Is there such a thing as too nice? Yes, there is. How do I know this? I. Am. Too. Fucking. Nice. Too nice. It hasn't gotten me anywhere in life. I don't know if it's a romcom thing that says that nice will get you anywhere in life (or at least get you the hottest girl), in real life nice just doesn't work.

I have to admit that I've changed and gradually become a little more selfish and it's paid off. A balance has to be struck and i'm still learning how to strike that balance.

Soon!

I haven't been posting lately because there was something wrong with my post settings and my writing wasn't breaking into paragraphs and it irritated the hell out of me.

Have you noticed how similar creative people are so similar? So dysfunctional? How deeply they feel everything? the neurosis? How much I can understand why Woody Allen could do something like marry his daughter?

I long to be shallow sometimes. I long to not read deep into anything, to be 'normal'. That's not to say the way I am is abnormal, it's just harder to find people like me on average, but then maybe I'm just looking in the wrong places.

Why, I endlessly wonder does everyone try to be different? What's the value?

At the end of the day, what's wrong with being the same? Part of a group?

And just like that, I've lost track of what I'm on about.

They lied. Everyone that said time heals. It heals nothing. I swear, me and you was yesterday and I miss you. I can live with it, I'm not saying I can't, but since when was living with anything a sign of anything? I. Cannot. Move. On. I keep waiting for time to wash indifference over me, argh, I can make this long and still come to the same end. I'm fucked. I miss you.

I wanted you to tell me who you wanted me to be, so I could become that person for you. Was I not pretty enough maybe? I wanted to look exactly how you pictured attractive to look. More make-up? less? Natural hair? Braids up to there? Bigger? Smaller? Thinner? Fatter? How much shorter did you need me to be? I love flats Much taller? I really like heels too. What did you need me to listen to? Watch? read? did you want me to even read at all? I wanted to put my interests aside and fall in love with yours. I wanted to laugh exactly when you laughed in the movie. I wanted all the things you found funny to be funny to me. Everything you were interested in, I wanted to know first. So I could tell you, show you. So you could love me. I needed you to tell me who you needed me to be. So you could love me.

I Had a Girlfriend Once...

I had a girlfriend once. Everytime I spent the weekend at her place, she had the exact same routine. She'd wake up sometime after six and before seven. She'd read till about seven thirty. She read everything; news, blogs, magazines...but sometimes she'd be in the middle of an excellent book and she'd wake up and read that. I often woke up to find her reading, tears silently streaming down her face as she got involved in a fictional tragedy. She would get up at about seven thirty, pee, then brush her teeth. She would put on her running gear and go for a run. sometimes she was back after 10 minutes and sometimes after an hour, but she always went for a run. She'd was her face, bring me a toothbrush with toothpaste on it and go and make breakfast. I'd brush my teeth and go and see what she was making. That was usually the first time we spoke. She had speakers everywhere. She'd put on her present favorite album and it would play on repeat all day. really loudly. Then after breakfast, she would write. She was always in the middle of a story in her head. Sometimes, it was mundane and sometimes it was over the top. She was just always somewhere else. Sometimes she'd let me in by discussing her characters. 'Daniel cheated on Gabby, you know? I don't think she can take him back, even though she really wants to.' Then she would sigh. Her characters were always real to her, I could often not tell whether the person she was talking about was created or real. Sometimes, she'd only write for 20 minutes and then come and find me. She would curl herself s tightly as he could into me and take a nap. Or just start talking about something completely random. Or she would be quiet and let me speak about whatever I wanted. She was an amazing listener and she never got bored. Everyone's story was a story she could use. In the evening, we would go somewhere. The cinema or dinner. She would always hold my hand, but she hardly spoke. She wasn't really a talker, so whenever I was with her, I wasn't a talker either. I met someone that was a talker. It was different. We talked about everything. Sometimes I'd talk to her all through my lunch break and not even notice I hadn't eaten. We talked in the morning and in the middle of the night. She told me everything and I felt like a well had opened inside of me. I just had so much to say. In many ways, it was easy to spend all my time talking to someone else. The quiet weekends with my girlfriend became furious text-a-thons for me. I put a password on my phone, even though she never checked it and started waking up before her. I stopped taking naps with her and got irritated when she wandered from her writing to find me. If she noticed, she didn't say anything and that often irritated me. Everything irritated me during this time. I got deeper and I started to get careless, or maybe I just didn't care about my girlfriend finding out. A message popped up on my phone during dinner. Damn iphones. 'I wish I you were here with me'. Her lack of reaction made me fall over myself trying to explain. She looked really sad. 'If she's what makes you happy, I wish you'd have just told me and left me alone.' That broke my heart. Our relationship ended as silently as it had been. My new girlfriend was fun. We did things. Talked about things. I think I loved her. I loved our relationship, it was fun, until it wasn't. We started running out of things to say and I longed for the silence. In the gaps, there was no intimacy there. If she wasn't talking, I didn't really know her. More and more, i thought of my old girlfriend. I knew she hated when I left because she never looked back when she said bye. She didn't want me to see her crying. I knew she loved anything that tasted of honey and hated chocolate. I knew all the things that made her laugh and most of the things that made her cry. I knew she loved weddings, but hated the idea of marriage. I knew she found it hard to trust anyone and always felt like she never fit in with people. I know she hated literary fiction because it over stated simple things. I knew she loved unfinished endings, because it felt more like real life. I knew her. It wasn't because of all the things she said, it was all the things she forced me to see by not saying anything. I had a girlfriend once. I think she may have been my soulmate.

