The “Piano Man” Incident and Other Fun Festivities

So there was this hilarious time, 2 or 3 years ago, that I got a crush on someone for 1 day, simply because I liked the way they played piano in our end of year assembly.

I wish I was joking. I’ve mentioned it in passing a few times before, but today it resurfaced – no, not on the same boy (though he is in my psychology class and a family friend of Red who, when he found out, laughed so hard he couldn’t breathe). In fact, it was on Laurel: the girl I sit next to in French, who I have a somewhat… “Admiration” or “fascination” for. It sounds creepy I know, but it’s increased over the last two days, perhaps because I feel starved of affection again or because I’m lonely: I don’t know.

Before I start warbling on about my “love life”, or lack of one, I want to focus on what – to me – was more important today. Because today was our last day and was filled with deep thoughts from me, laughter with my friends, too much chocolate to count and plenty of hugs. I got my nails painted with this snowflake nail polish and was far too loud in screaming about how I’d ruined it. It only hits you, that when you won’t see your friends for two weeks, how much you actually love them.

I mostly stayed with Wren at break and in assembly. We were in the hall for over an hour, and at one point I was in pain because I had to sit on the floor for ages, and we were howling about our misfortune. In among them, I won three “achievement awards” which were just commendations, and in the silence of the hall I burst out laughing and muttered, “WHAT? That’s so funny!” It was embarrassing, now I look back on it.

And then, Piano Man Incident 2.0 happened – or should I say, Cello Woman Incident? A girl had sung, and was amazing because her voice was beautiful, and after that Laurel was the next “musical item” as they phrased it. I’d been absolutely terrified ever since I found out that she was playing and I was scared that a reoccurrence of the PM incident would happen, and by that I mean I was told this morning. Ever since we hugged yesterday after French, which brought together all of the frustration and worry we felt about the subject, I hadn’t been able to get a messed up curiosity out of my mind, which resulted in me worrying about how I’d react to her cello-playing. She really seemed to need me yesterday, to appreciate how I spoke to her, but was that because I was me or because I was just there?

Okay, I’ll be honest: I’m well aware I sound like a creep. But music has always been something I loved, and it’s like you seeing a face and thinking “There’s something about them, some feature, and it’s amazing”. Something about music or the way people play instruments can “draw” me to them, and that’s almost what happened with Laurel: almost, but not quite.

When she played, I felt like I was entirely focused on that. Of course, other thoughts were going through my mind, like the rhythm of the music and the notes, but it was like I was fascinated by the way she played. However, it wasn’t like with PM, because I wasn’t fixated: it was more like an intense pride, or awe. I loved it, but it wasn’t all-consuming; I don’t know what to think.

My thoughts are a little jumbled right now. I know that I don’t have a “crush” on her, because I’m still sad and my mental health is royally terrible right now in that department. On the other hand, I’m well aware it could develop, but I’m refusing to let myself think about that because:
1. I don’t know her that well
2. I can’t ruin anything, not when it’s so new
3. If I get “involved”, I’d either hurt her or I’d get hurt
4. I have no idea what I’d want with her and I’m not willing to take that chance
5. I still have a rather skewed and not altogether innocent curiosity about the boy I talk about in this post. It won’t amount to anything (though who knows) and I’m screaming at myself for thinking about him because that’s fucked up on so many levels, but whilst that’s in my head, I can’t and won’t have the energy to develop feelings for Laurel without creating a whole lot of confusion.

Over the Christmas holidays, I’m going to seriously think about how I feel. On top of my stress, I don’t need romantic complications to upset me, but sometimes I can’t help it. My reaction to her cello playing was predictable for me, especially because I anticipated it, but luckily it wasn’t as much as I thought it would be. It wasn’t what I thought it would be. Afterwards, with Wren, I mused that it wasn’t as extreme as with PM (though that was when I was about 14).

In other news, we decorated the tree yesterday properly, and I have an interview on the phone in a few minutes. I’ll use the festive days and cold to get over this ridiculous not-even-infatuation.

Then again, when has me saying that ever worked?

From Elm πŸ™‚

A Myriad of Possibilities

I have got myself into a few situations, and got myself mixed up with a lot of weird feelings, that some may call unwise. Others may say, “Elm, you are a fucking moron,” and they’d be right. I am absolutely exasperated with myself but I’ll also half-laughing because this is precisely the kind of thing I usually do. Sigh.

To cut a long story short: I wrote a post a few days ago which pretty much said that I didn’t want to get involved romantically with anyone for a long time. That still applies because I feel unbelievably sick when I think of feelings, but because I’m undoubtedly stupid, I may or may not have started to think that possibilities – in terms of physical ones – is a good idea. Oh my GOD, what am I doing???

There is a girl in my french class, who I’ve talked about in quite a few posts – most notably this one. I’ll give her a name now, simply because I can tell that whatever happens, she’ll be important to my life – perhaps Laurel would fit. She always fascinated me, in a strange sort of way, maybe because she’s knew but maybe because she plays the cello, sings, swims, talks to me like I’m interesting, and jumped into the life of french and friends and laughter with more enthusiasm than I ever could.

Last night, I went to Pine’s party – a girl who I’ve been friends with for 5 years. There, I had the most amazing time, watching a film (which was described to me) and laughing with everyone. Swan was there, and she and I had beautiful conversations; she’s such an amazing friend and I think we got closer that evening. Both she, another new girl and I had talks about philosophy, society and people, which meant we missed about 15 minutes of the film, but god it was worth it. After the film was finished, we playg Never Have I Ever, and it was then that my fascination came to the forefront of my mind.

