to love for the hope of it all

I fear this entry is just going to be self-loathing, regret and a bit of desperation mixed in. I suppose nobody really stays. Not around me at least, not for me. I feel like my entire life has been revolving doors of people coming into my life, adoring and using me for whatever they can, whatever serves them until deciding that I have nothing left to offer and leaving. I’m not even sure where the fuck these feelings are coming from right now, besides just feeling lonely. People want me around when I serve a purpose to them – financially, entertainment based on shitty things I put myself through, company because nobody else is available; but nobody wants to actually stay after. Nobody wants to be there when I’m the one who needs help, not really; not more than just asking how I’m doing on a night out, or trying to get more information about a situation I’ve created (romantic in nature). It feels like my entire life has been trying to prove to people that I’m worth making an effort, worth the hassle, worth the occasional difficulty of being in their life and it just isn’t working, ever. I still feel like a teenager begging for people to give a shit, knowing I’m throwing out signal after signal, asking for help discreetly – the only way I know how to; and yet it’s not working. 

I don’t know if I’m destined for a life of just feeling like second best to everybody, if I’m even lucky enough to be in contention in the first place. I’m terrified that I am. That this is what it’s always going to be like. I can’t seem to keep friends in my life for very long, always feeling like the personal growth both of us are doing doesn’t align in any way, and wanting to leave before they do. God knows I can’t maintain a healthy relationship for longer than a few years, putting up with far too much early on and setting up a pattern of disappointment for myself that eventually gets too overwhelming to deal with when things really get to get serious and long term commitment is mentioned. I can’t stay happy. The only conclusion I can reach is that there must be something inherently wrong with me. As a person, as a human, as an entity in the galaxy. Am I just meant to feel pain, in varying forms, constantly? I keep adapting to thing after thing and trying to glue myself back together after all of the damage but I’m not sure I have the strength to anymore. It’s so exhausting feeling like I’ll never really be good enough for anyone. It makes trying to stay positive and hopeful impossible. There are so many situations where I regret my actions and the outcome they caused, cutting out or losing someone important in my life, but I don’t think anyone ever regrets losing me. 

It’s hard to believe that I’m meant to feel more than this when I never have. I don’t know how to let people love me when it includes letting them in completely; when it comes to trusting they’ll still be there after learning everything about me; because the truth is that nobody ever does. Nobody stays. Nobody thinks I’m worth the effort. I desperately try to prove and convince people that I am, but I have no leg to stand on, no magical argument that makes it true; it doesn’t seem to be. 

Combat, I’m ready for combat

I say I don’t want that, but what if I do?

‘Cause cruelty wins in the movies

I’ve got a hundred thrown-out speeches I almost said to you

Easy they come, easy they go

I jump from the train, I ride off alone

I never grew up, it’s getting so old

Help me hold onto you

I’ve been the archer

I’ve been the prey

Who could ever leave me, darling?

But who could stay? (The Archer, Taylor Swift)

I’m still on that tightrope

I’m still trying everything to get you laughing at me

I’m still a believer but I don’t know why

I’ve never been a natural

All I do is try, try, try

I’m still on that trapeze

I’m still trying everything

To keep you looking at me (mirrorball, Taylor Swift)

And I sound like an infant

Feeling like the very last drops of an ink pen

A greater woman stays cool

But I howl like a wolf at the moon

[…]

A greater woman has faith

But even statues crumble if they’re made to wait

I’m so afraid I sealed my fate

No sign of soulmates

I’m just a paperweight in shades of greige

Spending my last coin so someone will tell me it’ll be okay

Please I’ve been on my knees

Change the prophecy

Don’t want money

Just someone who wants my company

Let it once be me

Who do I have to speak to

About if they can redo the prophecy? (The Prophecy, Taylor Swift).

I suppose it makes sense that it’s the trifecta of songs I feel most represent my desperation for just, something. Something that makes me feel like I’m not a mess of a human being who actually deserves love and people around her. I don’t even want to be around myself most of the time, so I do get it; I just wish it weren’t the case.

