2020.

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The cheers, the whistling, the joyful jostling consumed the room as the clock struck midnight and we were pushed, suddenly and violently, into 2020.

People were hugging, kissing, drunkenly singing Auld Lang Syne, slurring ‘happy new year’ into the phone, to their families miles away. Or just down the road, having a quiet one. We made our annual vows to make this year better, messier, louder, than the one that had just passed us by. In a blink. 

We vowed to live our lives to the fullest, to travel the world, to quit our jobs, to cut people off, to make more money, to find love, to achieve things we hadn’t achieved over the last 365 days. We vowed… that this would be the year. Women in bathrooms telling each other they were too beautiful to let that man into 2020; leave him behind, you’re stunning, he doesn’t deserve you. Take my number, we should all go out one night. 

The atmosphere was all joy; vodka, rum and whiskey sending sentiments sky high.

By the end of the night, strangers were sitting knee-to-knee, having wide-eyed conversations as they took shots together. Tequila, to melt away old memories and make space for new ones. The room softened and lines blurred.

‘2020 will be our year.’

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Summer nights in the garden.

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The air is balmy, musky, and heavy

with you.

You are the smoke floating into the air from between my fingers, enveloping my hands as I wistfully write about a love for which I desperately yearn. You are the droplets of water protesting the heat on the side of my half-empty glass, creeping down and leaving a print on my page, making the words bleed into one another. Maybe becomes yes. Soon becomes now. Want becomes need;

you becomes I.

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Does Love define us?

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Off balance, I need some fixing

‘If you give me a glimmer of hope, you’re in trouble. I take it to the moon.’ – Mike Tyson

Somebody anonymously sent me a message… unfortunately I can’t respond to what anybody sends me on the contact page and I don’t know who it was (I wish I did), but thank you. Ima hope you’re reading this now so this post is for you. I’m glad you asked the question, and thank you for your v nice words. I didn’t answer it before but here we go.

So

Does love define us?

Initially, I would have said no. I wish I could say no. I would have said that it’s impossible and unfair to say that love makes us who we are, because what about people who never feel anything close to love? Are they just yet to be defined as an individual? Have you not lived until you’ve loved? Have I even felt love to be talking about it so confidently? In that respect, I can’t say it defines us. Until we actually feel it. I guess we just don’t know that we’re all walking around as blank canvases until someone comes and splashes red all over it.

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The prettiest people do the ugliest things

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This was a pretty hard post to write.
I’m often berated for my ‘oh well’ attitude. And praised as often as I’m berated. I am absolutely not emotionless… at all. I have all the emotion in the world and I can be a little bitch sometimes, but I can also easily detach from people. This is one of the few posts that I actually had to edit a few times; there were things I wrote on here that became way too personal. Way, way too personal. You could almost have learned a thing or two about me. These are things i had to delete, omit, change up a bit. It got dark, my dudes.
So I’ve gone full Taylor Swift and I’m telling you about 9 songs that I’ve accidentally attached to certain people. Dangerous, I know. I’m not about to expose anyone, though. There are no names, but if the boot fits, wear it. Tag yourself, I’m You x
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An ode to the locals

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Flat face, I share this trait
With a face so flat
I like the way you tuck your trousers
Into your socks like that.
Shaking hands, concealing pills
When I see the police
I, too, feel the thrill.
What a herd, what companions
You all look the same
Dogs walking dogs
So cool, much amaze.
So poetic and graceful
Billy Shakez just quivers
In his grave. Read more