I can't stand it.

It's Monday. I'm sat looking out my living room window, watching my jungle of a garden swaying about in the wind. My skinny jeans are not-quite-skinny and my t-shirt smells like my girlfriend. Kerrang's playing softly in the background.
Sounds so.. nice, right? Would be, too.
If my faith in one particular person hadn't just been completely destroyed. But I won't let that get me down. The weekend was amazing. And I can't stop thinking about it.

There's one reason for that.
My girlfriend. No, she's not my girlfriend.
My fiancee.
She has changed my whole world.

Hey, life's pretty normal

Before I begin my actual blog, I must apologise to a certain Scotswoman. Neither of us was in the right frame of mind last night, and I took things too far. Sorry, Keeks. I love you.

I went shopping today. Had to return Size 14 shorts for Size 16 ones. I have tree trunk thighs, FML. But IDC. Coss the shorts are cute. And worth it. But the good thing? I tried on a size 12 cardigan and it FITS. FUCK YEAH. That boost my ego pure timeee. (Yeah I don't get the difference either).

My friend's just seen our old science teacher in town, apparently she put on loads of weight. I saw our old French assistant teacher this morning and she looks miserable. Shows how the leaving of the Class of '09 has put all the teachers on a downer, eh? ;]

Well, yeah.
I officially love buses today. Normally I hate them.
Why do I love them?
Well, this morning a chick sat next to me who coulda been my girlfriends twin. My girl lives about two hours away, so we don't get to see each other every day like I'd really like. So it made me happy to text her and sit next to her twin. And then, when I caught the bus home, a girl sat next to me who looked exactly like Alice Cullen from Twishite. I don't mean Ashley Greene, I mean Alice Cullen. Like, how she appears in my head. I fangasm'd so hard.

But before I got on the bus, when I was waiting at the stop, this scary, Zulu-warrior looking woman attacked an O.A.P. No one knows why. She flew across the road and punched the old woman straight in the back. A girl at the stop was like "Did she just?" I replied, "Uhuh." Her response? "What is this? I don't even!" She's now my favorite random bus-stop conversationalist ever.

Oh, and I just found out the clocky hobo has been murdered. Rest In Peace, Jools, you were the most amazing bum around town. You beat up Soley with your yoga mat, you were always drunk, and you always smelt like tobacco and wet dog. Everyone will miss you. Saturdays won't be the same without your ramblings.


Well, that's pretty much all you need to know today.
Catch you laters, lovelies.

It's either this or write a KaToph fanfic.

I've wanted to write a KaToph 'fic for days, though. Even though I haven't watched Avatar in months. I suppose it's coss now, I have my own Sugar Queen, haha. Not that a lot of people know about us. LOLjk, I'm so fuckin' happy I've told leik everyone I know. So I figured all you lot should know.

I still miss Stammers. And I miss my hamster, Spud. I know it's stupid to miss a hamster. But I do. That ginger bitch was my friend. And Stammers. Stammers was one of my best friends. It still hurts to think about her. I still want to cry when I think about her. But my girl makes it better. My Sugar Queen.

Who is she?! I hear you cry. Well, shakers and groovers, my Sugar Queen goes under the name of Coley. Or, if you ask me, Coley Cat. She's literally everything I've been searching for. To use the word "soul mate" sounds so fuckin' corny. But she is. We're completely alike, save for the love of My Chemical Romance (I'm sorry, but, Emilie Autumn + Amanda Fuckin' Palmer are where it's at, babe.)

So yeah. I figured I'd take the time to write a mushy blog.
A blog that makes me cry with happiness at the thought of everyone hearing about her.
Yet choke back tears at the remembrance that Stammers will never write again...

Coming of Age

For the first time in a long time, last night I had a night involving alcohol that I remember fully. So, I will now account to you in (almost) full detail the events which took place on the 13th of March, 2010.
I won't go into detail about the morning, but basically I went town, met George and Gareth who sang Hare Krishna at me, then Beckie and Paul came, I got my rats, went home, got changed, and came back to meet...

