Dear Reader

I’m sorry I’ve been so absent. I started this with truly the best intentions, but as with most things I start, I let other things get in the way. But this time, I suppose it’s for a better reason: I write best when I am broken.

For the past 2/3 months I’ve actually begun to get my shit together. And thus the muse has left me. Cruel as it is. I think every poem I’ve shared here has either been in the throw of some overwhelming emotion or sensation: I’m not good at forcing words; if it takes too much effort then I leave them be. But I’ve been meaning to write this for a while, and I seem to have something to say for now at least.

So, things have changed. They’ve changed quite drastically. And I have learned a number of things that I hope will keep me moving in this change. I think perhaps the biggest thing is just doing things. In a few weeks I fulfilled months of aimless intentions about going to Sri Lanka, starting pole classes, getting a collection of poetry together, having a study plan, starting running training, designing a tattoo and booking a consultation, getting involved with the university community, being in one head space for more than a few hours or a day or a week…

My struggle thus far has been trying to find a rhythm that isn’t based on extremes that conflict so adversely that I’m torn in half between each base note. I have realised that for the majority of the beginning of this year, I had convinced myself of things that were true to some of me but not all of me.  And that my dichotomies are my most troubling attribute. Through throwing myself into other things, I’m attempting to find some balance. Or at least to not be carried away by one calling or the other.

But the issue is, I miss it. Lying in bed I hear the whisperings of my recklessness and though I know it’s best to turn her down, I don’t want to for as long as I hear them. This probably makes me sound far crazier than I am, but it’s the best way I can rationalise my feelings with myself. This way I always have an objective view of me, for as long as I stand back, though I may not like a lot of what I’m seeing. I miss the wild nights, and the endless poetry and the complete disregard for things I now allow to stress me into migraines. I miss the words that were always just “there” but now I have to manage.

Though I suppose the upside to that, is I can edit now. Nothing’s completely perfect anymore, but nothing’s utterly destroyed. I’ve had the privilege of an outstretched hand recently regarding my writing… that if I can get something together then they’ll help me put it forward for further development, and this is insanely exciting. This page is my baby, it’s the first thing that ever embodied my love of writing and truly made me feel supported in that… but I’d really like to take the next step.

Consider this my unveiling of plans.

I won’t call it a promise, because I know better of myself now. But I will make the effort to be more present, and hopefully more proseful.

Watch This Space


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