Memories stick.

Sat in my room when a song comes on and a tear pricks my eye. It's amazing what can make you react, and you don't even realise it. I always like to think I am in control of my emotions and actions, but really, that's a really bad attempt at a façade. A line of a song, a look, a smile, a Friends quote, an act of kindness, a bitchy comment, a noise, a face, a single word, a smell, a taste, a laugh, a voice. They can all change you. And they all have at one point in your life, regardless of your self-control. Don't sit and shake your head indignantly at me and tell me you aren't always changing, because you change every single day.

The line of a song would be from Sweet Caroline, because you never knew it was his favourite song until it was too late. You never had chance to sing with him and hold his hand and tell him it was yours too.

A look from someone who just sees things in you that you never thought possible will boost your confidence and make your doubts excel at the same time, because its all so new to you.

A face you haven't seen in a while crops up in a busy crowd, and maybe you don't talk now, maybe it's just been too many years to fix things between the pair of you.

The smile on the face of the person who loves you the most, or the person who has never been more proud of you in their entire life, it's priceless. It makes you get your arse into gear, step up, get a grip of your life and act like someone who deserves the acknowledgement.

A Friends quote you share with a certain person, reminding you of a time when you've really never laughed as hard. You'll cherish it, and do anything to maintain it.

The act of kindness you never saw coming and you chastise yourself for it, like it makes you cynical or something, when in fact it makes you human. You learn to see the best in people, rather than the worst.

The bitchy, nasty comment a friend makes to you crushes your insides and shatters the relationship you once had. It will never be the same after that day, and maybe that's the best. Cutting out damaging people is a step forward, not a step back.

A noise that will always make you smile; an applause, a congratulatory nod in your direction to let you know that the hard work, late nights and sacrifices do pay off.

A word that sends your brain into overdrive for so many different reasons, it makes your stomach churn and your head ache and your chest go tight and yet, it's all okay.

A smell that makes your eyes widen and your mouth water and your whole body ache to be somewhere else, with bright lights and good people and amazing wonderful things.

A taste you never forget, its bitter at first until you get used to it, and then you learn to love it. You drink it black now, and it makes even the worst days better.

A laugh that echoes further than you could even imagine. The most contagious thing you've ever come across and you can't actually remember a time when it wasn't in your life. She makes you laugh more than anyone, and she's basically your best friend, not just your sister. Nothing will ever be funnier than a joke shared with her.

A voice you adore. His voice. The way it dances in octaves when he's talking about something that excites him. The way he whispers something wonderful. The huskiness of breathing 'I love you.'

It's mad how things stick in your mind. For good or bad reason, memories stick. Some are hidden, granted, but most come out to play when that song comes on, or your hear someone's name uttered, and maybe that's just it, - your memories may fade but they don't disappear. And usually, I'm thankful they don't.

Songs for every occasion.

That, is one of my grandmas favourite and frequented sayings. (The Moon to my Duffy, FYI.) 

After what has been a tough few days for some of my closest people, (Grey's reference, IKR) I got to thinking about songs, and how they remind you of a certain person or situation. These are important to me in some ways. 

