beautiful things.

“i’m not who you think i am”,  (what i really want to say),  11:11 hopes and wishes, a symphony of sound, abandoned buildings, accents, acoustic guitars, adventures&roadtrips, anthropology, apple blossoms, apple cider, aries, art, art journaling, autumn nights, awkwardness, baking, ballet flats, bedroom floors, being completely free, being silent, blood, blowing bubbles, books, broken people, bubbles, butterflies, calligraphy, cats, chai, cheesecake, chopsticks, christianity, coffee in the evenings, collar bones, coloured pencils, coloured sound, colouring books, comfort, compliments, control, correcting grammatical mistakes/spelling errors, crayons, creative writing, creativity, crisp autumn mornings, cupcakes, daisies&daffodils, daydreaming, digital photography, disposable cameras, dreamcatchers, dreams, ducks, extra large mugs, fairy lights, feathers, feeling dizzy, figuring things out, film photography, fingers stained with ink, flowering trees, fluffy clouds, foreign languages, foreign places, forests filled with magic, fresh smoothies, getting lost in novels, god, grass stains, gratitude, green tea, grey, gypsies, handwriting, hazy summer evenings, hip bones, hyacinths, icicles, imaginary friends, imagination, inspiration, instrumental music, introverted souls, jesus, journals, la langue française, lace, laughing, laying in the grass, listening to other people tell their story, lomography, long car rides, long walks, love, lowercase letters, luna lovegood, marvelous things, matcha, mental disorders, meringue, mist, mix tapes, music, new york city, old diaries, old photos, ophelia, organising, paper birds, passenger seats, penpals, perusing bookstores for hours, philosophical discussions, philosophy, photobooths, photography, piano playing, picking fresh fruit and eating it right off the plant, piles of books, play-doh, playing with cameras, playlists, poetry, polaroids, post-it notes, procrastination, prose, psychology, purple, quotes, rain, rainy days, random words, reading, reading by candle light, reading strangers’ blogs, riding bicycles, riding bicycles in skirts, rose red, rose white, sarcasm, scars, secrets, self-improvement, shameless self expression, shapes in clouds, sharpies, sheep, sitting on pavement under street lamps, spirituality, stained glass, starbucks, stars, starry nights, stationary, stepping on crunchy leaves, stickers, stuffed animals, sunrises, sunsets, sushi, swimming at night, swings, talking to myself, tea, tears, tetris, texting, the endless sea, the food network, the smell of a campfire, the smell of new books, the smell of used bookstores, the sound of typing, the sound of wind chimes, thrift stores, thunderstorms, train tracks, typography, unsent letters, vanilla, vintage bicycles, vintage dresses, walking alone in the morning, warm baths, watching people, wildflowers, wonder, words, words from the heart, writing, ★, ♪, ♫ = ♥



2015 was a year of ups and downs, discoveries and questions, recovery and relapse. It was a year that went so quick and so slow at the same time. It was a year that saw me working several different jobs. It was a year for re-kindling relationships and letting go of others.

I learned about myself, about money, about life. I went back to my hometown for the first time in three years and I realised just how much of my heart is still there. I took risks and I stayed quiet. I lived in the fog of deep depression and in the whirling vortex of white-hot mania. I started therapy again. I remembered how to write and how to make art. I worked on starting my own business venture.

I made progress and I failed. I sinned and I fell short. But I learned. I lost my faith and I started slowly working to find it again.

2015 was a year of thinking over doing, of existing over living.

It was a year of loss. But unlike years past, it was a year of growing in the loss and the sin. It was a year of dissociation, viewing my life and loss from above, from which I could gain metacognitive insight into my self. It was a year of new diagnoses and learning more about my various parts and personalities. It was a year of fragmentation and, finally, being able to put into words and voice that disconnection.

2016 will be the year of the heart. It will be a year of practice, of making the abstract concrete. It will be a year of doing.

2016 will be the year where I take the 18-inch journey and mend the broken strings connecting my head and heart. It will be a year of synthesis, bringing together the fractured parts of me, of undoing the compartmentalisation of self and wearing the same face with everyone.

2016 will be a year of honesty. It will be a year spent learning to be honest with myself, with others, and with God.

2016 will be a year of faith. It will be a year of finding faith again, of asking questions and learning to sit and meditate in the Truth. It will be a year of learning to love and be loved. It will be a year of seeking that childlike faith where I can sitting on the lap of Abba and just be.

2016 will be a year of letting go of perfectionism, of letting go of pain and lies. 2016 will be a year spend learning about the full weight and meaning of grace.