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Life According to Nobody

Relationships are hard. When you truly love someone, you'd do anything in your power to make them happy. I recently moved out of my parents home and into a flat on my own in the big city. Don't get me wrong, I love it here. I can do what I want, whenever I want. I'm surrounded by my friends and my boyfriend works just around the corner so I cna see him all the time.
I know I'm going to sound like a whiney bitch who's never happy but I've noticed that the high I'd been riding on all of summer is beginning to plummet and I can feel myself sinking into the all too familiar slump of emptiness. Now, before I say anything more, there are a few things I need to point out.


1. I'm in a happy, loving relationship. The way I feel about him has not changed in the slightest. He still makes me unbelievably happy and I would do anything for him.

2. I am in no way self-diagnosing myself with depression or anything like that. I'm happy. Just a little sad-happy, if you understand.

I've been in Australia for 14 days now. I really want to be full of wanderlust but I just seem to have come to the conclusion that I'm too happy at home to go off exploring new countries. Don't get me wrong , nothing fascinates me more than learning about new cultures but I just don't want to be anywhere but home right now. I miss the comfort of my own bed and the arms of my boy. I'm not ungrateful to my mum for flying me to the other side of the world to see her and explore new places and see new things. I love it here. Brisbane's a beautiful city full of exciting people and wonderful places. But being here makes me a little sad. Maybe more than a little actually. I wish I could share this experience with the man I love. A little piece of me feels like it's missing and I can't truly enjoy all the wonderful opportunities I'm being given here.

25 days 💫
A photo posted by Carrie MacNeill (@carriemac97) on Nov 6, 2016 at 10:39am PST


 
[Warning: this ones about to get real soppy and gross and omg please don't read it I'm disgusting.]So let me explain something. First off, it's 3.15am so I can't be held responsible for the things that come out of my mouth. It's the witching hour and this is when all my worst word babies form. I doubt this is worth anyone's time to read and I really feel like I'll regret this in the morning and never want anyone to see the ridiculous things that make their way out of my brain at this hour but fuck it.(I'm writing this to a specific person. Everyone else is welcome to jump on the band wagon and think I'm mental but hey ho)I fall in love with you a little bit more every day. I grew up watching movies where the prince would sweep the girl off her feet and she'd be so madly and deeply in love with him and they'd live happily ever after forever. Not every boy is a prince and not every boy is capable of sweeping girls off their feet. Me especially, I ain't light. Love isn't perfect. It's like water. It ebbs and flows. But let me tell you something I'm learning. Not every second of a relationship is perfect but when the relationship is good, the great moments outshine the nagging and the awkward parts where you bump teeth or make some horrendous noise. When I think about my relationship, I think of all the good things he does. They way he makes me feel special and treats me like his princess. I don't care about the little arguments. Most of the time, I can't even remember what they're about. I'm not perfect and my relationship isn't perfect. But my man is perfect for me and in the end, that's all that really matters.
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There’s something about driving through the mountains that makes me feel calm. Looking out the window at a sheer face doesn’t scare me or make me feel claustrophobic like most people. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve spent so much of my life surrounded by them or because of the extra oxygen from all the plants on them or whatever but I just feel lighter and more relaxed in the mountains. There’s an hour and a half car journey between or apartment and the airport here in Turkey. Most of it is through the mountains and these journeys are some of the most peaceful memories I have. I think about so many things in this minibus.

I’ve been doing this journey for years and year and, over the last few years, I’ve unplugged from the world. I pop in my headphones and watch out the window as the trees and the mountains disappear behind me into the horizon. Two years ago, when I loved a boy for the first time, it was this car journey that helped me realise that. I had Ed Sheeran’s album on blasting out the noise of my parents’ idle chatter and I just thought. I knew he was special. He was the only one who could make me smile when I was down, it was him I turned to when I wanted to chat. He was my world. But I had to leave him behind. Not a lot of people understood the relationship we had. Some people thought we were dating, most people just shipped us really hard. I don’t really know how to describe what we had but I know that some of my happiest memories ever are with that boy. I’m going to get cliché here and tell you that you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone. I didn’t appreciate how much I loved that boy until I was on an airplane leaving him forever.
This story has a happy ending, you’ll be glad to hear. Although I lost contact with most of my friends from Canada, there’s one person I still talk to almost every single day. My first live has turned in to my dearest friend. Even know, I’d do anything for him and we talk as if we haven’t been apart for a minute. That’s the kind of friendships you need. Make friends for a lifetime. Although I do still love him with all my heart, it’s a different kind of love. It’s not boyfriend love, but it’s not brother love either. He’s like an extension of me. Everything I do, he has to know about. We update each other on the most mundane things but it’s still so interesting for each other. I know I didn’t need to write this to tell him how much I care about him because he knows it already. He’s still my world and I can’t wait to spend New Year’s with him, making new memories to add to our collection.

