I remember watching 'Breakfast at Tiffany's' for the first time with my mum, and becoming completely and utterly infatuated with the character of Holly Golightly. She embodied everything I wanted to be - confident, sophisticated and classy - and I fell in love with the film, knowing from the moment I finished watching it that it be regarded as 'One of my favourite films of all time' (with The Great Gatsby, The Danish Girl and The Curious Case of Benjamin Button being the other films I place in that category). I can't quite put my finger on what it was that drew me to the film, but I just knew that there was something special about it - the iconography, the costumes, the storyline - it was just so unlike any film that I had ever watched before.

Then, last summer, I finally found the time to read the book which, as cliché as it sounds, was considerably better than the film. Capote writes in a way which I found very similar to one of my all time favourite authors - F Scott Fitzgerald - and I found myself being more able to understand the character of Miss Holiday Golightly, and feeling more empathetic towards her than I had originally felt whilst watching the film.

Last year, on my 17th birthday, I opened my birthday card from my mum and dad - to find tickets to watch 'Breakfast at Tiffany's' at the Lowry Theatre! I was overjoyed, and that day will forever be regarded as one of my favourites. Pixie Lott conveyed the highly iconic character perfectly, yet for me - I will always regard Audrey Hepburn as the ultimate version of Holly Golightly.

As some of you may be aware, I study English Literature as one of my A - Levels, and for one of the pieces of our coursework we got to choose a novel of our choice, and either write an essay about it, or a recreative piece. The recreative piece seemed the most appealing to me, I love creative writing - and this really did give me the freedom and the excuse to write an original piece of work. Because I tend to write about a hundred words where only ten are necessary, I was struggling a bit in terms of the word count - and in the end had to chop down most of my work.

So, I thought why not put the original version on here? I'm not 100% sure if anyone will be interested in reading this, but I thought it was something a little bit different to what I usually post. (Spice things up a bit, you know). Right, this load of babble is about to come to an end ... so here you go lovelies!

{This is going to be an extremely lengthy blog post, just to pre-warn you!}

Entry number 1 

I'm here! I've finally made it. Wandering the quiet streets at 5am and looking into the windows of Tiffany's is everything I have dreamed of and more … yet why do I still feel so cripplingly unhappy? I still don't feel like I'm at home here. All these boxes are littering my flat, yet I find myself unable to empty them, fearing that then I am actually committing to something – and the thought of that scares me like no other. Perhaps all I need is some company. I miss Doc and the children, but most of all I miss my darling Fred. I'm just lonely, that must be why I'm feeling this way. 

Entry number 2 

I've surrounded myself with company for the past few nights, yet it doesn't seem to have much of an effect on me. I guess it just makes me feel less numb for a while, as if the gentle caresses of a man can warm my otherwise ice cold heart. Having a man in my life isn't the be all and end all – I'm completely aware of that. I just can't remember a time in my life when I've felt this alone before. Female friends aren't something I'm used to, for some reason women don't like me very much. Besides, the men in my life help me afford my new life here. A little powder room money sees me through from week to week. However, remind me to never see Mr Arbuck again – twenty cents is definitely not satisfactory for a woman of my calibre! 

Entry number 3 

Cat is my new companion. The poor slob without a name, oh how I adore him! I just don't feel like I have the right to give him one, seeing as we don't belong to each other. I'll name him eventually, once  find a place where I belong, and where we can fully exist together. Each day I'm growing more and more certain that it's not here. Singing and playing the guitar are things that focus my mind away from my broken heart. I wrote down lyrics the other day which utterly sum up my current situation -  

Don't wanna sleep, 

Don't wanna die 

Just wanna go a-travellin' through pictures of the sky 

Entry number 4 

I gave poor Paul, who I am now referring to as Fred, - for he reminds me of him greatly – an awful fright last night. Another one of my, how shall I put it, 'companions', turned frightening after consuming enough alcohol to wash an elephant, so I climbed up the icy fire escape and saw Fred lying there looking all cosy. It turns out he's a writer, and I'm going to help him, for he looks like me brother so. My new little project. Perhaps this will help me seek solace.  

Entry number 5 

Every Thursday I catch the 8:45 and go and see Sally Tomato in prison. This has been going on for seven months, and I get paid a hundred a week every time I visit this dear old man, who I utterly adore. To confirm to Mr O'Shaughnessy that I have been, I leave messages on his answering service telling him the weather report that Sally has mentioned to me. Don't get me wrong, I am not the highly vulnerable and pathetic airhead that they assume I am. I am completely certain that "there's a hurricane in Cuba" and "it’s snowing in Palermo" is code for some dodgy business the two have got going on. I still go and see Sally Tomato because I enjoy my visits, especially when he tells me that he prays for me. It's nice to know that at least someone is watching out for me.  

