Belles of London ; a books review

 "And they had horses, too.

As happily-ever-afters went, it didn't get much better."

 The Muse of Maiden Lane by Mimi Matthews, epilogue

Since the start of the year, I've been reading a book series called "Belles of London" by Mimi Matthews. At first, what drew me in where the horses. On each book cover, there are horses. And secondly, it seemed Bridgerton-ish. What I mean is, it's set in the Victorian era. In London, as you probably gathered from the title. If there's something I love it's a good period romance with horses. I love horses. If you know me, you probably know I'm a horse girl. Not currently, I haven't set foot near a horse in a while (except one time during a vacation and it was neat!) but once a horse girl, always a horse girl. I've always loved stories about horses. Books, comics, tv shows, movies, games... Whatever it was I gobbled it up like a famished child. When I was no much older than four, I often went of pony rides with my dad. We'd go to a farm and they'd lend us the pony, Poupette, for an hour. He would lead me in the forest and I loved that. 

A few years later, I learned how to ride a horse in a small farm near my father's house and went riding every two weeks or so. The horse was called Gamin (kid in french) and was an old gelding once black but then dotted with white and grey hair all over. He was the kindest and most patient horse in the whole world. He loved children and cantering around the paddock. I learned how to stand up on his back before I learned how to sit correctly for a trot. Let me tell you, to this day I still get a side ache when I get to trot on a horse, it's my curse. 

For a little while, I even got my own pony. I named him Spirit, of course, and it was a cute Shetland foal with dark brown markings and a light brown coat. To be honest, my dad bought it to me because he thought it could make me love him more. It didn't work and, after a few distasteful deeds from his part, the cute little Spirit was sold back to its owners. Thankfully, they were friends of my stepmother, the same people who taught me how to ride so I still got to see him often. And it's a fun fact about me. I once got a pony, like some rich spoiled brat. 

All that to say, I love horses. I find them absolutely fascinating and lovely. Sometimes, I wish I could start riding again but I simply don't have the money nor the means. Honestly, it's a bit scary to start a new activity on my own. 

But enough! We're not here to listen to me rant about how much I love horses. Well, a bit but it's mainly about the books not me! 

So, the books. Each volume is about one of the Horsewomen as they're called and a love interest. We get dual points of view, alternating between the girl and her beau. And, obviously, each of the girls (and even the men later on) have a horse of her own. 

In the first instalment, The Siren of Sussex, we meet Evelyn. She came to London for her Season. She loves two things: horses and fashion. But she's also what can be called a bluestocking or a wallflower. She grew up in Sussex along with her six sisters and their aunt since their parents' death. It's her passion for fashion who pushes her to sought out a fabulous habit maker. She then meets Ahmad, a dressmaker who wishes to own his own tailoring shop. His designs are almost too wonderful to be real. They make the women glow and shine and he finds himself a muse in Evelyn. I won't spoil too much of their story so you still have things to look forward to and discover but I'd like to talk about the themes of this first book. 

Evelyn must marry rich for her sisters' sake but she longs for romance. It's a rather usual trope for this kind of romances. How could she fall in love with a tailor when she has to make a fortune? It's plain and simple. As for Ahmad, that's where I really started to get interested in these books. Ahmad Malik is mixed race. Indian from his mother and English from his father, a soldier who went to India when it was colonised. The story talks about the hardships of feeling like you don't belong anywhere because of your upbringing and looks. Because Ahmad left India when he was young but never felt at home in London either. It also talks about the class differences, the inherent racism of this era's society and how it affects him daily, in many ways. I found it really interesting because it seemed like the author really made her researches on these topics and I felt it was done quite well. Maybe I'm wrong, of course. I'm not Indian and even if I'm not fully white either, I'm passing so the racism and the many discrimination Ahmad has to face will never affect me. But I think it wasn't completely botched and it doesn't nullify the purpose at any point so I liked it. As for the romance, there's longing and yearning and both Evelyn and Ahmad are really interesting characters. They both have a life and goals outside of the other and neither of them are defined by their love for the other. It's something I quite loved in all of these books. None of the characters felt empty or lacking in personality. Each of them was different from the others. I love that. 

As for Evelyn's horse, Hephaestus I quite liked him too! Unfortunately, the horses aren't as present as I thought they were but every time they were there, you could feel how much the author loves horses too. She just knows how to talk about them so well, it's lovely.

The second book, The Belle of Belgrave Square, is about one of Evelyn's friends we met in the first book, Julia. She's a rather shy and withdrawn girl. What she loves the most after her horse, Cossack, are books. Especially romance novels. Her parents are two hypochondriacs who keep her under their thumb, treating her as if she's not a daughter but only a nurse they brought into their lives to take care of them. This suffocating life is halted by the occasional horse ride outing or her friends' visits at home. That's how she usually escapes but, when the story starts, she's left all alone in London. All of her friends are gone for a week and since it's the middle of the Season, she's forced to face it on her own. 

At the same time, Jasper is in town to find a wife. He's reputed to be a ruthless war hero with a dozen of bastards kept neatly away in his estate, far away from London. When he's first introduced to Julia, she runs away. She's deeply intimidated by him and he understands it. With his domineering height and the gruelling scar across his face, he looks more like a villain from one of the many books she loves than a war hero or even a gentleman. And Julia longs for romance. She's looking for her fairy tale ending and prince charming. I won't say too much about Jasper's character because it's better if you find out by yourself the full length of his nature. Just be assured that he's absolutely lovely and full of wonders. He's a really tender man and I think him and Julia are truly perfect for each others. 

The themes of this volume are really interesting, too. Just like the first one, both Julia and Jasper are full people each on their own, fighting their own battles. It talks about child abuse in a gripping way. You get hurt as Julia does and you can feel her pain and the conflict building up inside of her throughout the book. As for Jasper, it talks a lot about identity, memories and acceptance in a way. And, obviously, it always comes back to what family is in its deepest sense. 

As a romantic bookish girl myself, I'm also yearning for my own fairy tale ending so this book really resonated with me. I found a lot of me in Julia's character and her growth was truly inspiring. Also, I loved Cossack. He's described as a massive horse and I love to picture her on top of this humongous beast... I just love them so much... Jasper has a horse too! It's name is Quintus and he's even bigger than Cossack. I just love thinking about Julia and Jasper riding atop of two of the biggest horse in all of England, lmao... 

The third volume, The Lily of Ludgate Hill, is telling the story of Anne, Julia's best friend and a Lady. She's the daughter of an earl and still grieving him, even seven years after his death. She lives in Mayfair with her mother, both of them always wearing black mourning clothes. For the earl but also for the death of the late Prince Albert. Anne's mother is really enthusiastic about spiritualism and even has her own spirit companion. Her daughter doesn't really believe in all that but she's always supporting her Mama in all of her endeavours, even if it makes her look like a freak in the eyes of the Society. She's a really temperamental girl who couldn't care less about others' opinions of her. Except when it comes to Felix Hartford, her foe. Most of the book is centred about their really complicated relationship because, believe it or not, they used to quite like each other. But now, they can only bicker at each other. 

It's rather appealing how they constantly toe the line between anger and love, both of them having been hurt by the other in the past. They share the same feelings but neither of them know how to deal with them, it's quite a difficult affair for them. And it doesn't help that Anne's mother seems to be overbearing and Hartfield keeps more than a few secrets from everyone else in the world. But there's also so much yearning and pain... They both want to be together but feel like they can't because they made too many mistakes in the past... Ughhhhhh I just love them so much! I also love how it tackles the subject of class consciousness and the changes of the era. Once again, I don't want to say too much because there's so much mystery about them and I don't want to spoil it for you... 

