02.04.2019 | a thing


so this is a thing. i don’t know about it but i hope you like it??? it’s titled by the date i wrote it on. i kinda have these insane
so yeah.

the time we spend here is short. too short. there is not enough time to do all that we wish we can. its a book. you open it and read, but there are not enough pages to continue the story on, so you have to start another, once that story is finished. some books are short. some are long. the time we have here is the same. some spend longer here than others, some spend just hours, some several decades. fate decides the length of time we have, decides how long one is to stay, stay here. any time, however, is too little. there is not enough time to complete all that we wish to complete in the short time placed into our hands, mere years. we waste so much of that. like the book. so many of the pages are wasted. wasted on pointless chat, filler sentences. so much space that could have been used to extend the story, wasted on pointless waffling. the hours we spend on the useless – the mundane – could be spent on so much more, so much more than that which it is. but the pages of the mundane are important. important to help tell the story. to give the reader a break from the frantic action of the battle. we have the ability to hurl ourselves into a constant book of battle but no pausing could break us, smash our fragile core, weakened by the blows taken on the battlefield. we must pause, let the waffling play out as it will, in order to create some sense of order and calm in the story. we must break before tossing ourselves back into the chaos of the battles we fight to continue on, keep on as we must, to get through.

we are in control of the story we write ourselves. in control of the battles we write into it. the wars we choose to fight. we are in control of the amount of pain inflicted on the characters, ourselves and those around us. we choose how we cause them pain. we write their pain into our stories. the pain shapes us, shapes our character development, forced us to change as we are. the pain makes us and breaks us. but it heals. it heals. it causes the pain and the shock necessary to keep one wishing to continue on with the novel they choose to pick up and read.we must keep the interest, the interest is kept only by keep inflicting harm upon those, keeping the battles going, keeping the characters on their toes. we choose the battles we fight, those we choose to win, those we choose to lose. we write those losses into the story, carefully crafted so the pain necessary is there, but the blow is not too brutal, too harsh.

we write the ways in which we must. we write the things that happen in our life, the things that are choices. fate decides the rest. the fates tell us the things, they are further in control of our stories than we are, they are the ones who make the final decisions on the stories. they are the editors, but also, at the same time exactly, they are the authors, possibly the narrators. they give the ideas, the guidance, the guidelines and then proceed to leave the entire story alone, leaving us to write it in the ways we wish. they come back at the end and cull the parts of it that they dislike, remove the pieces they do not agree with. the fates make the final cuts on the written works. the pieces we write, the stories, must go through them before they are published to the outside world. the page counts must be chopped, more pieces of work must be eliminated. the length must be cut down, to ensure reader interest or to ensure that more stories are read, the world will never know. the fates will only know that.

we spend the time we have fretting. fearing that we are not writing the story correctly. afraid that the words will not make sense to the one who chooses to read them. dreading the day the fates ask for the piece to be handed in. we fret about the grammar, the spelling, the punctuation. we do not fret about the content. we know the fates will deal with that. they will cut the unimportant pieces from the story. they will cut it down so it is less waffle and more battle. the fates will do the job they know they must. we fear the worst for the things we do. we spend more of the novel on the fears we have about the end result than we do on the real content of the story. the body. more of the time we have is spent crafting the story than actually writing it. it is spent planning out the ideas, separating the paragraphs, outlining, creating characters, scenes, a structure. we do not focus on the format, the wording. we focus more on the planning. plan it to a t.

we think about the end more than anything. about what will happen in the end, how the fates will react. we dont think about the things we are writing. the content. the battles. the waffling. to us, all that matters, is the end. the end. what will happen at the end. how the ending will go. we focus not on the story we tell, but on the end. we seem to plan from the end, through to the beginning. writing the novel of our lives in a backwards fashion that we think will help us. that we think will be useful. we write everything backwards. the battles. the deaths. the harm caused, pain caused, to those around us. we write the result and then the method.

we dont know, right from the start, our place in the world. we ramble on and on, pages upon pages are filled with our rambles as we attempt to find our way in the world. find our place. the place that we belong as people. we go on and on until we find that place. where we believe so much that we will be happy. from there, we lead ourselves in another rambling mess, speckled with battles. rushed wars fought against the world as it attempts to cut us down, take us before our time. some of us are taken then. taken before our time. some of us continue. fight further more battles. make further more sacrifices. we continue on, without those who were there. those who were taken before their time. and we go on. without, them.

so yeah. that was a thing. it kinda ends oddly, but i kinda speak when i write things out and they turn out very different when you speak them the way they’re intended to be. i might record something like that one day, who knows?

anyway, have a night night y’all
emily xo

Midway Thoughts #1 | Moving On

Hi folks.