Entry number 6 

Tonight I had a party at my place, in another unsuccessful attempt to make it feel more like home. It was almost pathetic the way the men swarmed around me like a pack of bees. However, there was only one man who I had my eye on – Mr Rusty Trawler, a millionaire since the age of 5. Don't get me wrong, I know that this is the easy way out – to marry rich – yet I'm so determined to better myself, and in this world only money will help you do that. Rusty is a good guy, I'm almost certain about that. He has power, status, and wealth – everything that I have always dreamed of having, yet seem unable to. However, there's a dark side to him – a side which I am determined I can change. There's rumours circling about the fact that he is a Nazi sympathiser, and I truly don't want to be associated with that side of him – I'm a bit bone idle at times, but I have morals and values that I will never change purely for the sake of a man. If Rusty Trawler adores me as much as he says he does, the dark side of him will have to leave … otherwise I will.  

There's something else on my mind. I'm angry at Fred. I know I complain about Mag but she's got a good heart underneath all her … issues. Yes, I neglected her in her drunken state, but there's only so many times I can hold her hair back whilst she empties her stomach, a literal purge of the bitter emotions that the liquor causes her to possess. Fred should've looked after her. I begged him to. I thought he was one of the good ones.  

Don’t get me wrong, women are most definitely not objects which need to be looked after by men. But once Mag delves into the spirits, she becomes incapable of just about anything. 

I've asked her to move in with me. I needed some company, and it's nice to have another female around. There's been a massive influx in women campaigning for liberation and equal rights, Mag and I are going to join a club which is only 5 minutes away from our flat. We both dream of a future which sees strong women standing up for what they believe in, and are determined to get the ball rolling so our future daughters can experience an equal society. We’re going to change the world, Mag and I. Watch this space. 

Entry number 7 

Oh my darling Fred, I am so proud of him. He's just told me the incredible news that his first short story has been published! I know that I am in no position to comment, but I can't help but feel that he should be more commercially ambitious with his writing, but nonetheless this calls for a celebration.  

I really would hate to think that I'm sounding bitter here, but I can't help but think how easy it is for men to succeed in this world. His stories are beautiful, but if I were to write something of the same standard, or better, then the publisher wouldn't even consider running it. Yes, my story may be perfectly written and fantastically interesting, yet it's the fact that I'm a female which holds me back, as usual. I'm fed up of it.  

As a women, I am limited to being in the movies – merely speaking the beautiful words that people like Fred write. Whilst this is a great honour too, I know that I am not in this industry for my superb talent or powerful voice. No, I am in the movies, and I hope I'm not sounding too vain here, because people like to look at me. I am seen as an object, a pretty thing for your eyes to focus on for a couple of hours, instead of as a voice. People aren't listening, they're just looking. 

Entry number 8 

I'm sorry I haven't written in so long, so much has happened and I've had a hard time dealing with it all. I'm sick of the men in my life screwing me over. I've known it for a while now, that I need to be by myself – but how would society accept that? Women who are alone by choice get isolated from society, and vicious rumours are spread about them – some even get accused of witchcraft, for goodness sake! 

I'm alone again. I belong to nobody, yet belong to everyone, and the thought of that terrifies me. I'm sick of being in a cage, there for everyone to look at and admire, yet never truly want. I admit, I find it hard to let people in, which is why I make up all these tales about a life that is so far from my own, I've begun to even forget the truth. 

Entry number 9 

This little family I had created for myself crumbled to a pile of dust when Mag suspected the affair between Jose and I. He's the only person who I feel understand me, and I find myself giving him pieces of myself that no one else has ever received. Mag and I talked of improving the world we live in, yet we never considered changing ourselves. We don't need men in our lives in order to feel fulfilled, and the sooner we realise that, the better.

I hope you enjoyed this post, and I'm sorry for how long it was! If you've made it to the end, then thank you so much. :) 

See you next week, 

Love, 

Grace x

If I'm completely honest, I was struggling to think of a topic to write about for this week's blog post. Usually, I can just sit down with my laptop and start typing about the first thing that comes to mind, but I've been feeling pretty uninspired recently. At the moment, my life generally consists of school all day, coming home and doing more work and then going to bed (wow, how exciting!). Although I am prone to getting fed up when my routine begins to revolve around an endless stream of revision, I am extremely motivated in the sense that I only have a few short months left of school and then FREEDOM! (I am still massively unsure about the whole 'university thing'). To also inspire and motivate me to do work, I simply cast my mind to focus on the fact that I am extremely lucky to be able to have the opportunity of education that I do, and I really shouldn't take it for granted. There are people, especially girls, around the world who don't get to receive an education - purely due to their gender, and that honestly baffles me.

