Broken Bella Donna











Oh. My. Lord.

Just re read the last three pages of this blog.

It reads like I’m an obsessed weirdo. Like I spend all my time thinking about one bloke, obsessing over him.

I’m really not like that, I promise. I just… use here to vent, to arrange my thoughts. Because I don’t have anyone else to talk to about it, it’s like a ‘Dear Diary’ kinda scenario. Still, reading back on it makes me look (and feel) like such a lamearse.

Oh dear. Thank god no one reads this. Or they’d call the cops (ha ha!) on me for stalking…

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I feel like a regular bundle of uncertainty at the present. The second catch up went well – too well in fact. He was evidently ‘having a moment’. I did not misinterpret when I thought that he wanted to back off from our friendship, this much he admitted (eventually). However he has now changed his mind and wants things back to ‘normal’. How do I interpret that? Did time spent with his wife make him feel bad, and now he isn’t spending as much time with her, he feels less bad? Did he miss me and want back what we had? Has he settled things within his mind? I don’t know, and he won’t tell, but the question I am forced to ask myself is: Do I want to allow myself, my feelings, my actions to be dictated by someone else? Will I ask how high when he says jump? Will I give in to our friendship, just to wonder how long it will be before it happens again? Or will I now hold you at arms length because you’ve tarnished the shiney wonderful relationship that we had, and it’ll never be the same?

I sicken myself when I have to admit that yes. I will do all of the above. I will let you get away with this bullshit treatment you’ve handed me for the last month, because I miss you and I want you in my life. And I have to acknowledge that you too are a damaged person, and that I have to keep an open mind – I know I haven’t always been a wonderful person to be friends with, for a lot of people so perhaps it’s time I got a bit of my own back.

But I did manage to say no when he wanted to come over and hang out. That’s what triggered all this last time. How he had the balls to think he could – even after admitting he wishes he’d never come over last time – amazes me. One day… perhaps. But water needs to pass under the bridge, things need to be resolved, and I need to be in a happier place before that happens.

And I am on my path to that happier place now.

Life, dare I say it, has smoothed out – more or less. Have been feeling some trepidation this week, unsure if it has been caused by the aforementioned Pervy Policeman or the pending spazz inducing situation this week, which hasn’t been bothering me but this is the first time it has occured in a month, so perhaps the break has been too long? We’ll find out come Saturday morning.

The health of my four legged children isn’t a concern at present (always a huge stress for me), same applies to my own. Though I have had some dizzy spells + ear issues that reminded me of The Great Potential Ear Debacle of last year. (Lets hope that doesn’t flare up again!)

The Big Project is toddling along still, slower than I had intended but any progress is forward progress! Have nearly finished the step we are on now, and the next step is a scary one – requires a lot of work from me (hopefully, if I’m any good at it) and some learning. I hate learning new physical stuff – bookwork I’m great with but I’m always terrified to fuck up physical stuff. Pervy Policeman reckons he can do it so I intended to get him to drop in and help but… we’ll see.

Homework is progressing in an upwardly fashion. I finally bought myself a prsent – a tablet (whoo!). I am not hating life and everything that is in it.

I will not be so stupid as to declare that things are going well for me – we’ve seen the results of that, time and time again – but I am happier with life than I was this time three, four weeks ago. I can see the end goals and I am working towards them again. I still feel unsure about many aspects of my life, but I can once again listen to music without wanting to stab myself in the face with a sharpened housebrick.

I do wish I could handle life better, and like myself more for who I am – not from how others make me feel. I keep wondering how different my life would be if I had felt acceptance from my family, like most others do. If I could feel like this all the time?



Brrr. I feel cold. But this time, physically cold, not cold in my being.

Feeling calmer about life. Calmer now that things have simmered down, that things even came to a head in the first place. That weird build up in my heart and mind, knowing that I was wrong, but incapable to do anything about it.  Now things have been done. Words have been said. I have been forced to back off and sort shit out.

We spoke – briefly – things were said, nothing was clarified, but most importantly¬† we spoke as normal, as friends, with no careful stepping or frostiness; we spoke with emotion and comfort. And that’s all I need to say on that topic tonight.

So I am feeling calm. Calmer. I did chuck a total wobbly earlier tonight, over something as silly as cooking, so perhaps I’m just incorrectly channelling my anger. But I FEEL calmer. My mind is more at peace. I am less stressed about the health of my lovely furry friends, I am feeling better about relationships in my life, I am feeling better about myself, most importantly.

