Happy days: #2

Sunny days when you've got nothing to do but take advantage of the good weather. Taking too many photos just so you can document your silly nights out (or piece them back together the morning after.) Having someone you genuinely could tell anything and everything to, and not worry. Being so comfortable with where your life is going that you have a chance to breathe, (oh and potentially book a holiday, yay.) Anticipating summer 2014 to be the best yet. Grinning so much your cheeks ache and your jaw begins to seize up. Laughing so much that your stomach muscles feel like you've done three hours at the gym. Counting your blessings every single day that you have the most incredible people in your life, and they're happy to be there. 

Intoxicating.

Well, it's safe to say, I've just had the best New Year, ever. I'm so happy, my face is hurting because I can't physically stop smiling. The kind of happiness that you can't shift, even if you try. I've been wearing my best smile for about 72 hours now, even in the midst of one of the worst hangovers imaginable. The last few days have been a blur, a brilliant, surreal blur. I feel like it sort of all merged into one, happy, messy day. One person in particular is responsible for my Cheshire cat-sized grins, racing pulse and sheer volume of sleep deprivation. Someone who can potentially, (and is already) making me the happiest I've been in a hell of a long time. Someone who knows me better than most, and for some mad reason, doesn't want to run a mile at the prospect of being with me. I honestly can't imagine why, but I'm very happy that he thinks that. I feel a bit brainwashed. It's intoxicating. I feel totally drunk, even though I'm (yes, for the first time in 2014 I can say this and truthfully mean it) stone-cold sober. My face is aching, I literally haven't stopped grinning from ear to ear. I can't think straight, it's impossible to concentrate, I'm checking my phone every five seconds like I'm demented or something. I don't think I've took a breath properly in days. Everything just feels so right. It kind of makes me want to kick myself, I mean, if this is what I've been missing out on all this time, then I seriously must be mad. I have a deadline looming, and I want to abandon it, because there's somewhere I'd much rather be. I'm pretty ecstatic right now. There isn't anything or anyone that can shake this mood, and I'm so relieved. I feel like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I really am happy.

The simple truth.

The plain facts stand at this. You're the only person I'd answer my phone to at four in the morning and talk about anything and everything even though you're probably drunk. You make me laugh and think the world of me and things are just so much better when you're around. You have a unique ability to make me grin even at the smallest of things and I can't even explain why. Part of me is shy around you, and yet, you probably know me better than most people, and I love that. It means a hell of a lot that you know me, and don't want to run a mile. Christ, I want to run a mile from myself sometimes. You're someone I don't want to see walk out of my life. If I'm being totally and completely honest, you're one of very few people that I'd hold on tight to. I trust you, I love the way you make me smile, and the prospect of being without you is just grim. I find myself going red every time your name is mentioned, my stomach flutters and my tongue gets tied. I feel about fifteen again sometimes, it's funny. I'm stupidly insecure at times, and it's hard for me not to be, but I'm trying very hard. Secretly, or perhaps not so secretly now, I'm terrified. Terrified of messing up. Being the usual screw-up I always am. Especially when I know you think so much of me, I'm not sure I can live up to it. I mean, I hope I can. I want to. Who knew I'd be back here, and yet further forward than I've ever been. Silly little me is ready to take a risk, because if it pays off, it will be pretty incredible. 

Pendulum.

(Btw, this post has been posted like 20 hours later than it was written.)

It's nearing midnight and I've already been in bed, trying, somewhat hopelessly to make myself feel better. I'm experiencing such an awful cold. My chest feels like it will cave in at any moment, and my smoker-like cough isn't helping, despite the fact I've never ever touched a cigarette. It's exhausting. I keep temporarily losing my voice and become able to do that husky/whispery/creepy voice like Voldemort. Humorous at times, but the funny side begins to run thin when you're in as much pain as I am. I guess I have myself to blame, partly, and partly my stupidly, newly-weakened immune system, but I guess I can't always go around blaming biology when I mistreat my body as much as I have been. I'm armed with my iPod, 861 songs, god knows how many hours of music at my fingertips and strumming into my ears. Willing to try anything to make myself sleep now. I've had texting marathons, scoured Twitter for hours, watched the Friends two-hour finale and snippets from Peter Kay's Tour That Didn't Tour Tour (which I also can quote word-for-word!) I've doped up on painkillers, cough sweets and caffeine, and they haven't worked either.

So...Why is it partly down to me? What have I been up to to get myself in such a mess? My untimely, hideously rough state...Well. Little old me who vowed (stupidly, naively, hopelessly) to stay in on Friday night for a (miraculous) change, ended up out. Obviously. Anyone who knows me, knows I do not stay in on a Friday night, like, ever. Yes, I can sense your surprise already. Major shock. You best take a sear, we don't want you fainting on me now do we? There's a certain irony around the fact that I'm an English student and yet I don't seem to grasp the meaning of "just a few drinks." I'm a very much all-or-nothing kinda girl. Not just with alcohol, with everything. I'm either hysterically upset and depressed and moody and sad and hateful, or I'm happy and high and smiley and loving and totally giddy. I either am (only occasionally) really careful with my money, or I manage to splurge every penny I have in my purse in ten minutes flat. I'm either quiet or really very loud. I either go bitchy or seriously nice. I went from being a shy girl to an overly-friendly drunk. How? I was introduced to a lovely little thing the Russians named Vodka. Cue my shy self to sometimes disperse completely, and my overly-friendly self to put in a sometimes unwelcome appearance.