Neil Diamond's Sweet Caroline will always remind me of my grandad. My dad's name is mentioned, and I hear a library of music play, from Bob Marley, to Madness to Kaiser Cheifs (the really, really old stuff.) My best friend, Betty, will always be seen as The Killers' Somebody Told Me, after all, who else can I air-guitar down the front street with on a Saturday night. My sister is seen in various colours; she's Pretender by Foo Fighters, Phil Collins' In The Air Tonight and Gabrielle Aplin's version of The Power of Love. She's also the likes of SHM and Armen Van Buuren, LMFAO and 1D's Little White Lies, Michael Jackson's Smooth Criminal, Katy Perry's Dark Horse and more recently, What Do You Want From Me? By Monaco. My mam will always be met with the classic and soundtrack to her favourite film; Goo Goo Dolls' Iris, while the song that always makes me think of my grandma is Don McLean's American Pie (a really rather tipsy karaoke singalong one Christmas.) Robbie Williams' Come Undone is the song that makes me think of my boyfriend, Lukas, as we just so happened to tweet the entire song lyrics to one another pre-us getting together. It's a long story, and I'm keeping it close to my chest. Steph's song is, and always will be David Guetta and Sia's Titanium, or perhaps Spectrum (Say My Name) by the one and only Florence and The Machine. Night's out will always be greeted with Katy Perry's TGIF or something like that. Nights spent in Brit are fuelled by The Beatles, Arctic Monkeys and of course, Club Tropicana. My auntie will always be I Gotta Feelin' courtesy of BEP. Now for the others. Flo Rida's Right around reminds me of an old friend, Sexy Bitch ironically reminds me of a distant friend, and Orson's Bright Idea will be a distant memory of someone I've grown apart from. Gives You Hell by All American Rejects signals heartbreak and tears, along with Taylor Swift's Fifteen. A massive shout out to Abi, someone I was friends with, and grew up with, throughout some pretty tough teenage years; the soundtrack of our youth looked a bit like this; Love Bites- You Broke My Heart, Alice Cooper- Poison (except I'm sure ours was the weird techno remake from Groove Coverage or someone), the total spoof of The Jam's Going Underground- London Underground, Special D- Come With Me, and of course, Scooter's Jumping All Over The World. (WHAT CAN I SAY, we were Chester kids!) While Jenny (Reece, yes that's you) will always make me think of Taylor Swift's old stuff. There are probably many, many more I'll think of by the time I publish this, but a little shout out to you lot in particular. I love you all, oh, and thanks for sticking by me until my music taste developed into something a lot more acceptable!!!!

Nostalgia is a dirty word.

I've done it again. Got all nostalgic. Caught myself looking through old snaps, and that strange mix of happiness and sadness crept up on me. And that stench drifting in, what was it? Regret. Denial. Horror. A mixture of all three. Those days. Years ago. The happier times. Or at least seemingly so. I seemed to worry less back then, I seemed to smile more, I seemed to be happier, more carefree. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I'm miserable now, or unhappy with where my life is at at the moment. It's just, every so often, that little bittersweet feeling of nostalgia kicks in, and gets me to reminiscing of simpler times. My "younger and more vulnerable years" as described by Nick Carraway in The Great Gatsby, were, to me, strangely some of my most daring and carefree. I guess it has something to do with age. 

At merely 14, the weight on my shoulders was less, light, easy to carry. I had less baggage, less experience of the world, less responsibility. I was naive, and thankful to be. The pressure was practically nonexistent. School was just somewhere to go to socialise with friends, the real work was yet to come. The real life was just around the corner. Experience of the big, bad world would be sooner than we expected. In the blink of an eye, we grew up. We aged overnight. Everything got serious, straight-laced, important. Those mid-term tests became exams, those spats with friends turned to unsettled feuds, those little jobs turned into big responsibilities. So, why now is everything different? As my teenage years are drawing rapidly to a close, (excuse me while I try not to dwell on this) why is it that I'm edgier than ever? 

The older we get, the more baggage we carry, and ultimately, the less willing we are to take risks. Why? Well I think I've figured it out. The older we are, the more we have to lose. At 19, I'm all too aware of what the big, bad world has in store, and sometimes, I'm not willing to take that risk, because there's just too much to stake. Even though I'm only young, there are certain things I'll hold on to tighter than ever, and not let go. It's also harder to say how you feel. Rejection, judgement and a thousand and one other factors come into play when you're in your latter teenage years. Those soul-destroying, stomach-plummeting moments we've experienced before, well, understandably we're reluctant to put ourselves in similar situations just in case the outcome matches up.

So, nostalgia really is a dirty word. It makes you bitter and confused and yet, at the same time, makes me want to get back to those days, those feelings of freedom. Throwing caution to the wind and risking everything you've got for something you want/need. Maybe it's time I did just that. For once, not concentrate on what's at stake, but what I've got go gain. Maybe if I play my cards right, it'll work out better than ever. 

Would you like a gag with that compliment?

Receiving a compliment is weird. It's kind of positive, but it's also kind of negative in one sense. While I like to think I'm quite good at accepting compliments, (not because I'm vain, or think the person is right in what they say) but purely because I think sometimes, it's better to accept a compliment, than deny it and somewhat publicly humiliate the complimenter by throwing it back in their face. Its like, that just isn't very polite. I also feel that if I deny a compliment, someone might actually take offense and feel that I'm being weird and stand-offish, when that wouldn't actually be the case.

