My Future and Uncertainty

At this point in my blog, I think I am just writing for me. I don't actually remember the last time I posted on here (I checked - the 13th March... yikes) because I have basically abandoned it - after my GCSE's, I tried time and time again to write something that was relevant to my life and I was proud of, but I simply couldn't. I think it's safe to say that the part of my blog where I write scheduled and structured blog posts is officially over (though my blog and I had a good run!). 

But it's the structure and certainty of doing something like this that I'm really right now, in my life in general. Obviously, my exams are over, and I have to pick what I'm doing for the next two years of my life (teenagers must be in education or some form of work/apprenticeship until the age of 18 in Britain). The issue is: I have no clue. 

Everyone around me has some idea. I know for a fact that I'm going to a sixth form (that's the only thing I'm certain of!), and then almost certainly university to study writing, drama and film (I'm not sure what I'll prioritise by that point in my life). What's really getting to me is that my friends and everyone else my age seems to have a definite plan for the next two years - they know which sixth form they're going to, exactly what they have to do to get in there and what preparation they need to do (summer work is also concerning me). I, on the other hand, don't know which sixth form I'm going to. 

There are two sixth forms at the moment. Two perfectly lovely considerations for where to go. I know that if my grades aren't all I'd hoped them to be, then I definitely can't get into one of them, though I will most likely get into the other. This option will mean that I have no choice in the matter of which-one-do-I-actually-go-to-uuuugggh. If my grades are the same as the ones predicted on my UCAS account, then I will have to choose between the two sixth forms (obviously, this is the better option, because then the decision will be made by me rather than my grades). 

A large portion of my current struggle lies in the fact that I can't change the past, and that I don't know what my past accomplishments have amounted to. I'll look back at an exam and think "Oh my gosh, I could have done so much better!", and I can't turn back time and write whatever I wish I had written, or calm myself down enough to have figured out exactly what to write in the time limit. I also can't see how well I've done, so I can't assure myself that everything will be okay or make whatever preparations I need to make for my future. I have a load of summer work to do, and I don't even know where I'm going. 

I know that this whole blog post was a huge rant - I'm sorry (not that many people are likely to be reading due to the fact that there are cobwebs being spun around my blog right now, but I feel responsible still for the kind people who have taken the time to stick around)! I can't figure out whether I've missed blogging or not. Honestly, I just feel like I should be producing some form of content at the moment, because that's something I'm not doing as much. 

I haven't mentioned this on OpenLetters the blog yet, but I've started a poetry blog on WordPress (I'm a traitor, I know!). I've really been enjoying reading and writing poetry recently, so I thought it would be a fun idea. It's very different from anything I've done on here before - I've posted poems here, but there's a lot of other stuff on here that I would never include on there. I've got a few poems coming up soon, hopefully, so I would be incredibly grateful if you could take the time to check that out.

I think that's all I have to say, although this whole thing was more of a therapeutic experience than a planned and carefully written post, so thank you for reading!
Lucy x

Post-show crash

This time last week, I had just finished performing in my stage school's second and final performance of Grease. I had been ensemble that day, as we were double-cast, and I had played Rizzo the night before. I remember being ecstatic on both of the performance days, whilst still feeling as if the performances were surreal. We had been working on the show since September last year, and for it to be over and done with so quickly made me feel as if there had been so little closure. I felt as if there should have been a wind-down from it, so that we could gradually be reintroduced to the new world, but instead it felt as if I had been dropped suddenly. 

In the few weeks leading up to the performance, the rehearsal schedule had been intense - my friend discovered that, in the week of the performance, we would be there for a total of 36 hours(!!), or something insane like that. The weird thing was: I didn't care. I loved performing Grease, and I never got particularly tired of it - despite the few times backstage where I thought I might fall asleep (I didn't, luckily, though others weren't as fortunate). I didn't even mind too much that I was rehearsing all weekend most weeks, and the people there we so so lovely. Looking back, it's incredible that I ended up feeling that way, considering the fact that I very almost quit my group right before they announced the roles. Social anxiety was getting the better of me, and I felt completely isolated in the rehearsals. I knew the people around me were nice, yet I couldn't manage to speak to them, or if I did, then all conversation (rather ironically) felt very rehearsed in my head. It was never a matter of disliking the people around me - I knew they were lovely - the problem was me. 

