This is the section where I write a really quirky or motivational quote from one of my favourite authors, but honestly I think you just should just take a look around. It’s worth it, I promise.

I’ve Always Been Free

Things you want to say:

You make me nervous. You seem so sure of yourself. You know what you want in life. What would you want with someone who is so frivolous? Who would rather lay around watching television all day? Who wants to travel the world, instead of settling down?  I’m your pastime, aren’t I? I’m the girl you go to when you’re bored because you know that I will never say anything to you about how I feel. I’m the stopover. I don’t want to be the stopover, though. I’m tired of being someone’s maybe, but never someone’s definitely. I want definitely. I want to be told that my whimsical ways are okay – we can figure out everything, together. I know what I want in life, but I’m at a crossroads. I’m tired of being mediocre, but I don’t know how to pass that stage in my life.

I don’t actually have anything to say, really. I just want to burst into tears at any given moment. I hold it together, so that when people ask me if I’m fine, I’ve convinced myself so much that I am, that I can easily grin at them and say, “What? Of course!” I need downtime, all the time, but there’s never any time.


Why should you let men treat you like you’re a toy? A person who they can call and you come running, because you know deep down you’re lonely and you feel like the only way to fill the void is to have some sort of male presence in your life. You go for the unobtainable ones. The ones who take forever to text back. The ones that when you go out twice, there’s really not much to say but the sex is great. You like the way he compliments you on your skills. You like the way you can back up into him. You like it all. Yet you feel uneasy afterwards on the way home. You’re not sure if he actually wants something other than sex from you. You feel that it’s too early to bring it up – you barely know each other. Yet, there’s this feeling. All of these feelings. It always comes down to feelings at the end of the day. How do you play this game? Someone should teach you because you feel like you’re losing. A lot.

Your only release is writing words on a page that you know no-one will ever read. You want to be open about your feelings, you want to be that person who is straight up about everything, but you know you will never be that person. Not yet. Perhaps in the future, but you’re not at a point in your life to be compromising yourself like that. Putting yourself out there is scary. Too scary. You’re so tired. Too tired of all the bullshit.

When will you find someone who will appreciate you and want to show you off to the world, and who treats you like a queen? Not someone who is texts you that they “need someone cute to lay next to them”, but never actually makes plans to meet you in real life. You’re not about the online relationships anymore. The last time completely ruined you. Not someone who makes plans with you, but when it comes to the actual date has nothing to say. Not someone who is so fucking boring.

Watching films and seeing people being happy makes you want to cry because you want to be that person. That person who knows exactly who they are and what they want. Deep down, you know what you want – you’re just finding it hard to obtain that dream because maybe, just maybe, you’re trying too hard. Maybe, after all, it is like the films and it will just fall all into place. The next step? Stop chasing. Stop chasing after things that you know will never go anywhere. Have your fun. Hell, have your fun – but always think about you. Put yourself first. Put your needs first. Make your own dreams come true. Don’t sink into anyone’s “dick sand”.

If you could write a letter to yourself dated a couple of months back, what would you say?

Would you tell yourself not to go for that guy? Would you tell yourself not to date two guys at the same time? Would you tell yourself to be more honest with people? Your best friend. Your mother. Yourself. Would you tell yourself to enjoy the single life more? Were you just in the game because you, as mentioned before, were trying to fill a void? You learned. You lived. You maybe loved. It was an experience and you’re better off for it – so, perhaps, you needn’t change anything. Everything we do in life sets up the next step to where we are meant to be. The people around us, the everyday actions we do, what we read, listen and watch all have an effect on our lives. We are a product of everything we interact with. It may be a good thing, it may be a bad thing – only you would know that for sure.

Write everyday. Lose yourself in a good book. Watch a really funny film. Do something that keeps you active because otherwise you will sink into a hole of self-pity – something that you know full well you shouldn’t be in. You’re lucky. You think you have it hard, but if you truly, really, madly, deeply think about it – you are lucky. You have a job. You have friends. You have a family who supports you. The only way to get what you want now is to be a go-getter. Write that fucking book that you tell everyone so arduously about, but haven’t actually written anything further in years. Write short stories. Write for your blog. Write about everything. Become inspired. Realise that you don’t need to go travelling to be inspired. That writer’s block you keep thinking is there? IT DOESN’T EXIST. That is yourself putting up a wall because you’re scared. Remember when you used to write about everything and anything and had no cares in the world? Be that person, again. Writer’s block is a psychological thing that you made up yourself, and if you wanted to write you just would. You’re doing it now. Look at those fingers go, girl. You got this. You’re going to become the next superstar. You’re going to write a book and you don’t even care if it’s not a bestseller – you’re going to write a fucking book and you’re gonna achieve your goal.

This is something that needs to be published. You need to put this up there to show people that you’re not afraid to write about your feelings anymore. You’re free. You’ve always been free, but it just took you a long time to see that.

