There’s this beautiful big oak tree right outside my window that shadow’s our house and when i want to watch how the seasons are changing i just observe how naked it’s become. In the current moment, it’s still looking pretty and full, but the green’s are darker, and the traces of fall are coming through.

This whole summer i have just been so unbelievably full of exciting new energy. I’ve just been feeling this urge to try so many new things. Sometimes I forget to see the bigger picture and stay mad at myself for missed opportunities. I’m a perfectionist and someone who is constantly mad at myself for not pushing harder. But I’m trying to learn that what I am doing is enough. And what i have done this summer was more than just good enough, it was amazing. The opportunities I did take were amazing and I did so many things i have never done before. I need to give myself some grace.

Festivals, outings with my friends, reading more, writing more, journaling more, getting better at guitar, sleepovers and sea swims, city visits, museum trips and talks with strangers, just to list a few of the best parts. This summer was all I wanted it to be. I am a version of myself I have never seen before and it’s scary as I am constantly trying to be certain that I am becoming a person that is true to myself. I have experienced trying to be someone else and it is not something I ever intend to do ever again. With that in mind I probably over analyse going outside of my comfort zone more than I should. And over analyse, most things i do and say.

I think I’ve come to the conclusion that, as this is a version of myself I have never met before, I need to get to know her like I would a stranger. I’m learning so much about myself, what I love, what I hate, if I’m loud or quiet and what I wish for in people and from my environment.

I think i knew about myself deep down, that i’m loud, i’m very loud but I think in the past I’ve wished it away out of embarrassment. I was used to, for a very long time, being made to be less. And I now love myself enough to give myself the freedom to express myself as freely as i can. My mind doesn’t work in the same way as other peoples. As a neurodivergent girl I often forget that restricting myself doesn’t work in the same way as it may for other people. It’s not an easy task for me. If I don’t express myself freely I quite literally feel like I’m being ripped apart at the seems. If that means, being embarrassing, being loud, so be it, i would rather be that way, than restricted and suppressed.

I’ve struggled with pretending to be someone who I am not for a really long time now. I instinctively go to put on a show for people, either somebody more extreme than I am, or somebody much more mellow. I know for a lot of neurodivergent people, alcohol can be something that completely allows them to let go and stop being so aware of their surroundings. This is one of the many reason’s I think i don’t drink. I know that the feeling of not being so aware for once would be so delicious I’m afraid of what it would do to me. But I’ve come to realise recently that something else can give me that same effect of being completely free.

Live music.

There was a music festival in my home town and I went to a few concerts, i had never really done that before. When i got inside the venue and the music started playing through the speakers, i felt like a completely different version of myself . I haven’t felt that much like me in years. I didn’t care who’s eyes were on me, i didn’t care who was around me or what I looked like as I was dancing and singing my heart out. I could feel the music through my entire body. It was unreal.

One of my favourite days this summer, was when me and my friend iona, went on a very impulsive trip into the city of edinburgh. for the botanical gardens of course. i got ready at her house, and i had my favourite little white dress on. That morning, all my pink hair dye had washed out, and i woke up blonde.

I just decided to embrace it. i got ready at iona’s house and she straightened my hair as i did my makeup and when i looked in the mirror, i genuinely felt the most beautiful than i think i ever hav. Me and iona both got emotional. i had to stop myself from crying because i was just so happy. It wasn’t just because i felt pretty It was that i felt like such a new and different version myself. i barely recognized myself but in the most beautiful way.

what i love about iona is that we have seen each grow into such different people than when we met, and sometimes in friendships when people change it can be scary. but with iona, i feel we have always loved watching each other change. she’s always been so patient with me and has never made me feel stupid for wanting to become something bigger. I appreciate her more than she could know. We’ve been saying a lot this summer:

“wow look at us right now, who would have thought”

Another very prominent day to me was my first time being in the city alone. i went into edinburgh with zero plan and ended up in the national portrait gallery. it was so peaceful and i loved that i could spend as much time at each painting as i wanted. this was when i really discovered i love doing things alone, very much. i could barely hold in my laughter as i was walking down princes street (when i’m feeling good, i laugh, even if nothing is funny, i can’t help it)

In the city i feel small, but in a good way. In the city, no one knows me. I can be anybody that i want to be.

