Monday, 29 March 2010


My ninth velvet box, opened.
Inside, lies the precious few memories I have when I was genuinely happy. This box is small, and the contents are scarce. Maybe that's because I have a bad memory for happy things, perhaps its because much of my childhood is alien to me. I honestly don't remember a lot. I remember my trip to America, when I was four. I remember... the first time I did a dance exam, and I got the highest mark out of my whole dance school. I was seven. I received a mark of 92 out of 100. I remember... my first day, walking through the doors of Sylvia Young, at the tender age of eleven. I remember the day I found out I even got in to Sylvia's. That has to be the happiest moment of my life. Ironic, really. Because since, its caused nothing but pain. And apart from that, there are no real happy moments in my life. A few, small ones. And okay, a few more big ones. But I'll include them in their boxes There's no point putting them in here. And anyway, This box was always going to be small. Much of my life that I remember is recent. And that makes it sad, the vast majority.
I will keep this box, small as its contents are. I'll keep the few memories I have left of this box close to my heart, so that I do not lose any more.
Nine velvet boxes, open and redundant.
LoveLoveLove x

Sunday, 21 March 2010


My eighth velvet box, opened.
Inside, lies the golden, perfect, undamaged memory, of none other than the beautiful Johnny Bishop. The memory lives and thrives within the walls of this velvet box, bouncing around, never really at rest. Its always fighting to get out, to wheedle its way back into my heart and to course through my veins once more, to poison my head with thoughts I shouldn't be thinking about him.
Where can I possibly start with Jonathan Bishop. Johnny... was my rock. He was the one who pulled me through my entire Piers crisis, after he left and I was lost. He was the one who didn't judge me. He understood everything I was going through. He helped me control myself in those first few weeks of denial, the next few months of depression, and the final few years of acceptance. He was selfless, and beautiful in himself, and so innocent, in a way. He's 16 now, but he's so focused on his career. He doesn't care about girls, or relationships, and it shows, because when he dances, he leaves me breathless. I find myself picking him out of a crowd of 50 people and watching him the whole time. And its no secret, and never will be any different: I loved Johnny, and I always will love Johnny. For everything he did for me, and so, so much more. For the way he never looks down on anybody for anything, and the way he always supports people in all of their decisions. The way he is just so... Johnny. There aren't words really to describe how magical he is. An angel, sent from God, to take everyone under his wing. That, is how I shall remember Johnny Bishop.
I need to lock this velvet box. As much as it will always be true, I can't love him, its not rational. And as much as love is irrational all the time, this is just too irrational for me. I shall always love you, Johnny Bishop. And for what its worth, for all the times you've helped me over the years, for every beautiful love song and tear wiped away from my red cheeks, I thank you and assure you that if ever you need someone to be there, or a shoulder to cry on; even someone to love, I will be there. I will be your home, like you've been for me these past few years. Last thing I want to say, is:
Thank you, so, so much.
Eight velvet boxes, open and redundant.
LoveLoveLove x

Saturday, 20 March 2010


My seventh velvet box, opened.
This box used to be precious to me, it used to hold everything my heart desired. But then it faded, became something I didn't like to think about. Inside, lies the memory of Michael Parsons. Its tattered and torn now. It barely resembles anything. I can't take much from it anymore, everything is blurry. I remember, once, you liked me back. You really liked me back. There was a two year age gap, and I was young, year 6. I was 10, and the hands of love had already poisoned me. How awful. You were year 8, about 12 or 13. It wasn't so bad for you. You were feeling good about it, and so was I, at first. Then you left school for about six months. And I missed you. During this time, everyone at school managed to find out about my crush on you. But you weren't that stupid, no, you didn't tell anyone, you kept it a secret. You carried on liking me in year 9. When I was year 7. It was no secret by then. Everyone was telling you about it. I got so embarrassed, and so did you. You stopped liking me about then, but I carried on, blind to how awful you were. You never spoke to me, you were always so different with me. In tap, you would always talk to me. Outside in the corridor, sometimes you would say hello, other times you would completely blank me. You text me saying you loved me on December 19th, 2007. What a load of shit that was. But I thought it was true at the time, and out on a limb in March 2008, in a desperate attempt to make you love me, wrote you a two page letter. It got read to 60 people in the yard. Oh dear. Worst day of my life. People still mention it now. I walked into maths crying my eyes out. Poor Mr. Smyth, he had to sit there and watch his favourite pupil bawl as if her family had died. That was what it felt like. My life was over. Three months later, I find out that it was actually Michael read it to the yard. Any feelings of affection that still remained were cut off right then. I couldn't believe that you had made fun of my love. You found it so hilarious that you just had to tell everyone? What the hell? then you left. I didn't care. I still don't. Yet, out of all the pain you caused me, and as much as I still hate you, and think how you used me and abused me was wrong, I still respect you. And I bet, if I saw you today, right this second, my stomach would jump for you. I would fall for you again. If only a bit, I know I would.
I wish I had it in me to get rid of these memories, few and perforated as they are, but I can't seem to do it. I'm too attached to them, they mean too much to me. They hold too much emotion to throw away. So I'll keep them. But only for now.
LoveLoveLove x

