I Write

They’ll Never Get You…

“They’ll never get you,” he says, walking ahead of me, teetering on the edge of the gutter. “They’ll never see you like I do. And they can’t, you haven’t shown them the darkest and dustiest corners of your mind.”

I stop and stare at him, my shoe hitting a lip in the concrete.

He turns and edges closer to me, then reaches out and tucks a wayward curl behind my ear. “And you ask me not to love you,” he sneers.

I stare at him, willing myself to look away, knowing I won’t.

“It’s hard to not fall in love with someone,” he continues, getting even closer, “when they’ve shown you the mixed up parts of their soul, and you’ve shown them yours.”

I keep staring.

His hand is lingering on my cheek, his fingers falling past my ear.

“Say it,” he demands, towering over me, feet firmly planted atop the gutter.

I’m still staring at him.

“The deeper our conversations, the more I find to love about you.”

“Stop it,” I tell him.

“I won’t,” he retorts, “I won’t because I’ll never get enough of exploring who you are.”

“Don’t,” I beg, shaking my head from side to side.

He stares, long and hard.

I finally look away.

His hand drops off my face.

He takes a few steps and turns, pausing to gaze through the glass walls of an office building, fixated on a painting in the foyer.

I let him hover for a while, before approaching.

“It’s a cool painting,” I say.

He’s silent.

We stand, side by side, staring at the hues of orange and blue, red and violet, that blur in front of us.

“You might never say it,” he states, turning to face me, “but I know.” He starts to walk away.

Now I’m fixated on the painting.

“C’mon,” he shouts, “let’s roll.”

I turn and see him sauntering off, his boots kicking out just a bit to the side with each step. He walks like he has nowhere and everywhere to be, all at once. It’s captivating, and irritating.

“Let’s get a nightcap,” he suggests, swaggering down the street, “and you can continue to pretend you don’t love me.”

I laugh and scoff, all at once, smiling, and blushing.

It’s so annoying when he’s right.

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I Know

Unfuckwithable.

I’ve never understood people that choose negativity over positivity.

But as I’ve gotten older I’ve realised that some people are wired for negativity – they get off on being argumentative and combative. They thrive on being toxic. Thrive on destruction. And drama.

It’s harder to be positive. It’s harder to spread positivity. But – and I’ve said this a million times – it’s so worth it.

Negative people think they’re a victim of circumstance; positive people know they create their own reality.

Negative people live in scarcity – with a mindset of ‘there is not enough.’ Positive people live in abundance, knowing there is always enough.

Negative people know they are alive temporarily, and that scares them. Positive people know they are alive temporarily, and they think that’s awesome.

Negative people are in competition with the world. Positive people are in harmony with the world.

Negative people complicate things – they lie, especially, and most importantly, to themselves. Positive people are happy – especially, and most importantly, within themselves.

So why do people persist with being negative?

Ego.

Ignorance.

Control.

And because it’s easy.

And most people are lazy.

It’s easier to criticise someone else than to focus on your own shortcomings. It’s easier to plant the seed of doubt in someone than it is to work on your own self-doubt. It’s easier to judge than it is to self-reflect. It’s easier to mock someone else’s dreams than it is to have the courage to pursue your own. It’s always, always, always easier to be negative than positive.

But good things don’t grow in negativity. And do you know what’s louder than it? Positivity.

Positivity wins. Always.

For those of you working hard to be positive; keep it up. Stay in your lane. Ignore negativity. Do not feed into drama. Do not allow toxicity to drain you.

People will try and kill your dreams. People will try and assassinate your character. And when they don’t get their way, they’ll try harder. When they realise they can’t control you, they’ll try and control how other people see you.

Stay above it.

Trust that other people will see the truth.

And they will.

Because you can only hide in negativity for so long.

Be unbothered.

Unbothered by negative souls.

Because that’s a goal worth striving for.

If you can be unbothered by negative souls, then you’ll understand the true meaning of the word freedom.

And that makes you unfuckwithable.

When you are truly at peace and in touch with yourself, you’re unfuckwithable.

When nothing anyone says or does bothers you, you’re unfuckwithable.

When no negativity or drama can touch you, you’re unfuckwithable.

A dear friend recently described me as having ‘a no-fucks vivacity and an all-the-fucks heart.’ It might just be one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.

I do give no fucks, about the things that don’t matter.

I do give all the fucks, about the things that do.

I am unbothered. And unfuckwithable.

And I hope you can find the courage – and the calm – to be so too.