“Never have I ever dated a girl,” someone said, and Swan and I put one of our fingers down. I’m not sure why but I was being very open with my sexuality, so much so that it was pissing me off; it was like I was trying to prove something to someone, to show them “HEY! I like girls too, do you, okay cool!” which, looking back, made me look like an over-eager idiot. This “fascination” with Laurel, coupled with the fact that my current emotions in terms of love/affection make me want to sob, meant that I was putting myself out there more than I felt comfortable with.

She came over to sit by us, once a few people had gone home. I irritated myself in how I was almost magnetised towards her, because my head was so confused and frustrated; as our game progressed and the laughter swelled, I remember feeling this fog, detachment, as if Laurel was unlucky for being the source of my not-even-attraction. Close with Pine, and Swan besides, it wasn’t as if I felt “starved”, but I absolutely refused to think of the possibility that she could be a possibility as I assumed she was straight.

Pine: “Never have I accidentally licked someone.”
Me: “Ermmmm we do NOT talk about that!” (Not that Pine knew what I was referring to)
Laurel: “Well, I’ve never accidentally done that. I mean I’ve french-kissed and that – oooh actually, I’ve kissed more girls than boys.”

I went a bit funny, then. It felt good, that she’d openly admitted she liked girls, because it shows that people are becoming so much less guarded about it and that’s great. Also, and to my annoyance, a seedling of possibility started to grow, and I wanted to kick myself for it. I know barely anything about Laurel, though I admire her, and know her so much more than some people I’ve known since year 7. Still, that doesn’t warrant any kind of screwed up ‘affection’ for her to happen, especially because I’m still so miserable.

When I asked, she told me that she’d never gone out with anyone, but that she’d kissed plenty of people including friends. Something I’d been meaning to say just came out then: “Kissing doesn’t have to be necessarily romantic,” and she agreed. Talking to her was refreshing, and I eventually slid rebelliously onto the floor. Maybe that’s a way for people to notice me, so I should stop doing it; I don’t know what I was trying to achieve, but now it makes me cringe because I think I must have made her uncomfortable with my weird behaviour.

I’m naturally a curious person; I always have been. Though I flat-out don’t want romantic feelings to develop, I was thrilled by the thought of kissing her, or of getting physically close in a platonic way to her. Is that weird? When I spoke to Swan and another girl afterwards, Ow reiterated:
“At the moment I can’t really have crushes, because I’m recently single. But I get fascinated by people, and I get fascinated by the possibility – of being with them, of being near them, but not of being in a relationship with them.” They understood, but I never really said that to Laurel, except to hint that I had been single for not a long enough time for it to be okay to want something like that.

If that wasn’t confusing enough, a boy is what you might call “flirting” with me, though that just made me burst out laughing, and nearly choke on my dinner. He’s the type of person who half-pisses me off and half-makes me laugh, but he’s been surprisingly supportive over the last month or so. It’s not like I’ve shared intimate details of my feelings, but he’s called me up a couple of times to tell me highly offensive yet funny jokes to cheer me up.

Our friendship is strange, I suppose. I say that I’m exasperated with him, but secretly I don’t find him bad. I would never have anything with him, because 1) He goes to the same school as S and Pansy which I can’t deal with and 2) he was absolutely awful to Pansy back in year 8, and it would be morally wrong in a friend perspective to get involved, in whatever capacity, with him. Also, he can be a prick and he’s not someone who cares overly, and not someone who I’d jump over the moon for.

Even though it would be shit, I’m curious yet again. Like with Laurel, it’s not an active thought, but whenever he makes a slightly suggestive comment, my immediate reaction isn’t disgust. Yes, there’s humour there because I find it hilarious that anyone would compliment me, and I always say “Poor you!” or “Hah, I don’t believe you,” when he says anything like that. He said I was hot earlier, and I’ve never laughed so hard. But I suppose I want to be wanted – don’t we all? In one of his supportive moments he said we should meet up because he finds me “cool”, but I’m scared that when we meet up I’ll get that burning curiosity. I’m nervous that, in my “This is myBasically, my head is a mess currently. Kissing someone, or leaning into them, is no way to deal with a breakup, but I no longer interpret it as dealing with it. I can deal with the breakup on my own terms, without using physicality as a distraction. Any so-called ‘physicality’ would be as a result of me wanting it – not for romantic purposes but just because. Laurel and that boy aren’t people I fancy, and though it could grow, I don’t want it to; maybe having curiosity for a number of people is bad, but it’s like wanting experiences and there’s nothing flawed in that unless it causes people harm.

I want to show you that you can be open with these things. Unless you’re not ready for anything, or unless you’re not pressuring yourself, you should know that you can do with your body what the hell you want. It’s not ‘too grown-up’ or shameful – though please don’t do anything too outrageous if you’re younger. I was told by my mum and other adults that I shouldn’t do anything ever unless I was in a relationship, but you know what? I can talk about it; I can show others that talking about it or not talking about it if you aren’t comfortable is totally fine.

If I get fascinated by something, and if both me and any person involved are totally okay with it not progressing to ‘romance’, then there’s no issue. The issues start to happen when complicated and unreturned feelings start happening, or when someone gets hurt. I don’t want either, and so if anything happens in the near future (which it won’t because I’m me), then I’m going to make sure that people explicitly know what I do not want. That’s why I’m being so open about this.

I’m nervous of seeing Laurel tomorrow, not least because I think I acted like an obsessive moron. I’ll just have to deal with it, keep up with lessons and live a little in the process.

Your body is yours; don’t be ashamed of it. I spent enough time calling myself some awful names, telling myself I was a ‘bitch’, ‘slut’, and someone who ‘played around with emotions’. I’m not. You aren’t either.

From Elm πŸ™‚

I Cry for What We Had

I sat down to write this post and just burst into tears.

It’s partly because I don’t know how to express the depth of awful feelings I’m holding, because I shut myself off from it. It feels like it’s too much, so that I have no idea where to start. It’s also because of relief: I can finally release them – not that I’ve held myself back before, but over the last week, it’s been ripping at a wall inside my mind, and I’m crying because I’m letting myself talk about it.