Meanwhile, refusal to accept a nice remark or comment made by someone, whether it be a friend, relative or stranger, can actually make you question yourself further. Someone recently told me they thought I was pretty, and I immediately jumped up, defensively, and shrugged off their compliment, when deep down I could have (and should have) just smiled and realised that actually it was a nice comment coming from a nice place. While this person was complimenting me, I was going over and over in my head listing the things that were, in my opinion, wrong with myself, both internally and externally, and why, in my opinion, this comment was not fitting for little old me. Compliments are sometimes back-handed, yet this is unintentional. Cue a Mean Girls quote: "Oh my god, I love your bracelet, where did you get it?" and shrink back with disdain and hatred we collectively share for arch-nemesis and ultimate bitch, Regina George. What about these: "Is your hair different, it looks nice" makes you think "does it look a mess usually?" "Have you lost weight?" Is that a hint that you probably need to shed a few pounds? A comment on your physical appearance makes you feel analysed and subjected, and yet happy/sad/worried at the same time. I don't ever think I've had bundled of self-confidence, but every so often, there will be peaks and troughs, just a everyone has.

When someone comments positively about me, maybe I don't believe them because previously, someone who has said the same or a similar thing, turned out to be lying/not really bothered/not who I thought they were, so maybe their judgement isn't to be trusted. Am I afraid of what the compliment means, in both surface meaning and deeper meaning? Yes. What if someone I like tries to flatter me and I turn all gullible and believe every word they breathe in my presence, then later turn out to have been taken for a ride, and end up looking stupid and foolish. Yet another reason to avoid accepting and believing compliments. An outfit praise, a "thin" comment or a realisation that my hair is different to what it was yesterday can all spark the same gut-wrenching reaction. We jerk backwards. We recoil. We hide away from the positives and seemingly attract the negatives like magnets. It is, of course, proven that while you can receive a hundred compliments and doubt every single one, yet one insult or negative comment, and it will dwell and stay with you for years.

Ross: Rach, come on, look, I know how you must feel.

Rachel: No, you don't, Ross. Imagine the worst things you think about yourself. Now, how would you    feel if the one person you trusted most in the world not only thinks them too, but actually uses them as reasons not to be with you.

Ross: No, but, but I wanna be with you in spite of all those things.

Rachel: Oh, well, that's, that's mighty big of you.

Ross: You know what? You know what? If things were the other way around, there's nothing you could put on a list that would ever make me not want to be with you.

Rachel: Well I guess that's the difference between us. See, I'd never make a list.

Young, free and changeable: That is the question.

I'm a strong believer in the theory that people, despite what is said, can, and do, change. The old cliché is that, some people are destined to be the same selfish, back-stabbing, bitchy teens they always were. Young, free and reckless, yeah? Well, not always. People DO grow up, grow out of their "flaws" and realise their mistakes. I recently began exploring this sentiment, as it was relevant to something happening in my life. The question I raised with my closest friends was just that. Do you think people can change? And what was the answer I received? Yes. Of course they can. I would hate to think that there were people judging me on the mistakes I made in the past, as after all, they ARE in the past, not in the present. We all do stupid things we come to regret, and while some are more serious than others, I guess it's possible, no matter how much we like to think its untrue. 

We could all make potentially damaging mistakes in the heat of the moment, and would we really want our heads put on the chopping board for life, because of a Friday night's drunk antics, or a text you sent when you were pissed off, or the punch you threw in year nine over lunch? We all make mistakes and are, inevitably, all subject to prejudices. I truly do (and want to) believe that we can all learn from our mistakes, rather than repeat them over and over and over again. Maybe we shouldn't have to serve life-sentences for petty crimes, maybe we should be more forgiving, and maybe, just maybe, leopards really do change their spots. 

Don't kick me when I'm down.

The human body is only as resilient as the beating heart, or so it would seem. Humans, by default, are supposed to be resilient, easy-going creatures, who have the ability to pick themselves up, dust themselves off and plaster a smile on their not-so happy faces. But, how many times can you fall before you hurt yourself, how many times can you be kicked before you fall down, never to get up again?