It’s been a really long day. I didn’t even really realise the date until I started writing this – most of my close female friends I have since drifted apart from are born on January 6th, and I wonder if that’s why I’ve been feeling like shit all day. At this point there could be about a million different reasons wy, including barely sleeping last night because I couldn’t fall asleep. I may need to start sleeping on the couch if I’m just going to keep tossing and turning and feeling the emptiness of my bed, because it’s exhausting to barely sleep a few hours, get dressed and just start my day. This morning felt horrendous, walking to class and around the city like a corpse that’s been made to put on clothes and get done up for an open casket, trudging along with my day waiting to feel better – admittedly, I did by the time I was walking home. I wonder if some form of delayed comedown just threw me off completely, but it’s much more likely to be the lack of sleep and actual nutrients. So far, I’ve been able to keep down a bowl of pasta from two hours ago, but I still find it difficult to want to eat, and thus to eat point blank. I think I just worried my mum talking about it on the phone, so I’ll go back to keeping my terrible habits to myself. 

I have the most important academic few weeks coming up until the end of February, and yet my mind feels so unclear and foggy. I can’t help thinking about ‘abs’, worrying about my family (and especially my brother) and honestly about myself a little bit. I know that time heals all, and things will pass and solve themself and everything, but at the moment it’s just tiring to go through. I worry about ‘abs’ and how he’s doing without a real chance to actually talk to him about it (at least so far) because of how strange things are between us. It’ll be quite nice to see him over the weekend and hear more about his travels – it sounds like he had a lovely time, and if I ignore the soul-shattering thoughts behind it (dramatic) and the company he chose, I’m so glad that he went and enjoyed himself. Frankly I have too much on my mind to even attempt to fully process things, especially wanting to avoid just making assumptions without talking to him and letting my thoughts run amok. It’s been extremely entertaining to start using more intricate language that I don’t really have the chance to anymore as I no longer write essays for university. It’s been really nice to have some form of creative outlet, although I know that revealing my inner dialogue is not necessarily a good idea. I suppose it will do for the moment and help ease the feeling of not being able to talk to anyone about things on my mind. 

I’m so unbelievably worried about academics, and it comes in waves of extreme, intense anxiety that just feels overwhelming, to complete calm, thinking that I have more than enough time to revise and get everything done. I reckon a balance of both is probably healthiest – so perhaps I’ll get there this week. I must completely focus on my exams for the next two weeks, despite everything else on my mind, so we’ll find out just how successful I am. 

I crave company but push people away; I desire love but am terrified of it; I long for something greater without knowing what it is. What am I? Confused. 

What a fun melodramatic first few lines for an evening that frankly is much needed. Evenings like these where I’m just sat on the couch relaxing with no real intention to be productive just make me wish I had somebody to do it with. Not even in a particularly romantic sense. Just some company, sit in the quiet or watch a film / show and enjoy the laid back moment. That being said, part of me is also relieved by the silence of everything that isn’t the show I have on right now, and the fact that I can just sit here in my pyjamas without needing to talk to anyone or do anything. Perhaps it is time I get a lil cat to keep me company – it would do me a lot of good, despite how worried I am about taking care of it. I suppose this is just another example of how conflicting my desires are sometimes. I want somebody or at least something to spend time with, I desperately want to take care of someone but am also just terrified at this point. 

I think that’s part of why I was so withdrawn in my approach to the situation with ‘abs’, worried about what I thought he wanted and what I should do rather than what I actually wanted to. There’s just always been a lot of pressure surrounding us, at least in my opinion, especially with everyone in our friend group being somewhat involved. I think that’s a huge reason I keep holding on to the possibility of an ‘us’ again, because it truly does feel like neither of us were particularly genuine in our approach to it and that things would work perfectly between us if we actually both tried. I suppose the issue with that is that he has made it clear that it isn’t something he would like to do, so I guess I’m just hoping that changes at some point. I don’t think continuing to yearn, long and ‘wait’ is the worst idea. I know it may not be the smartest for myself and my life, but it kinda reminds me of my own criticisms about modern society – people want everything, as soon as possible, and move onto another thing the second they don’t get it. I don’t particularly want to just move on rather than actually believe in my instinct that there might genuinely be something real between us. The confliction lays in what I want versus what I think I should do. 