I sure am a complex little bundle of fun. The older I get, the more I learn about myself, but I also find that in spite of this learning, I am still incapable of changing the parts of myself I dislike. Do I keep working on this, and try to become someone I like? Or do I work on surrounding myself with people who like me, and screw the rest? I think, deep down I am already the person that I would like to be – but it’s the negativity that surrounds me that drowns her. The simple removal of the negative black parts of my life, and the introduction and encouragement of the beautiful components – relationships with great people, forward progress, positivity – is enough to make me a happy person. I know this, because it’s happened to me before, three times that I can think of in the past decade. I need to learn to be that person without the requirements that seem to be on the table now. I need tolearn to be that person ON MY OWN.

Ah. That old chestnut. You need to learn to love yourself before anyone else can love you!

How the fuck do you learn how to do that? Especially when how you feel about yourself seems to be tied up so intricately with how others view you?

I could make a list of things I liked about myself, add a new one every day but on down days, I’m only going to look at that list and pick it apart, smear it in anger. I could ask other people and use their feedback to make myself feel better, but I’d only think they were lying, or that they’d think I was attention seeking, fishing for compliments. I could try speaking positive reinforcements to myself every day in the mirror but sometimes the act of staring into my own eyes can throw me down the well of despair. I could try meditation but finding a quiet, comfortable spot here is impossible, and the puppy does not permit!

It is – once again – time I tried making an effort. An effort to accept the person that I am, and understand that she is trying very hard to be the best she can be, and that is enough.



I keep wanting to blog… about anything but you… just for the sake of allowing some of the pressure building up in my brain to come out. I have so much more rattling around in this vague little blonde head of mine than what is represented on here – but for some reason when I’m here, I just want to wank on about all the shit I can’t talk about IRL, either because the people I talk to know you, and don’t know the situation, or because the people I could talk to don’t know you and don’t know the situation and it’s just too unbelievable for me to explain.

So it becomes a very miniscule part of my life, what is said on this blog, and made to look so much bigger than what it perhaps is – usually. Sometimes it really is that big.

Hmm.

You have popped onto chat five times tonight, first time you’ve done that since when we were close, and at least one of those times you were on for quite a few minutes. Are you checking to see if I left you a message? Are you doing something else? Is your phone really doing what you claim it does, and signing you in when you’re not there? Who knows. What I do know is I feel no urge to message you tonight, no need to chase you and try to touch base, to find you, to read your words (usually I’d have said ‘hear your voice’ but on the medium that is the internet… no).

Part of me is happy because I feel like I’ve moved on. Another part of me is rebelling against this concept because I don’t WANT to. I don’t want to lose our connection. I want to still want to be close, like we were. Like I think we can be again when things simmer down. Otherwise we’re going to drift apart and just be associates, and I hate that idea, but it’s what I do. It’s what I strongly suspect you do.

And you just logged on for a chat. And so far it seems like we might even talk ‘normally’ instead of this frosty shit you’ve been giving me on the rare occasion we’ve traded words in the last three weeks.

Wish me luck.



One day I’ll feel healed enough to blog about something else. But not today.

I am going to make a list of all the things you’ll never know… either because you simply don’t understand, because I’ll never feel comfortable telling you, because you don’t need to know, because it’d make things more awkward or simply – and this is the front runner at present – because it seems like you’re never going to bother to take the time to talk to me again.

It’s only been a week since we last spoke, and just over a fortnight since we last spoke properly, and that all seems dramatic, but that’s how it feels to me right now.

So… all the things you’ll never know…

How much you’ve changed my life. I’ve tried to explain but it’s been in vain.

How angry I am with you, for making this decision with no regard to my feelings, simply what is good for you.

How much I regret seeing you that night, because it ruined everything.

That I believe you’re almost entirely to blame for this, as master of your own decisions and behaviour, and how you ignored my concerns that this could blow out and get messy – turns out I was right.

That I love you, in spite of all this. But not necessarily ‘in love’.

How hard it has been for me to come to that realisation, as someone who hasn’t ‘loved’ before, and then have it so drastically torn from me.

That I know you’re lying when you say you don’t get online, it’s your phone. It isn’t your phone.

That I know you’re lying when you say you’re not avoiding me.

