I love books. For as long as I can remember when things have got tough for me, or the real world has become to much, I can bury my head in the safe world of a book. I can lose myself for hours in these worlds, that seem so real, I can feel for the people believe they are real. See them in my head, imagine the story playing out in my head. I sometimes think my need to escape the real world has held me back in actually learning to deal with things. Instead of facing the problem head on I will ignore it till it goes away, or even if it doesn't go away, just ignore it. I'm good at hiding my emotions. I can appear to be the most uncaring, heartless person, but underneath I can be breaking. It's all part of the ignoring things concept. If I actually acknowledge them feelings and show them, then I would have to deal with them. Some things happen, and I fear that if I acknowledge them and feel them, and show emotion, that I will never stop. If I let myself cry, I don't think I'll ever stop. I sometimes wonder if my life was a book, how it would read. Some days I think I have the most mundane, boring life possible. Someone recording my day to day habits would probably agree. I am a creature of habit. My days are set out in a certain way. For someone that doesn't get up and go to work that can sometimes be a difficult task. I remember reading the book 'about a boy' where Will ( I think that's his name) says he splits his day up into 30 minute activities. Sometimes an hour can be just to intimidating. I know how he feels. My days are worked out, and as I said they are pretty boring. There are other times however when I think the things that go on im my life are pretty unbelievable. That they come straight out of a Jerry Springer show. These are usually the times I am busy burying my head in the sand, but I can't completely ignore them.
Today was a traumatic day. Something that I have been ignoring for a long time blew up, and there was no getting away with it. So what do I do in times of trauma? I get a book out. That's what I did. The world (at least my world) was falling apart around me and I ignored it. Getting lost in this other world. I remember when I was at school, I was the English class nerd. Because for so long I had read books, I was way ahead of everyone else, in terms of what I classed as a good book. The English teacher saw this, and introduced me to this book. I don't remember what the book was called, or even who the author was. I do remember this was the first time I was challenged by a book. It was about different generations of a family and how they dealt with their lives. I remember my English teacher asking me what kind of books my family read, I responded that my Mum was quite a fan of Catherine Cookson books, which Mum isn't? My English teacher turned her nose up at this, laughed slightly, and said in quite a condesending manner, I meant what critically acclaimed authors do they read. I didn't really understand this at the time. I snubbed Catherine Cookson for a while, until I decided that I would have to decide for myself, and after reading one of her books I doubt I'll be doing it again. Having said that I have realised that I don't always like books that challenge me. Sometimes I need that easy read. I enjoy trashy books too. Usually when I am hiding they are the books I am more likely to pick up. They stop me from thinking. Thinking is my worst enemy. I can think up whole scenarios in my head, and think about them so much that I can begin to believe there is an element of truth to them. I am my own worst enemy.
Im twenty one and I know that there is already a few people who are disappointed by me. I guess in ways I have disappointed myself. In alot of ways I am lucky. To do well at school I never had to try that hard, so I didn't. In comparison my sister worked really hard, and she always has. Her ethic is to work hard and it will come to you. My ethic is more like, why work hard when you've already got it. I remember a time when my parents used to brag about me. I'd here them tell their friends about me, what awards I'd won at school, how well I'd done. When I was younger I was so much more open to things. I believed I could change the world. I miss that feeling. That feeling that my dreams are ahead of me. I'm losing hope. Yet I'm still so young. I had to so many dreams, I still do. The difference is, that back then I believed I could achieve them. My English teacher, who was a great inspiration to me, thought I had talent. She said I was a true poet. I gave up on poetry a long time ago. I don't think I have that poetic flow. Where at the start it's all confused, yet in a few lines they tie it all up. I am far to much of a waffler for poetry. She inspired me. I know if she knew I'd given up she would be disappointed. Then there was my Media studies teacher. She is definetly disappointed in me. The only people worse than those with no talent, are those that never realise their talent. She had so many high hopes for me. Filled me with false illusions. I can't tell you where it all went wrong. I reached a comfort zone. I sold myself short, and in that time I disappoined alot of people. People who believed in me. To see them disappointed in me was to much. Now I prefer people to under estimate me, that way there is no room for disappointment. If people see I really am a loser they will be happily surprised when I prove them otherwise.
