A Firebird’s Song

You thought I was cold
Didn’t you, unable to burn
Like a sparked-out fuse,
Ice-blue and unfeeling, thousand-year-old
Stardust that only hits your eyes
When your love’s been sold.

You thought I wouldn’t open,
That’s true, stark lines on ashes
When I had nothing to lose,
Thoughts on lips, shivers on hands frozen
To your wavering, silk-thin wings
As you flew me words unspoken.

You thought I was freeing
For you, a tick to pass the time, fire
Flickering out as soon as you blew
Out the sparkling light. But for me,
Standing unmoving, thawing heart a shade of wrong,
I could never quite stop seeing

The firelit need to belong-
Never touched you, your glowing eyes
A step away from the truth,
Oblivious as they whispered along
To the melody of another dance-
You made my love a burned-out song.


Sometimes, I pretend I’m cold inside. Sometimes, the people who burned me the most have made me shut down my emotions. Sometimes, I just can’t hold that in any more.
From Elm πŸ™‚

Side Character in My Own Story

I am the comma
In a sentence, the afterthought
To a word, trailing off in the middle and
Never the important sort
Of ellipses.

I’m the backing vocals
At the height of a crescendo, hope
In quiet harmony, unheard,
Falling down a slope
To lie, a discarded melody.

I am the old love interest,
Story-tired, something better ready to leap
Over my head, the readers
Never thinking how much it hurts to keep
Smiling, hiding, smiling…

I never finish the glorious tale of two
Who are happy without the underdeveloped character
With too many tears, whose chapter
Ends with a question mark.

I am the sorrow and muted horror
When love gives way to nothing-
The writer spirals somewhere different,
Pain too lonely, too boring,
But where’s that story arc for that?

The words write me,
Heartbreak created from an apostrophe-
I, a possession, owned by failure,
Vanishing into a sidestory
Of the story’s saviour.

From Elm πŸ™‚

A Note to a You I Knew

Sometimes, I don’t know how to talk about things. I’m doing this in the only way I can – I’m opening up, in a way, bit by bit. I’m sorry this doesn’t make much sense: it’s me expressing my thoughts after months of not understanding how. A little unpolished, wild and confusing, it’s basically me.


There’s a certain freedom in talking in circles, using flowery language to get my point across and in spinning around a point but never stating it plainly. However, doing that too much makes me feel trapped. When it comes to you, I’ve spun around too many points and I’m dizzy and lost and here I go again, using metaphors. I’ll state it as plainly as I possibly can. 1. This ‘note’ is to someone I don’t know how to talk about; 2. If they read this, they’ll forever think me tragic and 3. I care far too much about that.

I wrote this ‘note’ in pieces, paragraph by paragraph coming at different times. That’s kind of what happened when I processed that things wouldn’t ever be the same, when I admitted that I fucked up a tiny bit and also when I realised that there was no closure to be had with this. I waited for closure, holding on and on and my heart broke so hard that I couldn’t even think about it. When I realised I wouldn’t get to talk, that I’d essentially taped my own mouth shut, that you’d given me the tape and other people had held it there, I kind of collapsed. I only have the energy to be so desperately unhappy about it that all I can do is laugh.

On a train once, I thought about you and my heart thumped because I couldn’t wait to see you and to just talk. It made me smile. The last time I said “I love you” to a friend, my mind screeched back to the time I said it to you. I remember the laughter and the drifting away and the loneliness when I said the words, “All I want is for him to be happy and if he is, I will be too.” and “You are a very lucky person, you know.” Oh, and “Your happiness comes first, remember?” I wish I had been lying when I said all that and god knows if you even know I said those words.

It’s ridiculous how much it hurts. I sit alone and wonder why the hell I approached things how I did; then I wonder how you could do what you did and I realise that you had no idea what you did, then. Is it because I didn’t tell you? Probably. Is it because you wanted your own happiness and I dragged you back from that with my sad hopes? I don’t blame you for that because I should have done the same. I didn’t tell you what I felt when I should have; I didn’t present my tears and terror in the way I wanted and I broke down on someone that wasn’t you. I broke down on someone who held me and understood’ instinctively, what I needed and understood that when I couldn’t speak, it wasn’t because I didn’t want to. It was because I didn’t know how.

