First times

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i thought i was so in love with you back then

I thought the way your blue eyes glistened

under the orange summer haze

was the most incredible thing I’d ever seen

the soft cleft on your lip

and the half smile you had stitched onto your face

made my stomach flutter

Here’s to first clumsy kisses

rolling around hidden in tall grass

evening gloom

sun kissing our hands

intertwined

oh i miss those simpler days, those first-time loves

those first-time i-want-yous

first time i think i want you in adult way

those first times i felt

kissing you turns me to fire

and i think my body wants to feel your hands

oh i miss those soft summers

first-time drinking summers

first-time legal summers

first-time secret love summers

man, i thought i was so in love with you

and I was.

I was in love with the way you treated me

for the first-time

like a woman

Farewell, Grandad.

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I never got to meet you 

But I love you like I love my father, and like my mother loves you.

She’s kinda broken, though still fierce.

Kinda messed up and kinda figuring her life out still; even though she’s already past 40.

I guess we never really stop doing that, cause life changes all the time and you’ve got to keep adapting, keep forwards. 

Her heart breaks which makes mine break even more.

So I’m hurting doubly for her.

I’m hurting too cause you were always far away, but the stories made me feel like I knew your love, always.

I got to know and love granny and I know that you were probably like her.

So I hurt again for her too. 

Losing you is like losing her all over again, and it’s hard to think that loss is inevitable in life. 

You were the last granddaddy standing. 

I hope your spirit keeps me moving for the rest of my life.

Thank you for giving me my mother.  

When they leave

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When they leave you, don’t keep fragments of them in your purse.

Take out the old train tickets from journeys to see each other,

and take out the old receipts from your round of drinks together in dark little pubs.

Don’t let their forgotten jacket linger in your wardrobe,

and don’t let the old pair of trainers they left on your shoe rack catch dust.

Don’t you dare wear their stray t-shirts at night, convincing yourself its just for a moment — to reminisce.

Don’t hold on to the memory of their kisses, or the tender way they spoke your name like butterflies.

Let your heart only sometimes ache with the bittersweet pang of the end.

Know that you’re better for it,

happier for it,

wiser for it,

and anchored to nothing else but your own self and your own freedom.

They don’t know

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I hate them,
I hate them because I lose who I am when I’m around them
I forget the person I fought hard to become and embrace
I forget my strength, I forget my voice, I forget the power of my wisdom and the rationality of my mind
I am small and powerless, a victim of nonchalance and subconscious belittling
A product of self-motivated educational brilliance, and nothing else
They don’t know that I was exceptional, because I was never free enough to be anything less
They don’t know that I stopped striving for perfection because it filled my body with dread. It ruined me
And it still ruins me, and I’m lost and hurting and hungry for some release, hungry for danger and power and control because I’m dying to be someone else
I die to be someone else whenever they’re close, as though their auras were made of my own personalised happiness repellant
And they kill me with the kind of affection that my heart can’t understand
They kill me because I’m too different and sometimes too alone because of it
They kill me because just BEING aches with them, it hurts,
the feeling of being alien hurts
every time I leave im mad and sad and bitter and the tiniest bit more broken than the last time
Every time I leave I know I’ll need days to recover
I know I’ll need nights of toxicity
Loving, toxicity,
To filter the madness, soften the anger, lessen the hurt,
turn my blood back to red ink
Instead of salt water tears

warm. ready, loving. waiting.

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I’d not heard your voice in a while

a few days maybe

I’m not too sure maybe

But i remember when i called you last;

I masked the tears on my face by strengthening my cracking voice.

You were so far away, and i needed you

i needed the scent of your skin, the warmth of your hands,

I needed the sound of your voice, the security of your arms

because i was scared

and it was one of those days where the pessimism cut me so deep nothing could yank me out. nothing but your smile and your hair in my hands as i held on to you tight

I was scared. that my heart was breaking again, breaking prematurely, in preparation for worst case scenarios spinning out of control in my mind

so I called you that night. I called you.

I heard you,

i heard you like i hear you now.

warm. ready, loving. waiting.

I Wish

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I wish I was a romantic

I wish that I could soak up the blind hope

that shines in your eyes when you look at me.

As though simple was as simple says

and real life didn’t mean that we could have to face a lot of fucked up challenges.

I wish that my heart wasn’t built on tough and bitter

That my eyes hadn’t become desensitized to lies and shitty attempts at love

That I grew up knowing what real love was and wasn’t scarred and damn near terrified to try it.

I make it harder than it probably should be

Because hard is the only way it makes sense to me

I am shaken by the ease of us

like the backwards person that I am.

But I do wish,

I sometimes wish, that I could sit here,

in front of you for a moment,

and pretend that we could get through it all,

easy.

STUDENT LOVE: I WILL CLEAN UP YOUR VOMIT WHEN YOU NEED ME <3

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Finding a place to live when you’re in first year can be a prospect very daunting or very exciting. In most cases, the people that you meet and grow to love within the first few weeks of term become the people you begin discussing moving in with – and just like that, by Christmas, you know that you’ll have a roof over your head for the next year.

Luckily, this is how it was for me. And till this very day I do not regret my choice of companionship. But unfortunately, life has a wonderful way of ruining expectations. I know too many people who now despise the people they chose to live with. I’m sorry if you’re one of those people who have had massive fallings out with friends because of living situations. We weren’t all made to live together.

I am not one of those people. I recently had a house night out, and realised that the girls I chose to live with have actually become some of my best friends at university. They’re girls that I don’t fight with – that living with is the easiest thing in the world. That 4 months in, am still asking and being asked how my day was. We still banter for hours sitting on the stairs. We still and have a plethora of house private jokes.

I’m so damn lucky, I realised. That I’m living with immature yet responsible teenagers. We eat each other’s food and we complain about mess, but most importantly: we get along. We accept each other for the way we are. Accept that we aren’t always going to have the bins out on time and that someone will be harbouring all the cups in their room at least once a week. That’s how it should be. That’s what living with the people you love is. They support me when I need it. I hold up Meg’s hair when she’s puking after one too many Sambucas. She wipes my tears when I’m an emotional mess. Liz lovingly reprimands us all into doing the right thing. Amy laughs at us all and claims we’re a tragic bunch. We come to the consensus that we need to behave ourselves. Little by little, we’re getting there. This is what university is. Growing together.

I’m really starting to come to the realisation that every amazing thing I ever dreamed about the university experience is happening for me. I’m so grateful.

I only wish this was the case for every student out there. Sometimes it happens, sometimes not so much. But nevertheless, we do meet people who impact our lives in ways we would have never thought possible.

Prospective students, join us.