This is not the end

Ever since I made this blog I have struggled with my online identity.

I have scheduled posts, wrote weekly posts, wrote daily posts, wrote monthly posts, and yet I was always able to write for me.
For some unknown reason, in the past few months

I’ve felt myself become so distant to my blog and, in turn, my persona of ‘EimzPink’.
I know I’m no celebrity, and my Hannah Montana inner feeling is nothing like my actual situation (lol). But I just can’t help feeling dissociated from this blog. I never knew what I wanted to achieve with it, and I actually achieved so much with it!

However, this was all behind my screen. It had power over me. Anyone who knew had power over me. My inner thoughts, feelings, situations, mindsets, everything that consumed me. It was just available for anyone to stumble across.

I distanced myself because of this. Scheduling posts instead of publishing right away just incase someone noticed my mood when I wasn’t ready to talk. My own comfort corner of the Internet stopped bringing me comfort. It brought me the exact opposite. It stopped being my safe space.
Passive aggressive poetry was used instead of my old format of “today was a bad day and this is why …”

I lost touch with a lot of bloggers who I wanted to engage with. My blog squad felt distant but I knew I belonged with them.

I never want to delete this blog. I have timeless personal memories of times caught by a burst of emotion I wanted to remember. Although I felt paranoid at the time, I don’t mind having my past public because those posts made me the writer that I am today. Yes, they’re so cringey. But I love my progress.
However, I think it’s time to put my ambiguity to rest. I don’t like the clouded version of myself. I don’t feel ashamed for what I think anymore. I’m not just a moody kid with a blog.

I’m not stopping this blog, just simply cutting back. I’ll write a monthly letter, and maybe some updates but I want to end the ‘EimzPink’ era.

My name is Eimear.
I’m a 20 year old almost University graduate.
I love to write.
I also love a lot of other things.

I’m creating a new blog. I’ve been working on it for a bit, but still have a few more details to smooth over before I announce it to here.
If this isn’t the first post of mine that you’ve read, then I want to thank you. I never thought I would get even a fraction of the support that I receive almost daily here. It really means so much to me.

When I’m ready, I’ll link my new blog.
But until then, I have to thank everyone who filled me with positivity about my writing. (With a special shout out to my blog squad of course! )

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What I’ll miss

Late caffeinated induced nights
With a gloomy morning to follow
Reminding me that with every deadline met
Two more follow

Loud crowds of people who don’t care
The people who waste time
Who try to waste my time
Intimidating and infuriating

Long bus journeys
That are too high for my budget
But three nights on my own
Would never be worth it

Are all things I will never miss
But that I needed to experience
Coming hand in hand
With all things good

Like early morning walks to the beach
With short classes that encourage group work
Lab filled days with lunch orders
And rotated coffee loyalty cards passed around

Being able to walk everywhere
But also being able to walk home
And close off the world
Without having to report to anyone

Independence
Optimistic people
Safety
Encouragement from everyone

It’s what I’ll miss when I leave
For my last time

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Immortalised Memories

One of my favourite stories growing up was one that my aunt told me.
I come from a big family of twelve(ish) aunts and uncles and uncountable extended family members. My mum is ranked as the youngest girl, and I’m her youngest.
My aunt Mary is the oldest girl in the family, with two of my uncles before her. Despite the age gap my mum would consider her one of her siblings she’s most close to.
I never got to meet my grandparents, but my favourite story of Mary’s is one she told of them when she was born.
My granddad had just had his first pint after the birth of his first daughter. Chuffed at himself, he sipped away happily and content on his own.

One of the locals came in and said to my granddad:
“Ah Brendan, I just saw your two sons on the way here”
Without batting an eye, my granddad replied:
“Yes. But have you seen my daughter?”

The way my aunt tells it just almost transports me back in time. It’s a story that I genuinely would never get tired of hearing as it brings me a feeling of closeness to the grandparents I never had the privilege of meeting.

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Wish for you

It’s funny how
I have no expectations
But my heart still stops
Only to speed up again
When I get a glimpse of you
Sparking a moment of hope
That I know will never last
No matter how long
I really want to believe it
This control over me
Is painful
So I spend my life
Wishing it away
When I really want to wish for you

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Pinterest Appreciation

I never really realised how much I used Pinterest until I started recommending it to people. Originally, I was only on it to follow people and get photos. However, somehow it has become one of my favourite apps. It became my sort of “wind down app” before bed.. if that makes sense.

I don’t have the pressure of being “online” like facebook, nor do I have to engage in much like tumblr or youtube. But on Pinterest, I can just scroll and save pretty things. It’s nice.

Recently, I’ve been trying to pay attention to my nutrition intake and my pinterest board had helped me by just being able to refer to it.

It is also filled with endless writing prompts... which is pretty fun.

One day in class my teacher asked who used Pinterest, and no one put their hand up. It was a majority male class so I didn’t want to be the only one to admit to even knowing what this website was. But I’m not ashamed!

Pinterest appreciation! 

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House Fairies

Fairies have always been a popular creature in Ireland with Irish folklore. I’ve grown up with different interpretations of fairies, and visited many of the different landmarks around Ireland that cater to the fairy folk.

My dad used to bring me home any book he could get his hands on because he knew, just like him, I would read anything. He would buy from charity shops and practically bring the same books back the next day to donate again. To this day I still think it’s the best way to read as many books as possible. So although I can’t thank him for bringing home the greatest literature of the century, I can always thank him for bringing me the love of reading as much as possible. I enjoyed all the books of course, but it was mostly light reading that could be read and passed on.

For my mum, reading was a very different experience. She would never read something that she knew she wouldn’t enjoy and would stop reading a book if it bored her or if anything else bothered her about it. However, she is responsible for introducing me to some of my favourite books that will always stay with me. My dad never knew what to pick out for me, which broadened my types of novels I read. But my mum knew what to look for and every once in a while she would arrive home with a book that would capture my heart.

One of these books was about a ‘faery’ named  Knife. Researching it today for this post, I discovered it was only the beginning of a series called Faery Rebels.  I had never heard of the book or author when I first got it, but it intrigued me so much. My “reading ego” was a bit high, so I wasn’t too impressed when my mum brought me a book that I had never heard of before, but after reading it I was almost mad at myself for almost being too stubborn to read it. Looking back on it, it probably does have a weird story line that wouldn’t stand out to me now. But it was just something completely different to anything I had ever read before.

I raved about it a lot to anyone who would listen, and got all of my friends interested in this mysterious new book. Although I never had the “fairy phase” growing up of Irish folklore or pretty little colourful fairies, I had a new understanding of them.

Also, it became a joke in my house that everything that happened was because of the group of faeries now living in the house. To this day we would refer to the “Water Faery” who never returns water bottles to the kitchen, or the “Shoe Faery” who steals my mothers shoes that conveniently always end up in my bedroom…

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Falling

Falling in love has been as easy as falling to me
It’s not

I’m tall so I don’t have to wear heels
My confidence doesn’t come from having someone else to support me

I hate the idea of everyone looking at you being vulnerable
Exposing so much of myself to one person is unthinkable to me

The thought of not being able to control my own body is terrifying
Or having someone else want to be near it is just as bad

To fail at something so simple as walking is demoralising
So my brain tells me that it’s not worth it

I’m concentrating so much on my feet that I have forgotten to look up
I forget that I should just be naturally able to do it

I’ve never been a clumsy person
But sometimes I wish I was

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