It’s been a couple of days since my last moving on post and I’m back again. This series will be covering the process of moving house and moving on from that, it will cover wverything that goes on in that process and not glorify it. It makes it very real and shows the grief of leaving the place you call home and moving to a new one. Both of the previous posts in this series will be linked at the end of this post, but very quickly to recap what has happened in them both:
The first post discussed finding out that we were going to be selling up and moving. It covered my initial thoughts and talked about the place we are moving from.
The second post talked about everything that had happened in the nine weeks from that first post and the fact that we were now moving. It also covered the place we were moving to and the times between sale and movement.
This post will cover my thoughts now, just before we move in a few days. It will cover the things I am happy about and the things I am not happy about along with the emotions I am currently feeling towards this move.

Now into the post, enjoy!

When I heard that the sale had gone through, there was a full moon and I sat outside for 2 hours and watched it. I didn’t know what to think about moving. I cried a lot that night, an awful lot. Almost all that I could think about was what was going to happen, I felt numb and sad. There was a sense of dread in my heart and I wasn’t sure why or what would happen. I think that this caused a lot of the anxiety that I felt in those initial stages. Then it was still a while away, six weeks, and it still didn’t feel real.

Since that time, it’s become a lot more real, but I still don’t think that I ‘know’ what’s going on, four days before the move. I know more than I did, how I’m feeling, but I’m still not super clear on that. I’ll go into more detail on that soon, but for now I want to cover what I’m thinking about the move.
My anxiety has been heightened by the move, but I’ve also felt a lot calmer. It’s been a sense of utter empty calm that I’ve felt, and I’m unsure as to why that is. My emotions have been pretty much flat-lining, before flaring up again, but when they do flare up, it’s not for long, an hour or two.
I’ve been filling my days with a lot of things, I had school camp, a bunch of school tests and I’ve been out with friends more than I ever have. It’s been common for me to go out and just be with friends for two hours after school. It’s been giving me an excuse to forget about moving. But when I get back from all of that and the moving thoughts come back, everything crashes. My depressive episodes have been more regular, but shorter. They’ll be there for an hour, a day, and then they won’t be there. If I get depressed, I get anxious and then the anxiety takes over the depression and it’s not there anymore.
Maybe that’s just being a teenager who fills their days with a whole bunch of stuff, takes classes that require a lot of thought, has unstable friendships and travels a lot, but for me, it’s weird. I’m anxious, but I’m empty. I get the feeling I do when I’m depressed, the emptiness, but I get anxious. There are no thoughts there, but I’m still freaking out about all the thoughts. When there is that gentle sense of ease, calm, it’s scary. Everything is scary.
Right, enough of that. Now the rest of the thoughts, the two emotions that I have avoided covering up there so I can cover them now; sadness and excitement.

I’m sad about moving. About having to get rid of all of the animals but the cats, the dog and the rabbits, the last of which will be gone when we’ve moved. I’m sad about leaving the place I’ve called home for the last six and a half years. I’m sad about losing the land. THe place, the house. I’m sad that I’m going to be losing it all.
I’m sad about it all, it’s all so big and great and scary and it’s just making me sad. Getting rid of the animals took a much greater toll on me that I originally thought it would, but it’s getting better now, slowly.

Next emotion that is really incredibly confusing to me, excitement. I’m excited about moving, and this is a shock to me. I’m sad about it, so incredibly sad about it, but I’m also happy. I’m excited to be in a new place, to have the time to go out in the afternoon and walk the dog. To not be driving three hours a day. I’m excited to be able to go out to movies with my friends on the weekends, to be able to go around to friends places, to be able to do all of the things with my friends that I currently can’t. I’m excited to be moving into a place with bigger rooms, more rooms. I’m excited to see what my room will look like, excited to get a new bed, redecorate the room. I’m excited to see what the aesthetic of the room will end up like. I’m excited because there will be two spare rooms and one will be a music room and the other will be a spare bedroom-sewing room which makes me so happy. I’ll have more storage space, more room, more light. I’m excited to see what we do with the house, what we do with the gardens. I’m excited to have more time, to get home earlier.
It’s the things that excite me that are keeping me going through this. There are more of them, yes, but they’re smaller, sillier things, but it’s good. It’s getting me through this. Through the difficult times of having to get rid of pets, of animals, of the place that I have called home for the past six and a half years.

