Ooh, er, okay. Well, I’ll do my best.
I’m just going to pop a quick tw: self-harm and tw: suicide here because things are going to get quite frank and it’s bugging me that I can’t tag this properly so well, better safe than sorry.
1. Anyone who’s friends with me (if I may call you that) and anybody who takes a cursory glance at my posts probably knows this, but we don’t talk about this stuff anywhere near enough to make it seem normal, so I’m just going to say it anyway. I have depression. I have had it on and off since I was seventeen but this is the worst it has ever felt and for two and a half years now. It makes me feel pathetic. I struggle with the desire to self-harm. I frequently spend hours contemplating how the people around me would be better off if I weren’t here any more. That is the illness talking; it’s not me. But it feels like me, and it feels like it’s right. Excuse the total honesty, but if it were any other illness I might feel able to talk about it like it wasn’t a negative reflection on me, and that needs to change.
2. Bit less serious, I only have one ovary. The other one grew a cyst when I was 18 and had to be taken out. The cyst itself weighed 9lbs. Yes, you read that right. Yes, I did look pregnant. No, I don’t know why I didn’t go to the doctor before it got that size either.
3. I’m not a natural redhead, my hair is dyed with henna about once a month. I like having red hair much better than mouse brown and I inherited my dad’s unbearably pale skin, so it suits me more or less.
4. I express my love for people with food. If you’re unhappy, or celebrating, or just because, I frequently turn up to social gatherings (when I can face them) with something home made. I don’t know why I do this, but it seems to go down well most of the time.
5. I did ballet classes until I was 18, and still have my pointe shoes around somewhere because they represented the teachers’ faith in me to progress to that level of dancing. I was shite, of course, and totally the ‘wrong’ but it made me happy.
6. I am going to be 25 very soon and I am, to be totally honest, shitting bricks, because I have nothing to show for my 25 years on this planet. I would like to believe that my sweetness and boundless affection and kindness count for something, but I’m not at all sure that they do.
7. I make the best homemade chips/frites/fries/Pommes whatever you want to call them. Also, as a bonus, ever since I lived in Germany I have ketchup and mayonnaise with my chips. It’s a tiny thing but I like to remind myself of when I was there.
8. All my stuffed animals have names, accents and personalities.
9. One of my favourite things to do is pick out the bass lines in songs because my dad taught me to do it when I was about fourteen, and it makes me feel a little closer to him. I couldn’t do it at first, but one of the things I have been blessed with is a good ear - this, I think, is why I took to learning languages and why all of a sudden during a radio play or an advert I find myself spluttering “Is that X?” And no one knows but I *know* voices, somehow I just have this thing for hearing things - and I picked it up and now I still find myself doing it. I like to think you can appreciate music differently when hearing its component parts. I can sort of do drums too. 10. My favourite part (if you can call it that) of my body is my feet. They’re battle-scarred from years of dancing and I often joke they look like something out of a horror film, and I think I did my Achilles’ tendons some damage in those years too, but I like them. I would be barefoot all the time if I could. I can’t sleep in socks either, I end up pulling them off and the end of my bed is like a sock graveyard.