post slider

Thursday, 17 November 2016


Coffee on a tap, new ideas in the works, emotions flying like a leaf in the wind, I can't stop and I won't stop. I'd rather feel everything, than nothing. I'd rather battle them raw, than have my work, my life lacking in emotion and meaning. Quality not quantity; something I always remind myself when the panic sets in and the fear of of having not done enough clouds my mind, as the British weather then replicates my mood perfectly.

As much as I know I'm pretty strong, I'll snap if someone tries to talk down to me or my dearest's and I won't take any bullshit, so please, don't try to be clever, yet sometimes that is nothing but a wall. A front put up because I refuse to let any other take pleasure in their spitefulness, intentional or not. We all have a point where we stop caring and couldn't give another wasted thought, but we'd be kidding ourselves if we didn't accept that they'll always be a day, time or place where something or one, is going to hit you where it hurts. No matter how small or big. It could simply be the wrong day and you just can't handle it. We're only human.

I've realised in the last few nights, how much I do rely on writing as not only a public outlet, but also a personal one. To scribble my fragile thoughts so late at night, has become somewhat a relief system, a way to ease anxiety that fills me like poison. It's an ingenious way of analysing them without over-doing it, it's like you realise how much control you actually have and perhaps how little these things actually matter. And sometimes, quite beautifully when the words pour out, they flow. They suddenly mean something more, something worth showing to some else. As a writer, those are the treasurable moments we so impatiently ache for.



  1. Your style is so fab! I absolutely love your hair too it looks amazing! x

    1. Thank you so much lovely! checking out your blog now!




Blogger Template Created by pipdig