At this point there is nothing left for me to do.

All the plans have been made and all I can do now is just wait for things.  And hope that they all pan out the way that I want them to in my head. Which is almost too much pressure.

Maybe that’s where all of those bridezilla stories come from. Because there is just all this pressure on everything. Because you do everything that you need to do for the day but you have no way of really knowing if it will all work out on the day.

I know that I picked a date that would have the least risk of bloating or unexpected visitors, but hey sometimes my body is weird and shit happens. I don’t know what my face is going to do because hormones do weird things and I could wake up with a new constellation on my face. Maybe I’ll realise that I hate the colour scheme once I’ve had some space from it.

It’s unlikely, but maybe I will fall out with one of my best friends turned bridesmaids. I mean we made it through the whole process of planning the wedding relatively unscathed, but there could be something there the finally breaks it all down.

Maybe something terrible will happen with the catering and everyone will get food poisoning. Or the open bar will run out of booze. Maybe the venue will have lost our booking. Or I will split my dress when I put it on and have to get married in my slightly less show-stopping reception dress. Maybe the weather will just change drastically and a hurricane will sweep through.

Maybe I should just go back to accepting that I have nothing left to do in regards to the whole thing and just enjoy that fact. The whole thing is now completely out of my hands. I’ve planned all I can planned. Now I just have to do it.

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The shadow always seems to get bigger with each passing day at this rate, which is kind of unnerving to be honest. Because I didn’t really think that was actually possible anymore. I thought that they had reached their capacity. But apparently not.

There are just new things that they find to be proud of, even when what has actually happened if really not all that impressive in the grand scheme of things. They did well on a test. Or they got into another uni. I got into 5. All 5. Including THE two, which I only applied to because I felt this intense sense of pressure about it from them. Not that they knew it. I felt like I had to prove myself to them because otherwise what would be the point. They wouldn’t notice me otherwise if I didn’t shout about myself loud enough.

Not that they did when I got into them all anyway.

And not to be rude but I got into better unis than him anyway. Way better. You know like THE two. The one that everyone always seems to talk about at all times because they are the ultimate measure of success at the end of it all. But with him.

Every time that they declare that we need to have toast because another conditional offer came through or that we need to go and have a dinner and celebrate all the success I find myself wanting to just crawl into a corner and hide away from it all. I don’t need to celebrate that success it hasn’t happened yet. Or may never happen. I know him. Better than they do.

I know that he doesn’t even want to go beyond secondary school education but feels like he has to because of the pressure. I know that he wants to focus on other things. Feed the creative aspect of his interests. Just take a breath. Maybe finally recover from that football injury that he got nearly 10 years ago and has never really been able to get over because there is always someone needing him to complete their team because he’s just ‘the best’. I know that he can’t tell them that because if he does then they will either ignore him entirely or just stop talking to him. They really are either or.

They had one kid and loved her just fine. Then they had another and decided they couldn’t quite share the love between the two of them and so didn’t try. They focused all their time and energy on one of them and encouraged them to do everything that there heart desired and then when they found the thing that they enjoyed the most they encouraged that they stick with it. And they did. And they did everything they were supposed to do and even then they still knew that the attention was conditional.

It’s always conditional. It seems to work in the exact opposite to everything that you hear. And that’s the world that we grew up in. His shadow grows in size and overshadows me more and more each day but that means that I get to live just fine. I got to go the uni that I wanted and I get to do the job that I want and I get to basically be whoever the hell I want, which is mainly be his soundboard these days. I don’t mind all that much anymore.

It’s the least I can do.

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I still hate the name.

I told her that when she first suggested it to me. I told her that when she got the signs made up for the building. I told her again when they actually went up on the building. I don’t think I’ll ever stop telling her.

It’s become our thing.

Even now when I’m standing behind a bar watching people push and shove to get someone to notice them in the seas of people all congregating there, all chatting between themselves weirdly perfectly content with the fact that it’s taking ages for them to be served, I hate the name.

Clearly the flyers that I helped distribute around the city for weeks and the emails I sent out to ‘influencers’ and all the social media posts that I somehow found myself in charge of paid off.

Clearly I am the only one who kind of really hates the name.

Maybe it’s the English graduate in me that refused to use text speak for years because if you could type ‘U’ then you could type the world really it’s not much quicker. I’ve learned over the years that my largest pet peeve remains incorrect spellings and this is no exception. Even though I have heard all of the perfectly crafted ideas and thought processes behind it, that one missing letter still finds a way to creep under my skin and irritate me.

For some reason it reminds me of expresso when it should be espresso. It just scratches at me in a really hard to reach place. The letter in question isn’t even really pronounced. I’ve got into so many arguments these last few years over a silent letter because the spelling and grammar snob won’t quit.

Even now.

When I refuse to look into the mirror opposite this bar. It holds the reflection of the name brazenly plastered above the bar. Twice. Just in case you forget where you are. I’ve been assured more than once that one of them will cease to exist after the opening week.

I know that will be forgotten though and that it will be there indefinitely. I won’t be the one to remind her she said she would take on down. And I know she will find some reason for it stay. Like how she’s gotten used to it being there, or how shes all about the symmetry it provides and she can’t part with that any time soon. It will stay.

And I think I kind of want it to.

Even though I hate it.

She doesn’t.

This is the most excited I’ve ever seen her for anything. And ultimately, that’s all that matters.

