But, still...it hurts. Not because I want to be with him, not that at all, just we were together for so long, there were times that I never thought that he would ever be with anyone else other than me.

And then there's him. We said our goodbyes, it was quick, things got awfully strange at one point but then reconciled at the end. He told me how much he loved me, how great I was going to be in Manchester, to call him if I needed anything in Greece because he worked in the same place for two summers himself. It didn't break my heart like I thought it would, we were too far gone, and I guess I've know this was coming from the start. But still I have thoughts of him, especially since my brother came in from a night out with him the other day, told me that he was asking after me, then slipped in that he'd actually brought a girl along. I don't know if it was a date, who she was, no matter how much facebook creeping I have tried and failed to find out. I guess it doesn't matter, doesn't matter at all. I want him to be happy, truly and genuinely, but I know that there is such a massive part of me that wants to be the one to make him happy. I can't even romanticise it now. I don't think there'll be a day when there is not that spark, but I know now that I'm not going to see him for a very long time. I stayed at my best friends last night, we spoke about it, she looked at me mid-sentence "you're in love with him aren't you?" I just looked back, not even shocked, more surprised it took this long for her to notice. "I can't believe it...you are so in love with him. What are you gonna do?" What can I do? Nothing. Let it go and stop this fucking aching in my chest that has been troubling me for months. I'm gonna go to Greece and feel some freedom from him, remember what it is like to go out and enjoy myself alone. I'm going to find a nice 6'2", tanned, toned man to keep me company, and I'm going to have a fucking blast with my two best friends. Then I'm going to come back, get into university, move to Manchester and finally put behind me the god awful year that was 2010 and the car crash of the recovery 6 month that is 2011.

The clock has just struck midnight. It's now officially 6 days until I leave. It's the 16th June...it's exactly one year since Nick and I went to the Dominican. I was so miserable this time last year, even though I was about to fly to the Caribbean, I was in a prison of a relationship. I sit now, so full of sadness and longing, but for once, in so long, happiness, excitement...and hope. I have a wonderful life, it's hard and challenging and a constant test, but I'm about to go and have the summer of my life...and in all fairness, there are much worse things to have ahead of you.

I would do anything for love...but I won't do that.

I can handle nick meeting someone else, allowing them to be his girlfriend even though it seems like we have only been split up for 5 minutes. It is obvious that I have not been sitting around thinking about him, that I have managed to move on. I finally feel good about being on my own, as much as he is still in my life, I do feel very much single. I feel like it is finally over. Just as well saying as he goes back to London in the next couple of weeks, then I will probably not see him again for another 6 months or so. Hopefully by that time he will not cross my mind every day. He doesn't plague me or determine my nights out anymore, we are in a good place. I know I will think of him every time I hear Michael Bolton, I am pretty damn certain of that. Even now, when it comes on my shuffle, I smile to myself. It was last night, I was sitting in the club talking about Nick, said I was thankful for my rebound because he stopped me from getting back with Nick, but I was more thankful for him because he was the first one who made me genuinely happy. To feel completely comfortable with somebody. I think I will always love him, it was a quick love, painful and painless. I know it isn't over, that maybe it never will be, that my heart will always break when he looks at me, that I'll always wish that circumstances were different, that we could at least give it a go. But we are dangerous, he makes me far too powerful and far too weak. There has never been a happy medium in anything we do, passionate kisses followed by too tender of hugs. Kissing my nose, then biting my lip.

I'll see him around, smile whenever I hear a Londoner, catch my breath when I smell him. I will always want him, that's ok though, life always has a funny way of making sure you get the most out of it...and for now, I feel I have gotten the most out of him. He has allowed me to love again, fall quicker and harder...for that, I will walk away without looking back, and into my new life, completely and blissfully alone.

Set fire to the third bar.

I lost a best friend. On 15th September 2007. When I write it out it seems like so long ago, it feels like another life, I like to think that he still crosses my mind at some point every single day, but I'm not sure of that. However, I do know, that he crosses my mind in my most troubled of days, my saddest and happiest times. The days that you will look back and remember. The important days. My friend, Jordan David Thompson, lost his long battle with leukaemia age 15. He had survived once, it was in between the first and second battle that we became close friends. I believe that everything happens for a reason, and I know that I was lucky enough to have this guardian angel so that I would always have a standing point, when life seems difficult I would always have something, someone, to look at and aspire to be. To think 'what would Toma do?'