Those are my mid-way thoughts, dears. I’ll have another set of these in about a week, when I’ve been in the new place for about four days, and we’ll see how I’m feeling then! I’ll be posting these very regularly for now, so keep checking your inbox for them!!!

peace out ma dudes,
emily xo

Previous Posts:
Moving On #1
Moving On #2

Moving Update | Moving On

Hello, children.

It’s been a while, especially since I have done a moving on post. If you’re new here, Moving On is a series in which I discuss the fact that we are moving. I also cover the issues I am having with this, my thoughts and why I think it’s going to be like that. I addition to the above stated things, I talk about the pros and con of moving, the packing process and what it involves for me, the houses and properties we are moving to and from and the process of grieving, moving on from it and just my life around this in general. For the next two weeks I will be posting every one or two days on this topic, I will be covering the reason for that in this update post because it has been about six weeks since I last posted. Right, onward.

In the last post on this, I talked about living here, when we moved here and what it’s been like since then. I also discussed what we’re moving from and where we were thinking of moving to at that point int time, January 18th. The whole post is linked at the bottom of the page in case you missed it.

In this post I will be updating all of that and just giving an overview of everything that has happened in the past two months surrounding the moving process and what is going to be happening in the next couple of weeks. Enjoy, leave a comment and give it a like!

Since January, we have sold our house and bought a new house. About a weeks after that last post on this, we put the house up for sale, and the next day we had had people come into view it and had an offer in on the place. A week later, we had accepted the offer and were looking for a new house of our own. I can’t remember the exact timing of this all, because it was a log time ago and everything has just been super, super hectic and crazy and everything has been incredibly busy and I really haven’t had time to think about it all. Anyway, after about 3 weeks of searching, we had a house that we had put an offer in on, and a couple of weeks later, everything there was confirmed and we had the house as our own. That was five weeks ago yesterday (22 March, 2019).

We move into the new house on Friday (29 March, 2019), six weeks after sale confirmation went through, 2 months after we first began thinking abut moving. It’s been a full five weeks since we had confirmation of the sale on this property and everything had been sorted on the new one, and it still hasn’t sunk in. It’s still very raw, very fake and very pretend, I don’t think I really realise that it’s real yet, I don’t think I will until everything is out of this house and in the new one. (Oh, btw, I will be posting empty house tours on my other blog when we’re moving, sometime at the start of April, so keep an eye out for those!!!)

The place that we are moving to is a two story town house thing. It’s in a small town about 15 minutes away from the place I go to school and my mother works, there is a bus that goes from my school to the house. The actual place we are moving to is on a 900m2 piece of land, mostly taken up by the building and concreted areas. The house is nice, it has a small kitchen, large living areas, six bedrooms, two bathrooms, three toilets, a small laundry and a garage out the back. That’s it in short. There are a few other things there too (Harry Potter closet, linen cupboards and the like) but that is it. There is a small grassed area out the front and another out the back, a bunch of gardens, an outdoor barbecue area and a small grassy strip down the side of the house. It’s on a street just off the main road, about 50 metres or so down and it’s surrounded on all sides by more houses and a road.
I know that it sounds like a house a lot of people live in, and it’s actually nice, and yes, I’ll admit all of that, but for me, it’s a huge change. There’s not enough land for me to bring most of my animals and I’m having to make decisions as to which animals I am going to taking, and which I am going to be leaving behind.

We move in on Friday, we leave here on Friday. There is a drive of a little over an hour between the two places which is good, but it’s still hard.

For now, this is my update post, I have a bunch more scheduled to be up in the next few days (one every two days). They will all be about this same sort of thing, so stick around for that! That’s all for now!!!

peace out ma dudes,
emily xo

Previous posts:
Moving On #1

A Fear of Leaving? | Moving On

Hi peoples.

That started really morbid, but that’s okay. This post is going to be really morbid and reminiscent.

So so so. If you didn’t already know (and I really wouldn’t expect you to unless you a. follow my Instagram and actually read my captions, b. read every single tiny thing in this post or c. are one of my like, very close friends who I rant to) we are trying to sell the house. Sell the house and move closer to school and work.
This post is going to be about a whole lot of things that I’m thinking about this entire moving thing. It’s pretty much going to be me being kinda sad about it all. I don’t know why, but I feel sad and I’ll cover all that in the post.