Anne's horse is an old stallion named Saffron she got when she was but a girl. They grew up together and, even if he can't canter like he used to and tend to be a bit passive, she loves him more than anything in the world. As for Felix, he has not one but two pretty mares named Damselfly and Kestrel! I love their names so much!!!!!! I picture them as two peas in a pod and I love that, even if he doesn't ride, Felix still has his own horses! 

The last book of the series, The Muse of Maiden Lane, might be my favourite out of them all. It might be the recency bias but I just fell so much in love with Stella and Teddy and their love story. It also serves as a beautiful farewell to all the other characters and this universe the author created. 

Stella, since the first book, is described as a great beauty with only one flaw: her grey hair. It wasn't always grey but it happened once she turned sixteen and, now, she's forced to keep it mostly hidden as people tend to look at her with disdain and curiosity. Her brother's a vicar and, if he could, he'd rather take all of her inheritance and marry her off to some old parishioner of his. But Stella wants to live her own life and she refuses to become less than a shadow. 

On the other hand, we have Edward, Teddy, an painter. What he loves the most is art. I kind of see him as autistic because it's often mentioned throughout the book that he's single-minded about art. He's doesn't know how to speak to other people and doesn't care to learn how to be more courteous. All he wants to do all day long is painting and sketching and making art. It should also be mentioned that Teddy is a gentleman in a wheelchair, something very rare in this era. And even if not all of his character is about being disabled, it also brings a very important and interesting conversation about disabilities in this era and how it's perceived. Both from other and from Teddy himself. Just like Ahmad's story, I'm not concerned by Teddy's struggles. I'm not disabled and I don't know anyone with physical disabilities. But I thought the subject was well-written and well-brought. Teddy's character isn't shown as a poor little guy in need of saving or even wishing for a miracle recovery. Instead, he's a really strong-headed and bold artist who's not afraid of pursuing his goals. 

I think the author tried a few times to put both of their situations in perspective. With Stella's hair and situation and Teddy's circumstances, she opened a conversation but it didn't fall in the easy trap of "they're the same, their sufferings are equal and so they're made for each other". On the contrary, both of them discover how to be strong on their own, each at their own pace. Their growth is great and they learn to trust other people even when it's difficult for them. I'm not sure how to articulate it well enough but, to me, they really were made for each other. As far as soulmates go, both of them were brought into the world to live with the other. I fell in love with their love story. They really are my favourite couple out of the four! 

Their relationship starts with art and revolves about their shared passion for it. The Muse in the title is obviously Stella and I just love how she's described through Teddy's eyes and paintings. At some point in the book, he sketches her and it meant the world to me to read how she was portrayed. It was so lovely! 

Stella is the only horsewoman in the series with a mare instead of a stallion. Locket, her grey and almost wild horse is much like her in many ways. And Teddy even has his own horse too! It's a stallion named Samuel he bought to pull his carriage and become more independent. I love that, even if he can't ride, he's still connected to his own horse. 

So, as you probably gathered from this lengthy summary of the books, I loved them. Each of them in their own right. But, obviously, they're not perfect. As I said earlier, you can see in every chapter how much care the author put into researching the era. The fashion, the customs, the setting and the cultural aspects seem really well respected but, maybe a tad too much? I mean it's often referencing to people or events who really existed and, even if it's great to see she seems to be really passionate about everything, it took me out a bit of the story at times. Of course, it's only my own opinion! I know some people might prefer that to books being a bit vague about their environments. 

Also, one thing I didn't mentioned at all are the ages of the characters. If all of the girls are between 22 and 23, it's not the case for their love interests. Ahmad and Jasper are both older than 30. Hartford is 29 and Teddy is 25. And it pissed me off so badly!!!!!!! I hate age gaps relationships. Always. But especially when it's a girl still in her late teens or early twenties and a man in its thirties. I just dislike it very much. Naturally, I understand it has something to do with the era and the fact that women used to get married really young compared to men. To me, Evelyn and Julia are still girls when they meet Ahmad and Jasper. They are unaware of a lot of things. A LOT. It's said many times in the books, too. Evelyn is a country girl and Julia grew up sheltered in a gilded cage. It makes their age gap even more disturbing to me. 

As for Anne, even if there's less than ten years between her and Hartford and they're still both in their twenties, it's not perfect either. They knew each other as children and Felix is still eight years older than her. When she was 15 he was 23. He used to bother her as a little girl, pulling on her hair and treating her as a sister. Their families were close and even Anne's mother says at one point she thought their relationship was like siblings! It's kinda weird, right? It's not just a me problem? Hartford says he's a man and Anne is just a girl! It upset me a great deal while reading... 

The silver lining is Teddy. While Stella is 22, he's 24. And even if at moments some characters treat him as a child while others call Stella a spinster for being unmarried at 22, underlying the double standard, it's still way better than throwing a poor girl in the arms of a more older and mature man. That's also probably why they're my favourite... 

And my last complaint about the series is probably the lack of Evelyn. I mean, she's the main character and our introduction to this world but in the other books she kind of feels like an afterthought. Except in the last volume. Even in her own book, it felt like her friendship with the other girls was a bit forced. Maybe if I read it again, I'd see it differently but upon my first read it just felt kinda weird. They never spent enough time together on the pages for me to believe they became best friends in a flash... 

I don't really have other problems with these books. I might change my mind after reading other point of views, I'm still open to learning more and seeing things under a different light. By no means I think Mimi Matthews' writing is perfect but it's not bad either. I love the way she writes and I'm looking forward to reading some of her other books! I kind of wish The Belles of London was a longer series, honestly. I just love how all the characters and their stories are connected and they all exist in the same circle... My beloved... I'll miss them!

Now, I'm planning on making fanarts since there are very few on the internet! But, for that, I have to learn how to draw horses so I'll work on that! :)

If you read aaaaaall of this, thank you a lot, it means the world to me. If you ever read the books, let me know! I'd love to hear your opinions on them!

perfectionism

 Yesterday, my therapist told me that I was a perfectionist. I never considered myself as such since I tend to give up on stuff before even finishing them and always working as little as possible. But she told me that was because I didn't want to put efforts in things I know won't be perfect, or good enough in my opinion. I'm not sure I'm explaining it well here because I'm tired and my brain isn't working but the way she said it, I totally understood what she meant. I don't put effort in the things I do because it means if it's not perfect, at least I didn't lose too much time or energy dealing with that. 

It's the same reason as for why I'm struggling so much with my creativity. I want to make great art, stuff that pleases my idea of beauty and greatness but I don't feel like I'm ever good enough to do so. And so, I don't draw, I don't write, I don't make anything because it means I won't have to be disappointed. 

I have to try and change this behaviour but it's easier said than done. I wish I could just fuck it, open Word and start writing the chapter 6 of The Brief History but it's been four months and I just can't. I wish I could open Procreate, pick up my pen and doodle stupid shit but I can't. My brain is my worst enemy. It's so tiring to live life this way. 

My therapist also told me that ADHD can cause this kind of behaviour and it's not only because of my perfectionism. I have to put my heart and mind in the same place and not on two different paths, or something like that. I get what she's saying but, once again, I don't think I can do it. Not now. Not yet. One day I'll probably be able to trick my brain into doing the stuff I want but these days I'm only its victim. 

I have a four-days weekend and I have things to do. I have to clean up my room and tidy a lot of things. I have to take a shower. I have to send emails and eat real meals and I'd like to write more than blog posts. I don't think I'll do any of that, thought. I know if I think this way then I'll never get anything done but you have to understand I'm exhausted. Currently, as I'm writing this, I'm thinking about getting back into bed and I'll probably do after I'm done blogging. I'll take a pack of chocolates and cuddle with my cat, watching youtube videos or a tv show. Nothing interesting. It's sunny outside but I don't want to get out. I don't want to talk to anyone. 