You have no idea how petrifying you will be to someone who only knows how to deal and trade in negativity when you’re unfuckwithable. When you’re positive. When you’re happy.

Their energy is wasted. Their words fall on deaf ears. Their efforts amount to nothing.

All the while you soar.

Believe.

Achieve.

Be kind.

Be positive.

Stay in your lane.

It’s harder.

It’s tempting to veer.

But stay in your lane.

I promise you it’s worth it.

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I Write

Condensation Drips On Brooklyn Rooftops

‘Nice view, huh?’ he asks, placing my drink on the cardboard coaster.

It’s so hot the flute starts dripping, condensation rolling down its curved base.

‘The best,’ I reply.

He pauses.

‘Where you from?’

I look at the coaster, then up at him.

‘Melbourne, Australia,’ I say, with a smile.

‘Wow, a long way from home. You like New York?’

The coaster is already soggy. This heat is some kind of hell.

‘I love New York,’ I answer, in the kind of tone usually reserved for a person, not a place.

‘I think New York loves you too,’ and he winks, quickly wiping the dew from the marble table, walking away.

I scull half of my drink. I don’t mean to, but this weather calls for more than a simple sip. I fall back into the lounge chair. Cross my legs. Close my eyes. And breathe out deeply. I squint and my eyes open.

I do love New York, I think to myself. I love the way everybody here wants to be somebody. The way they believe they can. I love the boldness of it, and the courage. The audacity, if you will.

I take another swig of my drink. I stare at the towering building across the river, the one that reclaimed the New York skyline after 9/11, the one I have grown to love, so much. I try and work out why it transfixes me. It’s just a building, I scoff to myself. But I can’t deny that every time I catch a glimpse of it, my heart flutters. There’s something about it. Something about the way the light dances off it. From a distance. Something about its boldness. From up close. Something about the way it catches my eye, from so many nooks across the city. I suppose it’s audacious, too.

I lift my glass to finish my drink. The coaster has risen with it, stuck to the base of the flute. It’s sweltering.

‘Another?’ he asks.

‘Absolutely,’ I reply.

He picks up the empty flute. Wipes the beads of water off the table, again.

And I smirk as he places a crisp, new coaster in front of me.

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I Am, I Want

Love Me Reckless

grab my hair

like you grabbed my heart

forcefully, with both fists

slide your hands down

my back, my hips

soak me in

those lips, your fingertips

i want it

the tornado of your love

gripped to my curves

take me, flood me, break me

don’t love me tenderly

love me reckless

render me breathless

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I Do, I Know

Go And Make Your Life Beautiful

“When I finally get…”

“Once I’ve bought…”

“When I finish…”

“Once I’ve done…”

Boring, wearisome words.

Lifeless excuses.

If you want to rob your life, of the good, and the great, of the grand, and the majestic, keep feeding yourself lies.

Wrap them up into a neat, safe, beige parcel and call them reasons.

Believe they’re what’s holding you back.

Believe they’re why you haven’t already.

Tirelessly wait for better days.

For “when I finally get…” and “once I’ve done…” and then, when you’ve got and you’ve done, you’ll realise the cost was living your one, precious life. Abandoning your dreams. Abandoning yourself.

You have everything you need – right now – to make your life beautiful. To do the things you love. To be the person you want to be.

You do not need to wait, or delay.

“When I…” and “once I…” are traps.

And you know they are.

Stop making excuses.

Stop waiting for the right time.

Stop wishing your life away.

I will say it again: you have everything you need – right now – to make your life beautiful.

Go and make your life beautiful.

