I was going to pen a blog post tomorrow, but due to unfortunate occurrences I will, instead, be going to visit with in-laws. Mr Bear’s grandmother has been taken ill and so we’re going to see her and (hopefully) cheer her up a bit. Wish us luck!
On a more positive note, I’ve had some time off from work lately; partly for my birthday and partly because Howard Bear had time off so I wanted to spend a few days with him where neither of us was working. One of these days off ended up being a trip through to York and a visit to one of my favourite stores – Lush!
In case you don’t know what Lush is, it’s a shop for handmade cosmetics. The products are wonderful and the shop always smells so heavenly from them! I definitely recommend that you try them or at least have a wander into a shop. Although, I will warn you, that the staff, fantastic though they always are, are also very helpful.
Continue reading “Lush Cosmetics, Boilers, & Downward Dips”
I’m not a great person. Sometimes I wonder why certain people put up with me. I stress and I worry far too much.
Sometimes people say things like they think I’m better than or more special than others. But I’m really not. I never will be. You should probably be prepared for a rambling post. Sorry.
Continue reading “Coal Dust”
I’ve realised I make comments about some things like I don’t care in order to hide the fact that I care too much, in case it bites back at me or something.
I’m pretty sure it won’t, but I worry a lot that people think I’m being silly and over emotional about things. I worry that they realise I invest my heart in certain things and certain people and make myself vulnerable. And I’m not sure why it matters that they know how vulnerable about certain things and certain people I am when they are friends that I’m talking to.
Continue reading “L’esprit De L’escalier”
I hate waking after a night out. The light hitting my eyes is filled with self-loathing and defeat, a thousand pains and what-ifs and whys. I hate waking to find my bed empty because you’re not there after dreams where we’re talking. We reminisce.
I hate waking with the wish that I hadn’t left the house, ruined myself with alcohol and guilt. But why do I feel guilty when you’re the one who did it? This guilt that I feel when every guy hits on me or people try to get me to let some nice fella buy me a drink or take me home. This horrible, revolting guilt… like I’m being unfaithful to you. And I never was.
Continue reading “Late Night & Waking”