I realise now it’s really quite difficult to write in a natural way when I know that some people may actually be reading this. It’s like the dilemma you have if you keep a diary (which I do), do you write for yourself? Or do you write with the idea that one day your diaries may be read by your friends? Or worse, published?! My diary reads like the ravings of a very angry lunatic, I plead with my friends not to read them if I die young. I know they will though. I suppose in the case of a blog, I’ll just imagine that anyone reading it is naked. Just as if I was giving a big presentation. Phwoar.
This self-consciousness, even via the internet says a lot about me. In my normal life I constantly worry that I’m in the way (it doesn’t help that I’m quite tall) or getting on everyone’s nerves. But I’ll try to put that aside- as I’ve said before, you don’t have to read this. Also I’m imagining you naked right now, so I win.
This week I’ve been helping Rachel move her ten tons of possessions into her boyfriend’s house while he’s away in Tanzania (it’s okay, he knows she’s moving in... at least I hope he does). I’ve been sleeping at her new place to ensure that she doesn’t get scared or lonely- little does she know that I’m terrified of the dark and in the unlikely circumstance that an axe wielding fruitcake should decide to murder us in the night, I’d be entirely useless. Even more so if the said fruitcake happened to be covered in spiders. We’ve had a fun few days, watching South Park in our pyjamas and having a Game of Life tournament.
This tournament got me to thinking. I’m incredibly, ridiculously unlucky. Not only in games but in life generally. Rachel, when I say these things to her simply sighs (and probably rightly so) but it is worrying. The other night in one of my more emo moods, I made a list of all the men I have dated/been involved with/met and really, really liked, and by these various names I noted the outcomes of each one. All of the outcomes were bad (Obviously the outcomes were all bad- otherwise I wouldn’t be sitting in a single room in my house in Alvaston complaining, with only a cup of tea for company, I’d be swanning around Florence with a handsome man talking about the universe). Reading through that list was just horribly depressing. It’s not just that these things simply ‘haven’t worked out’, they ‘haven’t worked out’ in the most spectacular style. My friends (oh I love them so) soothe me with girly platitudes such as ‘don’t be sad, it’s just that every single man you’ve EVER met isn’t good enough’. I’m sorry, but that’s simply not true. And I don’t think it’s my fault, so I put it down to bad luck.
I’m not just talking about men here either, I’m just generally unlucky in life. Missing a first class degree by 0.85%, bruising like a peach but also being incredibly clumsy, having a deep love of the sea and living in the most land-locked city in the UK, desperately wanting to move to London but being the only person ALIVE who cannot find a job in a city of millions. Do you see? And people say various things such as ‘it’s karma’. I hate this. If ‘karma’ existed, in its truest form, then surely, SURELY one ex-boyfriend in particular would have had ebola by now. No? Or at least a bad case of flu? And I can vouch on my life that I have never, ever done anything so bad to deserve this ridiculous run of bad luck. People may also say ‘you make your own luck in life’. What a load of balls. I really am trying my very hardest to make something of my life but am meeting hurdles at every turn. And I’m no hurdler. I’m just Ella.
And genuinely, this is not a moan about being single. Being single is fine. Yeah, sure, it would be nice to have a hand I could hold now and again. Someone I could borrow books from and smile at the little lines where he’s folded over the corner of a page. But with my luck he’d turn out to be a quite fickle, secretly married, dishonest man who was secretly intending to emigrate to Australia and didn’t tell me because he ‘forgot’.
And I’m sorry if that was a bit depressing to read, and genuinely I hope one day that I can stand up and laugh at the sky and say to the god I don’t believe in ‘HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA’. That will feel nice. But it seems that day is a long way off.
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