Figures such as the utterly fabulous Malala Yousafzai have brought light upon this issue, and organisations like 'HeForShe' and the 'GlobalGiving Girl Fund' are campaigning in order to create an equal future, where both genders receive equal chances and opportunities, without acts of discrimination standing in their way. Today, March 8th, marks International Women's Day - a day where women from all over the globe are being celebrated for their conscious efforts to creating an entirely equal society, with #BeBoldForChange being this years theme.

However, instead of writing a post where I celebrate the dominant female figures in society, I wanted to offer a more personal approach. I could easily write about Rosa Parks, Emmeline Pankhurst or Emma Watson, but I want to write about the impactful and insanely strong women in my life - all of which have shaped me into the person I am today. 

My Mum
So, starting with the most obvious one - my mum. I think we so easily take our parents for granted, and it sometimes gets in the way of us appreciating how much they actually do for us. I always have, and always will, admired my mum - when things get tough, and life is bringing you down, sometimes just having a cup of tea and a cry with your mum can solve everything. Whether you're sad, happy, poorly or angry, your mum is always the first person you want to turn to. Something extraordinary about my mother is the fact that she carried three babies in her stomach all at once. Even just the thought of that makes me want to throw up, but my mum just took it completely in her stride. She is constantly interrogated by people who only have to deal with one baby, with the most asked question being 'How did you manage?' - to that, she tends to answer 'I just had to be organised'. And that, Mother, you certainly are. There are some people who are just born to plan and arrange things, and my mum is definitely one of them. She has a reputation of having the Christmas cards sent out by December 1st, and she buys people's birthday cards and presents at least 2 months in advance. Despite being insanely organised and tidy, she is also one of the silliest people I know. If people think I'm a little bit (a lot) crazy and weird, then you have my mum to thank for that. Prone to pulling silly faces and uttering silly jokes, she still manages to look good whilst doing it (I have yet to master that skill). My Mum is 50 years old, and I'm not being biased here, but you sure as hell wouldn't think it. Fabulous at 50, yet still 5 at heart, my Mother is definitely one of the strongest people I know - and if I end up to be half the woman she is, I'll be eternally happy. 

My Sister 
Anyone who knows me personally, will know of the strong bond I have with my sister Alice. I am cringing as I type this, but she is my best friend as well as my sibling - and although we sometimes have the most violent arguments, we move on from them in less than 5 minutes. I have always looked up to Alice, mainly because she's a massive nerd and has an intellectual capability that I can't help but admire, but more so in the past year. Without a doubt, she is the strongest woman (can you call her that ... debatable) I know, and I am proud as punch to call her my sister. Although she does come out with the most vile things you could ever imagine, punch me so hard and so often that my body is covered in bruises, and burp CONSTANTLY (my ultimate pet peeve) - she is still someone who I massively look up to. Her determination to succeed is motivational, and I know that she will be massively successful. If you look at Alice, you may be deceived - she looks incredibly innocent and shy, with her immaculate hair and passionate love affair for anything with a floral print - yet she is one tough cookie. (did I actually just say that?). I'll tell you now, you would not mess with her - after experiencing her punches first hand, I'd advice you to steer clear. 

My Best Friend
Georgina, I'm pretty sure that you've read me talking about my mum and Alice, and have been wondering when your mention is going to be - well, SURPRISE! HERE YOU GO! 
I am lucky enough to have grown up with this amazing girl, and she is pretty much a second sister to me - and a third daughter to my mum and dad. We have been to nursery, primary school, high school and now sixth form together - and thinking about the fact that in a few months time we may be across the country from each other genuinely makes me cry. There's people who come and go, but I know that I'll be friends with Georgina for the rest of my life. We often joke about going on mental girls holidays when we're 40 - leaving our kids and husbands at home to fend for themselves - and I know for a fact that that'll be reality one day. Georgina has stuck by me through thick and thin - and is genuinely the kindest, funniest and more supportive person I know. There isn't a day that goes by where we're not laughing at the most immature and pathetic things together, and I can tell her absolutely anything - whether it be something serious, or something extremely embarrassing. Georgina, you are the bestest friend I could ever wish for, and I am so grateful for you - even when you're taking the mick out of me. 

My Nanna/Nana's
I couldn't write this post without mentioning my beautiful Nannas. I am fortunate to still have the both of them, and they really do mean the absolute world to me. They are both absolute polar opposites in every sense of the word, yet I love them both in equal measures. Nanna Janice is strong, brave, opinionated and witty - whilst my Nana Delia is soft, gentle, hilarious and, at times, a little bit ditzy. (sorry Nana!) They both have qualities the other one doesn't, yet they get along so well! I'm always at my happiest when the whole family is together, and I love looking across the dinner table to see my two nanna's (and Grandad!) sitting opposite me. Like the rest of my family, they are extremely supportive - and both of them sit and read my blogs, or 'blobs' as Nana Delia has the tendency to call them. I know for a fact that I wouldn't be the person I am today without their influence, and I am proud to have a mixture of the qualities that they possess. 

