This is a short story I wrote. I felt it resembles the thoughts I had growing up. It is a little sad, but I hope you enjoy it. 

She never did like herself. What was there to like? She wasn’t pretty like all the other girls she saw in the street or in the magazines. She wasn’t smart and whilst she liked to believe she was funny, deep inside she knew no one agreed. She wasn’t sexy or cute, the attributes she felt made a person, those she didn’t have. She wasn’t skinny, she had too many chins, one eye higher than the other. What was there to like in her? She honestly didn’t know.
People didn’t think she heard the things they said about her, but she did. Never once were they positive: Ugly”, “Fat”, “your parents must be so proud to have a monster like you”, “Go kill yourself”, “I’d kill myself if I ever looked like that”, “your sister was prettier, smarter, funnier”. People ask why she is so negative, the truth?…when all she ever heard was negative things against her, eventually she began to believe them herself. She must be ugly, she must be a monster. If that’s all people ever had to say about her, then surely it must be true?

Throughout the years, her mind grew used to the hurtful comments not necessarily from other people, but more from herself. She didn’t belong here in the world, she didn’t belong anywhere. Had she not been born, would things have been better? In her mind they would, the negativity would stop and people would be happier with her gone, although…it’s not like they noticed her in the first place. 

As she got older she started thinking of her future, would she ever meet someone? Or have a family? Probably not, as her heart crushing thoughts overwhelmed her. Someone as ugly as her would never be with some one, she couldn’t bare to put someone through the burden of being with her. In the end that’s all she ever was. A burden. 

People ask her why she’s so negative to herself. It seems they’ve forgotten…

She never did like herself.


My battle with Depression 

(WARNING: talk of suicide) 

So last week I went to my doctor in regards to my depression.  I have been battling this over the past few years.

I was convinced for years that my depression was something that I could take care of myself and that I didn’t need to bother anyone about it. However when I think about it now, whilst I’m glad I got help, I worry about whether I should have done it sooner or if it’s too late. 

My depression I believe started when I was very young, I remember not  being a very social child, I rarely hung out with people and found myself alone a lot of the time. This resulted in therapy, I guess I should have realised then that something was wrong. 

For me when it comes to my depression, it makes living life difficult, it’s the feeling of being in a glass case watching life pass by and there’s nothing I can do, it feels like a void. The feeling that I’ll never be happy again. It’s the constant battle with my brain to fight the negativity it throws my way, yet no matter how bad I fight it…I always lose.

What worse for me is the hiding behind the mask that wears a smile everyday, knowing I can never be who the mask represents, that hurts. 

My depression gets the best of me at time, but the worst came in highschool, being a large girl with little to no friends made me an easy target for bullying, this cost me my self esteem, my friends and my coping mechanism. 

It was at this time that the suicide attempts took place, self harm (cutting or punching myself), trying to overdose on pills in the house that I knew no one used, and refusing to eat a lot. 

I was (and still am) convinced that with me out of the picture everyone’s life would be much better, they wouldn’t need to be bothered with my presence anymore. 

The thoughts of how easy to would to simply cease to exist still plague my mind every instance at an alarming level, I see it as the sooner I’m gone the better. 

This has caused me to stop talking to friends with the hope they will move on without me and I’ll no longer be a burden on their lives and they’ll be happier. 

So far this appears to be working…

I hope that with getting therapy some of these issues will be fixed in time, but only time will tell.

Changing of mind 

So as I’ve gotten older I find myself changing my mind an almost daily thing. 

Now this doesn’t relate to what I want for lunch Or what short I want to wear. In short a lot of my mind changed go towards my ever- nearing future. 

As a kid you are asked what you want to be when you are older, when you’re 5, you would say a princess, a mummy or an astronaut.

Then when you are older they ask you again, hoping you answers will be a bit more grown up. When you’re 10, you would say an engineer, a fireman/woman or (if you’re me) a vet. 

Truth be told, I’ve never known what I wanted to do. I always had ideas, some more exciting than others, but I’ve either lost interest or I’ve discovered something that wouldn’t make me suitable for that career. 

All I know is that I like creativity, I occasionally draw (not very well), but I like singing the most. 

The thing about music and singing is it’s a career choice you can spend your whole life doing, with no guarantee you’ll get the recognition you want…hell! You can die without anyone knowing who you are. 
But I think if given the opportunity to pursue singing as a career I would definitely go ahead and do so. 

I’m excited! as I have joined a band, and we plan to get back together in October and start on some new music. Hopefully we’ll start playing gigs soon. 

Whilst I have no doubt our group might not go anywhereib terms of fame, I’m happy just to be there for the music. 

The Big Snip 

Sometimes in life you just need a change.

For as long as I know, my hair has never been shorter than my chin, long hair has always been apart of my life…until now. 

I had always considered short hair, but like many people I was afraid of the outcome and consequences, such as it wouldn’t suit me or I wouldn’t like it and so I put it off for another day. 

