be who you want to be. go where you want to go.
i am reaching this point in my life where i am bored. i’m ready to move on, i’m prepared to leave people behind.
when i look forward to see the next three years of my life, i’m ready: for the new people, the possible friends, the excitement of meeting someone that’s extra special. when i think of the next three years of my life, and the ones that will follow, i don’t see the past.
The Reasons
There are parts of her that you can’t see. When you make those witty remarks, when your friends howl with laughter or snigger with amusement, she hurts inside.
When you laugh at her waist line, you don’t see the hard work that it took to achieve that. It may be larger to you, but to her? To her, she’s worked so hard to reduce it.
She tries to hold her head up high, she tries to close her eyes and not to cry. But when everything she’s tried to achieve is laughed at, she crumbles. She takes a step backwards.
What you don’t see when you look at her is a human. She’s a joke to you. She’s something to laugh at. Well, to her, you’re the nightmare that won’t let her sleep peacefully.
I feel lost.
I love my friends, don’t get me wrong.
But do you ever feel like they just don’t get you?
They don’t understand who I am, and when they try and push their idea of a good time on me, I just don’t like it.
I know who I am. I like who I am.
Wild nightclub or cosy beach bar?
I know which one I prefer.
Did you ever wonder where you’d end up,
after travelling through those
l o n g, dark tunnels
of impossible hopes?
Did it ever cross your mind,
whether or not,
you’d make it through the other
end
completely whole?
Don’t you see? Can’t you feel it? I know you’re thinking something… but I have no idea what. I don’t know whether you wanna throw me against that wall and kiss me… or knock the wall down and throw a brick at me.
So tell me, talk to me.
Because I talk to you. I was always there, holding your hand every step of the way.
“Talk to me.” You said that every night because you hated the silence. So I talked about nothing and everything.
Why can’t you do the same?
I’m lucky enough to have a friend that bought me the Philosopher’s Stone one for my birthday. She said it was the most symbollic as it was the start of everything. So true <3
The Best Day
The young woman stands there, arms stretched far out in front of her. Because only centimetres away are the stars she’s been seeing on screen for the past ten years. Because those actors are the people who brought her favourite characters to life on the big screen.
She deserves this, she thinks, as he signs her autograph book. She’s been waiting for over forty-eight hours now; this autograph is her thanks. The smile she’s given, as she snaps the flash on her camera, is how she’ll remember this day.
She cheers, screams with joy as the stars pass her on the red carpet. Because she’s front row, she can see everything. All those faces she’s come to know so well after ten years. The characters she knows even better, pouring over the books so many times every summer under the sun, in the winter with a hot water bottle.
Those books that have filled her life so much, provided her with something to be passionate about.
The tears that fall down her cheeks are evidence to her love. Her love for the books, for the films, for the overwhelming, star-struck emotion that floods her - because this is the best day of her life.
It wouldn’t usually be this way, this unexplainable confidence that crept upon her like a slow, trickling wave. Her body moved in ways it only had in private or with close friends.
Because she was conscious. Her body felt exposed, vulnerable. After years of being told she was fat, how could she confidently take to the dance floor?
Her dress made her feel slightly confident; it’s material flowed in a way that didn’t cling to her curves. Her friends at the bar were cheering her on, the boy opposite her was the reward.
She was dancing. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was just time to let go. Either way, she felt so much better as she shook off her past and danced her way into a new, refreshed feeling.
It wouldn’t usually be this way, this unexplainable confidence that crept upon her like a slow, trickling wave. Her body moved in ways it only had in private or with close friends.
Because she was conscious. Her body felt exposed, vulnerable. After years of being told she was fat, how could she confidently take to the dance floor?
Her dress made her feel slightly confident; it’s material flowed in a way that didn’t cling to her curves. Her friends at the bar were cheering her on, the boy opposite her was the reward.
She was dancing. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was just time to let go. Either way, she felt so much better as she shook off her past and danced her way into a new, refreshed feeling.
It wouldn’t usually be this way, this unexplainable confidence that crept upon her like a slow, trickling wave. Her body moved in ways it only had in private or with close friends.
Because she was conscious. Her body felt exposed, vulnerable. After years of being told she was fat, how could she confidently take to the dance floor?
Her dress made her feel slightly confident; it’s material flowed in a way that didn’t cling to her curves. Her friends at the bar were cheering her on, the boy opposite her was the reward.
She was dancing. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was just time to let go. Either way, she felt so much better as she shook off her past and danced her way into a new, refreshed feeling.
He hasn’t seen the man in years. The person before him is not the father he remembers, the man in his memories.
“You look well.”
At the time, the words meant so much to him. But afterwards, looking back, those words were too empty; anybody could have said them. When those three words were the only ones exchanged, they were meaningless.
Instead of saying anything else, they shook hands. Father and son. Time between them that could not be erased. A gap, a distance that only increased as they turned their backs on each other and stepped in opposite directions.
