The Virtue of Being a Nobody in a Sea of Somebody's

It's a curious conflict of ego, when you enter a situation and immediately realise you're the least important thing about it.

A year ago it had rendered me awkward, a little desperate even. But - while it may seem laughable to get so deep and philosophical about just an event - there was something remarkably different about this year, and certainly not because I'd become any less of a nobody.

Becoming A More Dedicated Writer

It's unavoidable and dirty, something we bury deep down to hide even from ourselves - but the truth is, most of the time, watching other people succeed in something you've always dreamed of doing, sucks. 

The Kindness of One in the City of Strangers

Truly, New York City is home for the strange. I could have never anticipated just how many strangers would end up looking out for me during my time there, and providing me with the most wonderful stories, too. This is the story of perhaps my favourite encounter with a stranger. And it all began with an idea.

About halfway through my trip, I realised a metamorphosis had occurred. I was no longer that same girl who'd stepped out onto the tarmac at JFK wearing - very erroneously - black tights and a jumper. A familiar flower was beginning to unfurl in my chest and lingered on the edge of my every experience. 

There's a book in this, it said.

Deconstructing Jealousy

It's widely understood that 'comparison is the thief of joy', and nowhere is that more applicable than online. 

Whilst inundated with the dazzling highlights of everyone else's ~amazing~ lives, achievements and successes, we can't help but poke at our own lives with a stick inevitably only to see it wobble lethargically in response. I think we can all agree we've each spent time sunk way down in the solitary confinement of the envy pit before, no matter how hard we've tried to fight it.

The Origins of the name 'Scarphelia'

I was 17 when I began to write her. The story had begun with a memory and ended in tragedy, but it seemed all my stories had to if they were ever to end. She was born out of the love of another. 

He was a gentle and humble soul, but never fragile. He once called me the most volatile person he'd ever known only after his own mother, and I could find neither a positive or negative reaction to give in retort, for in my embarrassment I didn't really know what it meant.

The Difference Between Following Your Dreams And Pursuing Them

It’s strange, to be able to recall one tiny snippet of the internet with such detail, but about a year ago, I saw a tweet by one of my favourite writers which broke my heart;

‘Bloggers encouraging us all to quit our day jobs and travel the world need to be stopped’

She didn’t know me, but in a case of ‘if the shoe fits…’ it was as good as a personally-directed slam. It stung both because I knew how much she’d dislike my writing, and also because I just could not understand why she’d ever be against what I regarded as positivity.