As a child i was always told i couldn’t have nice things because i would destroy them.

Who knew this was a character trait i would carry into my adult life?


As I sit here and begin to write in this blog again my heart is heavy with guilt and regret. Many of you have written to me over the last few months and asked why I have stopped posting. The truth is this was started out of love. I had a particularly awful breakup and I needed an outlet. I’m sure if you read some previous posts you will get an insight into all the details. However one posting you will not see is one entitled ‘The dating game’. The dating game was a post regarding sex. I wrote about how sex felt different, how, since I had been sleeping with someone I truly loved sex seemed so inferior.

This Post was in fact discovered by my ex who misread the tags and assumed it was a note to glorify the joys of promiscuity and revel in my new found single life. This caused quite the argument. Unpredictably this ended up being the best thing that ever happened to us. The idea of me being with anyone else in that capacity threw him, he could not stomach the thought of me moving on. He had so much love that all the insignificant reasons for our breakup fell away. He wanted me, all our plans of a life together fell back into place. This was OUR future, OUR time, OUR London.

And so began ‘long distance’. Anyone who has been in a long distance relationship knows how tough it is. I went into it with complete naivety and relied purely on my heart. To be fair to him he has been amazing. He has spent the last few months arising early and scheduling me in. He has been fine when there have been days when we can’t speak. All in all he has been perfect. All you could ask for.

Enter my own insecurities. I have a million. I have spent my life feeling un-loveable. Even with my family I am sure in their hearts they all secretly like each other a bit more than me. That through birth I was automatically given entry into the fold but have never truly felt that security. It’s an awful thing to think, and as an intelligent human being I’m sure it’s completely untrue, but its how my mind works.

Recently something changed inside me. I have always been a little self destructive, ruining things for myself or getting myself into situations that are hugely negative or dangerous. It’s like my body wants a challenge and nine times out of ten I fail and end up hurting myself. Recently the feeling of doubt came upon me. Completely fabricated and created by myself. Completely fictional but seeming entirely real to me at the time. I have sat there for the last month picking arguments. I have tortured this poor guy by asking him to do one thing and then criticising him for doing it. My brain has been on self destruct. I have flipped out a million times and tried to call time on our relationship because I’m so insecure that I cannot handle the fact that maybe, just maybe someone actually loves me.

I stopped writing this blog because I didn’t need it. I didn’t need an outlet for my emotions because they were entirely positive. I was so happy. I had achieved everything I had wanted. So why now? Why start writing again?

 Because I fucked it all up.

One day I did it. In a fit of anger I broke it off. He threw his hands up and surrendered. I pushed him so far that his love can’t bring him back. The boy who couldn’t think of anything worse than seeing me with someone else had given up. I hurt him so much with my words and my vile tongue that I destroyed the thing I have wanted for so long. The most important thing in my life. And I have begged. As I write to you I am sobbing because I begged. I have never cared so little for myself that I have begged for forgiveness. I have prayed to god that it is salvageable that he will give me this one chance to be with him. But he can’t. He saw me. More than anyone else has ever seen me. I never let anyone so close and he didn’t like it. The idea of being with me terrifies him to the point were he has no trust and he can comfortably cut me from his life. I did that. Through my fears and anxiety of losing him I managed to strip him of love. I destroyed our relationship. He is done.

Usually I would end with a thought provoking positive passage about looking to the future and still searching for love. I don’t think I deserve it. I was given it on a platter, I was handed happiness and I stood all over it. Who does that make me? What kind of person does that mean I am? And that is why I’m back here. Back pouring my heart out to anonymous people around the world. I have no person to blame but myself and I don’t know how to recover from this. I don’t know how to fix my life. I was broken before but there was always hope. I don’t have any now. I hurt the love of my life and I can never get them back. Heartbreaking stuff folks. I’m sorry if this has brought you down today, I just hope someone relates to this so I know I’m not the only crazy person in the world who feels like a fool.


4 Comment on “Why I Can’t Have Nice Things.

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