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I Know

34 Things I Know, Now That I’m 34…

  1. Never stop being a good person because of bad people.
  2. Your worst battle will always be between what you know and what you feel. Go with the latter.
  3. Never let success get to your head. Never let failure get to your heart.
  4. Your time is best spent with people who make you see the world differently – not with those who flatter your view.
  5. Two things you’re going to need in life: hope and purpose.
  6. Nothing changes, if nothing changes.
  7. Find someone who speaks your language, so you don’t have to spend a lifetime translating your spirit.
  8. Own your choices.
  9. You need at least one friend in your life who understands what you do not say.
  10. Get uncomfortable. As often as possible.
  11. Some people may not deserve your love, but it doesn’t mean they don’t need it.
  12. Mostly, it’s the will, not the skill, that will be the difference.
  13. Be alone, more often than you’d like. It’s good for you.
  14. Positivity is a choice. And the happiness of your life depends on the quality of your thoughts.
  15. Being broken doesn’t give you the right to break other people.
  16. Be louder.
  17. The secret of your future is hidden in the habits of your daily routine.
  18. You give life to what you give energy to.
  19. Be afraid, but do it anyway.
  20. Perspective is everything, perception is just a lie.
  21. Never go too long without watching a sunset.
  22. Don’t put your happiness in other people’s hands. They’ll drop it. Every time.
  23. Only boring people get bored.
  24. It’s not a coincidence that the happiest people are the ones that do the most for others.
  25. Follow the flame from the fire that burns inside you, and you will always feel the light.
  26. Burn the candles, use the nice sheets, wear the fancy lingerie. Every day is a special occasion.
  27. Only insecure people judge others.
  28. No one else knows what they’re doing either.
  29. You must know your worth, and not discount it.
  30. You do not have to unscrew another person’s light bulb in order to shine.
  31. If you accept your flaws, no one can use them against you. And that’s power.
  32. The wound may not be your fault, but the healing is your responsibility.
  33. It doesn’t matter who you’ve been, or what you’ve done – all that matters is who you want to become.
  34. In a world full of fish, be a shark.
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I Am

A Beautiful Moment In Time

“Don’t deny your fire,” he said. “Just be who you are and burn.”

Whenever the sky is hazy and pink, I think of him. And what he said. In that beautiful moment in time.

“March on solider,” he said, as he pulled me up from the ground by my left shoulder, while I wiped tears from my cheek. Whenever things get tough, I think of him. And what he said. In that beautiful moment in time.

“Everything else is just extra,” he said, as he swigged the rest of his coffee and threw his jacket on. “It’s all glitter and sparkles.” And he was right. In that beautiful moment in time.

“It’s okay to ricochet between certainties and doubts,” he said. And it is. Whenever I’m in between, I think of him. And what he said. In that beautiful moment in time.

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I Am, I Do, I Know

Merry, Forever. Happy, Always.

I felt a lump swell in the base of my throat yesterday.

I instantly knew what it was.

I’ve felt it a couple of times this year already; in the days leading up to my birthday, and Father’s Day, and his birthday.

It’s unmistakable – a sharp bulge, that intensifies the more I try to quash it.

Gulp.

Gulp.

Gulp.

But it remains.

I wonder if it’ll be like this forever.

I suspect it might still be too early to know.

There’s been a lot of ‘firsts’ this year.

First without this, and first without that.

People say it gets easier with the seconds and thirds.

I’m not convinced.

Time passes, time heals. Maybe. But it doesn’t erase.

And I wouldn’t want it to.

So many years of saturated memories; tinsel flooded floorboards, and sunburn, tables overflowing with food, and cherry stained fingertips. Music permeating the walls. Laughter, over the crunch of wrapping paper.

For the most part, this Christmas won’t be all that different from any other.

There’ll just be one person missing.

It’s disconcerting how life ticks along, as though the people who once loomed so large were never there at all.

But of course they were.

I’ve got little interest in popping crackers or faking festivity over small talk with people I’ve no partiality to.

I just want to be around the people I love, that get it.

The ones that you don’t have to explain anything to, because they know.

It’s funny, what, and who, you’re drawn to after loss. The comfort you find in the familiar, the warmth in revisiting old memories, and with it, old feelings.

I like being close to that.

And as far away as possible from the rest of it.

It’s hard to describe – the immense sense of loss, the extensive gaping hole – because it is entirely at odds with – sublime happiness, genuine excitement – and here I am, occupied by all of them, at once.

It is both melancholic, and marvellous. Delicate, and misinterpreted. Complex, and cathartic. Light, and dark.

The lump comes.

And goes.

It’s unmistakable.

But maybe instead of trying to quash it, I’ll just let it linger.

It’s a nice reminder, in some ways.

To stay near the people, and do the things, that feel like light.

Not just for a season.

Merry, forever.

Happy, always.

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I Know

Freedom…

There is no such thing as ‘getting over it’ in life.

You don’t get to go back.

Trauma changes us and tragedy disrupts us.

And that’s ok.

Maybe you lost someone.

Maybe you lost yourself.

Maybe you’ve had more bad days than good ones.

Maybe you’ve made a mistake.

Or ten thousand.

You are not defined by them.

What you’ve done is not who you are.

You aren’t damaged.

Don’t get bogged down by your ‘failures’.

You aren’t the opinion of someone who doesn’t know you, or even someone that does but doesn’t know what wakes you up in the middle of the night.

You are better for going through – and not around – something terrible.

The best people I know have depth, and parts of their story that don’t shine.