You'd think it odd that I recognised this, yet still felt the way I did. I knew it was in my head, and that people probably didn't hate me at all, but the knowledge didn't help me. That was the thing. It was all in my head. 

Slowly, though, I began to cope with it. For many rehearsals, I tried my hardest to cling to the one friend I had made which, in hindsight, she probably found irritating! But after more weeks of rehearsal, and more scenes with more people around me, I got better at it. I was able to approach more people as I began working with them, and it felt more natural and less rehearsed. When I opened my mouth, I didn't feel as if I was scripting what I was saying - I just said what I was thinking. I began to realise that the people around me sensed this, and acted more naturally around me too. 

I honestly think my character helped me too. For those of you who haven't seen Grease, Rizzo is, confidence-wise, the polar opposite of me. She is impulsive and abrasive, covering all vulnerability as best she can in order to seem tough. She's not scared of people, whether she is flirting with boys or telling another girl what she thinks of her. Obviously, she forced me out of my comfort zone in just the way I needed. I didn't have time to let my own awkwardness force me away from a situation, I just went for it. Most of all, I loved her humour and sarcasm - in fact, those were probably the two things we had in common, and I found her the most fun of all the characters. I got to be aggressive and flirtatious and sassy and vulnerable. I don't know which I found more fun, though my highlight of the show was definitely singing There Are Worse Things I Could Do. 

Unlike in the movie, in the stage play, Rizzo sings the song to Sandy as a way of explaining herself. Sandy has finally found Rizzo's vulnerable side - something no one has ever done before - and Rizzo is angry. Quickly though, this anger turns into upset, as she finds herself exposed, and runs offstage at the end of the number before Sandy can see her cry ("But to cry in front of you... That's the worst thing I could do"). It's Rizzo's vulnerable side that made her the most fascinating and emotional of all the characters, as she proves that there are many layers to a person. I will miss all of Grease, even the parts that terrified me at first, but I love that song especially. I will miss that song. 

There are millions of other things I will miss, but I think that's why I feel as if I have been dropped since I stopped my constant cycle of rehearsing and performing. To be honest, I think that if I had been rehearsing for many more weekends I might have been driven insane, but I right now I miss it dearly! I've sort of crashed - I'm not sure what to do with myself, and it's been difficult adjusting to the real world again. Mock exams and revision and the normal school atmosphere just feel weird now, like I should be somewhere else. In a way, I think that working on Grease gave me a taster of what life will be like when I leave school - I was surrounded by people who were passionate about the same things as me, and I was treated as an equal by everyone. Many of the people there are older than me, as the group is for 15-18 year-olds, so it probably didn't feel as odd for them to return to the real world, but I think I'm in shock!

Today, I've tried to relax. Yesterday I was busy, and I haven't had much of a break this week in general as I am preparing for drama performances, so today I was simply wandering around the house in pyjamas. Straight after the show ended, I got a nasty cold and sore throat, so I'm trying to go get rid of that, too. I'm trying to be thankful for the convenient timing - as I no longer have to sing - but I'm not particularly amused all the same. 

Speak to you soon, 
Lucy x

Watercolour Boy | a poem

Everywhere you go, you leave the world awash with colour, 

Fairy-pink blossoms and velvet leaves on trees,

Warm amber streetlights that hum in teal night skies

as pavements glisten like silver. 

Your paintbrush delves into seas 

and turns their waters into ripples of

clear blues and perfect waves.

You see the world better than anyone, 

yet the world does not see you. 

You think that no one knows you exist. 

You think that one day, your paint will run dry, 

and there'll be no one there to notice that

no one paints the sky soft pinks and oranges 

in the morning, so that

the sun makes it come to life,

Or that birds' feathers no longer reflect

a kaleidoscope of royal blues and emerald greens

as the morning light hits them. 