There was this time in Thailand where I was kind of scared because it was late, my dad and stepmother had gone out and I was in a village on my own with people I didn’t know very well. S – my ex-boyfriend – stayed on the phone with me for 2 hours. He was there, all throughout it, listening to me get slightly hysterical. That was before we properly went out, but it was a possibility then; it was before he cheated on me, and the one thing that has emained constant is that I don’t blame him for anything. He was always there and the thing that kills me is that I felt like I took him for granted, took it all for granted, and now that I don’t have it any more I’m realising how incredibly happy I was. Despite my stress at the beginning of the school year, despite my paranoia, I was happy.

All of the late night conversations are replaying in my mind: the laughter, the way he understood me, and it’s making my tears fall faster than they have in a while. There were just little things: me jokingly referring to myself as his “bitch”, the way he spoke, the knowledge that we’d still be there despite anything, his reassurances that Pansy was a good friend of his and that was it – which was true up until the day we broke up. I remember our first kiss – I suppose the pain made it come to the forefront of my mind. God, that was well over a year ago.

After I bailed on him, back in October of last year, I’d contacted him and he (rightly) hadn’t had the best response because I broke stuff off with no explanation. Then, we started speaking again and it was beautiful because I could confide in him, and he’s known me for so long that it didn’t feel forced. That simple reality – that I’ve lost that, too, though god knows if he meant for it to be lost or not – makes me remember how it was after Ash and I broke friends. I hate losing people; I hate having my trust destroyed, and I also hate not being able to blame anything. I don’t want him to feel guilty, because if he felt what I was feeling now he wouldn’t be able to be happy with Pansy and that would be awful.

In the summer, it seemed so lovely, and it was. After a year of me being a dick, I’d finally come to my senses – because he’d been there, through so much, supporting me as I did him. But like with every fairytale, this one shattered, sooner than I thought. But it’s fucking over and yes, I’m sobbing, so that I can barely breathe, but what’s the point in hoping?

The thing is, I regret none of it. I’m cherishing the good memories we had, locking them away and holding them close, not revealing what exactly happened as I did with Ash. I learned my lesson there, but still, the sharp and raw sting of rejection of worn out promises burns.

At the heart of it, I miss what we had. I don’t care when people say that one day it’ll stop hurting, because that day is not today and I want to feel this utter misery for now, because it reminds me I’m human and I’m able to deal with it. Everything has accumulated itself: I heard a song earlier that we both love, and saw his name on Facebook, and saw her name too and it just killed. Because right now, I guarantee, they are laughing with each other, or will have today. Me? I’m crying. How stupid is that?

I feel wounded, is the best description for it, because they have forgotten. For good reason: I wanted them to; they should be happy, and not worry about me because I’m a bitter little snowflake. Nobody should have to deal with my tears, the pathetic ones I cry in the dark, because I’m becoming furious with my own mind. In the end, who cares? There are much more important things to deal with, and I’ll just exist until it all passes, until I can love without wanting to die.

It is just not fucking fair. All of it. The fact that I got cheated on, that I’m so unhappy, that I’m unmotivated. The fact that it was so nice before, that I felt secure because he’s a wonderful person, whereas now I’m a wreck in a storm with an ocean that could break me into tiny pieces. Whenever I feel sad, I feel guilty and even worse because of it, because I remember our conversation when he told me they were officially together, nearly 2 weeks ago. Ever since then, I’ve been disgustingly clingy, feeling terrible when I both don’t receive replies from people and don’t reply to them myself.

I sounded so awful. He seemed exasperated, but perhaps that was my mind recreating emotions that weren’t there. I have a habit of doing that. I told him that my thoughts were “irritating”, because if I’d told him the truth – which I then did – I would cry for hours – which I then did. Come to think of it, I think that everyone is irritated with me. Either that or they’ve had enough, as I’ve had enough with myself. My pain’s getting old, and I don’t want people to have time for me because they need to move on with their lives.

I dislike myself, and you may be asking “What’s there to dislike – this isn’t your fault!” It isn’t my fault, or his or hers, because life happens and someone was going to get hurt anyway: better me than her and I still stand by that. As with everything, I’ve somehow convinced myself that I’m not good enough in the slightest. I feel worthless, so much less than second best; if he liked me so much, then why did he cheat on me, and so that means that he didn’t like me much after all. That, coupled with the memories and together with my general feeling that people shouldn’t bother with me as all I’ll do is become possessive and sad, has grown into a terrifying blend of shit.

What’s holding me together? I don’t know. If he talks to me about my emotions again, it’ll probably make him feel bad or tired or guilty, and I don’t want that. I hope he uses the logic of his own mental well-being as to why he realistically shouldn’t talk to me because I care about him and I don’t want to ruin anything. But I hate things coming to an end, knowing that there’s nothing I can do.

I’m hurt. I’m so damn hurt and the worst thing is that this will happen over and over, to me and to everyone else. That brings me back: what makes me so special? What makes me worthy of any attention besides the average? Nothing because I’m just one broken girl in a sky of millions.

Breakdowns are going to happen to me for a long while, but the likelihood is I won’t advertise them. If I pretend to be okay, maybe I will be; if I tell myself that people are tired of my shit, perhaps that’ll make me stop feeling like this. I can’t, though. I have no energy.

I miss him, and I miss Pansy. I want to know how they are, but at the same time I want to scream and tear at myself, to cry but to not worry anybody. However, the sheer fact that I’m posting this shows me that I want people to notice, which is so screwed up.

This is the most disjointed thing I’ve written; I’m sorry for the nonsensical ramblings. I’m extremely done with myself, so drained, and all I want is for me to care about me. I know that a lot of you care about me, which is one of the things that helps.

