The Blog of denialsworld

The feeling is back. 

I had been doing so well so far.

Not once had I the desire.

I’m so scared.

 

I’m scared that I will keep trying and that eventually I will succeed and then I won’t stop.  What if I don’t stop?  What will I do then?  I can’t ask for help, I’m too scared to let anyone see this much of me.  But I can’t go through this alone.  I’m so scared, I don’t know what to do.  If I go with this, if I subject myself to this, if I stop fighting then everything will go wrong.  I know what it will do to me and I cannot allow myself to become like that.  It will be the last straw, I won’t be able to crawl out of it alone, but I will reject any help that eventually will be forced upon me.  I can’t become one of the girls I want to save.  I’m so scared. 

 

I need to ask someone for help, but I really do not know who.  The only people I trust enough I’m too scared to tell in fear they won’t help, then again also in fear they will.  I don’t know what to do; I just know I can’t keep doing this.  I can’t keep feeling like this and then just sitting in my room crying, clutching my stomach and digging my nails into my arms in an attempt to distract myself.  I can’t keep crying over the same people and the same memories.  I really don’t know what to do.  I need to ask for help. I’m scared.

 

I think i'm at breaking point. I think i'm at the stage where i actually need to talk to someone, but who? Who do i trust enough to tell my darkest secret, my worst fear and the terrifying thought that has grabbed hold of my attention for the past year, and refused to let go. I haven't told anyone so far because it has not bothered me (which in itself is terrifying) and because i'm scared; i'm scared that they will do nothing about it, but at the same time i'm scared they will do something and i'm scared they will tell someone but i'm scared they will walk away. I don't know what i want. All i know is that i'm scared and i'm alone and i'm at the point of pain. It's weird that this is just the same as i have done before but this time it physically hurts-but i'm not prepared to stop. It's scary. Really scary.

Everytime something goes wrong, everytime i'm hurt, everytime i'm messed around, everytime i'm given the wrong idea, everytime i wish i could turn back time i want it, more and more. I can't do what i want to straight away, i'm just not good enough and instead i have to sit there and feel the disgust in myself rise rapidly; and not be able to do anything about it-which just makes it worse. I'm stuck in a cycle i can't get out of and i simultaneously hate it and love it at the same time. It is such an awkward situation to be in. To love something and want it so much that it scares you and you hate it.

Today i cried. Not because of him so much, but because of this. I cried about it for the first time. And i cried hard. I cried for everything. For all the hate and all the unrequited love and all the fear and all the self-hate and all the times i've been hurt and all the times i hurt and all the times i held it in and all the times i let it out and all the times i miss and all the times i regret and all the times i want back and all the times i would live forever. But it didn't fix anything, it only made me look down on myself. It may have made me feel better for now, but the feeling will return...soon.

I know that if i could go through with my initial reaction to problems, if i was capable of it, then i would become one of them. Eventually i will figure out how to do it, i can't live with this disgust any longer and i know that that will help get rid of it; though mentally it will probably destroy me. But who do i have to save me? The only one who would understand is no longer someone i trust, i don't know who she is anymore. I thought about telling someone, i'm glad i haven't. He is the wrong person to choose to talk to. Soon i will learn to hate him. Soon i will block him out. Soon i will be over him. I hope. He can't know, not after what he did to me, not after the way he toyed with my emotions and messed me around. No. I need to find someone else, i don't want to and that is what has been holding me back. But if i don't tell someone soon, i don't know if i will be able to cope with it. I need someone to save me.

I can't do this anymore. I can't fucking do this anymore.

The Uber Tall One and the Supposedly Short One.

