It should have been quiet in the house. Yet the noise of the big city beyond still slipped in. I heard the sounds of a party in the distance, thought of all the people out there having fun, making memories, maybe falling in love, or perhaps they’re too intoxicated to notice. And in that moment I felt terribly lonely. It’s you and me London, just you and me.
I walk over to my wardrobe, & I flick through it until I find the thing I’m looking for. A top. Velvet, soft to the touch. I pull it on with my favourite jeans as if I’ve got somewhere to go. As if I’m someone to be; surveying the endless night ahead & ready to grasp its exhilaration with both hands.
The girl in the mirror reminds me of wednesday. I look similar to how I did when I sang for the people at the concert, but right now that feels like an eternity ago. I look at all the parts of me that I hate for no reason, but for once I don’t feel that tingle of misery in the end of my nose; for once I feel empty, charged with nothing.
Sitting down at my dressing table, I fish about for my makeup bag. I honestly have no idea what I’m doing but my hands seem to have a mind of their own. The brush darts towards colours of the palette that I never touch; deep, warm, ashy browns, & other dark, burnt shades. Almost like the subdued, barely-glowing embers at the edge of a log fire. I blend and tinker until the colours mingle like the foggy thoughts in my head. It looks gentle. I’m not sure how but it actually looks ok, that’s a first.
I step away and glance at the person I see in front of me. Her expression is unreadable, she’d slay at poker. I think of the boy who walked me to the bus stop this morning, & how much I hated myself for chatting about random stuff that he probably didn’t care to hear. I’m sorry, I’m better at talking to adults than people my own age. Put me in a room with adults I’ve only just been introduced to and the best of me flourishes. I love how it feels to talk in a way that only seems to come out in those situations, its actually strangely liberating. There are only a few people my age who manage to bring that side out of me, their friendship matters more to me than I can say & more than I’d ever let them know.
My mind drifts to the other people I know. People who I haven’t seen in a while, who live in another part of the country. It feels weird knowing that other’s lives continue all the time around you, that you’re just a tiny fragment in the chaos that is the world. I’ve changed so much since I last saw them, I wish they knew the current me, the one that is proud to be herself, has the confidence to challenge people’s expectations of her & love the world & people around her like it’s the only thing she can do.
I feel lost. Sometimes it feels like there’s so much I wish I could do, so many imagined life lines, that lie irresistibly out of reach. I used to wish for a so called “bit of fairy dust” to bring a new chapter into my life, now I realise that in many ways, you make your own luck.
So as I sit here writing this, that longing-dreamer part of me conjures up all of the incredible possibilities, they hang delicately in the air like the pouches of candy floss that are tied to the dainty stall on Brighton Pier, swaying gently in the sea breeze. I know now that life is too short to turn down any chances, as small as they may seem, maybe this time I’ll be brave enough to make the most of them.