This is the section where I write a really quirky or motivational quote from one of my favourite authors, but honestly I think you just should just take a look around. It’s worth it, I promise.
Like most people, Ava was having a pretty average day. She had woke up that morning, and after laying in bed for what seemed like forever but was in reality only 5 minutes, she got herself out of bed. She went about her usual routine: first, check face in the mirror just in case it had somehow changed during her sleep, check her teeth in case any had dropped out during the night, pop a pill to make sure she didn’t pop out any babies. The usual.
She had just gotten out of the shower and was wrapped in her favourite Winnie the Pooh towel when she heard a strange beeping noise. Must be the central system, she thought. She ignored and went to get dress. It soon became too loud to ignore. She ran downstairs to try and locate the source of the beeping and also wondering where her parents were.
She found the panel that controlled the central system, but everything seemed to be in perfect order. Brows furrowed, she turned around quickly when something glittery caught her eye. Reader, the old idiom “curiosity kills the cat” never fails to be applied in situations like this. We shall humour Ava’s story for now.
At this point, Ava had now walked towards the glittery something and was shocked to discover that the glittery something was actually a glittery someone, and it was a glittery 3 foot tall. She wasn’t sure how to describe the person because she had never seen anyone like that.
The glittery someone in question was called Leroy. You’ll find out all about him later, reader.
“Pleased to meet your acquaintance,” said Leroy. Ava seemed to be in a state of shock, but it was hard to tell because she only ever really had one expression. Resting bitch face.
“Who the hell are you?” was the first thing that she said.
“What the hell are you?” was the second thing that she said.
And finally, “Why are you waving at me with a remote control?” was the last thing she said.
It sounds dramatic, I know, but what story doesn’t have suspense. You’re probably wondering in your head why did Ava have to go and check out the glittery thing. Some things we will never know. People are just naturally drawn to discovering things, and Ava was one of them. Like that time she discovered she was of those people that could lick their elbow. Or that time she discovered that she could sing even with her mouth closed. She was pretty chuffed with that one. So, reader, you’ll find it understandable that Ava would go and check out the glittery thing and then next thing you know end up in the middle of Trafalgar Square surrounded by more people than she thought necessary.
Whilst she recognised Trafalgar Square, it definitely didn’t look like the Trafalgar Square that she knew. Her Square didn’t haven’t lions and columns and people pissing in the fountain. Her Square, also, most certainly did not have a big thumbs up sculpture that seemed to be mocking anyone that gazed at it for even a mere second. “Oh, you’re visiting the National Gallery because you want to be enlightened and cultured? Greeaaaattttt, for you. Really (insert thumbs up here).”
Ava was overwhelmed again. It was a feeling she got often these days.
It was 7:30 a.m. when she pulled open the curtains of her penthouse hotel room. There before her, sharing the morning sky, were both a huge moon and the bright sun. The sight took her breath away and she… instinctively leant forward as if she could possibly get closer to this phenomenon. It had been a rough couple of weeks, and this sight alone was enough to lift her spirits. From everything that had happened with Danny to her mother and father breaking the news that they were getting a divorce, it was no wonder she had escaped to this hotel room located as far away as possible from her home.
She turned her back to the window and surveyed the room she was staying in. She could see where she had haphazardly dropped her bag, the contents spilling on the floor, and her shoes strewn on the floor right by the bathroom where she had hurtled towards when she first entered the room and proceeded to vomit in the toilet. She knew she shouldn’t have gone for those after work drinks, but sometimes the only way to forget her problems was through alcohol.
Her phone was now vibrating silently, and she gently padded over to the bedside table to check it out. It was a Saturday morning, and she couldn’t think of anyone who would be contacting her this early in the morning. The phone finally silenced but then a split second later it lit up again, this time, it seemed, with more urgency. Her eyebrows furrowed as she picked up the phone to find that it was an ‘Unknown ID’ calling her. She was not going to pick that up. She made it a habit not to answer calls from numbers she didn’t know; majority of the time they turned out to be PPI calls or ‘You’ve been involved in a car accident recently…”, which was ridiculous because she couldn’t even drive.