Chazzr, Beckie, Paul, Lottie, Megs, Deano, Lizzy and Fabz at Clocky. Why? To go to Nandos. Why? For Chazzr's eighteenth. Why? Why not? So, basically, we were at Clocky for what seemed forever. And something went off with Fabz and his ladyshape. She ignored him or something. I don't know. So he was a bit pissed about that. But anyway. That went off before I got there, so off we went to Nandos. Beckie went to me "Keep them lot back!", coss she and Paul were gonna go buy Chazzr a cake. So we got to Nandos, Paul and Beckie-less, and I rang Beckie and pretended like she'd been an idiot and walked by Nandos without realising. I made that excuse up on the spot and felt so ninja :')

Well, we had dinner. And that was nice. We sang Happy Birthday and instantly disliked the table across the way from us; For a lot of reasons. And before we left; me, Megs, and Lottie all went to the bathroom. Beckie came in when we were washing our hands. I turned and saw the ice she had, so she couldn't get me (More proof of my ninja-osity). So she shoved it straight down Meggie's top. Which I think pissed her off. But she seemed okay after a moment. So that was good.

And then we got on the bus. Which was boring. But anyway. Me, Megs, Lottie and Chazzr got off early to go to Co Op and get some munch. Then we walked to Chazzrs. Which is treks when you're carrying a bag that has a broken handle! But it was quite fun, anyway. It was fun being hyper-raped by the ice-cream too. Basically, because we'd gotten off earlier than everyone else + we'd seperated, us four waited for the other five to get back. So we nommed ice-cream and played Mario for a bit. Me and Megz were ninja's on Mario. Even though we died all the time.

Eventually everyone came back; toting bags of alcohol. And.. little else, actually. So we all got very merry on woddie and cock. And basically we all were chatting and generally being awesome for most of the night. And then at about ten o'clock, I'd stolen Lottie's glasses. So I was running round the house, slightly drunk with no depth perception what-so-ever. And so when I legged it into the kitchen, Lottie followed me. In an attempt to get away, I turned and SMACK! my forehead said hello to the kitchen door. Well, anyway, that HURT.

So Chazzr dragged me upstairs (Literally. My legs had stopped working.), and burst into the bathroom. Where a very drunk Lizzie was lying on Deano's legs. And we were like "LOLOL- I NEED PARACETEMOL!" So, like, I got some. Then my legs were working enough for me to get back down the stairs and throw myself on the sofa. But before I'd even gotten paracetamol (Or was it after? That big I don't remember), I'd been walking around going "KISS MY FOREHEAD BETTER! DO IT!" so everyone did. Which was fun. And Lottie eventually joined me on the sofa. And so did Megs. And we were all snuggling and stuff.

And then we were talking about kissing girls. Turns out Lottie is VAIR promiscous, and Megs had never kissed a girl. Well, she won't be able to say that again! I think how it happened was- Me and Lottie had been cuddled on the sofa, and Fabs went "If you two are lezzing out, let me know and I'll stay right here!" and we were like "Nah, we're just cuddling." so he left to go for a fag. Then Lottie kissed me on the cheek, so I looked at her, and she kissed me on the lips. For a long while. And if it happened that way, then Megs walked in and went "Lottie! Really!" But then she joined us on the sofa anyway, and they were kinda snuggling into my boobs :')

And then we got on to the subject of kissing girls. I think we spoke about it for the second time? I don't remember. But anyway.. Megs was like "I've never kissed a girl, or anyone with a tongue peircing" and Lottie replied "Are you hinting at something, Megs?" and eventually we ended up making out. Which was nice. And then basically it was a massive lezipile on the sofa with ocassional snuggling. Lottie is nice to cuddle.

And then I got a phonecall off of my Dad, and he was like, "I'm outside." By this point everyone was back in the living room. Megs had been talking to everyone, and everyone else wasn't paying much attention to Lottie and I. So I was like, "I have to go, babe." and she replied, "Well, I suppose we should have a goodbye make out." So we did. And then people were like "WAHEY! LEZZERS IN THE CORNER!" and then I made out with Megs to say byebye. And then I went to find my shoes and jacket. Then, as I was just about to walk out the door (Holding my shoes coss I was too pissed to put them on), Paul came up to me and went, "Those two would like another kiss!" So, for the final time, I went back in to the living room and kissed them. Bless.