Don’t dull the muddy bits.

I’ll never stop falling in love with people who have scars but can still sustain the courage to dream. And the courage to re-write their story. Sometimes over and over.

That’s what freedom is.

That’s what rising up means.

To write the story of “this is what tried to keep me from stepping into the best version of myself, and this is how I told it to ‘sit down’”.

Maybe you’ve survived a bunch of thunderstorms and continued walking.

Maybe you got back up.

Multiple times.

You are wiser for it.

You are better for it.

Don’t ever let anyone, or any one experience, stop you from living and doing the things you love.

Society doesn’t get to tell you how to live your life.

It’s your life.

You get to decide how it goes.

There’s no trophy for having it all figured out by 30, or 40, or 50.

Life is about creating as many genuinely happy, passionate moments as possible – for you, and others.

That’s it.

Chase your dreams. Fall in love. Travel. Take detours. Study. Fall out of love. Switch jobs. Move. Stay. Fight. Give up. Go. Learn. Swerve. Grow.

There is more to you than yesterday.

Freedom is knowing that, at the dawn of a new tomorrow.

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I Am, I Know

Life Is A War Of Head Vs. Heart

Life is a war of head vs. heart. It’s tiny little moments, like: watching the flickering lights of the city from a rooftop, while the soft breeze tangles your hair and kisses your cheek. Waking up early in the middle of winter to feel the chill cut through your coat as a chai latte runs down your throat. It’s that marone jumper you love, that still smells like him.

Life is messy. It’s making mistakes, like: one too many wines that numb your lips but not your tongue. Feeding feelings with memories, instead of drowning them in tears. Driving too fast. It’s being afraid of nothing, except saying exactly how you feel, because then it’ll be real.

Life is glorious. It’s sublime moments, like: watching a radiant sunset, and feeling its glow warm your cheekbones. Goosebumps tingling across your body, as he runs his hand up your thigh. Midnight conversations with people that matter. It’s that spark, that begins when you lock eyes and ends with your souls dancing together.

Life is magic.

If you listen, it will tell you.

If you look, you will find it.

If you do, you will become.

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I Know

33 Things I Know, Now That I’m 33

1. There’s only one person responsible for your life – you.

2. It takes guts to be kind.

3. You can’t be distracted by comparison if you’re captivated by purpose.

4. A sunrise doesn’t define its glow by how it set the night before; you shouldn’t define yourself by yesterday either.

5. Blowing out someone else’s candle won’t make yours shine any brighter.

6. Whatever you focus on grows.

7. Where and how you choose to spend your time is telling – you will always make time for the things you value.

8. The best thing about the worst time of your life is that you get to see the true colours of everyone.

9. Not everyone is gold; some are simply gold-plated.

10. You gotta be a little savage.

11. Hostility towards unfamiliarity is true ignorance.

12. You aren’t owed shit; act accordingly.

13. Grief is the price of love – and it’s worth it.

14. Things may not always go to plan, and that might be the very best outcome.

15. Never judge someone by the opinion of others.

16. Nothing great can be achieved with selfish people.

17. Time heals nothing. It just replaces – or dims – memories.

18. Don’t harden up when someone mistreats you – being bitter is a waste of time, and a true disservice to yourself.

19. Feelings aren’t final – they’re fluid.

20. You leave pieces of yourself in everyone you’ve ever loved. That’s quite a responsibility.

21. You may not be able to control your situation, but you can always control your attitude towards it.

22. Collect moments, not things.

23. Never allow waiting to become a habit.

24. Don’t change parts of who you are, or what you do, or how you do it, to please someone else. Unless your aim is to be miserably unsatisfied.

25. When you stop caring about what other people think of you, you’ll find true freedom.

26. Where possible, skip the small talk. Everyone is deep, most are just afraid to dive.

27. The ‘little things’ are never really that little – they’re often the most important.

28. If you can only let go of three things, make them these: grudges, the past, and poisonous people.

29. You will never be able to escape your own heart – so listen to it.

30. Stress literally achieves nothing. Action fixes everything.

31. Worrying literally achieves nothing. Action fixes everything.

32. Pursue a life of meaning, and the happiness will come.

33. When in doubt, be extra.

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I Am, I Do, I Know

As Good As Can Be Expected

My Dad passed away two weeks ago.

People keep asking me how I’m going, as though they’re half expecting me to break in front of them.

I’m glad they ask.

I’ve realised it’s much nicer than not being asked.

How am I going?

I’m not sure.

Mostly I say, ‘as good as can be expected.’