I don’t find it particularly easy to trust my own instincts as of late. I have a feeling it may be linked to my perception of my own mental health since my teenage years – the guilt from not knowing what to do between my parents, never being sure what the best way to fit in with friends and at school is, and since I turned eighteen what I’m supposed to do with my life. I often am sure of my decision of pursuing law as it’s something I adore and feel I’m good at, and allows me to actually make some form of difference in the world. I wonder if it’s a reflection of a deep-seated need to prove myself to everyone, including myself; seems extremely likely frankly. I think I just want to feel useful and needed, potentially a main reason and motivation for wanting to have kids, seemingly in a rush for absolutely no reason. I keep hoping that getting older, and learning things that I’ll somehow figure out who I am, what I want and what I should be doing to achieve it. So far, not quite what I was expecting. It is however really interesting to keep discovering things about myself, even if they are hard to deal with sometimes. I think that’s probably enough deep thinking for the evening as I’m lacking sleep and should probably eat something. 

Sometimes you just need a nice night out, too many drinks, too many drugs, surrounded by friends – that was last night. Apparently in 2025 I just try things because I trust the people I’m with, which is actually quite nice. I was feeling extremely rough this morning, no doubt exacerbated by my few hours of sleep; in a tale as old as time, throwing up what little I had in my system was honestly a godsend. The comedown from the (copious, at least for me) cocaine is not as brutal as I expected today, which begs the question about my general level of happiness recently, if a comedown that usually causes suicidal ideation or at least some form of depressing internal reflection has little effect on me at this point. I think I’m just thinking about my brother and family too much, and my very internalised guilt about the situation to really focus on anything at the moment. 

Finally spoke to ‘abs’ on the phone literally just now and it’s so nice to hear about his trip and just chat, worrying about it made me forget just how easy it is to be friends with him and just,,, talk. I’m hoping I’m going to be able to keep food down today, because so far it’s just not been working or helping at all. I might write more in the evening but I think I’m just tired and don’t want to focus on my thoughts really.

I wonder just how far into my childhood I would have to look to understand why being ignored triggers such an intense feeling of shame, embarrassment and disappointment. I suspect it has to do with my father’s lack of attention to me my entire life, despite my mum trying to overcompensate for it. I suppose that’s how it is when two incompatible people, however much they may have seemed compatible at first, must raise children together and one of them just does not put in any effort. I wonder if that’s the future I’m dooming myself to. Of constant disappointment. It’s a thought I often ponder when trying to understand what I want for my life and trying to imagine what my future looks like. Frankly, I’m too tired to delve deeper into the sadness of my psyche at the moment. I just feel unsure, nervous and exhausted. 

This is the main problem with my overthinking and why I constantly feel the need to distract myself – I had a lovely time out with people tonight, attempting to play monopoly, and yet coming home just makes me feel so empty. It no doubt has to do with the emptiness of the apartment itself, and knowing that I’m the only one responsible and who can put it and myself in order. I’m the only one who can drag myself out of the pits of my emotions, despite how much I desperately want help. I think it’s time for me to get some rest before what will be, I’m sure, a long and confusing day tomorrow with ‘dc”s event. 

I’d like to start by saying so far so good! I’ve been able to keep food down since entering the new year, and even cooked something for dinner. Every time I consider myself to be making progress, I’m never really sure. My morning (well, started at 11:30) walk was extremely hopeful and felt quite nice until I called my mum to catch up – not being able to have a normal conversation with her without the divorce or how bad my brother is doing is really adding up, and just frustrating and hurtful. I know how selfish that is of me to say, but it doesn’t make it less true. There are times I do seriously consider moving back to Montreal, if only for a few months or up to a year to just alleviate stress on everyone there and somehow ‘fix’ things in my family, as well as get a mental reset. I think I’m unfortunately still far too convinced in my ability to remedy things with people, even when it’s not my job to. It just feels like unless I’m actively doing something, I’m just being selfish and not caring about other people, even if it is just because I’m focusing on my own life. I don’t know what to think about everything going on with family anymore, and I’m far too tired to do so right now.