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‘Welcome to Harvard…’

Reading those 3 letters on the top of the page through my blurry vision almost doesn’t feel real. I can’t get the letter to stop trembling slightly in my hands and so it’s hard to convince myself that I am reading the words correctly. It’s hard to believe that all the hard work actually appeared to pay off.

All the tears and late nights. All the endless cramming of numbers and words about books that I didn’t even like. All the stress induced panic attacks and sleepless nights worrying about what would and wouldn’t be on a test that I never had any hope of predicting anyway.

All of it paid off.

In the best possible way.

Harvard felt like a dream school.

Something that didn’t quite exist in the real world. Especially in my real world.

But there it is. In slightly blurry letters.

I almost can’t get quite past the first sentence. Right there below my name. ‘Welcome to Harvard…’ I keep re-reading it over and over again. Thinking that it might change suddenly if I blink often enough. I don’t know when the shock will wear off from seeing it. Or whether it will ever wear off.

Part of me hopes that it never will. But then part of me hopes that I can get over it so I can give it all that I’ve got.

For now though…

I got into Harvard.

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Hi, Hey, Hello!

Something about this current heatwave has been making me feel some kind of way.

First of all I guess I’m hot, but after that whole seemingly never ending beast from the east bullshit I am not really going to complain about this shit for now.

Secondly I am tired, but that is not really anything to do with the heat and more to do with my anxiety levels being through the damn roof. Hopefully after this week I can just shake it off and leave it in June.

Thirdly this weather just makes me feel like being very unproductive. Which isn’t great when you have a job to do But I just wanna laze about in the sun (shade) and read a book. Eat strawberries and watermelon, reading a book (or books) and just chilling.

Maybe it’s because I’ve not had a long period of time off since April and I’m not due to have anymore off until October and so I am just feeling all the chill the fuck out vibes.

And also music right now is really putting into some vibes. Like those I just wanna chill by a speaker that is playing all the songs.

Maybe I’m just feeling nostalgic because I took all those long ass summers that I used to get at school for granted. Like an idiot.

I could really do with like 3 months off to do nothing but bum around London and sit in parks and drink and eat. And just kind of not be on all the time for a bit.

I’m being a little melodramatic. It’s just one of those weeks. I forgot what they felt like, it’s been a while…

Parentheses count: 2. See you tomorrow!


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It’s almost impressive the way that he still manages to have an affect on me.

How I know when he has entered a room because the energy just shifts for me.

Like it’s charged now. Thick. Heady.

Like I don’t really know what to do with my hands anymore. They just won’t settle anywhere comfortably except in the folds of the back of his shirt or in his hair, I imagine.

I can’t find out in this particular setting. Which I think he is doing on purpose. This is his thing. That I kind of have to be at because I’m supportive, but I knew it would prove to be a problem for me.

This is where he is in his element.

Something about that gets me going.

We both know it.

It’s like this unspoken thing between us.

A thing that developed over time and we never really spoke about it but at this point it’s been over a decade. We both know. There’s no hiding it.

It becomes a game between us.

It starts whenever the second one of us enters the room.

We don’t even really speak. Depending on the event some people don’t even know we’re together. That for some reason seems to make everything better. I don’t know why. It just does.

We just circle the room, mingle in our own groups. Talk about whatever to whoever. Sometimes I don’t even really remember what the hell I’m talking about but it’s all just part of this game. So it never really matters. Which may be a problem I guess for others.

Not for us.

It’s part of what we do.


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Hi, Hey, Hello!

So, I’m a musicals fan.

A big one.

I have a whole playlist on my phone dedicated to all the cast recordings that goes on for about 6 hours. In fact that playlist for sure needs updating because I have so many new ones on my phone that I have just not been keeping track of. I have listened to almost nothing but the Mean Girls cast recording since it came out like a month go. I keep thinking that I’m bored of it and then I find myself going back and realise that maybe I’m not.

I have such a problem with it that I forgot that The Book of  Mormon existed and the only reason I remembered is because I ended up in some kind research hole where I discovered that someone at some point had played Elder Price and then I was just like ‘oh yeah, that’s a thing’.

Basically I love musicals.

And I decided on a whim this year that I was going to try and see more theatre, and I guess, given that I appear to be drawn to musicals more than anything else, that I was going to see more musicals. I feel like so far this month I have seen two musicals and this year in total I’ve seen 5.

The whim started on my birthday when I had literally no plans and the R came over and we ordered pizza and I was just dicking about on my phone when TodayTix was recommended as an app I should download in an email and so I did and then later that day I was at the Apollo Victoria waiting to see my fave show for the 5th (I think) time.

And then I found cheap Dreamgirls tickets and then Kinky Boots and well I realised that this would be a great way to see more shows that I hadn’t already seen and also maybe get into some shows that I have definitely already seen but want to relive (I’m looking at you Mormon).

This app has also opened my eyes to a lot of plays that I just would not have thought to go and see because they just would not be on my radar and so I am now actively considering them.

This isn’t the first time that I have had this thought, I have it pretty often to be honest. I just love live theatre so much that every time I go I think I should do this more often, but I just don’t. One reason is due to the cost, but I feel like with the introduction of this app into my life, while a tad dangerous, is actually what I needed in order to try and see a bit more theatre.

And hopefully I will I’ve got my eye on a few shows that I think I might like and also you never know when a discount is gonna get applied to tickets.

Right now, for sure I am seeing Heathers in August, Hamilton (again) in December and later this week the wait will  FINALLY be over for Cursed Child. I’m excited.

Parentheses count: 3. See you tomorrow!

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