Yesterday, my therapist also talked to me about masking. Since she told me she was 99.9% sure that I'm autistic, she's been talking a lot about what it means and how I can deal with it. She explained that I've been masking for so long I'm probably not even aware of it. That's why everything always wears me out so much. I can be fine in any given situation then feel out of the world for days afterwards and that's because I was masking without knowing. I think I recognize myself a lot in that. Acting in certain ways, feeling alright at a certain time and then feeling down without knowing why... That's my life. I'm not yet sure of how I'm supposed to not mask or if I'll be able to stop doing it one day. Maybe I'll find other coping mechanisms that help me more. I wish I could live my life without feeling this exhaustion. I wish I could enjoy the good moments without thinking about the next thing. 

A few years ago, my ex-therapist talked to me about autism and it scared me. I think I wasn't as aware of my mental health and state as I am now. Being depressed was still scary and I was shy about it. I didn't know how to talk about it with my friends or other people. Autism seemed even worse than that. Maybe one day I could get rid of my sadness but if I was on the spectrum, it was a life sentence. When I told my friends back then, they told me it wouldn't change anything. Some of them are also on the spectrum but we never really talked about it. I couldn't think about it. For me, it was something that only happened to others. I did some tests and they came out insufficient. I was just under the red line separating me from autism. Just as I was just under the red line of a high intellectual potential. 

Just as I was just under the red line for everything all my life. 

For years, I thought there was something wrong with me. I always thought it was my fault for not being like others. For being different. For not being able to fit in. That was because I was too shy, too much of a coward. Because I never took any risk ever. And it probably is the case. But I can also say it's because of how I'm trying to be. Someone I'm not. I'm not sure if what I'm saying makes any sense but it's okay. You don't need to get it. I do. What I'm trying to say is there was never something wrong with me, per say. It was just my way of living this life in a way that didn't suit me. I changed a lot throughout the years and I evolved but some things stayed the same within me. 

It's not the autism versus myself. I have to accept this part of me as I accepted the depression and the ADHD. I have to see that because I'm on the spectrum, it doesn't have to mean anything but what I am. There are so many differences between autistic people. Just like everyone else in the world is different, too. I'm not autistic, depressed, mentally ill or anything. In the end of the day, I'm just me and I have to learn how to live with that. I think that's the hardest thing about all of that. I've spent so much time searching for what was wrong with me in order to fix it, I never thought all I had to do was to accept who I am first. 

My therapist asked me if I was mad it took 25 years to diagnose me. I don't think I am. I know some people live all their life without ever knowing. I know people who learn about it when they're children and are treated differently because of it. And people who know and live normal lives. I don't think there's a standard with autism. The way I act can be so different from how my friends on the spectrum can react. Just like with my friends who aren't on the spectrum. 

I only wanted to write a little blog post about perfectionism and I went on a rant about autism but I think I needed to exteriorise these thoughts. I'm not sure I'm making any sense but it's okay. I don't mind. And now, I'm crawling back into bed.

update on my mom

Alright folks buckle up because this is a wild ride. 

If you remember, yesterday I wrote an article talking about my mom acting like a bitch. I thought it would be the end of it, truly. I'm letting my feelings out and time will pass and we'll forget all about it. But in a surprising turn of events, as I was eating, I heard my mom on the phone. That's not the strange thing since the wall are thin and she always talk loudly when she's calling. But she was talking to my sister. 

I'll have you know, my sister and me we have a quite complicated relationship. She acted for the longest time as if she was my second mom and still scolds me like I'm a little cry baby whenever I piss her off. And every single time I have an argument with my mom, I'm sure she'll hear about it and then start telling me how horrible I am because I can never do anything right and I should leave the house because it's not my house and I should leave mom alone because she deserves better than taking care of a big baby like me. And stuff like that. 

So, yesterday, I was curious and sat against my door to hear them better. I regret it. My sister said very hurtful things and my mom didn't really stop her. They were talking about me, obviously. My mom was mad at me and, as usual, my sister was mad too. She said I was egotistical and an overall horrible person. She said it like that, yes. Horrible person. My own sister. She went on and on about how I didn't deserve to celebrate my 25th birthday (coming at the end of the month) because it wasn't my home but my mom's and I deserved to be grounded until I decided to make more efforts. It really hurt me to hear that coming from my own sister. Listening her say how she despises me. And my mom nodding, too. I sat there, on the floor, against my door until the call was ended. Then I sent a text in our group chat, telling them I heard everything. My mom only answered "I talked loudly on purpose so you'd hear". What a cruel thing to say. By text, my sister even went as far as telling me "empathy isn't natural for you". I can't believe her! 

My sister told me to come out and talk with my mom. But how was I supposed to go out there and face the person who was saying only a few minutes prior how hard it was to live with me? I stayed in my room. The anxiety was killing me and I cried a lot and a lot and it helped talking a bit about it with my friends, Lola and Camille, but I still felt so sad and so, so hurt! Thankfully, I had a therapist appointment today. All I had to do was to sleep and it'd come sooner. My night was absolute shit. Around three, Henriette, my cat, started howling outside my door, waking me up from yet another nightmare. I made her come inside and she immediately laid on top of me. I think she felt how anxious I was. I love her so fucking much... 

Anyway, this morning I woke up with a new mindset. My plan was to go to my therapist appointment and then spend the day by the lake, reading books. Far from my family and their disdain. Unfortunately, I woke up late and only realized I was late at the time where my train was leaving. I was still at home. I learned later that it wouldn't have made any difference if I'd woken up earlier because all the trains have been cancelled today because of some accident. So I called my therapist and we spoke on the phone but it wasn't perfect. I wanted to talk to her about my current situation but couldn't do it and left this call with my heart even heavier than it was before. I was so sad and so tired. I laid on the floor of my room and tried breathing to make the anxiety leave my body. I've been having anxiety rushes and attacks since I was twelve-ish. But I never said anything to anyone so my only way to get rid of them was to breath and wait. That's how my mom found me. Laying on the floor, breathing and not capable of moving up because I was trembling so much. 

I think that's when something clicked in her. She gave me an anxiety medication and asked my what I was doing and I couldn't say anything without crying. So I told her everything I ever felt. Everything I never said because I was afraid and because I'm not used of talking about anything with her. I cried and talked like that for two hours. It was a lot. But I think she finally gets it. She finally understand that I'm severely depressed and I always try so hard to do anything but never succeed. I feel seen for once. I just hope it'll be better from there. We'll be able to fix whatever was broken between us. 

As for my sister... I don't know. She really broke my heart and I don't feel like I can trust her anymore. She was absolutely awful yesterday but, when I saw her today, acted as if nothing had never happened. I don't understand her. I'm so hurt and mad right now! She better behave because it's my last straw. She pulls something like that once again and I'll simply stop talking to her. For ever. 

mom

My mom is acting like a bitch. 

She refuses to acknowledge that I'm depressed and I'm starting to get really tired of how she acts with me. I've been depressed since 2018 ish but never told her because we don't talk in my family. Well, my sister and mom talk together but I don't. I never did and I don't know how to start now. So I never said anything and just dealt with it on my own. I wasn't doing a great job, though, and so earlier this year I was a bit forced by my sister to come out and tell them I was depressed. I thought things were going to change. Now, my mom would understand that I'm not just lazy and unpleasant on purpose. I'm genuinely trying but I'm not the best at dealing with feelings and stuff. My mom knows a lot about depression since she's been depressed before. I really thought she would see my pain and acknowledge it and be kinder towards me. 

