Monday, 30 March 2015


I watched the sunset tonight. Dropped a teabag into a mug printed with images of Santa Claus, ignoring the fact that it was almost April. Crisp evening air greeted my bare ankles as I pulled up a garden chair; the ones made out of plastic that everyone pretends are uncomfortable. I could have sat there for hours. But the sunset didn’t last that long.

Pastel pink paint strokes stood out against the twilight sky. And for a minute, everything was still. Birds tightened their beaks, fresh springtime leaves refrained from rustling, every car engine silenced its roar. I was alone in a crowded world. Breathe, I told myself. For a minute, I let my mind wander, let my thoughts whirl like the very first rollercoaster my father took me on for my seventh birthday. In the garden, that minute turned into two, and then three, and then it slipped through my fingers like the sand did on my first date with a boy I thought I would love forever. He stopped my world from spinning with his own two hands. They used to hold mine so tight. But the boyfriend left and the relationship ended, just like the sunset.

Because that’s the thing. Nothing is forever. Moments come and moments go and life doesn’t come with a rewind button. So on those days when all you want is to bury yourself under the covers, listen to Coldplay’s Fix You, and wait for it all to be over, remember that the world does keep spinning. And on those days where your cheeks are stained with warm kisses and the tide tickles your toes and you can’t stop wondering how you ever got so lucky, cherish it. Because even when the moment passes, disappears into what feels like thin air, you’ll know that you were, that you are, alive. And every single moment is worth it. 

Tuesday, 24 March 2015

Keep going

This one is for the little girls that dream of becoming princesses. Those that torture their feet through plastic heels and play with tiaras that twinkle almost as bright as their eyes. Almost. This is for when that tiara breaks. This is for the boy who looks up to his father, even when his breath is stained with drinks he’s too young to know the names of, let alone taste every time he leans in for a hug. This is for the single mothers that hold down three jobs just to hold their three children up, letting caffeine spill through their veins but never waking up from the exhaustion that has become their life. This is for the teacher who dreamt of something more, the Hollywood waitress who wanted her voice to sound through the speakers at the diner of which she instead cleans the tables. She wanted it so bad. This is for the granddad that can’t shake the memories, the grandson that wishes to remember a time when everyone around him smiled and meant it. This is for the teenagers that spend too much time on technology because it minimises the time they need to spend in the reality they would kill to escape from. This is for the university graduates that have fallen into the black hole they call the “real world”. Now, they are trapped. This is for those that think they are prettier with scars woven around their wrists, those that want to start over, the ones that wish they could have been better. For those that are lost and those that think they have found themselves but should keep searching. This is for those that try and try and try again in an attempt to become a person they can never be.

But most of all, this is for the people that gave up with the desperate hope that someone would tell them not to. Because nobody ever said this life was easy. But I’m telling you that it will be worth it. This is for those like you and like me. This is for us. Keep going. 

Saturday, 14 March 2015

Take a risk

Think about the life you’re living. You sit in classroom after classroom and listen to stories about what the world is like – the real world, that is. The people that lay their exhausted heads on the desks surrounding you are the same people you won’t remember the names of in just a couple of years. You tell yourself that you’re in high school – you’ve still got your entire life ahead of you. Countless possibilities, endless moments waiting to be grasped. But, they’re not really endless, are they?

Because before you know it, the real world you heard all those stories about will be the one you are living in. The dream university you laboured to get into is nothing but a memory, and a blurry one at that. Your life has become an endless cycle of bills, banks and supermarket trips- all those things you used to hear adults complain about. You were naive to think they wouldn’t happen to you. And you would do anything to rewind a little, get back the moments that seemed to slip through your fingers. You say you’d do things in a different way. So, tell me, would you take the risks you never took?

This life you’ve been given – it’s just too short. It’s too short to not go for the chances that make your mind whirl and skin tingle. It’s too short to hide away at the mere scent of rain and it’s too short to search for shade at the sight of the sun. It’s too short to fear, to doubt, to question. So go up to that girl and tell her about the butterflies that flutter in your stomach whenever you hear her name. Tell her she’s consumed your thoughts. Relish in her smile, the way her emerald green eyes dance. Stop worrying. Don’t cry about one failed psychology test. Eat that last slice of pepperoni pizza your heart begs for. Forget what anyone else thinks. Just live. Throw the word ‘love’ around as if it could never run out because, guess what? It can’t. Hold hands a little tighter, laugh a little harder; dream a little bigger than you ever thought was possible. And, for once in your life, take a risk. 

Saturday, 7 March 2015

Full moon

I watched the full moon last night. It glistened like your eyes on the night you told me you loved me. The night that we laid our heads down and let the blades of garden grass tickle the backs of our necks. We danced to the rhythm of the wind and let our laughs drift through the air. We didn’t have a worry in the world. Your skin felt electric next to mine, sent fireworks shooting through my body. That was the night I collapsed into your arms and understood that that was where I wanted to be. And, when the world was crumbling to dust around me and I was on the verge of falling, you would be there to catch me. You would press me into your chest and let me listen to the beats of your heart and I would be reminded of the words you whispered into my ear on our first date.

“Someday we’ll reach the moon, together.”

The grass was itchy on the night I gazed up at the moon alone. It shone but it didn’t shimmer. Its touch didn’t feel the same as yours – not as intimate. Because I knew I was sharing the moon with billions of other hopeless romantics, lost hearts longing for someone to call their own. Someone they wouldn’t have to share. Someone that would make their cheeks ache and insides explode, just like you. Someone that would make them feel worthy, make them feel as if their life had some sort of purpose, just like you. Someone they would find and promise to never let go. But, unlike you, they might actually keep their promise. And those lovers, they might reach the moon someday.

Sunday, 1 March 2015

Blank page

Do you ever wish you could start all over again?

You could wake up fresh one Monday morning, oblivious to mistakes from the weekend before. You’d stride through the hallways and smile at anyone and everyone. Introduce yourself; repeat your name enough times so that even you start to believe that things will be different this time. Better. Wave a final goodbye to the monster you’ve grown into, sprint away from the horror you let yourself become, get rid of the demons that have haunted you for far too long. You’re naive to think they won’t chase you.

Every bitter drop of blood that’s exploded over your tongue after you bit it too hard, wishing you could take back the words - gone. Every disappointed look you’ve ever gotten, those that seek to remind you that you’ve never been good enough, every heartless roll of the eye, every pursed pair of lips - all the judgement would be washed away. As if it never even happened.

And all those times you’ve felt alone, as worthless as the tear drops that slip down your cheeks, those wouldn’t exist anymore. You could silence the voices that echo through your head, those that spit out your every mistake. They consume you; drown you in a pool of your own failure. Deeper, deeper. You could remember what it feels like to breathe again. Or could you?

Because starting again doesn’t just mean escaping the girl you used to be. It means forgetting her too. Forgetting the times you’ve laughed until your stomach begged you to stop, forgetting the books you’ve read - the stories you’ve let run wild through your mind. It means forgetting the two or three friends you do have, those that held back your auburn curls on the night, or nights, you spent drowning your sorrows in sour drinks you pretended to like the taste of. The friends that stayed up all night with you, garden grass tickling the backs of their necks, admiring glistening pinpricks and listening to you share your biggest dreams. They will disappear too; look at you with glass eyes, as if you are nothing more than a stranger. Because remember, you never existed to them, or to anyone else.

And what will you be then?