The truth is, I could sit here and write about every single woman in my life - as I am influenced and inspired by them all, but this blog post is already long enough, and the time before mocks start seems to be coming around very quick (wish me luck, please!). So, I'm going to finish off here - with a video created by Salvo Studios for International Women's Day 2017, which I utterly adore. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rtXRnVCGh4Y

I hope you've had a great day, and I'll see you next week. 

Love,
Grace x

p.s. Did anyone notice that I changed my domain from gracyviolet.blogspot.co.uk to gracyviolet.co.uk - how professional! 

Tomorrow marks a year since you were so cruelly taken away from us, and whilst half of me thinks about how quickly those 365 days have come around, they also feel like a lifetime too. A whole year without you has been the most difficult thing I have ever had to face, and what makes it worse is that it's going to continue to grow. Another year shall pass, and another, and another and I may reach the age of 70 - sat in my rocking chair and thinking about how much time has passed, yet the pain never subsided.

It still doesn't feel real. I lie in my bed at night and the question that always springs to mind is 'Why?' Why did this happen? I'm still trying to figure that one out, and I know that I never will. Even when we were faced with what was going to happen, I still truly believed that it wouldn't. It kills me because I thought it was wrong, that the doctors had got it confused somehow. I remember telling you that I wasn't going to let anything happen to you, and I still haven't forgiven myself for breaking my promise.

I remember everything clear as day, and I am haunted by it. I get flashbacks which hurt me beyond belief, which make me grimace and squeeze my eyes tight - forcing myself to think about something else. I'm thinking about this very moment last year, and how I wasn't aware that my final moment with you would be my last. But, maybe I did. The truth is, deep down I knew - it was just the acceptance that I struggled with. I had to know, otherwise I wouldn't of said the words to you that I did on that last night. I count my blessings everyday that I hadn't just given you the obligatory kiss on the forehead and uttered 'Goodnight'.

'Us three against the world, forever and ever' - that is how it will always be. I will tell my children, if I ever do have them, of their wonderful Uncle Luke, who they'll never meet but I know loves them dearly. I'll tell them about how much fun we had growing up together and how, even after all this time, you are still the reason for my smile. I'll teach them how to grab life by their fists in the same way that you did, and how nothing is certain and you should embrace that instead of being scared of it.

There are things that still to this day I cannot bring myself to talk about. I made so many promises to you, and I am trying so hard to fulfil them. I told you that I'd visit Niagra Falls, and all the places you wanted to go but there's the pressure of time, and what if it runs out before I can carry out your wishes? What if time keeps passing by as quickly as it seems to be doing, and I've realised that I'm coming to the end of my life and never really done anything? I have so many dreams, goals and ambitions but the way I feel often stops me from reaching them. I don't even know what I want anymore. All I know is that I miss you, desperately, and the pain is becoming more intense with each passing day.

There are songs that I still can't listen to without choking up, films that I can't bring myself to watch and pictures which hurt my heart and cause the tears to fall within the matter of an instance. I tend to feel you beside me, I am aware of your presence hovering over me - but then there are days when I can no longer look beside me in the car and see you sat in the passenger seat. That's when things start to get bad. Things get so bad that I struggle to breathe, and all I can do I sleep in the hope that I'll wake up and the intensity and rawness will have cleared.

It's been a year, and whilst I miss you so deeply, I am also grateful that you were here - even if it was for such a short amount of time. Sixteen years doesn't seem enough for someone like you to be on Earth, but you lived more in those few years than some people do in their lifetime. Each day I'm trying so hard to be more like you, yet it never ceases to amaze me how you still managed to smile even on the darkest of days. I'm hoping I'll master that one day, but for now I'll just admire you for it.

If your watching over me like I truly believe you are, you'll know that these 365 days have not only brought such vast amounts of indescribable sadness, but there have also been some incredibly happy times too. I've achieved so much more than I thought I would, and everyone keeps telling me how proud you'd be - I desperately hope that's true. I'm almost reaching the end of A Levels - I never thought I would see the day. There's been all these moments when I've wanted to give up, but your strength has taught me to keep going no matter what. Although I'm late to school almost everyday because the getting up in the morning has become immensely difficult, I arrive with a smile painted on my face - completely in your honour.

I'm trying to keep your memory alive, but I fear upsetting people. You were, you are, so deeply loved and admired, and so many people feel the pain of losing you. We all love you, Luke. That's what makes it so difficult. In just a few months time I'll be moving on, I'll be meeting a new bunch of people who won't look at me and be reminded of such heartbreak. Whilst that's so refreshing - the thought of being somewhere where people only know my name and not my story - it's also terrifying too. Because when the time comes, I'll eventually have to tell my story and how do I explain it? How do I explain that the world is so cruel, and how the three of us became a lonely pack of two?