Pretty much this post is going to be split in half and I might will do another post on pros and cons and maybe something else. I might to a bunch of moving blog posts, I don’t know now. But we’re starting with this. Half of it’s going to be me being super sad and hating stuff and the other little tiny bit is going to be thinking about positives. If there are any. Let’s go.

editing me: screw that there’s no happiness in this. it’s all sad and morbid. you’ve been warned

As a super quick start thing, we moved up here in 2012 when I was 8 from our house in Christchurch where I had been living for all but one month of my life. We were on a small piece of land there and lived in a smallish village with people close and a small amount of land, chickens, some animals and a huge vege garden.
We moved up here to the North Island on idk the date, I’ll edit this and insert it here (the date was 12 November 2012) when I was 8 and my sisters were almost 1 and 3. We now live with a whole bunch of animals (we’re talking rabbits, budgies, chickens, cows, alpaca, sheep, goats, pigs, calves, cats and dogs) and lots of land and some kinda vege gardens in the middle of fricking nowhere.
That’s just what the house and shit where we are now is like versus the place we use to live. Pros and cons of both, obviously. But this ain’t about all that, this is about moving from here, to somewhere new. And my thoughts. Clearly.

Super quickly, we’re painting the house to try to get more money and sell it better? If that made sense. We’re also not moving heaps, just 1-2 hours away from where we currently are. Let’s go.

So I was in my room for most of the day today and went out to feed rabbits, shower and get some food before about 1. Then I came back in and did more stuff and people went out and I was asked to put away some dishes. Which I did at 5pm. So at 5pm I left my room and walked down the corridor and into the dining room before turning to go into the kitchen and stopping. And I cried. I’m not going to lie here, I stopped and turned into the kitchen and just stopped walking and cried. Which is not unusual for me, I cry all the time, but usually because I’m depressed (which, surprise, I am because I’d been being nostalgic and people are being shitty currently) or anxious (which I also am) but those are not the reasons I cried then. I cried because I looked at the kitchen and it was almost empty. There was nothing of the walls and it just looked so empty. There were all the appliances and utensils and stuff still there, but it was empty. There was no noticeboard, no cookbook-shelf, no little coffee sign. There were no bottles on the cupboards and fridge, no people, no books, no curtains. There was nothing but the things that had to be there, the cutlery and utensils, the plates and bowls and a few things on the benches. The knife racks had been taken down, the appliances had been pulled away from the walls. Everything had moved and it made me cry. I was so saddened by its emptiness and I didn’t know what to do.

I literally walked into the kitchen and just walked around. And I didn’t know why. I was just watching everything, looking at everything. Noticing every little thing that was missing. All the books and stuff. There was NOTHING that made it our kitchen. And I was broken. For no particular reason other than that. It didn’t look like our kitchen. Sure, the walls were still there, our appliances were still there, our fridges, our cupboards, but anyone could have had those things. The things that made the kitchen ours weren’t there. The little notes and pictures on the noticeboard, the little coffee sign, the books with their little scribbles in the margins, the bottles and torch and jars that cluttered the tops of things and annoyed me. It may have annoyed me how cluttered everything was, but I think the big thing I want to say here, was that it was ours. It was very unique, very special, very clearly ours with all that stuff there. And without it, it didn’t seem ours.

I don;t know what’s going to happen after the kitchen is painted, I don’t know whether we’re going to be putting everything back up or not. I don’t know whether all of the things that made it mine are going to be back or if they’re just going to stay down. But we’re painting it. We’re taking away the ugly, old, off-white colour of the walls and ceiling and we’re replacing it with bright white and mushroom. And that’s big That doesn’t make it mine. Even empty like it is now, the kitchen still has those colours that make it mine. But with what’s happening with it, with the colours, it’s not going to be my kitchen. Even with all the things back in it. It’s just going to be a kitchen.

The kitchen is going to remind me whenever I look at it, that we’re moving. That we’re leaving here, the place I’ve learnt to call home.

