feeling safe

13 February 2019

I have one friend, who has always been able to make me feel safe. It wasn’t on purpose, I don’t seek them out when I’m uncomfortable or look for them if there’s a physical threat, but for some reason the knowledge of their presence can almost always make me feel calm. We used to stay out in London late and explore unfamiliar places and looking back on those times I realise that we didn’t take as much precaution as we probably should have, but the friendship was intoxicating enough to mask any possible hazards - immersing our brains in feelings of safety. I wouldn’t really say me and this person are friends anymore, yet every time I see them when we’re out, I can’t help but feel safe. It’s strange how we associate a feeling with a person, how somebody who I haven’t been friends with in such a long time can still provide such a pure and intense form of comfort.



When I was younger, safety was more a practical thing than a feeling. I never realised that the safety and security I felt was more often due to the presence of my parents than being in an actual ‘safe’ environment. As I’ve gotten older, and the relationship with my parents has changed, the thought/ presence of them no longer provides me with the comfort blanket that it once did. I know though, that they would protect me with their lives.

 I don’t understand why someone who is hardly involved in my life anymore can still make me feel safe. I’m not complaining though, just curious whether anyone else has that. I know the vulnerabilities of this person but those traits of their personality doesn’t touch that unwavering sense of safety, yet as I’ve gotten older I’m sure it’s the cracks in my parents facade of invincibility that has lessened the feeling of safety that I associate with them. Maybe it’s an innate feeling though, maybe we’ve evolved to find less safety in our parents as we age because bodies become weaker with age. I do still feel safe from my parents though, but a more practical safety. A safety that can be described and seen whereas this other safety is nothing but a feeling.

sweet moments

1 February 2019

I don't really know what I mean by 'sweet moments' because I don't mean sweet in the usual way, but sweet as in those times your head finds a brief moment of tranquility, or when there's a moment of catharsis that leaves you feeling tired but whole again. Those times which could be mistaken as happiness, but it's not happiness. By sweet times I mean times where you're able to realise things will be okay, a happiness with a hint of sadness. This post was meant to be my happiest of times, but I think sweet times are better because these memories just fill me with a warmth despite some not being overly happy.

need to get some winter pics, ones from summer are making me very much miss it 

- for some reason, the memory that is in the forefront of my mind right now is the time I was driving back from the gym in winter last year and I was sweaty and exhausted from my workout and my windows were down and I was just belting out Sam Smith after having gone through a break up. I don't know why this memory seems so poignant, and I remember feeling so sad, but so fresh after my breakup and my throat was raw from how awfully and loudly that I was singing, but it was a sweet moment. I think that was my first moment of realising break ups aren't all that bad.

- sitting in a field in soho drinking cheap cider with two of my friends feeling warm and cool just before going to a Jamie Isaac gig. We weren't speaking, just listening to music whilst slowly smoking cigarettes and just feeling the sun but we were all worried about how things would change once everyone returned from university, and slightly scared of the surrounding antics, but it was warm and we were wearing sunglasses and time was moving slowly- at the pace we wanted it to go.

- watching 'The Undateables' in bed all day with my ex, both knowing that the fling was going to end again soon but just relaxing in that moment, feeling warm and safe and wanted despite that awful awareness that it was only a momentary bliss. We both knew that there was going to have to be an ending soon, but it was nice and we learnt to just accept the complicated.

- strolling around Paris late at night and just talking forever about all my woes with katie.

- sharing olives with my nephew after work after he had dinner, because he's a kid and kids don't care how much of anything they've eaten and get excited for food and aren't afraid of any way they may be perceived.

- sitting in my car after new years eve with my friends, chatting about the strange events of the night, chatting about the people we hadn't seen in ages, chatting about what may go wrong in 2019. We were all a little sad thinking back of 2018, some of the friendships that didn't make it through to 2019 but we were with each other, just like we were at the end of 2018, and at the end of 2017.

- having a cigarette in the rain up north and realising the boy I was seeing was not the one for me, which is always a sad realisation but we had had a good time, it didn't last long enough for there to be any arguments or anything. It wasn't meant to be, but it was nice.

- realising short hair really doesn't suit me, but accepting the ugliness and not giving a hoot about it because it makes washing hair a hell of a lot easier.

- drinking a mocha after an infuriating day of house hunting, feeling bummed out at the lack of houses and the lack of agreements but happiness in the fact I had people to live with and knowing that the house hunting was coming to a close.

Sweet sweet moments with many more to come I hope.

why has uni made you fat?

23 January 2019

Hello! It is me! Back again with a less pessimistic blogpost than my old one, trying my best to blog this year- so far so good. I also wanted to try to eat healthier this year and not look as disgusting at university and so far, although it has only been a mere five days I have stuck to these agendas. (update its been two weeks since writing this, I have turned pretty slobby but not ridiculously so) .I think it is easier to eat healthy because its just me and my best friend in the flat and we're both on the same 'lets not eat our body weight in curly fries' this semester vibe.



Although technically we weren't eating our body weight in curly fries. I know I was eating more junk food than usual, but I was hungover more than usual in first semester and I find unhealthy carby foods help a hangover.

I was also drinking a lot last semester and staying out late to familiarise myself with new the environment as well as in an effort to make friends. (Now I've found my favourite nights out, discovered new music I'm into and made some incredible friends).

I also drank a lot of coffee, enough chai lattes to fund every single cinnamon business that exists. I had to though, as there is only so many Americanos you can drink in a day and grabbing a coffee is the perfect way to bond with new people.

I also stayed long hours in university trying out new societies and after I'd grab drinks with the people I met which often resulted in a last minute, not overly nutritious meal.