Then, I got in the car, and went home. And.. Like.. that's it, really. The end.

Maybe I've gone mad

Sometimes you have to take life with a pinch of salt. But sometimes you think, "Fuck the fucking salt, you fucker. I want to be fucking upset for a bit. Fuck off."
I don't want pity, or anything else. I just want to retreat into my mind, write shitty poetry and draw crap pictures. It's funny how when I think I'm getting better, even just a little bit, something pulls me back and slaps me in the face. And each time it's like it's going "Haha! Fuck you! Gotcha!" This, my dears, is my loving friend, Depression.

Depression has a twin. And Depression's twin is called Crying. And those two, they have a cousin. Their cousin is called Self Harm. But there are people in the world who can beat the shit out of that family that invade my brain when I don't have the strength to.

Therapists, sure, they're okay. But pets are better. You can talk and talk and talk and not once do they stop you, push up their glasses and go "Now, how do you feel about that?" They just look at you and nuzzle you like, "So, can I have food?" Kinda like when Emily Fitch told Thomas she was gay, and he just went "Shall we get a taxi?"
Everyone needs a Thomas. Or a pet. Better than therapists most of the time.

Have I gone mad? Am I insane? Do I care?...

Just shut up and listen

I'm actually going to talk about something deep today. This might be filled with spelling mistakes and stuff, coss I don't have spell check. And I'm too lazy to find a good one online. Before the heavy stuff, I feel I must push my other sites:
http://littlemethany.tumblr.com
http://formspring.me/littlemethany
http://www.twitter.com/little_methany

Well, that's all of 'em. That I want you to have, anyway.
So, now, you can shut up and listen. This is kind of inspired by Becca's small blog on http://omgitsbeccamcfly.tumblr.com/ She's such an amazing young woman. And I'm sorry if that's patronizing, Becca, but you're so much more grown up than a kid. So I don't mean it to be patronizing, I mean it to be a compliment. She (or if you're reading this, Becca, then YOU) are so brave, to admit her/your problems. And I really love her/you for that.

Like Becca, I am someone who is a self-harmer. Not proudly, but I am. I'm also Bipolar (Manic Depressive, as it's also known.) Which, is basically where I have no control over my emotions; I can go from being euphorically happy to crying and depressed with no reasoning whatsoever. I have it under control, kinda, but due to my parents both having suffered with mental depression, I'm kind of a case to keep an eye on. That's not nice, actually. Being considered a 'case'. Even though that was my own wording. We're all people, all with problems. No one's a case. Everyone's important.

But sometimes, I forget how important I am. And sometimes, I feel so much on the inside that I can't control; That I have to create feelings on the outside that I can control. And how do you make something controllable? You do it yourself. To yourself. Until the feelings inside are less than the ones outside. Or the ones outside are just taking your mind off everything inside.

Ah, yes, I'm also slightly schitzophrenic (If you've read my profile, you'll know that anyway). Which sometimes means that the things I do are done to stop me from being me. That makes no sense, I know. Don't worry, I still haven't figured it all out yet. I don't think I ever will. But that isn't always a bad thing. Or is it?

Let me put it this way, so you can make your mind up whether self-harming is as bad as it seems: When I pick up a blade, a pin, whatever, and make myself bleed a little bit, the voice inside my head stops screaming. And the desire to kill myself is shushed a little. Not a lot of people know, but most of the time I think about ways to kill myself. Like, I see a car going fast and think "If I jump out right now, that'll be it, no more Meffy." Or I see rope on a tree from some kids making a swing and my mind goes "You might crap yourself, but it'll be fast. 'Snap', and no more you."

Yeah, scary, isn't it? Well, not really. Sooner or later you get used to your brain thinking in ways to kill yourself. Some people would say that once you percieve thoughts like that as normal, you've gone insane. But surely it's better to accept yourself, and your thoughts, than constantly live in fear of the two?

