A cliche idea

So I’ve always wanted to write,  but never had the imagination to think of something original.  Maybe this is it,  maybe it isn’t.  But lets give it a ruddy good shot ey?

I’ve always written a page here and there in an attempt to express myself quickly,  to tear the emotion out of my chest and splat it onto a page in the hope it’ll leave me be.
My childhood bookshelves are riddled with ridiculous teenage diaries.
Always a hilarious read.
I’ve written about everything from travelling to religion, to love and depression.  I have not had great experiences when it comes to love,  but I regret none of it because it has made me …me. Silly eccentric me. I have had some horrible relationships that have added solid bricks to my wall of protection from men.  I have been with men I can’t even admit were as they were,  that I am ashamed of…and yet I pity them still.

I have also known men who’ve…
….Well,  before I delve any deeper I’m going to stop.  Part of the reason I am writing this blog (at the moment at least) is because I am surrounded by friends and family in happy, ‘we’re engaged/pregnant/moving in together!’ relationships. I feel like the odd one out in my dating nature….my seemingly endless sieving nature.  This sieve of mine,  and the men who keep falling through, is one of this things I’d love to share.  The hope…dare I admit the need for acceptance,  is that people in similar scenarios will find solace in my lonely, independent determination.

Edit.  It has turned into more of a brain fart of a blog.  I’m just writing the thoughts provoked by the situation I am in.  When I run out of those…I’ll tell you the tales of the many ex’s,  cos they’re always fun.
Christ I sound like I’m in my 50’s. Joy.

I think I’m gonna try and include a photograph in each of my posts as an attempt at a creative outlet…it might encourage me to pick up the old Nikon FM2 camera again! The model today is my old housemate,  and I thought this photo fitting for the start of my adventure into baring my soul to the internet….


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