No more hoping, or wishing, or thinking “What if…?” Because the what ifs are smashed and the hopes burned and the wishes were all wasted on a star that is no longer in my galaxy.

From Elm πŸ™‚

My Terrible Voice is Back!

A few months ago, I used to make voice recordings for this blog, which I put up on Youtube.

I miss doing that, and because I was bored today, I decided to record a new “video”. My new followers most likely won’t have heard my voice (you really aren’t missing out because I sound painfully posh) and since I’m awful at staying anonymous, here it is!

This one is 8 minutes of me talking about my breakup, which you can read about here. More spefically, I haven’t been dealing with it well, and I want both you and I to learn from that.

Breakups are horrible. Even though mine ended with no argument, no anger, it’s still very painful for me and that’s alright; how could it NOT be? There’s always going to be a certain sadness about things ending, which I’ve experienced in the (three) breakups I’ve had, to varying degrees. You have as well, or you will, and don’t be scared of it.

I’m not expecting this recording to be groundbreaking, or anything. It’s just one girl rambling about her rather insignificant problems, but I wanted to do it on voice. It’s all very well to write it down and I mostly prefer that, because I’m a blogger at heart, but I sometimes need to let you hear the true emotions of my words.

I hold no bitterness towards S or Pansy: they are lovely people. I want them to be the happiest they’ve ever been, because I know their great qualities and I also know that they fit together. That’s all I can ask: for them to smile. I don’t want to come across as angry with them, because I’m not in the slightest.

Yes, I’m paranoid and sad and I think that people hate me, but soon, I’ll prove that wrong. At least some people love me, and I’ll hold onto that.

Also, I’ve just realised – at the end, I refer to what I did as a “post”. Excuse me while I cringe in a corner.

If you got to the end of that recording, thank you. My posh voice astounds even me, and if you’re hearing me for the first time then heyy! For the record, I’m not a youtuber (that is HILARIOUS), only a blogger who likes to speak occasionally.

From Elm πŸ™‚

Dear Ash

Dear Ash,

You won’t remember, but when we were 14, I wrote on my stupid old blog about my ‘abandonment issues’ – which weren’t serious, though you helped me to realise that they mattered. Even if I’m very glad that you called me out on my bullshit, which caused me to write that excuse for a post, part of me wishes I’d never done it.

You see, if I’d have been honest with you from the start, none of this would have happened. I wouldn’t have tried so desperately to be friends, constantly replying to messages and getting paranoid even before the days where you called me a close friend, letting you trust me, trusting you in return: because if little 14-year-old me had held back, I would never have fallen in love with you. Is that a good thing? I don’t think so.

Not that I realised I was necessarily lying. In the early days, it was just a way to let myself realise that people didn’t all think I was stupid, that you – someone who was kind, out of my social circle – respected me. And so it continued, like the time I somehow got your number by lying. Do you have any idea how awful I felt about myself? No. You don’t.

2 years on, and I’ve figured out that I don’t care any more. You no longer have the power to make my mind spin in a circle with panic, to cause me to question what kind of person I am. It’s not you that does that any more; rather, it’s everything that happened after you. You were the root cause, the person who made me change and see that I was acting terribly.

I’ll be honest with you, despite the fact that you’ll never read this. It’s time to truly admit to myself that this shit wasn’t my fault, but that I don’t blame you either. So, here we go; I’ll delve into a year of hurt and love and all that shit.

I wanted to be to you what you were to me. I think it was as simple as that. I craved the friendship, the happiness I felt when you trusted me: that simple trust, from someone I had a deep-rooted respect for, was so foreign. Before I start howling at myself, I’ll explain what you did.

Yes, you had things going on at the time, with your girlfriend, your mental health, and people bullying you. But it didn’t give you the right to completely blank my existence, for a month, and then come back and tell me that I’ve been such a good friend to you. I KNEW I had. “No!” my mind screams, “He needed space, and you can’t blame him; you did all he asked and that was to be there for him.” Yeah, that’s true; I never doubted that you felt terrible for your actions because I know you did. It ate at you, ripping away at who you were.

That argument. God, it was stupid; if we’d both talked it out, it could have been resolved. I still blame myself in the corner of my mind, because I never gave you privacy. Here we go with the honesty thing again: I told my friends what we talked about because I fancied the shit out of you. I was soaring on the feeling of love, happiness, and excitement at something new.

The point is, I never thought straight. I’m making excuses, I know, and it’s pointless anyway because it’s all in the past. Every conversation we had, I stored in my head, and if that’s not possessive and weird I don’t know WHAT is.

Remember when Holly made me upset when she talked about suicide and we called from your friends to come and talk to me, help me? I still feel cold when I think how… Awkward that was. I needed you at the time, yet you said for me to not do that again because you weren’t good with sudden real life things. I understood that, still do, but it hurt like the chill of regret.

So many things hurt, actually; it’s all coming back now. Your lovely words, when you said I’d always been there for you when you apologised after our massive argument. I had, but I wish it had only been as friends because THEN, I could have been honest and not let my feelings get in the way. Those arguments, when I was so awful to your ex-girlfriend and you said it had made things worse, but you didn’t blame me. Thank you.

I’m doing it again, see? Exposing your privacy. Telling the internet what you said, what you did, still trying to make myself feel better. Who cares if you’ll never read it? It’s still not fair, and it’s just drudging up old memories and pain.

Honestly, it makes me cringe how I acted before, after we stopped talking utterly in June last year. No goodbye, no anything, only scraps of “Why should I talk to her?” from Holly, and the pain in my mind from countless hours of telling myself I had fucked everything up. I’m presuming that you had so much going on at the time that I was the last thing on your mind, which I respect.

You had no idea how much a simple thing affected me. How, every time I showed it to my friends, I felt sick with myself and pathetic that someone could rule my thoughts. It was toxic, poisonous, crawling underneath my skin through the scratches I left.