In a very similar vein, I’m frankly so tired of my own brain overthinking things with ‘abs’ that I think it’s just started to shut down. There are just so many different thoughts going through my head about it, including both insanely hopeful ones, and the most depressing ones – I have absolutely no clue what to expect when we see each other next, which, upon current reflection, just rings alarm bells in my head and instant panic. I have a feeling I’m going to be forced to make decisions and choices that I do not want to make, and stand by them even if I don’t want to. I beg the universe or whatever higher force or being to somehow bring this back into my favour and what I want, even if it’s not what I need. I’m not even sure about that actually. I know that I love him, but any realistic thoughts I have about a relationship are just negative at this point; he’s going to come back sure about not wanting to be with me, probably either sure he wants to be with her, or just more unsure about things in general. I should not keep pursuing it. 

None of this stops me from actually wanting and missing him. He no longer takes up every single thought I have, and it seems like sleeping has come much easier recently, but tonight feels like it will be difficult. Tonight is one of those nights where I wish I was climbing into bed with him, nice and soft and warm, having a lil giggly conversation before bed and cuddling for warmth – I suppose that’s not anything that’s ever happened with him though, not really. I miss the touches between us and the rare affection from when he did actually like me, more than I know to describe; it was always the part that I considered the biggest adjustment and change for him since he’s not used to physical affection, and I can’t help but tear up at the knowledge that there literally was a time he did want to be with me, and that we’re no longer in it. I don’t know if I’ll ever truly stop mourning what could have been, which is part of why I’m struggling so much to let go of it. It could be so good, it could be everything; but it probably won’t be, as much as I want it to be. I can’t will him into feeling something for me again, a reality that pains me every single time I must confront it. I’m positive I’ve ridiculed myself to everyone we know at this point with the fact that I remain hopeful somehow that things will change, knowing that they won’t. I think it feels like even writing or saying those thoughts, acknowledging them, lessens the probability of them happening somehow; some odd superstition I can’t rid myself of. 

Lately I seem to notice even more subtle signs of anxiety-caused OCD-like thinking that plague my daily routine and thoughts. The more I think I’m healing and discovering myself, the more I am faced with hidden, slightly worrying realisations about myself that I must face somehow, completely alone as I am terrified of sharing them with people and allowing them to realise what’s truly going on in my brain. My grandmother told me I was a very personal and closed off person yesterday, which kinda shook me to my core – I thought I had been quite open about my thoughts and feelings with her over my time in Montreal, but it made me realise that maybe that hadn’t quite been the case. Although somewhat inherently different with friends, I do have immense difficulty actually talking about my fears and worries on anything but a very superficial level, scared about how it would affect the person in front of me. I no longer feel I can talk to anybody in my family in a genuine, earnest way, and I’m not sure I have ever felt that way – even as a teenager I used to believe that sharing any of my opinions or thoughts to my family would ruin whatever love they did hold for me as a family member and they would realise just how fucked up I was (or felt I was, turns out I was just 14 and struggling rather than an inherently evil person). Most of my family have unbelievably reactive emotions, the way that I do, which make it more difficult to open up as you must then also comfort them rather than just purely receive it. I think the one conversation I had about it with ‘lc’, my high school boyfriend, still plagues me almost 10 years later – my reactions make it difficult for people to want to confront me or be honest about things that will hurt me. It’s a sentiment that ‘mc’ has echoed ‘abs’ must somewhat apply to me during the time we’ve known each other, trying to convince me that he has or even does go along with things just for my sake and to avoid a reaction from me. As much as I understand the thought behind it, I just hate it. I don’t always hate how emotional I am, I try to see it as something positive that I don’t feel complete without (did that make sense?). Trying to numb my thoughts or feelings has only ever done me bad; I still hate how unapproachable it makes me sometimes, and how it affects others. 

