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I often feel like an outsider. When I go to a gig and people are talking so loudly that I can’t hear the music, I feel like I’m the only one bothered by it. I’m the odd one out. When I see someone throw litter out of their car window, I feel completely alienated from…
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When you take a plant that has defiantly tried to grow in a pot that doesn’t give it enough space and transplant it into a bigger one, it doesn’t always thrive as you would hope. Its roots maintain the shape of its previous home, having grown inwards and not realising they now have space to…
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I want to do everything, experience everything. I want to live openly, I want to grow constantly. It recently occurred to me that this is much like a toddler experiences and interacts with the world. So if I want to live like a toddler, I have actually to live like a toddler.
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You know when you watch a film and it ends with “and it was all just a dream”? I fucking hate that! I hate that so much.
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“Writing is like driving at night in the fog. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way”
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Recently, I’ve been struggling with anxiety and stress about bullshit life tasks I need to deal with – mostly those damn fucking windows. And it has been horrible. I felt like I couldn’t do it. But I had to. But I couldn’t. But I had to. Etc. And all the other things in life started…
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