We repainted the dining room a while ago, repainted the bathroom and the hallway. That was before we were moving. Before we had decided to put the house on the market. And I loved the new looks then, I still do, but I can’t help but think now, about the old colours. About the old bathroom. About the awful orange and white dining room and the pink frieze around the hallway. I can’t help but think about all of those things and think about what they are now. The creams and the mushrooms and the whites. And I love them as they are, but it makes me sad. Because I was here for 6 years and those were all like that. As horrible as they were, they made this place home for me. The foot mark on the mirror in the bathroom that I looked over to wash my face twice a day, it’s gone now. Everything like that is gone.

And then there’s my personal stuff. I spent a week decluttering and tidying out my room. Removing a whole bunch of the things I didn’t need anymore. All the things that were too annoying, took up too much space. They all went. And I cried. I cried a lot during that time. Finding things that old friends had given me, going through my camera and finding pictures from years ago when I had different friends, friends who I haven’t spoken to in a year, in two years, three. And then there were photos of people who I was friends with last year but am not now. And those hurt me, Everything hurt me. Clearing out my camera log, my laptop, my phone. Clearing out my old schoolbooks even made me sad. I found pictures of a young me. A me from years ago. And I cried over them too. I cried over the pictures of me when I could fit clothes I now can’t, pictures of me with animals I’ve lost, Friends and family I’ve lost. And it was hard.
I threw away things I’d been given years ago, found old phone numbers, email addresses of people who had promised to contact me, who I’d promised to contact, but never had. And I threw them all out. I threw out bags upon bags of fabric that had been under my desk for months, yarn that I’d had for years. I threw out, took apart, things that I’d worked hard on last year, the year before, because they took up a whole bunch of space and didn’t need to.

And it hit home for me really this afternoon when I walked into the kitchen. It all hit home. This wasn’t going to be home for much longer. I was going to have to call somewhere else home. Because this would no longer be it. And that’s hard for me.

It took me a while to call this place home, because I was so used to the place we used to live being home. For me, as a young child, I didn’t understand it fully, didn’t understand that this was now home, this was now the place that I had to call home. Because it was. But I was young, I didn’t really think about all that, I didn’t really think about this place not being home. It took a while to grip that concept, but this place was home soon enough. Now I’m older, I’m 15 in 6 months time, I’m going into my second year of highschool, I’ve finished primary school, I’ve been to two different primary schools and have been homeschooled for a year. I’ve been here for 6 years and to me it’s more of my life than in Christchurch. Yes, in time I was there for longer than I’ve been here, but I wasn’t able to remember a whole lot of that. I can remember little things, I still wake up at 3am and draw my old schools, yes, I still recall all my old friends names, the street names, my old phone number, but I don’t remember a lot of the things that went on down there. I was too young. But I’ve been here for a lot of, most of, the age where I am able to remember things, to create core memories. Being up here is what has really shaped who I am. And I’m leaving that. I don’t know what makes that so difficult to comprehend, but it is hard to comprehend.

I think that for me, moving is going to be hard. Having to call a new place ‘home’ when this has been home for most of my memorable life is going to be difficult. I don’t know how long it’s going to take me to have to ability to call somewhere else home, but I know it’s not going to be fast, it’s not going to be easy.

For me, a huge thing about moving is that we’re not moving to somewhere like here. We’re not moving from the middle of fricking nowhere to the middle of fricking nowhere but closer to school, we’re moving from the middle of fricking nowhere to somewhere. To a centre. To somewhere close to a town, a city. We’re moving away from somewhere where you can walk for 10 minutes and get to a place where you cannot see any civilisation to somewhere where we’ll be close to civilisation. Which is hard.
We’ll be moving from somewhere with animals and space and open air to somewhere where we may not have land, may not have animals, may be surrounded on all sides by houses and people. We’re going to have to give up the majority of our animals, our sheep and calves that we’ve raised from 2 days old, since birth in some cases, we’re going to have to get rid of the cows who have become our family, the alpaca who was a gift for my sister. We’re going to have to possibly get rid of the rabbits, my babies for the last 5 years even though the actual animal has changed, the animal has stayed the same. We may have to give up more, maybe the chickens, maybe others, I don’t know, I don’t want to know, I don’t want to know how much of an impact this is going to have on me. Not being able to walk out and go down to the creek, walking the paths I cantered up on the horses, I’m not going to be able to go and sit by the resting spot of my horse and just talk to her like I did when she was alive. I’m not going to be able to do that. I’m not going to be able to walk to the top of the hill and scream and have no one hear me. To stand there and just be for hours on end until I’m cold and windblown. That’s not going to be able to happen. There’s not going to be the nature.