I know what you're thinking; "okay, everyone's more confident when they've had a drink" or ten. Yes, that's why they call it dutch courage. Well, I'm certainly a shining example of what the effects of alcohol really are. If you're reading this and judging me, and ready to brand me an alcohol abuser, go ahead. You're wasting your breath, and energy. :) Anyway, yes, I have a tendency to drink too much, but I'm a student, it's part of the deal you sign when you apply with UCAS. (okay, it's an unspoken rule.) Anyhow, I tend to be what the Oxford Dictionary know as a "lightweight." I go from sober to drunk in the blink of an eye. I don't know why, but it's very rare I build up to a "drunk" state. I just somehow happen to arrive there, slightly clumsily, and without very little dignity in sight. I mean, suddenly you find yourself on your own, separated from friends, and it hits you. Everything goes blurry and seems to speed up then slow down and it's as if everything's out of sync or something. A very good, or a very bad feeling, depending on who you are and what your opinion actually is.

So, how does this relate to the post's title? Well, I got to thinking of a metaphor for my latest life events. Yes, it all sounds very geeky and deep and profound. I assure you that it doesn't tally. At first, I played around with the whole train-wreck/car crash image, but those were too miserable, too negative for what I was trying to convey. I mean, at times, yes, I suppose that applies, but my life isn't a constant train-wreck. I'm not always left picking up the pieces, hurt or distraught. And that's when it hit me. Literally. A pendulum. A pendulum, for anyone who actually doesn't know, swings backwards and forwards, according to the earth's gravitational pull. It is a constant. It carries on going. It is continuous, until it draws to a close, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. Surely that's like life, yeah? Also, it's kind of funny in my eyes that the word 'pendulum', derived from the New Latin 'pendulus' to mean 'hanging.' Yes. I'm not totally stupid, I know it means a literal form of hanging, as in, to be suspended from a height or a cord or something, but there's another meaning I'm probably more familiar with. 'Hanging' the slang use, to mean the verb of hungover.  Therefore, in my little, messed-up, slightly mad head, my life is like a pendulum. It rocks backwards and forwards. Sometimes the movements are easy and the action takes no effort at all, and other times, it's hard, difficult. The forces are imbalanced, everything seems a struggle. It's just like Monday mornings in physical action form, ey?

Anyway, that's my thing. That's my theory. I'm a pendulum. We all keep swinging. Swaying. Continuing. Life is just like the movement of a pendulum. The glitches are very evident sometimes, and other times you barely notice the faltering. If you hit something, it hits back. The domino effect. But always, the pendulum continues, despite what happens. Despite what obstacles it encounters. We carry on in life, no matter what troubles and problems we encounter. The bad days are balanced by the good days, the tears are comforted by the smiles and the laughter. And always, we carry on moving. Until, we don't.

You don't even know.

Every day that goes by that you fail to acknowledge my existence, a part of my insides begins to rupture. Breathing, just to get by, not to savor the cold, sharp in take of air, the freedom, the excitement, the sheer thrill in knowing your lungs not only exist, but thrive. That's what I wait for. Someone like you to sweep me off my feet, take my breath away, and yet still, I'm gasping. Still, the thrill is as real as ever and I'm the one standing on the edge of the curb at 4am with a bottle of Jack and skyscraper heels and overly-applied eye-liner, and I laugh drunkenly and almost topple off the curb-side, and there you are, miraculously; to catch me.

Nobody really knows how much someone else is aware of. So, start smiling.
Anything is possible. I realise that now.

The good things in life: #1

I love the sunny days, and the tan I currently have, and the way I can drink too much and my inability to cope with hangovers, and lovely texts and vodka and singing badly to your favourite song. I love that everyone I know understands what "beer garden weather" is, and what to do when the sun puts in an appearance from behind those wretched clouds. I love long days and sleepless nights and the fact that Pretty  Little Liars stars again next week, and that I'm going to see Bon Jovi on Thursday. Imagine that. I'm going to be in the same room with Jon Bon Jovi (okay, technically its a stadium and there's like twenty thousand other people, but it's still fabulous.) I love people who have the ability to make me smile effortlessly, and good hugs and the people you can count on when your world falls apart. I love getting closer with my family and cherishing the happy times. I love the fact it's just under a month until I go to Ibiza, and I've bought next to nothing. 

I'm going to try and do one of these whenever I feel rubbish. It makes me feel better. The good things in life, we shouldn't forget. 

Smile Like You Mean It.

Lately, for no particular reason, I've caught myself out. I've been getting on with whatever task I'd decided needed to be done, then for a moment, stopped. Interrupted myself, as it were. Looked up, caught my reflection in a mirror, or a car window, or a spoon, and realised I was doing it again. Smiling. No, scratch that, grinning. Maybe just because it was sunny, or because I'd got out on the right side of bed, or simply because I received a text that gave me a reason to be happy. No one close to me would admit it out loud, but I've got the tendency to be a miserable, pessimistic bitch when it suits me, or sometimes when it doesn't. It's not intentional. I tell myself I'm a realist, but really I'm not. I'm a wary optimist, with a hint of naivety and a few spoonfuls of sweet enthusiasm. I like to be happy. You're thinking, who doesn't, right? Well, this for me, is quite an achievement. I'm not saying I spend the majority of my waking hours with a down-turned facial expression, as this isn't true, but when I'm happy, you'll know about it. I flash an over-sized grin, I even walk with a spring in my step, and I'm just altogether a better, more upbeat person when I'm wearing my best smile. It seems like it's my best accessory lately, and I secretly think I know the reason. I guess I have to be careful. Smiles fade as quickly as they appear. Maybe this one will last. I hope.

"Only the insane equate pain with success."