The phone silenced again so she threw her phone onto the bed before heading to the bathroom to see the damage the night before had done. As predicted, she had mascara trails on her face, eyeliner that had smudged and lipstick that could definitely look better. She rolled her eyes at herself but also chuckled because despite looking like a hot mess she knew she had fun the previous night. Sometimes, she thought, you’ve just got to let yourself loose.
Her heart sped up at the sound of her own name. Who the hell was in her room? She certainly didn’t notice anyone when she woke up. Was it because she was still hungover and in a state of undress that she didn’t notice? She was starting to slightly sweat now, slightly panic, slightly everything. She reached for the closest thing to her, which happened to be a toothbrush, and held it out in front of her as she walked slowly out of the bathroom. What she was going to do with the toothbrush, she had no idea. She knew full well that bristles were the least likely to hurt anyone, yet she felt a modicum of safety in holding it anyway.
“Woah, woah, woah!”
The toothbrush clattered to the floor as she took in the sight before her. It was Charlie. Her damned colleague. What the fuck had happened?
She took in the sight in front of her. Charlie was still wearing his work shirt from yesterday but was only in his boxer briefs. He looked dishevelled as if he hadn’t slept all night. Her mind crept to thoughts about what might have happened but she sent them scuttling away because she wasn’t ready to deal with that just yet.
“Ruth? You alright?”
She snapped out of her reverie and looked at Charlie who was looking at her with amusement. This was probably because she was still holding her arms out in front of her in a karate chop style as if she was actually going to attack him. She dropped her arms to her side and stood up straight. She wasn’t really sure what to do and she felt incredibly awkward standing in front of Charlie with only her underwear and a baggy t-shirt on. Again, her mind wanted to creep but she pushed the thoughts away. Not yet. Not now.
“I mean…” She glanced at Charlie, who was scratching his beard. Strangely enough, she noticed that it looked well kept despite him looking rough. How did he do that? When she woke up in the morning, her hair was sticking up on end and she had the worst case of eye crust every time. Even his hair looked neat. It was only his clothes that looked crumpled. She was starting to get increasingly annoyed, but she wasn’t sure why. Irrational annoyance at someone’s appearance? That’s how she knew it was way too early in the morning, “… nothing happened, if that’s what you’re wondering…”
The elephant in the room ran away.
She was not even aware that there was an elephant in the room until she saw it’s big behind charging away into the distance. She felt a breath, that she didn’t know she had been holding in, leave her. At the end of the day, she was still with Danny and even though they had fought, she could never do that to him. At least this now confirmed it to her. Charlie was now pacing around the room, casually picking up things that had dropped on the floor: a pair of trousers, some keys and a leaflet for discounted pizza from the dirty pizza place around the corner. She watched him, somewhat with affection as she really thought about it. Nothing could ever happen between them, he was her oldest friend and he always had respect when it came to her relationship with Danny. He was always there for her when she needed to cry, rant, drink copious amounts of alcohol and eat all of the dirty food, but he always did it with a distance, so to say.
She wondered why she thought something had happened this time.
Things you want to say:
You make me nervous. You seem so sure of yourself. You know what you want in life. What would you want with someone who is so frivolous? Who would rather lay around watching television all day? Who wants to travel the world, instead of settling down? I’m your pastime, aren’t I? I’m the girl you go to when you’re bored because you know that I will never say anything to you about how I feel. I’m the stopover. I don’t want to be the stopover, though. I’m tired of being someone’s maybe, but never someone’s definitely. I want definitely. I want to be told that my whimsical ways are okay – we can figure out everything, together. I know what I want in life, but I’m at a crossroads. I’m tired of being mediocre, but I don’t know how to pass that stage in my life.
