Of mind rambles
From my brain
Who thought it could never happen
Because her thoughts weren’t significant enough

Received with love
Despite the darkness
Lurking behind every word
Waiting for the failure of a bad post

Thoughts were gathered
Frantically edited and published
From gloomy thoughts on gloomy days
When the sun wouldn’t shine

Hesitantly thought about
Striving for the right word
But settling for a deadline
Is the excuse I gave myself

Written half asleep
Too lazy to write down
Or fully give details to
Hoping the later wouldn’t come

Creating a structure
That was desperately needed
Proving to myself
I can sometimes be interesting

After the first
Not much has changed


instagram | twitter | pinterest | tumblr

Shaking it up a bit

Exactly a year ago I decided I wanted to keep a schedule on this blog. For 52 weeks I have not missed a post and well… I’m kinda proud of that! I had never kept a schedule before and I wanted to challenge myself to produce something every week for year. It encouraged me to write, to not write, to give the opportunity to guest post and overall just to prove to myself I can stick to something for a year.
Buuuuuut I didn’t decide not to post last Friday. I knew I had a self deadline…I just knew it had been a year and if I didn’t feel like writing I would give myself the week off.
It was strange.
For the past year I posted every Friday at 11pm (Irish Time) and received constant feedback, and love, and likes, and comments that I loved receiving. It was strange not waking up to that on Saturday morning, or any other day to follow. I don’t know if I missed it, or if it was just strange.
For a while I’ve been feeling like I’m causing more distance between myself and what I post weekly. What I’m producing each week isn’t really an accurate depiction of my writing, and I don’t know how I feel about that.
However, I liked writing weekly, but I’m going to change the day of publication to a weekday…..which I’ll eventually decide on.
There’s a few things I’ve learned about myself in the past year through my writing. These include such life lessons as poetry makes feelings easier to cover up, I like writing to and recapping on the months, likes are not an accurate representation of how good my writing is, the sea is very easy to write about, and I really like the Oxford comma… just to name a few!
Here’s to the next chapter of EimzPink
Thank you for the past 52 weeks❤


instagram | twitter | pinterest | tumblr

Table for One

Have you ever had one of those late night slightly not sober nights of rambling with the people you’re most comfortable with? Sometimes it’s all fun and games and who has done what and what was your most embarrassing moment. Other times, epiphanies happen. I had an epiphany recently.

I am a generally positive person. I like to be happy, I like to make others happy and I like how I like being happy. Overall, I like people and do not hate humanity. I was talking about this to some of my friends recently. We are all passionate people, so this conversation got heated. I agreed that humans can do some awful things, but I’ve never experienced anything near that. That was my argument; why be mad at a world that has technically done me no harm?

Then it happened.
The one line that has stuck with me for so long after.
“You have the best faith in humanity because you don’t give anyone the opportunity to get close enough to hurt you”.

To say I was stunned was an understatement.
It was just weaved into conversation like something casual and that everyone knows.
But I just couldn’t shake it off.
I have always viewed myself as ‘reserved’, but I never realised to what extent.


All words that could describe me, and have been used to describe me. Personally I just prefer the term ‘reserved’. When I think of the list of words, there’s negativity. However, one word can just cancel all those others out. I never thought of myself as any of those words in particular, just a slight combination of them all. I’ve been called some of them a few times, and not always as an insult. It’s strange to identify as these words but I can’t help it.

I am reserved, and I always knew this. I just never realised how much other people know this. I also never realised how much it could be holding me back. There was no traumatic experience that shaped me into the reserved person I am. There’s no excuse why I shut others out and only pry open to less than a handful of people, before closing back up again. Layers and layers of personality, dreams, opinions and thoughts that I don’t feel comfortable sharing.

Honestly, I wish I could. I wish I could convince myself that people are interested enough to hear what I say. I know I’m interested in what anyone else would ever tell me. I wish I could convince myself that what I would be telling them would be interesting enough. I know if anyone told me something personal, I would definitely be interested.