Now, when I look back, I wish you hadn’t consumed so much of my thoughts and my time. It’s pathetic really, though both my friends and me tell me it’s not: you were a large part of my life, and so it was only natural – right? For a long time after all of it, your name made me flinch and hate myself just that little bit more. It’s overdramatic I know, but I think only I understood the mind-numbing pain I experienced when you never replied to me. Burning, sinking with all the certainty that you were no longer my friend.

I felt needy, clingy, all the things you described me to be before. I shut everything out sometimes, not letting myself feel the pure hatred I felt for myself, and when I heard your name it was like a slap to the face as my heart split open. All the fights I heard about, the stuff you did at parties, and the ever-present knowledge that you smoked weed: something I thought that you would never do, for reasons nobody but a few people understand. Not that it matters; you most likely think I’ve told everyone, when that’s the furthest from the truth.

I’m not sorry, which surprises me. I feel horribly guilty for how I acted, but I was in love and it wasn’t my fault. You were the first person that truly inspired me to want to help people, support people, which made me into who I am today. People won’t get why I still have to thank you, why I still would care if you got hurt.

Through you, I became friends with the person who hated you, who is now one of my closest friends. That’s probably ironic, so maybe that’s why I’m laughing? My friends at the time are closer to me now, and I’ve made so many new ones too.

We’re talking again, and you act as if you care. THOUGH I’m terrified that I will, I’m trying not to fall into the same trap of trusting you, getting drawn in. I’m not stupid enough this time. So many things have changed about me, like you wouldn’t believe, but I don’t want you to know. My heart doesn’t skip when I see your name and I don’t WAIT for you to reply, because if you don’t, that’s fine.

It makes it easier that you aren’t coming back to our school next year. I don’t have to hear your voice, or your name in class, and the only contact I’ll have with you is the Internet – oh shit, that’s how it was in our friendship. That’s messed up and isn’t how things should be; I’ve learnt that now.

I don’t love you, and haven’t for over a year. It makes me happy to know that, because I can admit that moving on was because of my strength of character. In some corner of my mind, I suppose I hate you, but it’s a muted roar and is nothing important. It’s impractical and immature, far overshadowed by the things that happened after.

All in all? You aren’t why I do things any more. You don’t keep me sane, happy; I’m not the great friend to you I once was, and you don’t trust me on a whole different level. Good.

If I’d have been more honest, less willing to share what we spoke about, and if I didn’t care so much – I wouldn’t have been so hurt, and maybe things for both of us would have ended up differently. But I’m glad they didn’t, as because of you, I grew up, realised how horrible I could be (yes, I’m quoting you) and learned to live with childish guilt.

Have a nice life in college. Maybe one day, we’ll be friends, and we’ll see sides to each other that will remind us of days gone by. Maybe we’ll trust each other, talk about who we’ve fallen in love with, and ask each other how we’ve REALLY been. Until then, I’m very much done with you. For a while, I’ve been STRONG enough to be done with you.

I’m not angry. I’m not sad, not longing for the past, and not crying over how you made me feel. I’m living my life, and if you ever find out about this blog or that I’ve written this, you’ll laugh so hard that you’ll be sick because I’m being too dramatic and sentimental. I don’t care.

From Elm πŸ™‚

My Prom Night!

Hellooo! Here’s the update that I promised yesterday. It’s a long post – not because something HUGE happened, but just because I like to write a lot.

I’m going to run through what happened, start to end, and then explain my thoughts and feelings (if I haven’t already within the post). Just to say, I DIDN’T go to the afterparty after all, and I’ll explain why in a bit.

First of all, I got my hair and makeup done. It was at this adorable little place in the town next to mine, and the ladies who made me up were so lovely. I kept on making jokes about how inexperienced I was at even doing makeup, whenever they wanted to know what kind of eyeshadow I preferred. I also had my nails done (they used an awesome UV lamp to dry them which was about my favourite part), and also my eyebrows waxed which really didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. Better than getting it threaded, because apparently that hurts to hell.

I’ll give you a little description of what I looked like, as I can’t show a picture (because anonymity). My hair was curled so that it fell in waves, with two plaits secured at the back of my head with pins. Some hair was brought forward, so that it hung over my shoulders, and the rest of my hair fell down my back. My nails were sort of a red colour and were sparkling/glittering, and they matched my dress. Getting it all done made me feel amazing, like I was properly beautiful and that I didn’t have to be ashamed of anything. I remember walking out of the place, into the slight drizzle and just feeling powerful, floaty and different.

After that, I went home, put my dress on and went to Red’s house. I was constantly paranoid that my hair would be ruined, as it was raining (love you too, England) and that we would be late (because of traffic). Red’s phone’s buggered so I couldn’t text him to tell him I’d be slightly late. We eventually arrived, and when I opened the door the reaction from Red’s mum made me grin like a moron because she was the first person, apart from my parents, that have seen me in the flesh with my dress on.

Because my mum is obsessed with the idea of me having a “date” (even though he and I went as friends), they took about a million photos. I had to perfect my smile, which I STILL can’t do because it either looks fake or like I’m in pain. Oh well! It was really nice to just be standing there having your photo taken – plus, Red gave me the most adorable corsage (which I then didn’t wear at prom itself because I’m a dick) but I loved it and it matched my dress and ahh!

Luckily, I hadn’t changed my mind at the last minute and gone to Holly’s thing, so Red and I were driven to Pine’s house. Thank god for that, because I had so much fun. I don’t often involve myself in that group, but I’m going to next year because they are so so lovely. Daisy was there – a girl I used to hate – but also Cedar… Yeah, the Cedar I used to have a huge crush on, who now very much fancies Pine. Whoops.