But, no. It's still the same thing with her. She's all nice and kind and fun but, as soon as I don't do exactly the thing she wants me to do at the moment she demands it then I'm literally the worst person ever. She doesn't say it, no. But she makes me feel it. She's very good at making me the villain, acting like a victim every time I don't do what she wants me to do. And I know I've never been a really good kid. I was terrible when I was younger, always crying and being upset about stupid shit. But I shouldn't have been a good kid to feel like I deserve to be loved. The worst part is, I know she loves me. And I love her. But I don't think she likes me. And she always annoys me and I get really mad at her all the time for no reason. So, sometimes, she acts like a bitch and I'm a bitch too and we're upset at each other. Then some time pass, a few hours go by, me in my room and her in the living room and then I go out and everything is forgotten. 

Yet, she's still acting like a bitch. 

Yesterday, we had guests over to play games. They're my mom's friend and her daughter, who's a bit younger than me. We started a little boardgames tradition where we meet and play game when we all have free time so it's a nice thing. I'm not the biggest fan of them but I've known them literally all my life so I don't mind spending time with them. But this week has been kind of hard for me with the travel, the new meds, the show and stuff. My anxiety has been through the roof and the past two days I couldn't literally get out of my bed. Suffice to say this week sucked. I had forgotten that the guests were coming over and my mind was literally off. I couldn't focus on ANYTHING. My mom asked me to throw the garbage out, I said I'd do it later and she said "alright we'll go in thirty minutes" and I was like, okay, that's good. I found it weird that she said "we" but didn't think much of it. There were two garbage bag so I thought we'd go together and she'd come fetch me so we'd go together. She left and I forgot about it because my brain is literally dead. 

She didn't come back, though, and like five minutes before the guests arrived she barged into my room asking why I didn't throw the trashes out. I said I was waiting for her to come pick me up and she said I could have gone by myself. It's true. I'm nearly 25, it's old enough to throw the garbage by myself and remember to do it on my own but I wasn't thinking about that and genuinely thought we'd go together. I said so and she started scolding me because she'd allegedly NEVER said we'd go together and blah-blah-blah. This put me in a bad mood. And I was really low. All I wanted was to get back in bed and cry, honestly. But when the guests arrived I put on a smile and went into the living room to sit with them. I didn't throw the garbage out because I didn't really see a point in doing it now, a few minutes before they came in. It could wait the next day. 

I sat and chat with them, sitting on a chair and looking at my phone. I got myself a hand spinner last week to stop chewing at my nails, taking off my nail polish and also to help me concentrate on movies and tv shows. And it honestly helps! So picture me on a chair, in my day pajamas, looking at my phone and spinning my little handspinner in my hand, minding my business. I wasn't ignoring them, I wasn't being actively rude or impolite. I answered when they talked to me and literally talked back. Like a normal person. But I wasn't feeling good and so I needed to get my brain going with stuff. As I usually do. And I don't know why but suddenly my mom called me out. She said I was being rude and annoying and I could drop my phone or just go in my room if I wasn't interested in staying there. But I was! I said I wanted to stay because I was happy the guests were there and that we'd play games later. I was sincerely thrilled because I love board games. But my mom started berating me and humiliating me. I was pissed so I went into my room. I didn't want to be perceive. I didn't want to exist anymore. 

So I went in my room, layed on top of my bed and stayed there all afternoon. 

I only went out once to pee but I stayed there. Didn't eat. Didn't shower. Didn't said good night to anyone. Because I felt like I couldn't come out. I felt sad and stupid. My mom came into my room only once and it was to scold me more. It made me so mad and literally so sad! I don't understand why she acts like that. Like she doesn't know how it feels to be so depressed you can't get out of bed. She still believes I'm lazy and not doing any efforts when I'm literally trying so hard to not just lay in bed until I die. I get up every fucking day and it takes me so much energy just to stay awake. I'm exhausted just because I'm existing and she comes in my room and tell me I'm annoying and rude and lazy. She's my mom! Why doesn't she see the pain in my eyes? Why doesn't she understand the weight in my heart? If she doesn't get me, then who will? I came from here but it's like we don't know each other. 

This morning, I woke up at eight. My cat came into my room and we cuddled a bit then I got up. I peed, brushed my teeth and then took the garbage out. One of the bags was really heavy and one of my neighbours offered to help me. It felt really awkward especially since I don't really know any of my neighbours but she was nice and she had a really pretty dog. So, I took the garbage out. Then I ate toasts and drink orange juice and went back into my room. You might know that my mom and me don't have the same sleep schedule, at all. She got up around 5pm. Usually, before she's awake, I leave my door open so the cats can come and go as they want. It's either that or Gaspard-Moutarde will open it by force. So, usually, she comes in when she wakes up and say hello and we chat a bit before she takes the criminal (Gaspard) and closes my door behind them. 

But she didn't do that, today. She went by without a second look. She went to the living room and I closed my door myself. I stayed a bit in my room and then I had to pee so I got out and, on the way, said "Hello" to her, thinking she'd answer back and everything would be forgotten. 

That's where she decided to act like a bitch. Because I said hello and she looked at me before looking back at her phone. Without saying anything. As if she's twelve. As if I'm the one being mean. 

Once again, I don't understand why she acts like that. Why she refuses to understand I'm sick and tired. When I told her my therapist gave me medication, she literally asked if this was necessary. Like they would give it out for free, like that. She refuses to acknowledge that I'm depressed and I can't go on like that. I don't know what to do. I can't talk to her because I simply don't know how to do that. I'm not a talker. Despite having my own blog where I talk and talk and talk about my life and my problems. That's why I have a blog in the first place. Because I can't talk about them out loud. 

When I told her I was depressed, I really thought something would change. I thought she'd start seeing me and loving me in the way I need to be loved. Gently, kindly. With care. But she always pushes me more and more and further. She doesn't seem to understand that I'm literally breaking down. I can't go further anymore or I'll disappear into the void. But she keeps on pushing and being rough and being harsh and when I try to tell her I need more time, I need help, she acts like I'm being ridiculous. My sister and her, they always act like I'm being a cry baby and needy when I tell them I need help for this or that. When I tell them no about something, they make me feel like the worst person in the world. And maybe, sometimes I am. Sometimes I act needy and like a big baby. But I know most of the times it's not the case. I'm not like them and I wish they could understand it. Instead of always pushing me. 

I'm so tired of my mom always acting like a victim. Always making me doubt myself and making me feel like I'm acting like my dad. I'm so scared of being like him. I'm always feeling guilty towards my mom but I'm not sure it's the truth. I'm so tired of not knowing if what I feel is real or something my stupid brain is making me feel. I just wish I could know my mom loves me and never doubt it. 

I think I'll stay in my room once again tonight and don't eat and act as if I'm not around. I don't want to face her. I don't want to see her act like I'm disappointing and exhausting. I'm sad enough as it is. 

friday night, alone again (naturally)

I'm tired of feeling like I'm always screaming at an empty void. With no one to scream back, not even an echo. I'm tired of this loneliness. It's going to kill me. It's crushing my heart and I can't take it anymore. But I can't blame anyone for this but myself. 

It's not my friends' fault if I'm alone like this. They can't just drop everything and teleport at my side every time I feel down. If that was the case, they'd probably live at my place. They're already doing a lot for me. I can't ask for more. But I also feel so alone in the world. 

I'm always by myself. And when I'm not, I'm around people I don't feel comfortable being around. I can't say all I think and how I feel to my mom or my sister. I can't be myself in front of acquaintances and I don't want these people to become my friends. Because I just don't like them like that. 

