Hello fellow bloggers!
It has been a long year since my last post and with very good reason. I began to study Psychology at Bangor University and also have become the new co-ordinator for RAG which is a student fundraising team. Such a busy and fantastic year which I will post about very soon.
This post is here to discuss Mind’s #TimeToTalk campaign. This is an amazing opportunity for everyone to share their story and experience to both help themselves and help other people. My story may not be the best written but without writing about details it is difficult for me to express it and I could literally type for hours about this…
So here is my (slightly ranty and un-organised) story…
I have never been massively outgoing. As a teenager I was a complete introvert and still was a bit nervous due to experiences when I was young yet I still had confidence and even ended up in Japan living with a family who I didn’t know and didn’t speak the same language. That took a lot of confidence to deal with and was a huge deal for me. Amazing time.
However, when I was sixteen I experienced some serious hardships. I was forced into working and paying bills and debts and looking after family members. As a sixteen year old, fresh out of school, this was a huge shock to the system. I don’t want to go into a huge amount of detail but times were hard. They got worse. When I was 21, however, times became less stressful and slowly started to get better.
That is the basics of my story. Now is the main issue…. Anxiety (and depression) which ruined my life.
The first time I spoke up about it was when I was 17. I was sat in bed one night, unable to sleep again, when I started to shake and the room was spinning. Breathing became difficult and for what seemed like forever I was curled up in bed thinking I was going to die. As I felt better I went to talk to the mother who was very supportive. We discussed how I was feeling depressed and how things were too much for me so I contacted the doctor. They prescribed me Citalopram and counselling. The counselling lasted one session because I didn’t feel comfortable talking to the man. The Citalopram lasted for 2 years. They did not help at all. If anything for a while I felt worse and even though I had good support it just wasn’t enough. Eventually I weaned myself off them with the advice of the doctor (against their suggestions) and entered autopilot. I have very little memory of the years following…
suicide, self-loathing and binging
However, recently I made the decision to go back to education. It has been 10 years since I left school and I was finally in a place I could manage to work towards what I want. This forced me to focus more on how I felt though. Through presentations and being surrounded by younger students it quickly became very tough and my anxiety reared its ugly head through the form of panic attacks and some severe physical issues such as shaking and not being able to breathe properly.
I returned to the doctors because these issues were stopping me from attending college and things were beginning to spiral. They prescribed me Sertraline and Propranolol this time and I am still currently taking them over a year later. Throughout university this year I have gradually seen a massive change in both my confidence and mental health. I am not depressed now, at least not so much. The anxiety is still there which is very difficult at times but the panic attacks have stopped. My confidence has grown in leaps; I have never been happier and can see things getting so much better!
My advice to anybody who suffers with anxiety and any other form of mental health issue is to seek advice even though it may seem like nothing in the world can help or that things will never get better.
It gets better.
Hi guys! Thought I would provide you all with a quick update to my current situation.
Some of you may have seen this post regarding my increasingly frustrating university application issues. If you haven’t read it I suggest you do because you will be able to see why I’ve had a huge headache for about a month.
I am very happy to say that I have now resolved these issues! Super happy! I am now accepted through UCAS and have been assigned a room in the halls I chose for my second choice and it is top floor (apparently) which is pretty cool. I have lots to sort out now so posting may be a little slow for a little while but the 30 day challenge is finished and I will be posting a lot once I move to university with pictures and updates.
September 23rd I shall be a resident at Bangor University in Wales! Hooray!
This is my entry for day thirty of the thirty day writing challenge. I can’t believe we made it! The end of the 30 day writing challenge! Thank you to everyone who has taken an interest I really appreciate it! If you wish to know where I get the prompts from feel free to comment or message and I will get back to you
The prompt for day thirty is:
“Your character believes in love in first sight. In fact, your character believes he
or she has actually fallen in love with someone he or she has only seen in a
photograph. Your character makes up his or mind to marry this person….”
