Scars Revealed

Before I start this blog: no, the last one was not about Jake cheating on me. I was honestly talking about a friend. If he cheated, this is the first place I'd post.

Remember a long time ago when I cut myself? I'm trying to find the blog where I wrote about it, but can't. For those of you that haven't read this blog the whole way through, awhile ago I was feeling very down and out, and I cut myself. Four tiny cuts on the edge of my left arm. I only did it the once, and never told anybody about it.

Until today. Jake and I were watching Skins (he's addicted - I don't really enjoy it very much, too much drugs and sex for me). The episode was about one of the characters and her being manic depressive. She locked herself in the bathroom and sliced open her wrists. For some reason - even though I never went that far, and never felt that extreme - it got to me and I started tearing up. A lot. Jake looked at me, and once he did it was all over and I was sobbing. He paused the show and held me,

"Baby, baby what's wrong?" I was crying so much that I couldn't speak. I couldn't breathe.

"Big breaths, Six, nice and slow. What's wrong?" Every time he asked me, I would start crying again. I felt stupid, but I couldn't help it. Eventually he figured it out.

"Please tell me you never did that to yourself." A single nod and the tears came pouring out again, but I managed to vaguely explain.

"Never like that. Only. Only once."

"You don't ever have to do that. You would leave so many people behind who care for you. Promise me you'll never do it again."

He wanted to know why. Most importantly, he wanted to know that I was happy now, that I didn't feel that way anymore.

I told him that he was the first person I told, and that no one else knew.

"I'm glad you told me, and no one else ever has to know. It can be a secret between the two of us." I nodded, crying at random intervals for the next couple of hours.

Telling him made me realise that I never really dealt with how I had been feeling at the time. Sure, I never wanted to actually take my own life, but I wasn't happy, and everything seemed to be against me. Telling him was the first release of it I've had.

Cheater?

What constitutes as cheating to you? If your girlfriend or boyfriend so much as looks at another, does that make you suspicious?

What about kissing? If you found out that your significant other had kissed someone that wasn't you, how would you feel?

And sex? If you found out that they'd slept with another, would that be the be all and end all, or would you work through it and overcome it?

My friend kissed another girl that wasn't his girlfriend. To me, this is cheating. It's not the worst kind of cheating, but it's still pretty bad. If I found out that Jake had done that to me, he'd have to do a lot of work to get our relationship back on track, and I think I'd always harbour suspicion. I spoke to Jake about it, and asked if he thought it was cheating, and he said that a kiss was hardly anything.

"So if I kissed another guy you wouldn't care?"

"No of course I would. I'd be really mad, but it wouldn't be the end of the world." I told him that he better not ever do that to me or else the trust in our relationship would be broken.

The worst kind of cheating to me though is emotional cheating. If they did it once, never again, you could forgive them. But to find out that they'd been having a continuous affair with the same person, that they actually cared about them? Heartbreaking.

What's your stance?

I came on here to post a blog, but promptly forgot what I was going to write about.

A Right to Happiness

My friend recently got into a relationship with a 29 year old man who lives in Australia. She is so happy with him, despite the age gap (she being just 19), that she is seriously considering moving to Australia next year to live with him.

Everyone is worried about the relationship, with him being so much older than her, settled into his life and obviously the distance between him. A lot of people have been trying to talk her out of such a relationship, encouraging her to find someone her own age and perhaps closer to home. I'm not going to deny that I too am worried about it. I worry that if she drops everything and move to Australia, something will go horribly wrong and she'll be all alone with no support.

Then I realised, who are we to impede on her happiness? She told me that she's never been so happy, and although at the moment the distance is annoying, she gets to go to Australia every holidays to see him, and he frequently flies over here (originally being a kiwi himself). If she's happy, why should we try and stop her? I've decided that I'll support her in what she wants to do, but I'm encouraging her to take it slow and not to rush into anything, which she has agreed - she too knows the risks.

She's not very happy in her flat, and I'd love to live with her next year, so I told her not to worry if she thinks moving to Australia is her only option, because it's not. She's well aware that every time they see each other, they're in holiday mode, and so she's planning on spending the summer over the ditch before she makes any decisions.

At the end of the day, I just want her to be happy, and if that happiness will come to her by moving to Australia, then good for her. I'll be here for her whether she moves or stays.

To Chop or Not to Chop?

For the past year, I've grown my hair own from a very short, Rihanna style haircut. However, now I'm thinking about chopping it all off again. This is my problem, I get sick of it short, but by the time I've grown it out again, I'm ready to get rid of it.

So, to chop or not to chop?

13 Year Old Boys

It's holidays at the moment - although with two assignments and a test to study for, it's hardly the holidays - and for the past week, I've been staying at Jake's because we were the only ones in each of our flats not returning home, so it made sense to combine for food and such. His little brother was also coming to stay, and he thought it would be cool if we could all hang out.

His little brother is 13. And was pretty darn annoying. He didn't help with the dishes, didn't even offer to help. Mostly, he played PlayStation. In fact, all he did was play PlayStation. I managed to get him to watch the news at 6 and then Family Guy, but after that, it was back to PlayStation. And then some more.

He'd get up early just to play it. Jake woke up early one morning to find him playing it. He sent him back to bed, where he promptly fell asleep for another couple of hours. Then he got up. And played some more.

Crazy.

I don't understand 13 year old boys.

It's not so much my lack of inspiration for this blog that's preventing me from posting, it's a lack of time. Work, uni, friends... it's all taking it's toll on this blog. Bare with me.