Recently, I have experienced a handful of things, a huge variation of events, which opened my eyes to the fact that I, am not as resilient and adaptable as I'd like to believe. I'm what you could call a pessimist by default, but not without reason. Lately, I've had so many knock-backs (both mentally and physically) that I've found it hard to not dwell on the all-encompassing negativity in my life. Don't get me wrong, I fully realise the extent to which I am lucky, and appreciate what and who I have in my life, but for the last few weeks, I've been totally, utterly and completely miserable. There's only so many times that you can break down before it starts to get to you. I recently lost someone very special to me, which I have previously blogged about, and which I suppose, as it were, the last straw, the final, hard-hitting piece of news that would shatter my soul and my whole belief system, if only temporarily. To say I've had a really bad couple of weeks, would be like sugar-coating Hell, or putting lipstick on a Doberman (any shade) It just isn't right. It doesn't work.

You could say I haven't had much luck when it comes to romance. So much so, that that word makes me draw back with repulsion. For every time I've ever been lead on, or let down, or told I wasn't right, or good enough, I've come to HATE that beautiful thing we call romance. Cynically, I don't believe in it. I don't believe that there's such thing as soul mates or fated plans, written in our stars, because, if there is, why are there so many good people, unhappy and lonely? Is it just simply because they haven't found The One? I've been screwed over too many times to just think it coincidental, or a mere work of fate. It came to the point where I didn't know whether I believed in it at all. I was sat down with some of my friends, and we were discussing boys, and the conversation came to The Keeper, as it were, the relationship that belittles all predecessors. Cue another disgusted face, because frankly, sometimes, it's necessary. There's nothing more condescending or aggravating than when someone who's in a relationship just tells you "you just haven't met them yet" (to paraphrase Michael Bublé.) Especially when you're in a wounded sorta phase. 

I actually blame my ever-so-trusting self. That makes me want to curse in itself, because I feel like i'm being punished for being a normal (cue the laughter from anyone who personally knows me) trusting human being. However, it can and has been said, I have a slight tendency to be gullible. I trust people too easily, and then, for some mad reason, I'm surprised when they let me down. In a world where we're surrounded by romantic, lovey-dovey propaganda, it's hard not to fall into the jaws of The Romantic. I know this too easily. Something happened quite recently that not only maddened me to my core, but temporarily lose faith in that so-called True Love concept. I put my trust in someone who I believed to care about me, and instead, after months of lies and mockery, I realised that it was just one big, hilarious joke to him. This isn't the first, or probably the last time something like this will happen to me, but all the same, it was unnecessarily cruel. I don't understand why anyone, male or female, would lead someone on, lead them to believe that they felt something they didn't, and then, dispose of them when they've served whatever sick purpose that may be.

It's hard to put your feelings on the line. It's even harder if every time you do, you get hurt and treated badly. Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, or how long you persevere, there's always someone waiting to spoil your fun, break your neck or kick you when you're down. But, as we are, by default and necessity (with the combination of an open heart and a dash of hope) resilient, controlled little figures, we do what we know how to. We cry when we're upset, then seek consolation. We scream and shout and throw things and swear under your breath, or get drunk and stupid, rely on sarcastic texts and down-trodden glances. And in the end, we repeat. We DO pick ourselves back up, we DO dust ourselves off, and we DO slap a smile on our faces, and show them that no matter how much they try, or how hard they kick us, we will always, get back up again.

"YOU CAN'T BREAK ME."

Why so serious?

Remember those days, when you were about 14, and you and your BFFs would have gossipy sleepovers, paint each others' nails and talk into the small hours about that guy you sort of liked in your English class. Those were the days. When 'crushing' on someone didn't have to be a complicated, heart-wrenching, unhappy thing. It was light-hearted, fun and full of giggles and the exchange of stolen glances over the top of battered copies of The Tempest, brought out of their dusty home on the floor of the English cupboard. The feeling, seeing someone reciprocate a smile or even a small 'hello' would make your entire day. When did everything get so complicated?

At the somewhat grand (old) age of 19,  I wonder whether we long for the days that have already passed, the friendships we shouldn't have walked out on and the times that were altogether easier to cope with. I recently heard a song I hadn't heard for what must be five years, and it got me thinking of an old friend. We don't speak much anymore, not for any particular reason, we just grew apart as we got older. However, no matter how long had passed, or whatever disagreements we may have had along the way, none of that seemed to matter when I heard that song, everything was forgotten. It was as if I was back to an easier time.  When school days weren't full of stress and exams, when discussions about guys were naive and pain-free and when friendships were supposed to last forever. 

