Letters to nowhere...

YOUR LIFE IS NOT AN EPISODE OF SKINS.

THINGS WILL NEVER LOOK QUITE AS GOOD AS THEY DO IN A FADED, SUN-DRENCHED POLAROID.

YOUR DAYS ARE NOT AN EDITORIAL FROM LULA.

YOUR LIFE IS NOT A SOFIA COPPOLA MOVIE, OR A CHUCK PALAHNIUK NOVEL, OR A CHARLES BUKOWSKI POEM.

GRACE CODDINGTON ISN’T YOUR CREATIVE DIRECTOR.

BON IVER AND JOY DIVISION DON’T PLAY SOFTLY IN THE BACKGROUND AT APPROPRIATE MOMENTS.

YOUR HYSTERICAL TEENAGE DIARY ISN’T A WORK OF ART.

YOUR ROOM PROBABLY ISN’T SELBY MATERIAL.

EVERY WORD THAT COMES OUT OF YOUR MOUTH WILL NOT BE BEAUTIFUL AND POIGNANT, AND INFINITELY QUOTABLE.

YOUR PAIN WILL NOT BE PRETTY. CRYING TILL YOU VOMIT IS ALWAYS SHIT. YOU CANNOT ROMANTICISE HURT. OR SADNESS. OR LONELINESS.

YOU WILL HAVE TO GO WORK, AND HANGOVERS, AND BAD HAIR DAYS.

THE TRAIN BEING LATE WON’T LEAD TO ANY FATEFUL ENCOUNTERS, IT WILL MAKE YOU LATE.

SOMETIMES YOUR WORK WILL SUCK. SOMETIMES YOU WILL SUCK. FAR TOO OFTEN, EVERYTHING WILL SUCK - AND NOT IN A WES ANDERSON KIND OF WAY.

AND THERE IS NO DIVINE CONSOLATION - ONLY THE KNOWLEDGE THAT WE WILL HOPEFULLY EXPERIENCE THE FULL SPECTRUM - AND THAT SOMETIMES, JUST SOMETIMES, LIFE WILL FEEL LIKE A COPPOLA FILM.

Read this short article somewhere on the Internet and couldn't help thinking about my boyfriend...


Reasons for if I don’t reply to your text:

• I reply at the speed of molasses
• I lost track of it because what is organisation
• I didn’t notice that you replied
• I legit cannot think of any way to continue and awkwardly stopped
• I’ve already mentally replied to you and wandered into the depths of distractions and forget

Troublemaking at the library...

Excuse me, miss - could you hand me that book over there?

No, the one further down... all the way down - yes, bend over like that. Bottom shelf, please.

No, not that one... further to the left.

What? No, I'm not feeling your bum, just steadying you. It's hard to keep your balance bent over like that wearing heels and all.

Why, the inside of your thigh is very smooth. Do you mind terribly if I put my hand a bit further up your skirt, miss?

Steady... yes, just hold on to that shelf. Doesn't this feel nice? It seems like I've found a rather wet spot up here. Let me just pull these knickers aside...

Really, I think you have a bit of a problem here. Let me see if it helps if I just slide my thumb inside... like this. And now I can just cup your pussy with my fingers, and keep my thumb in there nice and snug.

Miss, you've got to keep quiet... this is a library after all.

Come now. Straighten up. Look - see how wet my fingers are? Now what are we going to do about this?

- MON MOUTH

Ladies, here's a fact for you.

I learned something new today:

On average menstruation starts at the age of twelve and ends at the age of fifty two.

Let's think about this for the minute.

Forty years of periods means... Four hundred and eighty periods, times that by an average length of five days...that’s two thousand four hundred days of bleeding, or six point fifty eight years of blood.

After telling me this, Suzie turned to me and said, "think of all the people you could drown in nearly seven years worth of blood..." The thought of drowning in thick, gloopy blood made me gag.