to love for the hope of it all

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.

I love new starts. I love the beginning of the week, the beginning of a new month, of a new season, and most of all of a new year. Not because I expect to magically have my shit together for the first time overnight, but because it’s the ultimate symbol of hope. It’s starting again, a fresh slate, a new beginning. Into the next year I take with me the love I feel for myself, my friends, the city I live in and ‘abs’. Taking the time to reflect on my year just makes me glad that I tried new things, put myself out there, had experiences and just, lived. I lived this year. Nothing can ever take that away from me. I went out, made friends, learnt new things, read, traveled, laughed, cried, loved. I did all those things and more. 

I hope that ‘abs’ comes back from his travels with a clearer mind, and ideally wanting to be with me, but I’ll still be absolutely okay if he doesn’t. I adore him as a person, and want what is best for him no matter what, including if he is to return being sure of his feelings for another girl. I still don’t regret meeting, kissing, touching or loving him; I refuse to. I tried, and in the worst case, it just didn’t work – things can’t always work. I’ve wanted so much in the past that would not have been ideal for me, perhaps this is just one of those things, perhaps it’s not. Only time will tell.

I keep forgetting that I choose who I am and how I feel, and what I do with it. I want to be happy and radiate sunshine for my loved ones, friends and family. Nothing is stopping me from doing that but my own mindset and attitude towards life. A single pushback doesn’t define anything about me or my worth. I’m still me. I’m still far too trusting and open, perhaps far too loving and caring, and definitely a yapper, fun and optimistic about life. I’m me. That’s the feeling that’s been missing from my life this year, or rather a fact I keep forgetting – I don’t need to know my exact future or exactly who I am, I’m still just lil old me. 

Growth isn’t linear, a constant thing I must keep in mind. This is one of the rare times I feel confident enough in myself and my values to know that things will be fine. It’s a feeling I’d like to hold on to and develop. The knowledge that I have done my best and tried my hardest in every single aspect of what has happened between ‘abs’ and I can carry me through it, I think so at least. I’m glad we met, I’m glad there was something between us, I’m glad I actually tried – although I regret perhaps not doing it in the ‘right’ way, I did it in the way I thought was best at the time – I’m glad I told him I loved him and I’m glad that I can understand that his actions are a reflection on him more than on me. They’re a reflection on his fear and inability to be honest and open in fear of disappointing people, and his desire for affection / love that I provided for awhile. 

I refuse to let bad things that people do to me alter my DNA as a person. I like that I think the best of people until proven otherwise, that I genuinely do believe in good, because I don’t see the point otherwise. I will continue to go into situations with pure intentions and heart, and keep hoping. 

8:15 PM: i’m still going to expect and hope for the best in people, and if they disappoint me then that’s on them; but i’ve gone in with good intentions, expectations and with a good, pure heart

8:15 PM: yes i’m an idiot for putting myself in situations with ‘abs’ where he can take advantage of me, but he is to “blame” for actually doing it 

8:16 PM: i’m never going to apologise for being too nice a person

8:16 PM: that does mean i’m going to be disappointed a lot, but i’ll get past it and move on like i always do

[texts I sent to mc]

That was actually the entire way and reason I came up with the name for this blog, long before I knew I wanted to use it as an actual way of journaling through my emotions at a time like this. The lyric ‘to live for the hope of it all’ by my favourite blonde, despite being in a song about rejection and loss, always encapsulates how I feel about life. The song about some form of teenage love still resonates, and I refuse to lose that sense of innocence and hope going into a romantic, platonic or really any type of situation. Yes, I absolutely could avoid a lot of hurt if I was perhaps a bit more realistic or honest about people and their intentions and goals; but that’s still not the type of person I am. In a world where it’s normal to distrust people, and be harsh and cruel and unattached and ‘nonchalant’, I’ll keep caring (perhaps too much), I’ll keep being open and trusting people and hoping for the best, because that’s the type of person I am. I still refuse to let people harden me and take that away from me. It’s disingenuous of me to pretend I don’t care about people, or don’t yearn or long for them.