That it upsets me to think that you can drop back to this occasional friendship with such a cavalier attitude, like I meant nothing anyway so it’s easy for you.

That I know you’re lying about that too. And is pisses me off no end that you can’t be fucking honest with me.

That I regret telling you all my secrets, because at the end of the day, they meant nothing.

That I will never… ever… make that mistake again.

That I mourn my last chance at happiness – and my first – and now I have to admit to myself that I have nothing, and will continue to have nothing for the rest of my life.

That things seem so empty for me at the moment, I can’t enjoy things that I usually enjoy, I can’t get passionate about things, I just… don’t care enough.

That I haven’t been given a chance to say what I want to say, instead I have to let you do and say what you want, and shut up about it, because you make me feel like I’m being overly dramatic and emo if I say anything.

That you can just walk away from our friendship and that’s that – you have others in your life you can connect with, you don’t have to explain the sudden loss to anyone. Whereas I’m stuck explaining to people why I’m suddenly not communicating with you, why you’re never here, why we don’t talk online, why I suddenly don’t talk about you anymore. I’m stuck with no one to talk things out with and no one to accept me, and I’m once again disappearing into my black hole of despair.

That I’ve spent the last ten days weighing up different ways to kill myself, and which one would work best, be successful, hurt the least, whatever. So hey. There you go – turns out I’m not the person you thought I was. But that makes us even, cause you’re not the person I thought you were either.

That I’ve wondered, if I did go ahead and top myself (I have no plans to, non existent reader), would you be the one to come out and deal with it? How would you feel? Would you know that you were the tipping point that caused me to go over the edge?

That I hate walking into my own backyard of a night. I hate the stars, the night, the couch. I hate the cold, my blanket, the driveway. I hate my house, my music, my clothes. I hate my phone, my facebook account, myself. I hate everything that makes me think of you and right now, everything makes me think of you.

I feel like shutting my facebook down. I feel like hurling my phone against a wall. I feel like cutting off all my hair, going on a diet binge, just… going for a long walk and forgetting to come home. I want to change everything about myself just to get away from me. I want to book a one way ticket out of here, get tattoos, start a war against myself. I want to tell everyone who pisses me off to go fuck themselves, I want to rage against everything that rages against me instead of sitting here, meek and quiet, doing what I’m told.

I want to BE someone else. I don’t want to be me, I’m so bloody over me at the moment.

If it’s so easy for you to walk away from me, to leave me alone, why can’t it be that easy for me? It’s alright for you. I’m fucking stuck with me.



They say that people walk into your life and stay for a day, a week, a season, a lifetime… to teach you something. To help you learn, to educate, whatever.

I like that as a concept but now I’m not so sure?

I think… I have learnt something from you. I have learnt that I am capable of love for another person. Not necessarily romantic love, but any type of love at all – the heart swelling love, that leaves you happy. That leaves you feeling accepted and worthy of anothers time. The sort that makes you feel good about yourself, that makes you accept yourself and begin to, dare I say it, love yourself. The sort of love I thought myself incapable of. Is it coincidence that at the same time – the same day, possibly moment? – that I was realising this, that I found myself at long last comfortable with the thought… you were deciding that we could no longer share the bond that we had, that we had to back it off? I have seemingly learnt my life lesson from you. I do hope this doesn’t mean our connection is over, and that we will now dwindle off to strangers, ships in the night.

I wonder what I have taught you? I hope… nothing. Because if this theory is true, then this means that we cannot seperate just yet, not if you haven’t gained some benefit for having had me in your life. Perhaps you have learnt yours from me – that you are incapable of straying, whether it be physically or mentally. Which is a valuable lesson for you to learn, even if it is at the expense of our friendship.

Now all the dust has settled, I am calm. I understand that this is not necessarily a rejection of me (thought it may prove to be, yet) but an acknowledgement of the co dependant relationship we had developed. I am still sad for the loss of that relationship, because, well, I enjoyed it, but I understand that it wasn’t necessarily the healthiest relationship for us and certainly not for you, considering your circumstances. We had built it up to represnt too much, and made the other person far too important in our respective lives… to get back to what we were a short while ago – talking occasionally but regularly, having great convos without getting into four, five hour marathons, keeping the conversation above board – I look forward to getting back to that. I look forward to getting back to a wonderful friendship that no one needs to hide. It will be nice to not have to pretend, in fear of other people not understanding and misinterpreting our bond as something more.

