epiphany!

regardless of what illusions i find myself under,

the reality is:

some people just aren't fun.

and that's okay.

because that means i don't have to waste my time on them.

see ya. :)

1989

just wanted to say: i didn't like her. like, seriously.

until now.

taylor swift's new album is absolute pop perfection.

she doesn't break any new ground musically, but that's the point. she's managed to put together a record that's so simple that it's genius.

sometimes you need a break from the music that makes you question everything (i'm looking at you fka twigs) and blows your mind with its composition. it's all brilliant and is really my favourite type of record but, as i said, sometimes you need to take a step back.

enter 1989.

it is mindless pure pop music at its best. the lyrics are simple and the themes relatable for fellow 24 year old females. it's just fun.

musically, the record borrows from lorde, lana del rey, haim and even the chromatics. miss swift does nothing groundbreaking. she's really just reused the blueprint of those breakthrough artists and given them a shiny pop-sheen. but it works. oh, how it works.

admittedly, the album loses steam as it chugs along. pre-2008, i'd be happy for my ipod to only have enough storage space on it for the first half of the record. out of the woods has that chorus that you will one day find yourself chanting along with your closest girlfriends. blank space is your unrealised life goal to be a femme fatale in song form. the easy favourite (at this point anyway) is style. with synths pumping reminding you of symmetry's 2012 release, it stands out musically on the album. maybe even a bit too much. but it has resulted in my repeat button getting a major workout today.

if my summer can be half as fun as 1989 is, i'll be a happy girl.



now, no more procrastinating. back to it.

*clicks repeat*

To Santa Claus and little sister.

There are times for mindless writing such as tonight. Because that poem makes so much sense right now and it disturbs me that it does.
It gets bad when you can't smile and you can't concentrate long enough to participate in a conversation. When the noise outside contributes to the endless wails internally instead of blocking it out.  And you just want to cover your ears and scream so that maybe everything will fade out.

It hurts to tell someone you love that something inside doesn't feel okay and for them to say that you should just try to ignore it. I was so scared to say it, but having it brushed off hurts more than any embarrassment that I could've anticipated. Because it doesn't go away. And it gets to a point where you'll do anything to try to block it out.

I'm not hearing any voices but my own. It tells me that something isn't right.

away.

Something must be wrong when home is the last place you want to be. You go to sleep early with the intention of waking up earlier, because that means you can do whatever you need to do while everyone else sleeps. No one bothers you at that hour.

You find any excuse to not come home.  Staying back at uni has never been more desirable.  Dinner out with friends? Sure. Aimlessly walk around the city? Sure. Anything.

Your room is being invaded while you're at uni during the day. What ever happened to privacy?  It feels like it's not even my space anymore.

The moment I step through the front door, I begin to feel the air slip from my lungs.

I'm suffocating.

it's my body?

I find it interesting to think about how much our childhood shapes who we are.  More specifically, of late I've realised that the things I got told as a child still affect me today. It has a much stronger hold on me than I would like.

Growing up, I was constantly compared to my cousins. They were slim and petite... feminine.  I was always a bit heavier with a round chubby face.  Every function had to include at least one family member suggesting that I should stop eating for the night. I used to laugh it off and continue stuffing my face.

Everyone looked at me with pity, like: 'It's a shame the genes went so wrong with this one.' The general consensus was that, while I was taller than the others, they would all overtake me at some point, because look at how long and slim their legs are! And they are all still growing!  How were my short and chubby legs to compete?  I was naturally curvier, with a fuller bust and hips, which everyone attributed to my 'weight issues'.

At some point every early on, I think these comments become a part of your thinking.  It wasn't until very recently that I realised the reason why I don't like people touching me was because I felt like they would be able to feel how 'overweight' and 'fat' I was and would then dislike me for it.  I don't like showing my shoulders, arms or legs for the same reason.  I don't really feel comfortable showing a lot of skin at all.  I used to think that it was because I didn't want people to perceive me as 'promiscuous', but its become obvious lately that I associate it more with body-shame than anything else.

I'm trying really hard to love myself a bit more these days, and to feel okay in my own skin.  I can wear dresses with tights without feeling overly embarrassed or shameful about the shape of my legs these days, and I guess that's a step in the right direction.

I grew up dressing like a boy

Because they said I could never be as pretty

As the others that share my blood.

Mercilessly teased at every attempt, 

it seemed pointless to try.

But one day, I woke up and thought:

Maybe my legs are not so embarrassing,

and my shoulders are not something to be ashamed of.

I looked in the mirror and found myself asking,

'Why did I spend so many years covering up?

Why did I let them all get to me?'