I'm sad because I don't feel like I can share all of my thoughts with my friends over texts. I don't want to be annoying and clingy. I hate twitter, too, because it just makes it worse. Of course all of my stupid, dumb tweets won't get attention or likes. Nobody cares. But it only makes me feel more alone. I don't even like or read all of my friends' tweets. Well, I do but it's because I'm chronically online and chronically lonely. I have nothing better to do than read tweets. Everyone else has better things to do. 

All of my friends have other friends, other plans, other life. I'm not the center of the universe and I know it. But since I'm a stupid bitch I can't help but feel a bit jealous and a lot of FOMO when I see them doing stuff without me. I can't help but wonder what about me? And most times I was invited, I could just not come because of money or appointments but I still feel really sad about it. I, too, want to spend time with them. And I know I still see them other times but it still feels like I'm missing something. 

I think it's really because I'm jealous and egoistic and I'd like the whole world to revolves around me. 

Because they're far away from me but they still have other friends. They still have other people they can spend time with. But I don't. I don't have anyone here but my mother and sisters and even them have other things to do. More important stuff than me. 

And I can't shake the feeling that my presence don't matter anyway. Things are the same either I'm here or not. My friends almost never reach out to do things. And I don't either because I'm always terrified of being annoying or clingy. I tried to organise a few things like playing online, calling, etc.  Stuff we can do long-distance but it's always the same thing. We do it once, maybe twice, and then it lays forgotten. And some of them come to me and it's always nice but with others, I always have to go to them. We have a good time but when I come home, I can't help but feel like it didn't matter that I was there. It would've been the same for them if I stayed at home. I won't say that I'm the only one making efforts and trying harder to connect because it's simply not the truth. But sometimes I feel like most things come from me. 

And the worst thing is I know I'm wrong. I know they don't reach out because they're busy with work and studies and I'm literally so far we can't simply organise a quick meet on the evening or the weekend. It's too expensive for everyone to do that only for a few hours. It's literally not worth it. But, because of that, it makes me feel like I'm the one who's not worth it. 

I just wish I could have close friendships as much in the distance as in the heart. I love my friends and I could literally kill for them. I only want their happiness and I'm so glad when they're doing fine and I'm so angry at the world whenever something happens to them. And I know the same goes for them. But I'd like to have one friendship like the ones in the movies. A friend I could call at anytime of the day without worry. Someone I could have a really special bond with. Like a soulmate. Because I'm so tired of feeling so alone in the world. I know we're born alone and we'll die alone but I don't want to live alone, too. 

Everyone always talk about love. Always. And I'm so jealous because I never knew love. Not in the way the stories and songs talk about it. If I have worries, I can't talk to my friends about them because I never want to bother them. If my mom died tonight, I don't know how I could ever tell them. Our only way of communication is tweeting. That's the only way I know for sharing informations. Either that or yapping in my instagram stories. But if I don't tweet and if I don't yap, then they know nothing about me or my life. I'd just like to have one special friend with whom I could feel like I'm not a burden. And, again, it's not my friends' fault for me feeling this way. I just have too much baggage and I'm the problem, here. I can wish as much as I want, this will never happen. I will never magically meet a soulmate. It just doesn't happen to people like me. 

I'll live alone and I'll die alone. I just have to accept it. And it's harder than I thought. 

I know the way I'm feeling is bad and stupid and I was with one of my friends less than a month ago and two others are coming to my place in a week but I can't help it! I feel so alone all the time! That's why I started this stupid blog in the first place. To feel like my words mattered enough to be kept somewhere, out of my head. But I don't really think it's the case. Almost no one reads anything I write. No one cares. And they shouldn't. 

I don't know what I'm saying, really. It's friday night and I'm feeling really, really down and alone and it's always the same thing. I've been feeling alone for more than a decade now. It will probably never change. I'll spend the rest of my life away from everyone I love because I can never do anything right. Because the last relationship I had where it felt like someone was always there for me, with whom I talked every day about many things, who always read my stories and commented my drawings, well it ended badly. Because I was a bad friend to them. So maybe I deserve this loneliness. I asked for it when I hurt others with my jealous thoughts and egotistical acts. 

Anyway. It's late and I'm hungry so I'm going to eat and maybe I'll stop crying and I'll be fine after.

hobbies

I don't know why but I often feel as if my hobbies aren't really worth mentioning. As if I'm only wasting time instead of doing things that interest me, personally. I mean, writing stupid shit on a blog or looking at lyrics while listening to songs aren't really things I can put down on my curriculum. Same goes for searching up the cast of shows or movies I might watch and always say "NO WAY" really loudly whenever I recognize someone or doing crosswords. But I do these things every day. I do them more than reading books, watching movies or making puzzles. But they're not professional. They feel like I'm wasting time.

I think I should try new hobbies. Things for which I should get out of my bedroom. Leaving my bubble. I should start biking again, making little trips around my village. Or walking on our treadmill. But there's something keeping me from doing such simple things like that and I don't know what it is, yet. I think it might be my mom. I don't want her to perceive my efforts. I don't want to get out and feel her gaze on me. I don't want her to think I'm doing better when I'm not or simply have some sort of fate in me. Because I know I won't go on too many bike rides or walk a lot and I'll feel like I'm disappointing her. I don't know why I'm always scared of being alive around her. She never really did anything to make me think or act this way. My brain's just wired all wrong. 

I want to go on walks around my neighbourhood. There's literally a little river in front of my window and a walkable path that takes us to a nice tiny beach. But going out means I have to get dressed. My phone's battery has to be full. I have to carry a water bottle and maybe a snack. If I want to take my e-reader then I have to take a backpack. Which means it's becoming more than a little walk. I have to go out and see people. And they see me. So my hair can't be messy and my face has to be really clean. But if I take a shower before the walk, I'll have to take one after too. And I don't want to take two showers a day. There's too many things to think about and I know all of them are in my head. I'll see no one and even if I do, they won't look at my hair. I don't need to take my e-reader if I'm only going on a walk. My phone doesn't need to be full, it's alright. I have little water bottles which fits in my waist bag. There are many other reasons of why I should go out. But my mind don't listen to them. 

Even when I'm really motivated, I'm frozen by the fear. A few months ago, I was really motivated about going to the swimming pool on my own. I spent all day thinking about it, even tried on my swimsuits, packed a bag, looked up the itinerary. I was ready to go. I was going to go the day after as I had planned it. I talked about it to my friends, I was really, really feeling good about it. But the next day, when I woke up, I felt paralyzed. I couldn't get up from my bed. Couldn't move my body. I felt floored by my anxiety. I felt so stupid for being so helpless. 

The thing is, I'm terrorized of going anywhere alone but swimming pools are even worse. Firstly, because I never went alone to one. Secondly, because I can't see shit without my glasses. Literally my eyesight is so bad I feel lost whenever I go swimming with someone, I have to stay by their side all the way. And thirdly, because I hate my body and if I go alone, without seeing anything, I won't be able to know if anyone watches me. I can't bear feeling this lonely and vulnerable. I hate my body, I hate being perceived and I think a swimming pool might be the worst place in the world when you feel this way. So I never went to the swimming pool. 

And I don't think I'll go soon, even with someone. I've gained weight lately and I feel like shit. I know my body is literally the most normal ever but I can't help but feel so ugly. Not only my body but my face, too. Four years ago, I weighted fifteen less kilos and I was feeling good. I could wear everything I wanted and felt pretty. But it wasn't a normal weight. I was literally so depressed I lost all this weight. And ever since, I've been gaining it back. Which means I can't wear most of my pants, some parts of my body changed and I don't like them. My face looks weird when I see myself in a mirror. I'm sure no one else would really see the difference but it's all I see. The way my jaw looks rounder on one side and not the other, my ankles aren't the same as before either. My ass is kind of the worst since most of my weight goes right there and in my thighs. I can't wear any pants or skirts without feeling self conscious. Which isn't ideal since I can't just erase a part of my body. It's been really hard lately. 