And what if I am insane? What if everything that's happened in my life so far has led to my insanity? My self-harm? My everything else? If none of my past had happened, I wouldn't be where I was. I might not be bipolar, or schitz, or scarred. But I might also not be part of a wonderful group of friends. I might also not be so accepting of who I am. I might also not be living the amazing life I have right now.

Should I be ashamed, or angry, about my past? No. Or, maybe you think I should. But that doesn't matter, not what you think. Because if there's one thing I learnt; Life's too short to not be happy.

The Dragon.

Princess, you don't want this,
No throne, no crown, no Prince,
I've seen you in the courtyard,
when no one's around,
I've watched you dance barefoot,
over leaves that make no sound.

This love'll be a fairytale,
something old folks'll tell,
You'll be the Princess,
locked in the tall tower,
I'll be the guy in armour,
rusting and tired saviour.

But Daddy expects, and Daddy wants,
appointed a saviour and more,
And Mommy loves, and Mommy needs,
your tale will be one of lore.

But behind every tower there's a Dragon,
with green scales and sharp teeth,
On every misson their's an obstacle,
but what if that obstacle is... Me.

Welcome to Leicester

Goooodafternoon, bloggers. I've been up about an hour, maybe two. Becca's comfy to sleep with.. Okay, that sounded filthier than it was supposed to. Oh well :')
Our Harry Potter Marathon turned into a Harry Potter and the Philosphers Stone watching, then sleep. LOLOL. Coss moshing takes it out of you. I now have a massive red mark on my foot from where someone stamped on it in stilletoes, and a lump on my head from where a bottle hit me. Aaaaand bruises on my back from Katie and Mollie's deathpunching. EPIC.
Anyway. Fucking gig. Last night.

Me and Becca turned up just as Canada Water had finished their set. Which was a bit of a piss take, as we spent £14 to get in. But the another band came on, I think it was Casio Kid, and it was like "YEAHFUCKINGMENTAAAAAAL!" And yeah. And everytime we went into the smokers 'room', someone (Ahem, Brad) started up a chant of "LET'S GO FUCKIN' MENTAL, LET'S GO FUCKIN' MENTAL, LALALALA, HEY! LALALALA, HEY!" Unfortunately some people took that too literally, and about 50 fights almost nearly started in the mosh pit. And then Amy Can Flyy came on, and Abi and Martha were singing along coss Mark kept putting the mike to them. They are all now BFF's. Lucky. Anyway. That was all fucking insane. And then, like, everyone was like "Oh, I can smell weed" and we could. Coss some fucker was smoking a shittonne of it. I was kinda stood there going "Mmmmn, weed." AND THEN IT WAS LIKE "OMFGCOPPERS!"
But then someone was like "SIT DOWN PROTEST!" and the last band, that didnt get to play, sat down with us, and joined in the chants of "THIS IS FUCKIN' BULLSHIT!" And they were lovely, they were.
But then the cops were like "STAND UP AND MOVE OUT, GIG'S CANCELLED!"

And it took the piss, coss me and Becca went downstairs when the coppers came upstairs telling us to leave, so we could go get our coats. THEN the coppers came downstairs, and told us to leave again. I was like 'WTFDUDE, stop following us!'. So we went back upstairs (Since that was the way we needed to go to leave) AND ONCE MORE, the cops followed us and repeat their warning that we needed to leave.

So, then, like, finally we were stood outside. And we got talking to the last band's promotional dude (Who was wearing an Amy Can Flyy badge, on his hat, bless). He'd been there since two o'clock, waiting for the last band. And he was really, really pissed off that they hadn't played. So Becca gave him a fag and he kind of like worshipped her for a little bit. Which was nice. And then we waited outside Subway for a little bit with Katie and her mummy. And Katie's mummy is nice, she is. And then they left, and mon pa picked us up.

Which leads us back to the beginning of this blog with the Harry Potter not-a-thon. So, all in all, last night was pretty fucking epic. I want a fag.