On this particular bus ride, I’m looking forward, not back. Both literally and figuratively. I must admit, it’s a little more scary. The mountains grow from tiny lumps to giants, looming way over my head. I have so much to look forward to. I’ve finally got the freedom I’ve dreamed of for so many years and I have so many ideas zooming through my head as to what I want to do with it. I’m taking the big step and moving out. I have a gorgeous new love that makes me laugh and makes me feel pretty and who looks after me (there may be more about him coming soon). Instead of reminiscing on what I had, I can look forward to what I have now too. A new city, a new life and a new me. It’s now time for me to make my own home. I’ve blossomed into an individual with my own thoughts, opinions and feelings and I’m anxious to get out there and do.

I feel like myself again, after being lost for so long. Some people may think I’ve changed or I’m acting strange but please, you have to believe me. I’m me now. The mopey, self-centred, angst teenager you all knew (and possibly loved) is gone and I’m a new woman. I’m at home in my own body. I have a strong vision of what I want to do with my future now and, at the end of this single, 90 minute bus journey, the rest of my life begins. Wish me luck! 


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By now, you should all know that I'm a quiet person.My last post was all about my lack of participation on conversations. I seem to have made myself out to be a little bit of a moaner. That's probably true. There's always something i could have a good winge about. But that's not all I am.

I'm a worry guts. The people I love the most mean so much to me. I like to think I know these people fairly well. I've not got a large group of friends, but the friendships I do have have bonds as strong as steel. I really get to know people and grow so attached to them that it hurts me to see them upset. I have a strong sense of empathy, I know when they're down and I would do anything to cheer them up.

But sometimes they can't be cheered up. Either, I'm the one upsetting them, intentionally or otherwise. Or something has happened to them that I can't affect. I would take a bullet for some of the people I'm closest too, but the feeling of helplessness I get when I see them struggling with grief or illness or family issues breaks my heart. I want them to tell me what I can do to make it better but oftentimes, there's nothing. Some people don't like opening up and talking about things that are getting them down. That's understandable, but it hurts me so much to see them change mood so quickly without any warning or explanation. I can't expect everyone to tell me everything that's on my mind.

I just want those people to know how much I love them. Some people, myself included, try to be strong and proud and not ask for help. They struggle through their problems, hiding them from the world to try and brush them under the carpet. But I know from experience how that turns out. During my angsty teenage years, I closed myself off from everybody. As my problems built up, I got more and more stressed, more and more introverted, more and more upset. After years of not talking to anyone about what was upsetting me, boys, family issues, academic stress all swimming about in my head driving me crazy, I exploded. I blew my top at my friends and family. Friends withdrew from me, not wanting anything to do with the girl who had screamed at them over nothing. My family actually wanted to get me psychological help. I'd gone from this quiet, reserved girl to an absolute monster. I would slam doors, scream and shout, ignore them, cry. I lost a grip on reality for a time, swimming about in this seemingly bottomless pit of anger.

Because I refused to talk about what upset me for all those years, I still feel the residual effects. I'm sarcastic, I avoid confrontation and the friends and family who stuck by me through the dark times still give me the odd worried look when I get stressed. I've lost faith in myself and my ability to deal with stress. I don't feel comfortable talking about my feelings with most people.

I wish to make a plea to each and every one of you reading this. If any of you ever feel like you're falling into the same hole I've described, GET HELP. There's no easy solution, but I would hate for any of you to go through what I did. I am always here to listen to anything that any of you need to get of your chest. Even if it's me that's bothering you. Tell me, I want to help. I love you all and I want to look after you when I can. Take care of yourselves.


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I'm a bit of a loner. I don't really enjoy the company of lots of people. I'm at my happiest when I'm all on my own, laptop in hand or a good book (currently Game of Thrones. My god. It's amazing. Post to come.). For the last 2 years, I've been at a boarding school where I could disappear for a few hours, get away from society and do my own thing, ALONE. I didn't feel left out or anything, I just prefer my own company.

I get exhausted trying to make small talk to people for hours on end. I really hate it when you sit with someone and they tell you the same story over and over and over again because they'd rather hear the sound of their own voice than some peace and quiet. My boyfriend and I were discussing this the other day and he told me he didn't feel uncomfortable when neither of us were talking. I hadn't realised it up until that point but, looking back on it, I hadn't realised how often we end up sitting in silence. It's not that we have nothing to talk about. We are just able to enjoy each other's company without constantly filling the air with pointless noise.

 I'm used to not taking part in conversations. I keep quiet and listen. Not because I don't have anything to add or because I feel uncomfortable around people. I just don't feel the need to be constantly engaged in conversation. I don't feel uncomfortable sitting quietly with somebody, enjoying their company without having to endure their conversation.

Maybe there's something wrong with the wiring in my brain that causes me to lack the need for communication with others. Maybe the people I spend time with just have too much to say. Either way, I find myself getting wound up by spending long periods of time with some people in my life. I don't blame them, (well I do at the time). It's not necessarily their fault. My family have grown up surrounded by lots of people, being taught that it's polite to make small talk and keep a conversation going.

The whole stigma surrounding "awkward silences" drives me crazy. I believe that there's a great comfort that comes from silence. The people I feel happiest with, I can sit alone with, sharing our thoughts. But most importantly, having thoughts. I struggle to comprehend how people are able to keep conversations going for hours on end. I take time to think things through. I can't come up with immediate responses to the 100 questions that are thrown in my direction during a conversation with my mother.