Losing a friend, so young and under such horrifying circumstances, is a very selfish thing I found. I wanted everyone to know that he was mine, that he was my friend, that this pain was mine, no one else's. Although, of course, it was so many others as well.

I cried for days. I walked around in a daze for weeks. Friendship was the only thing that got me through.

I remember, it was a friday night, my friend Rachel rang me, sobbing. Telling me Toma was getting worse, that they didn't think that he'd make it through the night. I was 15 at the time, just walked out of the house at 11pm. It was warm, the end of summer. I met Rach at the bottom of my street, she could barely stand. i didn't cry, the news hadn't hit, my head was all over. We all met up at the shops close by, sat on a field. Discussed everything. As it happened, it was said that if he made it through the night, he should be ok. He made it through the night, and the following day. We all went out to a gig that night, went our separate ways after an hour or so because we weren't actually old enough to get in. My friends dad picked us up while others went to the cinema. We were almost home, her phone went, she dropped it after about 20 seconds. Screamed so loud I remember actually reaching to open the door even though we were driving. We went to my friends, Andy. We had all split up about 2 hours before, yet suddenly we were all back together within the space of about 15 minutes. The night is a blur. He was gone. I cried for his mother, his father, but most of all his little sister. Because I could never image my life without my big brother. I could try and tell you about that night, but all I remember are the facts, everything else is muddled in the most painful of memories.

I can sit here now, 19 years old, and wonder why I have been given an extra 4 years on Jordan. Why do i get to live? Grow up? But to be honest, other than those 4 years, I have nothing on Jordan. He is my inspiration, my comic relief, my angel. I know that there is a heaven because there is no other place that he could possibly be. I can see his face so clear, so painfully clear. I smile thinking of it, no sadness at all when I see him this clear. I could say that I know Jordan would have been great if he was given the days, but he was already great. He was everything I long to be, positive, funny, caring, so full of life.

So, today, on his would-be nineteenth birthday, I spare a million thoughts for my friend, for our memories together, for the next nineteen years that I will try to match his courage and his strength, and try to be half the human being that he was. I love you, Toma. Thank you for letting me know you, and fall head over heels for you just like everybody else you ever met did. I miss you every single day, happy birthday xxx

This love is dirtier than you think.

I saw him, finally, a week later than I had anticipated. With two of my best girlfriends, Lauren and Hannah. Hannah's jaw dropped when she seen him, said she couldn't take her eyes off him, Lauren, a girl who really has never shown interest in men, said that he was divine, that finally she understood all the fuss. It wasn't what I wanted to hear, although it did make me smile. He saw me, he looked backed down to what he was doing, still smiling, he was serving others but kept his eyes on me. I got to the bar, he gave me a hug, whispered that it was good to see me. I felt very cold towards him and I don't know why, i was suddenly aware I hadn't seen him for 7 weeks and it wasn't as comfortable as it usually was, even though it was by no means awkward. I don't know if it was just because the girls were watching our every move. He asked me where we are going later "Why? You never end up coming out on a Saturday." I reply. "I will tonight, I hear you were at the strippers on Monday, we'll go there."he suggests. "I have a funny story for you about the strippers that you'll love" I was out with my brother and his friends on Monday, indeed at the strippers as his best friend is the manager and we get ludicrously cheap drinks, it was a brilliant night, until my brother seen a text off him by absolute chance and darn bad luck. He went berserk, we had half an hour argument over one measly text which, for the record, said absolutely nothing. It gave me a glimpse into the consequences of what would happen if he actually knew the half of it.

After about 3 minutes of conversation I ask the girls what they think of him "It is clear that he only has eyes for you, something about the way he looks at you and speaks to you, its like there is only you two. He is stupidly handsome, and stupidly confident, but there is something about him, I don't trust him." says Hannah.

