Once Upon a Time...

Could I be neglecting you more?

Quite possibly, but I refuse to at this point in time. Kindly hold off throwing the rotten vegetables until after I explain myself, please and thank you kindly.

Allow me to start this properly: Once upon a time, there was a girl named Iggity* (*name has been changed for privacy. Though, Iggity doesn't care, she's just honestly considering legally changing her name to Iggity. Anywho...).

There was a girl named Iggity and she lived a different life from normal teenagers. The details are too long to list, but to sum it up, Iggity had to grow up faster than her friends did. After some time, Iggity's mum was married and Iggity, her mum and her step-dad moved from a really crappy city to an only slightly better, bigger city. They lived there for four years, and in that time, Iggity went to high school, made new friends, fell in love, graduated, fell out of love, and gained a rather interesting job that she, to this day, thought she was underqualified for.

Iggity loved her job, even though it took up majority of her time and energy. She was at her job for three months (officially, for it had started as a cashier job for the holidays) when she learned that her grandmother (who was in the hospital, but quite alright) was going to be moving at the end of that month. Being the person she was, Iggity would travel the three hours to her grandmother's house to pack, stay overnight (for it would always be late when Iggity got to the house) and pack some more the next day before leaving, taking three hours on city transit to get home, only to collapse into bed and get up early the next day for the morning shift she had been given.

By now, you, the reader, are most likely gaping at the screen and wondering where the happiness in all of this is. Keep in mind that, just because a story starts with "once upon a time", doesn't mean that it will, indeed, be a happy story through and through. So we continue.

Iggity continued this routine of travelling for three hours and packing on her days off until everything was finished (with help from a family friend and a day of her mother and father packing what they could). Her grandmother was completely packed up and in a week, she was to be moved to a closer home, which would cut the three hour travel time down to one hour (something that cheered Iggity considerably).

However, three days before her grandmother was to be moved, Iggity's mother informed her that her step-father was leaving because he had things he had to deal with on his own. And for the next month, Iggity picked up extra hours at work so she wouldn't have to watch the man who had been more of a father than anyone else pack his stuff while cheerfully chatting with a friend he brought along to help out. She knew that the cheerful conversation was an act; a mask, if you will, so they would all feel comfortable while he packed up.

So, dearest reader, that brings us to this point. Iggity writes to you now, only feeling slightly apologetic for neglecting you for nearly a month and a half, and asking that you forgive her, for her life -- and all of the complications that can make that word a virus -- was holding her back and she hardly has the time to write her own stories, let alone a blog.

However, I suppose I can leave you with a piece of Iggity's current situation that makes her believe that everyone will "live happily ever after".

Though he has been mentioned before, Iggity shall mention him again, for he has been a rock through this, even though the two have only known each other for almost three months. His name shall not be mentioned, for he shall know who he is, should he read this, and he should know that Iggity is eternally grateful for all that he has done for her in the past four weeks. It has helped her through something that she feared would turn out like the first time; horridly unfair and depressing with life slapping her in the face as the frosting on a horribly burnt cake. She just wants to say, 'thank you for always being there. It means more than you know'.

Iggity is the person you know who takes things in a comedic sense when she can. She has to, because it's her escape. If she didn't, she would most likely become one of those "gothy/emo" teens that she loathes so much. Can you say 'hypocrite'? She certainly can, and she hates the thought of being on the receiving end of such an insult. So comedy became her shield, because she prefered hearing laughter and groans of disapproval at a rubbish joke than the murmurs and chuckling of "popular" people as she passed by.

There's a phrase that Iggity has loved for years. She stumbled across it when looking for pictures and she immediately felt connected to it.

"She painted on a smile and learned to pretend".

Iggity understands that you must be a little bored by now and that many of you might have closed this window paragraphs ago, but to those of you still reading, she appreciates your time, and wishes to assure you that, though this is still quite depressing/angst-ridden, there is somewhat of a happy ... well, it's not exactly an ending just yet, but it's nearing the end of a life chapter, so it counts. She supposes.

Anyway, she just needed to explain what was happening and though some of it seems to be connected by maybe one word or phrase, it all made sense to her while she was writing it and, really, that was the main point, for it is currently a quarter to one in the morning and her thoughts are all over the place, so the fact that this is actually written coherently is a wonder all on its own.

Hopefully it will not be as long between this post and the next one.

Many hugs,
Iggity.

P.S. The happy ending is Scotland. It always will be. -lessthanthree-