There was a so called short girl, who met a very tall boy. The boy was so tall that the girl could not even rest her head on his shoulder. They got along swimmingly. Many a laugh was laughed, many a poke was poked and many a cuddle was cuddled, oh and many a fringe was messed. All was well. UNTIL... Until one day, walking through the city centre arm in arm as you do, they spied a person. But this was no ordinary person. This was a boy. But he was no ordinary boy. He was very very tall. So tall in fact that he was even taller than our boy. Now this is not allowed in any story, ever. So the two attacked their fellow stranger and broke his legs, so that he would never walk again and so our boy stayed the tallest boy to walk the land, or any land really...except maybe the giants land. So off the two walked. Talking and singing and hugging and dancing merrily along their way. They were in their own world, oblivious to all those running around them, except for the fat ones, the ugly ones, and the ginger ones, for they were laughed at plenty. Eventually they came to a dead end in the road and had to turn back. They turned around, but as they did so several dark shadows descended among them. They lifted their eyes and found several large people. These people were very angry at how the two friends had treated their friend and so wanted revenge. They had to think quickly. There was very little time before they would be attacked. Suddenly out of the corner of her eye, the girl saw something glisten. 'Perfect!' She though and quick as a flash raced and grabbed the gleaming empty tin can. She was indeed so fast that only her friend noticed she had disappeared briefly. The girl pulled her bus pass and a key out of her pocket and miraculously made a handy hand-made bomb. She threw it at her fellow attackers, who, taken by surprise, began to play catch amongst themselves; you see they were so tall that they were stupid too; this could be for a number of reasons of which i shall leave to your imagination. The two friends escaped easily and managed to enjoy a frappuccino from Starbucks before the bomb blew up.

Everyone died.

THE END.





To My Sophie, The Wife.

Once upon a time there were two girls. Very amazing girls at that. They were so amazing in fact that only they could understand each other and their randomness. Well needless to say these girls were friends. Many times did they laugh, and well laugh really. One girl learnt that without the other girl she would become an STD ridden pregnant prostitute, who could not walk in heels and would ultimately fail at life. So she was forever in debt to her friend for showing her the way through life. Oh she also learnt that Easter is actually, really, about underwear, however the occassional binge of chocolate is perfectly acceptable. Well one day the girl, in a fit of..rage i guess..that the two were not engaged built a bomb. T0o build this bomb she used a rubber bracelet, some sellotape that says 'Fragile' on it and some plutonium which she happened to have lying around the house. Well this bomb was planted in a strategic place, being the neighbours bath. Just as the girl pressed the big red button which set off the timer which then set off the bomb the doorbell rang. It was the other girl, who, as soon as the door opened, got down on bended knee and asked to be married at once. Luckily an elvis vicar from vegas was walking past and agreed that he would marry the two at once. The vows were said and at that moment the bomb blew up. Everyone died. THE END.

The Bandits-The Story.

Once upon a time there was a very ordinary Bandit. This bandit was very ordinary. So ordinary in fact the bandit was boring. So boring that the bandit put hiself to sleep when he spoke. Now this bandit was ordinarily walking down an ordinary road in a very ordinary way. UNTIL he spied another bandit. Our bandit had never seen another bandit before, he was in awe at her beauty and intelligence and her monocle skills. Straight away he could tell that she was not ordinary, this could have been by the way she was dancing with a rubber chicken and talking to it more than the others around her. He plucked up the courage to talk to her, and in his ordinary way said 'Good afternoon. How are you?' To which she replied with a lions roar.



They spent many a happy evening together after this, talking poetry, Shakespeare and windows. The two soon got married and had three very intelligent children, who all spent their time reading and playing Bach at the age of 2 months. However then another child came. This child was stupid, and so, embarassed by it's lack of intelligence, they shut it away. Very much like Mrs Rochester in Jane Eyre. This child became a tobboo in the bandit household.



The child became very angry at it's family and so plotted its revenge. It made a cunning bomb out of cunnin paper and cunning blu tac which it found lying around the house while the others were out. It planted the bomb in the flower pot by the kitchen door, and there was a wire that ran from the flowers to the oven and the oven was attached to the tv. So once the tv was turned on, the oven burst into flames lighting the wire which burnt to the bomb, blowing up the world.

Everyone died.

THE END.





The Story of Mali and Alexx.

There was once a very pretty girl, who met a very odd boy. The circumstances under which they met matters not for this story, all you need to know is that they soon became very good friends; best friends some would say. Many a phone call was enjoyed by both and a promise was made. The boy promised to make this girl smile every time he spoke to her. And so it went on. A year later he kept his promise and the girl smiled often as a result. All was well in the world UNTIL....