"I don't like him. He is too confident I'd even say he was arrogant. I don't trust him with you, he's got a look in his eye when he talks to you that I don't like, like he knows what he's doing to you. He laps up all of the attention and just loves it. He seems like a complete prick and I 100% do not trust him with you." That is Lauren, my best friend talking. The one person who opinion I wanted to hear because I knew she'd tell me the full honest truth. I can genuinely put my hand on my heart and admit that yeah, he is confident verging on arrogant, he does lap up the attention, even thrives off it. But he is not a prick, he is actually one of the loveliest people I know and a joy to be around, but it is apparent that he does give off this first impression as this is what another friend thought of him the first time she met him.

We are set to leave the bar, I do my rounds to say good bye to everyone. I save him for last, tell him I'll text him later and that I'm staying at his "Tonight?" he asks "Stay on Monday please, you'll have work in the morning and I don't get home 'til about 3." He's right but I don't care, there are some things I need to do and say. It's now or never I tell him. He says that's fine, but we won't get anywhere near enough Michael Bolton into 5 hours as we should.

I think I stagger out at his at about quarter to 4, he came and met me out of the taxi, as soon as he seen me he grabbed my face and kissed me. It felt normal and familiar, good to be back. I tell him about Callum seeing the text, he is instantly alarmed, asking what he knows, if he knows. I reassure him that I talked him out of any ideas he may have had. I tell him that I'm glad he left when he did, that things got a bit heavy the last time I was there, he agrees and said that he had thought that, had forgot about it until he saw me again. Is it just wanting what we can't have I ask him. Probably, he answers, but we'll never know anyway. He is, of course, correct. The rest of the night, as they say, is history...

I sit here today feeling so calm about everything, so much better. Getting said things out of my system has given me such incredible clarity. We have been dangerously in lust since day one. So much so that we were willing to ruin relationships for it. I suppose we have in some ways. I love him, but not in the way I thought. I know he is going to be a part of my life and that this is by no means the end. But now, I feel that I can go on living my life without thoughts of him darkening every moment. I feel light, weightless, it is unbelievable. I hope we enjoy our last few weeks together, because above and beyond everything, I like to think that we are friends before anything. I am glad that that is finally my priority and first thought when I think about him. I know that if we could be together then we would be, but finally it seems that we both know that we can't, and that is ok. I hope I get the chance to enjoy him properly now, he is still my happy place, I think he will be long after I move away, but instead of that thought scaring me, as it has for months, it gives me great comfort.

What a difference a day makes.

Tomorrow will change everything again, I am anxious, but by no means as much as I thought, for today, I, and the rest of the world, witnessed the most incredible of fairy tales. Two people, declaring their love to the world, in the most exquisite way. So I dedicate this, not to myself for lasting six weeks with a messed up head and no way to clear it, but to William and Kate, and to their long and happy lives together. I am very proud to be British today, I am very blessed to be born and raised in such a historic, traditional and all-round charming country. God save the Queen.

Stay with me.

I think over the past month and a half I have been brutally undecided. I want him, but not really all of him, I don't want a boyfriend, I couldn't, I move so soon it's starting to feel real. It has been almost 6 weeks since I last saw him, almost 5 since I spoke to him, until Sunday, when in my drunken haze I text him saying 'I am definitely ready for you to come back.' his reply, 'I am on my way....x'

I adore the cheekiness of him, always the charm that gets me. I've missed so much about him, but mostly I have missed the happiness of being around him. My friends are asking me if I am excited to kiss him, to cuddle him, to sleep with him eventually. To be honest, I don't want any of those things, I can't remember what it is like to kiss him, not because it has been so long, but because it is irrelevant. I genuinely just want to see him. No words, even though I have missed that voice. I just want to be around him, feel his eyes on me when I'm dancing with my friends, feel his smile as he sees me getting chatted up at the bar and I'm declining. I am so intrigued about how I'll feel when I see him, calm, like I normally am? Excited, because let's face it, it has been so long and it is quite exciting? Nervous, in case his reaction isn't what I'm expecting? Disappointed, because I've built up this whole thing and seeing him will just make me realise what a lost cause this all is?