In the process of staying at Pine’s, I managed to smash a really nice champagne glass (thanks Red), nearly fall over in my heels, almost forget my bag and then have a tiny crush on Cedar once more. He kept on moving closer to me on the sofa, but I know that was because he wanted to move closer to the others. Ehh well; I still had such fun because I laughed insanely when we had to take pictures, and just at the banter we had.

We went to Prom in a camper van, which was fucking awesome. It didn’t have any seat belts, so me, Daisy and another girl were on a long seat, gripping onto each other, and Pine and our other friend were on the floor (the boys went in a separate car). There was a lot of screaming and laughter, but my favourite part of the journey was when Daisy and I spoke. She and I have had our ups and downs but to be honest, I think she’s really awesome. She’s been there for people so much, and when we were talking, she said that I was really kind and that I always tried to be there for everyone. That made me unbelievably emotional, because I just want to leave year 11 on a high point with as many people as possible.

The Prom itself was at a hotel. It was drizzling again, and somewhat cold; after a horrendously long queue to get in, we got out of the van (and I nearly tripped over Daisy’s dress), stood around in the rain and then finally got into the building itself. Walking past teachers, whilst they compliment you on your outfit and you’re surrounding by the chatter and laughter of people in your year was the best feeling; it made me feel invincible. Though I still had trouble walking in my heels, at least I didn’t fall over.

After that, the events become more hazy. The room in which the Prom was being held was small compared to the size of our year, with a carpetted floor and food outside (it was so stressful trying to get said food, and we ended up jumping the queue to be next to Red). There was loud music – which, coupled with the din of people yelling and exclaiming over dresses and clothes – made it so bloody difficult to hear myself, or anyone around me.

Highlights of the evening include:
Wren running up to me and attacking me with a huge hug whilst we both screamed about our dresses
Going to a photobooth with Pine and her group
Going to the same photobooth and getting pictures with Wren (I don’t know what I’d do without her; she makes my day every day).
Getting photos with Wren and Red, where we had stupid props on and looked so moronic that it was hilarious
Dancing with Odd where they span me round and we both went crazy
Standing outside when I needed fresh air, and feeling the wind on my face whilst people laughed around me

It came to my attention, quite horribly and unexpectedly throughout the night, that I really – and I mean REALLY – wanted to get with someone. Because I’m insane and I like getting the piss taken out of me by my real life friends, it’s the guy I talked about in this post so if you haven’t read that, you should (she says, self-promoting like a pro). It came as a horrifying realisation: I’ve always had a slight “fascination” with Sycamore, as he’s always been so kind but also, he’s in a different group to me. I don’t know how to explain it. There was me, pissed off and frustrated because I KNEW nothing would happen: I didn’t see him all night, and I knew he wasn’t going to the afterparty. In addition to that, Prom’s not really the place where you “hook up” with someone as I expected it to be just hanging out with friends, rather than kissing people. I just wanted to kiss him, to know what it was like, and to prove myself I COULD. Is that fucked up?

The most emotional part of the evening was when I said goodbye to Cedar. He was also someone who I half wanted to have something with, and though I didn’t do anything with him, he found me at the end of the night. For a few minutes, we had a lovely conversation that ended with this:
C: Okay Elm… I have to go now.
E: Ehhh okay, see ya!
C: So, have a nice life.
E: Eyy c’mon, give me a hug.
So we hug for about 30 seconds, with me just breathing and trying my best not to cry because as much as I don’t have feelings for him, I care about him so much. He trusted me with how shit he felt about the Pine situation and as we hugged, I was pretty sure he was remembering that. AHHH I still feel emotional.

I spoke to Willow loads as well throughout the night. We were standing outside the main room, hugging like crazy and just holding each other and talking. I will never, ever forget about her because she’s so fab; we just wandered around at one point and I told her about the Sycamore situation (that has a nice ring to it) so that she’d understand how frustrated I was. ALSO, I’ve been screaming for the past 12 hours because the person she’s fancied for ages and her kissed and I won’t say who that is because privacy, but it’s so so lovely and I’m so happy for her because she deserves it! She and I spoke on the phone about it, amidst me squealing about how adorable it was.

When Prom was ending, I felt even more emotional. There was elation, because I’d spent time with friends and had the best time, but also a slight disappointment because of all the things I didn’t do. I won’t dwell on that, though; I still have time to do whatever I want. We went back to Pine’s house, dropping Red off on the way, and I was so incredibly tired that I could barely move. My feet were aching like hell because of the heels, and I nearly fell on Red at one point because I could barely stand upright.

Pine and I didn’t go to the afterparty, as I was so tired. In a way, it was lucky we were both not there, as it got shut down by the police at 2 which kind of makes me laugh, though it shouldn’t. Because of that, I stayed over at hers and we talked for about an hour before going to sleep. It was about everything: Willow (because I shrieked when I found out about her romantic moment), people, how we’ve changed, life and pretty much everything else. As I did with Willow and Wren, I told her about Sycamore and she was totally fine with it, and even said she’d organise something in the summer where we could all hang out. I’m so glad I have Pine still here, because she’s great.

All in all, I had a brilliant night. Spending time with friends, especially Odd, Red and Wren, made my entire week. I won’t be forgetting about this in a hurry, and I’ll always remember the crowds, the loud music and how I just felt included.

So many people complimented me on my dress, which made me feel great because I’d put effort in. Maybe I wasn’t the most stunning, but I was pretty enough for me, and pretty enough for me to feel like I really was. According to loads of other people, everyone’s dresses were gorgeous (Willow’s, Wren’s, EVERYONE’s) and it was so nice to see that people were happy when others told them, “You look so beautiful!”

I may not have kissed anyone last night, but that comes second to having a wonderful time. I had one, but happiness doesn’t mean having both; it means having enough of one to feel like you can do anything.