UNTIL a rather large, some may say huge, monster attacked the city of Manchester and the friends absconed from the area. The ran all the way Cluj, because the name looked good. And yes, they could run so fast they could run on water, and in a matter of years they arrived at their destination. By now the monster had destroyed their beloved home, and many of their friends had fallen under its control. They were both very angry at this and so decided to draw up a plan, on A3 yellow paper using blunt pencils and blue biros that were about to run out. Now the girl dislikes A3 paper, blunt pencils blue pens and above all biros. But they had to make do, however lots of complaining resulted from this. The two designed the best bomb ever seen by...well the two friends as they had never seen a bomb before. Their bomb was made out of aluminium dr pepper cans, sticks and the run out biros. It was magnificent! They hurriedly sent it in the post, with the address: 'Mr. Monster, Greater Manchester, Manchester, Lancs, UK, M1' And they gave the bomb a four month time delay, as they could not guarantee that Royal Mail would get it there in a matter of days, despite the first class stamp. Four months later the bomb arrived. The monster opened it and it exploded.

Everyone died.

THE END.

 

The Story of SuperAlexx and SpiderWill - there is no relevance to superhero's or powers in this story.



There were once two friends. A girl and a boy. One evening the girl picked up the phone and convinced the boy to go to the cinema the next day, so that she could see the last film containing dancing. Now the boy agreed and all was well.



The next day the girl wandered into town in her fabulous shoes, yet her fellow friend still towered over her. The two magically appeared outside the cinema, realising that they had to wait over two hours for their film. But all was well as the boy knew how to gain a free drink from the machine...however the girl had to pay for it. The next two hours were spent talking and listening to music and raving-ultimately. The two friends became bored and having nearly removed each others thumbs from thumbcuffs they began to plan how to become less bored.



The girl, soon thought of something. She hurried off, returning hours later with a cardboard box, a plastic spoon and a hair bobble. Straight away the friends set to work. Within a matter of days they finsihed their master piece. They stood back to admire their creation, just then their creation exploded; as it was a bomb. Everyone died.

THE END.





The Story of the Heroes.

Once upon a time there was a girl, a very phitt girl at that. She met another girl, and the chemistry between them brought them together, and soon they were best friends. They soon became hero's. The girl found out something interesting about the other girl, and ever since has been gagging to see her cunt. This miraculous occasion has not happened yet, however one day it will. I promise.



Anyway, these two girls raved and danced and sexed it up any chance they could. Until one day a proposition was made that could not be refused. The phitt girls ran away to Scotter, because it sounded funny, where they became lesbians together. They then miraculously produced children, through no use of child birth and that ridiculous part where you carry it around inside you for nine months. These children were retarded. They ran around with their underwear on their head.



Little did they know it was illegal in Scotter for this sort of behaviour to be carried out in public, and so they were chased out of town and had to hide in Niger [i think it's like a country or something lmao] where they plotted their revenge on the people of Scotter for doing what they did to them and their children.



They made a bomb. A nuclear bomb. Out of string, leaves and vaseline. They threw said bomb over the sea where it landed on Scotter town hall. Blowing up the world.

Everyone died.

THE END.

To The Neo

There was once a girl, and even a boy. The two became friends and spent many an evening bitching, as there was very little else they could talk about. So they bitched and bitched and bitched, till they could hardly bitch anymore.



Well one day, they were both annoyed at the situations they were currently in. They weren't sure how much longer they could cope and so they considered....plotted may be a better word...how to fix these rather awkward situations. They realised that anyone remotely related to these situations must no longer be, however the two friends lived in an area where everyone knew everyone, and so the list of those that must 'go' grew longer, until they ran out of A4 paper. And refusing to use A3 paper the girl came up with a masterful plan! It would erase both their problems at once! Brilliant!



So the two disappeared brifely to attain the objects needed. They returned with bags full of furry pencil cases, dental floss, salt, safety pins and chocolate chips. The chocolate chips were purely to snack on while they assembled their device aka their bomb. Once it was assembled they wrote 'HAHA i win' across it, and then admired their creation, well de-creation technically. They planted their bomb in the flower bed of a 1960's council house in Bolton. After a delay of 23.456 seconds the bomb blew up.