I didn’t want to take part in another pta meeting. They are boring and annoying and never achieve anything – ever! But, like a good sheep I went along with the process and supported my daughter in her education. Now, don’t get me wrong! I love my daughter and would die for her but school always sucked for me and in her last school I learnt to hate the teachers very quickly. This new school wasn’t going to be any different, I knew that.
Sitting quietly, listening to the dull and monotonous tone of Mr Pearce, I wondered how bored Tash got when she was in this class. She always landed fairly solid grades so it must not be as bad as I was thinking but he really needed to learn to speak a little more on the lively side. My eyes dropped as the tweed-clad man droned on about some form of grammar or another. Suddenly I fell, or to be more specific – the arm I was resting my head on fell, off the table and I slammed my feet on the floor with my hands on the desk following quite nicely. All eyes turned to me and I immediately shone a bright red. I looked at the teacher and he laughed a little.
“I see where she gets it from now, Mr Bane!” He grinned as he thought he was getting away with taking a dig at us.
“She gets it from your boring ass speeches!” I retorted, standing up and grabbing my coat.
The room lit up with laughter at the poor man’s expense but I didn’t care. I had been embarrassed in front of a room full of people and I had to get away. Pushing past the tables I slammed the door behind me and Tash was waiting outside. She didn’t ask me how it went, she saw the redness of my face and shook her head in disgrace. She knew.
Storming down the hall we spoke about what happened and she kept sighing as she had a feeling that the teacher was going to make it awkward for her because of my outburst. I told her he deserved it and she surprised me by agreeing but I don’t think she fully understood. We stopped as I ranted to her about how he was completely boring and there was no way I was going back to apologise.
Suddenly, amongst the ranting, something caught my eye. A picture on the wall behind her with someone on it who I had to take a closer look at. I couldn’t help myself, I ignored her completely and walked towards the picture. Placing my hand on the glass and not blinking I think Tash became a little worried. She interrupted me with an explanation as to who was in the photograph.
“That’s Miss… whatsherface… Miss Haze, yeah, that’s it. Why are you looking at her like that?”
I looked at her for a brief moment but my gaze was drawn back to the picture. Overcome by a feeling I hadn’t experienced since I met Tash’s mother. I had to meet her, I had to. The feeling was intense. It was like I knew her and I loved her and it had always been that way. I looked at my daughter and demanded she took me too her right away. She looked at me like I had just murdered our cat or something, confused and scared, but I didn’t care I just followed.
A small way down the hall we arrived at room 143B, the art room. Miss Haze was standing by her desk talking to a room full of people. I decided to wait until she was done before introducing myself. Staring through the window at her beautiful portrait I completely forgot that my daughter was with me.
“Dad!” She yelled, impatiently.
I jumped as she interrupted my gaze and looked at her. Why was she even still here? Did I not tell her to wait in the car? Maybe I imagined it whilst looking at the gorgeous woman I intended to speak with.
“What do you even want with Cassie?” She enquired, a little annoyed at the entire situation.
“You wouldn’t understand,” I said a little bluntly.
She sighed and stormed away to the seats just along beside the lockers and I turned to look inside the room.
So Cassie was her name. Such a majestic name, Cassie Haze. I placed my hand on the glass and imagined how our lives could be together. She turned as the movement of my hand on the glass caught her eye. A smile shone across her face as she lifted her hand to say she would just be one moment. My heart sank. In a moment I would meet the woman I would marry…
This is my entry for day twenty-nine of the thirty day writing challenge. Almost done my friends, almost done. Also, this is a bit crap… but what can you do. I have a headache and you will all soon find out why. If you wish to know where I get the prompts from feel free to comment or message and I will get back to you
The prompt for day twenty-nine is:
“Imagine a house. Draw a quick floorplan of the house on a piece of paper.
Who do you think lives in this house? Imagine the house’s residents. Now, add
a secret room to your floorplan. What’s in the room? Why is it secret? You
decide. Someone is about to discover the secret room. What happens? Write
When I moved into the old manor house on the outskirts of San Francisco, with my son, I never expected there to be so much space. The two of us were cramped in the old place and from my visits here it never seemed to be so big. Two rooms weren’t even being used for a long time and it was only when my partner moved in that they began to be decorated.
