Motorbike - I hate you

So let's recap on this motorbike situation.
I passed my CBT just before Christmas. Beginning of February I buy a bike. Pay for repairs around March. Physically get the bike about three weeks ago. After having it a week get a flat tyre - have to pay to fix it, get it back end of that week. Not even a week after that I slip in the rain on a roundabout. This was last Tuesday. I leave my bike there - I thought there wasn't any damage. Am taken up the hospital because of my knee - which is healing pretty well now. Thursday I went to pick it up, look it over, try to ride it, something is up with the steering and the headlight is hanging onto the front of it. Take it to a garage on the Saturday. Today I am told it is going to cost more than twice the amount of money that I have to fix it. Being unable to fix it means I can't get to college for the rest of the term. And that means that I won't be able to continue my course. It also means that I may be homeless again because the main reason I was allowed to stay with the people I live with at the moment was because I had the bike and therefore able to get about and get to college etc.
I had such a short period of time - only about a week - where everything seemed to be going alright and sorting itself out. It's so cruel of the world to let me think that and then take it away again so soon.
I can feel all the pressure of everything - from the last couple of months and the last week just rush back up and hit me straight in the chest. I don't know how to deal with it right now.
I feel like I just want to get away.
I don't want to be here - and I don't want anything else bad to be happening to me. I think, right now, if something does, I might break completely. I don't want to be that broken girl again - not anymore. Everything was going so well.
I thought 18 was going to be my year.
I really did.

Flesh and Blood

Snow covered branches stretch across the pink-blue stain of sky, their leafless glory barely quivering in the October breezes. Puffy grey-white clouds drift smoothly past the firmly planted silhouette of magnificent tree. The snow-spattered grass glows cerise and the sky is painted a thousand fiery shades as the sun rises anew from the east.

A tiny rabbit lifts its head from an unknown source in the grass, her little nose red from the cold and azure eyes wide with wonder. The baby rabbit shifts her head and explores her surroundings without moving from her position. Her beauty we see, yet he does not. With her innocent face staring into you, she never sees the bullet coming. Brief yet thunderous was the rabbit’s death; the pale snow is now dipped in a vibrant red.

From behind the tree came the figure. Stunted though sturdy, he marches toward the pest. At this angle you can barely see the boy lifting its head, and exploring the bullet hole with his fingers; as if to ensure her death. The mutilated brains slip out. The boy leaves the remnants upon the snow for another creature to devour, should it wish to. The boy strides away. Away from you. Away from the defiled beauty of the scene. Away, he strides, his grip skin-tight around her feet, he begins dragging it limply behind him.

One by one, infantile flies congregate on the brains, feasting upon the bloody mass. They routinely throw up on it, stomp on it, and suck up the disgusting bouillabaisse of slowly rotting matter. They lay their eggs upon the surface, so their young may join them.

Meanwhile, the rabbit-like beast is dumped down on the kitchen floor, the thump causing its dead, glassy eyes to bulge sickly. The boy kneels beside it and rams a knife through, turning his face away. He rolls the head to the rabid dogs, for what do they care should they discover a bullet among the mass of brains. They joyfully lap up their treat.

The boy sits with an identical thump at the table, pulling at his balaclava to come off, and whacking his head in his hands. His shoulders begin to shake, and though you can only see his back from the kitchen window, you can tell it’s not from laughter. You feel pity for him.

The dogs finish their breakfast whilst the boy stays silently at the table. Their visible ribs are proof that they will still be hungry. Yipping happily and beginning to devour the rest of the body is justified. The boy fails to notice them to begin with, but when he does a few minutes after, he bellows until the dogs stop and stare at him. He chases them from the room with anger in his eyes, and locks them within the rest of the house. The boy slides back down to the body on the floor. His eyes are red-edged, and there’s no trace of a smile upon his red lips. One side of his face has the pink puckered skin, which can only be acquired after a burn injury has healed. He curls up next to the body, that side of his face resting where the dogs had begun to rip into it. The blood seeps into his clothing, and coagulates on his skin.

You watch him for a while, knowing that though his eyes are closed, he is not asleep. You've been following him for weeks. You've seen his vacant expression. You need him to still be the same boy, though you can see changes within him. Regardless, your hands are tied, and you smash your fist through the window.

Upon hearing the impact, the dogs immediately react and frantically scratch to get back into the kitchen. Their fear for their new master’s safety can be heard in their pathetic, incensed cries. The boy’s eyes flash open, but he doesn't flinch. He sees you climbing through the window, landing with a thump, yet he doesn't reveal signs of getting up. He looks exhausted, you note.