I seem to mess things up a lot now. I talk to people too much, send messages when most likely, people you know are whispering and laughing about me and telling you you’re better off without that stupid bitch. Would they be right? Is my self-esteem so low that I’d consider myself an obsessive, clingy, awful person? I think about how I am when I act myself, like with you and the people I’m as close to as I was to you and I laugh because it’s so different to how I feel at this present moment.

“No wonder they don’t care about you any more because you have no sense of who you are,” I tell myself. Then I flinch because I don’t know if it’s just me being paranoid. I run after feelings, desperately searching for happiness and it usually ends with me shoving my own happiness to the back of my head because if I took the chance, I’d be selfish. It’s little wonder that I break down and push my identity so far away to try, and fail, to help others. It’s not healthy and the times I’m happy are the times I help others whilst also being secure in who I am. With no closure, no nothing, I haven’t been able to do that.

People have said that I get and got too involved, that I did something to try and prevent everything from turning out how it was. Yes, I got too involved and I shredded my heart like it was easy. What else could I do but try and when the trying failed, I forced myself to get rid of bitterness. I questioned why I hadn’t been open, why I hadn’t said anything and if I had, I would have been happier. But if I had done something to stop it, it wouldn’t just be me that was unhappy and if you know a single thing about me, you know that I try to put people’s happiness above my own as a form of coping. When I don’t know how to do that and I break because of it, I self-destruct.

I’ve tried to shut it out. I’ve tried to stop myself from wincing every single time I say the words “I love you”, even as a joke. I’ve tried so fucking hard to not care, to become unfeeling, to just accept that this is how it is and that I lost out. Sadly, I can’t. Not yet. I’ll get there, sometime, and that’s what I hold onto.

If you’d like me to be honest, I’ll say that I don’t know how to fix this and that in even speaking about you, I’m misjudging who you are. I don’t know what you think of me; I don’t know what I think of myself; I don’t know how to not break whenever I think about you and about how much you cared for me. I’ll have to face it one day but now? Sorting through all the memories, all the confused emotions and “why’s” and “Is it my fault?”s is too much. It doesn’t stop how I feel, though. You can shut a box but you can’t get rid of what’s inside the box if you can’t open it.

If you’re thinking, “This is disjointed,” you’d be right. I didn’t plan this. Every single thought I express right now is one I want to say to you, in huge detail, on and on until you get sick of me and tell me you hate me. If you think, “She’s got no answers,” you’d also be right because there are 1000 questions going round my head and only one answer. That answer is simple: “I don’t know.”

I’m still here, heart still beating, still feeling and living and breathing. I’m the same Elm, like you were the same you. I lie to protect myself sometimes and when people are unhappy, I rush to help others without considering that they might want to help me too. I can no longer think of a city without thinking of dances and heartbreak, gripping a hand so hard it hurt and sitting on the stairs, alone, because I didn’t know what to do.

You won’t read a word of this and if you do, I want you to remember that I’m not angry. In any of it, I was never angry. I was just hurt because I feel as if I have no identity and no way of expressing any of my feelings. I feel as if the ability to speak my mind has been taken away from me in this situation, which has made my ability to speak about anything difficult.

There’s no one to help me reconnect to you but you. I think I’ll just have to help myself.

Love from Elm πŸ™‚

Things I Miss About Love

I miss the little things. Interlacing fingers, or the memory of them; I miss waking up in the morning and smiling at the knowledge that feelings were okay and that if nothing came of it, at least I would be. Talking until late, laughing and seeing a name on my phone without being afraid that the name hates me. Simply put – I miss it feeling okay that I love someone.

I miss the leaping spark in my heart, catching with the wind and flittering until it grew stronger. The fire burned like it was meant to burn, red and orange flames coiling around my happiness. I miss the warmth, not shaking uncontrollably when I said the words “I love you” because the fire and little sparks felt like a friend. I don’t understand how to be friends with the fire any more.

I miss feeling whole, the solidity of a presence and the surety of feelings completing my heart in a way it hadn’t been in such a long time. Like sand on a beach, it’s sifting through my fingers; I miss wave upon wave of “this is real, the truth – this is how I feel!” crashing over me. I’m prone to fancies and running but that time, I didn’t chase after an empty hope in a heart-shaped box. I miss not feeling frayed, whether it’s because I was in love or because now I feel unhappy all the time I don’t know. I miss feeling like the connection from heart to love was a lasting thing, a silk-red ribbon braided up like it was meant to be twisted.