Seeing these small inner glimpses this summer into parts of me that I hid for such a long time is unbelievably healing and emotional for me. This summer was for the little girl inside of me who loved being loud and different, and was proud of it. I just feel so bad I kept her hidden for so long.

Overall, summer was beautiful and blessed.

a mini poem about the close of our summer, i made this in about 5 seconds

Had to make a playlist to share with you with my summer favourite’s, a very random collection

I find bruise’s in place’s never been touched

They shine in ugly colours under my sweat

A painting, that i long to watch be formed

My fingertips linger

Where the brushstrokes may have been

Trying to discover beauty

In the colours of my blood

Fading hue’s of my own brutality

Until another one appears again

Who is hurting me, unnoticeably

If it is not myself?

Needle Point

I beg of you—beautiful artist

Weave gently in between my veins

Broken strings

Threads of gold

Puddle of blood

Needle point’s pierce too deep

But I must not forget what i am

Why erase such pain

The people are waiting for it!

Decorate my body with pretty pictures

Crafted with a heavy hand

Am i beautiful now?

Cloud my judgement

Position yourself under my fragmenting arches

As i lean back and forth— back and forth

Between right and wrong

My mistake in your design

These walls built from your brick

Molding and rotting

Under pressure

-

From simply an iris finding mine

An Ocean awakened in a storm

A welcome cloud at the windowsill

Thinking we are missing halves

From how cold i’ve become

From the rain i’ve learned to produce

A river could be made in my name

But some river’s just lead back to oceans

Oceans lead back to storms

And Storms lead back

To the rot in my home

That was already there

But you found it under floorboards

In Places i never thought to look.

God’s Wall

Tonight i am alone on the outside

Looking in on a world i wish to be a part of

Peace and sorrow

Overlap each other in waves

Thanking god for my blessings

While punching the gentle wall

He built for my own protection

Forgive me?

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thick as thieves

Strip me of shield, my love

Steal pieces of me

And I’ll do the same for you

Tonight we are

As thick as thieves

-

Secrets in a silent place

Unspoken yet

Sonorous in our storm

A promise between us

To hold on, dearly

In hurricane smoke and dust

The rubble will pick up

You’ll cover my eyes

When the wind sits us down

I brush dirt off your chin

-

In our unfrequented land

None other but our heart’s

Are intertwined by daisy chains

To Bleed and blossom

Children forced to be good

Blessing’s

The world will put things in my hands

I am not deserving of

But i’ll carry it anyway— i’ll carry it anyway

In heavy selfish arms

But i’m hopeful—hopeful

One day i’ll be worthy of these blessings

The kisses and the camera flashes

Our Salted lips of secrets

Bitter in a greedy mouth

If i could share

It’d be a whole lot sweeter

Born too good for this world

In such deep water—Thumbelina

You sprung from the wildest of tulip’s

And the sweetest of nectar

Small in spirit

But your heart too heavy

Carved out of your chest

The swallow’s see and hear

Kindness, even in empty space

You’ve been poked and prodded

Bashed and bruised— Thumbelina

Born inside of soft petals

Did you ever see your reflection?

In the stream of your sadness

Did you ever love that i grew beside you?

In a rose of thorns and thistles

Not so gentle but

Your hearts in safe hands now—Thumbelina

The water from the pool was so still it almost looked as though there was nothing inside of it. A pale sheet of glass. Such a waste, i thought. Yet i did nothing to disturb its peace.

Today is one of those rare days where the sun is so hot it’s almost unbearable. In a strange way that’s my favourite weather. Being in its rays feels like exercise. A punishment and a pleasure both at once. I lay my head back on the sun lounger and closed my eyes tightly. I probably should have applied sun cream but i haven’t. Since april i’ve not been thinking straight. I’m somehow more careless about the things that truly matter, like my job, my rent, my health you know the things i actually need to be thinking about. But i’ve also been more observant, in a new, almost transcendent sort of way . The world seems brighter now. Everything i see now holds a new meaning and value to me. This world is a brand new pristine place for me to explore me since meeting Colette.

