HeLL hEre.....

Remember what it was like when I felt lost? Remember what it was like when I wondered what the outcome would be? That was this time last year…

Thank goodness I’m not there anymore. Thank goodness I now feel it was worth it. I’m so glad I have answers at last. I’m so glad I don’t feel ashamed of myself anymore. And at last I can sleep.

Part two of Mayhem is due out any day now, and Retail (working title) is almost up and running. I’m glad I didn’t see either of the endings coming to those - that would mean readers would, and that simply won’t do. I can’t even know the ending, it should be a shock to me too.

M X

P.S All we need sometimes to make us feel better, is a little hindsight.

It’s still in construction, but I’m most happy with it so far!

http://www.rjharry.co.uk/

I feel all grown up now I have a website!!!

Love to all,

LP X

I had to get this down. I haven’t written for some time, as I’ve not really had anything to decorate a page with but, last night, I found something. In my dreams.

You see, I was with him. And it was so glorious, but so heartbreaking. And I dream about him, about once a month, and each time, it upsets me for a week afterwards.

Let me tell you what happened.

He looked different to how he was when I knew him. Older, better defined. More confident. And, for some odd reason, we met up at a swimming pool. But I wasn’t in my country. Where we were, I’m unsure. And the swimming pool was more like an outdoor leisure complex and, we were both alone.

So, we splashed and spoke all day and all I can remember, thinking back, was that I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful. His face, his mouth, the shape of him seemed perfectly moulded, as if for only me to admire. As if he was built to fit me and I him.

Whilst in the water, we did things…..secret things that thrilled both of us, but things we had done before, but never so blissful as with each other. I looked up at his face and he seemed exhilarated, ecstatic.

And then it was time to go home.

We sat together, travelling away from this place, hair both soaking, our faces flushed, and rosy. And this…..what was said next I shall never forget.

I said, “You know…..I’m thinking….we should have never parted.”

And he looked at me with such adoration, such sorrow, and replied,

“I’m thinking that, you were the love of my life.”

And then something really odd happened.

He fell. He fell in a awkward, unnatural way and, he broke his arm - his right one. It was so severe that, I could see his bone poking through. And he looked at me with such fear.

And then I sat up, in the dark, and he’d gone.

Again.

M X

P.S If only you could pull things out….

I saw a fox by the rabbit hole,
You saw a prince from a fairy tale,
He promised that he'd watch over you…
…and turned out to be the fox we all knew.

You've got to be true, what chance did you stand?
Teeth white, tall tail, get out while you can!

Run rabbit run, as fast as you can. Don’t look back.

He’ll dance to your beat, and steal your heart...
…And smile with those teeth - then tear you apart…

Hounds and the hills you danced up the brook ??
That way you survive, ‘till there’s nothing left…

Run rabbit run, as fast as you can.

Don’t look back.

Don’t look back.

M X

P.S Thank you H.

Just for a while. But….I wanted to leave a few thoughts about what I have done…So…..

For anyone who has stared up, heart thudding as the band take their places on-stage, their silhouettes glowing in the darkness…For anyone who loves boys who wear eyeliner…For anyone would feels angered that only ever boys seem to make it big in the music industry, and only ever a handful of women….For anyone who’s ever wondered, what do they talk about in private?…For anyone who has ever wanted to get back-stage….For anyone who wants to play ‘spin the bottle’ with their favourite band…For anyone who likes social commentary…For anyone who likes lines from songs…For anyone who has a dark sense of humour…and, for anyone, who has stared up wide-eyed and dared themselves to ask the question…I wonder what would happen if me fell in love with me…?

It was done for you…

Toodle-pip for now……

P.S For the ones closet to me, you know where to find me.

You know, I was thinking. I think I like the idea that, sometimes I feel utterly nutterly.

It’s then when I seem to be capable of the things I’m most proud of. It’s almost as if, I have to be that way.

But at the moment, the world seems quiet. As if the calm before the storm. I love storms. Thunder-bolt and lightening very very frightening.

And I sense change. Immanent change. And in that I mean me, and all those around me. I think there is going to be some kind of a ‘shift’.

I feel it in my bones.

Funny, I wonder if I shall look back on this journal one day and see I was right?

I’m confident I will.

I have an uncanny knack for writing things that happen. So that would be my power if I were a superhero…(come to think of it, I could actually BE one and am only just realising; I did lose both parents tragically when I was young; that seems to be the first ‘rule’ with superherodom).

Just think, in the wrong hands, such a skill could be turned very bad, and used to the holder’s advantage, even though it wouldn’t benefit others.