I miss feeling truly right within myself or right around someone else, suspended in a moment without panic. “The moment between breaths,” I call it, the quiet contentment that this was correct and that I was not misplaced and not an “other”. I miss laughing with the person whose feelings mirrored mine, twin smiles on different faces and, for one second, a shared happiness. Now, with the love gone it would have been bearable but with the heart broken, it feels so suffocatingly wrong.

I miss songs playing and associating them with happy memories, sweeps of violin and voice coupling in a dance. It seems as if songs hold a crushing weight, not delicate like the way you spoke to me or straightforward, like I’d like to be to you, if I can. It has a double meaning, marinated in lies and love and sadness for 3 weeks until the melodies set themselves on fire.

⠠⠊ miss my insecurities about my body not mattering for a while. I miss feeling as if I were confident in one way – although love could never wipe away my mind like love was a “healer” – but I miss remembering that at one time, my feelings were returned. I miss being enough for just one person, not feeling attention-seeking and being justified in my feelings.

I miss counting the days since a beautiful time happened – 4 weeks since I felt “I love you”, 9 weeks since my heart broke, 2 weeks since my hopes got lost and 1 week since I cried. I miss imagining counting the stars and it not hurting, as if something so infinite as a star would care.

I can’t wait until I no longer miss these things. When you feel like you’re breaking from missing someone, when they have no idea, it’s so hard to remember that one day, it won’t hurt so much. One day, I’ll stop missing feeling like I can think of things without something welling up inside me.

I’ll fall in love again and I’ll miss it again and it’ll be okay. I just have to get there. Can I do that?

I don’t know any more.

From Elm πŸ™‚

Something like Love

This is just a rambling post, written by someone who’s had little sleep and feels mildly ill. However, I think that this state can produce the best kind of content (or what my version or “content” is at least).

Recently, I told a good friend that I loved them.

“You know I love you, right? Not like that but I still love you.” It was the most truthful thing I’d said in weeks, something I meant with everything I had and it terrified me more than anything. It left me feeling free, like a weight I didn’t even know existed had been lifted. Even so, it took a lot out of me, expressing what I felt so plainly.

When I said “love”, I meant that I loved them as a friend – in a platonic sense. Now, I don’t feel as if I have the capacity to love romantically; I feel so torn up and tired by myself that the thought of someone else, like that, makes me so weary that I have no energy left. But this was easier. Somehow, telling someone that I loved them in friendship made me more giddy than if I had told someone that I loved them in any other sense.

I think that my friend took in what I said to him and it’s given me so much courage. I’m always afraid to tell people how I feel, even in a platonic sense like that but I think it can be really good for you. Not only does it show you that you can be open with people but it also lets your friends know that you appreciate them a hell of a lot. Everyone needs to be told how much they mean to another person once in a while – even me with my stone cold heart. I took that step and yes, it’s a small one but it helped both of us to understand each other more.

Love comes in so many different forms that it can be hard to distinguish between them. Sometimes it’s not as clear-cut as saying a simple “I love you,” but saying those three words can somehow convey all of that. Maybe that only makes sense to me but it’s as if the emotion in your voice can display that entangled yet simplistic emotion. To me, they have power: it’s how you say it, how you can prove to someone that you care about them. I still have that fear of screwing up how I’ll say things but telling someone I loved them is the first step to conquering that fear. I want to continue doing it so that the next time I tell someone how I feel about them, I don’t get that terrified leap in my chest because previously, those words had scared me beyond belief.

When you feel like it, tell one of your friends that you love them. It can be for something they’ve done or just because they’re a great person. Even if you’re scared, the good thing about friends is that they’ll understand in which way you mean it. There’s little danger of them shoving you away or telling you, “I don’t feel the same way.” That’s why this kind of love doesn’t panic me so much.

Friends stay with you; I know this even for how paranoid I get. They are beautiful and the love I feel for my friends isn’t tainted by terror or the thought that they could never love me back. They do. That’s one of the things of which I’m certain.