APRIL

I grab my coffee, and give the barista my best attempt at a smile, even though it was the last thing i wanted to do. I have the sudden thought in this moment that i don’t remember the last time i actually had a meaningful conversation with another person. I’m terribly alone. This is not a new revelation to me, its something i’ve known for a while.

My cup is warm in my hands, almost too hot but i hold it for a few more seconds anyway feeling my skin burn until the pain is too much and i worry i might drop it. I’m not sure why i do this.

I take a seat quickly and place it down on the table just to let it cool. I take out my phone to check my text messages and see if any shifts have become available to pick up at work. There aren’t.

It’s not that i don’t have conversations with people, i do, but there’s something so hollow about the people around me and what scares me more is that they seem so at peace with that fact. There’s a chance i suppose they’re just unaware that they dont bare a soul. I’m not saying i’m any different to them in that sense. i know what i am. but maybe thats worse, and maybe that’s why i feel the emptiness so deeply. I dont know why i am this way but i am most definitely not at peace with it.

I hear the door open and close but i don’t look up to see who came in. I assume it would be a regular. Maybe daniel, the old man who is in here almost every day and always complains his coffee is missing “something”, but then will drink it anyway and refuse for the staff to make any changes.

There’s no special reason why i come to this specific cafe, it’s not really the best coffee, it’s not bad, it’s not great, its just fine. And the people aren’t special either, nobody really acknowledges that there are even other people sat in the room with them. I can’t say that i’m better than them in that regard, because i don’t attempt to be friendly either, but i wish sometimes to be one of those people who could speak to anyone. Sometimes i may get a sympathetic look when i spill some coffee on my shirt, but that’s the most emotion i’ll get out of this place. It’s just a whole lot of miserable people trying to get on with the day. I can understand that. I guess it’s just become part of my routine to come here. I’m so used to it now i may as well stick with it. There’s no guarantee if i changed now it’d be any nicer.

My thought gets disturbed when i hear a sweet voice ordering a coffee. I look up immediately because it’s one i’ve never heard before. The voices i hear daily in this store are rough, lifeless, but this voice is different. In Front of me is a young women, stood at the counter, observing the menu. she must be around my age, 20,21? Her hair is wild, long and dark and she move’s it over one shoulder as she speaks. She’s wearing a very large tshirt, and jeans that are much too big for her. But the most interesting parts of her outfit are her bright neon shoes that actually look like the glow in the dark one’s i had as a kid. They sparkle when she move’s and she has a massive suitcase with her. I wonder if she’s visiting someone or maybe moving here. God help her, i think.

She looks excited as she orders, reading out slowly what she wants from the menu in that sweet voice of hers. There’s a sort of passion that radiates from her every movement, i feel it in the air too. I realise i’m staring and look back down at my phone, not doing anything but scrolling aimlessly on my home screen, listening to her voice in the distance. I look back up again to catch another look, and to my surprise she’s stood right in front of my table, coffee in hand.

“Excuse me”

She says with a cheerful smile on her face. She seems confident and i like that. with confident people i can let them speak and i’ll just listen or nod occasionally. people more like myself, i feel slightly stuck.

Her eyes are dark and suck me in fully. It really takes me aback but there’s such a warmth inside of them, it feels comforting. A whole other galaxy in her iris.

“Do you know where the train station is”

My eyes dart to her suitcase again and she must’ve caught my glance

“I’ve just moved here, sorry to bother you”

God help her, i was right.

The more i look at her the more i realise she looks rather exhausted, Her under eyes are dark, and she seems to be uncomfortably fidgeting with her hair trying to get it to corporate with her.

I finally found my words.

“Oh no dont worry, i can show you if you’d like, i’m heading that way anyway”

“Really? That would be amazing thanks”

She seems extremely relieved.

I give her a smile back, but this time it doesn’t feel forced. I like feeling helpful and i’m so intrigued by her.

“I’ll lead the way”

I grab my stuff and head for the door, checking she’s behind me as i go.

Its spring, but it doesn’t look like it. The clouds are brewing up another storm. It must have just stopped raining.

We walk slowly side by side down the street, in silence. Which to my relief she suddenly breaks

“So do you live here?’

I turn my head towards her, but this time don’t look in her eyes, they really sucked me in before, and i don’t want to get distracted and say something stupid.