As far as everyone is concerned, probably himself included, ‘abs’ has been honest and open with me about how he feels at this point, and it’s just time for me to let it go and get on with my life. I still find that difficult to believe for some reason. I just honestly do not believe that there isn’t anything still between us. In theory, with my lack of self esteem and terrible perception of myself, actually accepting this shouldn’t be as difficult as it is. I’m not sure that I’m particularly great, so why would he? Why would he be able to see past everything wrong with me when nobody is able to? Remnants of ‘The Archer’ play in my heart reminding me that the reason I hope he is able to, and desperately want him to, is because it’s what I want most in the world. Someone who sees the worst in me and still wants me. Following this train of thought has just made me sad honestly, as I am terrified that whatever chances I’ve had at that in the past were destroyed by terrible, impulsive decisions I’ve made. I want to be happy, I want to be loved and yet I cling so strongly to somebody who does not want me. He’s made that quite clear at this point. Even if I don’t particularly believe it to be so, surely I must take into account his actual words and how he says he’s feeling rather than just be stubborn about it. I fear I’ve just talking (or well written) myself into another evening of truly feeling the loneliness and pain the entire situation has caused me. I beg that things are somehow different in the morning. I know I’ll feel better and will have stopped spiraling (or at least, I really hope so as I must study), but I hope that somehow things will be different. 

I’m unsure when ‘abs’ is actually returning, but I feel the need to speak into existence that I hope he has a safe journey back (an example of the ODC-like thought) “just in case”. My last text to him remains read but unanswered, and the slight feeling of dread and hopelessness lives on in my body. Perhaps I should have just gone to sleep rather than decide to journal and thus think; although I suppose actually thinking about things and how I feel can never really be a bad thing. For some reason the lyrics of ‘Don’t Look Back in Anger’ come to mind, “So Sally can wait, she knows it’s too late”. How strange, and I would say random but I suppose not quite.

Hi 2025. I’m unsure what to make of you so far, though I think it’s time I stop attempting to understand and figure everything out. I’m really looking forward to this year. I’m nervous and terrified and exhausted, but so looking forward to seeing what it brings and has in store, while trying my best to make the most of it. 

I can’t say the word nervous without immediately thinking of the next time I see ‘abs’ again, but honestly that’ll be something to ponder and worry about when the time comes, I feel too tired (I’d like to blame the prosecco and champagne) and hopeful to really let myself think about it at the moment. I tried so hard to make the best of 2024, and I can honestly say that despite how it ended and all of the absolute bullshit I went through, it was easily one of the best years of my entire life. I fear the leftover alcohol and continued slight sleep deprivation doesn’t help with forming more coherent thoughts than that at the moment. It’s a nice, chill day in my house. Head kinda empty, heart full.

It’s currently 8:03 pm as I’m sat alone on my couch waiting for friends to come over to ring in the New Years. Normally, ‘abs’ is the only one who arrives on time, company I dearly miss at the moment. As much as I wish he were here and I’ve been thinking about him today, I can’t help but think about this year and this evening as something much larger. I did so much in 2024. I received my undergraduate diploma and my first postgraduate one; I truly explored London, discovering new boroughs and favourite pubs and favourite restaurants. I’ve made so many friends, either for a short few weeks or that have completely shaped my year and continue to do so. I’ve cried, I’ve laughed, I’ve loved, I’ve drunk way too much, done things I regret, said things that didn’t need to be said, did things that didn’t need to be done. This is probably the first year it feels like I truly lived. Like I actually made an effort to try things that I’ve wanted to do, go where I wanted to go, see what I wanted to see. It’s been a fucking whirlwind. 

I rediscovered my love for reading, for cooking, for crafts. I’m in the process of defining my personal style and what I like to wear. I’m finding out what I like to do, who I want to be, who I want to surround myself with and what I want for my future. It’s been utterly confusing and exhausting; and yet so exhilarating. I’ve met and adored so many people this year, the most important one has been myself though. I say that and immediately feel the need to write about the love I have for the people in my life at the moment – getting closer to people I’ve known for years and expanding my social circle and friendship group has been the absolute highlight. It’s hard not to be happy when surrounded by people that want what’s best for you, to have a nice time, and to be around you as well. 

As much as I talk about ‘abs’ romantically and perhaps on surface level, his company and friendship this year has helped me rediscover so much about myself in a way that makes it difficult to ever want to stop being in his life. I haven’t had a chance to talk about books, politics, philosophy and values the way I have with him this last year probably ever. It’s allowed me to really think about what I want for myself, form my own opinions on things and explore different viewpoints I never would think to. He’s so interesting, and intelligent, and insightful and I adore how his mind works, truly. I think that’s why I always considered it inevitable that I would fall in love with him, despite how he’s treated me. It’s him. It’s ‘abs’. It’s a sentence and sentiment I find myself repeating far too often, confusing and frustrating those around me – it’s him, it just makes sense that it’s him. I’m unsure about how to feel going into this new year frankly, and what I should be thinking about the situation and him, but that’s not something I’m going to focus on right now.