To all of you, you mean so much to me. I’d happily tell you I care about you because you listen, take in my words and then you make something of them. The content that people in the blogging world create is wonderful because it’s so incredibly diverse and that’s another reason why I care about the people who’s posts I read.

Remember: love doesn’t always have to be about romance. It’s scary to tell a friend that you love them but if you do, you’re just expressing your friendship. That’s beautiful and you aren’t being overly-emotional. You can love a friend just as much as you love anyone else.

Love is still love, no matter what form it takes.

From Elm πŸ™‚

Why Telling the Truth is Good

When you’re in a difficult situation, where your brain convinces you to lie to someone because you think it’ll hurt less (it doesn’t) and because you’re scared of them thinking worse of you, telling the truth after that can be extremely tricky. It can hurt both yourself and others but there are a lot of positives to doing it and getting over your fear. On Wednesday, I told two of my best friends the entire truth about a situation that I had experienced three months ago or so and though I sobbed like a child in the nearly deserted common room, it was worth it and it needed to be done.

Upon explaining everything, both to them and another friend before, I came to rather, lise that I’ve been lying to the point where it’s damaged relationships. Telling the truth may be hard but it’s necessary for you to feel happy. If you’re struggling over telling someone something, I want to explain some of the positives to you.

It strengthens relationships
Admitting you lied to someone is really nervewracking and they may be annoyed at you for it. I’ve certainly experienced that but what I found, above all on Wednesday, was that people much prefer it when you tell them the truth. If you’re honest and tell them how much you fucked up, it shows them that you trust them. Trust may be broken at first because they may believe that you didn’t trust them enough to tell them the truth in the first place but when you admit that to them, it can add a level of understanding to your friendships. I won’t lie: it could go the other way but the gamble of honesty is worth it.

Things aren’t so complex
Not only does lying upset other people but it can leave your head in a mess as you try and remember who knows what; it’s a horrible state to be in because you can end up manipulating people. It is only natural, therefore, that you should remove those feelings as soon as possible. One of the easiest ways to do that is to tell as many people the truth as you can who you’ve lied to; it clears it up, lets people in on how you’re feeling and makes your head less cluttered. People have asked me why I’ve been feeling so awful but I haven’t been able to explain it properly until I told Wren and Red everything that went on. The simple act of explaining it caused my mind to relax a little from the painful twisting state it had been in; the first person I truly told[q~@]- who I’d lied to – started that relieving; my other friends carried it on.

You feel happier and less awful
Guilt is a central part to lying and it’s one of the worst consequences of doing something horrible. By owning up to it and telling someone, it doesn’t weigh as heavy: it’s still there, especially because of the disappointment that is (rightfully) displayed at how you lied, but at least some of it goes away. You also feel happier because for me, a weight was lifted off my shoulders. I didn’t have to hide or pretend and if I hadn’t told the truth, I would have fallen apart. I was already doing that and it took me explaining shit for me to understand just how bad it was.

You can show people you’re able to move forward
If you’ve got your own thoughts for company, wherein only you know how you’ve been feeling or what you’ve been doing, it means you can’t move on. If you’re good at sorting out your own feelings then it’s okay but if you’re like me, the thoughts spin round and round in your head with no resolution. It hurts and does me no good. On the contrary, sharing things with other people helped me to face up to it and understand what I’d done; it really allows you to move on from the situation by forcing the results of it to become apparent to you.

You can understand who your true friends are
Lying is only an okay thing when it will have no consequences for anyone. When it does and you then tell someone the truth, it’s natural and understandable that they’ll be upset with you. In fact, I’d want people to be angry with me for misjudging their personality enough to lie to them. It absolutely wasn’t fair of me to do that. However, when I told Wren and Red, they explained that they still loved me, always have and always would and that this wouldn’t change that. I figured out that the people who are my real friends, who – whether sensible or not – would stick by me are the ones that can see the reasons why I lied and let me make up for it, as well as move forward. Some things are unforgivable and I don’t blame people for being upset with me because I would be but I know that if such trust is lost by lying, perhaps it would be best that the person distanced themselves from me.

You aren’t superhuman. You’re going to make mistakes, lie and upset people. It’s alright to do that. However, as terrifying as it is, telling the truth can make things a lot easier. Not in all cases but in a lot of them, honesty can be the best solution.

