Monday, 23 July 2018


It can be very difficult shopping for clothes. ‘Fashion’. I tried to buy a crop top recently. The ones that show off a bit of your midriff and I fancied owning one myself. I’d seen models wear them, you see those gorgeous people wearing them as you go about the routine that is your life. So I tried as in also tried it on. Oh how I long to wear it. Style it. Own it. But unfortunately they look tragic on me. Literally anyone would tell you that. Apart from my best friend. She lied to me. Told me I looked great. That the colour really showed of my eyes. But we both knew, it made me look as if I had stolen a child's pyjamas. And somehow I now wonder whether she could have been right. Even though she was lying. Because now, more than ever, now it’s almost like I should believe every lie I’ve ever been told now.

I know I don’t like pickles. It’s not so much the taste as it is the texture. Like eating a warty ogre finger with slime all over it. Many people people have told me that they in fact enjoy a pickle. They think it offers a juicy quality that they just can’t pass up. And for one second I have never doubted that they were wrong, and I was right. But now. I’m not so sure. Perhaps I do like pickles. Maybe I just haven’t eaten the right kind of pickle for me.

Oh damn and blast and bugger all! I cannot believe... It's Happened... As soon as one birds leaves the nest, the next little hatchlings are there making their homes getting comfortable in their new lair. How long does it take for a change to occur? A change that changes the changes you initially expected? It has leached itself and gripped its pincers through, into my flesh. Making all the blood rush to my heart. My head. Lifted my chin up. Swiftly and from the great blue it grabbed me by the collar. Feet in the air. It’s actually fucking happened.

If you haven’t noticed, my use of analogies is related to my unwillingness to tell you dear friend what it is that I am actually saying, referring to and so by inferring another thing.
Despite being cynical about my best friends advice, and not developing a taste for mythical acidic body parts, and despite my efforts to draw this out as long as I can…. and make as painfully irritating for my reader…… I am in love.


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