My son, Jay, came up with a plan that he believed would suit us all. The deal he came up with was that he could keep a room near his bedroom and we could have the downstairs room. Fair enough I thought as I wasn’t sure what to do with the room upstairs anyway. It took a while to get that room how he wanted but at last he was happy. We installed a home cinema with a few seats set out where he could sit with his friends and watch movies or play games on a gigantic screen. My partner thought that was a little extravagant but the way I see it is, we can afford the luxuries so why the hell not!
Jay never took an interest in the room we kept downstairs. We always made sure the door was locked and we worked on it when he wasn’t home. This was to be our private area; no kids; no work; no life – just us.
We arrived home one rainy evening to find that the house was empty. We called upstairs but there was no response and it seemed like Jay hadn’t been home for hours. We flashed a smile at each other and I looked towards the locked door of our own little sanctuary, biting my lip gently. Who had the key? We suddenly realised that neither of us did. I ran upstairs to look for it in the bedroom while they checked the car.
Ripping the bedroom apart, I gave up and sat on the edge of the bed. Ah well, it was a nice thought while it lasted. Shutting my eyes for a brief moment I heard a noise which made me shoot up to my feet. An all too familiar creak of a floorboard on the stairs. Maybe my love had found the key! Suddenly the noise again, followed by a giggle; a girls giggle and a hushed Jay telling her to be quiet. I smiled at my son’s stupidity and crept out onto the landing.
The girl was stunning, he chose wisely I thought to myself as I observed the way they pretended they weren’t there. It doesn’t take a genius to work out what they were doing. Jay was seventeen now though, practically an adult and I know that I can bully him into explaining anything so I just stood to watch so as not to embarrass the girl. Reaching into his pocket, Jay pulled out a string which he held up in front of the stranger girl. I recognised it almost immediately, it was the string with the key at the end. He raised it up and the two started to laugh. He said that he had always wanted to know what we got up to in that room and now they finally found the key.
My eyes were wider than they had ever been. At first I struggled to move but somehow pushed past that and sprinted down the stairs. My footsteps must have startled them as the girl screamed and that threw me off balance and I tumbled face first into a heap at the bottom. The adrenaline was still pumping and I jumped to my feet, barking at them to hand over the key. The commotion inside, especially a strange girl screaming, had frightened my partner and they came running in at full speed to see what was happening. I grabbed the key out of Jay’s hand and told him to take the girl home. It may be possible I was a little too stern at this point but the shock of seeing him about to open the door was too much to handle.
As the door closed I looked at the key and then looked at the love of my life. A grin rose across their face as we realised what just happened. I felt a sudden rush of pain from the fall and cuddled them for comfort. Close one, we joked as we hid the key and headed into the kitchen to start on dinner and to get the normal things back on track.
The point of all of this is that parents will have their secrets. Usually it is for a good reason and they will go to slightly extreme lengths to do so. I wonder if Jay ever found out what was in that room? My thoughts are… Even if he didn’t want to let it go, he most definitely would not have managed to gain entry.
This is my entry for day twenty-eight of the thirty day writing challenge. If you wish to know where I get the prompts from feel free to comment or message and I will get back to you
The prompt for day twenty-eight is:
“Write a story that includes: a family argument, a 17th-floor balcony, and an
Tensions were rising in Marcia and Joseph’s marriage and the couple decided it was time to take a vacation – a vacation from bills, stress and life in general. It took four months to agree on a place to go, four months of arguing. When you can’t even settle on where to go for a vacation to get away from arguing because you are too busy arguing then you know something is deeply wrong.
The couple eventually decided on the hotel they stayed at during their honeymoon. A sweet little village in Cyprus; the place they were at their happiest together. Surely going there would spark any flame left over and help them get back on track, even if only a little. This was the first and only thing for a long time that the pair actually agreed on and even shared a smile about as they reminisced over the pictures in the brochure. They looked at old photographs and compared them to see how much had changed. Pointing out that the hotel had been made bigger, Joseph decided to book a room up on the top floor – the 17th floor.