All my other blog posts reach a conclusion or at least promise at the end.
But for this one I’m probably worse than where I started.


instagram | twitter | pinterest | tumblr

Okay September

Dear September

We had a good time.
I’d like to think of you as a healing month. Most people dread September because it’s the official ending of Summer. For me, this wasn’t a bad thing. Summer could have been better, and you could have been better. But, you weren’t. You were just okay. But okay is what I needed. I needed a time to recap and renew and you were there for me for that. We had a strong ending, but not strong enough for me to want to keep you around. You were supposed to be a month of renewal, but nothing was new for me. I got a routine back. I learned how to cope with this new routine. I learned to accept this new routine. I wouldn’t have been able to do that without you.
Nothing significant happened with you, but I didn’t want it to. The last thing I needed was something extravagant, like almost every other month offers. I wasn’t occupied every second of every day, but I wasn’t bored. I was content to be with you this month. I wish you pushed me harder. I wished I was more prepared for what is to come. But I would have hated you if you pushed me any further.
We’re saying goodbye tonight, but we both know it’s not for forever. You were my month of getting back into routine and calming myself down in a relaxing way, which is what I dreamed of months before. I got exactly what I wanted, but then realised it wasn’t what I needed.
Loads of things happened with you. I moved back to college, got to know new people, started new classes, explored a bit more and got to spend a week with three friends I adore with all my heart. I really want to thank you for that opportunity.
You were my month to slow down, which is what I physically and emotionally needed.
Thank you September.

Until we meet again,

P.S. You are going to be terrifying next year.

Screen Shot 2016-09-30 at 22.14.02.png


instagram | twitter | pinterest | tumblr

Exploring Morals

When I was young I remember watching 102 Dalmatians (the one with people in it rather than the cartoon) with my Granny. It had got to the ‘stressful’ part of the movie where the villain almost wins and I asked my Granny why there was “bad people” and more importantly why would they want to harm dogs. For some reason her answer always stuck with me.
“Well it wouldn’t be very interesting to watch without the baddies, don’t you think?”
I didn’t dwell too much on it at the time probably because I just wanted to watch the puppies on screen, but I was recently asked why I loved the “baddies”. The reason why I’m using the word “baddies” instead of villians is because I’m not talking about the viscous villians who have no background or character development like Gaston in Beauty and the Beast. I’m talking about Sharpay in High School Musical who just wanted to perform as the star on stage, I’m talking about Regina from Once Upon A Time who wants to always do what’s best, I’m talking about Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights who never gave up, and so many more. To be honest I never knew how much I supported baddies until I began writing that list and had to edit out so many others.
I guess the question is why? Why do I root for these characters over the ones that I am encouraged to because their moral beliefs are emphasised. Well, to begin with, I was never one for letting someone else decide how I feel about something. However, I also think it’s because I can never seem to fully relate to main characters. I loved Summer more than Marissa in The O.C., I loved Cat and Jade in Victorious more than Tori, I loved Bonnie and Catherine more than Elaina in The Vampire Diaries, Christina over Tris in Divergent, and also so many others that aren’t from teen television… hah!
Main characters always seemed too “composed” for me. A bit too flawless with not enough personality. Which, I know, is how a plot should be written. It is also partially the reason why I can never seem to finish a story.
I never love my main character enough to care about their whole story. I know it sounds silly because obviously I can write whatever I want, but it never flows as much as writing about the “side kick” or “baddies”.
These underrated characters are always under appreciated as the hero or heroine essentially makes the last move and is given credit for everything.
Simply, they never interested me enough.
My Granny was right. It wouldn’t be interesting to watch without them.


instagram | twitter | pinterest | tumblr

Grave Expectations

I hate cleaning my room
Not for the dust that gathers or the socks I forgot to pick up
But for the grave yard I discover

Filled with items from hobbies that I quit faster than I blinked

Guitars and other instruments I grew bored of
Sport medals from games I hated
Dance photos and drama tickets before stage fright kicked in
Art supplies that I never properly used

Started collections of dream catchers and snow globes
All started in a moment of passion
Only to fizzle out to something I used to do

But there was always my book shelf to remain constant
Even if it wasn’t constant with the same books

The only dust to gather was at the top

Since I can remember I always loved reading
It’s a reminder that something that can change so often can still capture my attention so despite all the things I used to do is in not a comparison to the books I used to own that each took me on their own adventure only to drop me back to the shelf

instagram | twitter | pinterest | tumblr


When I was young I danced
My hair was scraped back in a bun
Not a strand out of place or on my face
Specifically too tight to avoid an onstage disaster
My hair out of my face made me focus

Swimming always had my hair in a braid
When it was down it was just annoying
When it was up it was just restricting
In the sea with a plait made me feel like a mermaid
With the salt causing natural beach waves
Never causing me hassle with a volatile ocean

A few years later I attempted football
My hair was thrown back in a messy pony tail
Instead of my unsuitable bun
Explained as too easy to grab
The pony tail flicked and swayed like the sport
A team trying to keep some femininity
While covered in dirt and bruises