I'm trying to get the girls to come out on Saturday as I know he is back at work then and I'll definitely see him, but it is a bank holiday weekend, and we always do a Sunday. If we do the Sunday I know I will be on edge all night as I know he'll be out and I don't want to bump into him, I need to psyche myself up for this. I won't be able to play it how I want if you introduce the element of surprise. They all laugh at me, they know what an absolute pantomime this is, how big of a game we are both playing. It is an insult to my intelligence. I know he is probably fucking numerous girls, I know people listening or reading this will probably think why do it to yourself? I haven't got an answer, other than I am thriving off the chase. But I know it goes deeper, he can fuck who he likes, because I know we have something that goes so far beyond that that we haven't even gone there. So far in fact that we have sat in his house and weighed up the pro's and con's of sleeping together, and actually decided not to put ourselves through the after math. Although, to be honest, I am considering it more and more each day. I need to know if this is just serious lust or, dare I say it, love. I don't know if it is worth the risk.

In an ideal world, I would walk in there on Saturday, see him, feel nothing but happiness for seeing a friend. That would be good, that would be painless.

Always on it.

I had such a wonderful day yesterday. All of my friends are home from university for Easter and it's really the first time that we've all been out together in months. We went out 3 'til 3. A 12 hour Easter session, starting at the local pub, then into town. I adore my friends, they are all so special to me in their own way and I know how lucky I am. We have all had long friendships and have been through so much together that sometimes I forget that we are only 19. I don't know how I would have survived recently without them there, dancing with me, drinking with me, laughing with me, crying with me...just generally being with me. I know that the next few months are going to be rough, for a million different reasons, good and bad, but I know that they'll be there to laugh about it all with.

I'll leave you with this little anecdote that I think sums up our lives perfectly...

My good friend Kerry often gets so drunk she barely knows her own name. She doesn't lose control of her limbs, simply her mind. It gets to about 1am this morning and I am having a drink in SJ's after hours, my friend Sam manages to get in as well, she is dragging kerry by the arm and shouts to me "Courtney, I can't deal with her, you're gonna have to take her."

Kerry sits at the other end of the room sulking. The manager of SJ's, Lynne, takes one look at her and says "Out." I'm surprised, Lynne always allows any one of us to stay after, I wonder why she's turned on Kerry. Kerry sits there looking at her, being a dick and refusing to leave, Lynne turns to me and tells me that she had previously kicked Kerry out of the bar for fighting in the toilet. (This in itself is hilarious, Kerry has been in one fight in her life, again, very drunk. She was hit twice at an outside festival, after which she turned to the surrounding crowd, laughing, and said "Have I just been hit?") I drag Kerry out of the bar, embarrassed. I spend so much time there, they are amazing with me, half price drinks and I am always there after hours. I love them to bits. We get in a taxi, Kerry is screaming for the cab to stop a couple of miles from home, the taxi driver is flustered, I am telling him to ignore her. I pay for the taxi and have to explain the exact place she lives as Kerry is now saying "I'm not telling him where I live!".

This morning I wake up and call her. She has no recollection of anything, she came home with no shoes on and no bag. But she did have one thing, a Facebook message off a man saying this...

"Hello, you probably don't remember me, but last night you stole my burger so I stole your phone. If you want it back, you have to give me £3."

Part two.

Eleven days, the name of this blog and ironically the amount of time I have left before he comes home. I haven't wrote in a while, probably because my head has been in too much of a mess, moments of clarity followed by days of confusion. I haven't spoken to him since the day after he left, the morning I had to text to apologise for my behaviour the night before. I was out with friends, ended up with my brothers good friend, Richard, who over the years has became like family, and more recently like a best friend to me. We talk, very drunk, about everything in our lives. He tells me all about the woman who he is in love with, who is engaged to another man, but who vows to end it soon so that they can be together. I don't know what I tell him, because I sure as hell can't tell him about this. Yet on this particular Saturday, over our standard treble vodka and Red Bull he turns to me and asks "Who's hand are you holding these days then?" "No-one" I answer I can't tell Richard about him, they are all ex-collegues, friends, interlinked - I would not put him in the position of having to keep something from my brother. "What's going on with him then?" He motions to the bar, I know exactly who he means, even though he is in fact in London and no where near the bar this night. "Who?" I question, smiling. There is no one else for him to mean, the place is filled with old friends, people who have always been in my life and who are more like extended family. "I saw this coming from day one," he continues "the moment you met, I saw it. I told him to stay away, even stood behind him while you talked and told him to stop. He didn't of course, dirty little southerner, knew you were too good for him, but I hated the way he looked at you. He's bad news and you know it." Richard isn't the first person to mention how he looks at me, and it makes me feel a little light headed, I tell him everything.

