the fire

"Here is a pen, I say. Use them. Write me how it feels"

If your house was on fire, and you had 5 seconds to grab one item, what would it be?

I'd reach my hand under my mattress
and pull out this
my heart and fears and tears and thoughts bled onto the pages of this invaluable notebook.
The leaves of this physicalised copy of my mind provided solace when the rest of the world felt too harsh to let in.
It explores a journey, from my darkest moments to my happiest to my bravest and, as personified objects go, it perhaps knows me better than I know myself.
Tonight, I indented the final page with the lyrics of my mind and turning the cover felt like closure.
A door on the past year of my life.
And now it lies, in the safest place, close to my dreams and rest, as a reminder of survival.

Writing is such a magic form of therapy.
It makes sense of thoughts intangible to the human mind.
It reduces fears to simple letters on a page.
It offers a reminder of the days when it all felt right.
And the days when it didn't.
It offers an opportunity to reflect and hope and connect and explore.

I sometimes wonder what would happen if, in a century this pointless collection of notes was found; what would be discerned of my life? What would they think? What would have happened to me? What could it tell them about life in 2018? What would have changed?

As I turned the leaves of my crisp new book, I knew it was right. I knew this haven of safety was my closest companion.

And so, as the burning flames inhaled the bricks and mortar of my safety, I wouldn't hesitate to save this paper copy of me.

What would you save in a fire?


A brain dump.
Yes, my last post was an existential crisis. And this one is too. But I feel sad.
So here's my head.
In its most vulnerable fashion.
I feel lonely. I feel socially lonely and romantically lonely.
I feel bleurgh about the fact I have so few friends in this stagnant city, that they're dispersed across the country and are living their separate lives and I feel shit about spending my nights alone, even though I sort of enjoy this. I also don't want to make new friends in this city of mine because I'm so ready to move on and away but then also do want to because I need newness. I feel fucked that my gap year isn't "fucking wild" but just sort of life and that's not what its supposed to be (this is, in fact, what its supposed to be because its just another part of life but societal expectations etc)...and that other people have so many friends and are having so much fun and hey shouldn't I be doing that? (shouldn't I be getting smashed every night to prove I'm having the time of my life, whilst simultaneously filling incessant gaps in my mental health? Shouldn't I be spending every night out loving life? Will I ever feel like I'm loving life?)

((vulnerability)) I am craving romantic engagement, I am lusting after investment and interest and someone just to talk to. I fear commitment and attachment but also just want something. To understand how I truly feel about about this topic read Zoe's post because she talks about what I'm too lol awkward to talk about and I'm shit at openness beyond existentialism.
Yeh. I feel very alone. 
Okay. Katie, stop with the italics.

But I also know for the good bits (trips to Budapest, Manchester, Paris, Barcelona, Birmingham, Brighton–yes, self recognise there's so much good happening) the shit has to happen, you have to work to have money to survive to have fun.

I know these are just January blues. And they will pass. But they also feel like they are plunging me into an abyss of darkness, under a cloak of stagnation, as though nothing around me is changing. Where do I meet new people (that don't live 10,000 miles away from me who I can only see for 3 hours every 3 months) who are fun and save me from loneliness but also not too invested; I descended into a sort of pathetic sporadic mess of tears after I fell in love (realised I fall in love much too easily) and then was discarded after the most superficial engagement so fuck, what's the real thing going to be like?

I also feel unwholey (that isn't even a word) unmotivated. In e-v-e-r-y way; I spend my mornings before work achieving approximately 2 things on a list of 10 and this makes me feel like I'm simply surviving and its grating on my mental health. I feel as though I'm pushing up a hill with a massive fucking boulder on my shoulders. I want to read and run and do yoga and mindfulness and write and create and meet people and change the world but I'm just plagued with the nausea of anxiety.
And it wasn't supposed to be like this.

Another realisation: getting so smashed you can't remember what happened isn't, in actuality, that fun, despite forever thinking it successfully removes inhibitions. It just sort of messes up your life for the next few days.


some good things: Libby (meeting for a drink, even if only for a few hours), Manchester (a night away with my best friends, feeling so at home in their hearts, having insurmountable fun and drama), travelling (booking a trip to Budapest with said friends, plans to travel to Barcelona alone (!) which is a serious bucket list amirite???, Paris), writing (because it isn't really helping at the moment, but it will), makeup (because its the only thing making me feel marginally good about myself atm).

Even writing this doesn't feel that therapeutic. I just don't feel like myself. In my head, I categorise periods of time with feelings. January will be a bad feeling.

The final panic. Oxford. (yeh I'm so lucky its like the second best uni in the fucking world but I've gotta keep it real and I'm freaking oooout). I haven't written an essay in like 7 months (how do I do it again?) and don't have the motivation to reengage with the subject. I'm also freaking out that its not the uni experience that society tells me I want but I don't actually really want. I crave a mix of clubbing and antics and academia and fun and hard work but am so stressed I won't find it. And I won't survive and I won't meet my people and will hate it (but I'd be freaking out wherever I was going so its ok.)