They arrived at the hotel during a blistering heatwave. Marcia didn’t like the heat and it made her grouchy, often snapping at Joseph for even so little as breathing the wrong way. They sat on the bed and Joseph tried to talk to his wife; he tried to make her calm down a little and soak in the fact that they were in the place they were when they were most in love. Her face was red, sweaty and far too depressed considering they were on vacation and he tried his best to lighten her spirits. At first it seemed to work and they managed to unpack but then came time to get ready for the night out.
Marcia never felt comfortable in the heat, it was making her flustered and she felt disgusting, even when dressed to impress with her favourite dress and new matching heels. She wrapped a shawl, the same colour as her dress, over her shoulders and she settled on the fact that the red, blotchy mess she had become was never going to look any more ready. Joseph had sat in the room ready for almost two hours already but she didn’t appreciate that, she had to look the best she could or they weren’t going out. Simple.
Customers flooded the restaurant that they remembered being quaint and romantic. Much to their dismay, the resort had became much more popular and ‘family friendly’ since they were here on their honeymoon. They both sighed and rolled their eyes, Marcia even gave a tut at the waiter as if it was his fault but the man was good at his job and he smiled as he held her seat for her.
Almost no conversation took place throughout the dinner. Instead, Marcia spent the entire night looking at the table and ignoring Joseph’s efforts to spark some form of response. She hated it here now; she hated the atmosphere, the kids, the noise and most of all she hated the moist heat that was ruining her hair and making her sweat like crazy.
Without warning, mid-meal, Marcia stood up and walked off. Joseph sat perfectly still for a moment and watched his wife walk out of the room and he looked around but nobody had paid the slightest bit of attention. Clearly there was something she hadn’t told him. What was she hiding? Why was she acting this way? Placing his knife and fork down, slowly, he stood up and crept after her. They hadn’t paid for the meal and someone would surely report it but facing her wrath if he didn’t follow would have been a whole lot worse. Experience had taught him that.
Joseph arrived at the room and Marcia was sat on the edge of the bed in tears. He knelt beside her and begged her to tell him what was wrong but she tried to resist talking to him. She pushed him to the floor and ran out on to the balcony. He ran after her and grabbed her, still pleading with her for an explanation. Screaming at him to leave her alone, she pounded onto his chest with her palms and started pushing. She wouldn’t stop pushing against his tight grasp on her arms. As she threw herself about the balcony trying to get away from him her arms slipped from his grasp. Joseph stumbled back and had no choice but to watch as the woman he loved tripped back, falling over the edge of the balcony. He jumped forward, leaning so far over that he almost fell himself but it was no use, she was gone. As he stood with his arm still outstretched, trying to reach for his wife who was now a tiny body on the floor below, a gust of wind carried a familiar smell, her perfume, and as it surrounded him he closed his eyes and fell to his knees. A final aroma that would never leave him.
This is my entry for day twenty-seven of the thirty day writing challenge. If you wish to know where I get the prompts from feel free to comment or message and I will get back to you
The prompt for day twenty-seven is:
“Alison decides to find the son she gave up for adoption years ago. The son is
now a teenager. She tracks him down at the fast food restaurant where he
works in the evenings. Write about the encounter from either Alison’s or her
Yet again Michael was set for another tedious shift filled with flipping burgers and sweating through his uniform. He sighed as he left the house on his way to his own personal hell. The people were fun, he liked them, but the entire place was a cesspool of bitching, grease and back-stabbing. The grease, oddly enough, was his favourite thing from that list – he hated grease, it literally made him throw up.
As he donned his cap and apron the smiles of his co-workers, who no doubt were slagging him off the second he left the room, were the only things making him feel like he could get through this. A job is a job, Michael knew this and refused to let the pit of despair that he had let himself fall in to stop him from being happy. At least today he was in charge of making and serving fries, it was easy and meant that he didn’t have to deal with people.
