So this happened over the weekend and you know, thank you. The fact that so many of you listen to what I have to say and laugh at my silly, self deprecating posts and read the things I write means way more than it maybe should but whatever, I care about what people on the internet think, I care what you think of me and this is really nice.

As a proper thank you I am in the process of bullying my sister (and possibly the girlfriend) into helping me make a few chapbooks so I can do a little giveaway thing.

You’re all super cool.

I can vanish. I can close my eyes and I can’t see you, you can’t see me. I can close my throat and put everything I’d say somewhere else and you can’t stop me, you can’t see me. I can watch the world end and I can fire it up again, I can be the girl with the power of God on her eyelids, I can shut you out, I can stop this. I should.

You shouldn’t talk about love. There’s no need to tell the world how it feels and what it means and why it matters. How old it is, how long it’s festered inside of you and how it hurts and why you’ve wanted it so badly and what that’s like - getting a thing you’ve always wanted, how it matches up. I shouldn’t listen to a word you say, I shouldn’t watch your face as you say it, I shouldn’t let you stay.

We’ll start with the house, which was large. Three staircases deep and so long all of us who worked there had ox strong legs and I had strong arms too, I could walk on my hands and sometimes, when no one was around, I would, I’d tickle the carpet with my fingers because it felt like we were in the belly of a whale and I wondered if he’d sneeze us out.

So the house was big and it was old and it was dry like old things are, like a leaf that’s kept together by the bones and has to be handled carefully because it’s so old, so old and dry and precious. We spent more of the day tending to the house than the people, who were only pieces of proud, high furniture, with ancestral rights to a place there. In need of constant reassurance that the house belonged to them when the truth was the opposite.

I lived in the belly of the whale for eight years, longer than Jonah and Gepetto and I liked it, for the most part. I liked the entrance hall in the mornings, when the light filled it like water fills a pot. I liked the routine, I liked having a job I could learn like lines, learn by heart. I liked the kitchens, I liked the drama, I liked a large group of people trapped in one huge house and acting out their lives like the house was a stage, like the world was listening, like their lives were a story to tell and to scream and to sing. I felt safe there - there were two worlds and the world of the house, it was just as real and exciting but it was safer than the other world, which couldn’t get in, couldn’t get at us. I stayed there as long as I could, I was sad to leave, but I never had love there. It was all arms and no heart; being handled but not held. Love came after the house.

Erdem Moralioğlu Leticia embroidered organza overlay dress

I fell down in Brick Lane the other week, not fell over fell down like just fell on the floor for no reason, went down like a sack of potatoes and then when I was on the ground there were people everywhere and looking so I tried to laugh it off and I was like, “Hahahaha what a loser I am how silly I’m on the floor hahahaha” and my girlfriend was like, “Oh my god are you okay?” and I was bleeding and the laughter fooled no one.

Which is a really similar story to the time I fell down the gap between the train and the platform only that was worse because I didn’t, “mind the gap” but at least I fractured my leg that time, which lends a real gravitas to the whole story.

One time I was wearing this fairly short, tight dress and I was on the tube and my tights were too big and they were falling down, like they’d gone past my crotch, but the dress I had on was too tight to do a little, surreptitious hitch up underneath and I was walking through the tube station and it was dire straits because the place was full of people, but the tights were almost at my knees and I was practically waddling so I dumped my bag and pulled my skirt up and yanked up my tights as quickly as I could right then and there and this group of policemen were watching and they laughed.

No Mum, tidying my room will not make me feel better about not getting that job, sitting on the sofa under my duvet watching Mulan and eating coco pops will.

I’m twenty three.

Message received while lying on the sofa, wearing jeggings and a sweatshirt that predominantly features a velociraptor and crying over the record breakingly large spot that has made my left cheek it’s home.

Whatever, we are occasionally all of those things so sure, keep your eyes peeled.

So the other day I had this interview and we were chatting quite casually, talking about school and university and how much I liked history and reading etc etc and the interview guy asked me if I watched Game of Thrones and I was like yeah I suppose I watch Game of Thrones every now and then casually you know and then he said, “Did you see the lastest episode?” and I was like, “OH MY GOD YES WASN’T THE BEAR PIT SCENE WITH BRIENNE AND JAIME AMAZING I’M SO GLAD HE CAME BACK FOR HER THEY ARE BEAUTIFUL.” And he said, “…I haven’t seen it yet.”

So I don’t think I’ve got the job.

My Game of Thrones watching experience is mostly just me whimpering and holding out my arms towards the tv whenever Jaime and or Brienne are onscreen.

Sick of sitting in an office and calmly explaining why it’s not okay to call Kim Kardashian a disgusting fat whale.

Tumblr totally spoiled the elementary finale for me and UGH if there was ever a plot twist not to spoil and now I’m trying to watch it on the train but I don’t have a good enough signal and basically I have a lot of Irene Adler thoughts that I’m going to share with you as soon as I’ve watched the whole thing be excited.

P.s I know we’re all sad that season one of elementary is over but Luther well be back soon and then we can all bask in another really well done loose Sherlock Holmes adaptation yeah.