I cry to music that I feel has echoed a light inside of me, essentially reviving me, on days I'm not quite sure I'll make it. It can be quite dramatic, theatrical more like, but it was merely composed out of deep meaning and honesty, so I won't peg it silly that I have moments like this.

 There, something personal to those who are bug eyed and curious about the intimate, hidden details of myself. I came to notice how disconnected I become regarding a certain topic, the other week out in the cold, on a well needed walk with my best friend, Freya. Our conversations are nearly always vast and rich, considering neither of us can ever shut up; we gravitate to talking about our latest personal triumphs, the many fuck ups, mental health, the future & present, rarely the past, spirituality, the odd politics and love & sex. Most recently, dating became a notable topic in which we finished our bulk of a conversation on, as our hunger had worn us out, we laughed at my attempt of signing up to a dating app, I succumbed to self-pitying curiosity and how I just couldn't do it, it wasn't the way I wanted to date, so after all the fuss of signing up, it was deleted in no more than a wasted hour. It became apparent how irritated I started to feel on the topic, something that we never majorly discuss, to which we realised the reason as to why not; it isn't that deep. It's not going to be a chic-flick conversation, filled with an abundance of fake enthusiasm and shallowness, in my case it's short and not interesting at all. I think the overplay of dating in film and television, once I had gotten to my twenties, was enough to put me off that interpretation; the only dating advice or stories I'll even read are Audreys, from www.befrassy.net - she always evokes such a sense of realism without demolishing entity of dating and nearly always leaves me feeling so empowered and less alone as a woman, without any use of patronisation regarding a lack of man.

My irritation heightens when I find myself around callous and frivolous gossip, especially around the subject of shaming other women or the prying of another persons dating and sex life. I can only understand the want to know the exclusive details of another to the absolute tiniest extent, by comparing it to our interest in celebrities lives, but the need? There is none. I despise constantly being hoarded by friends with the blunt interest on who I shagged the weekend before, if I have any plans to date, or simple reminders that I'm 22 this year and might want to get a move on and hop into a serious relationship. I never divulge the information they so pointlessly hanker for, which typically leads to the assumption that my life is empty with little going on. Sigh. 

 There's either a lack of interest, in things a little more soulful, or too much in the things that are too personal. I'll never quite get what hole of satisfaction it fills in those who ask every weekend the extents of my dating and personal life, if I want you to know, you'll know. It seems a small thing to have annoyance over, but that's exactly it, it's nothing, it's literally meaningless gossip someone wants, for then someone to be scrutinised or become a subject of rumour over. The tiresome teenage small-talk that still abides arounds me, is something you won't hear from me. Just because something is not plastered online or vigorously shouting it's way down the grapevine, doesn't mean it doesn't exist. It's just, well, private. Shocking, I know.


with love, Kat
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