So, what should I do……shall I stay good….or shall I use this for my own personal gain…?

M X

P.S Good methinks. I wasn’t born bad - I’m just drawn that way…..

Today I felt compelled to write this down…why I’m unsure.

As I walked though town, alone at lunchtime, I felt melancholy; like a failure. I’m sure we’ve all done this but, for some reason I beat myself up about it if ever I feel this way.

So…I decided to make a pledge.

If I ever become a success, to such a point that I make a large some of money, I’m going to give some away (my mother always used to say that enough is as good as a feast - I think this is true).

But not to just anyone.

No.

I’m going to give it to someone who deserves it (it’s always been a fantasy of mine to do this).

What I shall do is, I shall watch people, girls working in shops, bars, and I shall find someone who, through life’s misfortune, has not had any luck thus far, and cannot be what they have always dreamed because of bad circumstance….funny, I know a lot of people like this (I’m sure we all do).

I shall then just walk up to them, and present them with a cheque for £100,000.

I shall say, that they must use the money to educate themselves, start a business, or travel to a place they have always wished to go.

I would love to do this, and dream of it often.

You see, the thing is, I think, feel, know, that sometimes people just deserve a break.

I think that sometimes, people should be sprinkled with magic dust….and I’d love to be the one to do that to someone.

I’d love to see the look on their face.

Then, it would have been worth it.

M X

I think I can say, with utter conviction, and if you knew me you would know I wouldn’t say this lightly, that, if what happened to her, had happened to me, I would have killed myself. I could not have lived with it. Could not have lived anymore.

I’ll let you into a little secret shall I? Early on in this year, I told my sister, and only my sister, that I wanted to kill myself. And seriously, I was considering it. And that sort of thing, really isn’t me or, like me to say that.

You see, I felt so, so sick of feeling desperate. Desperate for answers, desperate for success, recognition, and most of all, for someone to look me in the eyes, and tell me that, they knew how I felt, as they felt the same way too. And I’d believe it when they told me too. But up to now, no one ever has.

I think that, as a girl, I never realised just how complex feelings can be, how painful, from an adult female. I wish my mother would have warned me. Sometimes I lay around and look down at myself, and wonder how having this shape, this wondrous, glorious shape, can make me feel such emptiness; indeed, sometimes I can’t believe I inhabit it.

Anyway, needless to say, I didn’t do it, as I’m here typing.

The reason why I didn’t is…my sister’s response was, to imagine her reaction, upon finding out that her only remaining family member was dead and, she’d done it to herself too.

So…I guess, that’s the reason I’m still here. I love my sister, more that it hurts to be alive sometimes.

RJH X

Hello All,

I’m gradually moving across to MySpace so, please feel free to add me, message me, or do whatever you wish with me over there!!!

Look forward to seeing you!!!

Kisses,

M X

P.S I posted a URL on this page!!!

Just to mention to anyone who liked any of my journals….my first book is out now!

It’s being previewed on Amazon UK…

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Mayhem-Angels-R-J-Harry/dp/1434386252/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1217276520&sr=1-1

And US….

http://www.amazon.com/Mayhem-Angels-R-J-Harry/dp/1434386252/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1217276624&sr=8-1

I’m saying this a little earlier than I should but….if one person happens to read it, and loves it….it was worth doing.

And now I’m off to write my next one.

Much love to all.

M X

P.S Thank you to all who helped me with this; you know who you are….

I cannot shift this melancholy. Someone told me today, that I had been different all week. My response was, was that it was because I had lost my faith. All faith; any faith I’ve ever had. I know what it means now to be a woman. It is:

To stare envy in the face and smile, despite its searing burn across my stomach. To realise that I am not special. To see my future, which was mapped out for me from birth. And to accept it, to give in. To realise I am a psycho, and that my actions are not fair. To know it was all for nothing. To understand it was all in my head. To realise that, there is no magic, fairies do not exist and, my life as I thought it maybe was, was actually, just another story. Ha! I really am a fucking author. I seem to make things up. But this feeling….I can’t shake it.

Perhaps I should care about fashion, and celebrity gossip. Perhaps I should think about ringtones and looking like ‘everybody else’. Perhaps I should be blind. Perhaps I should dye my hair brown, and wear a grey suit. I don’t know what would pain me more.

Fact of the matter is, is that, I thought I had something in my hand. But I haven’t. And, I feel like I’m alone; I know I will never meet anyone like me and, I feel the need to share for once, with someone who ‘gets it’.

I think a shrink would if I paid them enough.