If you’re hurting right now and don’t understand why someone did what they did, think about it from their perspective. That can apply to those who lied and those who are angry because you lied. There are always more than two sides to a story.

From Elm πŸ™‚

I Thought that My Love Life was Over

So far, school has been rather uneventful in the two days that I’ve been back, save for me internally freaking out about coursework and stressing at things that aren’t even important. However, there is a far more pressing problem besides the prospect of unmanageable work. That is, I appear to actually possess feelings.

How my mind works is that there are certain people which my brain tells me, “Okay, they’re nice; you could have feelings for them – but don’t; that’s a terrible idea!” A girl who joined my school this year, who I used to share my French class with, is one such person. I call her Laurel on this blog and you can read more about her here. I feel like a total creep for writing this and knowing my luck, she’ll end up finding it and I’ll be mortified for the rest of my days.

Yesterday, I spoke to her for the first time, properly in person, for about a month. Because of exams which meant that I was only in school to do them for two weeks and then I had two weeks off, I couldn’t have seen her for that length of time and before that, I hadn’t spoken to her in ages. Not being with Pine’s “group” a lot, I don’t often have the chance to meet her unless I go and sit with them at break. She’d been on my mind a lot lately. It wasn’t in a romantic sense really but I was more contemplating the decision that I’d made to drop French, as well as how much I missed those in my class even if I could see them outside of it.

I got into school, walked towards my first class of the day and genuinely didn’t realise it was her speaking to me, at first. Being greeted is a common thing but it was loud; I couldn’t hear much and I think I must have been tired. We were standing a little ways apart; I didn’t pay much attention to my surroundings. My friends Wren and Swan were being themselves, saying inside jokes to me whilst walking off and that was when I knew that Laurel stood in front of me and I was a total moron because I think that I smiled really strangely. Now I think about it, that was so awkward.

We didn’t talk about much. The subject was mainly exams and before I had known it was her (how the hell did I not know?!) she hugged me and I felt really happy because I felt like she really meant it. I was cringing so hard when I clocked that it was her that I tried to, erm, make up for it, or that was how my mind justified it. Upon her saying that she would fail, I utterly disagreed with her and I hugged her again, touching her hands once or twice to prove my point. As I never usually initiate such physical contact with those that aren’t my very close friends, it was almost a shock to my own internal systems to note that I was doing this with very little fear.

I’m confused. Over the last few months, I convinced myself that those fledgling feelings had been stamped out. I didn’t need complications like that, especially when I was attempting to viciously deny other, much stronger feelings that had emerged for a different person. Neither approach worked. Now, it looks as if I’m in the same predicament as before: uncertain as to what I want, who I think about and what I want to do with those feelings.

I usually know how I act around those who I have feelings for but then I refuse to acknowledge that. It might not be apparent to anyone else except me but I think differently, pay much closer attention to everything and am more likely to remember how I felt in that exact moment. As much as I’ve tried to stop this, I don’t think I can. Once my thoughts go down a trajectory of weird and inconvenient feelings, they don’t stop until I a) realise it’s pointless; b) something unpleasant happens or c) I move onto someone else. I’m hoping it’s option C, honestly.

My feelings, or what’s left of them, for Laurel can’t be overstated. Yes, I think she’s wonderful and I feel entirely too comfortable around her but there still remains the problem of the ‘other person’. I won’t use Laurel as some kind of rebound because that would upset me; I don’t know her well enough to know what it would do to her.

All in all, I know a few things:
β€’ I have small feelings for her
β€’ They won’t go anywhere because I have about as much luck or good decision-making as a single-celled organism
β€’ I’m hopelessly confused because feelings EW NO GO AWAY
β€’ There are ‘other people’ who I have similar reactions to which makes things needlessly complex
β€’ If you try and ignore a problem or put your fingers in your ears whilst screaming ‘la la laaaaa’, it doesn’t go away
β€’ HELP ME I don’t need this in my life!

Are you going through something similar right now? How do you feel? I kind of feel like running and hiding next time I’m near her because feelings are scary. I haven’t felt this way, so carefree with it, in at least a year.