But I will notice, Watercolour Boy, 

for you showed me your watercolour skies when

all I saw was black and white. 

♥

Two blog posts in two days, it's a miracle! I don't think I've been this active on my blog since 2014, to be honest. Either way, I'm going on holiday tomorrow, so I won't have anything for you in a while, but I will try to get some holiday footage, and I hope you enjoy this poem. The idea came to me when I was half asleep on the sofa, so at first it was quite nonsensical (as most of my original ideas are). I wasn't thinking about making it a poem exactly, I just thought that the words sounded really nice together. Watercolour Boy. 

Speak to you after my holiday, 

Lucy x

Don't Deserve You | short story

She stood before them; all the people she'd hurt and all the people she'd lost, all in an orderly line - almost as if she'd planned it. 

She felt them scan her - looking her up and down, some in disgust and some in grief. I did that, she thought to herself. But despite all the guilt that bubbled inside her with self-hatred at all their eyes on her, there was one gaze in particular that destroyed her most. Tore her apart from the inside until she yearned to never feel again. His eyes were full of misery and contempt, but it was more than that. Like before, he stared at her as if he could see inside her brain enough to peer at the jumbled mess of thoughts that not even she understood, capable of picking apart and analysing them. Though it was different this time. His understanding of her brought another emotion to his face: disappointment. 

She couldn't bear it - that look. Like he'd expected more of her. Like she'd failed him... Maybe she had. 

She couldn't think about it now, though. She had to get on with it, before they turned their attention away and excluded her all over again. She cleared her throat, yet her voice still sounded hoarse, as if she hadn't spoken in days.

"I just- I guess- I wanted to say sorry", she stammered, fumbling over her words. "But it's more than that, because I don't expect you to forgive me. I couldn't ask you to forgive me, in your position. I've fucked up, really". She felt all their eyes pressing into her now - exposing her for who she really was - and she hated it. All the same, she carried on before her carefully thought-out words left her. "I guess I just wanted to let you know that I do try to be better. I am a fuck-up, I know, but I tried to be better... for you". She turned around, directing those last two words at him. There was a change in his expression, but she turned away before she managed to distract herself. "I don't think it's an excuse though, really. I- I just-". Before she could stop herself, her voice caught on the end of her sentence, and she felt tears threaten to fall. "I wanted you to know that I love you, all of you. And I'm sorry you had a friend as shitty as me, because you don't deserve it, and... I don't deserve you". 

It was too late. She felt a sob tear through her throat, and she clapped a hand over her mouth. She couldn't remember the last time she had cried in front of another person. Was this what it was like to feel vulnerable?

Feeling completely naked, she turned and ran through the trees, leaping over the roots and nettles, unsure of where she was going and why she was headed there. For a split second, she thought she heard the sound of footsteps pounding behind her, but she refused to stop, charging through the forest as fast as her legs could carry her. Faster and faster.

Away from them. 
Away from him.
Away from herself.

-

Thud.

Suddenly, she felt herself go flying through the air, a tight grip around her waist. She landed hard on her side, though her captor hit the ground first, softening most of the blow. Still, her shin slammed into a tree root, and she momentarily shrieked in pain and shock.

"Sorry, sorry..." he murmured over and over, as he picked himself up off the ground and examined her torn, mud-stained jeans. "You wouldn't stop, you idiot, and I just-". But he didn't get to finish his sentence, because she threw her arms around him, crushing him in the kind of hug where neither of you can breathe, yet neither want to let go. She hadn't noticed, but she was still crying, and now she cried into his shoulder until she could cry no more, arms and legs intertwined. 

"I'm sorry, too". 

♥

This is just a short(ish) story I wrote the other night after an evening of watching Skins (which seems to be happening a lot lately!). I'm sorry I haven't been very productive with my blog and channel recently - I have plans for my content, it's just that I've been quite ill over the last two weeks, so it's been hard to get anything done. I'm just hoping I can get better for my holiday soon (that would be great)!

