It’s a weird concept to be so aware of who can access the content you post online, and it’s not really something I’ve fallen victim to much in the past – on this blog at least. It’s definitely restricting. You can’t necessarily express yourself entirely in the way that you want to because you don’t know who might be reading what you write or how they might interpret that. I’m finding it a lot in regards to a recent project of mine, where I’m aware more so than ever of my views and how my own opinions might offend people or how they might be perceived differently to how I intended. Continue reading Censorship feels like too basic a title.
She reaches for it.
It doesn’t so much as say “drink me” but it taunts her nevertheless.
This will be it. Her last drink. Again. Continue reading drink me.
It’s been a while. I’m having this problem with my dedication and motivation. I discussed it within my last post but it still seems that it’s as ripe as ever.
I took my AS mock exams a few weeks ago in preparation for my exams come May (not long, now) and I’ve been very busy learning the ins and outs of photography and trying to master the skill to add to my creative portfolio. I also got a job. It’s about time. In regards to this blog, I’ve had little time to spend on it, it seems.
I’ve tried not to get out of the habit of writing but I lost my favourite writing journal so I’ve fallen victim to the analytical essays and comparisons of my classes rather than investing my time and emotions into something raw and worthy. Here’s to hoping that that will change in the coming days, weeks and months. Continue reading So, what’s going on?
I think I’m learning more about myself. I’m learning how to navigate the mind map which has baffled me for the last sixteen years and although I’m nowhere near taking the shortcuts and venturing down the back alleys, I’m beginning to trust these main roads.
Sometimes I get so lost in my own thoughts that I confuse what’s in my mind with reality. A ten minute bus journey is all it takes for something to trigger a particular thought pattern and an entire series of events that are severely unlikely to happen will unfold within the depth of my mind. What is this? My imagination? Because I was taught that your imagination would help you design that story that your English teacher loves, but what I’m talking about just can’t be forced. Continue reading Something that can only be described
Too many people allow their thoughts to be constructed from sharp objects; knives and swords. Too many people have lungs corrupted by hatred. Too many people spend their time existing rather than living.
Our problem is that we aren’t grateful for what we have: half the world are left starving whilst the other half are trying to lose weight. Our thoughts race at three am, when we ought to be wrapped up in our sheets rather than the words that never left us. Continue reading Burn out.
Early evening, the sun sets. Dark silhouettes invade the pink sky. Coating the swing with paper, but the water still seeps through.
Complain about the friends and gossip about the enemies. Whisper tales of the past and scream stories of the future. Sneeze, cough, laugh.
Let’s talk about why bad things happen to good people. Let’s discuss why the people with the most promise are often thrown life’s biggest hurdles. Tell me why the greatest people in this world rarely ever notice how great they really are. Continue reading Swing
You warned me that my burning desire would not match your burning heat. You warned me that l would fall if I ever chose to fly too high. You warned me that love always meant falling, and reminded me that I’m afraid of heights.
But, just as Icarus loved his sun, I too ignored the lectures and flew too close. It didn’t matter that I loved you in wavelengths of red and blue because your aluminium wrap thwarted them from ever breaking through. The sad truth is, I can’t help but think we’ve been here before, because despite any attempts to ground you, the sun rises each and every morning and my love for it is relentless; forever flying too close. Continue reading Icarus