Everyone died.

THE END.

 

 

I’m scared, more than I ever have been. I can almost feel it creeping up on me with its vicious claws ready to grab hold of me, and to never let go. Part of me isn’t scared; but this just frightens me more. There is no way this can happen to me, not with what I want to do, who I want to be and who I don’t want to be. I can’t turn into her. I won’t turn into her. I have to fight it, but part of me feels almost…hope by it, yet all evidence contradicts what that corner of me believes could happen, which is exactly what it wants. Fight Alex, fight. I don’t want to become weak. I have to stay strong. I say this to myself each and every day, but my own reply is simply, ‘But why?’ To this I have no response, just that I shouldn’t fall into it; it won’t make anything easier, only harder. It will only mess me up more, make the world unbearable to live in. It will make me say similar things to my close friends, as she once said to me. I can’t put them through that; I can’t let them be haunted by those words. Yet one corner of my mind has already slipped into that mind set, and it’s telling the rest of me that it is all right, I’m allowed. All evidence contradicts what I’m trying to convince myself. Fight Alex, fight. I don’t want to be controlled, especially by that. I don’t want to go through what she went through; it was hard enough from my viewpoint. I don’t want to end up as just another statistic, just another teenage girl for people to read about in magazines and tabloid newspapers, before forgetting about me only minutes later. I’m not entirely sure how it started, or why it started, though I could take a good guess. Just the same reason as all the others. I’m slowly becoming one of the girls I want to save, I’m slowly becoming just someone else going through the stages and the torment and the deceiving and the lying, and I don’t deserve it. Fight Alex, fight. I can’t let them down again; I can’t allow her to look up to me if I fall into it. I can’t let anyone know if it happens, in fear they will walk away. There is no evidence to contradict that last statement. Fight Alex, fight. I already know it will make me feel more isolated and feel more helpless and weak, but I also know the happiness that will come from it, and I want to experience it. But once I start; I don’t stop. I know that, it’s common sense. Once I start I feel good about what I’ve done, I hide it more, knowing it is wrong but not wanting to lose that feeling, I push myself away harder to make it easier to hide, and I do it more and more. I don’t stop; I know that. It’s common sense. Fight Alex, fight. My attempts so far have failed, but I just try harder next time; eventually I won’t fail, eventually I’ll succeed. I need to stop before I start, but it’s hard. I need it. I crave that feeling that I know I will have once I have succeeded, I want that feeling, I need it. My failed attempts simply frustrate me; I need to find another way, but I’m so aware of what it will bring down upon me, I’m so aware of the fact that I can’t walk into this and be able to walk out of it. Fight Alex, fight. The more things seem to go wrong, the more I feel like I want to because I know it will make me feel better but I also know it will not help in the long run. It will just make it worse. I need to get out of this way of thinking, but every time I try to I just feel disgusted with myself at what I’m doing. I’m not entirely sure what I’m going to do. I’m in the middle, on the edge. Half way between content, with everything going as it should be, and disappointed, with everything going wrong. I’m not sure which side of the line I will end up on, but either way I’m going to have to be tough. I should ask for help, but I don’t want anyone to know; I don’t want anyone to know me that well. I can’t put myself in that position, I’m too scared they’ll use it against me. Fight Alex, fight. I know someone who would understand more than anyone but I can’t turn to her anymore, and I’m scared that if I tell people I will end up like her; I can’t let that happen. I hate this, so much. I hate how it makes me feel, how I feel so alone, how I feel I have no one to turn to. Fight Alex, fight. But how much longer?
 
I want it all to stop. I want it all back. I want to not regret.   I want to actually feel a part of something. I want to not feel alone. I want to laugh so hard I cry. I want to not feel like this. I want to not be scared. I want to have it all. I want to be proved wrong.