Speak to you soon, 

Lucy x

The Simple Things

This is the YouTube video I will never make. 

When I make videos about serious subjects, I want my audience to be able to take something away from it - a point, a message, a piece of advice they can apply to their own lives, or maybe just something that brightens up their day (hopefully). I don't solely focus on my own problems because I don't think there's much people can actually take away from that - it's not really helpful to anyone and, let's face it, few people would find it very interesting or engaging. 

My YouTube channel is where everything goes public. People I know watch my videos - friends, people from school and, occasionally, family members. Talking about an issue of my own would make me feel completely exposed. Once something is out on my channel publicly, people can take what they want from it - love it or hate it. Although I don't tend to care what people think of me (as caring about such things would limit my life is more ways than I care to think about), there are just some things that you just don't share about your personal life. 

They say that, on your YouTube channel, you share the best part of your personality; the best part of who you are; and for me, that's my strong opinions, my creativity, and my ability to offer people advice and different ways of looking at life. I share my advice because I've gone through something difficult, or have watched a person/people I know go through the same thing, and have come out stronger from the experience, and confident that my view can help others. 

But what happens when it's me who's struggling?

As some of you may have noticed, I've not been great at producing content recently. Actually, it's been completely impossible. Yes, I've not really posted/uploaded anything so far in 2016, but it's more than that. For a very long time, I lost my motivation to write - not just on my blog, but in general - and content making was an extremely slow. And, as I will be attempting to explain through this blog post, it may continue to be on-and-off. 

I have wanted mental health to be a part of my blog from the very beginning. The second blog post I ever wrote was entitled "Dealing with friends and depression", and it was on this blog that I discovered and opened up about my social anxiety. When I started my blog as fourteen-year-old Fetus-Lucy, I had come out of a bad place and situation that had hung over me like a heavy fog for the past three months, and I wanted to open up in the hope that I could somehow help others. 

I want you to know that I'm struggling with my mental health right now. I don't know how else to explain it, because it's not a specific thing that's been getting to me, it's everything at once. The simplest of things have been too much, recently, and there will be days where I can't function as efficiently as I would like. On these days, I would rather focus on my health than my content because that's what's right for me, regardless of how long I have abandoned my blog for or my uploading schedule. I have a piece of paper blue-tacked to the wall next to my bed of Things I Want to Do - not necessarily self-care things, but just things that will motivate me to do something and function as a person for the day.

My favourite thing right now is photography (as you will know if you follow my instagram, as I've spammed people a bit), no matter how ameteur it is. I don't even have to leave the house to find something I like - sometimes it's as simple as finding an angle or perspective I think is interesting. 

One of my favourite things is our kitchen light.

(hey, I know I'm not a professional, but it's something I enjoy)

I'm hoping that it can inspire me to go out and do things, too. Although taking funny-angled pictures of our sort-of chandelier can be cool, I want to be motivated to explore. Lying down on the kitchen table looking slightly insane isn't the same as a good day out. 

It's very easy to take nice photos of our dog, even when his nose is covered in chalk!

I think that's all I have to say on the matter, right now. I'm not really sure where things are going from here, because each day seems to carry a lot of uncertainty. I just really wanted to be honest with you, because I feel like my blog is more about me than any creative projects, messages, deep pieces of advice or How Much I Hate Donald Trump (which is just my channel at the moment). I hope you understand that. 

Lucy x

New Year's Resolutions: Rewind

This isn't going to be a blog post where I set myself New Year's Resolutions, but instead I would like to look back at the resolution I set myself last year. I feel like, although we are hopeful in January that we will manage to transform our lives for the better throughout the course of the year ahead, we never really stop at any point to see whether we have actually seen our goals through. 

To see this year's resolutions, you can watch my YouTube video here:

Now is the time to put my resolution skills to the test. About this time last year, I wrote a blog post setting myself one goal for 2015: to ease myself into situations that I may not feel completely comfortable in. 