I’ve been walking with the dog for the past few nights, just up and down the hills a few times, just walkking for an hour or so, just walking. And it’s been nice. It’s been really nice. But I walk and then I get back home and remember that that is going to be something that this time next year, I may not be doing. Because we probably won’t be here next year. And that hurts It hurts to say that, write that,

Okay, I’m full out crying now. Great. Anyway, continuing.

I talked to Mum a few days ago, a week or so ago, and I said that I probably wouldn’t be able to have a birthday party this year because none of my friends really need to drive all the way out here to say happy birthday when I can go out with a couple of them on the last day of school as a birthday thing. But then Mum said that we probably wouldn’t be here by then. By July. And that hit home. It hit me so hard that we probably wouldn’t get to be here for my 15th birthday. and that’s scary. Because I love this place and I would really like to have that one last birthday here, whether I have friends here or not, I want to be here. Because this is home. And I don’t want to have my birthday anywhere but home. I don’t care if my friends can’t be here, I like private, quiet birthdays and 15 isn’t that big, but I want to be here. Here. Where home is. Not somewhere that isn’t home. That isn’t a place I know. I don’t want that.

It’s late now and I’m full out sobbing and struggling to write now, so I might just stop, but I needed to get that out, out of my system because it’s really hard for me to deal with and I want others to know it. I don’t know why, but that’s what this blog is for. So yes. Thank you if you read through this full thing and I’m sorry it ended so abruptly but I actually couldn’t write anything else and this is meant to be up in 5 minutes and I’ve gotta do graphics, editing and tags so we’ll see how that goes.

I’ll continue to update you on how this house selling shit goes, but thanks again for reading this.

editing me: it’s 11:18pm and i’m done. this was meant to be up at 11 but oh well, it’ll get up!

see you in the next post!
emily xo

Bad…Things…About 2018 | Bye-Bye 2018 | Not So Positive it Would Seem?! Surprised???

I just realised what the last one of these post was titled, great English Emily, just fab!

So we’re back to the normal thing on this blog, the negatives! Yay! What fun! This post is on all the negatives of this past year! I’m limiting myself to just 12 (like the last post) so I am able to write this in the time I have. Else I could go on for several days about this.

That’s positive! Yay! But yeah, clearly this post is going to be a tad depressing. Oops.

  • My mental health was not good. I went so far downhill in this past year, it wasn’t good. I think that this was the worst thing about 2018, I was constantly sad and constantly sad. It just was so hard at times to actually stay alive, but I did. I did do it.
  • No self care. Like, none at all. I didn’t take care of myself. I had times where I would not shower for a week, not get up until 2pm. I didn’t sleep enough, I didn’t eat correctly or enough, and what’s water? Yeah, it wasn’t good. It wasn’t okay.
  • I lost friends. I lost several friends I had made last year this year after moving schools, but I also lost friends from this school. I removed several people from my life in the first and second school terms because they were hurting me…and I did the same only a couple of days ago. It hurts, a lot.
  • Stress I stressed so much about everything. My head attacked me because I was stressing so much about so many useless things. It wasted so much of my life.
  • My relationship with my parents pretty much died.I don’t spend enough time at home to see my parents enough, or any of my family really. I have had an odd relationship with my parents before but this year it was pretty non-existent and when it was, I was ranting, crying or screaming about something.
  • I didn’t read many books. In all, this year, I have read 35 books. My Goodreads has been pretty much deleted this year and I’m sad. I didn’t do what I wanted this year with reading.
  • I didn’t tell people things I wanted to. People who can help me to get these things, the things that will ease my issues. And I think…I know…that this was because I was scared of what they would say. I didn’t tell my parents I want a chest binder because I think that will react badly. Stuff like that I haven’t told people. I regret that.
  • Not blogging much. I really regret not blogging as much as I want to have done, and when I have blogged this year, it’s been about some pretty depressing things! Which isn’t fun. Or good.
  • Feeling discrimination and hate. Pretty much this is just from the wider world. I didn’t suffer from much, but I felt some, especially after I came out, but that’s okay. After joining Instagram I have seen so much hate and discrimination and it just makes me so sad and angry.
  • Not studying and taking notes. I got good grades this year, yes, but I didn’t study or take notes as I ought to have. This is a huge regret of mine. I’m very annoyed about it.
  • Stopping running. I stopped running seriously and was just running every now and then for the majority of the year but I injured my knee and am out of running. It’s affecting me so much, my mental state is just going right down. I’m hoping to get into more yoga and unicycling in the new year to help this.
  • Not taking risks. There are so many things I wish I had done this year, but I was just too scared to do them. I really feel bad I didn’t do any of these things, they would have been good.