Standing over the lava filled vats with sweat dripping down his nose, he heard his name being called. Turning around he saw his manager, Ashley, waving for him to come over. She was a pretty lady, a little blonde at times but fun to be around. There was another woman with her, a customer perhaps? He walked over to say hello and made sure to smile and be polite, they really disliked when the employees weren’t nice to customers these days.
“This lady would like to speak to you,” Ashley exclaimed and gave them both a smile as she walked away.
There was an awkward silence as the two looked at each other. The strange woman had tears in her eyes and she was shaking. Luckily, Michael had learnt a thing or two from working here – he never thought that would happen. From observing customers’ reactions and behaviours which followed over the last year, he had figured out how people are feeling at a certain point, even when they try to hide it. He told the lady to sit down for a moment and grabbed her a small sprite from the machine – this was against the rules but he figured he’d get away with it if he claimed she was about to pass out and needed a drink…
She thanked him and took a sip as he sat opposite. She looked down, nervously playing with the cup with her fingers. He tried to grab a bit of eye-contact but she wasn’t biting. There was only one thing for it, he had to ask what she wanted.
“I came to tell you something…” she trailed off but finally looked him in the face. “My name is Alison.”
“Well, hi, I guess?” Michael laughed a little as he tried to lighten the mood. “You already know my name, obviously!”
The stranger laughed and looked back down at the drink that she was still playing with. She sat up straight and tensed, a lot. This sent a nervous energy through Michael and he mimicked her seating position.
“What do you want?” He said in a stern tone. “What’s wrong?”
“I…” a tear rolled down her cheek, “…I just had to find you. I’m sorry for doing this at work but it was the only place I knew where to find you.” She looked up at him. Michael’s face was that of deep concern, whoever she was and whatever she wanted, it was serious. He ducked his head to look at her eyes and his movements made Alison look up at him.
“I’m your mum!” She blurted out, smiling but dropping it as she saw his reaction.
“Erm, I think you’re wrong because I know my mum?” Michael questioned, confused and a little shaken. Surely this was a joke.
Alison’s entire body sank into the seat. He didn’t know. He had no idea that he was adopted and this is how he was to find out. As far as first impressions go, this has got to be the worst. She didn’t know what to do. How could she burst into his life and pile this on top of him when he was so young and in the middle of a shift. How stupid could she have been?
All she could muster up through the shock was a broken “I’m sorry…”
This is my entry for day twenty-six of the thirty day writing challenge.Not in the mood today. If you wish to know where I get the prompts from feel free to comment or message and I will get back to you
The prompt for day twenty-six is:
“Today, try telling your story out loud. Speak into a recording device (there may
be one on your cell phone). Then play back what you said and write it down.
You can revise and edit later if you want. Do the words flow more easily when
you are talking instead of writing? If you don’t have a recording device, do this
exercise anyway, but stop after a few minutes to write down what you’ve just
As their amateur rock band bounced off the stage, buzzing with the electric energy flying throughout the room, Laura and her group knew that the night had been a success. They crashed into the ‘green room’ – also known as the staff break area – and grabbed a bottle of water each. They were sweating and tired and the conversations they were having were being interrupted with nervous laughter.
Alex turned and raised his hand to high-five Laura. As their hands met mid-air they clasped and fell to the sofa, they never let go. Sarah, the bass player, noticed this and grinned – although it was tough to tell since they were all smiling away anyway. She had been noticing the growing relationship between the two and this was the first clear sign that something could happen. She squealed like an excited child and all eyes shot straight to her. With a red face she laughed and adjusted her seating position. “I’m just excited about how well tonight went…” she lied. The room lit up with laughter as everyone agreed with her and the conversations carried on. Sarah looked across to see that her two friends were no longer holding hands and felt a little guilty for her interruption.
At the end of the night it was the three of them left, Alex, Laura and Sarah – who clearly did not understand her third wheel role. They were all packed and Sarah slung her guitar over her shoulder, signalling for Laura to hurry up and walking out into the alley. Laura seemed to take forever to join her in the cold but she came skipping out with a smile on her face. They walked up the alley turning to wave goodbye to Alex. Sarah noticed the smile on Laura’s face as she waved and nudged her on the arm. She looked at her friend wondering why she had nudged her and then saw the huge smile across her face. She immediately mimicked the smile and let out a giggle as she turned to face back up the alley. Her hands swung by her sides, playing with her skirt as she walked.