I gained some weight in my first semester at university, which is always a sensitive subject and like most people in the world I have had my fair share of body/ eating issues in the past. I have generally overcome them though, and each day that goes by I find myself forgetting the calories in a cereal bar, and how long I'd have to run for to burn off slice of toast. Or not even forgetting, but not caring because I'm at university and need food in order to actually do well.

Food and drink is a way of bonding, and I embraced it in first semester. I didn't in the most healthy of ways, but I've made my mistakes in first semester and am being healthier this semester along with more trips to the gym. It was always my plan to sort myself out in second semester, but when I went back to work the first thing my manager said to me (before a hello or how is university) was 'why has university made you so fat?'. The day can be summarised by my workmates discussing my new weight gain, I would go round the corner and hear them talking about the size of my legs, how my face has got fat and so on. The three weeks were fat jokes on end, at my expense, but not from all the colleagues.

It was hard to hear and hard to ignore, but I still ate quality streets that customers gave to me and I still indulged in Christmas which used to be a very hard time of year for me.

It's strange how they thought it was acceptable to discuss my new body like that, one of them being a girl and the other having a baby daughter you'd think they'd be more aware of how fucked up this world is at the moment, and how delicate subjects surrounding weight are. This post doesn't have the message of  'don't comment on peoples weight!!!!!' because none of us would at all. Nor is it looking for sympathy because I have had time to digest the insults and realise that they meant it in an observational way albeit not a nice way, and it was something I'm aware of. But, if I've gained weight by having a good time, and am still relatively healthy then what is the point in giving a fuck about it?

embrace the clichés

11 January 2019

Shockingly enough, a goal of mine for 2019 was to get back into the flow of blogging. When I first began blogging, my new year goals would usually be associated with posting more regularly, or just posting more in general. My priorities haven’t changed, just my level of motivation has and the amount of time and energy I seem to have in a day has greatly reduced. It’s insane how 24 hours just isn’t enough time in a day, but it should be, but it feels as though time has sped up as I’ve got older. If only life could have a pause button, or a break button or a button to press to make everything slow down.

prettier dayz

Being home for Christmas has felt strange but going back to university feels even stranger. I felt settled but not entirely settled and now the dust is swirling again and the thought of going back provides me with anything but comfort. Sometimes I look at my life and all I can see is a self that young me would be so ashamed of but that young self was also filled with so much naivety of what horrors the world held. Now I’m older and I don’t think is fair to look at my life through a lens of childhood happiness and innocence, but I want to be a self that any versions of me would respect and feel proud of. I don’t though. I guess it’s okay though because at the end of the day I’m not a drug addict, I’m at university and sure I fucked up this semester, but I have learnt for next semester, I’m not entirely unfit, I’ve managed to make friends, I don’t spend my days in bed. It’s too easy to look at mistakes. I often forget that sometimes you just have to embrace the clichés and find solace in the fact that you have to crack a few eggs to make an omelette.

This isn’t where the post was meant to go. I’m currently babysitting my nephew and I keep thinking back to this time last year, how sad and heartbroken I was and how my nephew was my key source of joy. I won’t be there for his second birthday this year, but I have friends who fill me with joy and a mended heart this year, so I have no reason to be surrounded by kids and to have their silly words fill me with laughter. I may not love who I am now but fuck me am I glad I’m not the same person I was this time last year.

What a strange post. It’s not really reflective, nor informative. Peace out, will bring better things next week I think I just needed to vent. Peace!

no focus

4 December 2018

Since going to university everything feels like it has shifted out of focus. I'm not sure why or how or how to be able to grasp some form of understanding, but it's frustrating.

throwback 

University is a bubble. I know the walk to university, I know the short cut to Sainsbury's, I know my favourite milk in Morrisons isn't kept with the other vegan milks. I know who is knocking on my door by the rhythm that they knock, I know I can pop next door whenever I want, I go to sign language classes on Wednesday. My life has a routine, but it doesn't. I'm not really sure why I'm here, I'm not sure if I'm doing first year 'right', I can't understand why I'm unable to write in my diary anymore, let alone a blog post. I think my blog used to give me a sense of purpose, despite it being a minuscule purpose it felt like it contributed to my life. Writing used to give me more importance than it does now, albeit it was a psychological importance, I've lost it now and I've adopted the cliche mentality of 'what is going on and what is the fucking meaning'. I'm not unhappy though, I love the people here, I love the fact I get to go to university, I love the fact the pub is pretty much always a motive and that technically the whole world is at my fingertips with all the things on offer in my student union, but something just isn't right.

On most of my nights out, in my peak state of drunk, I get an overwhelming sense of panic of where my home actually is, where my home will be, what my life will be. Will I ever live in a house with a study of my own where I will go to after reading a bedtime story to my kids? Will I be fortunate enough to do my weekly shop in Marks and Spencer's? Will I ever even have kids? Am I going to be shot saving the person I love who yet could never have and have my final words be 'I will always love you'? The last one probably not, but still. There is something not right. People don't find a purpose in university, but I thought it would spark something. I thought going to university would spark a courage in me to pursue more things, but perhaps the spark hasn't happened yet because it's winter and the sky is too full of cold to allow for any fire.

I feel lost and confused, but not unhappy. I'm not ready to leave this bubble for Christmas but I have a feeling I'll leave this bubble only to slip into another bubble, a bubble of going to work, doing work and waiting to go back to university. Growing up is very strange. I don't know if I'd like to be given some hint of my future, a hint towards what's to come or whether I'm enjoying navigating this strangeness. Enjoy may be too strong a word.

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