He tells me why my brother is so against us. Because that is exactly who he was about 5 years ago, handsome, charming, a dick head. I can understand that. I'm told repeatably that night that I am going to look like a fool and I start to believe it. I am no different to anyone else, I admit this. Richard tells me that that is the exact problem, I don't know how good I am, but he does, he can spin it, he can twist it. I tell him that I have stayed there twice, but I have not had sex with him. This makes me happy, and I must admit, takes him back a bit.

By this point I am heavily drunk, I text him, telling him I am no ones mug, that Richard knows about us and I am done. I get no reply. I wake up, gutted about it. I know what I am doing, I am not naive and I am defiantly no ones mug. I go to work, hungover and devastated, mope around for four hours, I check my phone as i leave...'How's the hangover, beautiful?'

I am honestly beginning to hate this kid, but love him more as he is away. I think about him far too much, and wish the days away. So here I am, eleven days from him being back, eleven days away from avoiding him at all costs because my heart can't bare to have him leave again, this time for good.

Everyone knows I'm in over my head.

"Hahahahaha beautiful text! But seriously, it's gonna be a tough month, keep the loaf close! See you when I'm back...x"

I've booked a one way ticket to Greece today with my two best friends and the above is what has made my day.

Tell me how am I supposed to live without you?

I didn't have to wait until Wednesday. It came sooner, Monday. I was out with a friend and all of her work friends, pretty much strangers, but after a few trebles everyone is family. I was enjoying myself, dreamily drunk and laughing. I was on my gay friends back, he is so tall and my dress was short. I was giggling trying to climb aboard his 6 foot 4 frame. My dress was rolled right up, showing my bare arse to the world, I was shouting telling the girls to pull it down, laughing hard about something entirely different. I could hear boys behind me laughing and cheering at my behind and my struggle. Then I heard him "It's fucking Courtney!". I'd know that voice anywhere. That broad cockney accent amongst the strong Geordie that is my own and the locals. "Fuck my life, it's him" I whispered to Craig, still aboard, not having to turn around. I felt his hands on me, pulling me down and my dress into a more acceptable position. I can't help it, I feel my face break into the smile that I know only comes when I'm with him. Rachel, one of my best girl friends who was there from the start of this mess, turns to her friends, "Here we go..." she says not so quietly. My gay friend stands with his mouth open "Who is that?!". I smile, smug again. It's cold, he pulls me into him, lifts me up, kisses my head, we chat for a while, we're going to different clubs but he asks me if I'll stay the night, "You, me and Michael Bolton, what more could you want?" It's a good question. Nothing.. I say I'll call him later, he leaves, and my night is made. Off 3 minutes worth of conversation. I think that it was the surprise, the situation. Other than the first night that we ever spoke I have not been surprised to see him, it has always been expected, I liked that at least that part was on my terms.
I go to the biggest gay club in the city. We are ridiculously drunk, dancing to Abba, loving life. I know I'm going to see him, that is the best part. It gets to about 2:30 and I call him, tell him I'll be half an hour, that I'm going for food and I'll jump into a cab...so I do. The taxi driver looks at me at some point during the journey..."It isn't often you see a smile like that at this time, he must be special" I'm looking out of the window, unaware that my face isn't set in its regular straight manner, his comment takes me aback a bit.
He meets me at the shop outside of his house, kisses me straight away, we are laughing about something. I end up lieing on the grass, him beside me and my stomach hurts from laughing, I can't put my finger on what we were laughing at now, but he is winding me up about the states that I get in and how he doesn't know how he can handle me. I wonder how I am handling this. Being so worryingly happy off absolutely nothing. We go up to his room, he gets a bottle of wine even though we have drank way too much. I can remember sitting there, in his own bedroom, praying that he'll come back for me. So ridiculous when I think about it, but even though it is the second time I have been there in only a couple of weeks I can not believe how much I like him. He puts Michael Bolton on as promised, our favourite. We start talking, about everything. My fucked up year, my break-up, his break-up, his move, my grand parents. He looks at me during the latter, as I pour about my grandmother, a subject I haven't spoke about to anyone other than my best friend. "I hope that is me one day." I look at him shocked, I'm talking about my grandma on her deathbed after only being ill for 6 weeks. "Why on earth?" I question.
"She'd just lost the love of her life. When I get married I hope I go that soon after my love dies, some people aren't meant to live without each other. That is the love I want." I remember the look he gives me as he says this. He looks at me, I look at him. We know we could have that and it is ludicrous. I am falling in love with this kid and I am suddenly terrified. We start talking about my brother, but not like normal, not about how we shouldn't be here but more dismissive. "We're only having a kiss and cuddle" he says. "You know that's not all we're doing" I say, and he gives me the look, its fierce and sad. But I have told him about my move to Manchester, he tells me he goes regularly to visit friends, it doesn't make a difference of course. I know I'll have to leave this behind.
He drops the bomb then. He is going home to London on Saturday...for a month. He is back for three weeks, then away again for the summer. By the time he gets back, I'll be gone.
I got the night that I wanted, I had things to ask. I needed to know if he feels the same. I know he does. We are disgustingly perfect for each other. We laugh far too hard, tell each other far too much. We haven't slept together, I'm terrified to, I think he prefers it that way as well, even though we lie one step away from it, craving each other. We know it's going to make it messier than it already is, if that is even possible. So he holds me, right the way through Rod Stewart's greatest hits. I leave in the morning and tell him I'll see him on Wednesday, knowing that I'm not going to. That I need to cut my ties now before my heart splits clean in two by spending an extra minute with him. I hold onto him a second longer than usual when I leave, tell him I'll miss him. Give him a smile. "That smile, trouble." he says sadly. I adore when he calls me Trouble. He kisses the side of my mouth and I leave. I think I can 100% say that I am falling for him, the one thing I said I would never do. But I think he is breaking his rules as well. We haven't stuck to a single rule since the day we met, so I am not gonna vow that I'll not fall completely in love with him, out of absolute terror that I'll break that one too.