“Yeah pretty close to here”

“Do you enjoy it?”

I want to give her an inkling of hope for this new life of hers, but i’m not too sure what to say apart from the truth. That i’m miserable. I hadn’t given an answer yet but i think my silence answered the question for her.

She laughed slightly

“ah thats will be no then, what’s so bad about it?”

I take a sip of my coffee before i try my best to answer.

“Its not— its—different i suppose”

“Different, different how?

“I– i don’t know i mean i just don’t have much of an opinion on it to be honest”

“Everyone has an opinion on everything i’m sure of it”

I stay silent for a minute and i want to look at her but i’m afraid.

“Well i don’t know what to tell you” i shrug

“Right” she says and i feel her turn away from me

I feel disappointed in my own answers, this woman is nothing but kind why and i feel as though i’m letting her down. I try to fix it.

“Im sorry, i’m sure you’ll make your own opinion, hopefully a better one than me ”

She looks up at me and this time we do make eye contact.

I've never felt before like someone could really see into me , but i felt almost intruded on, like she was reading my thoughts and i couldn’t stop her. I wanted to run and hide but also never leave her side. I wanted to know what she saw.

“Aha so there! You do have an opinion”

She pointed a finger at my chest.

This made me laugh, actually laugh.

“You seem quite negative i think”

She said this with a smirk, i know she was teasing, but it stung because it may be true.

When she saw i didn’t smile she said

“What could change your opinion then?”

As she said this she studied my face, and i let her. I was still looking in her eyes. These dark whirlpools of something brewing. i don’t know what.

I don’t remember the last time i spoke to a stranger like this. i feel very out of place. i don’t know how to answer her questions. Conversation feels like a lost art to me. I rub my arms feeling the cold.

“I’m not sure, to be honest i don’t think i’ve felt true excitement in years living here, it can be pretty bleak”

“That’s quite a statement”

she seems surprised but i don’t feel any judgment from her.

“No but it’s true, sure theres been things i’ve looked forward too—”

i hold up the coffee in my hand

“like a coffee after an awful day at work, but i don’t remember when i truly felt that buzz”

I realised i was maybe speaking too personally to someone i just met and searched her face for any sign of confusion or annoyance but, there was none of that, i’m not sure what it was, she kept looking at me like she knew something i didn’t and it unsettled me, but not in a bad way.

Suddenly i realise we’ve arrived at the station, and i actually feel sad i don’t get to learn more about her.

“Here we are!”

i don’t want to look away from her but i do. she looks around at the platform and looks so enthused to be here, just at this old train station. It makes me wonder so much about her. Where was she from? Why was she here in this town of empty souls? She clearly has spirit, emotion, drive, ambition, love. Things i don’t know i have ever known much of. she turns to me again.

‘Well i guess this is where we part ways!”

“I suppose so, enjoy your journey”

i say this almost too quietly but she heard me

“Thank you very much once again!”

She gives me another one of her bright smiles, and i feel the need to shy away, but i don’t. She rolls her suitcase by her side and she starts to walk towards the station platform.

As i turn to walk the other way i feel a hand on my shoulder

“I’m so rude im sorry i never asked your name”

I dread turning around to tell her, but i do

“Preston”

I’d love to know everything about her, but i’m not sure why i almost feel embarrassed, embarrassed of having her know anything about me.

“Nice to meet you preston, Im colette”

With that, she spins around and basically runs towards the platform. Im left still feeling her hand on my shoulder.

Colette, Colette.

It echoes through my mind the whole journey home. I realise we never exchanged numbers or any kind of information and i start to grow fear of never seeing her again. It’s been a long time since i’ve met someone like her, maybe not since i was a child. Someone with hope.

I need to see her again.

Thank you so much for reading, this is my first piece of fiction i’ve ever posted on here. I was heavily inspired by the book “madonna in the fur coat” and that is what inspired me to write this piece. i hope you enjoyed but i truly welcome any kind criticism because i do want to improve! Again, thanks for reading.

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And i’m not sure when it got there

Quiescent abyss come to me

Seep and seep

Inside of it

Reach where my heart should be

As a reminder of the emptiness

On a night of peace

Soft candlelight

Illuminate

Dripping hot wax

Into the space between

My lungs, My ribs

What is missing within me?

