It is a few days until my birthday and I've come to the realisation that the one person I would love to spend it with can never be what I want him to be. With a heart full of sorrow and my eyes leaking from the pain, I except that it just isn't to be.
Seeing as my conduct surrounding relationships is far from the norm, I fear my recovering will take the same path. Last night, I tried, what I'm confidently told is the full proof heartbreak method of "ice cream and a weepy film". Beaches was my film of choice (death and singing; perfection) and chocolate chip ice cream was its partner in crime. Not even one millimetre of my heart feels mended. Huff.
Where do I turn now? As I lie here on my bed, head aching from the tears I've already parted with, I'm left fearful that with my best friends 200 miles away, I may fall short of successfully sorting this pain in my chest. Without them to sort me out I'm left to wander to streets of Manchester with nothing but my iPod and my thoughts. I've quite literally turned into a Smiths music video.
So, I have decided that my beloved blog holds all the answers. I have neglected you all and I am ashamed of this fact. I will now put my forlorn energies into testing all the methods I am recommended to mend my broken heart. I will report back and the next time a man, woman or beast (I'm not here to judge) breaks that heart of yours, you will know which method of recovery is for you.
People wonder why I've been avoiding relationships for the majority of my adult life; turning into a Smiths video is surely all the explanation you need.
Just for any locals of you out there, if you do spot a weepy girl in maroon trousers struggling to sing "to die by your side is such a heavenly way to die" just leave me be. I'm in the middle of important research.
Unless you have cake. Then definitely offer cake!
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