I feel like I’m being punished; as if purgatory.

It’s the only explanation I can think of.

Whomever I am today. XXX

I often think I am somewhere between, a lip-glossed gothic glamour-puss, and a psychotic. I was aware of that, even from being a little girl.

Now, first and foremost, the thing that I am, is a writer. It’s not something I do, it’s something I am. And, I also work in the publishing industry. Publish by day, write it by night. It’s very strange. And, what I might add is, irony of irony is that, the publishing industry almost put me off publishing my work. If you let it, it can ruin you. It’s the egos you see. The ones who think it fit to forward an opinion that is warranted, or needed. Ha! Normally these people are failed writers themselves. But what does ‘failed writer’ mean? I’m certainly not failed and, I haven’t even sold one book yet. I’m not failed, because I’m able to draw people in. I think this is something you are born with, and you can’t learn it.

Yes, I’ve had many withering looks from people high-up within the literary world - looks that said, “So, you’re a writer darling….Isn’t everyone?”

Yes, I’ve seen that. Saw it last week in fact.

So, I think what I’m trying to say is this:

No one, will ever tell me I’m not good enough. And no one, should ever tell you that either. The only opinion that is valid, is that one person, who read your work, and was utterly blown away by it.

And I’ve had that - so it was worth writing and now, I shall never be a failure.

M X

I feel like, perhaps, my thoughts on a certain matter are drawing to a close. For so long, so achingly, hauntingly long, I would sit and stare out at the sky and search in the stars for an answer. But despite my desperate questioning, regardless of my demanding gaze, the stars didn’t reply.

When I think of it, I feel as if I don’t have tears enough for how I feel about this. Sometimes I feel like my life, this life, is only ever something that I wrote from somewhere, out there, somewhere where I feel less alone, less, halved.

When I was little, my mother told me a story. I’m sure you’ll know it well. The tale of the princess, good, fair, noble, but trapped, locked in a tower; in my case, a tower of her own making. If she believed, and was clever and kind, her prince would come, climb the tower and carry her away to live happily ever after. The End.

Problem was, I didn’t like the prince. I never believed that one person could be so good or that, I should place emphasis on the idea that one sole individual can be the answer to all happiness.

So I invented my own. One with flaws, fears, questions, vulnerability, just like me. He wouldn’t be the answer to all prayers. Instead, he would hold up a mirror, and comfort in our likeness would help, even if for just one hour. Funny, how I have this fixation with fear of individuality or that, I need another just like me.

Now, these thoughts aren’t healthy. Such a thing does not exist. You cannot place characteristics into one big melting pot for the end result to be…..all you ever dreamed. What if the end result is distorted? What if it’s the same yet, different? What if it crawls, slithers in through your window at night, eases itself under your bed clothes and into your most vulnerable, secret self, fucking you from the inside out until you cry out, scream, clutch the bed clothes to yourself, only to realise that you are alone after all? But for a second you felt complete.

I don’t know what’s more horrifying. The thought that it’s out there, somewhere, or, the thought that I think I could almost taste it, it’s sweet, glorious flesh; so addictive, that one fragrant gush of it’s flavour and you will die without it and, I’m starving, craving for a fruit I’ve never bitten, but fruit I grew myself. So it eats away at me instead, like a disease.

Thus, I must away, and this must stop. And I'll never speak of it again.

And I’m still in the tower.

M X

We all have our idols. We watch. We envy. We listen astounded and then we buy. What makes us do this and, what about those lucky few who are the objects of our heart’s desire? They must have a secret we don’t understand.  Something higher. Almost magical.

Aaron and Maria find themselves in this select position. Thrown together by the great money making industry of Rock n' Roll, they find themselves hurled towards their destiny at break-neck speed. Corrupt and wilful, Aaron Tirrelli takes centre stage as an established and legendary performer. His audience are besotted - but is this enough? Will the adoration of the masses save him from his own demons? 

Hot on the heels of his success strides his rival, the haunted siren, Maria James. Her raw sexuality and female power threatens to steal his crown. Aaron is not amused.

Take a deep breath and dive into  this story of love, loathing and fear.  Watch the mayhem unfold as these privileged angels spin through a hell of their own making. We watch. We envy. But we may not be right to do so. Everything has a price. Maybe this time, it is just too high.....

M X

I don't know why, but I've been walking round like a miserable old bitch this past few weeks, and I don't know why.

I wish I had three wishes.....

M X

An author that wanted to be a rock star….a rock star that wants to be an author….

No wonder I’m confused, when I think of it like that.

M X