“So?” Sarah nudged her again.
“So what?” Laura laughed, clearly understanding what she meant.
“Alex, you, love!” She couldn’t contain her excitement anymore, she had to meddle.
Laura looked at her friend and she could see in her eyes that she wasn’t going to let this go. “I dunno about love…” she mumbled the rest as she looked away.
“I dunno about love on his part…” Laura’s face turned redder than than shades in her hair as she admitted her feelings.
Sarah shrieked excitedly and jumped like a maniac at the development. She hugged her friend and begged her to spill the beans as to what has happened, what has been said and what is going to happen. Laura didn’t want to talk much about it because she still wasn’t sure how Alex felt. The truth is, Alex had an on again – off again girlfriend that he always talked about but never brought into the group who she was a little intimidated by. However, the hyper, blonde girl wouldn’t let it drop, she had to know what was happening and she forced it out of her.
Sadly, Sarah was disappointed to hear that the most that had happened was a little hand holding and a hug. Not even a kiss! There was no way she could let this stand. She had to interfere and as soon as Laura saw that look in her eyes she grabbed her by the arms and begged her not too.
“Too late…” Sarah said mysteriously and started laughing as she ran off up the street.
Confused and scared, Laura ran after her – noticing that she had grabbed her mobile phone and was typing away. She must have took it when they were hugging or something. She yelled at her to stop what she was doing but it was too late. “Sent!” Sarah laughed and tossed her phone back to her. She had deleted the message that she just sent. This could potentially be the most disastrous thing ever. Alex was a band mate, a friend and the man she loved. What the hell did her friend send to him!
The phone began to vibrate, stopping her in her tracks. Sarah ran over to see what was wrong and when she realised it was the phone she made Laura answer it. It was Alex.
“Hey…” his voice sounded weird.
“So, erm, did you mean what you just said?” He spoke a little softer.
“I… That is I…” she was interrupted.
“Because if you did, you know I would. Just sayin’ to get that out there.”
The line went dead. He hung up, probably because he was nervous. She looked to Sarah for support and all she saw was a crazy girl bouncing around the street laughing at the top of her lungs.
“Some rock star! Hanging up on a girl because he was nervous!” Sarah joked as she took out her own phone. “I’ll respond for you.”
Laura stood in the middle of the street. What was happening! This has got to be one of the most surreal moments of her life. Sarah was setting her up, with Alex no less! What would the other two band members say about this? What would it mean for the group? Her thoughts were interrupted by Sarah’s crazy laughing.
“You have a date tomorrow night, m’lady!” She said, hooking Laura’s arm and dragging her along the street. They had been stood here for at least ten minutes now and that’s just a little bit weird. “The moral of tonights little adventure is that you should always listen to me!” She joked. “Clearly a little bit of interfering can never go wrong!”
Or can it….
This is my entry for day twenty-five of the thirty day writing challenge.I’m kind of struggling to focus at the moment with all of the university stuff going on… almost didn’t do this one! If you wish to know where I get the prompts from feel free to comment or message and I will get back to you
The prompt for day twenty-five is:
“Write a story that includes: melted snow, a dead poet, and a betrayal….”
Writing was the biggest passion Rhys had from being a small child. He would take part in writing everything he could, from plays to poems and he would never tire. That kind of passion is rare and he knew that, he also knew that one day he would find a job writing – possibly for a sitcom or west end plays. Never in his wildest dreams would he of thought that when he published his poetry book it would have taken off the way it did. From almost the instant the book was published the money started rolling in. How many writers were out there? He often thought this to himself as he contemplated his own success. The world is full of starving writers and yet here he is, barely out of school and making more money than most with his first publication.
