The people who complete you.

Journal entry | 31/01/2018 | 8:28pm

I think life is really about finding the people who complete you. You can think that you can be happy completely on your own, and you can, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be happier. Humans are made for social interaction. We aren’t made to be solitary creatures. We are designed to be around others and to communicate with them. That’s how we thrive. Even if you don’t see it, even if you feel better when you’re alone, it may just be because you haven’t found the right people to spend your time with.

You don’t need to have a partner to feel complete. The person who completes you doesn’t have to be a ‘lover’. And there can be more than one person. When you find the people who complete you, they just show you so much light that you didn’t even realise was there. They fill you with so much joy you didn’t know you could feel. And there are no questions asked. Like when you find that piece of a jigsaw you’ve been looking for and there are no questions as to whether it’s the right piece. It just fits right into place. The people who complete you fit right into place and the world just seems so much more magical.


Messages in bottles – A poem

Just the sight
Of these ominous oceans
Gives me the feeling
That these rocking motions
Are actually
Living in my heart
And my stomach.
The blue seems
So open.
So empty.
But I know it isn’t.
I know it is swarming
With an infinity
Of possibilities.
The fear of the unknown
Is overwhelming.
It consumes more of me
Than there is of me,
But I think my oceans are rising
With the more time
That is passing.
The more I hold on,
The more the waters come alive
With longing
For what I’m clinging to.
They are sick of waiting.
It is time to set my poems free
Before the waves steal them from me.
I think I’m ready
To collect my thoughts into bottles
And set them out to sea.


Out of place – a short film.

I made a little film featuring some photos I took and some thoughts from today.

Here’s the link to the video:



And here are some photos featured:3C125306-0914-4470-8B31-4D062B9252AE.JPG230E1BAD-764E-47AA-9EFD-4362A1EFD515.JPG1118CFBF-DB81-42FA-AF55-F5A15EA091A0.JPGC189E672-93EF-4FF0-A684-F623084CEE1C.JPGF38CF8E1-FEE4-441E-9566-EA33B5BB915E.JPGFCFBF94A-08BE-41E4-8940-A2D0328FCA17.JPG9B2A4539-EF62-4F7A-B713-2342615AD7BB.JPG




The eye – A poem

I feel as if I am standing in the eye of a storm
With the eurhythmics of the swirling wind
Shouting in my ears a melody that could only be
Comparable to the sound of ghosts
Howling through my chimneys.
This gasconade of chaos and gallimaufry
Has swept up both my angels and my demons
Into the tenacious grip of an unyielding whirl,
As the air surrounding my cynosure
Becomes obnubilated by the minacious tumult.
The turbulence of emotion writhens the atmosphere,
Permeating it with anguish, despondency
And melancholy sorrows,
But also with relief, euphoria
And the birth of new hope.
But while this turmoil may seem electrifying,
And from the exterior, may look tempting,
In the eye of the storm, it’s not as exciting,
When inside I feel only empty.


This is an experimental poem I actually wrote quite a long while ago. I just rediscovered it and thought I’d share it. It was a challenge for myself during creative block to find some long, complex words that were new to me and write a poem with them. I think it ended up working quite well because the use of all the chaotic words made the poem seem more wild, which fit the theme of cyclones and storms.



Every second of me – A poem

I would try to forget your touch
But could never bring myself
To burn the memories
I knew I would one day learn to treasure.
I am a scrapbook
Of everyone’s touches
Everyone’s words; compliments
Or confidence crushers
I am a mix tape
Of the songs I sing in the shower
And the ones that touched my heart
Or made me blink back those
Bus tears.
I am a compilation of proud moments
And manic Monday’s
Mornings I woke in an unknown world
Because my dream took me somewhere magical.
Nights too excited to sleep
Birthday candles
Cutting cake wishes
I am a collage of everything I love
And everything I don’t.
The moments I choose to photograph
And all the moments I won’t.
I am everything I’ve ever laughed at
And all the times I’ve cried
I am all the times I’ve hidden away
And I am how I hold my pride.
I am a unique concoction
Of every second of me.
And without any one of those moments
I simply wouldn’t be.


The difference between nice and kind.