We were a team, and we've lost a player. No one will ever understand the bond that we shared and, if I'm honest, I don't want them to. Whilst the myths are not true, and we can't communicate telepathically, we all understood each other in a way that no one else ever will. My heart is broken, and I know that it can never truly be fixed. A part of me left on the day that you did, and I'll never get it back - I never want to. Because it belongs to you, and it'll keep you close to me forever.

One of my most cherished items is a necklace with your fingerprint on it. On days where I can't feel your presence, or where I particularly need you to be with me, I wear it and it's like you never left. I can place my finger on the top of it, and if I shut my eyes I can see you beside me. It's what happens when I open them which becomes an issue. Because some days I have to face reality, and that's something I struggle with. I try and exist in my own little bubble, but sometimes that bubble bursts and everything starts going wrong. My little game of 'let's pretend' is ruined, and that's when the sadness starts to come flooding in.

Then there are days when I'm fueled by the pain of losing you. I know that nothing lasts forever, and that I need to live each day like it's my last. I have changed in the fact that I know life is way too short to spend it being unhappy. In this sense, I no longer value other people's opinions in the way that they used to tear me down so much, I have become more confident and accepting towards myself - and I have realised that I can achieve anything I set my mind to, I just have to believe in myself first. I've learnt that a day without laughter is a day wasted, and I have tried to radiate happiness and positivity everywhere that I go. Although there are days when lifting my head off the pillow seems impossible, I think of the times when you continued going regardless of the obstacles which you faced.

I couldn't have gotten through this year without the incredible people that I have by my side. Not a single day goes by where I'm not grateful for them, and even when I feel so alone I'm constantly reminded that I'm not. Although I've lost so much, I can't forget how much I've also gained. I have always been a people person, yet definitely more so in these past 365 days. Despite the fact that I have the tendency to push people away when I truly need them the most, and I can be so annoying and hard to deal with, I am surrounded by people who have never given up on me. I will never be able to begin to thank them enough.

It's been a year and whilst nothing will ever hurt as much, I am comforted by the happy memories I have of you. Luke, you changed my life for the better and you will always be remembered. A whole year without your smile has been complete hell, but you had the kind of smile that I could never truly forget. Even when you were unable to do anything else, you always managed to turn up the corners of your mouth and my admiration for that will never wear off. I know that I will see you again someday, but instead of willing for that day to come, I will simply live a life that I know we'll both be proud of.

To you, Luke. I hope you're shining just as bright up there.

All my love,
Forever and always.

Grace x

For a long time, I have been trying to convince Alice to get on board with the whole 'vlog' idea. Whilst I could just pick up a camera and do it by myself, I know that that wouldn't be half as much fun as it'd be if the two of us were to do it together - so, at the weekend, we bit the bullet and whipped out my camera to film a couple of clips each day. As you can quite obviously tell from the video, we are definitely not professional in the slightest, and this was only acting as a bit of fun - the chance to try something a little bit different. Whilst writing and blogging is still my ultimate favourite thing, it was nice to take a little break and create something a bit more visual for this week - in all honesty, I wasn't going to post this vlog, but it has made me smile every single time I've watched it and I hope it has the same effect on you!

I'm not going to lie, I'm ever so slightly nervous about posting this - what will people think? What will the responses be like?, but this fear of the unknown is ridiculous. I already put myself out there by writing a blog, so why not try a hand at a vlog too? Many people, myself included, try to stop themselves from doing what they want by blaming other people - 'oh, other people will judge me for it' etc etc, when the only person stopping you is ... yourself. 

Some people may love it, some may hate it. If you like it, then I'm glad!, but if you don't - simply don't watch! This was just a little bit of fun, and I hope you enjoy x

You can find the vlog here - https://youtu.be/AaDx-ZkysZ4

See you next week,

Love,

Grace x

Imagine a world without the buzz of social media - the endless scrolling through tweets, the selfie taking and the silly videos for our Snapchat stories. Imagine waking up in the morning, without rolling over to check your phone to see who's posted on Instagram, or if anyone's sent you a Whatsapp. It seems impossible, doesn't it?

Sunday evenings are where we come up with our goals for the following week, or at least I do anyway - how many people have sat down and thought 'I'm going to eat healthy, starting from tomorrow', yet Monday comes around and you find yourself giving into your unhealthy cravings, with no valid reason other than 'I'll start next week' - I know I'm certainly guilty of that. Yet this Sunday was different, I wasn't thinking about parting with my sugary snacks (we're better together, anyway), I was thinking about parting with my equally beloved social media accounts.