From Elm πŸ™‚

The Problem with Showing People your Blog

As of yesterday, Ivy – one of my best friends – is the only person, besides myself, who knows pretty much everything that has happened over the last year. I spent the afternoon with her in the park, talking, laughing and us both getting embarrassed and morbidly fascinated about the situations that have both happened to us. Having not seen her for about 6 months, we caught up on everything and I told all of the things I had told other people but unlike other people, she was told all of it without me dancing around the subjects.

There are many upsides to showing people in real life your blog, especially when – like me – you talk about your personal feelings and life. One of them is that people get to know you better and understand you; another is that you can show them a big part of your life and another is to show that you trust them with how you feel. However, even if the positives far outweigh the negatives, there is something unavoidable that can happen. You can’t always tell the truth.

Some things I’ve desperately wanted to talk about and others would have been nice to just post a little about. It’s not that I don’t trust my friends: I do more than anything in the world, but there are some subjects I just can’t talk about with some friends and others I can’t talk about with other groups, mainly because I don’t feel comfortable discussing certain things and also because if I did, I’d get other people involved which could escalate the situation. The issue here is that people from different parts of my life read my blog – the VI community, very close friends at school, people I’ve been in relationships with – and I respect them all but not all of them know enough for me to post about it. If I did post about what I really want to post about, it would maybe upset people who still mean a lot to me and I don’t want that. I’m half protecting my own selfish skin and half stopping others from getting needlessly angry at each other… Bloody hell, this is complicated and I can’t even say it plainly!

For me, my blog is a place to let out my emotions. Not being able to let them out has probably caused me to shut down a little, meaning I don’t tell people what I’d want to say on my blog – now I think about it, that’s stupid, because surely if I couldn’t post it then telling people would be a good way to get advice? My mind is completely illogical sometimes. I think that because I don’t have this outlet as much as I’d want to, I subconsciously just refused to open up to the people who I know would listen, e.g my friends and all of you.

It’s not that I’m scared of what my readers would say. It’s because I’m scared of the judgement I’d get from people who I know shouldn’t judge me but would; I’m absolutely terrified of fucking up again and so I just don’t tell people what, maybe, it would be sensible to say. That makes me sad but it’s what comes with showing something I’m really proud of to my group of friends who couldn’t be more supportive but would they be supportive if I told them everything? I hope so but I don’t know if I can take that risk.

Even now, I feel awful for writing this. My legendary “paranoia” is telling me that when people I know read this, they’ll think I hate them and then will start hating me. I never said it was logical but now I’m worried that I’m going to upset someone.

Often, I tell those who’s blogs I read to post what they want to post because it’s their blog and that still rings true. I wish I could take my own advice because sometimes I feel trapped, not because I’ve done anything necessarily bad but because I know, if I had posted honestly about what happened from the beginning, from last May to now, things might have been easier and I might have made a lot of different decisions based on your amazing advice. Who knows, though? The decisions I made felt (mostly) right at the time.

The only times I post about things that may be considered “sensitive” are when I get permission from someone who might read it because that’s just polite and also when all the people reading it in real life know about it because if it was a big thing, which it often would be, I would have told them straight away. An example of that is what happened in October but even then I felt guilty. All of my friends knew but the post itself was so hard to write because I had to get the balance of revealing information and not accidentally making people irritated right, which I wish I didn’t have to do.

I think, after this, I need to start being a little bit more honest. Perhaps I should start explaining to my friends what’s been happening but that would involve me straight-up telling them I lied to them, something I’m uncomfortable with doing. On the other hand, I caused this and so it’s only right I make it better by actually telling the truth and not worrying about judgement.

Remember that your blog is your own and you should only tell people – if your blog’s a place for you to get your thoughts out – if you feel comfortable with them knowing everything. I don’t want you guys to be in a situation where you end up twisting the truth because you feel like you have no other option. I won’t defend myself because it was a shitty thing for me to do, along with a bunch of other things but now it’s all done, there’s no changing it or going back so I have to deal with those consequences.

I don’t regret telling people about my blog or showing it to them. What does make me sad is how that all turned into me avoiding telling people the truth, which meant I physically couldn’t post about it. However, like I say to people all the time, this is my outlet and I shouldn’t be controlled by what others think.

Have you told a lot of people about your blog and what kind of positives, or problems, has that brought you?