Okay. I feel so very far from myself right now.
Will these feelings pass.
I feel like I'm going to throw up.

so yeah. someone love me (because i don't love myself) and save me (because i can't save myself)
(yes i can. i've done it before)

(fuck count in this post: 8 (sorry if my profanity offends you))


ce soir, je me sens un peu seule.
In fact, I feel every emotion.
Except the good ones*


I am feeling an amalgamation of every fear and every sadness and every loneliness and every trigger is causing me to existentially fret and I think my mind might combust.

And I just want to lie on my floor

current thoughts: gap year (sick of work, dullness, losing motivation, bored), travelling (not happening even tho I want it to and why am I not fucking getting on and doing it), Oxford (not clever enough, not posh enough (even tho I detest that stereotype), not motivated enough, won't fit in, won't make friends, homesickness, loneliness), degree choice (should I be doing English? (no.)), me (am I the saddest human alive, also feeling ugly, stupid), friends (does it matter that my friends don't live in my city?), pressure ("force yourself to stay in your room tonight Katie because its lame to spend time with your family"), January (dark, cold), motivation (lack of), procrastination (not booking French course, based entirely on the fact I don't like phone calls), brain (what the fuck is wrong w me, why haven't I felt like myself for a while), love (will I ever find it), tears (why aren't they coming)...

This is so drenched in repulsive narcissism. But I don't have space in my brain to worry about that.

To save the utter self indulgence of this post, comment below your current thoughts, good or bad.

*(disclaimer: I am fine, just hormonal and prone to bursts of existentialism)


Towards the end of 2017, I bought a disposable camera and it went on a few adventures with me. A couple of weeks ago I got the pictures developed and I thought I would share my favourites.
They explore a month filled with trips to London and Oxford and drunken nights and celebrations and  a lot of fun.

Radcliffe camera, Oxford 
Primrose Hill @ sunset with Dalal, London 

View over London, Primrose Hill 
St Pauls Cathedral, London 
Nelsons Column, London
Expensive (and disappointing) cocktails w/ Libby, Old Spitalfields Market, London 
Christchurch College, Oxford
The view from my bed, Mansfield College, Oxford 


Tower Bridge, London 

Pizza ft. Dalal, London
National Theatre, Londres

My sister, on the train

Gals on NYE
calm country walks 
I adore the washed out, slightly hazy effect of disposable prints and the way they so-candidly capture a moment and its purity. I'll definitely be buying another over the next few months.

In other sightly monumental news, yesterday I received an offer from Oxford to study History. Pretty cool, huh? I was shaking with excitement but then had an unfortunate 6 hour shift at work that slightly dulled my elation. Last night, I felt weird about it all and sort of just wanted to cry but I won't talk about this too much because I am so lucky to have this insane opportunity. I went for a pint with my dear friends who were so happy for me and man, people who share your success are the best (special s.o to Dalal who was unbelievably excited for me, despite her own personal experience with Oxford and their gruelling application process).
SO yeah! Some exciting things ahead, lots to think about and things to consider! Obviously, I'm freaking out but hey, it is me. 

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le nouvel an

This post feels very old school, but I kind of love that.
New Years Eve was slightly anti–climatic but we won't talk about that; I enjoyed spending the end of 2017 with my bffs so I guess thats a winner.
I did, however, love my outfit and makeup and was just really feeling myself. I took advantage of this unusual sense of self love (and the fact that it was NYE) and maxed out on glitter. Something about the iridescent dust that clings to everywhere but where you want, makes me feel indestructible and, with some chunky boots and a shimmery top, I felt kind of killer.
I did, however, fail to get any pics that were really blog worthy or weren't slightly fuzzy reflections illuminated with a haze of narcissism. So this look is a recreation but you get the gist.

Make-up wise (oh wow I haven't talked about makeup on here in years), I have the distinct advantage of a sister who is makeup obsessed and thus was able to experiment. Some notable mentions of this look, for both your interest and my recollection, include a blend of some dark colours from the Naked Heat palette, a purple kiko loose glitter, 17 Tattoo me eyeliner (which is the BEST if you are semi competent at liquid eyeliner) and a collection mascara (which is actually really rather great). I have since worn this eye look to 3 separate events so I guess its a keeper.

And regarding hair, whilst in the photos I am sporting what has affectionately become known as a 'nun bun' (which, after adopting simply to get my hair off my face when working, has become a bit of a go to) for the actual night out I just wore it straight with a middle parting, another look I kind of love.

SO yeh. Despite outfit posts being a bitch to photograph (I tried to coerce my sister to participate but the £2 incentive wasn't quite cutting it) I'm going to try and incorporate a few more on my blog this year.

Hope your 2018's have started well.

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Since composing this post, the top has had to be returned. It kept on snagging and fraying and getting these funny lines all over it which is not what you want. I will be on the search for a similar, more durable version, however.