Despair won’t evade these heavy eyes

It waits at my skin

To claw through my layers of sin

Where is my protector tonight?

to listen to while you read :)

i don’t know what any of this means

older but none the wiser

i still have that softness

i had time ago

in sticky hand’s

and rough truth

i feel down my cheek

a river carving its path

straight to my heart

to flood what is empty

my people anchor me down

keep me close

paint over my bruises

kiss where it hurts

we fall asleep with an echo

of laughter and knowing

we hold each other

in bloom, in blossom

gathering the petals that fall

as a reminder

of who you are

After covid hit, and i went back to highschool, i was hit with the worst social anxiety. i had never experienced that before really.

Regular anxiety? Sure, but i was always such an extroverted kid.

Something about that time being isolated from the world, only having the internet as a way out, changed me completely as a person, the way i view other people and myself.

When we first went back to school, i had to be forced in.

i was so unbelievably terrified to have everybody’s eyes on me as i walked into the classroom for the first time again or step on the bus and have to stand in front of all these people.

i couldn't even tell you now, why that was. i dont know.

i think just the thought of being perceived was terrifying to me.

Also being in the UK, having a school uniform was something i always struggled with, being a neurodivergent girl.

I didn’t really fit in with anybody in general, dressing up in these outfits felt silly, collared shirts and ties, and was extremely uncomfortable.

It was definitely a big part of me feeling so much unlike myself in school. i love clothes and i love colour, our school uniform was all black.

To make myself feel more comfortable, i wore jeans instead of skirts, big jumpers instead of little cardigans. physically this made me more comfortable, but mentally it again just made me feel so different to everyone else. i didn’t feel pretty, i didn’t feel liked, i felt like an alien.

I would go into school everyday, motivating myself in the mirror.

“okay, i’m not going to annoy anyone today, i wont be loud, i’m going to be… cool.”

It sounds so sad but i would genuinely say these thing out loud to myself

I would come home everyday disappointed in how i acted, overanalyzing every social interaction i ever had. i have always struggled with volume control since i was a kid, i never realise how loud im being, or how quiet im being, anybody telling me to be quiet or that i was being too loud would ruin my day.

I tried so hard to not be scared but i couldn’t do it.

I couldn’t understand how to not be terrified of people opinions , i wanted to be normal like everybody else.

There was a girl in my school, who was loud, pretty and popular.

Very loud actually, she annoyed people but she had such a confidence and energy about her, people were still drawn to her.

I remember hearing her talking about her anxiety one day from behind me in the classroom, and being naive i thought, hah what does this girl know about anxiety. i was so deeply insecure i had decided to hate everyone in school who had any sort of social rank, before they could hate me first. i couldn’t believe any of them could possibly feel like me.

Nobody was really ever mean to me in school, i was never bullied, i had some pens tossed in my directions and some questions about my makeup from boys (which shouldn’t have been so normalised, but it was just kinda what they did to everyone) but overall i didn’t have it any worse than every other girl in my class.

People i went to school with for years would give me the wrong books, because they didn’t know my name. when i became shy out of fear of getting bullied even a little bit, i had accidentally made myself invisible.

There’s nothing wrong with being a shy person, if that is naturally your nature. but its not mine. im loud and annoying and passionate, i like to argue and laugh and i’m sarcastic. all things i toned down completely for other people in school.

I look back now, and realise, nobody would have cared if i had just been myself.

It’s kind of a heart breaking reality thinking about all the time i wasted, trying to be someone else, because people really can tell when your faking.

When i put on a persona for their benefit, it just made me more dislikeable to be honest. i know that i don’t like disingenuous people so how can i blame them.

I spent so long trying to figure out how to not feel scared, instead of realizing that..

EVERYBODY IS SCARED.

All the girls i envied, they were just better at hiding it than i could.

They just didn’t let there fear control them completely, it instead lay deep under their skin, something they wouldn’t let show.

When i left high school, i faked it until i made it. i faked not being scared, until i really wasn’t anymore. i could be myself, and still be scared of rejection, because rejection is better than the awful feeling of not knowing yourself.

