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Illumine

My final term of University was pretty wild. Well I say the final term, it was in actual fact the last month that I was there. I had so much fun. Untold amounts of fun. I met some fantastic people. I cut loose. I needed that. After 5 months of struggle, and pain, and sweat, and tears, I just thought "fuck it, do something to make you happy Chelsea." So I did.

I have had my eyes opened to so many wonderful ideas and theories. I stayed up all night talking about philosophy, and the Universe, and life. I was intoxicated in so many ways. Substances, enthusiasm and lust were my fuel. I was living a cliché and I loved it. I felt like I was living a creative person's wet dream; so many stories to tell and characters to paint. In truth, looking at it now from a distance, with truly sober eyes, it was toxic for me.

I love the people. I love the stories. I love the memories. I would never thrive in that environment. My academic drive is my overall wave to ride. I want to do well. I need to do well. (My failure complex is one for another day). That environment was no good for me to able to achieve my goals. I am not in any way saying that the friends I made during this time are not going to achieve anything academically, some of them are the most intelligent and eloquent people I know, but it's not for me.

The lust was a huge part of the issue for me as well. Lust. I can acknowledge that for what it was now. I laugh at myself to think I could have seen anything else in it than that. It would never work. We aren't compatible. I know I have made a fantastic friend, in it for the long haul perhaps, but that's as far as it would go. (I hope if you read this, you know I am not being cruel in how bluntly I am speaking but, if anyone preaches about being happy with yourself, and your situation, and not settling for shit, it's you).

I am nearly 22 years old. I have never had a relationship that has lasted a year. I am broken, insecure, and often feel very alone.  I will not settle though. I will not throw myself into environments that I will not thrive in for the fear of losing friendships, or respect, or whatever it was I was apparently clinging on so desperately to. I am not saying I will step away from these people, or that lifestyle, completely because I won't. I wouldn't want to. I just feel like I've finally peeled the sweaty, grimey film that were covering my eyes away and I can see me again. Fuck knows how long that film was there. I know it was there long before the time I am mostly referring to, I just think it clogged up somewhat more then.

I want a relationship. I want steady and secure. I want someone to not care that I am broken. I want someone who isn't going to waltz in and try and fix me. I have friends who will love me no matter what. I have people who will hate me no matter what. That's life.

Hello Chelsea. It's nice to see you again. At last.

It's been one hectic few days. Wonderfully, surprisingly hectic. I don't even really know where to start.

I think things are looking up. My positive vibe has been on a very slow upwards climb for the last 2 months, but I am most definitely getting there now. I have great friends, I am in a fantastic part of the country, and I have enough time to relax and enjoy these two things as much as I want to. I have spent an extortionate amount of my time since Friday just sat in the sun with people and dossing about. I have drank too much alcohol, smoked too many cigarettes and danced my life away.

Thursday was celebrations for handing in all my Uni work. I wish I was able to recall more of this fantastic evening but alas the champagne and vodka stole these memories from me. I know it would have been fun though, how can it not be when I was with the people I was with. That evening also seems to have jump started something that has kept me smiling nearly all weekend.

Friday was much more chilled out. We congregated and headed to Gylly beach with 30 cans of Carlsberg and 4 litres of cider. I got very sunburnt. It was just a nice relaxing time really. Then we headed back to Campus and had a nifty little BBQ. Once tiredness set in movies called and I retired to watch My Neighbour Totoro for the first time with a good beverage and even better company. Sleep again seemed to evade me this evening.

Saturday day-time was really spent with nothing to do, after watching Howl's Moving Castle with the previous night's company, I returned home to relax before the Garden Party. I had a lovely time, didn't really get too drunk, but danced and danced and danced. I am surprised I even had enough energy to stay up until 7am with friends but I managed it.

Sunday was most definitely the time to relax fully. After waking up at around 1pm we congregated on the grass on Campus and lounged around, football was played, as was a ukulele, and good times were had by all involved. It was pretty nice to totally chill. We then headed back to the flat to watch Jungle Book but soon disbanded when the Sandman was calling. I slept from 11pm to 1.30 pm this morning.

Essentially I have had an incredible time and the fact I can't spend the Summer with all of these people is a very saddening thought.

This is not about a man.

Every word you say to me
Is like a pin-prick on my skin
Every comment that you make
I feel the ink sinking in.

The promises, the empty threats
The deals you can't fulfill
I bite and kick
And cry and scream
But I'll never get my fill.

Borderline Stockholm Syndrome
I'm addicted to your lies
I love the way you burn things up
You infiltrate my eyes.

You want me to be just like her
That girl you'll never win
Puppet Master extraordinaire
Free from mortal sin.

I'll always be below you
I'm not one of them
This complex copulation
Cut off at the stem.

Blindly do what you tell me
I know that you know best
You import your wisdom onto me
I do not need the rest.

I'm aching from conformity
An ache that fills a hole.

Could I ever freely live alone?
Is that a palpable goal?

Hey... That's Me?!

I am due to hand-in my last assignment tomorrow and then I have officially completed one year at University. Cue overwhelming sense of terror. I am sat on my bed, in some gorgeous trousers I bought at Whitechapel Market, starving but unsure whether to eat because I am not sure if I have enough food to last me to the end of term, and surrounded by mess. I am 21 years old. I am fairly sure I am meant to feel like an adult now.