From Elm πŸ™‚

I WAS MORTIFIED and I’m Also A Judgemental Prick

The mature post title really does astound me.

So, here we are again: yesterday, a situation happened which made me possibly the most embarrassed I’ve felt in a LONG time. Feel free to laugh, or sigh in disgust. Feels weird writing about things like this again.

I wrote in my post that I was angry that I got feelings for people too quickly, and that was PARTLY to do with the person I’m about to talk about. 5 days ago or so – no wait, SOME time around that I mean, maybe on Wednesday – I started talking to yet ANOTHER person online. I’ll use his real name: Kai.

Oh, for fuck’s sake, I just don’t… I’m not even going to get into how THAT happened, but I showed him my youtube channel, he showed me his, we both concluded we were quite good at writing songs and he asked me if I wanted to write a song with him. That transitioned into getting his number – and honestly, I don’t regret that part. I don’t exactly regret ANYTHING, really, except that I LIED to a few people about where I met Kai. I’m really sorry about that, if you’re reading this. I’m just a bit of an idiot when it comes to things like this.

We started talking (no SHIT SHERLOCK). With Kai, it would never have been a friends thing – I think it would have been a “casual romance” thing or a nothing. That’s mainly because I put (and he also put) three x’s at the end of texts – and if you know me, you know I NEVER do that. Ever. I barely ever put one x at the end of things as it is – that might not seem significant, but ahh well. It was ALWAYS a “flirting” thing, just I suppose to test myself, and to have things not so serious. WHY am I justifying this – it’s not bad.

I didn’t exactly have feelings for the guy. I was just CURIOUS about having feelings – you know? I’d get that leap in my chest whenever he texted, but it wasn’t based on anything solid, just an “Ohh, this could develop into something!” I like his lyrics and the MEANINGFUL things he writes about.

As you know, yesterday, I was having a bit of a freak out about myself, and was texting L about it. I sent him a text, telling him about the people I had possible feelings for – that included Kai.


I have never, EVER sworn so loudly in my life, or felt as freezing and horrified as I did. Luckily, he was fine with it and then asked if he could call. We hadn’t spoken on the phone before, so our first call was THEN – he was on a train and I couldn’t really hear him, but the subject of the text wasn’t really brought up.

So, that was all fine. I was just planning on, well, going with the flow and not doing anything about the not even feelings because I’m very stressed right now and adding to that would be pointless. I messaged him about an hour later, still horrifically mortified, and just casually asked what he was doing.

And he told me he was smoking a joint, and then asked if I minded. I said NO, NOT REALLY, AND ASKED IF HE SMOKED TOBACCO. HE SAID NO, but that if I hated him smoking he wouldn’t dream of smoking near me, which I suppose is decent.

But I do mind. I mind a lot, because I hate cannabis so so much. I know I shouldn’t, and I KNOW I shouldn’t judge people who smoke it – but I do. It’s quite immature because there are so many good people that smoke it. Why do people do it, at the risk of cancer and all types of physical and mental effects – it might not be as harmful as tobacco, but that doesn’t mean it’s HARMLESS.

Part of me felt disappointed, and then violently guilty. I suppose it’s a missed opportunity, as AWFUL as that is – I don’t even know. I just hate cannabis – mainly cause of Ash, but that’s a whole other story.

I didn’t tell many people. Willow, cause she knew about Kai before, and then my friend S and someone I can’t think of a name for – EHH I call her Rapunzel so let’s stick with it.

I don’t feel ashamed for talking to him. Right now, I’m just living my life, and trying my best to revise for my exams, so a relationship is not what I need. I think.

Well. I HOPE you somewhat enjoyed that story? I’m still rather embarrassed, but the main thing is, I’m not UPSET especially. Just a bit thoughtful.

Am I wrong for judging him so harshly, when he seems a nice-ish guy otherwise?

From Elm πŸ™‚

Not My Story

Today, I realised that I’m closer with my friend Willow than I think I’ve ever been before. We’ve known each other for 5 years, been through so much crap together – yet it’s now that I realise just how much I love her (platonically).

We were in PE together, “exercising”, and just talking. Red was there too, and at times we got all emotional. She’s absolutely amazing.

There’s a story she wanted me to share with you – well, she said I could. I told her people would be supportive of her, because you’re all my friends and you’re all brilliant. Willow and I have been through a LOT, and neither of us wants any of it to repeat – she never wants me to get hurt by anything like what happened with Ash again, and I never want her to feel as awful as she did in what I’m about to talk about. After talking, and also talking with Red about it, we hugged a lot and I felt like crying because she, of all people, understands me so much.

So, this is something that happened to Willow, not long ago. And, well, my thoughts on it.

Willow used to fancy this guy, let’s call him T. T didn’t like her like that, and – understandably – she was damn upset. In a similar fashion to what I’ve done before, she started talking to people on the internet – there’s nothing wrong with it, and she needed to get over T.

There was a boy. Let’s use his real name – Anthony. To start, Anthony was lovely, and amazing and kind to her, and god knows she deserves that. After a while, he asked her for pictures.

First time, she said no. Second time, she said no. The THIRD time, she said yes – it might seem stupid to you, but in her situation, I don’t blame her. He seemed lovely and to genuinely care about her.

They exchanged pictures, and skyped, and afterwards she felt sick with herself but she did it again, because she felt like he would never talk to her again if she didn’t. He seemed like he wanted a relationship, that it was MORE than casual. As you can tell, I damn well hate this guy, though I’ve never spoken to him.

She blocked him, but then unblocked him for a little while (think that’s how it went?). They exchanged pictures again, but he screenshotted them – after this, she blocked him. Permanently.

It’s messed her up and it breaks my heart because she blames herself. I’m trying to tell her – it’s not her fault. She is an amazing, amazing girl, and she was manipulated by someone when she was hurt beforehand.