Every now and then Rhys would be sent letters from his readers, usually explaining how they bought the book and that it has spoken to them. He always made a point of reading these as it gave him a sense of pride and motivation to carry on doing the thing he loved the most. Sometimes, however, the letters were slightly more sinister.
It had been three years since the publication of his most successful poetry book and Rhys was almost finished with his new release. The poems inside, he believed, were of a whole new level and even if these did not have the success of the previous he would still cherish the meaning behind the words.
As the winter rolled in he finished his final work and finally it was ready to be published. Calling his best friend of almost ten years, he yelled excitedly down the telephone for him to come over. The blizzard outside can easily be overcome for something this huge. His friend immediately agreed and promised not to be too long, To pass the time whilst he waited, Rhys made himself a hot cup of coco and sat infront of the fire, reading his poems and feeling pretty darn proud of himself. His pride was never arrogant, even with his success.
The telephone rang, making him jump and spill his drink which by now was only slightly warm. His friend was calling from the bottom of his driveway because he was stuck in the snow. Rhys told him to leave it but his friend was adamant that it had to be dug out. With a sigh he agreed and donned his thick coat and hat before heading into the freezing cold.
Arriving at the bottom of the drive, Rhys noticed the car was there but his friend was not. “Matt?” He called out, wondering what had happened. The silence was almost deafening; the blizzard surrounded him and there was no sign of life.
Suddenly, a crack like that of a whip caught his attention and he span to face the source of the noise. As he spun a bullet ripped through the poet’s forehead and sent the man, lifeless, crashing to the floor. The warmth of his body as he lay there, eyes and mouth wide open, began to melt the snow around him in the shape of his body.
Matt stepped forward and knelt beside his old friend, still holding the gun. A tear rolled down his cheek as he apologised for what he had done. He needed money. He needed fame. Rhys would never have understood that. Justifying his actions he repeated, over and over, you have to take what you want in this life – no matter what…
This e-mail is not intended as offensive to any of the parties involved. It merely states why I am stressing out a little!
Ok, so I am aware that my only posts lately have been my writing challenge and for that I apologise. Truth be told I am just in limbo right now. Those of you who have followed any of my old posts will know that I returned to education last year at Gateshead College, studying an HEFC diploma which involved: Criminology, Quantitative Methods, English Language and a thing called Toolbox! I can gladly say that I passed the course, even exceeding the conditions for my uni offer. I’ve had my results almost two months now and confirmed them with Bangor University more than once. However, they will not accept them without the official certificate.
At first I was all ‘ Oh, ok that is fair enough I guess? Even though if you read my letter it practically tells you to accept it’ but then in comes Northumbria University. Now, don’t get me wrong! Northumbria University have been really cool up until now and I had no issues with them at all. Since getting my results though they have caused so much stress and annoyance…
They haven’t sent my certificate out yet.
OVER A MONTH And they will not give me a specific date when I contact them on the telephone as to when it is coming, other than ‘late August” which means that I may miss my deadline and not actually get to go to the uni I want to after all.
So I informed Bangor of this but still, no, they said I just had to wait until I got it then they would assess my situation. Please tell me how this is fair? I worked my ass off to get the grades I needed. I put in a lot of effort and for what? Obviously I may be jumping the gun a little because I don’t know the actual outcome yet but still.. I hope you can see my point.
Then there was this…
I received an e-mail yesterday from Bangor admissions manager basically asking why I hadn’t confirmed my results yet… Ok… then it went on to say that
“If you have confirmation of your results in any form…”
Seriously? Are you being serious right now?
So, I rang the number he provided (which was wrong – he got two of the digits mixed up… just pointing that out) and spoke to a lovely woman – who sounded like she had dealt with more than her fair share of annoying people like me today, yet was willing to help me anyway which I massively appreciate. She gave me a direct e-mail address to send my stuff to her and she would look into what could be done. I haven’t heard anything back yet although truth be told I didn’t expect too considering what day it is and I guessed it would take longer than a day anyway.
My fingers are crossed that this lady will be able to help me get to Bangor University and actually do what I have dreamt about for so long…
Today is A-level results day. Congratulations to all of those who received/exceeded the results they needed and to those going to Bangor – I will hopefully see you soon!
