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You – Season two

When he ended up mincing the guy who cut off his finger, I thoughtthere he is, that’s the Joe we know and love’.

May contain spoilers

★★★★★

It’s surprisingly been less than a year since I wrote my review on the first Season of ‘You’. I remember the feeling I had when I finished the last episode, the moment that Candice walking into the book shop and the final words of the series echoed in my ears… “oh hello you.”

This season was different than I expected, but I wasn’t surprised with the direction it started in, having watched the trailer within hours of it being released. All I had to do was wait until Boxing Day, a day that felt like another decade away.

The series started off different, not only were we in a different city it actually felt like Joe was in a different state of mind… not completely there but different. He tried… but the first sighting of the new glass cage was a warning that it was all down hill from there. Don’t get me wrong he started off pretty tame, he did let the real Will go, and he ended up living a happy life in Manila with his girlfriend, and was even promoted to Joe’s agony aunt of murdery problems.

Then when he ended up mincing the guy who cut off his finger, I thought ‘there he is, that’s the Joe we know and love’. (There’s a sentence I never thought I’d say.)

A few episodes, murders and invisibility baseball hat wearing scenes later it started getting into the really crazy story lines, I even caught myself holding my breath on more than one occasion, and just like season one I remember hoping and wishing for Joe to get away with everything… does that make me a bad person?

Then disaster struck.

Candice had wormed her way back onto the scene, and she locked Joe in the cage with an already dead Delilah… and then texted Love to expose Joe for the killer that he was. How was he going to get out of it this time? I hoped and I preyed, but there she was, his one true wolf. Standing there with shock on her face, seeing Joe for who he really was. Then plot twist, Love stabs Candice in the neck. What. The. What.

We were already there, quicker than I would have hoped… the last episode. It was tense throughout, every time things started to settle down there’d be more gas added to the flames. I held my breath more than once and I went from glad to devastated real quick. The hurt was real, so very real when Forty was killed. He was the one that I wanted to survive and I was almost done with it all… but I powered through.

The end scene started the way I thought, everything was working out, the Quinn family had worked their magic and made everything go away. But it wasn’t over… of course it was over. How could he resist.

Again, what left me wanting more at the end of Season One had pulled the same move at the end of Season Two. Those three words, I heard those three words again.

“Oh hello, you.”

New Years Eve Photo

Happy New Year!

So here we are in 2020, as close to 2050 as we are to 1990. I’m not a fan of that fact, because I’m pretty sure the 90’s were only a decade ago. Time certainly works in mysterious ways.

I’m not here today to go deep into anything, I just wanted to share with you all a photo I took on New Years Eve that I’m really proud of. It was taken on my phone, and the light blur from my camera has give it a mystic effect that I really like.

If you want to see more head over to my Instagram pages for more content. @Reedtography and @tracyreeduk

My Experience With Time

Time heals all wounds

It’ll get better

All you need is time.

Those are phrases I’ve used in conversations to friends that have been hurting. Those are phrases I’ve said out loud to people, but what if I don’t believe them. What does that make me?

I’ve always tried to be a person of comfort, I’ve always prided myself in being a good friend, maybe I’ll go a while without talking but nevertheless my friends know I’m there for them, through it all.

Yet, when I tell people it’s all going to be okay, I’m a liar. I’m a liar because I don’t think time does heal all wounds. I think that those wounds will always be vulnerable and fragile, and that they’ll open at a moments notice.

One thought, one song or a phone call and everything I know could come crumbling down. There’s absolutely nothing I can do to control it, it’s all part of human nature and coupling those realities with severe anxiety results in my constant stream of depression and panic attacks.

I’ve been wanting to write about this for a little while, but I could never find the right way to phrase it, and today after a brief cry I finally figured it out. I had to just do it.

When I was fourteen I lost someone, I lost my best friend, I lost a part of me, I lost all hope when my Nanna died. Still to this very day, 11 years on, I cry, I cry like it happened yesterday, I cry like I was at her funeral only this morning. Every single time, and I mean every single time I hear the song that was played at her funeral I break, something inside of me snaps and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Every version of the song, no matter who sings it, those lyrics will be burned into my memories forever. I remember the exact lyric the exact moment in the song that they closed that curtain and she was gone forever. I remember everything I felt that day, I remember waking up with such fear and such dread that I couldn’t move. I remember sitting in the crematorium with my dad to my left and my cousin to the right. I remember seeing the look on my mums face, I remember the atmosphere and I remember feeling empty. It hurts me so much and to this very day I can not forget it… and I don’t ever expect to, it’s something I have to live with.

When I was sixteen I got my first boyfriend, and I’d like to say he was sweet and thoughtful but he wasn’t, I just didn’t know any better. He was my worst enemy. My life for those 11 months was a constant stream of endless nightmares. It was because of him that I drove away all of my friends, it was because of him that I almost lost my family. It’s because of him I have nightmares still, almost 10 years later. He threatened me, he hurt me and left me with emotional scars. I remember the feeling of his hand around my throat, I remember the panic of the moment I grabbed my shoes and ran for my life out of the fear that he was following me. My feet pounding on the ground in the rain trying to get away. I remember exactly where I was and what day it was when I told him it was over and he told me he was going to come to my place of work, jump over the counter and slit my throat. That night I had to call my mum to pick me up from work, because I couldn’t leave there alone. Even now, I’m scared, I’m scared that he’ll find me, that one day it won’t just be a nightmare anymore.

Life is full of hard times, and I’m by no means saying that my experiences are worse than someone else’s. Everyone copes differently, everyone deals with things in their own way and I… I don’t know how to deal with death, I don’t know how to deal with pain and hurt in this capacity.

As an atheist I don’t believe in a god, I don’t believe in heaven or in hell, but I am afraid of death. I am terrified that one day it’s going to be over for me, this thought overwhelms me to the point where I can not breath, where I am afraid to be inside of my own head. I need to believe there is something other than nothing at the end, but I can’t.

In the end, it’s mother nature’s twisted tale that tell us all when it’s over, when it’s time.