Welcome Home Persephone (AKA as the one in which Emily continues to be a romantic nerd)

Standard

So, I think I’ve fallen in love with the Spring. It goes like this;

as the almost golden sun drips through the blossom trees, or drenches the sky and the fields in haze, I am lost in a place that my brain cannot perceive as real. Because to grow up, I had to teach myself that reality is never as bright as the world in my head. So, of course, I must be dreaming when I’m sat gazing out the window at the stretches of luminous fields that curve up to make hills that were obviously painted as concept art for the Shire. And so, because its a dream I don’t mind smiling like a huge dork, and singing out of key for everyone in the street to hear.

And even when it rains and the skies turn an overbearing grey, I don’t despair any more, because I know that it isn’t going to drain away my energy like vampiric January. There’s a warm hand on my back, reminding me this isn’t all there’s going to be, pushing me forward. So although I may not smile, I don’t bury my hope in a chest at the bottom of the sea. Just maybe under my bed.

So I’ll wear my prettiest dress, uncaring if I freeze to death.

And I’m praying that if I keep pretending it’s warmer than it is, the spring will always stay here, by my side. Which makes me realise that I don’t know what I’m going to do when the autumn strolls in and gives my joy a sleeping pill. I push the thought to the back of my mind, pull out my sunglasses from the obscure hole they were hiding in.

That’s the sum and total of it. Me and Demeter should start a support group. Imagine the t-shirts.

Thanks for taking the time to read my rambling thoughts. It’s all a bit like unravelled, tangled up wool at the moment, I’m just trying to tug on the right thread. Give me time, I’ll get it.

See you soon,

Emily

xxx

Aimless (AKA as the one in which Past Emily must be relied upon for content)

Standard

If this blog post feels a little aimless, then I suppose I have done my job – provided of course that my job is to accurately convey my emotions into a word-like structure.

It’s a weird time at the moment. I can’t put my finger on why, or whether it’s just me, but there is certainly something happening that I can’t quite put my finger on. I’m wading through exhaustion fuelled nonchalance, and I want to do is sleep and write poetry. (And yes, that probably is the most pretentious sentence I have ever conceived). I think it’s mostly due to my brain’s attempt to deal with the rising temperatures in the metaphorical cooking pot I’m boiling in. So to save you all from the weirdness, and mostly indecipherable train wreck that is my thought processes at the moment I thought I would share the first part of a story I’m writing. I wrote most of this in bunk-bed in a youth hostel pretending to be a hotel down in London. I hope you enjoy!


So I’m stood, gazing out the window in the student-film lighting, trying to estimate the social standing of each area of London from the aesthetic of it’s tube station.

Here are grim-faced, straight-laced, fine suited and booted folks. “We’re in a posh bit here”, I  think to myself with a smile I hope is wry.

Dirty wood and bare concrete, out-dated 80s decor. “Oh, a bit of a rougher patch here”

And I live for a moment in the buzz of my own insight, as for a passing minute I can pretend that I have knowledge of this strange world I have never been able to fully comprehend.

The underground is a strange place, you see it so often on TV and in films and god-knows where else that, even if you’ve never actually been on it, late at night when there’s only a handful of people in that warm yellow glow it’s like you’ve been there many times before. My headphones jammed in my ears, gentle music playing, and as my bones begin to warm for the first time in 5 hours, all I want to do is sleep. Only the over-hanging fear of missing my stop keeps me awake, so I sit, enjoying existing in this mellow setting for a brief juncture in my day.

When I step out into the street it is raining. It’s been raining all day, but I am still for some reason surprised. I pull my beanie hat further down over my ears, and wrap my arms around myself in an attempt to hold onto my rapidly depleting warmth. The sun has just set, and it brings a whole different tone to the chill that’s now starting to set back under my skin. All I can think about is having a hot shower, but tonight there is other business to attend to.


Thank you for reading! I hope to resume usual blogging style soon, but I’m in London again next week so I’m not making any promises I’m afraid.

See you soon!

Emily

xxx