On Spending All Your Time With One Person


My first glimpse of you was through a little round window. You waved, and I waved back. Until then you had been the subject of much speculation. Who was the fifth member of our first year university flat going to be? The night before you arrived I sat in what would be your room, thinking about who might occupy it. I could never have imagined you. You began as a surprise and continue to be one.

We were friends fast, and more than that faster. I wondered if I was doing the right thing, if you were the right thing. I constantly questioned and prodded you, willing you to leave, so unused to being loved. Yet you stayed. I learnt what it was to really be part of something. I got lost in being yours, so much so that I forgot to still be mine.

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Sleep Movements.



I value the things you say

when you’re half asleep the most.

The drooled, bleary eyed,

limp limbed ‘I love you’.

The sighed, croaked,

groaned, ‘come back to bed’.


When I sit up,

looking at how the world

has changed in my sleep

you curl yourself around me,

legs anchored to mine,

arm across my lap,

daring me to move.


It’s in these mornings,

that I know I’m needed

and that I need you too.

The sleepy back and forth,

the half-dreamt conversations,

the way your lips silently form my name.

February Favourites ’15


It genuinely upsets me that it’s March already. January was a hard month, but February has, thankfully, been much easier on me. Sunlight through the windows in the morning, less work, and a few brighter days have really helped me feel happier and more motivated. All I really needed was a bit of sunshine back in my life.

Having said that, February hasn’t been without its pressures. My reading week (a week off from classes in which you’re meant to catch up on work) is beginning to draw to a close. I feel quite panicked at the prospect of March. All the university work completed in February now needs to be put into practice, which is such a scary thought. Keeping myself steadily working each day has been vital to my progress. It’s the little things that have really kept me motivated, and I’m going to tell you about them!

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I stand in the courtyard of the

Italian flats, and you appear from

glass doors.


Fire is all around and

you seem to burn with it,

glasses reflecting the sparks,

the borders of you blurred

my eyes water to look at you.


The flats begin to fall inwards,

great melting structures,

too weary to go on standing

against reality


In the chaos I feel your

fingertips digging into my shoulders,

your voice urging me that I am real,

even if this world is not.


I try to make you stay,

but the fire crumbles the ground

and you disappeared with it,


Only the embers are left,

I stand at the edge of the earth and

fall awake.

Visiting the Sea.


One of the biggest advantages in moving to Brighton is the seaside. As a little girl I would visit every summer. The day would start with a unfocused meander through the busy lanes and streets, searching for ‘something different’ and finding that everything was pretty much the same as my hometown. After an unsuccessful shop, we would usually head to the beach, and that was always the best part of the day.

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On Possession.

As I’ve mentioned in a few blog posts, I’ve been trying to write more freely recently, on any topic that comes to mind. Here is a little something I wrote about my old teenage room. I hope you enjoy!

Looking through my teenage possessions used to make me feel a bit sick. Perhaps because I still was one, but desperately wanted to be older. Now it’s all just stuff I used to love, stuff that’s gathering dust. Just stuff. I find myself wishing for more and more stuff, but in 5 years time it will all just be stuff I need to throw away, so what’s the point? At least the candles burn away and the creams become layers on my skin, but what of the ornaments? The trinkets? The sentimental stuff? What about the books?

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