Through the kitchen door come the men you requested and you lift the boy in your arms. Half of his face is covered in red, and the other whiter than the snow outside. As you carry the boy to the van, the men begin to retch and heave at the spectacle in the kitchen. The floor resembles the interior of an unhealthy, clotted artery, and the mouldy food on plates contains multiple new organisms. The stench is unbearable, though they manage to ensconce the body into a big black bag, zip it, and have it carried away to a mortuary. As you carry the deprived and defenseless boy into the back of the van, you talk to him softly.

Once inside the van, the driver sets off immediately for civilisation. You've barely managed to set the boy down before you are speeding away, the door still open as you begin along the dirt track. You lie him down and check his pulse - slow, and his blood pressure - low. He looks at you with questioning bloodshot eyes, so you wrap him in your arms and tell him what he has done.

He watches your lips as you speak, and the similarities are noticeable. The same deep blue eyes. The same jutting jaw line. The same soft tones of speech. He evaluates your appearance as the remembrance flickers through his eyes; his poignant, gloomy eyes. He remembers the fire. The fire that ruptured within the city; the fire he thought had eradicated his parents. In his eyes you can see the boy and his sister drifting out of the city, finding an abandoned house, living for years undetected.

Your son is so flimsy. You can barely feel him laid against you. You stare into his vacant blue eyes, searching for a shadow of humanity. You find nothing. Even as he realises the rabbit to be a hallucination, there is no remorse in his eyes. Even as he realises his little sister, whom he was supposed to protect, is now headless, cut open by dogs. His little sister now lay dead, upon the marble mortuary slab. Your son drops from your arms, as he slides out of the van to the dirt track. Nothing but a sack of flesh and blood.

Birthday, Bikes and Blood.

So like a week after actually getting my bike I typically with my luck ran over a big ass nail in the ground and got a flat tyre.
That's just me.
But it didn't cost anywhere near as much as I thought to fix it (:
Whilst I was in the bike shop I had a look at the helmets because I've been trying to save up to buy one but they're expensive and the past few months means I haven't been able to yet..
What I found is that I need an extra small, or an extra extra small. because I have a tiny head! All the extra smalls i tried on where too big, however it depends on the make. They guy is gonna order a few in that could fit me and let me try them on before I buy one. There was talk at one point of getting me a children's one. Good thing they don't typically come with a sun visor. Which I need with a helmet because otherwise I can't see in the sunny weather ( that's a funny.. cause I'm in Britain.. where it's always rainy.. never mind.)
When I had a look at my current helmet, I realised that it is actually a medium and that my helmet buying really needs to be my top priority at the moment.

My birthday was great, went for a meal the day before with family, spent the actual day riding my bike around for a bit, met the boyf, went into town and bought my first drink, his mum bought us Chinese which was lovely of her. (Chinese food, not just a little Chinese kid. Damn I wish it was a Chinese kid now.)
Me and boyf went and bought a cigar then, because there's not many other things you can actually then do when you're 18.. buying cigarettes was a no because I've given up ):
Didn't want a party because it's too much hassle.
Me and the boyf spent most of the rest of the day watching films  and hanging out really. Was just the relaxing day I had wanted.

I'm giving blood next week
That should be fun.. I really want to know what blood group I am.
They give you free snacks.
They're free.

Hello?

So it has been a couple of months..
Though nothing particularly good has happened, and I've been more stressed and worried about things than I ever have before; I am very happy and there is no explanation as to why.
Recap of the past couple of months -
had to find a new place to live - had nowhere for a little while and then was placed with a host family, told for a maximum of four weeks. Constantly looking for a flat in between.. blaghblaghblagh...
I'm only under the care of social services, and therefore the host family, until I turn 18.
HOWEVER,
because I am the most awesome person in the world
(AS YOU ALL KNOW)
My host family have said that I can continue living with them after I turn 18, as something called supported lodging..
I'm so glad because I don't want to be living on my own in a flat yet. I want support until I feel that I can live on my own, and without the help of  benefits. I've been looking for a job for so long though.
I am also on a waiting list for another supported housing place.
I went to see P!nk a couple of weeks ago - was a great gig, but the weekend in general was shit- most of you know what happened. I don't want to explain it all on here because, well, whatever I say will be perceived as bitchy.. but whatever.
I didn't get to go and see Killswitch Engage like I wanted to ):
Have still got that boyfriend.. He's alright (;
AND, today I should be going and picking up my bike. Five months after I took my CBT. (almost three months since I bought the insurance too)
But better late than never.