To say I'm 'obsessed' with social media would be pushing it a little, but I'm certainly a fan. I carry my phone around with me at all times, and am constantly checking it for updates - worrying what I'll miss if I'm not checking it every 5 minutes. It reached a point where I'd be sat in front of the TV and instead of watching the programme, I'd be scrolling through Instagram, Twitter or Facebook.

So, on impulse, I took my phone and deleted all my social media apps from it. (Except from Whatsapp, my group chats definitely hold more importance than my sanity). I have many reasons for doing this - the first one being (boring!) that I do need to focus more on my school work. There have been many occasions where I've sat in the study centre with a massive pile of work in front of me, yet instead have unlocked my phone to see that Jenny on Twitter has got caught in the rain on her way to work (what an awful, awful example).

One of the worst things about me is how easily I can get distracted. Even whilst writing this blog post I have clicked on Spotify countless times and spent time going through old JLS albums to choose the next song (currently playing: one shot). I'm not going to lie and say I've not been on social media at all - yet the amount of time I have spent on it has more than halved. Although it's only been a couple of days, there's definitely been a significant improvement in my mood, my energy levels and also my productivity. Instead of spending half an hour looking through Snapchat stories, I spend that time reading or (even better) REVISING!!!

Social media puts pressure on us, I think everyone can admit that. It puts pressure on us to construct the idea that we all lead perfect lives, to make sure we get the best lighting for that selfie or write the funniest tweet that's going to get us loads of retweets or favourites. We get our validation from the amount of attention our posts get - if someone writes a comment or, better, shares our post then we can finally feel a sense of satisfaction. If someone has a higher number of followers than us, then we assume that they are automatically better at what they do.

I personally struggle to understand why it's called 'Social Media' when it's anything but sociable. You see people walking past you on the street utterly engrossed in their Iphones, or families out in a restaurant  all looking down at their technological devices - here's an idea ... TALK TO EACH OTHER !!! We've become accustomed to thinking 'ahh, I'm bored - Facebook will entertain me' as opposed to thinking 'ahh, I'm bored - let's go and sit with my family'. We no longer need to arrange to meet with our friends when we can talk to them through a computer screen instead, or if there's something that we need to say to someone but are a bit worried to do so we'll hide behind a text or a Whatsapp message instead of addressing them face to face.

I am guilty of all of these examples by the way, I'm not going to sit here and pretend that I'm not. I guess it just takes stepping away from it all to realise all of this. However, although I've just sat here and criticised it, I don't think the concept of social media should be held in an entirely negative light. Without social media, I wouldn't be able to do this blogging malarky that I enjoy so much and I probably wouldn't be looking for a career in the Media industry. (I also wouldn't be able to enjoy constant updates on Benedict Cumberbatch's whereabouts too, but that's another story.)

Social media is a great thing, don't get me wrong, yet I can't help but feel like it offers an alternative to physical human interaction. I'd love to sit in a restaurant and see people talking to each other instead of tweeting or go to a concert where nobody's recording it for Snapchat, yet I know that there's a very slim chance of that happening. Equally, I'd love to spread the messages my blogs contain far and wide, and I can only do this through using platforms like Twitter and Instagram.

It's a tricky one. There's this need for escapism, yet also immediacy - and it's choosing which one you would prefer. So, to end this blog post, I'd like to see whether you can delete all social media apps off your phone for an entire week. Honestly, it does feel weird at first, but it's also quite liberating. I'd love to hear how you find it!

See you next week,

Love,
Grace x

'Just because you know something is going to happen, it doesn't make it any easier when it does' is something that I have said many times before, and I'm certainly feeling the repercussions of it now. No matter how prepared you feel for the inevitable, it doesn't mean that there is even slightly less of an impact when it happens. Days turn into weeks, weeks into months and soon it's like you're urging it to just happen so you don't have to live in fear any longer - no matter how selfish, and messed up that may seem. All I've been thinking of recently is about this time last year, and I can't seem to escape from it ... no matter how hard I try.

For most of 2016, all my family and I seemed to receive was increasingly bad news. At each point I would think, 'This is it, it simply can't get any worse than this" and I would be proven wrong again and again. Whenever I think about those times, I feel the exact same feelings as though they happened yesterday, yet they also feel like a lifetime ago. Sometimes I'm convinced that it's all just a bad dream, that I'll wake up tomorrow and none of this will be real. Yet, every single day I am faced with the horror that this is real; and I'm going to have to spend the rest of my life getting used to that.

I sit here alone, and there's so many things that I wish I could've said or done differently, and whilst I know that they wouldn't have made any difference, I'm still faced with the overwhelming guilt that they could have. I still feel like you're here, and every time that anything good or bad happens I have to force myself from running upstairs to your bedroom, because although I expect you still to be sat at your desk or lying on your bed (you were such a lazy bum), I'm faced with the crippling realisation that you won't be.

