65 Days

Staring at the little column to the right of my blog I noticed that I have done 300 posts so far this year. One for each day so far, and it made me realise that there are only 65 days after today until 2016 is over. How did this happen? I can't recall where this year has gone, and how fast it has passed me. I was told your final year in sixth form will be fast but I didn't expect it to be true. I've been so consumed in essays, socialising and dating I just hadn't noticed months fly right past me. I kind of want it to stop, put up a barrier and call time to a halt. Just so I can stand in the second, breathe and enjoy a singular frozen moment.

65 Days

Thursday, 27 October 2016

what would you know? (Monologue)

What would you know? Standing there glaring at me, with god knows what bullshit going through your stupid head. Sure whisper to your friend there, it's not like you have anything better to do. Yes my tights are laddered, and this dress has stains, and yes it came from a man, but what do you know? For all you know I could be a victim. a victim of crime and punishment, a victim of the bottomless pit we redeem as society. I am not as stupid as these red rags make me look, I have a degree, yeah bet you think I'm lying, three years studying bleeding photography, and what a pretty picture I am now. You will go places they told me, places yeah on the corner and under the gutter on a flashy Friday night. Education, it means nothing. Sure I have a degree but where has it gotten me? No jobs straight outta uni, and here I am back to square one. What I have learned though, it's not what you know; it's who you know. Some weeks I can be dined and shown off, from a good word from a past client. other's a quickie in some stingy two-star hotel, I suppose it's a bed really just be thankful, some clients want it weird places, but hey what would you know? Of course I don't enjoy it, most of the time. Sometimes there is a nice fella from time to time, gentle and those are the times I imagine that I'm not lonely, and for a night I pretend like he's the love of my life and then the morning comes and those pretend thoughts and feelings are flushed down the toilet with my vomit. So yeah, laugh it up and stare, I am surviving and what are you doing? Holding your twenty pound coffee in one hand and gawping at me like I am the freak. You don't care about me or my struggles, you just want something to talk about, something to turn your nose up. Well here I am, take a good hard luck because between you and me I don't think I am gonna last much longer.

what would you know? (Monologue)

Tuesday, 26 July 2016