I’m Not Gonna Write You A Love Song…

Well, I didn’t get it. The library job, that is. There were a lot of candidates though so there was probably somebody with more relevant experience than me and I was a bit nervy about the whole thing. As a friend at work told me, it is a bit ‘shit’, but I suppose at least I still have a good job that I enjoy. I’m lucky in that respect.

I’ve also got some more hours at the second job so I’m hoping that will help with the whole birthday funds thing as I’m twenty-two next month. Maybe this time around I’ll have a better birthday.

After all, last year when I was with R he had to go to a funeral on my birthday and I ended up having a miserable day at home. The year before that my twentieth went by almost unnoticed except for a random drinks thing I organised with three others at the last minute. Not to mention complicated family matters wherein we found out that my mum’s dad had been living nearby, being visited by her sister and had died that week.

The year before that was alright, though I felt like certain friends didn’t want to be there because they were either hung over or wanted to be with the girl they were trying to get with. And before that was my eighteenth which Master Berserker ruined in the way only he could and so I ended up drinking my bottle of champagne all on my own.

I don’t have much luck with birthdays.

This year I want things to be different, though. So I shall be completely blanking Valentines Day which is exactly a week before my birthday – I won’t be getting anything and I won’t write a declaration of my love to someone who doesn’t give enough of a damn to follow his heart. And seeing as the only thing he can do is text me that he’s missing me and mess me up even more without bothering to do anything about it, then why should I?

If he missed me… If he loved me… he’d stopped making a fool of the woman he’s with and her son. But apparently not so I guess I know where I stand, right?

I genuinely feel sorry for her and her son and I know that even people who dislike her feel the same because it is an injustice and it’s keeping her from finding someone who really does love her and want to be with her for the rest of their lives. I don’t care what the cynics say. There is one person out there for everyone. One particularly special one.

Anyway, rant over. It’s not like it will change anything because he won’t be reading this and even if he does, he’s too much of a coward to do something so brave as to follow his heart. He’s too busy following everyone else’s wishes like a little mouse. Like I used to be.

I’m sure I told you all the story of how I used to try to please everybody. How I tried university mostly because my mum wanted me to and because an ex thought I should. And before that I did the whole shop thing because my parents wanted me to. And before that I applied to university to do social work because my mum wanted me to. And I was always trying to please them all.

Always trying to keep the peace. Always taking the crap for things my brother did. Always cleaning up because I knew that if I didn’t they would get home and complain and it would all be my fault that the house was a mess and that I would be the inconsiderate one because I hadn’t cleaned despite it being mostly my brother’s mess.

Because, of course, they’d been at work all day and they don’t expect to come back to a house that’s a mess and why couldn’t I just do something for them for a change because me and my brother are both selfish and don’t think of all the things they do for us, etc etc…

I don’t pander to that any more. I try to do things my own way and live for me. That may be classed as selfish, but at least I’m living a life instead of a lie. It’s just one extra letter but a whole lot more meaningful.

But back to birthday talk…

My plan is to go out on the Thursday night because my birthday is, as ever, in the half term so I can wake as late as I like the next day. Seems I may be out on the Friday and the Saturday too, so that could be fun. We’ll see what happens, though, because cash is still tight and I need to save up for a couple of things I want to repair on my beautiful car.

Hence the need for a second job or (possibly) a change of employment altogether. My mum is trying to push me to change employment. She has been ever since I started as a lollipop lady and I don’t think she’s realised how much it’s helped with my self-confidence and self-worth these past couple of years. She says it’s because she worries that I’ll be stuck when her and my dad are gone, but I don’t think she needs to. I’ll sort myself out soon enough.

It just takes time and there aren’t an awful lot of jobs going at the minute. Not to mention, I don’t really want to take a job, give up my old one and have the new one fall through when the standard trial period is up. I like to have a certain amount of stability in my finances like that. I’m not so fussed on the moving out thing. I know a lot of people are, but I think I’d rather wait.

I know I’m ready to go. I’ve always been ready to move out. I’m quite happy on my own. That’s just the way I am. I used to pretend my room in our old house was a flat because it was cut off from the rest of the house and I would spend all day up there by myself. Now my brother is moving out again it will be better. Everything will be cleaner and quieter. Furthermore, there will be more food in the house.

In other news, I had my hair cut. My mum did it. She’s an ex hairdresser. It’s been trimmed only a little and then re-layered, which means it’s thinner and not so heavy as it was. It still needs dying again to hide my roots (weirdly people keep mistaking me for a natural red head, though. Do I really suit it that well?) but I don’t have the money to do that just yet.

The picture from last night may or may not illustrate how much I had it thinned, but I’ll try to get a proper picture later on. For now you can marvel at how un-classy and drunk I look next to my much classier and much more sober looking friend.

I also got told that my dancing is quite sexy by somebody who has since sobered up. Considering how much I’d had, I’m not sure that’s true… but at least it’s a nice compliment. And I do rather like a dance.

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