To anyone reading this who feels lost in the lines between of who you really are and who you pretend to be, i feel you and i’m with you.

I can’t say i know exactly who i truly am now, i still get anxious occasionally, and sometimes i do catch myself acting differently, it became a coping mechanism for so long it’s hard to detach from that, but everyday i feel more like myself by facing those fears of rejection. the right people truly will love you for you, and by being yourself you get rid of those not meant for you.

One bit of advice i would give to you, is to leave the comfort of your town, village, city, area. and go somewhere, alone, where nobody knows you for a day. where nobody has any preset notions about you already, you be whoever you want to be. i personally find this much less scary than being in my own town where people know me and expect me to be the same girl from when i was 13. i live in a small town and i see someone i know everytime i leave the house. going into the city ,i feel so free, like me being myself isn’t this huge chore, its just natural.

It really makes you realise, respectfully, nobody is thinking about you as much as you think they are.

and curiosity in the words that you talk

but behind every face a heart lurks for a home

this place

i stroke your walls

withstanding such power

what keeps you strong?

is it love or is it hate?

around a corner from a place i know so well

i find another world of home

another mystery to roam

a baby will cry and a mother too

a man will sit and chew his gums

the lines of adoration are blurred

but this city is so beautiful

if only these buildings could talk and be heard

what would we learn of each other?

i wonder….

below a tree full of sugar

they hover over my head

taunting

beautifully open

shining and sweating

the branches viscously bend

the wind gets stronger

i’ll wait days

i’ll wait months

hands open in my lap

every other fruit will fall

caramelising in the heat of the sun

shining sweating still

but never the one i want most

you’ll never let me catch you

will you?

sweet honey crisp

floating across that sea

salt sticks to my chest

in nature im reborn

forgive my promise’s

i’ve been forced to break

time itself won’t bend to my word

“i’ll never change”

i believed truly

the girl of big dream’s

stories and fantasy

is in my spirit

my core, i return

now and then

horizons extend their hand—

star’s guide the way home

magic must be true because

something has changed ice to warmth

something has held me close

in invisible smoke

settling deep in my lungs

maybe it’s the girl of big dream’s

stories and fantasy

whispering close

squished little bird’s

our feather’s caught in soil

home intertwined in our spirit's

our nest we cherish

our nest we have created here

hair’s inside a braid

a soft peck on the cheek

interlock our wings

feel the warm air beneath them

tonight

my little bird’s

know love

is not muddled confusion

but a dizzying clarity

i know how to soar

now i see into the night so clear

my little bird’s keep me warm

we sing our song for all to hear

Love is never perfect, and never can be.

Sounds like a hard truth. but life isn’t perfect, so how can we expect love to be?

I think our society today has false expectations of love than what i, personally at least, believe is the truth behind the subject.

In some ways, i think people these days are expecting, too much, and not enough from love somehow at the same time?

Someone may repost a slightly targeted tik tok hinting at the idea of love, or an instagram reel, or a story, the idea of doing a soft launch, a hard launch, are all things that society has started to yearn for as a sign of true love, when obviously it is not.

Love is not in monetization, and neither is heartbreak.

Performing for other people like puppets of perfection will never bring you the love and peace that we are actually all searching for. There is more than these meaningless gestures to love.

It’s become a trend to find a person and present them on your social media like a sort of prize, like a trophy saying

“see, look i’m in love and here is your proof that someone can love me!”

People tend to think then… if love is not in these nonchalant weak actions, surely the dramatics are where love lie.

Surely love is being smothered in affection, going on all the aesthetic dates found on pinterest and giving gifts, kisses and roses. Texting 24/7, never being apart, your second half. Right?

I would argue no.

Is it love? When the moment they are reminded you are a human, who has complications, emotions, depth and needs, and are not a trophy to flaunt. They Leave, get overwhelmed, and perhaps post revenge breakup thirst traps.

We are being taught these false idielations of what love is, and isn’t. It is making it way more complicated than it really has to be.

The love stories i find most true and are ones in which love is not this twisted tale of heartbreak and betrayal, but something so regular and peaceful.

Where it just EXISTS in it’s purest form.

Where it’s a fact known between two people and it almost feels unconditional.