Honestly, I feel like I have a long way to go with this one, though I am proud of the progress I have made. One of the main focuses for this one is the fact that I would be attending quite a few concerts in 2015. This time last year, the idea of going to concerts was incredibly daunting. Although I love music as well as music artists (in 2015, I saw Taylor Swift and 5SOS), concerts have not been my kind of scene. They include many people and enclosed spaces - a nerve-wracking combination. 

I did struggle with concerts during 2015, a bit. Towards the end of the year, I attended one concert that was a little too crowded and suffocating, and I ended up being harassed by a drunk man twice my age (it was as fun as it sounds). In the end, I had to leave to narrowly avoid having a panic attack. Despite the humiliation and discomfort of the scary experience, I learned from it. In future, I will know that, if I feel at all uncomfortable or close to a panic attack in another situation like this, to leave instead of hanging round to see if it gets better, as I did at the time. I will know who to trust (and by that I mean a little more than questioning the company of 30ish-year-old men), and who will not be helpful in this scenario. There will be some people who will be conscious of my well-being and there will be some who are caught up in the moment and atmosphere. 

Also, note to self: bouncers are not authority figures, and they will not help if things start to go wrong (unless violence is involved, in which case, it is within their job description).

Although this experience was horrible at the time, I now know what and what not to do to ensure that the same thing does not occur again. The rest of my concert experiences in 2015 have been incredible - Taylor Swift put on an amazing show, as usual (she even brought Cara Delevigne!!!), and my friends and I were so hyped at the end of the 5SOS Birmingham concert that I wasn't sure I would ever get to sleep! I have been given a bit of an education on concerts, an although it was terrifying at times, I enjoyed it overall. Now I can look forward to my 2016 concerts (bring on the Sounds Good Feels Good tour!). 

Other than that, early-2015 me wanted me to speak my mind in 2015, and I can definitely say that I did that! I am now more accustomed to standing up for myself in situations where I feel that someone is wrong and/or offensive. I have developed more mature opinions and become a more open-minded person. Early-2015 me spoke about one incident in which I spoke my mind, and I have not stopped since. Inevitably, a lot of the time it still does make me anxious. I can leave discussions shaking and in need of fresh-air and some space, though I do not regret voicing my thoughts. I'd rather feel anxious about having said the thing than hating myself for not saying it later on.

I hope you achieved your 2015 resolutions and wish you the best of luck for your 2016 ones!

Best wishes,

Lucy x

Latest videos:

50 Facts About Me! #2

Self-expression

Adoption: My Thoughts

No Longer a Grey Sky (soulmate AU)

My blogging friend, Eve (Pen&Key) recently wrote a tumblr-inspired soulmate AU in which the whole world is black and white until you meet your soulmate, and I love these so much that I decided to write my own! It's very long (over 2000 words long, to be specific), so I hope you don't mind that, but I enjoyed writing it ^.^

♥

There was what my sister would describe as a “grey sky” looming over me that morning as I left my apartment. I supposed Lauren would know what that looked like, having met her soulmate at the tender age of seven (!!) - a boy named Alex. Nine years later, and they were still inseparable. Some of us are just lucky, I guess. I wouldn’t know what a grey sky looked like – everything seemed grey to me. Every sky, tree, house, face, dress and street remained the same colour in my eyes, wherever I went.

I was wearing my black skinny jeans paired with my navy blue duffel coat. Lauren was always telling me that I should dress in brighter colours, but I didn’t see the point. It was hardly as if I was going to appreciate them. I was more worried at the idea of my soulmate than the absence of colour in my life, or even the question all the girls my age seemed to be asking: Will I ever find The One? Sometimes I wondered whether I really wanted to meet my soulmate. What if he was a creep, or rude, or an idiot? What if fate messed up and I ended up hating him? I didn’t think I could have coped.

