The News 

At the moment, I spend most of my day reading the news on my computer screen as I sit at my desk. The news just makes me so angry! The world is full of idiotic showman who can’t quite grasp the bigger picture. For example, legendary club ‘Fabric’ has closed as the result of two drug related deaths. Many have voiced their outrage on the closure, stating “So 150,000 voices can’t even be heard. We had no chance.” And “Fabric closing is a real blow for the youth of London. An institution.” Now I’m all for expression and culture and such, but I wish people would look at the bigger picture. Club culture, a lot of the time, is linked with drug culture and maybe, instead of protesting about the closure of a club and signing petitions, you can start a cause to help separated club and drug culture by avocating safe ways to enjoy the clubbing scene.
This was more of a rant for me to get it off my chest, as I normally dislike posts like this.

The Prophets

Every year they gather to the place that they met. One, two, three, four, five, six and seven. It was their mecca; where it all started. It was silent in the car as they drove down the highway. Piled into the seven-seat car, each were in their own ritual that steadied the nerves. Luke, sat in the drivers seat, used the focus of the road to stay concentrated and calm; Lizzie sat next to him stared out of the open window, hand waving with the current of the wind. Sat behind her was Sarah, curled into a little ball, head resting against the window as she slept. Sara, behind Luke, read her worn copy of Nietzsche, recently read pages littered her naked feet.In the middle of the Sarah/Sara sandwich was Nikolai, already having had a few drinks, spoke to himself in a voice no one could hear. In the back seats sat Sydney and Clinton, each listening to their own music, the only sound in the car was Sydney’s soft singing…


Eye Contact

There seems to be this strange phenomenon called Eye Contact. Two people can make eye contact and then be on their way, a small smile here, a fleeting glance there, but then there is the magnetic draw where minute eye contact is continued over a short period of time. I was queuing for the bus home when I happen to make eye contact with a guy further up the line who had turned around for some unknown reason. It was forgotten instantaneously. I made my way to the back to the bus, sat down facing the opposite direction and once again, made eye contact with the same guy. Strangely, eye contact can turn into something else; constant staring or the desperate attempt to not stare. There was no attraction on my part but why is it that I find myself trying so hard not to stare at a person who I had made the slightest eye contact with?



I’ve never experienced heartbreak…well not in the conventional way. I have had my heart broken but it wasn’t done by one person, it was done by many, all at once. They didn’t trust me; I had become unapproachable, insensitive; I became the bad guy.
That is what broke my heart. But, as always, time heals all wounds and my heart was stitched back together with a thick black thread.
Once in a while, the stitching will rip apart, barely holding me together and the hurt, regret and pain come rushing back and I can do nothing but hope that I can keep it together. I can admit, the relationship wasn’t perfect but not once did they realise that I had been hung, drawn and quartered and will forever live with that reminder.

Friday night

This friday night; most students go out, drinking, dancing, having adventures. What did I do? I stayed in my room, with my bottle of 7/11 wine and I watched Gone Girl. Its not the first time I have watched Gone Girl, so that isn’t the main point of the story. The main point of the story, is that what I was watching Gone Girl…I did this to my face.


IMG_2492 IMG_2476



5 weeks

1 day

1 hour

56 minutes

20 seconds…19 seconds…18 seconds until I graduate College.

Stomach twists, mind runs and races and rushes about. Eyes wide open, panic sets in, heart beat faster.

I’m not ready to leave it all behind. Going on to a new chapter, but leaving the biggest chapter of my life so far; the page is heavy and a struggle to turn over. Will I ever be ready? Probably not but I will be strong enough to make it happen.


“Don’t be scared of the monsters, just look for them. To your left, to your right, under your bed, behind your dresser, even in your closet but never look up, she hates being seen.”

Spring Break

Today is the last day of my first spring break trip…my senior year. Floridian sun beating down on the right side of my now red face, frozen margarita daiquiri sat next to my laptop and I’m killing time before we have to head back to the airport. It’s snowing back in New York. I never want to leave. Feeling so melancholy because Orlando is a home away from home away from home. Counting as my fourth trip here (I thought it was the fifth) I have many memories and feelings about this place; coming here with a good friend has only added to the experience.


Monday night rebirth.

People can change you; it can be for the best, or the worst. They can tear you apart, turning you inside out until you don’t know what is up or down. Strange stomach tingles causing fleeting fears, reaching out to grab hold of the person you once were. No matter how high you jump or how deep you dig, you can never get them back. Their shadow no longer plays dot to dot with your own body. Misshapen outlines and bumpy pillows bend you out of shape; its uncomfortable. Smooth out the lines and fill up that cup that you though was half empty because it is easier to re-build yourself than to continuously tear yourself down to what you used to be. Bear no malice to the people; take a sip from the pool of life and grow.

In class writing…

So, I’m suppose to be writing about what is going on in my mind, but there is just too much to form coherently enough to be put onto paper. No one exactly wants to hear my problems or issues, mind you, a few of them are a little too personal to be aired in public. Well, more than a few, more like a third. No, wait, probably a half. That’s a lie, all of them. All of my problems are too personal to be put on paper let alone read out loud in class. So, in conclusion, this piece of writing was a waste of my time.