Tuesday, 31 January 2012






White Blank Page

There is an old, run down train station that people walk past every day; ignoring its desolate and downtrodden appearance. But on one of these overgrown walls there is a simple piece of graffiti art that reads ‘Love meant that you care for another person’s happiness more than your own, no matter how painful the choices you face might be.’


To understand such a saying, one must experience those three daunting, exciting and tragic words. That moment when the person you are with says ‘I love you’. The three words that any person wants someone to say were simultaneously the best truth you could ever hear, and the worst lie you could ever hear... I love you...


Love is an envelope of every emotion under the sun. It is as tragic as it is beautiful; and when it fades all those emotions disappear, a giant pit of worthlessness, a gulf that has encased your entire being. Every single moment, memory, feeling, flashes before your eyes until you are left in a heap of emptiness. This love I speak of is not the fairytale romance, or the’ live happily ever after’ type ending, this is the heartbreaking, devastatingly beautiful love that is left behind when that one person doesn’t love you anymore.


One of the hardest parts of realising a person does not love you anymore is knowing that you tried so hard to be the best you could be and they still didn’t notice. That or they didn’t care. Standing there, left behind not knowing which scenario was worse...
And as I walk past this old, loveless train station I remember that infatuation is feeling like you have found the perfect person. Love is realising that, that person is not perfect, but that you don’t care. If this one person who you loved so dearly could not accept your imperfections, there will always be another who will. As they say, to love and be loved in return







Monday, 9 January 2012

What is considered beautiful?

Is it that jaw droppingly, gorgeous woman you just walked past on the street? Is it the sound of children laughing, a flower in bloom, your friend, your sister, your mother? What is beautiful?

 I ponder this question nearly every day as I look in the mirror, cataloguing my weaknesses, mistakes and flaws. Am I beautiful? Are you beautiful? Who has the right to define my beauty or yours? From an early age I have heard people say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. However, as each days passes, and I question this statement more and more, I wonder how many of us actually believe it.  


So as I stand there looking at my flaws and imperfections, I remember the wise words of Sophia Loren who once said “beauty is how you feel inside, and it reflects in your eyes. It is not something physical”.
So I turn away from the mirror, tell myself I am beautiful and walk away; because in the end that’s all that matters...