There's so many things I wish I could say, and it's killing me that I can't. I feel lost, and for some reason I'm imagining that you would be able to figure it all out for me. But that's just an idealisation because I know that even if you were still here, you wouldn't be able to. I shut my eyes, and I can still see your face as clear as day, still hear your voice, your laugh and even the horrendous hiccup sound that you used to do, but then I open them and there's just ... nothing. Emptiness. I curse the times when I would shout at you to 'GET OUT OF MY ROOM' because you used to sing too loud and I would now do anything to hear one song again. I laugh at the times when I would hug you and you would pretend that you hated it and push me away (at least I hope you were joking, anyway).

I'm scared because I've changed, I'm not the same person that I was when you were here and it doesn't feel right. All these things I'm experiencing seem wrong when you're not by my side, and I hope more than anything that you're watching over us. I hope you're proud. I'm craving acceptance from you, but you're not here to give it.

See, when people hear the phrase 'Broken Heart' they are quick to associate it with the idea of two lovers going their separate ways - typically one member of the relationship realising that they infatuation they once felt for their significant other is no longer present. Usually 'broken heart' creates the imagery of going long and painful days without being with the person that made your heart race and your veins feel alive, the person who you truly believed, from the bottom of your naive and vulnerable heart, would be there until the end - whenever that may be.

For me, a 'broken heart' is different to that of an 'ordinary' person.

The first time I felt my heart break was a couple of years ago now. It's news that no one ever expects to hear, the kind of news which changes your life forever - in the instance upon hearing it. It's staring at your other family members across the table, wondering whether you've misheard or if it's some kind of sick joke. It's the feeling of the room going from too shocked to speak, to terrified and heartbroken all in the matter of seconds. It's looking at the person who you've spent your whole life with, who you love more than anything else on Earth, as they watch their family fall apart over the betrayal of their body.

Hospitals, I can't even think about them nowadays. I know all too well the smell of disinfectant, the faces of the nurses as they try to be upbeat and jolly in an environment that nobody ever wants to be in. But here was where I met some of the most inspiring people, the kind of people who you know that you will never forget. The people who offered light in the darkest times, I don't think I could ever begin to thank them. Yet they too feel like a distant memory, as though they're characters in a book that I read a long time ago. Because it still doesn't feel real, even after all this time. I think it's because this time last year, I wasn't living. I was going through each day, uncertain as to whether you'd still be here at the end of it. I tried to be strong for so long, which is why I feel so helpless when I get like this. It's as though I've learnt where the 'off' switch is for my emotions, yet the 'on' switch can just be activated at any time.

In the past couple of years, I've felt heartbreak that no one should ever have to feel and it kills me that other people are experiencing this too. I would do anything to take everyone else's sadness away, yet I can't even control my own. There's so much I want to say, but I don't know how to say it. All I know is that right now, I'm missing you more than I ever imagined. It's been 10 months and I get angry that I still feel this way, but I'm not giving myself enough time. I know I won't get over this, that I just have to learn to live with it - I need the bad days in order to truly appreciate the good ones, and don't get me wrong, there's many of them!

I'm sorry if you found this post uncomfortable and tricky to read, but I don't know how else to let this all out. Writing thoughts down helps me make sense of things, and I feel an indescribable relief when I press 'publish' - as if it all goes away when I do. I hate to think that this post has made you sad, but I wanted to show the reality of loss. People, and I'm guilty of it myself, feel as though there's a time limit on grief, and that they should be over it by a certain point of time. The truth is, it doesn't work like that - I wish it did, I really do.

Because this is reality. I'm not writing this because I want sympathy, I'm writing it because I want people to understand. Grief isn't how the portray it in films, or TV shows where one day you just wake up and you're over it. Grief is breaking down at times when you don't expect to, it's being happy all day and then the thoughts that come out once your head hits the pillow at night. It's wanting to be independent, yet being unable to be in the house by yourself without crying until your eyes are red raw, or flinching every time you meet someone new - wondering when the inevitable 'do you have any siblings' question is about to be asked. I want to write about the good things that happen in my life, but I think it's equally important to write about the bad.

I'll see you next week.

Love,
Grace x

My blog is a space where I write about my thoughts and feelings, in order to make sense of them and to stop them from just being inside of my head. I mainly write about things that are important to me, issues that I feel need addressing and pretty much anything that I deem important. However, there has been something that has bothered me for a while now, yet I have always put off writing about it mainly due to the fact that I didn't know whether or not it was too personal, or too out there to publish. After an incident yesterday, I felt that it was the time to write about this - although I would never regard myself as influential in any way, through my blog I know that I have a voice and a platform to address topics which I see as important and may help people understand the impact that they have on other people.

