The Tale of Where My Creative Juices Have Been Flowing (Not this way, obviously)

I've spent most of my life not being a "girly" girl; when I was a kid i spent my free time climbing trees and being inseparable from something called "sloppy tracksuit". As a teenager i was ill-fitted for the slow dancing etiquette of school discos, no matter how hard i tried. Leaving school and moving to London, most of my new friends were boys - I enjoy the lack of drama associated with the male psyche. I don't exactly cover myself with baggy clothes and shave my hair off but it's just that i think more like a boy. And i'm pretty fucking proud of that. It makes me me and all that shit.

So i pretty much want to remove my mind for fear of it being so sadly retarded ever again, because of late i've been devoting certain sections of my day (morning, late at night) to writing romantic emails. CRINGE . In the morning, i wake up alone, eat my breakfast, then get on the bus and spend the 45minute journey composing the PERFECT wake up message (jeez, writing this i sound lamer than a spinster with a Brides subscription). After hours of communication via any means possible, i lie down alone in bed and compose the PERFECT goodnight message. To compound this utter insanity i secretly keep a watch on my phone, stomach knotted, in hope of an equally romantic reply. Oh yeah, and there's usually fucking six hours of time difference separating the recipient and i.

I've got no idea where this bullshit came from.. i blame it on my few feminine pleasures - trashy tv, rom-coms and Jane Austin. Most girls who watched that infamous Pride and Prejudice tv series back in the nineties harbour a secret (or not so secret) longing for that kind of romance. An unrequited love, separated by land/sea, documented in letters.

"Oh Fanny, i do declare my heart feels as though it will explode every time he walks into the room". etc etc...

But i guess i started writing this jiz because i thought i should. I was shed

ding skin, starting afresh and having my eyes opened to unknown feelings. No more closed off, boyish emotions! i thought. Open yourself to it! Say the stuff i've been too embarrassed to even feel! For a while my words were written from behind my right hand - eyes squinting through and giggles stifled. I was still aware of how ridiculous it all was.

But somewhere down the line i began to enjoy how vunerable my words made me - bearing every last piece of my soul. I also lived for how my words seemed to affect the recipient; over those months i discovered just how easy it is to alter someone through type. And i thrived of his responses, the words - "forever", "heart", "aches", "complete" = they shook me to my very core and took me to a fantasy land so far removed from the daily reali

ties of tour.

He told me how he loved to wake up to my emails; so when my fingers found it harder to flow out sentences onto the keyboard, i worked harder to write.

What would we do without our messages? Hell, our relationship was built of excessive declarations of love each day. Without these we were just every other couple. No Austin, no adversity, just a relationship with an "i love you" at the end of a phone call. And this is how i convinced him to love me. He asked me to pour out my heart daily and

i did. I opened the floodgates but now the water was gone and i was catching raindrops to fill it again.

Then one day came the words.

But the words that mean i can stop with the old words.

I think i'd forgotten that boys aren't as caught up in "the dream" as girls. Wait, i wasn't even supposed to be caught up in the dream. He'd got bored of my daily updates on life etc, they were boring and hard to pay attention to until the end.

My beautifully crafted romantic emails? My little pieces of info abo

ut my day? Boring? FML. And worse than that, why the hell wasn't i happy not to have to write them anymore? I was only doing it because he was romantic and i was trying to be everything he wanted. Oh. God. How embarrassing. I'd tricked my mind into being gushy and now i fucking liked i

t.

Anyway, i guess my point is that boys don't really like love letters, or cutsie in-depth analysies of your day. They want you to get naked on video chat. Love letters/emails are purely for the girls' pleasure, so maybe write them and don't send them. I have the advantage that the package i sent him had a love letter in it but it got returned so i can take it out and burn it to save my embarrassment.

So, chill out, don't prise your heart open with a screwdriver just incase, like me, you can't shut it again.