Either way, I knew that some people could go their entire lives without meeting their soulmates – my mum being one of them. Neither mine nor Lauren’s dad had been her soulmate, and although I knew she tried her best to hide her hurt, I could always tell how it really made her feel. I saw the look on her face when Lauren tried to show her a painting she’d made in school and she couldn’t tell whether it was of a blue bird or a robin, and the flash of pain in her eyes every bonfire night as people gazed in awe at the explosions of colour in the sky. The absence of colour served as a constant reminder of her loneliness. As a child, every time I saw that look on her face, I swore to myself that I would never let myself become consumed by the search for my soulmate. Not just because he could have been anywhere in the world, dead, or in the arms of another, but because I did not ever want to end up like my mother, awash with the dim grey of despair that had been her life for forty-eight years.

I had to be the only eighteen-year-old in the country who hadn’t signed up to at least one soulmate meeting agency. There were hundreds out there, advertisements for them bombarding TVs and billboards. Hundreds of thousands of desperate people of all ages, waiting for the flash of colour that awaited them upon first laying eyes on The One. They said that when you met them, it was like two halves of a person coming together to make a whole, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle connecting. I personally hated the thought. Who did they think they were, telling me that I was just one half of a whole, like I wasn’t a complete human being? If that was what having a soulmate felt like – being half a person – I was perfectly happy the way I was.

I was on my way to the park that day, hoping for some inspiration for my artwork. I’m not going to lie – it’s difficult being an artist when the only colour you know is grey. It was getting increasingly difficult to become an artist at this time, as more and more people began to discover colour - partly due to the modern dating agencies, but I didn’t care. I used coloured pencils in my work, using them according to the colour I thought the thing might be – I knew trees were supposed to be green, as well as grass, and the sun was supposed to be yellow, and my pencils had colour labels on them so that I could tell them apart. Other than that, I experimented. People like me were criticised often by the art community, and it was difficult to become successful.

“How can you use colours in your work when you have such a poor understanding of colour itself?”

“Find your soulmate, and come back again when you can actually see colour”.

Their words rang through my ears. 

As I walked through the park, I passed mothers pushing their children on swings and families having picnics on the grass. One mother had a wide book spread across her lap with her little girl peering over her shoulder.

“And what happened next, Mummy?” she squealed between mouthfuls of jam sandwich.

Turning the page, her mother replied, “The kiss awakening her from her hundred year sleep, she was met with a burst of colour as she laid eyes upon the handsome prince, and she knew that they were meant to be together. And they lived happily ever after!”

I kept walking past the playground to the quiet spot of the park where I usually sat when I needed peace and quiet. Living in an apartment, my neighbours were often too noisy for me to concentrate, and there wasn’t another place like this in the whole city. I sat on the wooden bench, half concealed by the canopy of leaves above my head – convenient for if it started to rain – and began to unpack my notebook and pencils. To my right, I had a view of the stream that ran all the way through the park and to several others across the city, the clear water rolling over the stones and under the bridge. Not many people came here, as there was nothing for the children to play on, but to me, the stream, bridge and still nature made it perfect. I spotted a birds nest perched on a tree branch just above the stream, and began to sketch.

I don’t know how long I had been drawing for when I first heard a splashing sound coming from down the stream, as if something was ploughing through it. It had begun to rain, yet still I remained dry beneath the layer of leaves above my head. The splashing was followed by the sound of barking, and later on by shouts. This was the first time I had ever been disturbed in my spot, and I was surprised someone had stumbled across it, even if it was just a dog.

“Wait!” I heard the voice behind it shout, a man’s voice, but he was too late. Before I was aware of what was happening, a white and grey husky burst through the canopy, its fur weighed down by a mixture of rain and stream water. I couldn’t help but laugh at the sopping wet creature bounding towards me, its now flat tail wagging at a thousand miles a minute.

“Hey!” I exclaimed, holding my hand out to pet the over-excited creature, though it had other ideas. I shrieked as the creature about half my size climbed onto my lap as though it were a puppy, soaking my dry jeans and duffel coat as it licked my face.

