Love Me: The Manoir

Under the Stairs

As I learnt by fourteen, the best place for your friends to fight is in the cubbyhole under the stairs in the Diamond Block at school, despite the fact that teachers would often come and uproot us room its dark and stuffy space. This year of my life was dominated by friendship arguments. Every single day would present a new one to deal with, a new problem to face, another thing for people to shout about.

It was exhausting. It was exhilarating. Sometimes I felt like people enjoyed fighting with each other, it gave them something to do. They would fight about the smallest of things; sometimes it was one offhand comment, more often than not it was just about a vague tension that divided the group into half.

I was constantly being played off of people. Asked to pick a side. Once even psychically cornered in a room to give them information about what the others had been saying. Unlike in primary school where I had enjoyed this role, this felt a little too claustrophobic and real. It dominated my thoughts in lessons, I would be dealing with the nuclear fallout at home.

Like autumn leaves, we lost members of the friendship group after large bust ups. Shouting matches that would always be cut short by the bell ringing, and as much as I loved each and every one of them, I couldn't help feeling like I would be better starting afresh.

Conflict soon became a root of anxiety. I didn't know how people could lose people out of their life so quickly, how people could stand so firmly on their point even when the world around them seemed to be falling. In the end there were four of us that remained, and even then things soon would become sour and jealous. Jealous of people having other friends. Jealous of who people sat with at lunch. Looking back, I see myself falling into every teenage stereotype despite at the time it feeling like the most vital aspect of my life. I was being the UN leader again, a diplomat that maneuvered around friendship groups like they were minefields.

In the end, I grew closer to the girls that left the friendship group. I made more time to see them, more time to hang out with them. But it would lead me to have a distorted view of what friendship truly was. Friendship was not arguments every day. Friendship didn't involve being forced to pick a side. It wouldn't be till sixth form that I truly understood what a healthy friendship was.

Sat 6th June 2015

Today was a typical Saturday on the outside. But today was a big event for me, for once I had writer's block and it wouldn't go away. It was like I was trapped in my box and I couldn't get out. Somehow Helen found out that I cried myself to sleep about what Emma said cause Emma sent me a message saying 'do you cry?' and I lied and said no. I feel depressed, I've heard signs of depression are lack of motivation to even get up, introverted behaviour and constant sadness and right now I have all of those symptoms. I think I'm depressed, like actually suffering depression. I sometimes don't even want to wake up to see my own family, I want to put off life. With this weight gain things have been really hard, I know its like 1 pound but it makes me feel so disheartened, all my work gone. I hate my body, everything is gross and disgusting. Horrible hair which always looks greasy; large, spotty, oily forehead; bushy slug eyebrows; blackhead infested nose; spotty, hairy upper lip; thin, mean lips; chin that resembles an actual bum. My stomach is flab – enough to make a doughnut. And my thighs are too big to be beautiful. I really hate my body, really. I wish I could wake up and be comfortable in me, but I can't – I'm in too deep.

-    Ella