#rojiface

It has been a tremendously long time since I last wrote anything worthwhile on here, and what I'm about to write is probably going to go unnoticed, but I don't mind.

I've been thinking a lot about my past lately, about how I've changed, both physically and mentally, throughout the growing up process. Some of it was natural change, some of it was forced upon me. I feel as though I am being forever categorised as a victim of life's turmoil. It is almost as if people fail to realise that behind the medical conditions and sexual abuse of the past, there is a real person; a real person who is trying her damn hardest to move forward from the events of the past in order to blossom into the person that she knows she can be. I feel like a phoenix. A beautiful phoenix on the road to rediscovery and healing, but that's impossible to do when I'm constantly surrounded by false sympathy, and a lack of consideration from people that are supposed to be my friends. Admittedly, not all of my friends are assholes, but I'm unfortunate enough to actually be living with a girl who is incapable of respecting any responsibility.

Now, I am not one to turn my back on a friend, let alone on a friend in need, however when said friend becomes progressively more aggressive, mentally draining and a greater threat to my own mental state (which I have worked unbelievable hard to get to this state), I have to draw the line. I'm not prepared to jeopardise my own mental stability in order to save someone else's who isn't willing to help themselves, who doesn't take her meds, doesn't talk to anyone, doesn't seek professional help. I am not a therapist, I cannot give her the help that she so blatantly needs. And so I am choosing not to. Does that make me a bad person? Not necessarily. For the first time in a long time, I have decided to put myself first, rather than being the sacrificial lamb that I am so used to being in almost any relationship that I've ever had. Does my selfishness make me a bad person? No! I'm allowed to care for myself, and that has been one of the biggest changes for me. I am finally doing things for me, I'm saying no to things I don't want to do, and I'm learning how to appreciate and love myself again.

I find solace in my relationships, however now, those relationships include the one that I have with myself. By respecting myself more, and giving myself more time, I'm allowing myself to grow, and I've realised now that not everyone is worth my everything. And I am just so tired of giving my everything to anyone who comes along, and I'm even more tired of being heartbroken when people give me nothing in return. I think I'm just at a stage in my life where I'm tired of the bullshit. To be perfectly blunt, I just don't give a shit about people who don't give a shit about me. Again, I have spent too much of my time caring about people who wouldn't even notice whether I was dead or alive, and I'm not prepared to do that anymore. I'm putting myself first, because I am worth it. And I'm rising from the ashes of my past as someone new.

Everything fell apart with that guy that I was seeing in like April, my granddad passed in May, I had some more minor surgeries in July/August, but I moved back to Manchester in September, and honestly I've never felt happier. 

With regards to that guy, I've realised now that I did not deserve to be at the receiving end of his ignorance and his inability to connect on anything more than a sexual level, so I tossed him from my life and finally after waiting all summer for an answer from him, I said my goodbyes and deleted him from every aspect of my life. The photos are gone, any memories I had of him I'm working on deleting.

Dealing with the death of my grandfather has got easier, I can't believe it's been 5 months already. It honestly feels like yesterday when I was watching his coffin be buried. It is true what they say though, it does get a lot easier with time; as cliche as that sounds, it really does. I still miss him sometimes, but then I wouldn't be a very good granddaughter if I didn't.

My surgeries were nothing to worry about, they were just minor angiograms to make sure that my blood vessels weren't blocking up again; which thank the lord, they aren't!

I moved back to Manchester in September, to a house with 4 of my now closest friends. It's like a constant sleepover, except we all get our own beds and our own space; I've never been happier. I mean, don't get me wrong, living with your best friends is tough, it makes you realise how much they really annoy you, but then you realise how much you truly care about them. I've got pissed off at some of them, but then thinking back over it I've been like, if someone hurt them in anyway I'd break that persons arm. These girls have become like my sisters at university, and it's strange considering I only met most of them this time last year. It's weird to think how much the student life, and living in university accommodation can bring people together and make them such good friends. 

I've cut down on my smoking; I failed at Stoptober, but I'm not gonna completely give up on giving up. It's gonna take me some time to adjust to this new lifestyle - plus my period has started today (I'm not pregnant, yay!) 10 days later than expected! - but I'm ready to turn a new leaf on my lifestyle, with regards to toning up, losing some weight, and FINALLY quitting smoking.

