Category Stories of Life

More Iceland

So, I learned three things today. 1) the blue lagoon in Iceland is my absolute new favourite place in the world. 2) Simon is a complete love rat. 3) I don’t actually care about number 2). 1) We went to the Blue Lagoon this morning. Seriously, google it – it is the most fantastic place. […]

An excerpt from ‘the life in the night’ – Part Nine *explicit*

 Another first Apr. 6th, 2008 at 12:02 PM My client last night was another first – my first American! I was given the heads up by the agency before I went that he was a lovely american gentleman that liked lots of deep throating, which to be honest, worried me slightly, as i have a […]

Memories of an Eating Disordered Teen *ED Triggering*

On Tuesday night I went to spend the night with my friend Kim, and we got talking about Bulimia, and I suddenly remembered that at one time when my eating was bad, I had kept a livejournal, and after a little searching, I managed to find it. After reading through it, I can identify how […]

The real reason why Borderlines avoid the hospital…

Talk to many of us suffering from BPD and you will find, on the whole, we are much happier tending to our own injuries (including stitching ourselves) rather than going to A&E (The Emergency Room for you Americans) and getting it done by a doctor. Personally, there are times for me when I have found […]

An excerpt from ‘the life in the night’ – Part Eight *explicit*

 A new first Apr. 2nd, 2008 at 11:38 PM Well my client tonight, a 1 hour job 15 minutes from my house, was a new first for me. My first Asian! I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to do it, don’t get me wrong, I am not racist, but I just don’t find people of […]

Dragging up the past

I had an interesting conversation this morning with my mum. When I was with Jean, she was never any good with money, resulting her being in debt by around £7,000. I asked my mum whether she would give Jean a loan for the full amount (obviously not realising that we would no longer be together […]

Poetry from my 12 year old self

I found this little folder at the bottom of a pile of junk in the attic. It contained the artwork above and a load of poetry that I had written when I was aged 12 – 13. Here are a few of them; I Stand Alone (written 23/06/2001) I look around, what do I see? […]