When starting whatever happened between ‘abs’ and I, I didn’t for fear of overwhelming and pressuring him when he was unsure; I later realised that it was this very decision of trying to ‘protect’ him from me that made me feel entirely lost with myself. I’m not chill, I’m not easy, I’m not breezy – and I don’t want to be. That’s not the type of person I am and I don’t want to have to pretend to be someone I’m not, ever. Sometimes I do wish I had done things differently from the beginning with him, as I’m sure things would have been completely different; but I can’t blame myself for doing what I thought was best at the time, with the information I had then. I’ve constantly been made to feel like I’m too much for people in the past, which is why I felt I had to hold back with ‘abs’, despite never wanting to. I don’t want to have to, especially with someone I want to actually build a relationship and potentially life with. I think I have to accept two truths: one, he doesn’t care about me nearly as much as he should; two: the first part being true, he’s simply not enough for me at the moment then. I’m going to keep hoping things are magically different in the New Years, knowing damn well I’m probably going to be disappointed; I’m still holding on to that little shred of hope though. That little part of me that knows he’s a good man who could if he wanted to. 

I’d like to continue solidifying who I am as a person in the upcoming year, because I really love the recent discoveries about myself and want to keep having them. I really like the person I’ve become, and want to continue developing that while also changing habits or behaviours that do not serve me.

listening to: right where you left me by taylor swift

Did you hear about the girl who lives in delusion?

Break-ups happen every day, you don’t have to lose it

She’s still 23 inside her fantasy

And you’re sitting in front of me

At the restaurant, when I was still the one you want

Cross-legged in the dim light, everything was just right

I, I could feel the mascara run

You told me that you met someone

Glass shattered on the white cloth

Everybody moved on

It seems like whatever progress I think I make gets reset after my subconscious goes unmonitored in my sleep (what a fancy way to say that I can’t protect myself in my dreams). Sleeping doesn’t feel like resting at all, when all I can do is toss and turn for hours before finally succumbing to slumber, plagued by imaginary scenarios that will never happen, waking me up at different intervals to torture me about what I’ve done wrong over the last year of my life. I’m so tired. I can feel my body being exhausted from the lack of proper nutrients and fatigue of lack of sleep and yet can’t do anything to help. I’ve restarted long walks in hopes that they tire me out enough to get a good night’s rest, and it exhausts me, but not enough to ensure I sleep in the evenings. I wonder if it’s also because of the bed that’s only ever been shared with one other person since I moved in. Perhaps trying to sleep on the couch tonight will help somewhat, I was almost able to nap yesterday for a little while.

Today just feels bad. I don’t feel hunger, my hands are unbelievably shaky, causing new accidental cuts and bruises to my skin, I need to clean and focus on studying and yet I just feel numb. Not even really hurt or pain, just absolutely nothing. It’s one of those days where it feels like it’ll feel terrible forever with no prospect of anything better, only worsened by my inclination to finally accept the finality of a’bs”s actions and decisions. I’m too tired to even blame myself for anything. It truly feels like that scene in Twilight where Bella just sits at her window and watches time pass. I don’t feel real. I suppose that’s often something I struggle with, but I’m too tired to fight back against it and try to help myself. I feel like I’m stuck in limbo due to my own confliction, perpetually destined to be unsure of what decision to make and how to save myself from my own mind. I’m so tired.

On a completely separate and much less selfish note. My heart aches for my life in Montreal and with my grandparents. I will forever wish that those five years had somehow lasted a lifetime, or that Covid hadn’t completely altered my life there in the way it did. Calling my grandfather for his 80th birthday, without being able to be there to celebrate in any way makes me feel so guilty. Not being there at all over the holidays, or even really mentally there in phone calls is so heartbreaking after feeling like they were some of the only people who ever truly understood me. I could never forget my granddad telling my mum that she raised an amazing and interesting daughter, not just because I’m his granddaughter but because he genuinely enjoyed hearing my perspective on things and discussing them with me. I miss that closeness and routine and the long rants about whatever was on his mind and I am so constantly worried about something happening to him with his bad health and being an ocean away, without having seen him in nearly a year. 

