They say the key to loving is letting go.
So what’s the key to letting love go?
A day spent just trying to hold it together. I sent a response to Mr. Andrew’s “sorry to be anti social” message telling him what he’s doing wasn’t anti social.
But there were other words I’d use to describe it.
There was no response, but then I didn’t expect one.
The editorial team I work in has also been cut, so on the 21st of this month I’ll be writing freelance full time again.
So I’m in London alone, rejected, scared and won’t have a steady income soon.
Unsurprisingly, today was mainly spent holding back tears and listening to far too much Taylor Swift to be healthy. Bitch really does have a song for every situation. It seems to stupid to come apart at the seams over one silly night of passion, but avoiding falling into that black void requires willpower you didn’t even know you had. And as anyone out there will tell you – no, it doesn’t get easier with practise, because every time the situation is embellished with its own unique hurts.
Combined with the stress of London and looking for new opportunities I don’t know how to handle myself anymore. Part of me wants to run home to Scotland, part of me wants to rise up and grab the new challenges which will come.
But it’s hard to feel like a valuable and confident in your abilities when someone has just made you feel as rejected and awkward as when you were 14.
I don’t really believe in falling into despair or letting emotional slavery rule your life, but sitting on the bed right now I feel like the smallest person in London.
Does he have any idea what he’s done?
Does he even care?
Did he set out to hurt me?
Does it amuse him?
All the questions we want never to ask ourselves when we’re in the delicious early stages of getting to know someone. Delicious, of course, until he does what all men seem to do eventually: ruin the recipe.
I know I should rise up and face the music. But in truth I’m just haunted by memories of what was, what is, and what could have been from all angles. I’m lost and don’t know where to turn.
All there is right now is hope that it will get better.
Sing it, Swift.