A lot has happened in the last 12 months. This time last year I was working as a full-time teaching assistant. I am now (barely) a Fresher at Falmouth University with more books I will never read than I ever thought was possible. I can still barely cook, but am proud to admit that I haven't given myself food-poisoning yet. My hair is blonde, still, but in the meantime has been orange, red, pink and purple. Most of what I have learnt is in no way academic, but it's still been the most valuable time of my life.

1) To quote a Bowling for Soup song... "High School Never Ends"
I was surprised how much like my high school this Campus environment is. (NB I am sure this isn't the case as just my Campus, but that;s all I have to draw on right about now...) It is still all about who you are friends with, what you wear, who is sleeping with who, and who told you who is talking about who. I have forcibly resigned myself to the fact that this will never change. People gossip, and spend too much of their time with their noses in other people's business in a vain attempt to distract themselves from what is, or more likely isn't, going on in theirs. All I can do is try to keep my head above the mud and not get involved. Friends come and go, and my friendship group is drastically different to what  it was during my first term. That's life.That's change. That's good.

2) Sex is just sex. (...or so we tell ourselves, hoping)
I have been more than my fair share of promiscuous this year at University. I was on the verge of falling in love one, and on the verge of falling into... something.. another time. The rest of my 'bump in the night' encounters have been little more than that. A bump. An encounter. A life experience. I know that people judge me for this. If not for the mere promiscuity itself, than for my choice of partner. Essentially, all  I can think of saying to them is, "Fuck You." Again people are far too interested in other's lives than their own. Unless the person I am sleeping with is your partner, why does it affect you? Some of what I have done this year was probably a bad move. I am no less valuable as a person, especially a perspective girlfriend, just because I enjoy sex. One guy actually told me if he had known of my past, he probably wouldn't have dated me.
Here is a page from a fantastic book I have just got my hands on "Fuck, I'm in my Twenties" by Emma Koeing.

3) My family, and my home, are not as bad as I believed they were.
I have missed home a lot more than I was expecting to while at University. I have rang my mum practically every day. At least once. Before I left I expected to barely call her once a month. I value my family more than anything. I had a particularly rough time returning after Christmas and spiraled into a dark place that involved very little else than drinking and sleeping; food seemed obsolete. Knowing my mum was just at the other end of the phone made a world of difference to me. Exeter is not as bad as I thought it was, and I actually look forward to going home now. I even look forward to seeing my incredibly 'teenage' 13 year-old sister. Despite the fact that all we do is want to punch each other. My grandparents are fabulous too. Essentially, I caved to the stereotype. I love home now. A lot.

I am in no way the same person I was when I moved into this very room in September. I am more likely to cut you out if I am not interested. I can realise when I am, and when I am not, emotionally ready to let someone in, and when that person is not the right person for me. Maybe, I am a grown-up after all. Then again, today I bought half a bottle of wine back from home in an empty water bottle...

Poem

I think it's apt
That I don't remember what you said to me
We never remember anything but the
Negative comments.
Thank-you.
I don't seem to care any more that I'm surrounded by Cunts or look like a pile of
Dog Shit.

"It's not my fault, I'm Dyspraxic."

If you know me at all, then you will probably have heard me say this at least once in the last few months. I know that people are getting a tad bit fed up of it too. The fact is though, I am still at little bit in shock at this diagnosis. I am so surprised that I have managed to be in the education system for as long as I have (essentially 17 years of my life) without them picking up that I had an issue. Not only am I Dyspraxic, but I also have Scotopic Sensitivity and I am borderline Dyslexic.
A lot of people have been telling me not to worry, that I have obviously been fine the last however many years as I did well at school, reasonably well at college, and got myself into University. This is all true. All I can think though is... how well could I have done? No wonder I struggled with a sewing machine when I was doing A-Level textiles. I now understand why I struggle to make notes in lectures and classes if I struggle with changing the range of focus of my eyes, and if I have issues with processing and storing information.
In addition, it explains my incredibly hateful relationship with Physical Education at school. I always despised PE, and that is no exaggeration. I would do anything and everything to get out of a lesson. The idea of having to run around, and try to catch things, or throw things, or hit things, made me feel sick. Being the last one picked. Being laughed at. Being asked "Why do you even try?" or "God, you're not on my team, are you?". As you can imagine these do not fill a 15 year old girl full of confidence. Particularly so when said girl was perpetually given a hard time about one thing of another. My PE teachers gave me my own group at school, the "PE Special"; I was clapped when I managed to hit the tennis ball with the racket. I would very much like to go into my old Secondary School now, and present this medical diagnosis now, and see how they feel.
It has made me more aware now about the way that I go about certain tasks. I know that I can't attempt to do too many tasks at once because my brain is literally unable to cope with this. I know that I need to schedule myself more time for tasks that are more physical. I know that something that seems as simple as taking the old bin bag out the bin, is a little more tricky for me. I now understand why I struggle with household chores. So yes, I may retort to a comment you make about my prowess at my attempting to do something with "But, I'm Dyspraxic" and you may well be sick to the teeth of hearing me say it, but I'm not going to stop. I am on a journey of trying to work out what this means to me, and how it is effecting my life, and how I am going to approach certain tasks. This is new, and kinda scary, so I would very much appreciate your patience whilst bumping into walls, and furniture, and dropping things, and not knowing my left and right.