Shadow Eves

Dark nights seemed to come ever so quickly now in Shadow Eves. Despite the naming of the town, Shadow Eves was far from shadowy or… evey. However, it seemed nowadays the town was living up to its name. At present, a girl in her mid-teens was sitting on a little porch step. As she sat, slightly shivering, her honey-coloured brown hair picked up with the wind and blew in front of her eyes. The young girl wrapped her shawl around her best she could and wondered absently, what exactly was she even doing outside? It occurred to her that maybe she needed some time to think but then again, what was there to think about exactly? A shuffling interrupted the girl’s thoughts and her quick reflex reactions had her immediately flying upwards in defence mode. Now, don’t get her wrong – the girl wasn’t usually this defensive – but something about tonight made her senses go all tingly.

The moon seemed to hang too low in the night sky casting a light on the girl making her look eerily pale. As the girl walked forward, cautiously with each step, she carefully noted that the shuffling had stopped and was now replaced with a low rasping sound – almost as if whatever it was, was struggling to breathe. The adolescent girl having made it to the source of the sound suddenly felt very scared. Who knew what could be hidden in her mum’s hydrangea bushes, maybe waiting to attack her? Mustering up all the courage she had left, the girl carefully parted the flowers and peered to get a better look. What greeted her was something she didn’t expect to see. Except in this case, it wasn’t a something but a someone,

“Help?” came the raspy voice.

At this present moment in her life Gladys Bran would like to point out it was perfectly normal, thank you very much for asking. However, her perfectly normal life hadn’t expected to find her youngest daughter bursting through the kitchen door at an alarming rate with what appeared to be a young man balancing precariously upon her back,

“Mum, a little help please?” was all her daughter had to utter before she switched to Mother Hen mode. Gladys quickly removed the boy from her daughter’s clutches and settled him onto a chair around the dining table. Upon examination, the boy had many external bruises as well as a slight cut on his lower lip. His right eye was swollen and he sat clutching his arm which seemed to be in an awkward position,

“Now, young man – you stay right there whilst I get some bandages and clean water,” The boy only proceeded to growl – although whether in pain or annoyance, it wasn’t quite clear. Gladys left immediately but not before glancing at her daughter who was staring worriedly at the boy. She allowed a secret smile, always the worrier was her daughter.

“What’s your name, then?” the girl asked, dragging a chair out and taking a seat. The boy only glanced at her before returning his gaze to examining his broken arm,

“Why should I tell you?” he muttered disdainfully after a long stretch of silence. The young girl only stared at him with a mixture of amusement and annoyance,

“Rude one, aren’t ya?” she replied, chuckling before snatching a roll that was lying on a tray on the table. The boy only grunted in dissatisfaction and rolled his eyes.

Not Tinder

Staying up until 3 in the morning had clearly made her brain turn to mush.

Eliza stared at the cursor currently positioned on the ‘Sign Up’ button. She couldn’t lie and say that she didn’t think that this was a stupid idea. On the other hand, she had always wanted to do something crazy in her twenties.

At the age of 22, Eliza had officially been single for 4 years. It wasn’t through any choice of her own. She definitely wasn’t a person who was all about power to the woman and ‘You don’t need no man’. No, sir, she was not. She had just discovered that throughout those 4 years she had been single, that guys were, in general, douchebags. Even the nice ones ended up being douchebags.

Perhaps it was the circle of friends she ran with, but the mutual male friends she had were just not all that appealing. Coupled with the fact that she hardly went out because she was crippled with student debt, it made it really hard for her to meet guys.

At the age of 22, Eliza had finally decided that she needed some action in her life. If it all went wrong, then she could blame that stupid article she had read at 3 in the morning. (She really regretted drinking that Red Bull. She didn’t know what had possessed her.)

Taking a deep breath, she clicked the ‘Sign Up’ button. There we go, she thought, I’ve just joined my first online dating site… Holy shit.


2 days later she sat across from her best friend in a coffee house tucked away in the corner of London. She loved this coffee house. She loved walking in and greeting the baristas, who knew her order already, and breathing in the deep aroma of coffee. She loved looking at their newest selection of coffee granules and all the delicious pastries they had to offer. This place was her home away from home. This was her place to go and think when something big was happening in her life.

Currently something big was happening in her life.

Her best friend looked at her quizzically as she twiddled her thumbs. She hummed and ahh’d in her head about how to tell her what was going on. She wondered how, “So… I joined OkCupid because I really wanted some panty action,” would fly past her friend. She didn’t think very well.

“Alright, out with it, Robinson,” her friend said, after what seemed like forever. Eliza seemed to be taking a lot of deep breaths these days, but she quickly took another one and looked her friend in the eye,

“I joined an online dating site,” Eliza quickly shut her eyes and prepared herself for the barrage of abuse she was certain she would get. Eliza should have probably known her best friend a lot better,

“Please don’t tell me it’s Tinder.”