I watched a video the other day by a girl called Tessa Violet that was called ‘What is love?’ She spoke about how in the English language there is no distinction between the feeling of love and the act of loving. I thought it was very interesting and something I’d never thought about before. Here’s the link if you want to watch it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LXk6LqvlgKs. Anyway, she also touched on the difference between being nice and being kind. Ever since I was 11 or 12, the difference between nice and kind has been something in the back of my mind. So when I watched Tessa’s video in which she brought it up, I was inspired to write about it.

I think the word ‘nice’ is a dead word. When I was in year 6 and 7, my teacher basically banned us from using the word and if at any point someone used it, he would really rant about it for a hot minute. Since then, I have always refrained from using the word ‘nice’ in writing (sometimes it just comes out while speaking), so I guess that means he taught me well. I remember in particular one time he asked the class what nice meant. He said ‘If I say someone is nice, what does that mean?’. Someone responded saying that it means they are kind. My teacher then said, ‘so if I say “that is a nice house” it means that is a kind house?’. This was my first real insight into the difference between nice and kind and I’ve never forgotten this.

Nice is another one of those words, similar to ‘weird‘, that is used so often that it has lost its meaning. There are different words that would be far better fitting to individual situations that we should be using instead of nice. However, I don’t believe that kind is one of those words, as not every nice person is kind, and not every kind person is nice.

Here is the difference from a dictionary’s perspective:
Nice: (adj.) giving pleasure or satisfaction; pleasant or attractive.
Kind: (adj.) having or showing a friendly, generous, and considerate nature.

You may think at first glance that if you are considerate, friendly and generous, then of course you could be labelled as nice, because those characteristics in a person are pleasant or attractive. I agree with this, but only sometimes. I think it goes far deeper than that. Being kind doesn’t always mean that you are going to please, or satisfy every person you talk to, are friends with, or know. Constantly being agreeable and supportive are very pleasant and attractive characteristics but it doesn’t mean that you are being kind to that person. Say, you have a friend who you think has an issue with something. A relationship, an addiction, anything. Being nice is to continue being pleasant and supportive of them, even if you think they have a problem. Being kind is being honest and bringing it up with them, discussing it with them and expressing your concern. Because in doing that you are being considerate of them. You are caring for them. You are thinking about what is going to be good for them and what is going to make their life better, instead of what will please or satisfy them in the current moment. That is kindness: being honest and having someone’s best interest at heart. If being kind to someone means perhaps being a bit harsh, or not necessarily nice, then that’s what it takes. Nice is comfortable. But to be kind, sometimes you need to step outside of that comfort.

I suppose the question is, is it better to be nice or kind? I think it’s always better to be honest and kind to those closest to us, because if we aren’t going to be, then who is? However, I think nice and kind each have a place in certain situations, so if a person can be both nice and kind and know when each fits, then perhaps that is best.



I wish I could live constantly in the frozen moments of mornings – some photos from yesterday.

a journal entry | 23/01/2018

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I had wanted to get up early and go on a walk by 9 or 9:30am at the latest. I never really get to experience the morning at its purest, and I guess I just wanted to today. But I didn’t get out of the house till 10:30am, which was still okay.

I wish I could constantly live in just mornings and evenings. Mornings are so quiet and peaceful. Fresh. They haven’t yet had the chance to dry out in the sun.

The sun is warm without burning and the shade is cool without making me shiver. I don’t usually like to say things are perfect but, mornings at this time of year are pretty perfect. At least to me.

Even nature sounds more quiet that during the rest of the day.

Mornings are slow. Like evenings. I wish I could always live slowly, instead of constantly being caught up in the rush. Sometimes I wish I could live in moments, because moments are always slower than time. I wish I could constantly live in the frozen moments of mornings.

Here are some photos I took yesterday morning’s walk:

bird on a pole.

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lots of pictures of the same red flowers.

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and some pink flowers.

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sunlit bridge.

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the last two flowers along a fence.

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some pictures that serve no real purpose but I like the focus.

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hoping no strangers walk past.

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preparing for a brawl (not really but it looks like they’re circling each other).

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and finally some peppercorns.

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