Why, may i ask? Do we all insist on having boyfriends, or girlfriends, when we just know that we are going to be hurt by them. Sure we feel good, and happy, and full of life while we're going out with them, but as soon as they start humming a different tune we spiral downwards. We become paranoid that we've done something wrong without realising it, or worse they've done something wrong and have a guilty conscious. We worry for hours, days, possibly weeks, worst case scenarios run through your head for all this time. We are terrified of our next encounter, scared that they will stil be different but praying it will have fixed. We worry about if we should break up with them; what's the point if you just feel miserable? But you don't want to, you care about them, you don't want to lose them. What to do? What to do? You try and talk to them, but they're not spilling. You keep trying but you don't want to feel desperate. So do we just give up? I don't know. I'm still wondering why we've bothered to go through this pain; we knew it was going to happen. Is that week, or month, or several months if you're lucky, of happiness really worth feeling this miserable?

Isn't it weird? Isn't it fascinating? How something can change our mood to the complete opposite end of the scale. One second you're on a high, the smile hasn't been off your face for days but the reason for your smile is the reason for the switch. Them not seeming themselves upsets you, scares you, shakes you to the core. You're literally shaking, nearly in tears. What's wrong? But they deny anything is wrong. Yet you know something is, you can feel it. Have you done something wrong? Have they done something wrong? Your mind is just a whirlwind of worst case scenarios. They say goodbye, with not so much as a 'ly' and your eyes well up, yet no tears will fall. The only thing running through you head now is thoughts of losing them, and how much you don't want to. You're almost in fear of the next time you see them. They didn't seem too excited at the prospect of seeing you, how will they act with you? Will it be ok? But of course all you can imagine is them ignoring you, and ruining your night. Everyone just tells you you're being paranoid, but are you? The last time someone acted like this with you, you lost them. How do you know his will be different? However you hope, you pray, it is. But after a while, after a few minutes sat in the dark trying to shed a tear and shaking, after mulling over your conversation, your sadness turns to anger. How dare they act like that to you when you have done nothing wrong! It's not your fault the laptop wasn't working, or you were out, or your phone wasn't working, so you couldn't speak to them for two days. How dare they remove your name from their screenname! Now all you can imagine when you think of your next encounter is arguments, is you letting it all out. However at the back of your mind are questions asking 'Why they acted like that?' and 'If there is something you've done?' and it brings up old wounds, of insecurity, self-hate, the fact you're weak and scared, the fact you think like an anorexic but just don't have the will power to become so, and you make yourself feel sick because of it. No one knows this. Maybe no one ever will. It would mean truly opening up to someone, letting them crawl inside you and clasping their hand around your heart. And now you feel numb. You're not upset, nor angry anymore, just a little nauseated. Maybe it will fix itself. You hope it will fix itself. After all that's why you felt like this in the first place. Fear is a strange thing, yet people are unpredictable and you can't always prepare for how they will act.







p.s. Please let it fix. I'm too weak to be on my own.

 