Everything changes when you reach a certain age. Being 14, so hung up on someone you know, getting carried along by the whole Will he/Wont he? argument you play over and over and over in your head. The funny times seem funnier, the sad times seem more trivial and the great times, seem, well, greater, because, back then, a lot of the serious stuff didn't matter. At 14, if you make a mistake, you can, and undoubtedly will, put it down to experience. Five years later, when you're messing up after god knows how many shots of gin and JD, everything seems threateningly serious. You're officially an adult at 19, you can drink, drive, gamble and vote. You can take out a mortgage or a loan or buy your own house. However, at 19, are we really ready to face the world and every ounce of responsibility that comes with it? Instead, we prepare to leave the nest, with arm-fulls of hope, a suppressed amount of fear, and every now and then, some necessary  dutch courage. 

From the days you spent pouring your heart out to your parents over some little spat with your BFF to the break-up of a 'relationship' at that age, looking back it all seems so innocent, so simple. Fall-outs over who wore the same outfit to someone's birthday party or the fact that two people share an interest in the same guy. No real fights, no bitter slurs and back-stabbing and spreading vicious rumours or brandishing her a "stupid slut." At 19, we hear it all of the time; Know Your Limits, Act Your Age, and Think Before You Speak. None of which were necessary rules to live by at the tiny age of one-four. Now crying over someone seems immature, being upset about having harsh words with friends seems futile, and saying stupid things seems, well, stupid. There are certain expectations everyone has of you after you reach a certain milestone.  Whether you fulfill them or not, is another matter entirely. 

Now, staying up all night, has entirely different connotations. Late-teens and Early-twenties are supposed to have reformed attitudes to things. Chasing someone you have feelings for, or in fact, being chased, suddenly becomes something a bit naive. It's like your unconscious is ready, on its haunches, to scream "GET ON WITH IT!" At fourteen, a love life was a big deal for most people, something you were ready to shout from the rooftops. But now, it's not like that. Little things aren't appreciated. That smile, the few seconds of eye contact, the first stages of getting to know someone, they seem to be swept under the metaphorical carpet of life, to gather as much dust as that battered old copy of The Tempest. Now, you find yourself saying "we just kissed" and watch listeners' eyes sort of glaze over, bored, as if they were expecting something juicier  It's just a stepping stone to something more, and I guess, in a way, it is, but also, it's kind of sad. How can something that used to be such a big deal, now mean so little to us a few years later? Cue our younger selves, bearing refreshing little grins and encouraging you to smile about it.

Your teenage years are supposed to be the best and the worst years of your life. I never really fully understood that until recently. All of the fun and the freedom, with none of the responsibility. As you get older, you're supposed to get wiser, but instead, you just invest more, you make more qualified choices, and when all else fails, you make worse mistakes than any mistake you every made as a teenager. Then again, i guess no one can make your mistakes for you, and you can never truly learn from someone else's. After all, what does it matter if, at nineteen, we still don't know when to stop drinking or realise when you're being played, we're still relatively young, so we'll use that excuse until it expires.

WHEN HARRY MET SALLY

(there will, undoubtedly be many more WHMS references as my blog proceeds!)

Harry: I'm not saying it didn't mean anything. I'm saying why does it have to mean everything?

Sally: Because it does, and you should know that better than anybody, because the minute it happens you walk right out the door! 

Young, free and legal: the perks of being 19.

I felt physically sick at the thought of turning nineteen. It was as if all of the hype surrounding turning 18 had vanished completely, and being one year older only meant one thing, the last stretch of the very much loved teenage years. However, six months later, I'm sort of coming round to the idea, there seem to be some perks after all.

Walking into a bar and flashing your ID with too much confidence, because you know fine well that the date and picture on the card are yours. 

Being the perfect age to distance yourself from school kids, but you still qualify as a 90's child. Meaning you don't feel ancient when you see that the Disney Channel is still showing re-runs of Fresh Prince of Bel Air, despite Will Smith not making an episode for sixteen years. 

Not worrying where or at what point you lost both your dignity and your phone last night, in between downing drinks and singing too loudly, because someone will be able to fill in the gaps, as soon as the photos are uploaded to Facebook.

Being 19, is, perhaps, a blessing in disguise. Sooner or later, the big 2-0 will be looming, and that will be a depressing year.