“Rose! Where are you, you stupid dog?” he man’s voice shouted, though the “stupid” part sounded more endearing than angry. I saw his Converse pacing around through the leaves of the canopy, a dog lead trailing behind him in the damp grass.

“She’s in here!” I shouted back, laughing.

“Thank you”, I heard him reply as his Converse approached the canopy “I’m sorry for troubling you, she gets like this sometimes…” His voice trailed off as his gaze found mine, and the colours around me came to life.

It’s difficult to describe colours without using the words “red”, “green”, “purple”, etc. It’s like there was a whole world I had been missing. We both stared at each other in awe. His face was pale, but it wasn’t white. There were many different colours mixed in – colours I didn’t have the words to describe yet. It made his cheeks warm despite the freezing weather and rain, and his hair was the colour I imagined the sun to be – burning and glowing. Was this what blond hair looked like? His coat was the same colour as the grass beneath his feet and his trousers were a bright colour, much more vivid than mine… I guessed it right be red. I looked down at my own clothes. So this was what navy blue looked like – dark, as it had been before, but there was more to it than that, other things mixed in.

“Please tell me I’m not the only one seeing this” he muttered, and I choked out shocked laughter.

“No, you’re not”. I looked down at Rose and noticed the colour of her eyes – an icy blue, startling and bright, very unlike the blue of my coat. She grinned at me, tongue hanging out, and it’s like I could hear her speaking to me.

You’re welcome, she said, before jumping off my lap to reunite with her owner. I stood up and walked towards the man, who I now saw was about my age.

When we were face-to-face, I said “Your eyes… they’re green. Dark green, like the leaves”.

“Yours are brown, I think, a bit like the bark of the trees - but they’ve got loads of different colours in them too. It’s not just brown, it’s… I- I don’t think I have the words”, he laughed nervously. With a start, I remembered something, picking up the notebook from the ground, where it landed after Rose knocked it out of my hands. His eyes widened.

“Oh God, I’m really sorry about that. She thinks she’s tiny”.

“It’s fine, it doesn’t matter now”, I said, waving his concerns away. I looked at my picture now and realised how wrong I’d been. “It’s just that – look – I drew the bark the same colour as the leaves. I couldn’t tell the difference”, I said with a laugh.

“Still, you’re really good at drawing!” he told me before reaching down to pick up my box full of pencils, which I had thankfully shut before Rose jumped on me. He opened them and stared for a second, reading the colour annotations.

“…So that’s what orange looks like”, he remarked as if it was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen.

“That's... awesome”. I said, a smile spreading across my face as I looked through the rainbow of colours lying in the box.

As we waited for the rain to stop, we learned a bit about each other. He introduced himself as Aaron and told me that he was in town to visit his brother, who moved here last year, though he brought Rose along too, as everyone he knew was scared to look after her on their own. I laughed at that. I told him my name was Amelia and explained that my sister had found her soulmate at just seven years old, so I felt as if the pressure was on. I even told him about how I felt about how cynical I felt about the idea of The One, and for once, wasn’t looked at like I was crazy. 

When I thought about the idea of two halves coming together to become one person, I did not feel at all like one half of a whole. When he looked at me, I could not have felt any more complete – like I was the most whole person he had ever seen.

For the next hour or so, we wandered the park side by side with the box of pencils, pointing out things like the colours of playing equipment and people’s clothes, matching them to their colours; a man in a bright orange rain coat, a little boy in yellow wellies. We stopped one girl and complimented her on her blue hair, and she was so taken-aback she blurted out “My boyfriend’s hair is green!”

It was dark by the time we had finished wandering the entire park, and I felt like I had seen every colour in the world - though I knew that as long as we were together, there was an infinite amount of them out there, just waiting to be discovered. He had opened my eyes for the first time in my life, and I knew I was never going back to black and white. 

♥

I don't personally agree with the idea of soulmates, fate and the whole "everything happens for a reason" thing, but I find the idea of soulmates entertaining, and I hope you enjoyed this blog post. 

Speak to you soon, 

Lucy x