I really want to change. But once again, there's so many boundaries in my mind. Stupid shit I should be able to overcome but they've been here for so long, I don't know how to get rid of them. People say it's an everyday work. Repeating the same things on loop because our brains are muscles and they're dumb and you can trick them. But I don't have the energy to repeatedly trick my stupid brain into thinking I can go outside or wear shorts. I'm so tired! It always all comes down to that; I'm fucking exhausted. 

I'm starting therapy again on monday. I hope it'll really do something for me because I've been losing all hope. I need someone that will help me. For real. I really hope my new therapist will help me find how to be the version of myself I want to be. It's either that or the long agony until something kills me. 

Internship 5

Tomorrow's my last day. Finally. 

I got my internship assessment today with my manager, the director and my "unemployment counselor" (I don't know how to call him but he's the one who got me the internship in the first place). It was a bit awkward but it went well. They said that I worked hard and really good, event better than they thought I would. My manager said if I had stayed longer, he would have given me more responsibilities because he felt like he could really count on me. I hate having responsibilities but I love getting praised. Especially after feeling like I wasn't doing anything good enough. It felt really good to hear what they thought about me. 

They said I could maybe come back and work in another part of the museum in August. That'd be great, I think. I'd work a smaller percentage and I'd be with other people and I'd see new things. I'm sincerely psyched about it. But I need at least one or two weeks of rest. I need to put down my mind and breathe and stay in my room with myself and this blog for more than a weekend. I need it. 

I'm so exhausted. I couldn't tell them that, today. I didn't dare. I don't think they would have taken it badly but how am I supposed to tell these people I barely know that I'm severely depressed and seeing people every day makes me want to kill myself? Getting up at six am and staying on the same uncomfortable chair, always feeling drained on the afternoons and drinking tea when I don't even really like it just to stay awake. Avoiding eye contacts with others, eating alone, not taking breaks because I'm afraid of running into people in the breakroom and having to do small talk or else I'll feel rude and awkward. I'm not sure how to act like I'm human. But I can't tell them that because they'll think I'm weird or, at the very least, perceive me in a way I don't want to be perceive. 

I want everyone to know that I'm always sad and tired and I can't talk and can't think but I don't want anyone to think I'm a burden. Someone they need to take care of. I want to be cared for. I don't want people to feel pressured to think more of me in certain ways only because of my mental health. So I say nothing. 

But, at last, tomorrow is my last day. I'm glad. It was a good experience but, as I said many times, it exhausted me. I'll take a few days to recover and do the things I want to do. I'll write a lot, watch tv shows (IWTV, HOTD, The Bear!!!) and read. I won't take a shower every two days but maybe twice a week because I won't need my hair to be always pretty and perfect. I'll cuddle with my cats and I'll eat real breakfast and not only something on the way. I'll wear comfortable clothes without feeling like my body is horrendous and nothing fits and I hate myself everytime I see my reflection. I'll wake up at seven or even eight if I feel like it. I'll watch movies at night. I'll live for myself instead of living just for the sake of it. Just because I have to get up the next day. Because I have to be prim and proper and look good and feel good and be good just for others. I'll stay in my room with my cats and my sadness and I'll be glad for it. 

But today I still have to go to bed before nine pm so I'll get going. I still have to braid my hair and wash my teeth and get in bed to read a bit before eventually falling asleep with my e-reader in hands because I always fall asleep when I try to read at night. 

17.06.24

It's only Monday but this week is already way too long. I woke up at 6.30 this morning, due to my new and oh-so-great sleep schedule. Don't get me wrong! I'm really happy to finally have an easier time falling asleep and waking up and sleeping overall, after years of fucked up sleep routines and insomnia. But when it's one of the few days where I don't need to wake up this early, it's a bit frustrating. Anyway, I got up after reading a few webtoons (It's Just Business, Daily JoJo and I'm the Queen in This Life) and took a well-needed shower. Afterwards, I ate my breakfast while watching the newest episode of House of the Dragon! It was so, so, so great to get all these characters back after two years! I especially loved the scene between Jacaerys and Rhaenyra. It was so touching watching him break out of his perfect heir role to grieve with his mother. I love their relationship. And, as always, I loved Alicent. She's my most beloved... I'm so mad because of what she's got going on with Criston, oh my god. I really hate this man. I hope he suffers a lot this season! I also saw many people on twitter, being pissed about stuff that's been changed from the book but since I haven't read it and don't plan on doing so, it's not really my problem. 

At 9.30, I had a video appointment for one of the classes I attend. Something related to my unemployment. It was alright. I usually go to the building but today was exclusively online. I enjoyed being able to stay in the comfort of my room. And, since it was online, it was way shorter than it usually is. And it also meant I didn't have to talk with one girl from my class whom I despise. Well, maybe despise is a bigger word than the situation really is. I just can't stand her. It's not that she's mean or vile, just really, really annoying. At the start, I tolerated her. She was nice, maybe a bit intrusive. Like, she forced me to give her one of my social media account and started following me on the spot. She sent me lots of dms about things I didn't really care about but I didn't know how to say that so I just pretended it didn't bother me. But it did. She quickly became insufferable and it made me think of an ex-friendship, which ended badly. I don't want to have any business with her but, unfortunately, I do. Being annoying is far from being her only flaw, though. If it was only that, I could bear it. But she's a proud zionist, thinks the word Queer is insulting but still uses SLURS she has no business using and firmly believe that the Little Mermaid being Black is some sort of a crime of the Woke mob. Just for the record, she's not white. She's just too much of bad takes and stupid ideas for me to endure much longer. And the worst is, she thinks she's my best friend or something. Always alluding to our friendship and stuff when I've only known her for two months at most. And not two months in full. More like once a week, here and there. So, yeah, I was glad that today was online so I didn't have to listen to her spouting nonsense in my face at every break. 

After that class, I had a doctor appointment so I went there. I was a bit stressed because I had a really great relationship with my old doctor but, due to moving away, I had to change. The new one isn't bad but she's really intimidating and whenever she talks, I barely understand what she's speaking about. But today went really well. She told me stuff I could understand and I wasn't afraid of asking her questions. So it's great. She told me I had some sort of disease but it wasn't there yet. Like, I'll have this thing in the future but it isn't active for the moment. I took drugs for this for a year before she told me it wasn't necessary. I'm a bit lost, there. But I'll listen to the professionals. If she told me the drugs aren't needed, I'll trust her. 

I got out of this appointment feeling good and relieved and thought I deserved a little treat for being able to get this far in the day without feeling like some stupid girl who can't do anything right. Of course, the good-luck-strike had to end one way or another. I only took a snack, a drink and some shampoo I needed but my card was declined. Three times. All the while there were lots of people around and the self-checkout thingy was screaming from the top of its digital lungs "CARD DECLINED! PLEASE TRY AGAIN!", it was mortifying. I hate when it happens as a whole but it's even worse when I know that I have to go to my internship tomorrow and I don't know how I'll eat at lunch, since I apparently have absolutely no money left in my bank account. That's why I said this week is already way too long for my liking. I have no food at home that I can take out, too. Like there's not a single option I can think of that could save me in this situation. My mom doesn't have any money left either. I'm fucked. 