I suppose that is true.

I’m not sure what the expectation is when you lose one of the most important, pivotal, beloved people in your life, but I feel like I’m doing as good as I can be – I’m waking up, and showering, and eating, and caring for my son, and driving my car, and running errands, and seeing family and friends, and cooking, and cleaning, and checking emails, and making phone calls, and planning, and doing all the little things people do that fill their days.

Some people don’t know what to say, which I somewhat understand, but here’s something else I’ve realised; it’s not that hard to say ‘I’m thinking of you’ or ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ or ‘I hope you are doing as good as can be expected’.

I have been showered in support, and love, and thoughts, and I feel them, wrapped around me. I am so appreciative of every single one of them.

But my Dad has died.

He’s gone.

And my life is forever changed.

Everything is kind of the same, but paradoxically, absolutely nothing is the same.

Nothing will be the way it used to be, ever again.

I am mostly fine, except for when I am not. I am mostly ok, except for when I am not.

Sometimes it slowly creeps up on me, like a looming dread in the pit of my stomach, and sometimes it hits me, bang out of nowhere, and I catch myself clutching my breath.

I’m as good as can be expected, but I am angry.

I’ve got a simmering rage inside me that I’m containing, but boy does it bubble. I’ve had to remind myself, every day, to ‘let it go’, that ‘it’s not worth it’, to ‘calm down’.

I’m as good as can be expected, but I feel robbed.

Robbed that Dad didn’t get enough time, that I didn’t get enough time, that we all didn’t get enough time. Robbed for what he’ll miss, for what I’ll miss, for what we’ll all miss.

It’s true that we don’t know our own strength until we need to; people have commended me for mine, which is lovely, but also slightly odd.

I’m ‘strong’ because being anything less seems like a disservice to Dad; to his honour, and legacy. I’m ‘strong’ because I have a child to raise, and a family to love, and being anything less seems like a disservice to them.

People see strength as ‘getting on with it’ – helping organise a funeral, and saying a eulogy without falling apart, and running yourself into the ground with errands, and doing as good as can be expected, and they say, ‘Good on her, look how strong she is,’ like you’re a show dog at a competition.

That is not strength.

That is autopilot, running on adrenalin.

Do you want to know what strength is?

Strength is not snapping someone’s neck in rage.

Strength is not losing your shit at someone else’s incompetence.

Strength is repeating the same story, over and over, to sympathising guests, when all you want to do is lie down in bed with the doona well above your head.

Strength is choosing not to be negative; choosing life, and beauty, and adventure, and wonder.

My Dad may have died, but that doesn’t give me the right to act like a dick.

So I am being as strong as I can, in the way I know how: by not being an arsehole. The world has enough of those.

Death evokes all sorts of feelings and reactions in people, and they’re all ok. There’s no right or wrong way to grieve, or empathise. For the most part, people use it as an opportunity to think about themselves. At the centre of their own universe, they think of how death affects them. I’ve discovered, in this fortnight that feels like a year, who is really there for me, and who is not, who my true friends are, and who are just people I know.

There’s one small thing I’ve found exceptionally difficult: how quickly ‘is’ and ‘are’ become ‘was’ and ‘were’.

The instant change in tense is jarring.

And, there’s another thing: how the world just keeps spinning.

My Dad may have died, but that doesn’t mean the world stops.

I get that.

That is the way it should be.

It’s just a little unnerving, how everything goes on, swiftly, at full tilt.

It’s all very surreal; that this has happened, that this is life now.

I’m not convinced that anyone can truly know what it feels like to lose a parent, until they have lost one. And the well-wishes are pleasant, and the thoughts are kindly, but the advice is inordinate and borders on offensive. You either know, or you don’t, and if you don’t, you’re fortunate.

I’ve unwillingly become part of a club I don’t really want to be in but the other people are lovely, and they get it, and the biscuits are nice.

I’ve discovered there’s no real preparation for losing a loved one; whether it strikes you out of nowhere or you have a long lead-time – there’s no difference whatsoever. There’s only here or gone and until they are gone, they are here.

Predominantly, I understand there’s no right or wrong way to go about any of it. Being close to my family and friends has helped me, but some people might choose to shut off. I know that people mean well – and it’s better having people mean well than not having people at all. I recognise that, like with anything in life, there’s constant challenges and choices, and I get to choose my choices, and own them too. I acknowledge that grief is a bit like a wave, and I think I’ll be buoyed forever…

but I also know that I’ll still laugh

and love

and soar

and that the thirty-two years I got were better than thirty, or twenty-five, or ten, or none at all

and that so much of who I am is because of him.