No pretending to not be talking to each other, no lying about when we log off, no asking leading questions, no inappropriate offers or plans. God the whole thing really was starting to feel dirty to me, and I know I told you this. I know I flat out told you that we were on a slippery slope, I know I told you I didn’t like a few things you said, that they felt wrong and too secretive. Frankly, the more I think about it the more I know that you’re the one who was pushing the envelope too hard, you’re the one who was growing increasingly more inappropriate – and yet I’m the one whose being punished for it.

That (not entirely) unrelated note actually pisses me off. Really, this whole disruption to our friendship is your choice, your call, and a result of your behaviour, because it’s making you feel and look bad, and affecting you and your relationships. There’s no shame in what I’ve been doing, and I would have to change very little in order to keep everything above board for everyone. My entire sin has been developing too close of a friendship with a married man. Any inappropriate feelings I’ve had, I’ve kept to myself. I’ve never told you how I felt. In fact I flat out told you I wasn’t interested in you in that way. I never instigated the inappropriate conversations, though I suppose I could’ve shut them down better, or faster than I did. I suppose all I did was become needy, and clingy, which may have sent signals – whether they be right or wrong. And I feel like the one being punished. I lose my best friend, because you didn’t handle the situation like you should’ve.

The further we get away from my birthday, when this all came to a head, the better (emotionally)¬† I feel about it – sadly this is a result of me getting back to my disinterested self, the self that feels bored, disenchanted, disengaged. Which I actually hate. I loved that person I had become. I loved feeling. That person was comfortable and happy, and spazz free. That person wanted to change her life for the better, and felt like she could, because she had support. Now I’m going to go back to that misery guts I was before. I already feel myself becoming negative and bored again, I find myself questioning how I felt when I was happy and assuming that it was just a buzz, and that none of it was really true, it was just hormones, or whatever.

I need you to talk to me, like we used to, before things got weird. I need you to come and remind me of the wonderful friendship we had built up, before it started turning diabolical. I need you to remind me that I am a person who is worthy of a nice friendship. If you don’t, we’re going to lose that, and all of this pain will have been in vain and I will just melt back into the shell of a person that I can be… I need your support. More than you’ll ever understand.

Does she realise what we’ve sacrificed for her?



I wish things had been different, started out different, turned out different.

I wish I had told you how I felt when I had the chance – not because it would’ve changed anything, in fact it may have made things go downhill sooner, but at least then you’d know and I’d know how you felt about it.

I wish you had never come over that night. We didn’t even do anything wrong but I assume that there was so much more going on in your head than I knew, because it seems to be the crux of the whole situation. If you’d never come over, things would never have changed.

I wish I had told you to back off when I had the chance, and we could’ve kept things a bit more above board, and we’d still be friends.

I wish you’d been more honest with me about your thoughts.

I wish I’d been less honest with you about mine.

I wish I’d asked you about your stupid ‘friend’ when I had the chance. Now I’ll never find out what the hell it is and it’s going to drive me nuts.

I wish we’d logged off about two hours earlier than we did nearly every time, and it may never have come to this.

I wish – sometimes – we’d never got to know each other at all… but then I realise that I wouldn’t have missed our friendship for the world. But now I know what I’m missing in life – that close bond with someone who just accepts you for who you are, someone you can look forward to talking to, someone who helps you understand you, someone who… loves you? And I hate that I don’t have that person at the moment, and it hurts my heart.

I wish you would talk to me. Properly. I wish you would explain stuff instead of blurting out some half arsed explanation and then hiding. I wish you would speak to me like we always did, instead of saying we’ll still be friends and then talking to me like I’m someone you bearly know and care about even less. I wish you’d stop being this emotionless drone. I know you’re hiding behind the facade to make your own transition easier, but it’s making mine harder and this has all been about YOU and what YOU want – what about me?

I wish I’d never realised what you meant to me. At all. This would’ve been easier to deal with had I not had that epiphany a mere few days before you revealed yours.

I wish we were still best friends. I hope and pray that we’ll get back to that point, without all the extra stuff that makes things uncomfortable. God, I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything as much as I want that. Please, please, please try. If you don’t, part of me isn’t going to make it out of this alive.

I love you. I want you to know that. I think it’s just as friends, I’m not sure it’s anything more, but definitely as friends. How the hell can I tell you that now?



et cetera