I don’t actually have anything to say, really. I just want to burst into tears at any given moment. I hold it together, so that when people ask me if I’m fine, I’ve convinced myself so much that I am, that I can easily grin at them and say, “What? Of course!” I need downtime, all the time, but there’s never any time.
Why should you let men treat you like you’re a toy? A person who they can call and you come running, because you know deep down you’re lonely and you feel like the only way to fill the void is to have some sort of male presence in your life. You go for the unobtainable ones. The ones who take forever to text back. The ones that when you go out twice, there’s really not much to say but the sex is great. You like the way he compliments you on your skills. You like the way you can back up into him. You like it all. Yet you feel uneasy afterwards on the way home. You’re not sure if he actually wants something other than sex from you. You feel that it’s too early to bring it up – you barely know each other. Yet, there’s this feeling. All of these feelings. It always comes down to feelings at the end of the day. How do you play this game? Someone should teach you because you feel like you’re losing. A lot.
Your only release is writing words on a page that you know no-one will ever read. You want to be open about your feelings, you want to be that person who is straight up about everything, but you know you will never be that person. Not yet. Perhaps in the future, but you’re not at a point in your life to be compromising yourself like that. Putting yourself out there is scary. Too scary. You’re so tired. Too tired of all the bullshit.
When will you find someone who will appreciate you and want to show you off to the world, and who treats you like a queen? Not someone who is texts you that they “need someone cute to lay next to them”, but never actually makes plans to meet you in real life. You’re not about the online relationships anymore. The last time completely ruined you. Not someone who makes plans with you, but when it comes to the actual date has nothing to say. Not someone who is so fucking boring.
Watching films and seeing people being happy makes you want to cry because you want to be that person. That person who knows exactly who they are and what they want. Deep down, you know what you want – you’re just finding it hard to obtain that dream because maybe, just maybe, you’re trying too hard. Maybe, after all, it is like the films and it will just fall all into place. The next step? Stop chasing. Stop chasing after things that you know will never go anywhere. Have your fun. Hell, have your fun – but always think about you. Put yourself first. Put your needs first. Make your own dreams come true. Don’t sink into anyone’s “dick sand”.
If you could write a letter to yourself dated a couple of months back, what would you say?
Would you tell yourself not to go for that guy? Would you tell yourself not to date two guys at the same time? Would you tell yourself to be more honest with people? Your best friend. Your mother. Yourself. Would you tell yourself to enjoy the single life more? Were you just in the game because you, as mentioned before, were trying to fill a void? You learned. You lived. You maybe loved. It was an experience and you’re better off for it – so, perhaps, you needn’t change anything. Everything we do in life sets up the next step to where we are meant to be. The people around us, the everyday actions we do, what we read, listen and watch all have an effect on our lives. We are a product of everything we interact with. It may be a good thing, it may be a bad thing – only you would know that for sure.
Write everyday. Lose yourself in a good book. Watch a really funny film. Do something that keeps you active because otherwise you will sink into a hole of self-pity – something that you know full well you shouldn’t be in. You’re lucky. You think you have it hard, but if you truly, really, madly, deeply think about it – you are lucky. You have a job. You have friends. You have a family who supports you. The only way to get what you want now is to be a go-getter. Write that fucking book that you tell everyone so arduously about, but haven’t actually written anything further in years. Write short stories. Write for your blog. Write about everything. Become inspired. Realise that you don’t need to go travelling to be inspired. That writer’s block you keep thinking is there? IT DOESN’T EXIST. That is yourself putting up a wall because you’re scared. Remember when you used to write about everything and anything and had no cares in the world? Be that person, again. Writer’s block is a psychological thing that you made up yourself, and if you wanted to write you just would. You’re doing it now. Look at those fingers go, girl. You got this. You’re going to become the next superstar. You’re going to write a book and you don’t even care if it’s not a bestseller – you’re going to write a fucking book and you’re gonna achieve your goal.
This is something that needs to be published. You need to put this up there to show people that you’re not afraid to write about your feelings anymore. You’re free. You’ve always been free, but it just took you a long time to see that.