I really haven't wanted to write in here for a while, but a few weeks ago I was thinking about it, and I went and  checked my page for the first time since my last post, and I realised that even though I haven't posted in nearly two months, especially not posting it to facebook, loads of people still check it regularly.
Confidence boost :D

Have no idea if I'll keep posting




OH, and did I mention that it is my 18th this Monday?

Thankyou

I haven't posted in two weeks.

This is because I've had a lot going on, and haven't managed to get my thoughts in order in my head let alone outside of it. It has been difficult, and still very much is.
What has happened in these past two weeks is that I have been made homeless. Again. 

Anyone who knows me or knew me this time last year knows that I was homeless this time last year too.

It's so difficult going back to not having all of my belongings around me and in a place I can go back to after a day of college.

My ex landlords were awful people.

Nver ever trust people who have money or pretend like they have money.

They will screw you over.

They will give you one eviction date, then lie about tenancy agreements and kick you out in a week. Without reason (what it was was that I told them that I do have rights and they couldn't just walk in on me in any room in the house, even though it is their house, because I pay rent to have the right to my own privacy, and they really didn't like that I knew they couldn't do this)

These people broke the law. I'm not going to do anything about it, because I don't want to ruin their lives like they ruined mine, but if they keep threatening me with money and court ( I paid it back - there's no way to prove I have paid it back, but there's also no proof that they even lent it to me, so there's no way they can get more money off me just because they're in debt) Yeah, if they keep threatening me I'm just  going to pull that out,show how they've broken the law, and screw them straight the hell back over.

Cause if they want to push me more, then I will snap and stand up for myself.

So I'm back to being homeless. I went to the council and social services have been made aware. Good thing I've been in their care before (y/n?) cause it means they can just pull out a file on me rather than  make a new one.

They were supposed to find me somewhere for Saturday (my second eviction date) however they didn't, So I was told I would have something today. But no. They've said there will be something for me tomorrow... I am reeaally doubting it.

Good thing I have friends this year around.

They've all been great, putting up with me being stressed at the moment, and by allowing me to crash on their sofas, and cheering me up. I  am forever grateful to those who are there for me.

I don't even...

Things keep going downhill.
I haven't stopped crying in hours now. I just came back from a run. And I still haven't stopped. It's too cold outside. It's snowing. It reminds me of the times I've had to stay outside when it was snowing. And how cold I got.
Everyone in my life turns out to be a terrible person. I'm surprised I don't yet expect everyone to be awful to me all the time. I still have hope that people have good in them. I guess that's good. It means one day, I might meet someone who isn't going to screw me over.
I'm in a stage where I'm thinking, if the world throws one more thing at me, I'm going to give up; I give myself permission to. But the world throws something and I feel like I need something else before I can give up.
So that's good.
I'm not giving up.
I don't have the capacity to let people down by giving up.
I'm gonna keep fighting, but we know it's not for me.



If you know of somewhere, preferably salisbury, where I can rent a room, please, get in contact with me asap.

Rant?

I love it when I see that people have checked my blog when I haven't pestered anyone to, and I haven't even done a post. A lot of people did yesterday. Haven't done a post in a week agaaain.

This is just a quick one anyway.

To bitch that I always hear people have been saying things about me (that aren't true, or have been twisted)

But no one will ever say these things to my face.

It's damn annoying.

If people have so much to say about me (which apparently they do) why the hell don't they just ask me if any of it is true, or bitch to my face?Well, the simple answer is that they're idiots. The slightly longer is that they don't want to find that what they have heard is wrong because it's juicy gossip. And of course, people must know that when they do accuse me of untrue things, and I then hear about it from a string of people, that I would like to punch them in the face, and obviously they won't say these things right to me because they know that I will.

Well, okay, I don't have the actual heart to punch someone, even if I really want to hit someone, I'm always scared of hurting them. But I will defend myself, cause I'm not taking shit from people anymore.

I really honestly don't mind when someone has heard something about me and want to ask me if what they've heard is true, I don't mind putting them straight. But it's when they just automatically believe it. That gets to me.

Anyone who knows me will automatically know that those things aren't true anyway. I don't have the capacity to do those things.

But, to be honest, I guess it's okay to have people bitching about me. Know why?

Because I'm happy.

Even if people will believe twisted truths and downright lies, that doesn't affect that I'm really happy.

And I wouldn't be half as happy as I am if I hadn't felt the true sadness's that I have felt in previous years.

So this is just a big 'Fuck you' to twats who can't keep out of other people's businesses.

(: