“I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” - Maya Angelou

 

This started out as a couple lines about me that I thought were relevant, and over time I’ve added to it and now it’s just a mess of things I think people should know, it probably doesn’t really sum me up the way I’d like it to, but whatever, I always write too much in these kind of things.

My name is Maria, I am 18, and I live in London, England. 
I like things that make me feel happy to be alive.

I’m generally pretty confused about what I want out of life, but I’m passionate about things, some of the time, and I think that’s important.

I’ve lived most of my life in London until summer 2012 when I moved to Norway to go to a Folk High School, it’s like a boarding school kind of thing where I was taking an art course and a Norwegian language course, although I never really managed to pick any of the language up. I made some of the best friends of my life there and I even fell in love, and then a lot of shit happened and I ended back here in London around February.. So now I don’t really know what I’m doing. My end goal is to move back to Norway I think, if I can figure out a way to make it happen, because the people I love most are all still there.. But for now I’m just kind of figuring things out I guess, or atleast telling myself that that’s what I’m doing, I don’t really know what I want to do when I’m older, but I want to do something that makes me happy.

I’ve decided that no matter what happens, I’m going to do everything I possibly can to be happy. I’m going to make sure I get the most out of life, because despite all the bullshit and whatever, life is beautiful and I think the worst thing anyone can do is waste it and not appreciate the fact that you’re alive on a planet floating in space, and that’s fucking amazing no matter how shit you think your life is. 

I don’t think I really act any different from anyone else my age. I used to drink a lot but then I fucked up my stomach and I don’t really see the point anymore. I regret how much of my life I wasted getting drunk and I hate the person I used to be when I did. So now I stick to smoking and I try not to be a bad person but sometimes I can’t help it. The person I eventually live with will probably hate me because all I do is mope around all day.
And when I say person, I mean cats.

I have an unhealthy obsession with art in all its forms, I’m obsessed with paintings and films and photography. I love spending the day at galleries and museums, art makes me feel inspired in a way that nothing else can. I have about 17 disposable cameras lying around that I’ll probably never develop. I stay up all night painting things that I’ll then put in a pile with all my other paintings and never look at again. Creating things, anything, ugh, I can’t describe how it makes me feel to be honest. I think art is the most wonderful thing in the world.

I used to say that I don’t believe in love, then I went to my grandparents 50th wedding anniversary when I was about 16 and I don’t see how I could ever have thought that it doesn’t exist. 
Love is beautiful and I find myself falling in love with something new every single day.

I read a lot. Books are probably my favourite thing in the world. I worry sometimes that I’ll never fall in love because I prefer the characters in books to real people. I take what I read way too seriously. I fall in love with characters, and I relate more to people who don’t really exist than my closest friends, and I’m miserable if I don’t have a book to read. I’ve started about 5 of my own, and always lacked the inspiration to get anywhere past halfway. 

I’m terrified that I’m wasting my life, I think mostly because I know that really I could be doing anything at all, but for some reason I’m not, and it scares me because what if this is what the rest of my life turns out to be like? But then I tell myself that I’m wrong, and then I dream, and I look forward to the future, instead of looking back on the past. I plan on making it everything I’ve ever wanted, even if I’m not entirely sure what that is yet.

Death fascinates and terrifies me. I could say more about this. I could talk about how I think about killing myself every single day, but probably never will. I could talk about how scared I am of anyone I love dying and am scared I’ve jinxed it just by typing that out.. But, I don’t know. Talking about things is difficult, and I guess a bit pointless when I’m just writing all this up for a stupid page on my blog.

I am neurotic, I know that, and as hard as I try not to let it control my life, it does, but I guess I’m dealing with it. And I know eventually things will get better. 
I strongly believe “everything will be okay in the end, if it’s not okay it’s not the end”, things like that, it makes me feel a tiny bit less scared about the fact one day I will die and I just won’t exist anymore. (This passage from one of my favourite books probably explains what I mean a lot better than I ever could)

There is more, there is always more, but I guess for now this sums it all up.

“Just trust me, and we can wipe it all away, all the pain, all the cruelty, all the bereavement, we can start again”

…and she sobs, like the child she is, sobs because at long last, her nightmare is over.