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My name is Finn and I am twenty years old.

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July 19th
8:51 am
Anonymous: do you have a personal blog at all?

no, I deleted it because it just encouraged me to waste time and overshare 

July 16th
50 notes
8:34 pm

July 16th
33 notes
3:58 pm

So, another email arrives from a literary magazine via Submittable and my heart sinks into my stomach as it has learned to do over the past couple of months. It can’t be anything other than a rejection. That’s just the way it is. I’ve recently decided my work is just too twee to have value anywhere outside tumblr, and I’m resigned to the fate of an accidental one-hit wonder. I lie down and comfort eat a bowl of crisps in record time. Eventually I reach for my phone to play Kim Kardashian: Hollywood; it’s all I’m good for. But that stupid red bubble on the mail icon is pestering me, because I know I’ll see it later, get excited about the prospect of an interesting message and then be reminded of my absolute failure as a human being. So I figure I have to open the email. Rip off the band-aid, as they say. 

"Thank you for sending us your poems…"

I feel bad for magazine editors. They’re obligated to thank people like me for wasting their time.

"We love them…"

But they’re not suitable for your magazine. I know, I’m sorry, I should have known.

"…and have accepted them for the next issue."

I rapidly shovel crisps into my mouth straight from the bag. This is a mistake, right? They’ve sent this to the wrong person. Yes, that’s right, someone must have written a poem with the same title as mine and I’ve been sent this due to a system malfunction. I re-read the email. I re-read it again. I go to Submittable and there it is, floating in a sea of peach-pink “declined” submissions, a green “accepted” label. 

I berate myself for even making a big deal of this - it’s a very small press, and it’s not as if I’m getting paid. I realise I have finished the crisps and open a bag of boiled sweets which I start grinding between my teeth. Instinctively, I open tumblr, and start writing this post. 

My cursor is hovering over “post” when my phone buzzes. It must be from them - it was a mistake after all, and this is the email saying they’re dreadfully sorry, but my poems are just too awful to publish, even by way of apology. 

Oh, wait, no! It’s just Kim Kardashian telling me my latest photoshoot is trending. 

July 15th
103 notes
9:02 am

July 15th
9:01 am
Anonymous: Let me first say that I admire your work. I find it brilliant, impeccably describing the intense emotion one feels. There was a poem that I read a few weeks ago that I thought was by you, and now it's all but disappeared from the internet. It starts out something like: "I wasn't lying when I said I could spend every moment with you forever, but I think it was a lie when you said it would be worth it for the sound of my laugh.." It's exactly what I need right now. Can you help me out?

I think I know the poem you mean. I’ll repost it just now. I hope it helps somewhat x

July 13th
4 notes
8:53 pm
Anonymous: You are so lovely

so are you!

July 13th
18 notes
7:50 pm

Someone said to me this week, “it’s a criminal shame for you to be afraid of talking to people”. Mm, that’s one to keep in a corner of my heart and save for a day when I’m running on empty.


I had a good week. I got a lot of writing done (6784 words) and I feel like I’m maybe-sorta getting somewhere with my novel. I’m trying to enjoy it whilst it lasts because I know soon enough I’ll be spending more time banging my head against the desk than actually getting words down on the page. My results for the year arrived and I guess I did pretty well; I got a first in 4 out of 6 modules yet I still find myself thinking I should have worked harder. Subconsciously I still feel the desperate need to be “perfect”, but gradually I am managing to risk, sometimes, being simply “okay”. I’m a lot better at defending myself from myself these days, anyway. All in all I am well! I am creating things and planning next summer already. Hope you’re all doing well too.

July 13th
12 notes
7:17 pm

seaside/lusting over dresses/keep me away from secondhand bookshops

July 12th
999 notes
12:39 pm

imaginarydances:

imaginarydances:

R. Murray Schafer’s Composer in the Classroom

Still getting reblogs

imaginarydances:

imaginarydances:

R. Murray Schafer’s Composer in the Classroom

Still getting reblogs

(via laquaintrellemaladroite)

July 10th
64 notes
8:40 pm

things I still feel

  • the way a voice cracks in the middle of a long sentence
  • how young your eyes look after you’ve been crying
  • the first day of rain following a week of plain sun
  • how sick you get of the rain when it just won’t let up and your socks are soaking and sticking to the bottom of your shoes
  • waking up two minutes before your alarm
  • slightly uneven eyeliner
  • the scent of hand soap in an unfamiliar bathroom
  • hearing your sister talk in her sleep 
  • making the tea just right 
  • dreams that stay with you the day after like long-lost memories
  • letters in code tucked in the back of a second-hand book
  • wildflowers through the cracks in the pavement 
  • the turning of pages the colour of condensed milk 
  • walking alone and still being someone

s.t.