You can laugh, but I don’t care.

People think I don’t know when they’re making fun of me. But I know. I just no longer care.

I know I’m a bit weird. Quirky. Odd. Strange. I don’t always pick up on irony and sarcasm, I too often take things too seriously and believe stuff that’s not true. I’m book smart, theoretical, and don’t always understand right away how some of the things that are obvious to a lot of people work. With a lot of things, I’m a bit slow, and I need things spelled out to me.

But I know when I’m being made fun of, laughed at behind my back… I know it. I’m aware that it happens.

But here’s the thing. The thing is, I don’t care about it. If people have nothing better to do than make fun of me, then I feel sorry for them. If that’s what they want to spend their time on, then that’s their time being wasted, their life. I’m not gonna waste my time caring about it, because I lose so much precious time that way. Life may be long, but it might be short. We never know how much time we’re gonna get and I don’t want to waste mine. I want to focus on doing things that are good for me, that bring joy to my soul. I don’t want to care about people who have negative opinions about me.

And I want to share a poem with you. It’s one of my favourite pieces of writing, I’ve copied it down so many times, and I might have shared it on my blog before, but I wanted to share it again:

I love being horribly straightforward. I love sending reckless text messages (because how reckless can a form of digitized communication be?) and telling people I love them and telling people they are absolutely magical humans and I cannot believe they really exist. I love saying, Kiss me harder, and You’re a good person, and, You brighten my day. I live my life as straight-forward as possible.

Because one day, I might get hit by a bus.

Maybe it’s weird. Maybe it’s scary. Maybe it seems downright impossible to just be—to just let people know you want them, need them, feel like, in this very moment, you will die if you do not see them, hold them, touch them in some way whether its your feet on their thighs on the couch or your tongue in their mouth or your heart in their hands.

But there is nothing more beautiful than being desperate.

And there is nothing more risky than pretending not to care.

We are young and we are human and we are beautiful and we are not as in control as we think we are. We never know who needs us back. We never know the magic that can arise between ourselves and other humans.

We never know when the bus is coming.”

—Rachel C. Lewis, Tell The People You Love That You Love Them

Xoxo

Julie

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Just Not My Night

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! Or, it’s 2am here, I don’t know how you greet people at 2am… Anyway, story time! 

Today was supposed to be a good day. I watched some TV, called my boyfriend, ordered plane and train tickets to visit him, and then I was supposed to visit a friend who turned in her Master’s thesis today. 

On my way out of the door, however, my beloved Hedwig key chain from the Platform 9 3/4 shop at Kings Cross Station in London, broke. 

And now I can’t get my key back on it at all. I’m considering putting it all in a ziplock bag and taking it with me when I go there at the end of the month, since I only bought it a few months ago, and ask if it would be possible to exchange it for a new one, since I’ve not been abusing it and it just snapped, which it shouldn’t, considering their stuff is quite pricey. Can’t hurt to ask anyway, worst they can do is say no… 

All was well at my friend’s house, we made cupcakes and had a lovely time. She gave me a present for helping her proofreading: a bottle of Riesling white wine with butterflies on the bottle, and three books she knows I’ve been wanting for over a year: The Selection, The Elite, and The One. I’ve read them on my Kindle, but I really enjoyed them and they’re so pretty. I really didn’t expect it – I would’ve been happy with a tub of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. But I’m beyond happy with my present! As I was packing my stuff to leave, she asked if I wanted a plastic bag, but I said I was alright because I had my handbag. In hindsight, I should’ve accepted the bag. 

I’d only walked a few houses down her street, when the shoulder strap on my handbag snapped. The bag hit the ground, and the wine bottle smashed, all over the stuff I had in it. Since it was nearly 1am and not a soul was in sight, I left my stuff and ran back to my friend’s house, knocking frantically on her door. I briefly explained what had happened and she gave me a plastic bag. I ran back. My handbag was full of wine and broken glass, but I managed to get all of my stuff out and into the plastic bag. I carried the handbag all the way home, stopped under a street lamp to make sure I’d got all my stuff out, and then threw it in the trash. 

The books my friend gave me were mostly intact – just a little bit of damage to the edges, mostly due to the other wet stuff in the plastic bag, as they had been wrapped in the wrapping paper when the bottle smashed. Everything else, however, was soaked. My wallet, the little bag I keep my most essential essential oils in, a pack of ibuprofen, sunglasses, powerbank (portable charger), and the bullet journal I’ve only been using for a month. My oils were fine, it’s been proven before that it’s apparently not easy to smash Young Living bottles! My compact powder looked completely untouched, I threw out the powder puff thingy though – it was cheap and from H&M so no huge loss there. Everything else has been rinsed out, and I didn’t have any cash, only cards. It remains to be seen if they will work tomorrow. My powerbank will probably need to be thrown out as I’ll need to get a new one, but I’ll consult my brother tomorrow. I once had an iPod that survived a washing machine and worked for years after, so we’ll see. 

Worst off, then, was my bullet journal, especially this week’s spread and next week’s, that I only made earlier today. 

The following two pages don’t look so great either, so I guess I’ll just skip those, or write this story on them, or something. 

The strap of my handbag was already one being shared by two different bags, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that it broke. But I guess it was about time to get a new one now, then, anyway. It sucks that I’ll probably need a new powerbank, and that I lost a bottle of wine and one of the two CapriSuns I had in my purse, but my books are okay and and the rest of my bullet journal isn’t so bad – it’s mostly just the few pages around where my pen had been left inside it. My pen still works. Everything else will be fine. Depending on the wine smell, I might need to get a new wallet, but that one was old anyway. 

And I’m okay, and thats what’s important, my boyfriend said. Poor thing, I woke him up by calling him after this happened, and he didn’t sleep much last night or today. I feel bad. But I also feel grateful to have someone like him in my life, someone I want to call while walking home in the middle of the night, being upset and annoyed, carrying a handbag full of broken glass and wine. Someone who answers when I call because they know I’m calling because I need to talk to them. Sure, some crappy things happened in the last few hours, but I also spent it with and talking to wonderful people, and for that I am grateful. 

Until next time, 

~ Julie