Monday, 15 March 2010


My sixth velvet box, opened.
Inside, lies every crush I had, when I was still a girl. All the boys I took into my heart.
  • Alex Brown: The tall lanky one who had really spiky hair and was a real sweetie to me. I was young. He was cute. Can you blame me? The crush lasted about three weeks, if that.
  • Patrick Harper: Wowza. Could the boy dance or what. He left me speechless when he danced. We travelled together for a while. And he was so funny, and beautiful in an unusual way. Crush lasted a while. Cannot put a time frame to it.
  • Harrison Webb: Well well. The absolutely stunning boy. Immature? Yes. But he was so beautiful. He had the deepest brown eyes, and lightly spiked hair, and he was so nice to me, and he was funny, and he gave good hugs... Crush lasted about two months.
  • Bertie Gilbert: My emo spongebob, as I liked to call him :) He is the cutest shade of blonde, and he has beautiful blue eyes. And he is so dirty-sexy-funny, in a cute way :) crush is ongoing, at the bottom of my heart.
  • Jerome Davies: The sleazy ginger who only cares about himself and sex. To put it bluntly. But underneath all the hair, and the stupid facade, he is such a nice person. I'm blessed to have seen that side of him. Crush lasted half a year.
  • Nathan Clark: Clarkie! My gorgeous, caring, thoughtful friend. Wowza. He always helped me without any sort of complaint. And he is so innocent, despite being two years my senior. Crush lasted a solid two years.
  • Karim Zeroual: The heartless playa' who thinks he's a rudeboy and lives in Notting Hill. Yeah. Like that fits in a sentence together. But when you're on your own with him, he turns into this nice, funny, respectable guy. Crush lasted about a year and a half.
  • Nathan Sykes: Well. He was just a sex beast and a half. I was so gutted when he left school, he became like my brother. And he was so hilarious, in a really depressing way, which made it all the funnier. Crush lasted about a year.
  • Shea Davis: The blonde, short one who always seemed to take joy in mocking my nickname because it corresponded with my bust size (DD, for those of you who don't know). He was funny. And made me laugh with how raucous he was. Crush lasted two years.
  • Sam Harris: Relationship actually succeeded with this one. Not long though. Blonde, short, immature, and completely unreliable. But he stole my heart, if only for a while. I gave up asking for it back when I realised it belonged there. Love ongoing, it fades every now and then.

And that's it. I'll keep this box. Its got so many good memories in it.
Six velvet boxes, open and redundant.
LoveLoveLove x

Thursday, 11 March 2010


My fifth velvet box, opened.
Inside... lies every reason I hate SYTS. Its not the place, the place is amazing. Its the people. The people confuse me, they're bitchy and nice at the same time. They don't seem to have any consideration for anyone else's feelings, and they think they are the best thing since sliced bread. But you can always count on them to listen to you and give you a good laugh. I walk into that building, and I see a web of lies and deceit, created by these alien-like humans, and you, the normal one, have to try and battle your way through the disgusting sagacity to try and get to the truth laying underneath. The people never have a second thought for other people and they don't seem to care if they completely humiliate you.
But then you get those rarities. Where someone will come along and be that compassionate human being, who only cares for others. And that's what he was. And now, every day, when I walk through those corridors, when I walk into the studios and past the noticeboards, I see him everywhere. The place in the ground floor where we would always meet to talk, or wait to go on a job together. That desk, in G2, with your name scrawled across it. Time and time again, I've tried to erase it, but it never seems to fade. Even the outside of the building, where I see you standing there for the last time. All of it draws back such strong memories. That is why I hate SYTS. Because everyday, I walk into that haven, and all I see is pain. I see missed opportunities and lies I added to the web. I see... so much sadness and confusion. I will always walk into that building and see those things.
For that reason, I think I need to rid myself of this box. Its unnecessary; I know it'll always exist. Its inevitable that my memories of you consist of specific places in that building, and there is nothing I can do about it.
Five velvet boxes, open and redundant.
LoveLoveLove x

Friday, 5 March 2010


My fourth velvet box, opened.
Inside, lies all the anger and frustration I've ever felt over my life. All the little things, like how my day always gets ruined by something, or how Jack always flicks his head to fix his hair. Its the most aggravating action in the world, I assure you. Or the way Shanz will go to kiss me, but then he'll look away.
But, mainly, its frustration and anger over how stupidly complicated my life is. Its ridiculous. I can't even understand half of it. Its the worst thing in the world; walking blind through your own life. I can't see anything. I don't know anything, not really. My life is like one of those puzzles, where you have a thousand sticks, all piled on top of each other, splayed in different directions, and you have to figure out which one to pick up without disturbing any others. Only difference is, I can't find the right stick to pick up anywhere. I always pick the wrong one, and tangle them up even more. So my life gets worse and worse, and when I try to un-complicate it, I make the whole thing worse.
But the worst part of this box, the most frustrating thing in my life, is that I am misunderstood, by many people, on different levels. For people who know I cut, they class me as emo and suicidal. For people who know my sadness, they class me as the sad, depressed one. For people who only see the happy side of me, I'm the good little church girl who can do no wrong and lives in a world of rainbows and unicorns. For people who don't know me, I'm the trustworthy advice giver. But they're all wrong.
Because all I am, is a mask, cut out from a fairy story of what I was trying to be. All I really am, is a shell, a host to many different Deanna's, but not a single original copy. I'm empty, and lifeless, and not sure of where I'm going, or what I'm doing, or what the purpose of my being on this Earth is. So, for the people who think they know me; they don't. By a long shot, they are so far off, they could be on Pluto; the lonely little planetoid circling the universe, cursed to spend his life alone. I am cold. Empty. Lifeless. Alone. Scrunched up in a ball, somewhere in my heart, scared. And that girl inside is worth very little.
I don't think I like this box. I'm going to get rid of it. Its too... angry, too fiery for my liking. Too truthful, perhaps.
Four velvet boxes, open and redundant.
LoveLoveLove x