I'm Lisha.
[That is my real name, it's not shortened.]
Miss Lisha Blackhurst.
Ironically, with this year being my first out of education for 16 years, it has been the most educational time of my life. Despite knowing full well that every friend, family member and foe will glance upon this section at some point, I will continue, as I, as always, have nothing to hide.
Last November, I moved out with my best friend David Skinner.
I love my house, it is beautiful, but all it has managed to do it make me long to pour my heart and soul into it. As it is a temporary living situation, and I am a mere gap year student, I shall have to wait a few years for this dream to become a reality. It has also, I feel, destroyed a friendship that I fear may never be rectified, not to be untarnished as it once was. But, living apart from my family has made me realise how much my Mum has influenced me. After years of incessant battles with her, she is now my idol, my closest friend, and I now realise the years of arguments were down to the fact we are almost the same person. Now, what I as a melodramatic 15 year old saw as the bane of my existence, has become the rock that gets me through the day. I love her with all my heart, and I know she knows I am and always will be there for her as much as she is for me.
The same goes for my younger sister Deanna. Often I struggle to remember how it once was living under my Mum’s roof, and how arguments can go from bad to horrific at times, and I find it difficult to know who is in the right, and who to side with. But we are all best friends really. Sprawled out on the sofa, stuffing our faces with mass amounts of chocolate whilst giggling away watching a rather gruesome documentary on penis enlargements, I pipe up with “I wish we could just sit here forever, in our Pjs getting fat and it wouldn’t matter because no one would ever see us but us.” And that was refering to the company I was in, not the chocolate, or in fact the documentary subject! We all possess the same ridiculous sense of humour, we always show ourselves up every public place we go to, even hospital waiting rooms. And it’s fun, it really is.
Then of course, there are my friends. The few people I hold close to my heart are there for a reason. And they were difficult to find! I have found I keep most at a safe distance. I have met many spiteful, immature people who I do not wish to associate with. I do not discriminate; I have friends of all different ages and backgrounds, it’s surprising where you can find a good person to talk to. But I can also recognise those not worth my time in an instant. I am happy with everyone in my life, so if someone insists on being difficult, it’s no skin off my nose. I’ll fight for myself in a heartbeat if I need to. Recently I was to surprised to learn this was more literal than I first realised. I have no regrets. I have met liars, gossips, cheats, and that’s just the men.
With men, perhaps one of the problems is, I enjoy sex. I am open about the subject, not in a vulgar sense, but I am not embarrassed about any experience I have had. I don’t think there is anything wrong with that. Far too much emphasis has been put upon the importance of sex. We don’t live in a religious society any longer, so why girls are still branded as sluts is beyond me. I treat sex casually, if two single consenting adults wish to have sex, and it is recognised by both parties as just sex, then why the hell not. It’s when the game playing begins it all gets difficult. I am an intelligent young women, and to be honest, I know what I am doing, thank you.
I have learnt that I am the girl you fuck around with between relationships before you find the sweet good-natured little darling to fall in love with. And you know what? That’s ok. Because who’s to say I wanted a relationship anyway. I just like to know where I stand, and apparently that’s often too much to ask.
Working fulltime has also opened my eyes. Of course, it is only Morrisons. I don’t take it seriously, and unfortunately, that’s where the trouble begins. The store is riddled with gossip, “office politics” to the third degree. As I work nights, defending myself is out of the question. The truth always comes out in the end, but when the lies are being passed at lightening speed from hungry little mouths, its hard to keep up. I’m at my wits end at half the shit people can believe. I see many unhappy people there, falling victim to brutal Chinese whispering. And then I witness others basking in their misery, the excitement of another disease to infect the system the next day. There is nothing to tax the mind, the work is repetitive, and I honestly cannot wait to leave it behind.
For now, it’s a case of working out what happens once this year has ended. Living with a friend has enabled me to realised I’m far too selfish to live with anyone again if possible. Where that leaves me, I’m not too sure. Starting up my driving lessons again, continuing with my tattoos whilst I still have the money, and continuing to write and draw like I always have are things I will press on with until September rolls around to kick me in the butt and force me to get my arse into gear.