justaoifethings

Dear Becky, You're seeing him for the first time in months. Yes, he'll have to go home again, but this will be one of the, of not the, last time. Besides, it's been like that every time. You're not going to ruin the 10 days we have together with your shit, Becky. I'm not letting you make me worry over this stupid thing. It's going to be awesome and christmas is going to be lovely. Yes, it'll be sad when he goes home, but we're on the last stretch of the ldr then. But I'm not going to let the thoughts of him going home consume me for the 10 days because then what's the point? I'm going to live in the moment and enjoy every second, so fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off fuck off (sorry, that's rather therapeutic). Until next time, Aoife Small update: no new posts until about new years, going to spend some time with my boyfriend. Stay safe, and have a happy Christmas! X

A few weeks ago, I had a conversation with someone we'll call Lauren. She found out about my blog and asked me what I wrote about. Mental health, mostly, I told her. Isn't that morbid?, she asked. And then I was fascinated. Because I was expected to keep the suffering I had gone through to myself, because it was, and I quote, morbid. I understand that people can be triggered by certain things, but it wasn't as if she had even read the blog before, and she had no clue how I approached it. Lauren asked me, cringing, was it not attention seeking. Not at all, I told her. If you're happy about something, you would put it online. If someone else is happy about something and post it online, that's ok too. Why is that not attention seeking? Everything we put online is attention seeking in a way. Changing your profile picture on facebook is attention seeking, right? You want likes and it's how you want people to perceive you. So if that's ok, so is putting your...

Sometimes I feel that I'm watching life slip by me, in terms of being social. I'm almost 18, but I've never been to a party. I was invited to one once, but had a panic attack and didn't go. Sorry about that, Eugene. On Facebook, there's pictures of people going out and just having a good time. Even in school, everyone hangs out together and everyone gets along so well. But then there's me. I'm such an outsider, and I know it. I have a couple of friends, but only one who's really close, who I know genuinely enjoys spending time with me (I hope). But even she is able to branch out, go to gigs and pubs and parties. I actually haven't seen anyone socially in about four months. I just use the excuse of school, but in reality, I'm just scared. I can't just walk up to people in school and strike up a conversation. I suppose I get paranoid. I'm afraid that people think I'm weird. I'm awkward when conversations arise which probably ...

Am I terrified about putting this post up? Yes. Do I feel extremely exposed? Yes. So why am I putting this up? So that others that have panic attacks don't feel that they're alone. And maybe to help those who are around people with panic attacks to understand them. Even though everyone's panic attacks are different, this is my experience with them. I wrote this whilst having a panic attack and this photo was taken five minutes after.  But it's important to remember. I think hope dies for everyone, at least once in their lives. But it always resurrects, in one form or another, if you give it a chance. You have to give it time. Sometimes you're not sure. It's almost like a nightmare twist to an orgasm. It builds up, sometimes without you noticing. Something flips that switch, and hell let's loose. Your hands clench into fists, your feet curl up on themselves as if for protection. You forget about everything in the world apart from that one thing that...

Dear Becky, To be honest, I can understand where you're coming from on this one, but you're being over dramatic. This was such an exciting thing and I had no hesitation in being a part of it. I know I didn't realise at the time that she would be there, but it's ok. That was a long time ago, and it was always her decision to not speak to you. She avoids eye contact, let alone talks to you. She won't talk to you while you're there and can't hurt you because other people will be there. Don't let her ruin something that's so exciting. I don't have to talk to her. I doubt she'll show up half of the time. You do your job and be the best you can be. It'll be like there's a soft shadow in the background, but that's ok. She's not scary. She's not going to hurt you. She's not going to talk to you. She won't show up after a few times, I'm guessing. So I get your worry initially, Becky, but calm down. You see now that y...

One of the very few poems I've ever written. I hope you enjoy! I will write a more 'normal' post tomorrow, that isn't a piece of fiction I have written, in case you dislike this kind of thing Does he look over us As we slip away? Waiting to take our hand, he watches Despising the fear he brings The party engulfed in depression No voice can emerge from his lungs A soul reborn, they meet him Seemingly a friendly face Away, he takes them, from family and friends Deep into the unknown

I have a lot of peculiar dreams. I don't remember them often, but when I do, they're weird. Really weird. They often make no sense, so I've decided to face the challenge of writing it down in such a way it will make sense. If you enjoy it, you can let me know in the comments, twitter or Facebook! If not, I'll most likely write another if I enjoy writing this one. I was so excited. I was running up a rather magnificent set of stairs, with a group of friends I don't recall, most likely because they don't exist. "I can't wait to see this!" I gushed. "I wonder how they made this into a film? I heard the game had over two hundred endings." I was talking about the game Until Dawn, which, in my dream had obviously been adapted into a film. Then we got up the stairs, and we mindlessly walked whilst still bursting with excitement, and then we walked in front of glass panes and the nightmare ensued. There were all the characters, flailing, ...