Broken Bella Donna











{September 14, 2013}   Millions.

A million things racing around in my crazy head, as per usual, and none of them even remotely linked to the next, so once again I shall have a mish mash of paragraphs and crammed into one entry, with seemingly no connection to each other other than the fact they’re all hurtling around my grey matter. At speed. And occasionally bouncing off of each other.

Spazz inducing occasions have ended for another year. The big one that happened since I last blogged not only went without incident, but went very well indeed. Other than the fact I stopped eating leading up to it and nearly passed out on the day. Whoops. Sadly for my mental health, it isn’t ENTIRELY over… my involvement with these spazz inducing occasions has seemingly put me in the public eye a lot more than I’m comfortable with – and lets be honest, I’m not comfortable with any attention, let alone a lot. I have reasons to believe that this time next week, I will have received an award for my time volunteered, my efforts towards the greater community… That’s right, someone – nay, a group of someones – has decided to give the socially awkward girl who never EVER goes to their functions an award that she’s expected to stand in front of everyone and accept. And it’s meant to be a secret… I’m not meant to know. No one has told me, I’ve nutted it out myself – those who were appointed to try and coax me into going haven’t been terribly subtle about it.

Needless to say I’m not going, and they’re gonna be PISSED. I have no idea if they’ve ever had someone simply not show up before, but they’re going to this time. And I’ll no doubt get endless grief over it… but I can’t bring myself to do it. I can’t bring myself to attend their functions at the best of times, so I’m sure not going to start with this. I just… stress out at the idea. Of standing there awkwardly, not being spoken to, not speaking to anyone, just waiting for some bloke to get drunk enough to decide he’s going to come over and have a crack and cause me to spazz out. Of being watched constantly across the room all night by my ex, who doesn’t even have to be drunk to carry on. Of being expected to sit down to a meal without vomiting all over everyone. Of being observed and judged as a weirdo. Of having a full blown spazz attack for all of the above reasons, or none of the above reasons. Of blushing, and not in an attractive way. Of not having anything to wear anyway. Blah blah blah. No thanks. And in spite of having made the hard and fast decision that I’m not going, I’m still going to feel stressed about it all week because I’m going to worry that people will judge me poorly for not being there. So I simply can’t win, can I? And they will. It will be weird and awkward and everyone will just roll their eyes when they realise I didn’t show up. Because that would just be so Me, that is just Me. The weird awkward girl. Again. I’ve been told it’s part of my charm…

But lets hope with next weekend, goes any reason for me to feel tense. Actually that’s a lie. Another community thing I’m involved in is on mid/late October and that always causes me to spazz out as well, but that’s a one off and hopefully wont be too hard on me this time as I’ve backed out of my responsibilities on the day, so now I simply have to show up, support and take photos. Lets hope by end of October I can relax for a few months and just… enjoy life.

Sad to report I am still lonely, with no friends. Pervy Policeman is well off the radar, we haven’t spoken for… two months or something now. And I can’t say it worries me. I miss desperately having a friend whom I felt so connected with, I miss the vulnerability, I miss the trust. I miss the intimacy of having someone I felt was mine. But do I miss HIM, specifically? Sometimes. But I miss how he made me feel a lot more. I often wonder is that how it works… is that love? Does anyone ever love another person, or just love themselves more when they are with that person, love the way that that person makes them feel? Can we all find that love within ourselves, with no help from others? I have no idea. Perhaps it is just me. I had the same problem with my last two relationships – it was more about how I felt about myself, less to do with them. When they left my life I missed the me that I had got to know more than I missed them. This is why I have this (occasionally) diabolical pseudo relationship with my (now married) ex – it’s all about how he makes me feel about myself. It’s why I’ll never entirely tell him to110% fuck off and stop whoring onto me – I like the way I feel when I’m wanted. And whilst we’ll never cross that line that he’s tried hard to cross, we’ll never cease to flirt either. Because I like it. I like me better when I feel wanted.

Still so many random thoughts in my head, but as per usual I’ve come in here with the intention of talking about them and rattled off on a tangent. So instead of coming in and clearing my head, I’ve given myself more to think about. Balls.

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