A friend of mine stayed with me last night. I woke up 3 hours before she did. I had another nightmare; but this one was so real. It felt as if his hands were on my face, around my throat; it felt like it was inside me. I haven't had anything like this for 2 years now and I was proud of it. I don't know why but it all just came flooding back. I didn't even anyone remotely old, or go near a park or anything, it just hit me like a tonne of bricks. I woke up in tears, feeling sick and completely violated. My friend doesn't know about last night, it would kill her if she knew that I'd woken up in that state and she didn't do anything. It's so hard though. I wish I could just forget it happened, but every time I try and get over it, and I'm succeeding, I'll have a flashback, a nightmare, or I'll see something that'll remind me and it pushes me down to my knees. 

There are issues in my flat that I live in; there's one person who is just making life so difficult for the rest of us. I may put on a smile and a smirk and joke about it, but it hurts me. It hurts how I was so close to him - we all were! - and he's just thrown it back in all of our faces. I would sit in his room for hours and comfort him as he ranted and shouted about how much he liked a girl but she wasn't interested in him as anything more than a friend. I always made an effort to get to know his group of friends and talk to them whenever they came round as they were always at our flat, and suddenly, he's fallen out with them because of his pettiness, and his new group of friends are the most disrespectful creatures I've ever had the misfortune of seeing in person. Now normally, I don't get offended easily, but they had their music blaring till 5am, I wouldn't mind, but it was literally like 2 days before my first exam and I had asked them 4 times to keep it down. He knew I'd been getting up at 8am to study for these exams. It's so fucking rude. Or, for example, I went down to the kitchen one evening to make myself a cup of tea so I could have a break from my revision, there was 20 people in our kitchen, all of them speaking spanish - or rather shouting in spanish as their music was so loud! - and I walked in and they all fell silent and just looked at me as if I was the scum of the earth, like I was a worthless little speck of dust, and the guy who is in MY flat and supposed to be OUR friend, just rolled his eyes at me and completely ignored me. Baring in mind this is a completely new group of friends, people I have never met before in my life, who does he think he is disrespecting me like that?! He does that, and the next time I walked in for a snack the entire fucking group does it. It was one of the most humiliating experiences of my life. 

Oh but it gets worse. Some of his food has gone missing, which is a common occurrence when you share a fridge with 7 other people, and he has left the most aggressive and threatening messages on our flat Facebook wall, to the extent that I am now afraid to walk into my own damn kitchen if I know he is in the flat. I stand outside the door and listen to hear his voice, if I hear it, I'll go up to my room and wait an hour, if I don't hear it then I know it's fine for me to go in without feeling like a complete outsider. And it's not just me, the other girls in the flat feel the same way. We have tried to organise flat meetings with him to discuss his issue, I mean, it's not the first time someone's food has been stolen, but he is the most unreasonable person fathomable. He is ignorant, two-faced, rude; the exact opposite of the person that he was when we met. The tension and anger has escalated to the point that I don't even want to see his face because I know I will either scream at him or burst into tears. He has accused us all of stealing, not only his food, but his alcohol and at one point even his MP3 player, which might I add went missing AFTER he had his friends round. Why the fuck do I need his shitty little MP3 player, I have my iPhone and my iPod? He's older than all of us too! He's 22 and he acts like a 16 year old, moping around like a wounded animal and then threatening us all on Facebook. 

The most recent one involved my dad; he was driving, and the car gets hit by a truck, sending us off the road. I somehow manage to throw myself across him and the car goes into a lamppost and my spine breaks and my shoulder pops out of place, and despite all of my own injuries and pain, I can tell he's dying; he's bleeding from his mouth and his eyes are flickering and all I can do is watch him as he tells me he loves me and just dies, with me laying across him. I'm crying so hard  but I can feel myself bleeding out and I just die on my dad. 

I mean, imagine what it's like living every day knowing that you are potentially one step away from having to have your leg cut off at the knee, and that your mind is playing out every possible scenario, and neither of them include the people you were once close to, because frankly, you don't know if they really care or not. That is what my life has become. I spend all my time wishing that I could just wake up and for this all to have been a bad dream, but I can't. I'm stuck here in this existence, trying to put on a brave face for my entire family but on the inside my soul is like, weeping because I just don't have anyone to turn to. I have nowhere to go, but here; and even this is difficult because I hate being this vulnerable. Doing this makes me feel weak, and pathetic, and I hate it! I hate not having anyone, I hate how I can't just blend in with everyone else and just be a normal teenager and go out and have fun without having to worry about the consequences.