Things just get so crazy, living life gets hard to do.

I don't know how much longer I can go on feeling like this. I don't know if I am happy, so I guess that has to mean that I'm not. I went out again last night, I seen him. I don't know how I feel, it's so difficult. A stupid and messy situation that could become so much easier as of last night, but I know it's not going to. Maybe it is just an excuse for both of us. My big brother keeping us apart, yet last night he left his job, they are no longer colleges. I suppose they'll be friends but not good friends - old friends. It is a little worrying to think what would have happened if we'd met under different circumstances, the compatibility is fierce. I hate that when I get drunk now I can not remember conversations. I know I had a good one last night but I just can't remember the words, or even the gist; purely the feeling of smugness and happiness that he often brings. My friend commented on how she found it uncomfortable to be in our presence, the sexual tension being too high, she felt like she shouldn't be there, even though we are standing in the busiest bar in town on a Saturday night and he is merely serving me a treble vodka and red bull. I know nothing will happen with us, I don't think I want anything to, I could never trust him, and I don't think that men like him are meant to be tamed. I'm out on Wednesday, and Wednesday nights bring bad news for us. We meet after he finishes work, he buys me vodka and orange and I complain that it makes me sick every time. Then we start kissing, then we stop, he'll dissapear for a while, kissing somebody else, no doubt, in the club with so many rooms. Then we'll sit in a room that has quickly become ours, have conversations that I never remember, kiss some more. Maybe I'll go back to his flat this time, I don't know, I haven't been out with him since I ended up there. Maybe it'll become an occurrence, maybe it was strictly a one off. I vow not to have sex with him. I just can't figure this whole thing out. He has become a real person in my life, someone who I feel I'll have to say a proper goodbye to when I move, though he is nothing. We have no reason to know each other, to spend any time together. I have met countless people in the exact same way, people I would call my friends and have done for years, yet I still don't have their phone numbers - I don't need them. I don't need his. But it was a big deal getting it, becoming friends on Facebook when for 6 weeks prior I had said I didn't want to be. When I write it out it is clear what is happening, we couldn't just let it go. The attraction was too strong, but we are old enough to know better and young enough to not really care. People have asked me "Is this really worth the relationship with your brother over?" I answer no, but I know that if it was something real then my brother would get over it. But this isn't real, it is pantomime and we love the dramatics, so for now, I am keeping my heart and mouth closed.

