Friday, 15 January 2016


So I've thought quite hard about it, and I've decided there is only one way to not let life eat you up with sorrow. Grief when death slips itself quietly underneath the door, the unspoken mourning when you realise you are never going to be this same person in this same place in your life ever again, when your fragile glass house of comfort and safety crumbles in an instant, like it was only built of sugar all along. The only way I can deal with this furious entropy speeding toward me, is to really notice when I am light, when I am happy, to sing as loudly as I can to the music, to smile as I kiss him, and to notice and be glad for these moments when I really do have it all. And then maybe, when sorrow comes and wraps it's long fingernails around me, perhaps there will be no life left in me for it to squeeze out - for I had soaked it all up, let it evaporate into the past as it should, nothing to yearn for, nothing left to be tainted, nothing that grief can take from me, nothing it can leave within me.

Sunday, 10 January 2016


I have these dreams of a nomad life, on a blowing road. Just me, my feet and some rusty trailer van. Cold nights adjourned with blankets, the chill of loneliness offset only by the warmth of solitude... Oh how these visions bloom inside my head, every time I let my racing mind pause for breath, a spring flower thought blooming out of the mundane frost. I can hear the music, I don't know where it's playing from, some soundtrack to it all - I invite the musicians into my home on wheels, I don't know their names or their stories. And yet they play them for me as though we are long lost friends, bonding over some camp fire, exchanging memories like currency. My cat travels with me, of course - a furry friend to curl up with, another soul to study, a release for my maternal instincts that will go undoubtedly buried.

I pause, and mourn quietly for the loss of the life I grew up supposed to have. My grandmother's hands in soapy water, her voice narrating a husband with hands to wash me, whilst my mind is drifting off into a barn alight with feet, somewhere. I know how to be still, but only when everything around me is in chaos. I know how to move with the wind, let my feet bleed raw, leave the pavement beneath me wanting more... but only when everything around me is stagnating. I do not feel up, nor down, not here, nor there. I remind myself that this - this is the beauty of being. The song changes, and now I am a ballet dancer with all the softness of rain - no, the reflections of rain on a car dashboard, I wouldn't exist without the streetlight... I am unwashed droplets on the windscreen, I look like a thousand stars when another car comes over the horizon. I am nothing without this music, this poetry, this world which taught me how to feel.

I turn onto my back and cover myself in the blankets, each which held lover after lover. Each who held me, broke me, soothed me, healed me, taught me how to heal myself. Taught me how to comfort myself, like a panicked child - to forgive myself, I murmur softly "I know why you thought those terrible things, I understand, I forgive you, I love you, I love you." I exhale my old hopes and dreams, a husband, a home - they had built up like a thick tar in my lungs, slowly choking me and forcing me to learn how to breathe in a different way. I inhale my freedom. I question my sanity. I laugh, because that is all you can do. I smile to myself, because I know so little about who I am - the only thing I know for sure, is that I Am A Traveller.

I Am A Traveller.
I travel at lightning speed through the galaxy, I travel year upon year around the sun.
I travel through the moments of my life, experiencing each day as though it had already been written - as though some omnipotent being has given me one last chance to live it all again - I hold each moment to my chest and let my heart fill with a buttery mixture of sweet joy and sweeter grief, and I cast it aside with the most gentle, soft ruthlessness I can muster as I travel to the next now, and the next, and the next...
I am a traveller. As I lie in my trailer on the side of the road, wrapped in the blankets of my past, all those people I never really knew, and I let them keep me warm. I'm on some hillside, some unknown place again in my mind. But all is home to a traveller. And I am a traveller.

As the song tails off into silence, I lay fixed in my solid bed, in my solid home on solid ground, wheel-less and stationary. I have lived here for nearly two years, and every day I have travelled. To memories I will never experience, to dreams that will never come to be, and yet exist just as beautifully as real life, if only I always allow myself to travel to them. I cannot bring myself to close that door of my soul, it is the only door I have ever known, one I built somewhere deep within myself. I feel it is a part of myself that cannot be given, or sold, or shown.

It seems there is so much talk of letting other people into ourselves, but never is it mentioned of how to let ourselves out.

Monday, 21 December 2015

Out of the Blue

Once, all within a second
I was hit with a flash of blue
Came the thud, the crack, the brace
I awaited my unity with cold metal
Just carbon spilling into carbon
Like long lost friends
Instead, the shattering glass
it rained over me like stars
I had never felt so soft
I felt the weight of the temporary bury itself in my side
The music had gone

I opened my eyes to all colours of life, mine to keep,
if only for a little while more.

And I decided,
a little while is enough.

Saturday, 12 December 2015

Grey Days

I walk through pockets of emptiness,
Open fields of yellow grass, trampled
I am half asleep, half awake on some bluelit morning
I didn't know nothing could weigh so much
My shoulders ache
The days are just spaces to be filled
Eyes shut, eyes up
Time passes like time does, and I feel nothing
Music just sounds like notes and chords, a little tune
I feel nothing
My cog-like hands turn the wheel, I steer my life without thought
who knew existing could come so naturally
My mind is greater than my thoughts that fill it
I think about the implications of this as I drive
Pull up my car on some ordinary road
Take off my shoes, sleepwalker,
Life stalker
I walk in all directions
Trying to find a way out of my head

Thursday, 26 November 2015

Stem Cell

Age 23 I let myself feel true happiness
at 24 I could summon it in an instant
Age 25 I let myself feel true pain
at 26 I hope to be able to withstand it

Monday, 2 November 2015

Two Roads

She felt the road turning beneath her. It had been uneasy inside her for years, and finally she was at the split - eyes ahead, two feet on the ground. Two possible lives, hazy in the distance. She could either grip someone else hard for the rest of her days, someone who liked having her imprints embedded in their skin; or she could just let it all go. Some of the road alone, a few miles with him, a mile with someone else, maybe. Him and someone else.
I stood for a moment, quietly mourning the loss of one life.
And I let my fingers loosen.