Whilst I'm terrified to post this, the thought that it may be able to help someone, or even make people stop and think before they make a comment that they may see as 'harmless' yet can have more of an effect than they realise, truly motivates me to write and publish this. So ... here we go.

I was never a 'big' child, aside from the expected 'puppy fat' which I developed during my pre/early teens - which, admittedly, I didn't have much of. I've written before about there being a growing pressure on young girls to look a certain way, and I know that this was something that affected me - I remember crying on multiple occasions about the fact that I had put weight on, and it truly would make me feel horrible. As young girls develop into women (although I think I'm still waiting for that to happen... haha) it's expected that they're going to put on a bit of weight - unfortunately we can't wear kids clothes for the rest of our lives (however hard I may try!) - yet it still came as a huge shock to me when I did.

I remember being in my early teens and having constant hang ups about my body - I used to constantly think about how much weight I wanted to lose, and dream about having a toned stomach and shapely arms. However, although I thought this all the time, I never really did anything about it - mainly due to my love for anything of the chocolate variety, and the fact that I'm not the biggest fan of exercise.

As I grew up, my weight levelled out and I developed a figure which was slightly on the smaller side ('the figure of an 11 year old boy' as people like to point out), and I was now faced with being constantly torn between wanting to stay like that, or to gain a few pounds and be more 'womanly'. Yet due to 1) a fast metabolism, 2) being a vegetarian and 3) not having a tremendously big appetite, this never happened. Over the past year, I have lost weight due to understandable reasons, but was on my way to becoming more accepting towards my body and yes, perhaps the 'lack of' assets that I possess. After the incident yesterday, I came home and clicked 'new post' on my Blogger page, and felt the need to rant, just to let everything out, admittedly to save me from keeping it all in my head and it leading onto a bigger issue.

Here you go;

I'm writing this because I've had enough. At the time that I am currently writing this, I have come home after experiencing a situation where I was made to feel like complete and utter rubbish about myself - in particular, my body. For some reason, as of recently, people have felt the need to comment on my figure, and I'm SICK OF IT. For many people saying things like 'oh, you're so tiny' or 'I think you could do with putting a bit of weight' is deemed okay, and is apparently meant to be taken as a compliment - which, if I'm perfectly honest, I'm still trying to figure out how that could be. If I was to turn round and say to someone 'oh, you're so big' or 'I think you could do with losing a bit of weight' (which I would never ever EVER dream of saying to someone, but let's just look at this from a hypothetical point of view) it would most definitely not be deemed as socially acceptable or okay in any shape or form, so why do different rules apply to people who are on the smaller side?

Body confidence is something that is becoming well recognised and celebrated, yet I honestly do believe that people need a bit of help with understanding the meaning of this. Body confidence shouldn't just be about praising people with curves or even attempting to make them feel better by pointing out how 'disgusting' it is when people's hipbones stick out. Once you really look into it, some of the things you find are so utterly insulting - an example being 'Real Men Go For Curves, Only Dogs Like Bones' - as if we should somehow put on weight to complete our lifelong quest to find a 'real man', it truly is just ridiculous. I think body confidence should be more about celebrating every body, regardless of your shape or size, and less about comparing the two in order to make someone feel better - because, realistically, you're just making another person feel worse. There's been countless occasions where I've felt good in an outfit, and then had a comment said about my weight - which has resulted in me going and covering up in a big jumper or, my favourite thing EVER, my dressing gown.

I think it's a universal truth that we all want what we can't have, whether we admit that or not. Whilst I would like to blame people's comments on jealousy or whatnot, I still don't think that it can be excused - would we be so desperate to find an explanation if it were aimed at someone who was a bit larger? What I find particularly sad is that I can honestly say that I don't know anyone who's happy and confident with their body, and I wish that I could change that - yet I know for a fact that the way to go about this isn't by looking at other body shapes and comparing yours in a more positive light, it should be about remembering the fact that every body (&everybody) is beautiful in their own way - regardless of whether they're a size 4 or a size 40.

To be kind and respectful towards others, we firstly need to start with ourselves. Instead of looking in the mirror and thinking about what you'd like to change about yourself, how about you instead focus on what you like about yourself? If you're struggling with that, read this quote by Shane Koyczan, one of my all time favourite spoken word poets;

I'm sorry for the long rant, but I felt like it was time to address this. It's 2017, and people are still commenting negatively on other people's body types, and I'm fed up with it. How about before you say anything, even if you mean it in a nice way, you take a couple of seconds to think and process what you are actually about to say - starting by putting yourself in the other persons shoes and thinking about how you would feel if they were to say it to you. There's so so much more to a person than just how they look but, speaking from experience, it does feel absolutely awful when people make comments about your appearance. So, for now, how about we practise self love and self care, and then project that towards other people?

I hope you enjoyed (??) this blog post, and I'll see you next week.

Love,
Grace x