written a while ago

I usually finish cleaning my room before I begin a new task.
I hate stopping mid-way through.
particularly to write a blog.
but today, with my ‘acoustic mix’ filling my room with love,
and my mind completely full,
I am going to leave some of my possessions scattered around my room for a bit longer.
This is what I see:
I see two boxes unpacked.
One contains over thirteen old cameras, which will soon be assorted into places around my room.
the second, a box of things to hang on my walls.
on my floor, a wet towel from the shower I had to clear my mind.
my oaktree clipboard, tossed after school on Friday when I was in a rush to meet with ruby.
my perfume, out of its usual spot.
my journal, with only 18 blank pages left.
my film camera, ridded of it’s most recent roll yesterday. I tend to love my camera for how easily it understands the things I photograph.
my rugged bag that usually contains my books, accessorized by some human rights badges on the front.
one photograph of my favourite beach in bridport
and a bag full of things I kept from last night.
last night.
a collection of the people who hold inside of them some of the most beautiful memories I’ve ever had.
some of the most beautiful connections I’ve ever had.
when I first decided to hold a celebration, I wanted it to be about the people who I loved, as opposed to slamming down shots  and drunkenly celebrating 18 years of my life.
I wanted to be about the people who have given me those 18 years.
i can’t say I can a best speech.
there was no best present either.
because there were no best people.
bek… you would say she’s the two boxes wouldn’t you? (no sexual pun intended). she waits for me patiently. Ready to be unpacked. I note the beautiful things as I hurry off to the next thing I have to do, but I know that to truly appreciate the beautiful things, I must wait.
em… one look at her gorgeous appearance and you feel automatically special. Perfume. You spray her humor and ‘coolness’ into your heart, and you feel sweeter for it.
serena… you pour the little ounces of light you have, into her lense, and know that she remembers even the tiniest detail. It doesn’t matter if you fuck a few photos up along the way, the whole beauty is the surprise of seeing the roll when it’s finished, pausing, and starting again.
mel… my journal. You can dispense out poetry, thoughts, indecisiveness, funny memories and complete vulnerability into her and she will never judge. She will seek the beauty in you, because she seeks to understand you.
ruby… the bag I sling over my shoulder, evidently resulting in it sitting calmly at my side. Holding everything together. The bits and pieces… the books. Knowing me before I know myself.
and mikaela… the photo of my favourite beach, taped to the side of my desk that is nearest to my head. The first thing I see when I wake up. The one who takes me home.

there may have been no best speech,
or best present.
but there was definitely a part of last night that I will remember forever.
it wasn’t  all the nice things people said about me,
or getting nice things, or getting money.
it wasn’t the food (although my mum is incredible).
it was the times that people would come to me and tell me how beautiful all of my friends are.
whether they jump up to kick off the night with an impromptu speech,
send the entire room into hysterics,
compile photos and videos into a disk of memories,
write an extensive essay/letter that brings you to tears,
share a prayer book with you,
stagger in on crutches and impersonate ernie from ‘bert and ernie’,
give you endless cuddles,
roar with laughter at the simplest of humour,
sing beautiful songs,
discuss star-signs,
or almost knock you out when they forcefully smear cake onto your face,
they are all so fucking beautiful.
it is said that we should count our blessings.
some don’t know where to start counting.
i know exactly where my blessings start.
in the hearts of all the people I love.
and I thank God,
 for the miracles they grant me every single day.


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