I adore my life at the moment. From my messy, unfinished flat; to my overflowing, frustrating wardrobe; my lovely, unbelievably irresponsible (at times) friends; my family that always try to make me feel loved and my own willingness to live and try. It’s been a long fucking year, but so worth it. I’m so grateful for everything that has happened, whether painful or joyous at the time, that has led me to the person I am this evening – ready to take on 2025 with love in my heart, prosecco in my glass, and surrounded by friends. 

‘abs’ my love, if you happen to ever be reading this, I’ll be hoping to be your New Year’s kiss next year, like I should have been this year.

Thank you 2024, you were miserable and wonderful all at once, and I cannot wait to see what the new year will bring.

Last night was probably the longest I’ve slept so far, a full seven hours, still not entirely sure about how restful they actually were. The mood for today starts with the letter d, despair, depressed and distant. I had a nosebleed in the middle of the street on my way home from my massage and after sending a new years message to ‘abs’ – not entirely sure that wasn’t somehow the world punishing me for making a bad decision. What the fuck type of omen or sign is that? A nosebleed? As if I can’t literally feel my body struggling to function without getting the necessary nutrients and sleep.

I am painfully aware of the date. Painfully aware that the man I love is on another continent, ringing in the New Year with another girl that he is probably already in love with. Painfully aware that he’ll kiss her at midnight and be so glad he flew all that way to be with her, already dreading leaving her side in a few days. Painfully aware that I’ll be the last thing on his mind in his moment of joy, while he’s the only thing on mine in my time of sorrow. God that was a dramatic sentence, how cool and well-written. I’m sure that if I fed less into the dramatisation of things I have in my head my life would be significantly better and calmer, alas I am condemned to yearn and long and think of Shakespearean vocabulary to make it all seem more palpable. Perhaps it’s actually just another way for me to disconnect from the reality that is my life, pretending it’s a tragic romance novel, or a film about losing and rediscovering yourself over and over. Maybe that’s where the whole tv show idea I associate with my disassociation comes from – most likely. That being said, that revelation helps absolutely nothing at the moment. I’m not sure anything particularly does. I think things just suck. Oh how quickly I turn to teenage petulance when I can no longer be bothered to deal with my emotions.

I’m unsure of my plans for tonight, as seemingly nobody is in the mood to ring in a new year either. I’m positive I’ll write again at some point before midnight, my last message to myself in 2024.

I just watched the second and third Bridget Jones films. As New Years’ Eve approaches, all I can think about is the fact that ‘abs’ will be kissing another girl to celebrate which literally causes physical discomfort. That being said, god I miss him. I miss looking at his handsome face and into his eyes, and listening to his sometimes silly opinions and his reaction to things. I know I’m not really welcome in his life at the moment as I’m sure he wants to make the most of his time there, or is even frankly not thinking of me. Which truly makes me sad. But he’s on my mind, constantly. Even when things between us are terrible and awkward, I love his presence in my life, his jokes, his smile (especially that stupid grin he does when he catches me smiling at him and returns it). I think I’m just really missing him. I know I shouldn’t, or that continuing to romanticise him in any way is probably just worse for me, but I can’t help it. I adore him. Even though he doesn’t feel remotely the same way, that’s how I feel. I hold so much love for him, including platonically that it just feels weird to not be able to reach out or call or see him, especially right after declaring my love. I can’t help the feeling of hopefulness that accompanies the sadness that comes with thinking about the current situation too much. 

Please let him be sure of me when he gets back. I know he won’t, but if there was ever a time I’d want to get something purely for the reason that I want it badly enough, please let it be him. I don’t even particularly know who I’m addressing or wishing to, I’m just wishing. Please let me loving him be enough, please. I know this isn’t particularly about me, especially with him choosing to spend New Years on a literal different continent with another girl, but please. I know I’ll be okay if he doesn’t, and that time will make everything feel easier, but just let me have what I want, just this once. Please, please, please let me get what I want. 

I have no eloquent words that encapsulate how I feel better than that, at least for the time being.