I realised today, well so much realised but it really started to hit home, that I’m losing my best friends.  And there is nothing I can do about it.  My best friend, Sarah, I’m closer to her but she’s still disappearing.  And I’m torn with what to do.  Do I talk to her? Tell her how I feel, and hope she’ll stop drinking, and stop smoking weed, and tobacco, and stop taking pro plus everyday or more realistically she’ll just make up a story and promise she’ll stop soon and then walk away with her friends that encourage it.  Or do I just ignore it, and allow it to get worse, but then in years to come when she realises what it’s done she’ll think I didn’t care.  I can see how it’s going to affect her in the long run.  Worse than the others.  She drinks because she’s depressed, but the alcohol just reacts badly with the anti-depressants, but drinking has a lot of calories, so she smokes to prevent herself eating so that she’ll lose weight, but really that was the problem in the first place.  I don’t want to fix her; I want to help her. I want her to see what it’s doing to her; it’s making everything worse.  But all she sees is that for a few hours she’s happy.  And as important as her happiness is to me, I can’t watch as she drinks and smokes her entire life away.  She’s not the person I became friends with.  I hate change.  Jenni and Lisa, two of the most important people to me in the world.  And once again I’m losing my friends after a year.  We’re drifting apart, and I’m just watching.  This time, it’s my fault though.  But I can’t help but be slightly angry with them.  The reason we started to drift apart was purely because that for some reason I started to feel depressed and as a consequence distanced myself from everyone, especially the people close to me because I fear being hurt more than I already feel I have been.  But about a month later when I snap out of it, they’re too far away.  They’ve become too close to their other friends and now have an entire life I’m not allowed to be apart of.  I tried to fix it, but I only made it worse.  But by the distance now between us I don’t feel I can trust them enough to explain why I ignored them in the first place.  However none of this actually helped me with my feeling of depression, and as result there’s a new scar on my hand.  But if asked I will just tell you that it was a spot that I kept picking at and that’s why it has scarred so badly.  I wouldn’t tell you the truth, which is that I sat there almost in tears scratching at my hand, almost praying that the skin would break and that it would bleed.  It bled a little and a small feeling of warmth spread through my body.  Two years.  It felt good, to be truthfully honest but I haven’t done it since, which in some way has sort of proved me wrong.  I haven’t gone off straight away and started doing it every night like I thought I would, but I also did it again, which also goes against what I promised myself and so I’ve let myself down.  But I don’t regret it, I’ve tried not to regret much recently. But I digress.  I tried to fix it, but I think it’s beyond repair.  That’s not to say I want it to be, but I think it is.  Whenever I try to talk to Lisa, Bex and/or Stef will appear and almost literally drag her away.  I’m trying; you can’t say I’m not.  Now I just avoid eye contact in the corridor, pretend I didn’t notice them, and carry on my day.  I miss them.  But there’s nothing I can do.  Soon they’re not even going to think about me, I’m being replaced.  I know because it’s happened before.  I hate change.  Things with Jenni are slightly better.  One time she came up to me and said hello and gave me a hug, and it seemed just like old times.  But it’s going downhill again.  Who am I kidding?  I’m about to give up.  Even if I were to hang out with them, I wouldn’t enjoy myself.  They smoke weed, I don’t.  They drink excessively too much, I don’t.  They know I disapprove.  It doesn’t stop them.  They’re not the people I became friends with.  I hate change.  So I’m beginning to think that it’s not worth it.  I mean is it?  If they realised that the whole thing started because I was depressed, would we all forgive and forget?  Would it all just be like how it was?  Or would it not make a difference?  If they kept on how they are doing right now, and I kept on working as hard as I am now, would I end up better than them?  Would I go further and do better?  Would I get into a good University and do a psychology course and become a top psychiatrist and help teenagers with depression and eating disorders and such, people like my friends.  It may be bitchy, but I hope so.  I would like to rub it in their faces that I’m better than them, and the drugs and alcohol did not get it for me.  I want to look back at my teenage years and think ‘Yeah, they were good.  Sure there are parts I regret but those years made me who I am today.  And I’m damn proud of that.’  I don’t want to look back and think, ‘What the hell was I thinking? I fucked up.’  And to be truthful, I want them to.  Maybe then they’ll realise the point I was coming from and I’ll seem like the good guy trying to help people.  Not the joy killer.  I secretly hope they’ll fuck everything up.  Then I can be there to smirk proudly and say ‘I tried to help you and get you to stop.  You didn’t listen.  I told you so.’  However they could not fuck up, and actually do very well, but secretly I want them to. 

I don’t feel guilty.  Does that make me a bad person?  I love him yet I like the other guy more.  And though I probably won’t go out with him the fact I like him more than my boyfriend means that I might meet other people I like more. I made out with him.  And I enjoyed it! So sue me?  And I don’t feel guilty.  Right now I’m happy.  An attractive boy with a lip piercing and make-up and a skateboard liked me enough to walk with me while kissing me as we were pushed out the Academy by our friends.  I feel good, about myself and in general.  I’m happy and isn’t that the main thing? Right now I’m glad my boyfriend couldn’t go to the gig, because otherwise I would not have had such an amazing night with my best friends and all my new friends, I wouldn’t have even met him!  I might feel bad later but now I’m happy.  And I don’t care.  Fuck it.

I'm realsing now that not everyone is how they seem, you can be friends with someone for years yet still not know who they really are. And when you see how they act with one person who they 'care' about, it makes you think about whether they would do the same to you if you were in the same position. Or you can be friends with someone since like being a toddler and they could have been your best friend yet when they hate you for some stupid fuck ass reason you don't give a shit because it made you realise how bad a friend they really were.