Where curiosity is ample and questions are always being asked.

Where the love continues without holding on to the past of held grudges and without outside critics influencing on how you chose to love one another person.

There is no one way to love correctly as-long as it’s true and kind.

All those dramatics i spoke about can be love, if it’s true, if its created because you truly love those things, not because the internet has told you, you should, and that THIS is what love is.

It doesn’t need to make sense to anybody but the two people involved.

I think about Patti smith and Robert Mapplethorpe, who’s love spanned so far, they to me are a real example of an unconventional love that didn’t need to make sense in society’s rules of what love can look like.

It was there and it was true and it was kind.

When two people can look past the surface and read the intentions behind the actions or words, and have that understanding of a person, i think that’s so special.

We always as people do and say things that come out wrong, or are objectively just out of character, but it can be made right when you have people, or a person, that understands your soul so well. they know exactly what you meant and why you said it, or they take the time to learn and forgive.

We are human beings and we hurt each other and that is the way. i will hurt someone i love and they will hurt me, and we won’t intend to, or maybe we will and then regret it and come together again.

it’s so important to look deeper than the surface, to communicate exactly what you mean and feel so you can develop the love with a person who can read your soul like it’s laid out on a map in front of them, who walks the paths in your mind before you’ve even reached the destination yourself.

Here’s a small list of things i find the most romantic

• curiosity

• eye contact

• sitting in comfortable silence

• noticing nervous behaviours

• making changes without asking, because they know what you like.

• listening without giving unsolicited advice, sometimes you just gotta vent.

• pinky promises

• doing regular things together, dish washing, cleaning, organising, shopping.

• sharing your interests with each other

• allowing space.

• leaving note’s for each other to find

• defending each other in public, and criticizing each other in private.

• taking a nap together

• dancing

• saying each others names

• vocalising the small things we notice about eachother.

• laughing until our faces hurt.

• deep talking late into the night

heavy on dirt and stone

but i know i hover

in my bubble

head in the clouds

heart in the stars

blissful ignorance

-

layers of unearned grace

in a soapy film

my eye’s now glassy

growing larger

bound to burst

thrown down to earth

-

is it such bliss now?

kindness spread uneven

with a knife waiting at your back

the tongue of poet’s

the words of youth and age

keep me free from stupidity

captivity of naivety

-

through page’s i travel

to learn and become

from my bubble

heavy hovering

over hand’s i cant reach

but still i outstretch

hopeful of touching

something i don’t know

to feel it fully

to experience it in whole.

i embrace the streams of light

kindly and softly

thunder and rainstorms

brew behind my eyes

unbeknownst to myself

a single drop of rain travels

down and down soft skin

i sit in golden sun

but cry in storms that aren’t my own

i feel lightning that strikes another heart

so sharp in my bones

phantom pain

in thunder in rain

and the salt on my skin

i close my eyes

and feel the warmth in my heart

surrounded by heat

i keep within myself

but it pours out my every word

in streams of wishes

in streams of hope

i don’t want to withhold

the water in the palms of my hands

but my grasp is no cage

to ever changing oceans of dreams

i don’t believe it is what it seems

on my finger tips

like people leave imprints on my soul

and words dance in my head

the lyrics are carved into my skin

of all the nice things i’ve been told

the more pain in my hands

the prettier the melody

my skin was once soft

untarnished

now made tough

the calluses in my chorus

the fingerprints on my heart

Bambi.

Bad choice.

I was loving it at first. The cute animals, the beautiful flowers. So sweet. Then i get about 40 minutes in and the hunters decide to shoot poor baby deer bambi’s mother.

what the fuck.

I cried so hard, we had to turn it off and return it to the shelf. No i didn’t just cry for a few minutes, i cried for days over this. it was the most devastating thing i had ever seen at that age. which looking back was such a wholesome blessing that, that scene, was the worst thing i had ever seen at that time.

I never finished the movie, and i don’t plan on it.

I was a sensitive kid. Extremely sensitive. and i have always been extremely sentimental and nostalgic. I’d like to say i’m not as sensitive anymore, but i would be lying.

