Trapped

Do you ever feel trapped?

Trapped in your own skin?

Longing for a place far away from within.

You can’t stand the thought of being inside, inside yourself there is nowhere to hide.

You look in the mirror or the screen on your phone
and the stranger staring back wears a face that is your own.

You try to switch off, block out the noise,
seek out some comfort, some patience, some poise.

But you can’t shake the feeling, you’re climbing the walls,
whilst something outside of you beckons and calls.

So I imagine what it’s like to tear the flesh from my bones…
To rise out of this hell hole as it shudders and groans…

Out of my head…

Out of my skin…

To crack open this body that I am trapped in.

Waiting.

I’ll sit and I’ll wait, for what? I’m unsure.

Not being present? My biggest flaw.

I’ll wait for the weekend, for the day to be done, I’ll wait for Christmas, for birthdays, for fun.

I’ll wait for the summer, then long for the spring, then do it all over, not learning a thing.

Coz anticipation is my default mode… waiting for something, something  to unfold.

I feel it inside me, it wriggles around… I’m waiting, I’m waiting for something profound.

Waiting to laugh? Waiting to cry?

Waiting to live? Waiting to die?

Constantly waiting, are you waiting too?

Because mostly I think I’m just

waiting for you.

Life: Imposter Syndrome.

Do you remember when you were in school and the six weeks holidays were like this magical time of reinvention, where you would vow to return to school looking better than ever? Every year in high school it got more and more intense, to the point that you left a girl and just a mere 6 weeks later you returned a woman… high heels, pencil skirt, highlights. I’m not talking about me obviously, I’m talking about a friend who absolutely nailed it that year. Even to this day, I can still picture her walking across the play ground, I was in awe because my reinvention had not gone to plan at all that particular year and that particular year, somehow seemed like it was the most important. I’ve always been someone who has put personal style way ahead of being pretty and this was no exception, I always had this niggling feeling (and still do) of don’t wear that, go for the pretty option but I never did/do. That summer I had spent quite a bit of time back in Manchester and seen people wearing particular things that I thought were MEGA cool. Growing up in Wales, I always thought Manchester was that fashion step ahead, so I took all my inspo from there but naturally my peers didn’t get it, because it was something different… which is why I did it I guess. That year for school, I wanted to get the shoes that everyone was wearing in Manchester and the lycra pencil skirt with splits up either side (sounds glorious doesn’t it?). I hunted high and low but the shoes I REALLY wanted were out of budget for school shoes, so I settled for a pair that were slightly similar but not quite right, this was the start of the disaster.  From this, I sought out the perfect double split pencil skirt, I later realised that the splits were way too high, when I overheard someone commenting, “Is Laura’s skirt ripped?” Of course it’s not! This is the first day of school, my image peak, would I come to school with a ripped skirt you moron? But yeah, I got it really wrong that year, the year I wanted to get it right the most and from then on, I’ve pretty much felt the same… like I’m trying to be stylish but somehow not getting it quite right!

Life: 30 things I’ve learnt in 30 years…

1. You definitely will not know what you want to do for the rest of your life at the age of 18… or even 30.
2. There is no advice you can give for heartbreak… you are grieving for a person that isn’t dead and as cliche as it is, time is the only healer.
3. Misery loves company, like seriously.
4. A good family unit will get you through your lowest times… if you are lucky enough to have them, treasure them.
5. Your sisters will become your absolute best friends.

Life: Has technology given us commitment Issues?

I used to buy fashion magazines religiously, now I can’t even remember the last time I purchased one, or even read one to be quite honest. Nowadays, everything seems to have become quicker, information is at the click of a button, you no longer have to trawl through pages of adverts to get to the article you desire, it’s there on your screen in a matter of seconds (depending on the speed of your internet). But lately I find myself dreaming of a passionate tryst with a glossy mag, flicking through the pages, breathing in that fresh page scent, sourcing the trends that are to become part of our very being over the following months (even if we despise them at first… hello statement earrings!). Yes, it’s so much easier nowadays to go online for information but I miss the romance of reading, the feeling that you can actually complete something in it’s totality, because lets face it you could never finish all the articles on the internet.