And to be honest this terrfies me.

In one day your entire life can be twisted upside down and your views can be completely changed. You realise that the happiest days of your life were just a complete lie and all that time and effort you spent trying to patch things up were just a waste and you should have saved all the effort for people that will show their true selves to you. But how do you know when you've met these people? For all you know the people you're using your energy up on now will change in a couple years time and you will be going through all this again.

I hate how people slowly drift apart and how each day is more painful than the last because you know that this weekend will be the last you spend with that person and that there will be no more shared secrets and no more sleepovers and no more making icing for cakes at 2am while covering the kitchen in icing sugar because you wanted to.

But i love how this will all get to happen with new people that you love and care about even more and that you trust these people with your life, yet you can't help but think that eventually you will drift apart and once again you will get the feeling of longing for the 'good old days' which were in fact the worst days of your life.

I can't stand the thought of not being with my current friends.

These are the friends that always seem to know how to make you feel better. I love how they can tell something is wrong just from a hug and that they will do anything in their power to make it better. I love how they're always there for you and help you make desicions about boys by dragging you into the toilets and trying to make you hate one of them. They're different to your last friends, they show that they care, they don't walk away from your problems hoping that it never happened. Instead they take them on full force and stick with you till it's over, comforting you every step of the way. You can tell them anything, and you do. But even though you may be closer to these friends you felt exactly the same so many times before and you remember the outcome. The best days of your life suddenly become the worst and you hate those days with passion, but a part of you still cares about those people because they are memories that were shared. No matter how painful those memories may be to look back on they are still memories and you still shared them with those people, and nothing can change that.

It baffles me how people can change in such a way to one person over a couple months. One day you can be best friend with this person and share everything with them and spend your entire weekend with them laughing and joking and sharing more inside jokes but two months later you won't look each other in the eye because they found someone to replace you while you were gone.

This is something that happens, no matter how many times we say 'friends forever' or 'bessies fo' life' and how you feel afterwards is indescribable. At first you walk round feeling numb until you realise that it's finally over and you either feel a sense of loss or relief. And no matter how much you bitch about it and no matter how much you wish it had never happened, be it your friendship or the fall out, it did happen and you can't change it but you have to move on, but you're being held back by the memories and it's depressing. You walk round your house and each time you step into a room there's a whole story behind it and you look round your room at all the pictures you have all over the walls and all those memories come flooding back no matter how hard you fight them off, they take over you and you end up sat in the middle of your room crying or you end up throwing anything you can get your hands on in the hopes that you won't feel like this anymore. In the hopes that you won't feel so rejected and worthless anymore. But you know you'll get over it but it doesn't stop the pain.

And you wonder for months whether it's your fault that it happened but then when rational thought starts to take over you realise that it's them that changed and it's them that ditched you when you needed them most and you can't help but hate them more than anything because you helped them with their problems yet they used yours as an excuse to get rid of you and you think that maybe you will actually get through this and you find your new friends and the whole circle starts again.

But when do we find the friends we're meant to be with forever? How do we know when we've met them?

All i can say is that i hope i have found them, my friends are just amazing in everyway imaginable. And quite frankly i don't care that they aren't perfect to you. Because they're perfect to me. I trust them with everything and i know that they trust me too. I know that they will listen to me when i need to talk and i know that they won't bitch about me beind my back and i know that they won't lie to me but rather tell me the truth rather then let me embarrass myself. And i know that they won't turn around and stab me in the back and no they won't go out with my boyfriend, unlike some girls i meet. And i need to let them know that i would do anything for them because they mean more than that to me. There is only so much i can do being only a meer mortal but if i could i would make their lives perfect. Yes they would find that boy they wish to find and no they won't have to fight their problems daily because if they don't it will consume them and there would be no way out.

I don't understand how people can bitch about their best friends because your best friends are all you have but they just don't realise that! At the end of the day i don't give a damn if i don't get A's in my subjects, i don't care about whether i pass my dance and drum exams, i couldn't care less whether that boy likes me, as long as i have my friends i have everything.