Hair became important as I got older
Style defined personality
But I was just self conscious
My hair was let down for me to hide in it
A side fringe just like everyone else
Who just wanted to fit in

When I was stressed I did my hair
Rather than bite my nails or clean around me
Effortlessly using heat tools to make my hands busy
Perfecting curls to distract from every thing else I didn’t have control over
When my hair was up I felt like a slob
Instead of the dancer, the swimmer, and the footballer I one was

My life has been distracted with heat tools and hair products
And one day I hope to chop it all off
Lose responsibilities without losing my originality
But today is not that day


instagram | twitter | pinterest | tumblr

Yikes August

Dear August,

You were shit.
Okay that might be a bit harsh, but I was never one to always think positively, you know that. I had a bad month with you, and I’m finding that hard to accept. Endings of months have always been significant to me, where I recap and analyse all that happened within four weeks that feel like little chapters in my life. I like each chapter to have a happy ending, so I usually gloss over the dark days and embrace the good ones to even out the fuller picture. However, I can’t do that with you August.
You was my worst stats month since 2014. You know this doesn’t really mean that much to me in terms of figures because I know I didn’t work for them like I usually do. That was my problem with you. I didn’t look over drafts, I didn’t interact and I didn’t put my full effort into it like I usually try to. I put no work into it or you. I didn’t want to, to be honest. Mostly, I just didn’t feel in the mood. Don’t get me wrong August, I kept writing. I have so many first drafts that my laptop is full of storage and my brain is ready to pop. Ideas were just blurted out and copied and pasted thirty minutes before my self deadline. You’re making me reconsider that self deadline. I’m embarrassed to look over my blog for your month. It’s the first time I haven’t been proud of my writing, and I can’t say sorry enough.
Personal writing was thrown out the window in exchange for cryptic poetry with too many metaphors because I didn’t want to open up a can of worms, which would just leave more rambles, like what is happening now. August, you just left me feeling like I was being pulled from all sides without anyone actually wanting anything from me. Helpless almost. I’m a bit worn out from you, but I’d like to think I will welcome you back next year.
I don’t know why it is your month that broke me. Nothing too harsh happened. The problem was a lot happened. Looking back, you’re kind of a blur. Then again, that could just be my mind trying to get over you. I’m sorry things didn’t go well this time August. I’m not sure what my next move is, but I couldn’t handle playing cryptic games any more like we used to do. You deserve better. We deserve better.
I don’t know why I wrote a letter to you August.
I guess I just wanted someone else to take the blame for me.

All my affection,

P.S. I’m moving out tomorrow.

Screen Shot 2016-09-02 at 22.07.21.png

instagram | twitter | pinterest | tumblr

Viewing a Self Destruction

Scientists believe that we will have functional robots by 2020. This means that after years of prototyping and difficult algorithms trying to be so exactly precisely correct, there will be a final product. To build a this final project, you need equipments, materials, and labourers. If a robot is built incorrectly, it will be discarded or recycled to make a new one. If a robot cannot be fixed, then someone will try to make it again.
However, there’s also the possibility of a faulty robot. Perfectly perfect until one day a crash, bang, beep, or boop happens.
The robot begins to shut itself down. The blinking lights and everything else are still on show, slowly fading. The walking gets slower, the commands get slower and the insides are self destructing.
There is no pain.
No vomiting.
No change of colour.
No change of mood.
No sudden damage.
Engineers are on autopilot when a faulty robot occurs. They are almost so used to it that it almost has no effect on them anymore. There are so many variations of the same problem to them, but it can usually be narrowed down to a specific fault. Engineers fix what they can, and hope the problem doesn’t get worse. They can only help as much as possible.
They don’t have the magic to make it better.
When I think about this I envy the robots. We don’t have a solution when a fault occurs.
We just have to watch the slow decline of a body shutting down.


instagram | twitter | pinterest | tumblr

Waving hello again

The only time I ever experienced peace
Was in the sun and the rain
At the darkest night and the brightest morning
In a haven large enough to share with the world
That I took advantage of
Until it took advantage of me

A toxic relationship is an easy comparison
With all my trust over all my years
Broken in one decision making me feel empty
Creating a panic inside me if I dare to think too much
Breath In Breath Out
Control that I never appreciated before

The feeling of betrayal is haunting
Making me second guess
If I was just lucky all those years
If I was just lied to
If I was the one who was wrong

However I’m always lured back
By happy memories
Familiar feelings
My broken heart is finally beginning to mend
The excitement of the sea now brings a rush
I think I’m ready to go back


instagram | twitter | pinterest | tumblr