From Elm πŸ™‚

I’m Scared Of Losing My Virginity

In the traditional sense of the word, I am a virgin.

I’m not ashamed to say it; I don’t want to hide the fact and I’m perfectly willing to be open about it. You may wonder why I would write a post on this topic if the fact of it doesn’t bother me so much. It’s simple: I’m scared of the idea of “losing” it.

I’ve spoken about sex with my friends before: S recently because he’s listened to my ramblings about the subject, Robin on holiday and at Christmas (she’s been my main source of information and I love her for it), Rapunzel, Wren and Red but there are few people who have heard me plainly say that the thought of having sex for the first time, of losing my virginity if you will, scares the living shit out of me. With friends and with advice, I’ll be as open as I like and I’m not afraid to talk about that kind of thing but the reality is, I have no clue what I’m doing. It’s time I truly admit to myself that I’m nervous of it and that it’s okay to be.

Searching for articles online, watching videos from Youtube and talking to people about my worries has helped me to figure it out but it still doesn’t make sense. I don’t really care about the pain: it doesn’t necessarily have to hurt. I’m only mildly paranoid about pregnancy because I’m aware of birth control – have a look at this if you’re unsure. With the practicalities, I’m not too fussed: you can get good advice with that and also, I know that it – of course – won’t be perfect the first time. Nothing ever is, usually, and that’s okay.

However, the absolute terror comes from my emotions. Or rather, the messed-up confusion that they’ve become. I don’t understand it: what I want, what I’d be comfortable with and who I’d be comfortable doing things with but I’ll have a go at explaining it. I’m so glad I have this platform to express this kind of thing.

Recently or maybe since October, I haven’t trusted anyone really with the idea of physical intimacy. Even now, when I’m over the situations that have happened to me, I have a wariness I can’t shake. Whether I’m in a relationship or not, I feel like to “lose” my virginity, I’d have to trust the person a lot. That trust would be in the sense of being fine around them if something went “wrong”, being able to tell them I didn’t want to do something or trusting them enough that they wouldn’t tell people what happened if I didn’t want them to. They would also have to know me quite well because I have a few personality traits, like paranoia over very very small things, that they’d have to understand to get why I might be scared. With this kind of thing – that goes for physical and emotional relationships – it’s so important to communicate well with the person or people you’re involved with. If they don’t know how you feel, then you could wind up being scared of something and not being able to tell them or they wouldn’t understand.

To gain that trust would take a while for me; I’d be too nervous and would question everything they thought of me because I’m that sort of person. Just to say: if you find that you don’t have to trust the person then that’s completely fine: everyone has their own expectations and thoughts about sex or not having sex. Personally, the idea of letting someone in enough for me to feel comfortable in my body around me makes me scared simply because when I become capable of that, I won’t be able to rush into things which may prolong the nerves. Previously, I rushed into things a lot so I’m almost “used” to that feeling but I need to remember that not everything is about getting Experiences; sometimes, you have to take a step back to examine and figure out your feelings before you do anything.

As of yet, I haven’t been treated like a child for being a virgin except by one person and they don’t count because they treated me like a child in a lot of respects. I’m not necessarily worried about what age I “lose” it: I’m 17 now and as much as some days I’d like to have that experience now so I know what it’s like, building up that trust first is important because if I didn’t, I would feel sick with myself afterwards and I never ever want to feel like that again. I know I would be safe; it’s not about that: it’s about how I may react after.

Often, I call myself “prickly” or “worried” as a general rule. I’m able to get close to people but unlike before, it doesn’t come easily and I don’t always trust that they would actually be there for me. In terms of virginity, leading up to it or after, I have a feeling that I may then block everything out out of fear. This is why I need to have that trust so that if that happens, the person – whatever gender they happen to be – will understand.

Basically, it’s all about trust. I’m scared of myself, of people’s reactions and of that trust disappearing. I don’t know if I would be able to tell one singular person everything that has happened for fear of being judged but I suppose people don’t need to know everything because no one does currently apart from, I think, myself. I know that I will find that person but it’ll take time, time I don’t know how to invest properly.