I'm so tired of always living with a sword hanging over my head, not knowing when it'll fall on my neck. Living on a deadline, on borrowed time and energy. I'm so, so exhausted right now. Not only physically but mentally as well. Doesn't matter if I sleep eight hours a night. It won't help me feel like I'm better at life. I'm just winging it but I suck at it. I'm sad and tired all the time. All. The. Time. It's exhausting being this exhausted. Every move I make hurts. Every thought I have is more depressing than the ones before. I try to be hopeful, I try to look forward but all I can see are walls and challenges out of my range. Why is it so hard to be alive? Why must I always cling to every little glimpse of hope I can? Everyone expects of me to be a normal person, somehow. And I feel like I'm succeeding really well at pretending. I push through again and again and again. But I've been pushing for decades now. How much longer am I supposed to keep going on? A few months? Years? Until I'm at an age where it's acceptable to die? Living all my life in the hope that I'll die in my sleep any day now?

I feel so empty. I've been feeling so empty for years. If you read my old diaries, you'll find me saying that I have no purpose in life. No goal. That all I want is to know love and to be closer to my friends. To succeed in life. It was true ten years ago. It's still true today. When do you understand the meaning of your life? Why was I put on earth? To suffer? To cry all my tears and say all my words and use all my pain in vain? I feel so selfish feeling this exhausted when I know other people have it way harder. And I'm not even talking about people suffering atrocities in other countries. Because, obviously, my problems are really frivolous besides theirs. But some depressed people who can't even get up from their beds for days. Who can't shower or talk to others. I feel this way but I'm strong enough to push through. Force myself to do all these things I don't want to do. Because I don't want others to feel burdened by me. And I'm not saying that people more depressed than me aren't strong. It isn't a competition or anything. I just feel like an impostor some days. When I'd rather stay in bed all day but still manage to get up and get dressed and get out. When all I want is to disappear but I still answer my friends' texts and talk with my mom and brush my teeth. I've got it easier than most. I have a roof above my head, hot water and my own space. I can eat two meals a day and take showers whenever I want. I'm so lucky. I know I'm so lucky. That's why I feel even worse thinking about the way I'm exhausted. I'm ruining my life, yearning for a happiness that might never come. I don't know if I'm supposed to give up now or keep on trying to be happy. Should I just accept that my life will never be the one I dreamt about when I was four? Or should I still keep on fighting for little-me's dreams? I don't know anything anymore. I'm so, so tired. I'm tired of being this tired. Tired of feeling blue. 

Love

I just finished watching a nice movie called Bonus Track. It's a cute love story between two teenage boys, united by music and finding their own way through life. A bit corny, as those kind of movies tend to be, but really sweet and lovely. The main character is even played by Kate Winslet's son! And, no, I didn't know she had a son either. 

The movie was great but it made me a bit sad. Love stories often do that to me. I love love. I love the idea of falling in love with someone. I love reading about love. Watching movies and shows and listening to songs about love. I tend to look for love in every part of the world. I'll find it in stories where it's not the main focus or lyrics that weren't meant to be about it. I just love love so much. I think it's because I lack a bit of it. It's not that I'm not loved, because I am. I'm lucky to have loving friends and even family. But I never really known romantic love. Not in the main way, at least. 

I've always had crushes. Ever since I was a very little girl. I'd find some boy in my class and I'd daydream about them constantly. It was my way to make school more enjoyable. It didn't matter if my teachers were mean or my grades bad. Not if I had a chance to catch a glimpse of my crush in the hallways or classroom. I was shy and awkward and full of anxiety so I never acted on anything. I never said anything to any of them. I just became friends with them, tried to stay close and stuff like that. I was eleven, thirteen, sixteen and I thought I was dumb and ugly and annoying and that none of them would ever like me back. Boys didn't have crushes on me. I was the weird, silent kid in the back of the room. I had okay grades, I wasn't emo or too loud. I was friends with the popular kids but not officially. I went to my day-to-day life without really knowing my place in the school hierarchy. So I never tried anything. Being friends was enough for little old me. 

I've seen my crushes get crushes and these people succeeding at what I was too afraid to even try. They went out, held hands and walked together after school. They'd exchange notes in the classroom and smile at each other in the hallways. And I was always twenty steps behind. Only two boys ever got crushes on me; the first one ate the grass in the school yard and the second one liked every single girl in our school. They were weird and I thought it was all I ever deserved. Weird boys for the weird girl. 

Once, I shot my shot. I was older, eighteen I think or maybe nineteen and felt brave enough to try. I had a huge crush on one of my coworkers. He was a bit older and the kindest soul I've ever met. He always laughed at my jokes, would come to my desk personally every morning to greet me or just smiled everytime we locked eyes. Every day was like my own personal romcom whenever he was there. He'd come stand near to me in group settings and we'd have private jokes. I stayed overtime so many times just to have the chance to talk to him. And I believed I had a chance. So I tried. No need to say it didn't went as planned. We stayed close afterwards but I always felt a bit awkward about it. He stayed kind and gentle and never said anything. He even offered to lend me money, once, when I talked to my troubles with him. He was kind of my white knight. I always cringe a bit thinking about it, nowadays. My own love life makes me cringe because it's barely something. Only false hopes and crushed dreams. 

Love makes me sad. I yearn for it. For someone to really see me and fall in love with me and for me to love them back. To share something special with someone. A bond. And I'm saying that but I know that, if I had an occasion to know it, I'd run far away. I'm terrified of it. I don't know how to act, what to say or who to be. I'm scared. I often feel like I'm too old for a first love, now. I missed my chance. And I've been thinking this way since I was sixteen. I'll never have an elementary school boyfriend or a high school sweetheart. I know nothing. I never kissed anyone. Never even held hands! I'm scared of intimacy and sitting too close to anyone who's not my friend. I haven't got a crush on anyone in almost five years because I haven't met anyone new in almost five years. I don't even fall in love with strangers in the bus or the train anymore. What if my love is broken? What if I never find the perfect person I've been looking for all this time? I just want love. But even love is just too much. The idea of love is comforting but only when it's safe, inside my head. 

I'm turning twenty five this year. It's twenty five years without love. 

What am I supposed to do at this point? Should I just give up? Become a spinster? I'll be the aunt with cats who never found love. The girl no one ever loved back. Or if it was the case, I just didn't get the signs. Maybe people loved me but maybe I was just too much inside my own head to realize it. Or maybe it wasn't just that. Maybe things were too confusing and I lost myself in the process. It seems so easy for most people, thought. Most my friends know love and they are great at it. They're not afraid of loving. Or maybe they are, but their fear doesn't stop them from loving. I wish I was brave like them. 

I'd like to meet love. I'd like to go out, bump shoulders with a stranger in the street and fall in love. Go to the cinema and sit next to my soulmate. But I don't go outside. And even when I'm part of the world, I stay inside of myself. Where I'm safe and alone and sad. But still safe. I'd love to be brave and adventurous. I'd love to be someone else. Someone who doesn't have troubles with love. Someone for whom love comes easy. Someone who's not me. 

But, alas, I am me. And I can't change that. So I'll continue to watch sappy movies and feel a bit hollow at the end of it. I'll carry my loneliness with me, treating her as a friend and companion. I'll love my friends and my cats and my family. And maybe, one day, I'll meet someone who loves me and whom I can love back. And I hope it'll be easy. And I hope it won't be too long before it happens. I'm scared to die without any kiss on my lips. Without any hand printed inside the skin of my palm. Without my heart beating. 

In the song "Dust and Ashes" from the musical Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812, the character of Pierre sings "They say we are asleep until we fall in love / We are children of dust and ashes / But when we fall in love we wake up / And we are a god and angels weep / But if I die here tonight / I die in my sleep" and "They say we are asleep until we fall in love / And I'm so ready / To wake up now / I wanna wake up / Don't let me die while I'm like this" and I feel like it sums up very well of I feel about this. 

ten favourite movies

Today, I'd like to share ten of my favourite movies with you. This isn't an exhaustive list and it's not in order. Only the ten first movies I thought about when I made this list!

