The Rose in the Lily Pond

It’s been 3 months, 28 days and 12 hours since I’ve heard from you. Every morning I race to the letterbox and every morning is the same. Nothing but a few bills. I can’t do anything but wait. Wait for a letter from you, or wait for a letter from the Government. Please Jeremy, please write. I don’t want that letter from the Government. I don’t care about sentiments. Don’t tell me how much you love me. Don’t tell me how much you miss me. All I want is two words. I’m alive. That’s it… Please write Jeremy. Please. Yesterday I smashed a plate. For no apparent reason I picked it up and threw it on the floor. A shard cut into my leg, and you know what Jeremy, I savoured it. I relished in the pain and let the blood drip down my leg and onto the ground. I stared at it with relief; all this pain and frustration finally had a release. It was cleansing Jeremy. It was good therapy. Please write Jeremy, Please. A young girl sits on the bus. She has her iPod plugged in and she stares out the

Six Feet Under is a television series that I suggest everyone watches. I am so glad that when I was doing my undergraduate studies I would procrastinate by watching this series back to back, because it taught me a more valuable lesson than any essay I was writing at the time. It taught me to appreciate birthdays. Seeing death on a constant basis in crazy, unusual, and instant ways ingrains how much of a privilege life is, and how fragile it can be.  Turning another year older is ultimately what we all strive for. It’s what we want. I recently celebrated my 26 th birthday! Yes, it kind of snuck up on me; I’m not quite sure when that happened? I still remember my 21 st birthday so clearly! Still I have done a lot of living in 26 years, and even though there is still so much to achieve, 26 seems like a bit of alright. Another pearl of wisdom that I learnt 3 years ago is that time doesn’t matter as long as you are happy with where you are in life. The moment that I had that epiphany, I

These are those moments that aren’t that significant at the time, but send you down a rabbit hole of something a hell of a lot bigger. My friend Janine brought me an acting class from one of those daily deal websites, and I was forced to define one of these moments. We were tested to act out something in your life that you wished you did differently, and it brought me back to primary school in Collingwood, Goldenbay. I was “friends” with a group of girls that weren’t all that nice. Everyone had their turn of being on the outside, but it seemed to be me and another girl, Amelia, that used to get picked on more than the others. I used to live in fear of getting on the school bus because I didn’t know whether my “friends” would speak to me or not. The days that I was on the outside were the loneliest days of my life, and I used to spend lunch times in the solitary confinement of the bathroom, or searching through the lost property because I couldn’t handle the shame of sitting by myself.