life is all about understanding your place in the world. understanding exactly how much you’re capable of but also how much you have no control over; having the tenacity to pursue the former whilst accepting and letting go of everything else. I am always too lax with myself and overly emotional about others. grant me patience!

i am overly full of new years’ resolutions, but then I’ve always been good with beginnings and shit at the follow-through.

some kind of fear

would you know what I meant if I said I was waiting for things to feel wrong? I know that’s not the way the world works, there’s no smoke alarm in your body that tells you when disaster is imminent even when your mind is unconscious to it. How do I get past that? and learn to pull through? 

some kind of art feelings

I remember going to the Tate Modern one day and sitting in the rothko room. I think I was with the CTLS kids? or maybe just wj. I remember not really getting it and maybe giggling a little- this super dim room, broad swathes of dull red on the walls, everyone in the room kind of isolated from each other. very different from the rest of the museum, which was always too crowded and kind of loud for my tastes. I sat there for a bit just to look, to try and absorb it. Maybe art is like music, you only experience it fully when you’re in a certain frame of mind. Makes me wish I’d gone back alone. If there’s one thing I liked about being in London was being able to kind of take the museums at my own pace, go and spend time as I wanted without having the time pressure of needing to see everything. I remember circling Tracy Emin’s bed, feeling something rise in my throat- how stunned I was when I first took in the Lady of Shalott. 

The Empty Lot installation at the Tate Modern was put up like a couple of month sbefore I left London. There still wasn’t much to see at that time, nothing having really grown yet, but I remember idly thinking that it’ll be a sight to see, once it’d been up a bit longer. In some kind of ironic way though, they’re taking it down before I’d probably manage to see it next year. It was a cool concept anyhow. Thinking of what soil samples from different areas, with all that innate potential, would produce in the same conditions. It’s hopeful. Everything thriving together, breathing gently in a wide open space. 

I looked up and out at the bus window as it sped past the emptying length of orchard road, the christmas lights bright and unrelenting, a floating array of jewel beads above the boulevard,  and I slide this moment- this night- home like a pearl on a string. something about sitting on the ground in the night air, watching people drift by, thinking of times past and to come and being together in all things. 

boring school stress feel free to move on tyvm

just cried in the library when I was filling out El’s evaluation for ILP HA HA HA I am ALL OVER the emotional map right now. It’s just like, oh my god PEOPLE HAVE SO MUCH BIGGER PROBLEMS THAN AN ESSAY PW. I deserve excoriation for this. Is it that in life I haven’t had anything bigger to be responsible for than my grades that I want to fall down and die instead of doing this stupid small thing? thinking back to ILP I don’t know if it’s because I do better when I kind of like have multiple priorities at once, so I have to understand that the thing in front of me may suck but by the sheer number of things I have to do after that is clearly not just THE most important thing. but oh man I’m so sick of this, I can’t believe it’s already my fourth year and I’m not over it.

a song called/ hold on, hold on

“The pulsing of the needles is starting to fade into a crawling ache across his side. Adam thinks he understands now what Ronan meant about how getting the tattoo hadn’t hurt enough. This creeping stinging feels a little like a building orgasm that just won’t break. A monotonous, euphoric anticipation that can’t be forced to completion. He thinks about a terrified Ronan sitting hunched forward over a chair back, or maybe even fully prone, for hours and hours of this and praying for the release that never came. Thinking that if he could just tip it over into something overpowering he could stop feeling like he wanted to be released from so many parts of his life full stop.” 



by Louise Glück

I’m awake; I am in the world-
I expect
no further assurance.
No protection, no promise.

Solace of the night sky,
the hardly moving
face of the clock.

I’m alone- all
my riches surround me.
I have a bed, a room.
I have a bed, a vase
of flowers beside it.
And a nightlight, a book.

I’m awake; I am safe.
The darkness like a shield, the dreams
put off, maybe
vanished forever.

And the day-
the unsatisfying morning that says
I am your future,
here is your cargo of sorrow:

Do you reject me? Do you mean
To send me away because I am not
full, in your word,
because you see
the black shape already implicit?

I will never be banished. I am the light,
your personal anguish and humiliation.
Do you dare
send me away as though
you were waiting for something better?

There is no better.
Only (for a short space)
the night sky like
a quarantine that sets you
apart from your task.

Only (softly, fiercely)
the stars shining. Here,
in the room, the bedroom.
Saying I was brave, I resisted,
I set myself on fire.

you’ll be singing with me

we all arrive together from separate places, all having sworn to have been there earlier
once we’ve sat down, ruth asks the nearest waitstaff when the food’s gonna be served
calling hayder to come over when he’s running up and down the aisle and have him tell us about the henna tattoos on his hands, little miss chatterbox on his right and mr chatterbox on his left, in his baby bird voice
seeing fadli walk in, his face resplendent with joy
“tisa, you did [banquet waitstaffing]” before right” “yeah! well, we’re all banquet waiting now actually”
cheering for farisha like we’re there for supportsquad stuff again: “lets wave an imaginary signboard!!”
when the waiter asks if she can remove the first dish, ruth: “no”
watching farisha doing the taylor swift love story thing of having to pick up her dress to move in it
ruth eating her dessert pensively, then putting down her spoon and announcing “I can’t believe they’re gonna have sex tonight”
not realising h*zrul was famous until farisha asked him up to sing and then frantically googling him under the table
‘i’ve decided i’m gonna sing ‘my heart will go on’ to my husband at my wedding, the full celine dion version, it’s gonna be so awkward’
standing around in the emptying ballroom waiting for farisha and singing along to ‘i will always love you’ in the background, and then laughing to hear ray dancing around bawling the chorus full-throatedly
taking photos in the lift lobby and apologising to a hotel guest standing by us for blocking her way, only to have her smile and say that she was admiring our dresses
farisha’s aunts calling her over for a photo and her uncle grumbling ‘we see her every day!!’
hayder looking gravely at us and handing out sparkly pipecleaners (very reminiscent of when he gave me a potato)
sending photos to the group chat and sydney asking “U guys look so prettyyyyyyy… But where’s the photo of the groom n the bride…”