The magic feather! Now you can fly!

I have just returned from Disneyland Paris. The happiest place on earth. It did bring me happiness. Time with my two cousins, and time with my 4 year old niece. The most beautiful, care-free and funny child in the world. She drives me mad, but I can not explain my love for her. It is her face that I see when I really think about my move to Manchester, even though she has a younger sister and I have a further niece and nephew with whom I am just as close. Maybe it is because they are so young that I don't crave their company like Skye's.
I have had a lot of perspective. I think I decided for real that I was moving about a week ago, but I have just told people today, funny as that is when my final offer came through, the last thing I needed before I could officially make the decision. I took it as a positive sign, like so many things recently. I am thankful for a lot of things right now, my incredible family for one. My father who works so hard to provide everything I have ever wanted, my big brother who is my best friend, who would protect me from anyone or anything, and trusts no one when it comes to me. And my mother, my mam, the most perfect woman to walk the planet, I genuinely aspire to have her strength one day. Her stable marriage with my father, her relationships with her friends, her amazing maternal instincts. I am so lucky to have her. But most of all, right now, I am thankful for my grandparents, both of whom I lost last year. We are in the process of selling their home, we leave for good on the 1st of April. I suddenly become £50,000 richer. They have given me the push, and the finances to be able to go and do whatever I want next year, to live in the nicer apartment, and to go without any worries or cares. I would pay ten times that to have 10 more minutes with either one of them. Guiltily my grandmother more so, I wouldn't even have to say a word to her. I take great peace in knowing that the last thing that I ever said to her was 'I love you'. Because I did, I do. I miss her so much it is actually a physical ache some times. She was taken so quickly, but I am glad we got the short time we did knowing her fate. It allowed me to say what I wanted, it allowed me to lie in bed with her and hold her hand until we both fell asleep, it gave us time to laugh about things, cry about others, but we always held hands, held on to each other, comforting and knowing. I know my brother was the favourite of the two grandchildren she had. That was always ok with me, I was her only granddaughter and I know she loved me unconditionally and incredibly. Sometimes I forget that she won't be there for certain things, like my graduation, or my wedding, she would have so loved to see me get married and start a family and be a success. I know she was proud of me though, I know that she knew I would figure it out, I don't think she had the same reassurance with my brother, even though he has always figured it out and things always work out for him. But as I will soon have to go to the shell of their empty home I am thankful for one thing, that they were my grandparents. I love you, I miss you every day, I no longer fear death because I know that you are both up there, that gives me a lifetime of peace...thankyou.

You love me, you like her.

I'm depending on too many people for my happiness at the moment. I haven't, in years, just been on my own. No one to distract my attention, no one to fill my days or my thoughts. This is troubling me. I don't know if I could be on my own, if it is physically possible. There is always someone on my mind. That is really sad. I think I kid myself into thinking about someone, wanting someone, until somebody else comes along and we go through the process again. I think I am in love with the idea of being in love. Completely and inconsumably in love. Not what I have experienced, or really anybody who I have ever met. Maybe my grandparents, but I never really asked them how much they loved each other. It never seemed appropriate considering my Grandfather's condition from such a young age.
I see myself with someone, hilarious, warm, completely fills the room, passionate, strong in every sense of the word, impeccable manners, polite, sharp, adoring, fiercely loyal, impractically handsome with the smile of the Lords. People always say that they notice a persons eyes first, I never do, it is always the smile. I think somebodies smile says a lot about them at that moment. There are so many different types of smiles, and so many different smiles you learn as you grow to know a person. A smile can say so many things - I like you, I love you, I hate you, you're not funny, you're hilarious, this is awkward, you've surprised me, you're beautiful, I want to have sex with you, I want to make love to you, I want to kiss you, I want you to kiss me. I love the secrets behind smiles...but genuinely, for now, i just really need to learn to smile on my own.

