I’ve been with my boyfriend for about a month now, he’s sweet, kind, and lovely. We’d known each other for about a year before we got together, and became very close. Even when he’d not had the courage to tell me how he felt, I always got the impression he liked me.

So about a month ago we got together, but nothing’s changed at all; we barely see each other, we only really speak to each other via text or MSN. And as lovely as he is, I just don’t see us progressing any further than we are currently. I’ve got to consider what’s going to happen when I go to University; the one I like best is over 2 hours away, and I’m not going to be coming home frequently. It’s just making me question wether it’s all worth it. I know we’ve still got like a year before I go, but I don’t want to get overly attached if it’s going to end because of distance. I don’t know, I’ve never been in a long distance relationship before, so I don’t know how they work out. And I don’t want to have to deal with temptation when I’m there either. I’m not saying I’ll cheat with every guy I meet – I’m not like that at all – but I’m going to be making new relationships.

I think what I’m scared of at the moment is upsetting him. Because of his condition, I have no idea how he’d take a break up. I’m not saying that’s what’s going to happen, but I don’t know.

I guess you could say I’m having second thoughts about it all, but I really hate letting people down.

And it’s not that I don’t like him or anything, because I do, but I don’t know whether going through all of this is worth it, because I don’t want to hurt him when we do finally have to call it a day.

I just wish I had someone I could talk to it about; most of my friends are really good friends with him, and I don’t want to lose them, and my best friend is all like “Awwwh you and him”.

I don’t want to let anybody down, but no matter what I choose to do, it’s going to affect someone.




So it was my friend’s 18th earlier this week and I’ve just found out that he and all of my other friends are going out tonight. No one mentioned anything to me. I don’t know how to feel about that.

So I’ve just come back from Parent Tutor Day. Pretty much the same as always, excellent attendance, working well, well suited to my courses. My Tutor makes one comment about how I’ve become more confident and has a result sometimes come across as highly opinionated, not always listening to other people and my mother takes it completely the wrong way. Hands up; I’ll admit, yes I am an opinionated person and I will fight my corner when I need to, but I’m not the rude and abusive person she seems to see me as.

We’ve come home and she’s not praised me at my high predictions and the rate that I’m working in at class. She’s laid into me about how I’m rude and never listen to what anybody else has to say, how I always cut over people when they’re talking, how I never admit I’m wrong, how I can never have a discussion without raising my voice. Yet she stands here and does exactly the same thing.

I tried to explain that everybody does it occasionally, and it’s not something that we can help. At this point she’s cutting over me before I’ve finished my sentence. Apparently me pointing this out to her is not justified.

She said how I’d invited myself into a conversation she was having with someone today, a conversation which was about me. If something’s about me, don’t you think I’ve got a right to put across my opinion? If they’re talking about teachers I’ve had, how I’ve found them, or what Universities I’ve liked, surely I have the right to tell them what I think?

I pointed this out and she chose to ignore it. I asked her, “Suppose if I was having a conversation with Grandma. You cut in and give your input.” She replies with a mere “I’m an elder.” When I point out my Grandmother would be an elder to her, she ignores me again.

She has a go at me for wandering about when she talks to me, yet when I try to talk to her, nine times out of ten, she doesn’t listen to me, ignores what I have to say, or tells me she doesn’t care. For instance, one of my friend’s families were involved in the whole Sharm el Sheikh deal recently. When I told her she didn’t care, wasn’t interested in their ordeal at all. I thought this might be a topic of interest, not trivial things like who’s one X Factor this year. Obviously not.

As I was trying to discuss the whole fuss about Parent Tutor day, she told me to “Shut the fuck up” and get out of her sight.

I’ve done so. I’m sitting in my room in tears again.

University can’t come soon enough.



I really want to under cut my hair. The bit I’ve sectioned off would go. I’m thinking a number 2, but I’d leave the bottom little bis around my side burn long. So it all blends in like. I pitched the idea to my mum and she told me I’d look like a dyke. Her words not mine. She needs a slap. She can’t seem to deal with bucking the trend.

At the end of the day, it’s my hair, I’m seventeen and I should be able to do what I like with it. Don’t you agree?

Oh Mother!


So I’m back posting sooner that I had first anticipated.

And here is the first (probably of many) vents:

My mother is a total control freak. I know most mother’s are, but I’ve never met any at the same level as her.

Before I start on that, let me give you a little information about myself:

Currently, I’m in my final year of my A Levels (Media Studies, English Language and Literature and Psychology.) and I’m hoping next September, providing I get the required grades and survive my interviews, to start a Photography Undergraduate Course at university (I’m doing all of the tours at the moment, so I’m not 100% settled on which one.), for which I’m required to bring along a portfolio. I’m in the process of putting mine together now, amongst other things that I’m juggling.

Anyway. I got in from school and my mum asked me if I’d gotten round to emailing my English teacher my personal statement to have a run through. I told her I hadn’t and began to explain that our particular word processor couldn’t be opened on the school computers, and that I was going to resend it in a different format this evening, along with some work I needed to send her.

Well she completely flew off the handle, shouting at me that I’d never get it done, wouldn’t get it checked, not get it sent off to UCAS in time and ultimately, not get in to university this year. I have completed my personal statement, am ready to send it off, and would just like some one to go over it for my own piece of mind.

After explaining this to her, she still wasn’t having any of it. She the proceeded to inform me that I also wouldn’t get my portfolio put together in time and told me that she believed that I had given up on going to university all together. Only today, I was talking to my friends about my excitement about leaving home and starting my course.