So, that’s the end of me being all sad and negative and depressive! For now! In the new year I hope to start posting happier things, so more recipes and DIYs and things like that, just lighten this place up a bit!

And what about you? Many negative things in your life this year? What did you think of my sad and depressing negatives of 2018? Do talk, I shall reply. I promise I don’t bite!

see you in the next post!
emily xo

Good…Things…About 2018 | Starting off Bye-Bye 2018 | Me Being POSITIVE For Once!

I’m beginning this now because otherwise I will completely forget to do it. So I’m doing in now. That’s good, I’m glad you understand that.

So I am going to be all happy and positive for once. Don’t worry though, my dudes, the next post will be my least things about 2018! This was meant to be moments, but maybe that’ll be later because there aren’t many unfortunately

I met lots of amazing human peoples and made some new friends! Now, these were mainly irl, but some were online, y’all know who you are. Thanks my dudes for the year, I LOVE Y’ALL SO MUCH!

I came out! I think, me thinks, that this was good? I hope this was good? But I came out about my sexuality, gender aaaaannnnddddd my mental illnesses and eating ‘issues’. Was this good.

I got good school results! We had end of year results back and I got top marks in most of my classes! I also got these same sort of results throughout the rest of the year, so that’s a good thing!

RASPBERRIES!!! I love raspberries. I have an addiction to raspberries. I ate raspberries! Lots of raspberries!

I got my hair cut. And like it! If you follow me on Instagram you might know that I got my hair cut and hated it. This was last week on Friday. I now love it. So that’s all good. (it’s above if you wanted to know)

I planned out, and got halfway through, a novel! This is an ongoing process but it’s getting there. I’m hoping to finish the novel sometime in the first half of the new year, hopefully before NaNo starts in July.

I started Instagram! Yeah, that happened. I started about 10 accounts and then forgot the passwords to all of them and had to restart. I still have four though. Which is a lot?

I saw the new Fantastic Beasts movie! Shoutout to Elizabeth for going with me to this on Tuesday! It was so much fun and a really good movie. And I saw it!

TRENCH CAME OUT!!! And I died. And got obsessed with it. twenty one pilots released Trench at the start of October and it was amazing. It is amazing. I’m going to do a whole post of 2018 music, but for now, TFRENCH!

I found a ‘new’ me? I matured. I got older. I found a new side of me that I didn’t know I had. Again, this will be in another post on how 2018 changed me, but for now, we’ll just say that.

Aaron Phillips happened! If you haven’t heard of Aaron Phillips here’s a brief explanation. Aaron Phillips is a black, trans, non-binary, disabled teen model who has challenged pretty much everything in the modelling world this past year. Go Aaron is all I can say! Thank you!

I was in a team that won a nationwide competition! This happened in September and was possibly the best moment of 2018 for me. It was a good thing in 2018. Thanks to that team for helping and getting us where we got to!

THIS BLOG GREW SO MUCH! I logged in this morning and saw that I had 340 WordPress followers and 10 email followers! It’s amazing, and I can’t thank you all enough for your support. We’ve over doubled the follower count from this time last year!

So that’s the end of that, I think we all dwell a lot on the bad things and we need to stop. So this is a positive post. About good things.
So what about y’all? What good things happened to you and the world in 2018? Please share! I’d love to know!

see you in the next post!
emily xo

Comparatively Writing | Writing from 2015 to Now | Reminiscing on the Past #1

This is the first ‘official’ post in this series. I think it will be a bit of fun to see how my writing has changed since 2015, when I was in year six. I found these stories the other day in class with a friend and cringed over them. Then cried over them. Then jumped up and down about them. Then cried about them some more. Because as a person I’ve changed so much. As a person, you can see how my mental health has affected me, how it has hurt me. Even since then, even in the last few years. 

You’ll see in a few minutes, but what I think has changed the most in the times I have written this is not my writing style and the grammar I use (although that has definitely changed, lol), but the topics. You’ll see that the first thing in this is a story in which there is humour, love and fantasy, the latest one is death. This piece isn’t the latest story I have written, it’s one I wrote at the beginning of the year for Gracie’s writing competition, but the most recent stories I haven’t posted and would like to post separately. I think that this really shows what the effect if something like your mental health can have on you, the amount it kills you inside of your brain. I think it takes away a lot of the happiness and innocence you have. 