Growing up it enraged me, feeling so much that other people didn’t feel. i couldn’t understand why i was the way i was. why my mother told me it was a blessing, if it felt like such a curse. I wanted to take things on the chin, instead of my mouth getting all wobbly and my eyes filling with tears.

I did tae-kwon-do, and got so ready for my first exam, took a bus all the way there with my mum. i was so excited to get my next belt. The minute we stepped foot into the building. i realised these kids were actually kicking each other. Almost the whole point huh. I cried and refused to do it. I hated the idea of hurting someone. My teacher later called my mother and said “you don’t need to do the exam, you can just move up anyway”. I still cried and refused. i was also very stubborn in my decisions.

i was sensitive when it came to anything slightly mean, sad, nostalgic and even kind. i’m probably most sensitive actually when it comes to people being kind to me.

When we played football in school, i would cry every time somebody cheered for me.

But movies. Movies have always had such an impact on me that’s different to other things. I think movies are what made me feel the most as a kid. They definitely helped me place my emotions, and my fears.

The one that stuck with me the most, as a kid and still as an adult. Is Toy Story 2. Specifically the character Jessie’s Story.

In the movie, incase you don’t know. There’s a scene where Jessie confides in woody her true backstory and why she doesn’t believe woody’s owner, andy, truly cares about him. She tells him she once belonging to a girl named emily. a girl she loved very much. There’s a whole montage of them playing together and we get to see just how inseparable they were. Emily was jessie’s whole world and she was emily’s. We even get to see her whole bedroom was decorated to suit a cowgirl like jessie.

Then emily started to change, she started to grow up. Jessie was left, alone, under emily’s bed for years, hoping one day she’d remember her. It’s only when emily drops her makeup bag, and reaches under the bed to gather the stuff, she is reminded of jessie and takes her and all her cowgirl memorabilia and drives far away, leaving them abandoned in a dark box. Leaving jessie alone, to watch her drive away.

Watching this scene for the first time as a kid, with “when somebody loved me” playing over the top it. I was destroyed. I already cherished my toys so much, but this movie made me swear to never grow up, never abandon my toys, never do what emily did to jessie. I made sure to kiss every single one of my stuffed animals before bed, so they felt equal love. I was sure that when my mum tried to make me get rid of my collection of toys, that they were looking at me so sadly, i couldnt get rid of them.

I was emily. I had Jessie Pajamas, and a jessie doll. And my toys were my world.

And then i grew up.

I broke my promises that i never thought i would.

I don’t speak to people that i thought i’d be friends with forever.

I don’t love the things i used to.

I don’t live in the house i grew up in.

I grew up.

The nostalgia hits me hard, often. I dream of my childhood home. i miss when things were simpler and my mind was clearer and my heart was kinder.

I still feel such an attachment to jessie. and i think it’s because she represents everything i no longer have but still love.

The place’s i cherish that somebody else now has made their own, can never be just theirs, it was mine first. The many people that have no idea that they are still being loved by me, even miles apart, even when we don’t speak anymore. i wonder how many times i’ve been thinking about someone, while they’ve been thinking, that no one cares, when i do so much. i care so much about everything and everybody it hurts. it hurts my heart and it hurts my soul that people can’t feel what i feel, but would i even wish that on anyone? i think there are bigger blessings than their are curses within my sensitivity.

love withstands time and distance

and for me my love withstands my hate, in my experience at least, most people who have hurt me, i have decided within myself to not keep a grudge, it helps no one, it keeps me shackled with hate and i would rather let myself be free from that. i am not a perfect person and to suggest i have never felt hate would be extremely untrue, there are people that in conversations when asked i will tell people “oh i hate them” but do i hate them? it’s easier to say i hate them then explain why i pray for them to experience kindness. there is nothing that can be added to their harmful ways with my anger. not to say my anger does not exist, i can be an angry person, but i try to let it rest after some time, there is no need in my eyes to put my energy into keep that fire ablaze for something that doesn’t even care its burning.

In conclusion, i guess i thank disney for helping me as a sensitive kid have some sort of way to figure out what my emotions even are, my sensitivity, my deep rooted nostalgia and understand what it is, to grow up and what it is to change.

i’m also so excited for toy story 5, i don’t care, send the disney adult accusations my way, i know what i am.