Talking to anybody in my family about my life in London is impossible without feeling some form of guilt. Some form because of my financial dependence on my dad and the life it allows me to live, guilt about the fact that I can’t help my brother in any way with his mental health, when I went through the same suicidal thoughts and depression but found a way to deal with it; can’t really help my mum in her situation because I can’t magically convince my dad to settle the divorce for a reasonable amount. I think that’s also part of why I didn’t want to spend the holidays with family in Turkey and instead spend it borderline alone here. Sometimes I can’t handle the guilt that comes with having made the decision to be selfish about my life and pursue what I wanted to by only thinking of myself. I wonder sometimes if that’s why I’m so unsure about my life here and what I want, because it’s honestly probably the only instance of the most intense selfishness I could ever have. 

I know that removing myself from the places that made it impossible for me to function, both Istanbul and Montreal by the end, is what was ultimately best for me; as by the time I left I was a shadow of myself, I don’t know how to get over the guilt of it. I’ve never known how to. It feels like a form of survivor’s guilt that I’m truly unfamiliar with in every other aspect of my life. Although I have occasionally practiced it with friends, the guilt I’ve felt then has never truly been as bad as this is. I think particularly about my brother, as I literally know the feelings of helplessness and hopelessness he’s feeling, but can’t help whatsoever. He can barely find it in himself to message me due to his guilt. I feel I’m barreling the conclusion that nobody in my family is particularly good at dealing with guilt and that’s why I’ve never really been equipped with the tools to do so. It just means that I have to learn them myself I suppose. Somehow, someway, to get on with my life without falling apart at the seams constantly.

I think I’m starting to get why people think I’m strong, despite the fact that I don’t particularly want to be. I just need to keep going, keep trying and doing whatever I can.

just finished watching Bridget Jones’ Diary:

I fear I am still not immune to romantic films and their constant portrayal of grand romantic gestures and people who are meant to be together somehow finding a way. Bridget Jones’ Diary felt eerily relatable to my current situation in life. Although not 32 yet, I feel the urgency of finding my match inevitable. In an ideal situation, ‘abs’ would return from his trip sure as ever about his feelings towards me, even if he did have sex with another woman when there, and would feel the need to make it obvious to me as soon as possible. This will not happen. Life is not a romantic comedy. Life is not a film. This sentiment echoes the song I’ve always loved ‘If This Was a Movie’ by Taylor Swift. If this were a film, he wouldn’t take this long to figure out how he feels. If this were a film, he would return early because he felt he needed to. If this were a film, he would not treat me the way he does and has for an extended period of time. 

I would love to keep blindly hoping that he’ll be sure of me, but it just is not a guarantee and is honestly at this point too much to gamble my happiness on. Having watched the film about personal improvement and finding someone who likes you the way you are clearly only furthers the ‘logical’ part of moving on. It still doesn’t change how I feel.

I keep hoping that continuously telling him how I feel, or overexplaining it would somehow trigger an epiphany of sorts that would make him feel ready to actually explore how he feels. But I suppose I’ve been beaten to it. After longer than a year of texting her, then unblocking her when he’s decided he doesn’t want to be with me, to visiting her impulsively for New Year’s Eve. This is a big romantic gesture. It’s just not for me. I meant it when I said that I hope he finds what he’s looking for there, or at least some clarity. But I think it’s time I start truly accepting that and committing to focus on myself and my own personal growth for my own sake. 

I’m aware that the high of the movie is ongoing and the main reason I’m able to reach this conclusion without really listening to my feelings or what I ‘want’. But if he’s been considering everything logically without emotion, perhaps it’s time I do the same for myself. Or rather, find a way to accept my feelings and truly attempt to move on from them, because ultimately that is probably what is best for me. Growth isn’t linear, something I am reminded of every single day, multiple times.

Having these realisations doesn’t make me feel any differently about him or what I ultimately hope still happens between us. Knowing it’s unrealistic doesn’t save me. Not when he’s still constantly on my mind.