All great stories have love in them. Well most of them. Because love it's self is such a drama. Growing up I have always had stong views on love. My parents met young, married young, had children young, and probably spent the next twenty years bitterly regreting it, while acting blissfully happy. I know I have spent many an article going on about my views on love, so I will try not to bore you. Somthing about love is eating me up at the moment. There is a man in my life that I told I loved. I think to say them words to anyone you have to mean them. People say them all to easily, and I refuse to be that person. Yet I fear I have lied to him. How do I know this? Because I find them words difficult to say to him. I can't just say them, and when I do, it doesn't feel right. I think I know why. My feelings for this man I don't deny, and I feel very strongly for him. Rationally thinking, I don't think it is full blown love. I think it's the start of what becomes love. I think the seed is there waiting to be watered, but before I can feel that love, certain things have to change, or need to change. In all relationships, no matter what level they are, I have held myself back in one way or another. This is no different. This man is like no other I have come across, and he infuriates me in ways he only could. Yet I know that he is special, and I want the chance for this love to grow. Yet with him, as I do with everything when things become tough I bury my head in a book and ignore them. That is what I have done with him. Just ignored things. I have this great thing in front of me, that I can almost touch, but yet for some reason I'm holding myself back. I think he's made me into the thing I hate most, a woman who emotionally is at his mercy. I remember thinking when I was younger that I would always be a strong independent woman and I would never bow down before any man. As time has passed I have realised that there is such a thing as give and take. For you to back down sometimes can actually make you stronger. I don't know why I always view these things as if they were a power struggle. I want this man so much, yet there is still so much about him that confuses me, that I question. I sometimes think he is winning the power struggle, and I have become one of these women I hate, that just takes it, and accepts it, because she is to weak to do anything else. Then sometimes I remember that things aren't his way. That if I did do everything he said, this situation would be completely different. That doesn't mean I am winning though. Far from it. I am winning the battle but losing the war. I love that saying. I always forget the bigger picture. I can't see passed my own nose. Which is a perfect time to say this article is so self absorbed, I know.
I love disagreeing with him. I don't know what it is but I think I enjoy the fight. I like hearing it in his voice when he's trying so hard to stay patient, but the more I push and the more I disagree he loses it. Always makes me smile. He does the same to me. He can cut his emotions off alot easier though. Where as I can't. I'm at my best when emotionally charged. We argue to much though. I think it's both of us burying our heads and ignoring what is right in front of us. So instead we go to safe ground and do what we both know we're best at, which is disagreeing. We don't have a proper friendship. Not that I could actually define what a proper friendship is, but I know we don't. We have our own unique way of doing things, which is what I like. I have questioned myself alot recently about this man. I have noticed alot more feelings of jealousy, me getting annoyed with him a whole lot easier. I even considered that I liked the idea of him, more than I actually liked him. I considered that one for a long time. There is no feeling I can express here, that in words would do justice for how I feel for him though. I can't explain it. I know this will sound soppy but he is a gift. A gift that may not last forever. It may not even get the chance to last, but he is a gift. He is amazing. In a caveman kind of way. Hehe. I can't even say why he is amazing, just simply in my eyes he is. At this moment in time I'm not too pleased with him, but he makes me melt. He makes my heart stop, he makes me tingle, he makes me laugh, he makes me cry. He makes me. He is my gift. I'm just not to sure I am his. You know I sit and think to myself how can he possibly walk the streets, how can he talk to people, and they somehow don't see how amazing he is, they don't see what I do. I just don't get it! Why are people not dropping at his feet. I know I'm some love sick, emotionally distressed teenager.
You know I find it hard to do more than one thing at a time. I can half give myself to quite a few things at the same time, but can only fully give my attention to one thing. Which now I've wrote it looks quite logical. However, I can't think and write at the same time. Well I can, I can wing it slightly. Usually though it has to be something that I have thought about before hand. That I have considered in my head, and I have some kind of format to go by. After reading my book today, I did my favourite thinking hobby, and went for a walk. It was late evening. You know I am sure I am missing daylight at the moment. It never seems to be light. I quite liked it though. It was pitch black, just a dark blue sky. No stars either. Just a clear sky. I walked for a while, and thought. It wasn't even cold. My parents are on the verge of splitting up. They quite simply don't like each other anymore. I always truely believed in their marriage. To be together so long (thirty years) and to share what they have. I just don't understand it. I should of guessed. They don't spend alot of time together. They aren't that interested in each other, the only interests they share are in relation to us, their children. Things have been awful here recently, a really bad atmosphere, that for the most part I have ignored. Except that I have been asked to pick sides. Which is ridiculous. My Dad left yesterday and hasn't returned. I haven't really expected him too. My Mum has become very bitter and twisted about it. I think she was the one that wanted to leave. That it would make some kind of huge statement, but he beat her to it. After all it is just a power struggle. I love my Dad dearly. Me and my Mum haven't always seen eye to eye. She tried talking to me today about her problems with my Dad. Maybe I am blind, maybe because he is my Dad I can't see the bad. Or I don't want to, but I found it tough to give her sympathy and that was what she needed more than anything. I couldn't do it though. Instead of dealing with the situation, I went and hid in a book. While she cursed and screamed, and hated the world. Then I went out for my walk, when I returned she was gone. Now this is going to sound incredibley selfish, but I don't feel like they left each other, to me, it looks like they both just left me. My Mum is at her Mums, getting the tlc she needs. My dad is staying with a friend, getting rid of the stress that living here has given him. And me? Well I am sat in a big empty house typing to you JU.