A Letter To A Younger Me

Hey you.

It has been a while. I hope you do not think that I have been neglecting you. I didn’t realise how much I needed to separate you from me to get to where we are going. So much has happened since we last sat in our favourite places together; I want to speak indisputable truths to you, but I can’t help but think it best that we first remember the place where we first started this journey together.

I know you feel alone. A deep and immovable glass blanket of sorrow burns at the seams of what makes you you. I know the memories have created insurmountable walls to the inner being that lives inside of you. I know you built a tower of steel around yourself. And I know you painted that windowless prison with flowers, so that no one but you would ever see the desolation that ravages the inhabitants of your palace.

Oops, I Slayed my Sunday

“How are you!?”

“Oh, yeah, you know, Mondays”

Spilled coffee, a two-day hangover crisp with potential regrets, one mis-matched sock because you overslept and rushed out the door – and the deep sad recognition that the weekend is over and a new week has only just begun.

Monday’s, am I right? I’m sure they have gone down in history as the most hated and absolutely useless day of the week. After two days of mindless frolicking you are back to the organised reality of the real world. On top of that there is often this innate uselessness that you feel on a Monday; like somehow all the experience you had doing whatever it is that you fill your days with has somehow just… evaporated and left you as a the dimwitted newbie that just started. Phone calls become harder, you aren’t quite sure if you just called in a client or actually told them to leave you alone, you probably mispronounced a word that made you sound like a dick, and now you have to get your stuff together and try and do a presentation to a room full of people. It is highly likely that you will cry afterward.

Monsters Under The Bed: Self-Awareness and the Fall of Rome.

I consider myself an utter bat case half of the time. Most days I barely have the same pair of socks on, and even then, when I have a day where I’m feeling good about myself, I more often than not will trip in the middle of a crowded area or dribble coffee down my chin, having it land in a poetically ostracised way on my almost definitely wrinkled blouse.

I mean, as a 24-year-old, I am not sure whether there is a right answer to what you’re supposed to be doing with your life. I think most don’t have it figured out in their 20’s. Heck! I don’t think a lot of people get it figured out by their 40’s (even Instagram models and Judges – I swear to ya!).

Magic Vials, Happy Smiles and the Facade of Happiness

Is it just me, or is society today obsessed with happiness. No matter where you look there is some person, some brand, some icon, someone or something selling the next big idea or item that ought to bring us happiness. What’s more, we are being sold the idea that happiness is something we can search for; happiness is just around the corner, just keep following the little crumbs and one day soon, you will get the entire cookie.