Sunday, 1 November 2015

Love: Redefined

Lately, I've been thinking about LOVE. Kind of.

To speak more broadly, I've been thinking about not being in love, about mistaking attachment for love, about validation through love, pretty much every scenario that avoids actually loving someone for the person that they ARE, and rather 'loving' them for what they can bring to you.

Why is this, Rosie? I hear your mind mumble. Thanks for asking. Well.

When it comes to life, I am running the show. You want to see someone with stars for eyes, and feet that can walk on air when I hit those highs? Come right over. Business? Sure - but I know the important difference between true success and society's definition. Technically I have both, though the latter is worthless. Amazing friends and people? They stream in and out of my days beautifully. My friends are like a fresh packet of rainbow crayons in my childlike palms - a beautiful balance of all the colour. Some are batshit crazy, some are unmovable in their logic, some are middle aged mothers and fathers who have lived the norm, some are ageing, smiling hippies who tell me stories of Red Indians in Vegas. Some take drugs to explore their fascination with their minds, some do not. Some bring out my inner dance queen, some I can sit and cry with, be heavy with.  Some work in my local McDonalds drive thru, some own mansions in London. But they are all good people, and I like to collect good people with their good intentions like a Goodness Connoisseur. There are no expectations, I don't require their "Happy Birthday"s or text replies or company... they just need to be out there. And, if they grow and change - then I want to know about it, so the Good people can teach me, and I can learn.

But, love. Fuck.

I'm gonna thank Society for this mess, this tornado. I, like most others, raised in a society which breeds low self esteem, low self worth and a presumed shared "goal" for our lives: Marriage, kids, mortgage. Nothing wrong in wanting those three things, but man oh man that combination has created chaos for me...

Between the ages of birth-23, I believed people would only love you if you were worth something. Any man could and would have sex with you, but falling in love with you would prove your worth. I looked for validation in many ways, never questioning why I needed it in the first place, why I thought I didn't have it in the first place. I looked for security in my anxious future, because that was the Ultimate Validation. I was never falling in LOVE with any of these men - I was attaching to their company, their validation of me, my false projections of who they could be, what we could be. I was looking for happiness in the future - when I held the Three Cards of Fulfilment. *vomit*

So, what changed?

Ironically, I fell in love. Actual love. It was totally unrequited, and that was okay. In fact, this was just wonderful. Because I learned that I didn't need to own this person romantically to enjoy their benefits. And I don't mean sexually, I mean mentally - he had a mind that was unfathomably deep, wild and free spirited. I would describe it as all the colours you could ever be mesmerized by, all concentrated in one place, in one body. Needless to say, I was totally and utterly captivated. I could have listened to him talk all day and all night. I just wanted to sit and listen to him. Dip my fingers in his soul and paint with all his colours. I learned, through falling in love with someone's soul, and being denied attachment, that this love was far more pure than everything else I had mistaken for love previously.

It was at this point that I began taking an interest in the world that lay at my feet, when I began to take pride in myself, my hobbies, I grew my own validation. I planted seeds of self worth through reading, learning, kindness and fleeting joy, and I lay back in pure wonder and ecstasy as I watched it grow. I became confident. I started writing, and I didn't share it - I didn't need the validation anymore.

However, the heart and the mind are separated by veins, bones and a whole lotta blood. And sometimes, even though you know this new mindset is "you" and who you are growing into, old habits die hard, man!

I've tripped up a little, I've attached to people with the hope they might inoculate me against this difficult tug of war within myself. I've attached to people to quieten this old ache inside of me, which emits a low, desperate hum of insecurity. That hum is getting ever quieter, and right now I'm in a wonderful state of transition (are we ever not?) in the process of truly becoming myself - fully self-validated, fully confident, fully whole.

Security is not something that can ever be promised.
People are never finished beings, they are like rivers. Do we look at rivers and proclaim "Hey! You're flowing wrong! What the hell!?" Nature grows how it grows. So do we.
People don't owe you ANYTHING. Even if they've promised it to you. You're naive if you expect them to keep it. And that's quite okay, too. You can be naive.
If you become aware of why you "love" (or attach) and why you "need" - you can understand and grow.

Growing is a process. First, learn. Then, understand. Once you understand, you can practice. Practice enough, you will believe. Then finally - you become. Just call me Yoda.

And so, I am so beautifully alive on this bright autumnal morning. I am listening to brass bands play my favourite musical scores. My cat is curled up by my feet as I lay down these thoughts, and I am peaceful, I am happy. I know I will be sad again, but for now, this happiness is mine to enjoy. I am in love with life - all the light and all the dark that comes with it. I just want to sit and listen to it, all day and all night.
I just want to dip my fingers into it, and paint with all its colours.