Don't get me wrong, I can be a grumpy cow. I snap at people when I'm tired or hungry. I'm no model citizen but nothing frustrates me more than somebody trying to spark up  conversation with me when I'm trying to read. I went out to sit alone on the balcony and read my book today. My aunt appeared at the balcony door (they had been out on the balcony on the other side of the house) and asked me why I was sat on my own when they were all out having a chat. I told her I just wanted some peace and quiet to read so she decided to round everyone up and bring them out on to the balcony beside me. Peace shattered.

I think it must be quite frustrating for people who talk all the time to spend time with me. I sit in silence, without even acknowledging people as they come and go. I know it's rude. Small talk is just part of the basic manners that your parents teach you when you're little. Chew with your mouth closed, say please and thank you, never sit in silence.

I'd like to make a request to those of you who spend time with me on a regular basis. Please believe me when I say that I don't intend to be rude. I'm not ignoring you and I'm not in a bad mood. Sometimes I just need some quiet time. I don't hate you, you probably haven't done anything wrong. I dont want you to take offence to this, but I enjoy my company more than yours. There's only one person that I'd be happy to be with 24 hours a day. Just like me, he enjoys the quiet.

When he was here with me, we would float side by side in the pool, each of us reading. Together but not talking. Just being with each other. I never thought I could spend so much time exclusively with one person without them driving me up the wall. I've never enjoyed being around anyone before. I normally endure people until I can find a reason to escape. Things have changed now. Instead of dreaming of getting away from everyone to be alone, I dream of running away to him.

The boy has changed me. SOS I need help. I'm going soft. I'm a bloody marshmallow.
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I don't believe in a god. I don't believe in karma or some supernatural force controlling the universe and everything in it. I believe that I am a human being, surrounded by billions of other human beings just like me. We're born, all with the same amount, our skin and bones. This proves problematic in my writing. I struggle to attribute 'luck' to my protagonists because I don't believe in such a thing.

I do, however, believe in the power of effort. Think of Oprah Winfrey. She was born into an underprivileged community, with little hope of excelling as an African-American woman in the deep south. She worked hard, earning herself a scholarship into Tennessee State University and going on to become the first black American TV correspondent. She didn't get all that from crossing her fingers and hoping real hard. She put in a hard graft and is now worth billions of dollars. That's right. Billions. Now, if you're seeing dollar signs right now, just hold up a second. 

There's no easy way of getting round the hard work. It's not like you can type in to google 'How to become a billionaire without working' and discover some coveted list of steps to earning your riches overnight. Just like all those crazy weight loss schemes you see in magazines, IT'S A SCAM.

Now, I don't want to shit on people's religious beliefs or cultures, but I strongly disagree with relying on these principles to get you what you want. I completely respect those who follow religious codes concerning morality and the such, but when it gets to the point where you're walking around with a severed rabbit's foot around your neck or celebrating when a bird takes a dump on you, I really believe you've taken it too far. 

No-one is 'destined' to do anything. As the daughter of an engineer, I was told I was 'destined' to have a scientific mind. Here I am, applying for degrees in English Literature and laughing in the face of destiny. We're all born equal, the only that that raises us or lowers us in that hierarchy is our own ambition, actions and effort. Don't let others dictate your future to you and never ever take anything for granted.

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I READ A BOOK


Now, as a future English Literature major, this shouldn't be as remarkable as it is. I've talked on here before about my lack of drive to read as I went through high school. But I did it. I got back in to reading and my eyes have been opened to the absolute joy that is escaping from my dull, mundane life into the exploits of characters and other people.

Now, if you're planning on getting back in to treading after taking what feels like a life-long break, may I strongly suggest you don't start it with non-fiction. Non-fiction is renowned for being dull and boring and factual and an absolute drag and why, when trying to convince yourself to read again, would you start with that? In saying this, the first book I read when I started reading again was non-fiction. I know, I know, I read the previous sentence too. Bear with me.


Let me introduce you to Dr. Henry Marsh. He is the 'leading British neurosurgeon, and a pioneer of neurosurgical advances in Ukraine' and, in my opinion, a little bit of a hero. He wrote a book called Do No Harm about his life, his career and, most interestingly, the human brain.

Now, as a little kid, I'd always dreamed of being a doctor. I think most of us do at some point, but as I grew up I began to realised that dream was little more than and idle fantasy. The human body has always fascinated me but I just didn't have the brains or the dedication to pursue a career in medicine. Also the blood *shiver*.

But Mr. Marsh really managed to grasp my attention. He describes complex neurological phenomena with ease and slips in endearing anecdotes about his family and his patients at the same time. The doctor opens our eyes to the political struggle between management and medical staff in hospitals, the painful experiences bot patients and consultants must go through in their medical lifetimes and simultaneously leaves us in awe of the work him and his colleagues do, working on the most fragile, complicated organ in our body.

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About Me

About Me
I'm a twenty-something English and Philosophy Student bumbling through life, throwing words into the void

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