It’s not my plan

I don’t know why it’s deemed logical to assume that, with out a guy in the room, I can’t be happy.
Why you can’t understand that part of my plan isn’t just to sit and wait,
Scared to miss any event that might give fate the chance to introduce us.
Trying to like the right things,
To dress the right way
So that he will, some day show an interest in a girl who doesn’t exist!
It’s crazy!

People keep telling me that God has it planned, he knows the date, the time the man.
If I know that and they know that, then why is my relationship status up for debate?

My life is a story, pages bound together by experience, memories of laughter and light, tears and darkness. It’s still being written. A journey through time, cross referenced with the page numbers of others. Joined together to make an encyclopaedia of this planet.

Volume 23, page 5 find a guy, page six fall in love, page seven the wedding page eight have chi…woah just wait.
Hit pause
Rewind,
Why should my contents page be defined by what society declares to be correct?
If Gods got the plan then why do they insist that the dots have to connect?

Sure, I don’t have anyone to link hands with as we walk, to stand on the porch and kiss good night, to end a phone call with I love you, and, don’t get me wrong, all that would be great.

But I will wait.

Because for now I’m ok being me, just me.
So I will continue to stick additional pages to the binding, with fold outs and add ons, post its and margin notes. A working document of my highs and lows, hopes and dreams, the paths I’ve walked and the streams I’ve crossed.

I want to be able to tell the stories of far off faces, to find my name written on their pages, wrapped up in memories and photographs. Memories that are as bright as day even though the photographs have started to fade.
I want to walk the unwalked path
Dip my toes into foreign seas
Chase new rainbows, look at new skies.
With or with out a guy by my side.

So here’s to pages 4a, 4b, 4c
And who knows maybe even 4d

When the contents page of God’s plan connects with my pages we can turn over and start the next chapter.

Until then I will wait,

I will wait for him, but I will not waste for him the opportunities of a life time…my life time.

Counting down.

5hours 51 minutes and 12p to go!

Today is day 5 of Live Below the Line 2013 and across the country around 5000 people are counting down to midnight. Watching the clock like it’s New Year’s Eve and we are waiting for the ball to drop and the bells to ring.

Except it’s not; and they won’t.

Half way there…

I logged on to twitter during my ‘lunch’ break today to find that pretty much every tweet seemed to be about one thing…

Food!

Maybe it only seemed that way because for the 3rd day in a row my lunch had consisted 46p’s worth of cheese sandwich and an apple. Or maybe it’s because my main thought today has been about the kitkat on my desk that I can’t eat until Saturday. Or maybe, just maybe it’s because people are starting to notice.

Below The Line – Day One

It’s 9 o’clock and I am currently faced with the toughest choice I’ve faced all day, what do I do with my last 29p?

This week I am joining hundreds of others across the UK in living below the line.

The aim; to highlight the fact that tonight 1.2 billion people will be going to bed hungry, with out water and with no idea what tomorrow holds.

The challenge; £1 of food a day for 5 days.

The dilemma; have an apple now or have an apple tomorrow.

1989 – …

We aren’t cute faced babies or silver haired ladies,

We can’t be won over with Sunday school crafts or flower arranging,

Our world is advancing faster than you can imagine.

If we want it we can have it with out having to wait.

The internet is in our pockets

The world is on our doorstep

The future’s in our hands

Or so they keep telling us!

Drop beats and bass lines

As Rihanna competes with David Guetta for control of the night’s soundtrack; friends gather in groups, telling stories and sharing jokes. Our city centre is alive!

But being alive also means that it is messy!

As the clock strikes 11 on a Friday night our city centre transforms into a new world. A world where the music is loud enough to drown out fears, dense crowds are a cure for loneliness and cheap drinks are a substitute for self-worth. For a few hours life is controlled by the rhythm of the bass and then it’s over. The doors open into the cool evening and the crowds disperse.

Click!

It only took one look, one glimpse out of the corner of my eye and the colours started to fade. My mind zoomed in on all the things about me that I don’t like and everything else, well everything else fell into darkness. My well positioned defences crumbled, the floodgates opened and the darkness rushed in. My exterior continued as normal, keeping up the appearance of being ok, but me, well I was hiding, trapped in the darkness. After a while the cracks began to show.

Empty shelves

When I was a child my thinking space used to be the bottom of my wardrobe, it was my place to go when I needed to escape the pressures of this world. The place I would go to dream about far off lands and daring adventures. The back of the wardrobe never gave way to reveal this magical place but that didn’t stop my mind from going there.

God made me…

Every time I see you you’re eating.

Seven words was all it took for my past to resurface and for me to be confronted by my biggest fear.

Seven words.