Another interesting thing about this going back of the stories thing, is the times in which things changed. In year six my story was about a guy who ventured into a forest, in year seven, me talking to Death, last year, year seven, a dancer who dies (described in graphic detail), and this year, someone who dies. I know from working with my counsellor, when the sort of depressive slump really hit, sort of from year six, year seven, but I do think that it was always there, I do remember these feelings from the age of about seven. But just not as bad. But I do think that this is a really interesting thing to notice. 

Before we begin I would like to place a trigger warning on the last two stories. The third story here describes a very gruesome death in graphic detail and the last is about a suicide. I know that these topics are often triggering and would not like to hurt anyone or cause anyone to hurt themselves. Do as you need to protect yourself. Thank you.

Now into the actual post. I’m not going to put the full stories on here, just snippets and I’ll link to the full things after the snippets for you to read and (possibly) cringe over!

Number 1! This was from 2015, when I was year 6 or about 11?

Whitney and Mr Kendell along with Ebony the greyhound trudged slowly towards a large expanse of trees all covered in a thick blanket of cold, wet snow.  Ebony suddenly stopped, pricked her ears and parked twice, “What is it girl?” Whitney asked. Ebony shot off like a black bullet whizzing through the air and came to an abrupt halt about ten metres from the edge of the forest.  Whitney and Mr Kendell ran after her, they were not as fast as the greyhound but they soon caught up to her. Now they could see what Ebony had been barking at, it was a herd of large multi-coloured centaurs. The leader of the herd a beautiful golden centaur trotted towards the group

And here’s the link! https://docs.google.com/document/d/12OnSA32fWjHqFo-QW7slZKx3TdIjdXgnk-pucohwxwI/edit

Number 2! This from year 7, 2016, when I was homeschooled, about 12? 

I rolled my eyes and walked off. Idiot. What did I need with a bracelet and an eraser? I mean, we were in 2016 now. Those things were popular in 2015, in, like, August! It wasn’t even a nice one, it was pink, who wanted to carry around a pink eraser. I know I’m a girl (or at least I hope I am!) but that didn’t mean he could give me a pink thing. Stereotypical! I’d have preferred it black.

In this one, please note the ‘I know I’m a girl (or at least I hope I am!). Fun thing. And the link to the full thing: https://docs.google.com/document/d/17ieLqUkBOiT-gh33b4LSi62quisyLqnVaa8k-YvDiWg/edit

The story from 2017, last year! This is number 3.

The music hit our cue. The ushers pushed us on stage. We danced. We danced like no one was watching. Like it was just us. Like we were in front of the Queen. Like the world was watching. We danced as only our dreams had shown us. Because that was what we were doing. We were creating reality from dreams. Beautiful reality, from beautiful dreams.

This needs a trigger warning, so TRIGGER WARNING. GRUESOME DETAILS. Here’s the full story: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1dA_YQjZ6L5eG6vjOyhgSeywa71z87Yi3xlDb64XWeQs/edit

And the last story I have, from this year. This is number 4!

My views…my views of where I was now? Really, I realised, really, I wasn’t there, wasn’t talking to her, sitting by the lake. Not really. That was all in my head. But I didn’t know where I really was. Where my correct body was. On a bridge overlooking a lake, maybe, surrounded by trees in gorgeous autumnal colours. A little house on the side of the hill. Nestled into the crook of a clearing. Maybe. Where did these thoughts come from? Where was I really? Look, the chance of being there was slim. Almost non-existent. But maybe, who knows, I was really there. In the clearing by myself. Maybe that would change me. Help me to get better. To fix the shatterings in my head. But only if I was really there. Which I wasn’t. Because I didn’t know where I was. Because life was so horrible that there was nowhere for me to be, to really and truly be. But that was what life had always been. Well, all I’d ever known. A life of fostering, of new places, of running away, of ‘constructive criticism’. Life had always been full of the things I’d hated. So why would this other new place make any difference? It wouldn’t. So why would I bother? I wouldn’t. It made no sense.

And the full story is here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1kjnDYWqeIsmbVxMF87HQUnlVQOlO8kfZdo9bT061CFE/edit

So that is the end of this post! I think it was a lot of fun, but also slightly scary and sad! 

see you in the next post!

luka xo