I'm Over Here

So, basically, this was a poem I wrote way back when I was a child of seven. It even won a competition.(Which didn't even end up well, but yeah). I had such potential. What happened?

No one really understands
that I am over there,
they walk right through me,
without a look, or a stare.
I am invisible,
in a different dimension.
Time goes on,
but my name's never mentioned.
I want to shout-

"Hey, look, I'm still here!"
Want someone to hear me,
and give a big cheer.
I want to give a big hug,

to the people I love,

rather than sit,

and watch from above.

Eurovision

So, basically, it is a tradition to watch Eurovision in my house. We sit down, snacks and alcohol at the ready (Although being sober whilst viewing Eurovision may not differ that much...) and settle ourselves in for the four hours worth of bad singing, bad choreography and bad costumes. But that's why we love it.

The gimmicky nature of Eurovision is something that must be cherished. I'd say, as a member of the UK, it's an accomplishment when at least we're not last.

Bonnie Tyler did us proud, and yeah, she is a total babe, but really, was it Eurovision material? For one, she's actually a decent singer, so that automatically suggests she may not be a contender for that much coveted top spot.

And I suppose, Denmark were pretty catchy. Although my personal favourite was Malta, or maybe Romania. Gay vampires do have a certain charm.

All I can say is... poor Ireland: 

Here's a quick summary of what the UK had to say on Eurovision (courtesy of tumblr).

Yeah, I do love Eurovision.

A Happy Coincidence

I've never been one to believe in fate. I'm more a fan of "the happy coincidence". Fate, to me, is something that is created by us humans. We want to believe something happens for a reason because it provides us with a sense of security. If we don't have control over what happens to us, then why should we even try? People believe if something is going to happen, it will. But I don't think that's the case.

I'm more a fan of the happy coincidence, because honestly, the possibility that it might not have happened- does that not make it even more magical? Because it was just a coincidence. Just a very, very good one.

The Sober Truth: Part 3

She'd been to the flat before. But that had been a long time ago. The walls were still the same dirty cream that she remembered, and inside, the flat smelt even more like Dettol. The furnishings remained in the same place, apart from a new lamp that stood awkwardly in the corner of the room, casting an orange glow on the people who sat slouched upon the sofa. They were all here. The gang.

How long had it been? Three years? She recalled the summer evenings they'd spent here, getting drunk and high and not caring about anything other than what was happening inside of the four walls that surrounded them. They had cocooned themselves in teenage lust and angst and self-loathing. Their nights had been fueled with secrets and sweat. They had all been so full of themselves, certain that they could take on the world. They had been young and made of idealistic fantasies. Yeah, she missed those times. Look at them now. None of them had really grown up, they had all just learnt how to pretend to be adult. Underneath they were the same lost teens. She wondered when they had stopped having fun.

Paul came from the tiny kitchen area with a glass in his hand, "Red or white, Caroline?" he asked her, gesturing to the glass. When did Paul ever have wine in the flat? Their beverages of choice used to be cider and cheap vodka. "Um, red. Please. Thanks". Paul returned to the kitchen. From the sofa, Sarah motioned for Caroline to join her, so she sat uncomfortably perched on the edge. The long-haired man at the other end of the sofa looked at her. Rob hadn't really changed. His hair a dirty blonde, his eyes a pale grey. The things they had done. Fuck. Everything had been so easy back then.

Returning with her wine, Paul sat clumsily between them. Caroline felt bad. Why had she decided to come? For old times sake? Nothing was the same now.

"So, how's Sam been?" Paul questioned, looking to Caroline. She hadn't even realised they knew about Sam. But she guessed their antics had a way of revealing themselves. "Good, yeah. Great. Thanks". Her smile didn't fool anyone. Although they chose to ignore it. Caroline turned towards Paul, "What about you? Has nobody piqued your interest?". He shook his head, his messy black hair falling over his right eye. Caroline couldn't help but see the seventeen year old she had once known stare back at her. He was still quite cute. Caroline took a sip of wine. Maybe the smell of Dettol was starting to grow on her.