So much. Of who I am. Is because. Of him.

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I Am

i used to write poetry…

i-used-to-write-poetry-sandi-sieger-in-the-thick-of-it-blog-melbourne-writer

i used to write poetry
like i knew what i was doing
but
i never did
i still don’t

i’ve worn lost like a badge of honour
like a wayward explorer
but
really
i just don’t want to be found

i have stood
and listened
to the telling
at the yelling
and then i’ve silently sat
thinking ‘well, what about that?’

i have realised there’s lost
and then there’s lost
and they are not the same
one is a bit romantic
the other not so much

and maybe i’ve made excuses
even though i always say
‘never make excuses’
but
really
i think everyone does

people say
‘i wouldn’t do anything differently’
i used to say
‘i wouldn’t change a thing’
but
i absolutely would
do every thing differently
and
i absolutely would
change some things

i don’t have regrets
not because
i don’t have them
but
instead
because i choose not to think about them

when you can’t change what’s been
what’s the point of thinking about
what
could
have

i have found two places
where my mind can wander
unencumbered;
doing the dishes
and
standing under running water

i think time is irreplaceable
and there is none to waste
but
really
every now
and again
i zone out
doing the dishes
or
standing under running water
and i know
now
that is one of the most precious ways
to savour it

i live
and will die
by two words
back yourself

i will whisper
back yourself
every time
all the time
until
i
whisper
no
more

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I Know

32 Things I Know, Now That I’m 32

32 Things I Know, Now That I'm 32

1. In a world where everyone’s running around, in pursuit of goals, trailing their to-do lists, be in a race towards what makes you feel good.

2. Fuck fear. Fuck it hard.

3. Honour your feelings.

4. Have your own back.

5. There’s no such thing as coincidence. And nothing is ever random.

6. You already know the answer. So follow your gut. Follow your soul. Because you already know the answer.

7. It’s only ever too late if you think it is.

8. Appreciate people for who and what they are, and for the place they have in your life.

9. If someone treats you poorly, it’s usually more about them than it is about you.

10. You can only fix something that is broken.

11. You really can do whatever you want. I’m continually shocked by how many people do not understand this.

12. When you’re scared of the height, jump. When you’re fearful of the outcome, delve. When you’re doubtful, believe.

13. Be humble.

14. I’m yet to meet a person that’s tired of seeing a blue sky. I’m also yet to sit under one and feel anything but serene.

15. Fuck ordinary. Fuck it hard.

16. Everyone has something within them that sets them alight. If you don’t feel the fire, start burning some shit.

17. It’s ok to change, and swing, and be madly passionate about one thing, and then another, and it’s ok to change your mind, and change your beliefs, and swap and switch. It really is. Everything is fluid. You, and your mind, should be too.

18. It doesn’t matter who you used to be, or what you’ve done, all that matters is who you’ve become.

19. If you want to be smart, and you seek to be compassionate, go somewhere new, as often as you can, and meet someone new, as often as you can.

20. Trouble isn’t always so bad.

21. Create your own definition of success, and work towards that.

22. Spend a bit less time focusing on how you look, and a bit more time focusing on how you think.

23. We don’t meet people by accident; they’re meant to cross our path for a reason.

24. If you’re undecided, follow what gives you energy. Energy doesn’t lie.

25. You could be the same. Or you could be better. You decide.

26. It’s only ever too hard if you think it is.

27. I’ve learnt more from pain, than pleasure. Give your heart away. Over and over. Don’t be guarded. Feel. And learn.

28. Be kind.

29. If you’re still undecided, spend some time alone. Silence has a way of delivering solutions.

30. It’s only ever too complicated if you think it is.

31. Perfect is an illusion.

32. Whatever you do, don’t die before you’re dead.

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I Am

Friday

AIDS Memorial Garden, Golden Gate Park, San Francsico, California

Here’s some things I am:

– The kind of tired sleep doesn’t fix
– Hopeful
– Embracing growth, plunging into change, still breathing
– Bruised
– Listening with an intent to understand, not reply
– Thirsty
– Getting better at saying no
– Unapologetically doing my thing

Here’s some things I know:

– Almost is the saddest word there is
– You don’t fall on top of a mountain, you climb up one
– Existing is different from being alive
– Halfway is no good; go all in
– The things worth saying, most people don’t
– Fight change or flow with it; change goes on
– You can’t fake tenderness
– Risk is given a bad rap, usually from people who never take any

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