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

Optimistic people
Encouragement from everyone

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


instagram | twitter pinterest | tumblr 



I can’t wait to meet you when we’re older
To have you look in my eye and realise
How insignificant
Everything you did was

I’ll forgive you in an instant but I don’t think you know that
You stopped wanting to get to know me
Now the four years we knew each other
Is outweighed by the four that we don’t

I liked your first four years
It was the fifth I had a problem with
But if someone can change in four years
Maybe they can change back in another four

I hope we make eye contact
I hope it all comes back to you
I hope we can reminisce on the first four years
And just forget about the other four

I really can’t wait to meet you when we’re older


instagram | twitter pinterest | tumblr


You never knew why you were never my friend
I could spot your inner you
Clouded by an aura that enticed people to you
Confident vibes given off
But I only ever saw you as mean

I know you tried to get close
I know you know I didn’t want to

Very subtle ways
That you weren’t used to
Trying to shake off the feeling
Of not being liked for the first time

You never impressed me
Much to your dismay
Of using big words
So others would deem you important

But big words are viscous
Laughing at those who didn’t know
Bluffing their way to get your affection

I know what it’s like to be attracted to a personality
Letting go of all gut instinct
Unintentionally being passive and naive
Vulnerable to be taken advantage of
I never knew how people felt that way for you

I watched how you acknowledged that power
And liked it too much

I’ve never been your friend
I’ve never told you why
Keeping my head above the water
Before I get attacked
By your viscous words
Or people pleasers who would believe anything
Just because you told them to


instagram | twitter pinterest | tumblr 

The Stand – by Cathy Lee

The moon rises earlier each night
That’s a sight I can see and be certain of its reality.
Something unlike this.

The time ticks past and is somehow semi-permanent
As I sit waiting.
With the sense of regret and neglect hanging like the low moon of the early evening.

An evening was all that was planned, of duration time, all dated and set.
Something to represent the desire, of relaxation and little regret.

A fixation I wanted fixed.
A friendship formed, gradual and continuous
Something new started, sudden and ambitious.

I sit and wait some more and hope for the knock.
Look to the the door, the clock, the floor.

Out the window the moon rises, earlier each night.
At the sight, I know it’s time.

I turned out the lights.

Hi Friends! So due to so many essays and assignments this week I fell a bit behind on my blogging. However, I decided to embrace the fact I live with writers and feature the lovely Cathy Lee this week. ❤

Inspired by the Red Door

I never lived in a cold house
The rooms were always vibrant
The walls was never bare
Each spot held a different memory

My mother wanted a silver kitchen
So she painted over the oak wood
On a weekend dad was working
My neighbours stood horrified at the door
My father stood with disbelief at first
But couldn’t help but laugh
And decided to change our kitchen

I always liked the wood
And fond yellow memories remind me of it
But I was old enough to remember the process of building a new kitchen
And celebrating my dads birthday in the dogs room
Instead of the room that was under construction

To match the walls came a bright red door
Did I say match?
Sorry, no
It matched nothing
It still matches nothing
It’s been eleven years

I remember at age six thinking she was insane
All my clothes had to match in colour scheme
I was never seen without a handbag to match my shoes
My nails also had a dash of the colour I was wearing
So why on earth would she want a red door?
But that was not the start nor the end of random objects

Also in the kitchen was a giant silver whale
Hung on the wall almost two meters wide
Never really questioned by anyone
The story of how my parents were so broke
But mum wanted the whale
Well… we all know how the red door happened
This isn’t much different

But my home isn’t just filled with things
It’s filled with memories

Pots of flowers my aunt grew on the window sill
Buddah powered by the sun that my sister bought
The postcard wall from cousins, friends, family
Fake bonsai tree
Crystal whisky set unused
Yellow sunshine quotes
Birthday cards
Always a radio

I never thought these items had much effect on me
Until I reflected on my own home
With bunting
Birthday Decorations
Handmade crafts
And a radio

In my own house today
With three friends I adore
I still believe I’m inspired
By the quirky fire red door