She then declared that this was all down to my boyfriend. The same boyfriend who tells me that he’s excited for me to go to university and experience what he’s missed out on. Apparently, I spend all of my time thinking about him, all I want to do is be with him and this has distracted me from my studies and has changed my mind about university.

I could appreciate this if it held an ounce of truth. I see my boyfriend very rarely, a couple of days a week at the most, and only ever for a couple of hours; on the days he doesn’t have to be at work or college before eleven, he walks me to school and then meets me after work on Fridays and Saturdays and walks me home. I tend to spend an hour in the evening talking to him online most nights, after I’ve done the work I need to. I hardly think this is excessive.

She then started asking me “What’s wrong with him? Why wont he come to the door to meet you?” -he tends to wait outside of my house. My boyfriend suffers from GAD – general anxiety disorder. He get very nervous around people he doesn’t know, and doesn’t like to displease anyone. My mother is fully aware of his condition, yet still she makes these remarks. She continues, telling me “I heard you say you should have come to the door. Why wont he?” I turned around and told her exactly what he had told me; he had not knocked the door because the curtains in my parent’s bedroom were drawn. He didn’t know whether my mother was on nights and didn’t want to wake her up by ringing the doorbell or knocking the door.  She still didn’t seem to understand.

She then informed me that I wouldn’t be going out at the weekend. I have half made plans with one of my friends to go to the cinema. I asked her why, and she replied; “Because I said so.” I’m seventeen fucking years old. “Because I said so” doesn’t cut it anymore. I asked her what I’d done wrong. She told me; “Nothing.” I asked her; “So I’m being punished … because I’ve not done anything wrong?” She hesitated and said; “Your room’s a mess.”

By mess, she means I had some items “where they didn’t belong” i.e. the school books I’d been working in late last night and hadn’t put away before I went to bed. Or the laptop bag resting against my wardrobe that usually lives under my bed, but it’s home has been occupied by the hideous blue futon that use to be my brother’s. Admittedly, I had left the house this morning with my bed unmade, but only because I had overslept this morning, due to the fact I’d been up until late doing research for my coursework. This didn’t seem to cut it with her.

She also began to bang on about getting my priorities in order; keeping my room tidy, getting my personal statement done, getting my portfolio together. I pointed out to her that I was currently working on two sets of coursework and preparing for an exam in January. Surely that came first over something that wasn’t due in until after January?  I also highlighted that I’d stand no chance in getting into university, unless I’d managed to get my coursework completed and acquired the sufficient grades I needed. I stated that even if there was the tiniest chance that I didn’t get my UCAS things sorted out in time – which of course is not the route I’m wanting to take – getting my grades meant that I’d be able to apply the following year no trouble.

And of course she took this completely the wrong way; “I knew you didn’t want to go! Well if you don’t want to go, then I’m not supporting you – you can get out as well!” By as well, she’s referring to my fifteen year old brother, who is sitting his GCSEs in May. She is convinced he is going to fail each and every one and has told him that if this is the case, she’s kicking him out and he’ll have to sort himself out a council flat. He is in top set for the majority of his subjects and in most classes, one of the highest achievers.

I told her that I wasn’t planning on doing so, and was just making a point. She ignored me of course. I explained that I’d got a lot of work on at the moment and that I was trying to get things done as they needed doing. She turned around and shouted, “Well you can find time to sit and post things on FaceBook!” I said that I was having a break from studying and do you know what she turned around and said? “You could have spent your break cleaning your room. Doing something that needed doing. It’s funny how you can make time to do the things you want to do, like go to the cinema.” I tried to explain that I needed something other than school work once in a while or I’d just end up stressed and sinking into depression.

I’ve not had this diagnosed, but I’m pretty sure I have some form of it. My dad suffers with it, his dad did too, and it looks like my brother and I have inherited it too. I’ve looked up the symptoms on the internet, but I’m to embarrassed to get it checked out, incase my doctor thinks I’m being a stupid hormonal teenager and tells my mother. This, I do not want.

Anyway, she called me pathetic. My mood swings kicked in and I was in floods.

I spent the next twenty minutes trawling through my photostream, searching for images to  include in my portfolio for university, bleary eyed and red faced. And they all looked shit, which didn’t help the situation in the slightest. By this time my mother’s calmed down and came in to see what I was doing. She tried to help me go through, suggesting photos, but I was still so angry at her for her outbursts earlier and upset and disheartened at my work, she didn’t help at all. I ended up just crying at everything she suggested, picking faults with everything. She gave up, shouted at me and left. The crying continued.

I hate crying. I hate getting a red face and looking like a disgusting pig. Crying is for the weak and ugly. And for this reason, when I cry, I cry even more.

I’m tearing up again so I’m going to stop now and do some more work.

I really needed to get this off of my chest.

I’ve started this blog for a couple of reasons.

  1. I need to vent a lot of the time.
  2. I need somewhere where I do so, without real life people reading it too.

See, I’m fairly web 2.0; I have Tumblr, LiveJournal, Flickr etc. but at least one person I know from real life reads them, and knows my profile, and some of the things I’ll be writing in here aren’t really what I’d like them to be reading – sometimes the sort of thing I should talk about to people, but I have problems with trust and telling people things.

I think this will do for now. I’m bound to update later this evening. I have things I want to say, but now’s not a good time.