I’ve seen how it’s affected her – she told me about the tears, the pain, and I can’t help but support her. I know a little what it’s like to think EVERYTHING is your fault, and no one should have to go through that. She might have made a mistake, but she’s learning from it and that’s the important part.

I think we all need to experience something like this, to KNOW. It’s no use judging people, for what they do and what they send, because you never know if they regret it or feel sick with themselves. Originally, when Anthony was nice to her, I was in support because she – and I – didn’t know what he was like. That’s what happens in life, really.

I guess the message here is that everyone does stupid things, but don’t beat yourself up about it. I know that Willow and I have sometimes not been the best – that post I wrote a while back about her leaving my group and being a stranger (which she read, but we both grew up and understand each other now) just SHOWS that.

Really, though, I appreciate her so much more now. We’re so alike, in what we’ve been through – I’ll admit it, I’ve done some VERY stupid things and no one knows about them hahaha shiiit… Anyway.

If you’ve been in a similar situation to Willow, it’s not your fault. Know that whatever you go through, all the pain and the confusion and the disgust with yourself – that’s what teaches you things. You’re brave, you’re strong and you’re bloody amazing for dealing with everything you’ve gone through) That applies to everyone.

From Elm πŸ™‚

Just To let You Know

This is just a quick note to say I broke up with Aspen.

Before you say anything, he’s done NOTHING to hurt me and I’m not angry with him. He’s a fantastic guy and I respect him loads, and so I’d rather not talk about this because I won’t expose his privacy.

Thanks everyone.

From Elm πŸ™‚

Let’s NOT Compare the Two

“Do you think you’re in love, Elm?”

“I… Yes. Again, yes.”

“What about the feelings you had for Ash – are the ones with Aspen stronger?”

“I’m not sure – they’re VERY different, but they’re the same strength if you think about it like that. If not stronger.”

“Yeah, but I think THIS one is better, because you had a LOT of self-hatred last time.”

“Yup. I won’t lie to you – I was in love with Ash; I’m not denying it. I mean he’s a dick and he made me feel awful but…”

“He unintentionally messed you up really badly and hurt you. I mean, Elm, you were at rock bottom and now you seem so much happier.”

“Yeah, I am. Don’t want to ever go back to that.”

That was a paraphrased conversation I had with Wren this lunch when we were queuing to get food. Before that, we’d discussed some topics that were bloody mature, which of course lead onto the topic of love. More was said, but I can’t really remember it – that was the gist.

I shouldn’t really be writing now because it’s late and I’m more or less incoherent and I hit self-loathing mode earlier, but I’m managing. I want to talk about something that makes me HAPPY.

I don’t think you can ever compare two feelings of love, or the feelings you get for two people. So, I won’t. I’ll just lay out the facts.

Ash let me experience the most wonderful friendship I’ve ever had. He trusted me. He was a lovely person and made me feel okay about myself when I wanted to just crawl away and never come back. I’ll always thank him for that.

But he hurt me. He hurt me so badly and I’m still recovering. I thought I’d be permanently screwed up and that I’d never be able to feel for someone like I did Ash. I was WRONG, and right, but mostly wrong.

Because, um, Aspen happened. Here we go with the sentimentality. Sorry about this, but this is what you get when I write at quarter to eleven.

Sometimes you get feelings that just overpower you in the best way, and you want to hold them forever. I don’t know how to explain this.

Aspen has shown me, indirectly, that I’m not totally screwed up. I CAN feel love again. I’m worth something – err yeah, I’m slowly getting convinced.

Every single damn time I have a breakdown and feel so sick I can’t actually do a thing, he’s there for me, which makes me feel RATHER guilty but there you go. He reminds me of all my good qualities and even some I didn’t know existed within me. Every time we talk, there’s a mix of humour and talking about “deep shit” – I don’t know how to say it, but I’m still surprised whenever he says “I love you”.

I wish I could talk about this better. He means more to me than I could ever have imagined and part of me doesn’t understand how I got this lucky, after the MONTHS and MONTHS of freakouts and breakdowns over Ash where I felt like my whole world had flipped over. Aspen knows about it and he can tell how bad it gets sometimes, which I thank him for. I thank him for a LOT of things.

It probably seems odd that I CONSTANTLY talk about Ash, but he was a huge part of my life and I can’t change that. He still affects me, but less so, because I have someone who can help me get through the worst of the pain. Me, thinking I was SO mature, thought I knew what love felt like when I fell in love with Ash, but that was only the surface of it. My feelings for Ash are as valid as the ones for Aspen, but they’re so different and Aspen doesn’t and HASN’T caused me confusion and pain and hasn’t broken my heart. Ash has done all of those, which is why the feelings were so different.

I won’t say either are BETTER feelings, but I’m so much more happy now than I was. I can honestly say that YEAH, I’m in love for the second time and I’m not scared of it like I was before. I CAN feel these things and it’s okay and I’m not betraying my memory of Ash. I never went out with Ash, but it still stands.

Where did this post go? I’m not sure. I’m rambling about my feelings, but I’m happy about it.

Don’t ever think you can’t feel something again, because you CAN. I’ll be here to convince you of that, along with your friends and anyone else who will listen. You’re not alone and it might hurt right now, but trust me, you WILL get through it. It’s patronising of me to say, but it’s true. Don’t give up on yourself.

I literally thought my world had crumbled when I realised I wasn’t in love with Ash any more. It was the worst feeling – or close to it – I have experienced in a very long time. But it taught me something, as everything with Aspen is teaching me something: it might look shitty now, but if I don’t get through it, I might never know what I could have missed.

I feel like this post could have been better. Soon, I’ll expand on my feelings MORE, because I didn’t really do a very good job here.

Hope this wasn’t too sentimental. for you, OR for me. I’ll probably look back on this and cringe.

From Elm πŸ™‚