That day came on the 8th August 2015, the day I decided to chop all my hair off. 

Here’s me before 

As you can see my hair is pretty long…and pretty difficult to manage, what with the knotting and the matting and the hour and half trying to make it look decent…the time came for the hair to go. 

Now as you can imagine this decision came with a lot repurcussions, such as my mother and sisters warnings of cutting ones hair;

“You’ll look like a man”

“I guarantee you’ll hate it!”

“You don’t have the right face shape”

and as you can imagine these comments made me doubt whether I should cut my hair, nevertheless I decided to go through with it and accept the consequences good or bad for my actions. 

Going into the hairdressers, I felt a little nervous, what would my hairdresser think? Would they agree to it? Would they event cut my hair that short? 

Showing them my cut reference photo  (shown below)

They did agree it was quite a drastic cut and quite short too, but if I was brave enough to go through with it then she was willing to cut it for me. 

So like I had seen in many a YouTube videos of other girls getting their hair cut, the hairdresser put my hair in a ponytail  and then proceeded to cut the ponytail off. 


Might not look like much, but that is one long ass piece of hair…OMG! 

So I was now sporting a quite nice, although relatively uneven, Bob. 

Now a lot of blog posts and YouTube videos of girls cutting their hair off, a lot of them mentioned a feeling of liberation or freedom, for me it felt a little weird it was like 

“Oh god…my hair is gone!” 

But I didn’t feel regret, yes I was a little sad as I had long hair for such a long time, but also remembering the trouble it caused me made me excited to see what my new hair would turn out like. 

The stylist proceeded to highlight the crown of my head so that it was lighter on top and my natural colour stayed at the bottom, this took a good 30-40 minutes, which in all honesty flew by with some good banter to the stylist. 
Another 30-40 minutes of waiting for the colour to set and we were ready to go. 

Now the fun part, the cut itself, the stylist informed me she would cut it a little longer than the picture, so as I could get use to it and if I found I wanted it shorter or parts of the shorter, then I could let her know when I came back. 

She proceeded with the back of my hair, cutting the hair quite short, but not too close to my scalp, even feeling it now, not long after the cut, it still feels weird. 

She put my hair into a parting, which I thought was a bit strange given a lot of my hair would be brushed forward, but I figured she knew best, so I let her continue on. 

More and more hair fell around me, some long pieces, some short pieces, so pieces falling on the floor and other bit in my nose and mouth (I’m still sneezing hair haha!)

Shorter and shorter it got, usually by me telling the stylist to cut that bit shorter, or that bit, or can she cut the fringe a little shorter (cause it was in my eyes) and eventually we were done. 

And here’s the finished product

(Ta da!)


Honestly, it’s taking a little time to get used to…

But I love it! 

More than I ever thought I would 


(Thank You Megan!) 


(I was going to use a spider as the picture for this post…but then I got scared)

^^ and that there is exactly what I will be talking about today. 


Now I understand fear is a necessary part of being human, fear teaches us what’s right and what’s wrong, fear in a way keeps us safe. 

We are born with two fears, falling and loud noises.         

Now I don’t like spiders (cause their horrible and creepy and have too many legs and are just…eugh!), heights (especially if I’m high up and out in the open) or darkness (you can blame horror movies for that.) 

But I feel fear is underestimated in how it affects us phsychologocally.

It’s amazing to see how fear messes with the brain, whether it be a phobia or a scary movie, fear can cause us to act out of the ordinary and do things we wouldn’t associate with normal. 

E.g I have arachnophobia, I HATE spiders, but seeing them (and not even in real life, pictures too) causes images of spider to be stuck in my head and so I see them everywhere I look, thus giving me panic attacks. 

This can go on to the point I will be screaming at literally nothing but the image in my head.                        

It feels like my brain has taken this fear and began taunting me with it. 

The same goes with heights, but this comes in the form of dreams. In the dream, I’m up high like on a bridge or a building and I’ll slip and the next thing I’m falling. 

These dreams were a lot more common when I was younger, and so I would wake in cold sweats in bed, wondering what the hell happened to me. 

However I doubt this is something that only happens to me, but I don’t underestimate that our minds are our own worst enemy and they like to play tricks on us. 

So just be careful everybody…

I Wonder…

So a thought came to me not to long after I woke up. I’ve always enjoyed singing. If I could do one thing for the rest of my life it would be singing.

…but something struck me as odd.

Why is it that in the whole of my family, I’m the only one who actually can sing.

Not trying to toot my own horn but  no one else in my family (as far as I know) is able to hold a tune.

Now don’t get me wrong this doesn’t stop my family from singing (in most cases my mother)  

But I question if this is something to do with genes? 

If so did my ancestors possess the ability to sing and it’s somehow skipped some generations? 

And if so how come the only that got it was me?