Every mistake you made can be made sooner. Everytime something bad happens, for the first few minutes/ hours afterwards, depending on how bad it is, I just break down and cry. I've had many of those this year already, but I realised something...it's a blessing that I get to make these mistakes now. It's best that all these things happen when really, I don't have that much to lose. I don't have that far to fall...so even if I did hit rock bottom, it wouldn't be the end of the world. Off course I've made some mistakes that people my age may have learned ages ago...but everyone has their own journey and this is my own. So I'm giving myself a damn break! Constantly dwelling in blame and self pity is really quite a useless place to be. And honestly, nothing good comes out of that place. So, right now today, I'm grateful for all the mistakes I'm able to make now.

I was going through my past yesterday. It's funny how much one person can completely change you. It was strange to see how I was. I honestly did not care about anyone's opinions about me. I did, thought, said and felt whatever I wanted. Then I met someone that cared and then made me care. I started to care a lot- too much about everything. Stuff that doesn't even matter. I didn't realise until I was looking back at evidence of who I used to be, how much I miss that person. The truth is, I can't go back. It's silly to ever want to go back anyway, you should always want to move forward. But I miss the old me. Or do I? Maybe, on a level, we should care what other people think about what we do? I don't know. Actually, no, I miss the old me. When you don't care, there are no hurdles on your path to self discovery. You can literally do ANYTHING. Another thing is consistency. I've never been consistent in my life. 4 goals that I've always had forever and I keep repeating are 'write, be consistent, be fluent in french, be healthy'. These are the first on my list whenever I decide to re-evaluate my goals. None of these things has ever happened. Oh wait, sometimes...I'm pretty healthy. I'm going to stop now.

I hate being emotionally attached to anyone. For some people, it's like a goal...they want that cute thing that couples have...they want someone to make their heart beat fast and all that. Me? not so much.

I HATE THAT FEELING.

I've never really appreciated liking someone. Inbetween the cute moments are the moments that occur more often where I just want to scream and not feel anymore.

I hate the lack of control.

I hate someone else having any influence on my mood.

I hate thinking of them all the time.

I hate caring whether or not there's a message on my phone from them.

I like nothing about emotions. It's annoying and stressful and much more peaceful to just have friends and chill.

I really like when someone is heartbroken and I cannot relate to the pain. Obviously, I don't like people being heartbroken...it's sad and i've been there...it's not nice. However, I loved the detached feeling of looking at a heartbroken person and feeling bad for them but not truly relating to how they feel.

And I'm not saying all emotion ends in heartbreak. I'm saying I can do without all the highs and lows.

For now at least, I like stable.

everyone that has been dumped secretly wishes the person that dumped them is crying into their pillow, wishing they didn't do it.

The truth is, they hardly ever are. I'm always amused by how strongly people believe in cliches when it comes to the end of a relationship. 'They won't last' 'Noone can love him like me' 'I'm the best thing that ever happened to him'...bullshit...bullshit...bullshit.

Human beings move on. It's what we do. Don't let Greys anatomy fool you into thinking that 10 years from now, the 17 year old love of your life will come swanning back as if they never left.

LIES. LIES. LIES.

Don't look at exceptions. People are exceptionally good at moving on. When you get dumped, so yourself a favour. Delete all contact information and social media alliances and move the hell on.

Stalking, even done in the privacy of your home, isn't cute.

Friendship Whores

I don't like being friends with whores. I don't mean that in the regular sense of people who have sex for money...I mean people that give everything to everybody. You know, the kind of person that has like 50 best friends. When something happens, everyone knows. They talk a lot to everyone. They don't really have that concept of 'special'. Everyone is special, so noone is special.

I cant have a relationship or friendship or anything that ends in 'hip' with anyone that treats everyone the same. Your friends are not your children...you're allowed to have favorites. Mind you, I don't want to be everybodys best friend. Far from it infact, that would be a nightmare. I like, however, to know where I stand in people's lives. If I'm an acquaintance, I want to be just that...if we're friends, that's good too. If EVERYBODY is your close friend, then the value of your friendship is diminished and I don't want.

Now, why am I writing this? I'm not sure. I guess some things really are just pointless.

Friendships, I find are exactly like relationships. Just the other day, a friend broke up with me. Like literally, break-up speech and everything. 'It's not you, it's the situation' (who actually says it's not you, it's me).

Anyway, I looked at my phone in amusement as the messages came in...each one a variation of the last. The most amusing was 'I don't want this to turn into an argument btw'...who argues when they are being broken up with?

It did make me think though. When someone expels you from their life, you should always think. It's so easy to imagine that you're the perfect person that someone is missing out on. Truth is, it's never really a matter of 'he who is wrong is wrong'...there's usually something to be learnt about improving yourself. Not altering yourself to the point where you're a completely different person...not changing yourself to suit someone else's idea of what you should be. Improving.

I did come to a few conclusions. It all boiled down to being more respectful of people. I may not be able or willing to change my laid-back attitude and if I call someone, I'm more inclined to open with conversation about myself and I often put myself far above others. These are all things that maybe should change, but probably wouldn't...right now.

The one thing I do want to change and have started to be more aware of is respect. For people, their opinions, their feelings and for friendships and the differences between expectations in any relationship.

So, what I'm saying is...respect.

She stared at the empty screen in front of her and willed her mind to fill it. Her heart had been wringed out of her chest and she lacked the capacity to observe the world anymore. She started writing many times but each line sounded wrong and empty and threatened to go nowhere, so her hand remained on the backspace button, while her head willed the words to come.

She typed.

All I want to do is write about you. I miss you. Your eyes, your smile, the stupid way you danced.

I miss the way you always knew what I was going to say and talked to me for hours about things that to other people seemed irrelevant and mundane.

When you made me breakfast and lunch and dinner and all the things inbetween. How you forced me to try new things and knew what I liked before me.

Your laugh.

Waking up next to you.

Sleeping next to you.

Waking up so tightly entwined together, any limb could belong to anyone.

She stopped typing because she knew that retrospect made everything perfect. That her mind had lost the ability to see wrong or bad. Maybe that was the beauty of love. Being able to squeeze out every bit of good from every bit of bad. Being able to see past actions to the soul of a person to understand their worst actions.

The way you wouldn't let me stay mad at you.

She would write about love.

