I don't believe this

I teared up a looking at the photos. My hair was short, my leg hair long.

The photographer managed to perfectly capture the essence of me.

My hair is longer now and I’ve started shaving my legs again. I don’t know why. I do know why.

I felt like it was time to try being pretty.

I teared up looking at the photos. I looked beautiful. I’m proud to be that girl.

I’m happy now. I probably only feel ugly because I’ve got some more pimples and I'm tired.

I am sick of talking about beauty. Maybe I’ll cut my hair again.

Today, I'm thinking about my regrets. I wish I wasn't, but I am.

Theda Bara Smiles

Where have I been?

I've been asking myself that for months now.

In November, I finally had the opportunity to perform my one woman play Theda Bara Smiles. I'd been working on it for a few years, it was my baby. When I first started writing I was absolutely terrified at the thought of actually performing it. I kept writing, and did all the things I knew I had to do to make it happen and as I went to sleep at night I'd imagine an audience full of my friends and family, watching and listening and then I wouldn't be able to sleep because the butterflies were too distracting. As I wrote the scenes I'd think to myself "am I actually going to perform this?"

It took so long to come to fruition that the play had become second nature to me. I felt no nerves, only excitement. The idea of sharing something I care about so deeply with everyone I love was incomprehensibly lovely.

The night itself was incredible. I'd never felt so proud of myself, of what I can do. The strangest part was after everyone had clapped and I had bowed and ran off stage to get changed. It was when I came back out to the audience to mingle. I was suddenly filled with that uncomfortableness, the fear, who should I go stand with? Who do I talk to? I was in such a rush I couldn't think of anything at all. I felt strangely empty. I skulled red wine to relax though it seemed to go right through me.

My family cried and hugged me, my little cousin stared at me as if I was a star. My friends, who a year ago I was too self conscious to speak to, had stood and clapped for whole minutes. I can't believe I really did that. They couldn't believe I really did that.

I often wonder if people loved the play so much just because it was so bold. What I did was so bold. I came home that night and lay in the bath for hours in silence. I wonder if that's what it feels like the day after you get married. Well that's done.

I'm putting the show on again in May. There will be four shows altogether. I can't wait to start rehearsals. I like myself a lot more when I'm working on something.

Home

A four foot high monster of pizza boxes and beer bottles,

Shadows the neglected lino floor.

A black gluten crusted plate sits under

A puddle of water in the sink.

The master bedroom remembers Monday is bin day,

She sleeps on the floor sometimes,

When it’s hot.

The Cone Castle is older than us. Combined.

The old library is an art student.

She apologises for others and nothing.

Milton Road accompanies the soundtrack

Of 60s soul and Brisbane garage pop.

The children’s room is littered with clothing.

A pink boot on the desk, women on the walls.

Strangers walk by, they sweat from the hill.

We sit on the steps, we wonder if they hear us.

passion

Love me. No, make me love you. I am only around you so that perhaps I may love you.  Whomever you may be. I am strong. I have friends, lots of them. What am I missing? I love myself, I do well. Should I exercise more, is that it? Passion. I miss it, I lack it, I need it.

1:05

I love all and trust none.

Fear everything and crave bravery.

They call me that. Brave.

I am. Very.

I will never know if I am the norm. I abandoned that drive a long time ago.

I desire comfort, and adventure.

I want romance without effort.

Sex without pain.

Myself, without others.

Others.