Aesthetic Chaos

Hey all, Long time. No speak. I've been too busy swealtering in this heat and trying to inject ice cream into my veins in the hopes that it will cool me down and make me appear cool and inviting to any possible future relationships. Hope you haven't missed my ramblings too much. Everybody past 20 should have experienced a first love by now, and let me know if you've been through the same feelings because it's both a sunset and a sandstorm and you can't have one without the other. Much like ice cream and jelly at a kids party when you were six... Jesus I need to just go and get some ice cream so I'll stop writing about it. Ice cream. Mmm. Firstly, love is an addiction. My mum warned me about drugs on the street but never the ones with two eyes a smile and a heartbeat. I was lured in. A false sense of security. They become your life jacket in the most fucking horrendous storms, Without them you cannot breathe. The

Why do people say the phrase 'I lost them' when someone passes away? You didn't loose them down the back of the fruit and veg aisle did you?!  Such a weird phrase to label it when someone dies. But here I am writing a blog post on 'losing you' so. Fuck it. The pain that surged through me when I saw you take your last breath and I felt your fingers slowly release grip with my hand was similar to my skin being ripped from the quick of your nail and being peeled back snapping tendons and veins by virtuously plucking them out one by one. Exposing my raw flesh to the agonising emotion of my heart freezing and crystallising over then shattering into a million shards all over the hospital floor as I screamed with every natural instinct within me for you to stay and 'don't leave me'. The sound that came from within me was like a roar, a real earthy sound that escaped my chest trying to pull her beautiful soul back down to earth before she was taken

 I think everybody has something that ticks off a bomb in their head that sends a marching band of bright flashing lights and loud crashing noises that point to a gigantic sign in your head that screams... 'IM CRAZY!' Whether that bomb is... Road rage A boyfriend A girlfriend Parents Or your nan flashing her M&S knickers to the milkman. (Again) Mine? Mine is a beast. A cruel, sticky, grotesque beast. Who threw all his baggage into his case and rammed it into my brain on a whim. Following the days after my mum got diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. You lot may know him by his 007 agent name: DEPRESSION. But I prefer to call him Jim. Jim is a cock. Me and him DONT get on. He thinks that it's beyond hilarious to send surges of waves 'just when I'm feeling on top of the world' to tear me down from my golden tower and leave me drowning, gasping for air whilst his cruel razored claws scratch and scar my lungs leaving them raw to the sting of th

Hello you cheeky lot! Then again... If this is just 40 year old fragile me peering through feeling nostalgic then I guess... hello... you cheeky... weirdo? Anybody who has had the strangest pleasure to meet me will be bored by the fact that I have CF... Cunt Fuck syndrome.... Only joking (kinda)  CF stands for - Cystic Fibrosis. In short... A lung disease that also affects the digestive system and any other possible organs it can wrap its sticky cyst ridden claws around. I mean, for christs sake. Of all the things I could be shit at it had to be bloody breathing didn't it? Just about the one key element to be able to exist. Brilliant. Fab. Whizzer. Also the fact that my life expectancy is between 30-40years old (here's the inside joke I mentioned earlier) would mean that really I should have been... Married by 7. Had kids by 11. Installed by mid-life grape fuelled crisis at 20. ... and be happily retired and drinking pina coladas whi

So... How do I even start this? Welcome to my life through crisp black and white text. I guess. Where you can read and imagine what it's like to peer through the indescribable mess of Pandora's box that mimicks my life. I'm a 24 year old British girl with the ability to inject sarcasm and witty humour into every socially acceptable human interaction I can grasp onto. Okay, okay... perhaps I am being incredibly generous with the term ' witty humour ', perhaps being a complete and utter nerd under all this facade is appearing more and more realistic as time ticks on by. I've been contemplating creating a blog for some time and have finally consumed enough sugar ridden items to fuel this ludicrous idea. This blog will contain my ever increasingly hopeless attempt at life as a young 20 something, independent girl with nothing to loose and a worrying love of chicken. I'll talk about my physical health, mental health, love, loss and throw in the o