This is my entry for day twenty-four of the thirty day writing challenge. When I first read this prompt I sat back and took a moment. What the hell… I decided to write this in the form of a previous prompt. See if you can guess which that would be! If you wish to know where I get the prompts from feel free to comment or message and I will get back to you
The prompt for day twenty-four is:
“Write a story about a victimizer and a victim… in which the person who appears
to be the victim is really the victimizer, and the person who appears to be the
victimizer is actually the other person’s victim…”
Gemma sat, broken, in the mud just outside of her garden. She was bruised, not just physically but emotionally as well. For months she had been tortured by a girl she once called friend and it had came to this moment. You couldn’t tell because of the rain but Gemma was in tears; she had given up completely. Her tormentor, Emily, stood over her holding an old hatchet. The rain covered the cold looking girl yet she never blinked. A smug smile beamed across her face as she realised how destroyed her old friend had become. She kicked her, making her face down in the mud, and swung the hatchet. With a thud the weapon sliced deep into the mud beside Gemma’s head, so close it cut some of her hair. She struggled to look up and as she did she saw Emily walking away, laughing.
Two, almost identical teenage girls were once friends – best friends. Every day they would head to school together, share the entire day together and head home to spend evenings together. There was nothing one didn’t know about the other. Or so they thought…
It was a particularly cold winter in Bakersfield, California. The snow was deeper than any living person could remember and the entire state was at a standstill. Christmas eve came along and up until now all had been going well, but there was a bang at the door. Emily answered, not expecting to see her best friend Gemma standing at the other side wearing almost nothing considering how cold it was. She immediately invited her in but her friend didn’t move, she stood in her pyjamas just staring. Emily tried to drag her inside, begging her to tell her what was wrong but the girl resisted. She started screaming at Emily, at first she couldn’t tell what she was saying but then it became clear. She was yelling at her about a boy, a boy she liked. It turns out the boy had turned her down because he liked Emily a lot more than he liked Gemma. Realising she couldn’t calm her down or bring her inside, Emily told the girl to go home and get warm then come back when she had calmed down. After all, it wasn’t her fault that he liked her better.
Nothing else was said that day, Emily sat on her bed falling asleep after her shower. She text her friend as though to extend an olive branch but there was no reply. Frustrated and tired she decided it was time to sleep, it could be fixed tomorrow.
A thud woke Emily up in the middle of the night. Her eyes had to adjust to the pitch black and she sat up. All was silent but she waited a moment. Another thud. She jumped up and ran to the top of the stairs, looking down to see if her parents were busy organising but there was nothing. A slight shuffle as though something heavy was being dragged along the room made Emily slide down the stairs to try and gain a closer look. Her entire body shook as she caught sight of her fathers slippers being dragged away from the door. Something bad was happening and she had no idea what. She ran back upstairs and grabbed her phone, immediately calling the police. She hid by her bed as the silence surrounded her, the lady on the other side of the phone tried to keep her calm as the police were on their way. Suddenly a thud shook the air around her and she looked directly at the source, a hatchet – ripping through the bedroom door. Several more thuds and there was almost a hole in the doorway as Emily screamed as loud as she could when there came sirens in the distance, followed by footsteps of a person running through the house and the back door slamming shut.
The next morning, after the police had left and Emily’s Aunt came to stay, she received a visit. Gemma had come and the two girls hugged for hours as she cried about the events of the night before. Her parents were dead, she explained. An intruder had broken in and killed them before trying to get her. She went through the events several times with her friend, hoping to remember something – anything that could help. They had been speaking for so long the sun had set and was rising again when suddenly Emily realised something. She had seen the intruders hair through a gap in the door where the hatchet had split the wood. She closed her eyes as she tried her best to focus in on the vague memory of the night before. Her eyes shot open and like a rabbit in the headlights and she slowly turned to look at her friend. Gemma smiled, she knew that she knew. Standing up the girl never dropped the grin as she walked towards Emily. She whispered into her friends ear…