A Little Piece of Home

Two months of hoping from one place to the next weekly. 
The only thing which stayed consistent was the advent calendar. 

Wherever we chose to spend the week, the first thing I would unpack and put in pride of place in our room was my advent calendar. 

For the month without a home, especially at Christmas having something that gave a little warmth and familiarity was the decoration I carried in my bag. 

By the 24th a little battered and bruised but carrying the memories of so many living places. 

I’m not sure I would have felt as much comfort without my advent calendar through that December. 

A cheap gimmick for the holidays for me became my little piece of home.

The Face of Jen

Late home commuter walking my way, when I saw your face through a shop window. A face at first I couldn’t place. A face I had not seen in almost 6 years, who is this familiar person. I didn’t have a name until I had already passed you by. Jen. The face of Jen, I hadn’t forgotten of your existence but you haven’t crossed my mind in the longest time. A distant memory from a life I no longer lead. Embarrassed by my current living state, I’m not sure I would have even stopped to say hello if I had the chance. I turned up the speed of my walking pace and turned my head away, looking for another destination. Hoping your eyes didn’t clock the sight of my figure. Did you leave town? Why did you come back? I thought I still followed you on social media but I can’t remember your handle. Going down my follow list, I now sat on the stationed train. “This is your 19:25 train to Crystal Palace, calling at…” I must have unfollowed you, or maybe you deactivated your account. Why would you do that? Did you want to start your life over again? Wanted to go into hiding, never to be found by people of your past. I sometimes wish I could do that, I know I would miss my family too much. Or the guilt of them missing me would drive me back to reality. I’m not good at communicating or keeping up with people so maybe I am half there to disappearing. For the whole hour-and-a-half commute home, I could not find your name within my brain. Wishing I’d memorised your face a little longer so my memories were as accurate as possible..

Wild World: Lonelienss

The world is a weirdly strange place, 

Shaping us in ways we never could have imagined,

Putting us in places we could only dream of.

The loneliness seeps in slowly until you realise you are alone. Without another soul to call when things get tough.

People become shadows in your life; there one minute and gone the next.

I always seek out nostalgia and spend hours in my head dreaming. Imaging. A self-protection of one's character, too scared to open myself up to others. Now I’m wearing my mask so tight, that I'm unsure of where to start in the process of removal. 

Each person I know: knows a different version of me. It is not something I willing to adhere to. Something that happens without my knowledge, hoping to drip-feed my real self into our relationship. But they never last that long.

I’ve been thinking perceptibly about loneliness, something that has always passively been in my mind. 

The way life pans out through media, a strong core group of friends together through school and beyond, is something I never had. Waiting for university for me to find my own, and even so, it didn’t last. The moments where I felt a part of something, I still felt on the outside. As if, if I wasn’t there people wouldn’t necessarily notice. Not to sound inadequate. Feeling like I blended in so much I had become a merge of so many others within the same circle. The anxiety creeps in and I fail to leave the house, I lose contact and I am unable to express why. I find myself isolated again. 

Instead of putting my solitude to good use, I waller in my own self-pity, until I make friends again. The cycle continues. 

People's worlds rush by me and I look through them in envy, collecting items of lives like an art dealer. I am still trying to figure out who I am exactly. Why can I not be myself, how can I be myself when I am not sure who I am?

Navigating life through my twenties hasn't so far been an easy ride. I see the world more like a child than ever and I only truly notice this when I look at the vast maturity of my younger siblings. As they age up, I feel I have stayed the same in my mentality. Neglecting my mental health and care for myself to the detriment of life.

Time heals people and pace lets us grow,

for the loneliness to seep in, I held the door wide.

To close the door isn't to hide a new form of protection.

One where I allow myself to show the real me and live comfortably and graciously. Happily knowing what it is to be me.

Laters.

Does Anyone Write Blogs Anymore

Writing a blog, does anyone write blogs anymore? I guess I do now. I wanted somewhere to put my weekly writings. Honestly I have not found a suitable platform, especially for long-form writing. Long-form writing? Like long-form content but with words of more than 500 characters.

Being limited to so little characters when I have more words to say seems too restrictive. Having to edit all the words my brain wishes to say so we all fit into a little perfect box. No, thank you my own brain isn't a perfect little box and I neither want my words to be.

Mostly writing poetry or singular thoughts which cross my mind throughout the day. This is the place for those singular thoughts to go through more of a journey and life of their own. Being explored through words which may inspire me to create art from or soley live out as digital text on a web page, seen by only a few.

Whatever the occasion for writing longer sentences, my creative space is a place to express myself through my own words. Either thorugh creative writing, thoughts of the world, and anything more my brain wishes to write.

Laters.