I realised that I only cared because someone else did. But it doesn't matter who cared. It doesn't matter if it's someone or it's noone. And transferring that power, the power to do something- anything in life is stupid. The only person that should have the power is you. The only person it should matter to is you. Because at the end of the day, it's YOUR life. And yes, sometimes, you look at everyone else that has everybody believing what the say...but it doesn't matter. The lives that anyone else lives has no bearing on your life. Unless and until you break free from these beliefs, they will determine everything you do. They will bring you down. And sometimes, when you think you can do something, the only way to do it is to do it. The only way to grow is to grow. You have to do it even when it hurts. Even when you're the only person in the room that can hear yourself and noone else cares. THE ONLY PERSON THAT HAS TO CARE IS YOU.

Some nights I can't sleep because of the crippling fear. So many things scare me. But the only reason that they scare me is I KNOW that I'm not fighting hard enough. I know I'm coasting. And I know that if I carry on like this, all my fears will come to pass, so I can't let them.

Fears exist in the mind and I need to stop living in my mind and start living in real life.

ACID

It wasn't how she thought she'd be spending her new year.

She pulled down her too short glittery skirt and tried to make out her friends in the crowd. The neon sign of the club was blinding her. 'ACID' it said in bright pink neon lettering. No subtlety there.

She saw them huddled in a corner ear the door. They wore similar outfits to her and she hated to say it, but they looked...desperate.

'Hey' she shouted, tottering towards them in heels she could barely walk in. They waved back and Kike brought out a cigarette. She reached their small circle and gestured for a cigarette before she spoke.

'What's the plan?'

'We go in, have fun and enter a new year'...Uche tried to sound enthusiastic, but she just sounded tired.

'Ok let's go in then'

They walked towards the entrance. '20 pounds each' the bouncer said straight faced.

They watched three girls go in without paying. They didn't protest. They knew a pointless battle. They walked to the small pay booth and paid.

The lights in the club were even more painful than the neon sign. It was already packed. They found some standing space next to one of the speakers. Each beat felt like something was shattering in her brain.

This was not how she was supposed to spend new year.

Noone spoke about getting drinks. It was too loud to speak anyway and they could barely see the bar for all the people around it.

She closed her eyes for a minute and pictured what her life should be like. She should be at home convincing her child to stay up. She should be cracking jokes with her husband.

Anything. But. This.

She was 30 and in a nightclub in a too short skirt on New Years Eve desperately trying to have fun.

She felt someone tug at her sleeve. 'We're going to try the bar', someone was shouting in her ear.

'Ok'

They took it as indication that she was going to follow, but she stayed where she was. Then she ran. She ran out of the club, past the pay booth and the ugly bouncer at the door. She left her heels on a side street somewhere and didn't stop running. The pavement felt cool beneath her feet and she was hopelessly out of breath but she couldn't stop running.

When she finally stopped, she was right at the spot where the pain started. The house he lived in. The house he lived in with his family. The family that he made so quickly after her. The family that broke her heart a little more everyday. That made her life rot away gradually as if infected by a poisonous acid.

She saw a light come on in an upstairs window and watched a curtain close. She cried silently for what she promised to be the last time. This might be an equally desperate start to the new year, but at least it was honest.

Fireworks exploded around her and she could hear load chants of 'HAPPY NEW YEAR' from the insides of houses.

She started the long journey home.

It was time for a new start.

Challenge/Competition

Happy new year my lovelies!!!

I haven't ever done a competition or challenge, so her goes both!

For 30 days, I'm going to write a short story every day.

But the ideas are going to come from you. It can be a title, the first line of the story...even a word! be creative.

For every idea, I use...the person gets a printed copy and signed copy of the story sent to them in the post.

At the end of the challenge...everyone who participates will be randomly entered into a draw to win a printed/signed copy of all the stories. BECAUSE YOU NEVER KNOW! ONE DAY IT COULD BE WORTH SOMETHING!!! The winner would also receive other things that have not yet been identified at this point, because c'mon! I just thought of this!

lol

You can submit ideas by commenting on this post and then any of the posts in the next 30 days. You can give as many as you want. You can also tweet me the ideas @sexywriter

I promise to think more carefully about the details of the competition and come up with better prices.

But please participate guys!

xxx