1. Aftersun (2021) dir. Charlotte Wells

"Happy birthday, dad."

Sophie reflects on the shared joy and private melancholy of a holiday she took with her father twenty years earlier. Memories real and imagined fill the gaps between miniDV footage as she tries to reconcile the father she knew with the man she didn't.

A movie about fathers and the men they are. This movie broke my heart, made me cry and want to die. It was a real masterpiece. I wrote kind of a lengthy review/rant about it on my blog, you can find it somewhere if you want to know my thoughts on this movie. But TL;DR I really, really love this movie. I see a lot of myself in both Sophie and Calum and it's a strange feeling. I'm my father's daughter but I'm also more than that. 

2. Kubo and the two strings (2016) dir. Travis Knight

"You are my quest."

Kubo mesmerizes the people in his village with his magical gift for spinning wild tales with origami. When he accidentally summons an evil spirit seeking vengeance, Kubo is forced to go on a quest to solve the mystery of his fallen samurai father and his mystical weaponry, as well as discover his own magical powers.

I rewatch this movie almost every year and it always warm my heart. There's something so comforting within this story and its characters. And it's so, so, so beautiful? It might my favourite Laika movie! I love movies about families, either found or biological ones. These kinds of dynamics always work on me. I'm a very sentimental kind of person and these stories tend to be really sentimental. At least, it's the case with this one. Kubo is an almost perfect protagonist and you want to root for him more than anything else. He's just a little guy! With a really great character design. I love eyepatches! They're so cool! He's so cool! 

3. The Banshees of Inisherin (2022) dir. Martin McDonagh

"Well, there goes that dream."

Two lifelong friends find themselves at an impasse when one abruptly end their relationship, with alarming consequences for both of them.

The first time I've watched this movie, I fell asleep in the middle. Not because it was boring but I was truly exhausted. When I finished it, I couldn't understand how the fuck I managed to fell asleep. It's such a great movie? It might seems like not much at first but the story and the characters are so heart wrenching. Everything about this movie feels hopeless but in a good way? I'm not sure if it makes sense but it's how I feel about it. I think every character in this movie has its flaws (except for Siobhan she never did anything wrong) and that's why it makes it such a good story. Both Padraic and Colm are a bit extreme in their own ways and they're both right to feel how they feel. It made me think about some bad friendship breakups I had, too. 

4. God Help the Girl (2014) dir. Stuart Murdoch

"I've been inside my own head for way too long."

Eve is a catastrophe — low on self-esteem but high on fantasy, especially when it comes to music. Over the course of one Glasgow summer, she meets two similarly rootless souls: posh Cass and fastidious James, and together they form a group.

This might be one of the less known movies on this list but it's such a touching and important story to me. I see myself in Eve and it's been this way since I first watched this movie, almost ten years ago. I can agree that some things feel a bit awkward and corny but I just love it too much. When I'm down, I listen to the songs and they help me to go through my day. They're simple but so, so good. I really love Emily Browning's voice. She's absolutely charming. I'm so glad I found this movie because I feel like I needed it in my life. It resonated with me ten years ago and it still do to this day. For different reasons. But it's kind of my hidden treasure. Something I care about in my own corner of the world. I never met anyone else who knew this movie before I brought it up so maybe it's mine, in some kind of way. 

5. Flying Colors (2015) dir. Nobuhiro Doi

"You go and find your own dreams too, okay?"

An academically challenged high school student sets her sights on passing the entrance exam for a prestigious university.

I love this movie more than anything in the world. I love Sayaka and her family (except her dad). I've also written a long review that's been posted somewhere so feel free to read that, too! Learning that this story was based on a real teacher made me feel many, many things. I feel like nowadays children need and deserve more teachers like the one in this movie. Someone who loves teaching and seeing his pupils get better. Someone passionate about his job and his students. I don't think I ever had a teacher like that. I had nice ones but they weren't passionate. They liked me mainly because I was nice and shy and didn't make any fuss. 

6. Rye Lane (2023) dir. Raine Allen-Miller

"But, I'll get there... eventually."

Two twenty-somethings, both reeling from bad break-ups, connect over the course of an eventful day in South London — helping each other deal with their nightmare exes, and potentially restoring their faith in romance.

I really, really enjoy romcoms and I've probably seen most of them. The most well-known, at least. And Rye Lane was such a good watch! I didn't really expect anything and, the first time I've seen it, I went in completely blind. It was the best surprise. Dom is such a nice and kind person and Yas is literally so pretty and wonderful? I fell in love with her within the first twenty minutes of the movie. They're just so, so, so, so, so adorable and funny together! Their love story is the kind of romance I really like. Love at first sight but with kind of a twist... My babies! 

7. Silver Skates (2020) dir. Michael Lockshin

"Sometimes the hardest decisions are the simplest ones to make."

1899, the Christmas-time St. Petersburg. Ice-covered rivers and canals of the capital seethe with festive activities. On the eve of the new century those who should not be destined to meet, come together. 

I love figure skating and I love period movies so this story was perfect for me. It's more skating than figure but I like it nonetheless! The found family trope is really good in this one, too. Matvey and Alice are so lovely... I think about the scene in the boat many times a week. It's just that good! I just wish some things were a bit more explored but that's it. I have so much love for this movie... 

8. Marrowbone (2017) dir. Sergio G. Sánchez

"We can't live in a tomb."

A young man and his three younger siblings are plagued by a sinister presence in the sprawling manor in which they live.

This story never fails to make me feel like all the sadness in the universe has made its home in my heart. There's just so much pain and melancholy, you wouldn't even imagine it's supposed to be a horror movie! Or even a thriller. For me, it's mainly a drama about a family and their demise. It's a tragedy. You wouldn't imagine what they have to go through during this movie. I love them all so much... Even Mia Goth, whom I really dislike, couldn't make me stop loving this movie. It's just that brilliant. It's just that good. If you haven't seen it yet, you really should. Even if you're not a fan of horror stories, you should still try! The plot won't disappoint you. I swear. 

9. How to Steal a Million (1966) dir. William Wyler

"Explain it to me again."

A woman must steal a statue from a Paris museum to help conceal her father's art forgeries.

It might be my favourite Audrey Hepburn movie of all times!!! It's just so lovely and funny! The two main characters have such a great alchemy and their relationship is one of the best I've seen Audrey Hepburn play on screen. Like, for once, her co-star isn't thirty years older than her! He's so pretty and charming! Of course, there are a few problems with this movie but I can understand it because it was like that at the time. Kissing women without their consent was something quite normal in this kind of movies. Doesn't mean I'm okay with it, though. But it won't make me hate this movie. If you'd like something silly but still serious at time, I highly recommend you to watch it!

10. The Princess Bride (1987) dir. Rob Reiner

"As you wish."

In this enchantingly cracked fairy tale, the beautiful Princess Buttercup and the dashing Westley must overcome staggering odds to find happiness amid six-fingered swordsmen, murderous princes, Sicilians and rodents of unusual size. But even death can't stop these true lovebirds from triumphing.

I can't believe I've waited twenty-one years before watching this movie. I can't believe I'm the person I am today without this movie being part of my growth. It's everything I love about a story! It has pretty people, romance, well-crafted fight scenes, Inigo Montoya, humour and sincerity. It's such a great story! With great characters! I couldn't say a single bad thing about this movie even if I tried. I could probably watch it ten times every months and still wouldn't be bored of it. Also, it took me a really embarrassing time to notice that Westley is Lawrence from Saw...