Whenever I think about the act itself, I get really nervous because of this. I laugh when anyone suggests it because I find it hilarious but beneath that, there’s a lingering terror that it’ll never happen or when it does, I’ll feel wrong or I’ll do something stupid. I suppose, though, that it won’t go perfectly right but that just means that I have something to compare other experiences to. It’s okay for things not to go perfectly. I need to remember that.

How do you feel about losing your virginity if you haven’t, or how did you feel when you lost it? I’m not asking you to comment if you’re not comfortable because this can be a very Personal topic to some people. Just think about it and if you ever need to talk about anything, like your fears and worries, you can email me. I may not be able to necessarily help but I’ll always listen and do my best to give you advice.

Don’t be worried about talking about this. Originally I was scared of posting this because I thought it’d be too mature but for those interested in having sex, this can be an important topic and for those not, it can be interesting to read about. If you want to lose it then that’s fine; if you don’t, it’s also fine. What you feel is personal to you because it’s your and no one should control it, or your emotions, but you.

From Elm πŸ™‚

Feelings are Gross

I rather intensely dislike it when my brain decides to tell me, in no uncertain terms – “Heyy! There are these two people and you like them both but here’s the bad news – you like one more than the other but either will end in disaster! Let’s go and have a party to celebrate!”

After said brain freezes in shock for about a year because I haven’t had proper “feelings” for someone for ages, it then throws itself a pity party. That involves cynical laughter, creating lists as to why my feelings are a terrible idea and then eventually giving up and screaming in frustration. I’m surprised I haven’t imploded yet.

Here is my predicament. Because of people who know the people reading my blog, I can’t mention specifics. Let’s call them person 1 and 2, just to be original.

Upon realising that I had actual, un-pretend but otherwise stupid feelings for person 1, I may or may not have freaked out. This person doesn’t go to my school – which is important when we get to person 2 but shhh – and we know each other kind of well? There are a few bits of our personalities which really don’t fit together and which we don’t understand but still, the person makes me happy and I don’t have to pretend around them. Having feelings is so… Weird, now.

This is all great. The only problem is that feelings for this person would result in absolute disaster or decimation of my entire personality. Hello yes, I’m being dramatic because I’m a self-professed drama queen but I know that if anybody found out the person who I’m talking about – including 1 themselves – the following may happen:
1. They would laugh until they had tears rolling down their face because it seems so ridiculous
2. My friends would try and convince me that they “fancied” me which would raise my hopes, making it even worse when I realised that they don’t. At all.
3. Being in a relationship with them would just be… No.
4. I’m a clingy child and if I made this “real” by telling loads of people, I’d become worse
5. My feelings for them are relatively solid and that scares me shitless
6. Living in the moment only works when there’s an actual moment to live in, as opposed to a dream

Person 2 has existed in my “like” capacity (that’s apparently a thing now) since the start of this school year. I suppose, actually, it’s ever since I’ve known them – there’s something about them that makes me want to know so much about them. It’s similar to person 1 but with person 2, I really don’t know a lot about their personality, only the superficial things. They go to my school, though, and so it would be easy to find out. They also take me seriously and usually I don’t have to try around them.

On the surface, that’s much more positive than with person 1 and I know it. However, I know that my feelings for 2 are shallower than for 1: 2 hasn’t known me for long enough to understand certain parts of who I am; we’ve never shared a truly deep conversation; I’ve never met up with them outside school whereas with 1, I would never meet them in school.

I know that I can and should put effort in and let 2 understand me more – “let them in, to use a cheesy and clichΓ© phrase – but I don’t know if I’m up for that. I’m too exhausted and worried and paranoid; before, when I thought I had feelings for 2, I realised it was a rebound and me just shoving feelings onto them. I have a horrible feeling that this is the same.

Only time will tell what will happen: maybe I will get closer with 2 and meet up with them on weekends, actually getting to know them. I don’t want to forget 1 or drift away from them though because 1 has always meant more to me than 2. I know that friends fade, feelings dim and people grow apart but seeming as I’ve only realised I had feelings for 1 recently, I want to wait and see how they grow. There’s also 2 to contend with though and my mind isn’t up for juggling another set of worries. Bloody, bloody hell.

Why does my brain like to cavort around with love triangles? It would be funny if my brain weren’t so confused. I’ll just see where life takes me – and try not to panic.

Do you have this a lot – do you feel indecisive about your feelings?

From Elm πŸ™‚