The Delicate Art of Self Destruction

As you would expect from anyone who embodies the term “Hot Mess” i have a somewhat chaotic life and, more often than not, am my own worst enemy. I’ve been a student for most of my life, once upon a time it was easy, i was that lucky girl who pissed everybody by getting good grades without needing to put the work in. That changed around my a-levels when, having taken more classes than recommended, i realised winging it wasn’t exactly going to work for me anymore. And having used the easy route before, i suddenly found myself at a disadvantage. As it turns out, i am shit at working. Everybody else had had years of practice and i was left sat wondering how the hell people motivate themselves enough to open a textbook and be productive when there’s an infinite amount of new TV shows coming out for me to binge watch instead. Unfortunately, this attitude is true for most aspects of my life.

So that brings me to now, where I’ve started this blog and promised my self I’m going to keep working at it, yet having had it for a matter of weeks and looked forward to it for many before that, i am already finding myself struggling to sit down and commit myself to writing something. I had many different reasons for getting this, but my biggest was how many people have described to me that its like therapy. Writing out what’s in your head is relaxing, and satisfying. And they were completely right, i love writing, i always have, and god knows i have plenty i want to say. But inspite of that, there’s a teensy little voice in my head saying “but Kate, Game of Thrones…..” and every single time I think, goddamit voice your right. And i cave. Every time.

The worst part of it is, this happens in more areas of my life than I’m willing to admit. I’ve already written on this blog about my current attempt at eating healthy and taking better care of my body, and already, I’m finding it so easy to cave. I guess the problem with deciding not to eat unhealthy food, is that you then instantly crave every unhealthy, carby, cheesy, greasy dish on the planet. So while I don’t count meals out with my friends as cheating (even that obscenely large burger i devoured at The Ram), i doubt there’s any excuse for treating myself to a fried, macaroni cheese sandwich. But on the other hand, it was really bloody good.

But the self-destructive behaviour doesn’t end there for me, my biggest weakness by far comes in the form of a man. Beer man, as i shall refer to him on here, is the kind of guy every girl has met. He’s the flirt, the one who manages to be out of every girls league purely because he believes it to be so. I have a theory that anyone who is that smooth talking is bound to be trouble. We had agreed early on that neither of us had wanted a relationship, but would remain exclusive anyway. I probably should of twigged on that this was perfect for him, he wasn’t in the commitment of a relationship, but was on the right path for regular sex anyway. And like the true sucker i am, i fell for him. In knew from the beginning that doing so was a bad idea, but it happened anyway. So I’m ashamed to say that when i heard his voice outside my window calling my name at four in the morning, i left with him, and when he texted my for the first time in ages after ignoring my messages, i still went. Casual sex with a friend can be a great thing, especially when the sex is that good. But when there’s an imbalance of power it becomes unhealthy, and often painful. I knew he was sleeping with other girls despite claiming other wise, and i still know that now even though it was his bed i woke up in this morning. I can’t lie to myself and say it doesn’t bother me, that it doesn’t hurt when i know he’s with someone else. And i cant pretend that i don’t know I should end things, yet i let it continue anyway. You see, the problem with self destruction, is that it can really, really fun sometimes.


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