I know you've been burned, but every fire is a lesson learned.

I guess I know I'm in trouble when I turn to music and writing again. The loneliness is bitter at the moment. My best friend has a new boyfriend, she has never had one before. She knows him because of my ex, something I can do nothing but resent, because I put them together. I'm angry at her happiness, I don't understand it. He isn't attractive, yet she is beautiful. The relationship seems forced, like she hasn't had it before and wants to know what it is that we're all talking about. But it is effecting her like it did us all, she is there constantly, she doesn't want to come out and fuck up her life with me anymore. She doesn't understand why I want to move to Manchester for university, and that enrages me. I have nothing here anymore. I always thought I'd be staying for Nick, that I couldn't bare to leave him for another life. Turns out I could leave him, and for no reason at all. I still feel so proud of myself when I remember my strength that day. Although it was the worst day, that is the best I have ever been. My thoughts are so scattered, clearly so are my words. There are a few on my mind, my ex, my best friend, the new kid, my rebound and always my grandmother followed quickly by my grandad. I always wonder what they would say if they could see me, I don't think they'd be annoyed, or even dissapointed. More worried, anxious, saddened. I can't sit still, I am constantly on the move, sometimes purely mentally. The alcohol slows my thoughts down, way down. I see the people I want to when I'm out. I see him. Pray that I can relive that night with him, I need a few more hours of conversation with him because I didn't find out everything that I wanted, or maybe I did, I just can't remember. You're not supposed to notice some things about people you've just met. I spent few nights with the rebound after Nick. The most handsome man I know. The love of my thirteen year old self, somebody so attractive he couldn't possibly walk down the street with every woman looking at him. Yet I could not tell you, for anything, what colour eyes he has. Yet this new guy, I remember his lashes, so thick, something woman all around the world pay good money for, something I paid £10 for that very day, and ruined that very night by sleeping in them. His weren't ruined, typically so. Some of us are just better than others. I smile when I think of this night, it was one of those imperfect messes that should never have happened, but you would not take it back, not ever. The alcohol filled the room, the warmth in the morning, the first sunny day in 2011, the clicking of toes and the sound of his phone warning him that it too needs recharging. I like this kid...and his eyes are a murky green, just like mine.

Do you see what we've done? We're gonna make such fools of ourselves.

It has been so long since I have been on here. I read back over the few posts I have posted. So in love and so naieve. I am lucky, I think I loved and I know I lost. 2 and a half years later and I finally said I was done. Said goodbye to my partner, my best friend, my safety net. My heart shattered even though it was my decision, I find that your own decisions are the hardest to deal with. I'm here now, barely breathing, barely standing, barely anything at all. I drink, a lot. 4 times a week. I sleep in strange places and thrive off the awkwardness in the morning. I have met someone, I don't understand him, but understand everything. He doesn't fool me, and I'm terrified that I don't fool him. I have gotten awfully good at playing this role. Confident verging on arrogant, carefree verging on careless, exciting verging on dangerous. I like that girl, she is so sure, she is beautiful at times, she is desirable and seductive. She isn't me, I am getting painfully needy, something I have never been. I love the chase, I am loving this chase, but the rules have changed and I'm scared that when all of this comes to a front its not just gonna be our relationship that it is affected. I am playing with fire and I'm desperate to be burned. I have been numbed by pain, its dull and unnoticeable now, but I know it's there, taunting me. He makes me smile, I don't know what it is. His painfully beautiful face. His hip bones that I just can't get enough of. His accent. His ability to make me feel immediately sexy, with last nights make up on, the ugliest t-shirt you have ever seen and tights. His strength...physically, so masculine, painfully so...that's the part that took my breath for a moment. But there are other things, the scarily similar past 6 months we have had, even though he has moved city and uprooted his whole life, something I haven't. Our terrible taste in power ballads. The way I genuinely can't help but smile the second I see him. I refuse to fall for this boy who everyone has warned me about, but I can't bare to get down from the ledge.