STT – Picton.

Roughly 6 months before I ran away to Tasmania when I was 17, I became close friends with a goth couple, Ashe and Jay; who were slightly older than me, thus making them super grown ups in my eyes. I idolised them, absolutely smitten with the idea that the  older goth kids wanted to hang out with me.
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Completely.

IMG_3955Hey babe,

At some point in my life, I grew scared of the words I had to say.
My words had been stolen from me by someone who gave the intention behind them to a passing infatuation.
Many years later, my words were then exhausted by another who could never have enough, although the reality was, they had became band-aids to cover the bullet holes he commanded the trigger from. And surely if the biggest gift I had to give became exhausted, I was rendered useless.
My love letters were only ever meant for the intended recipient, regardless of their own opinion on such matter; not to be sold, or lent or as plagiarism disguised as true emotion.

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STT – The Greatest Date

When I was 27, I broke my hip. I was recently broken up with a boyfriend in a hideous situation, and staying at my best friend’s house on his couch for a few days, trying to get my mind off everything and keeping my spirits up. I loved sleeping on his couch because it was super longu, and I am super short. In reality; this would be a regular sized person couch that I happened to be able to stretch out on and not touch the ends. I even named it Old Red.

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STT – The Lift

Alex and I have been best friends since Year 5, when I changed schools from Bourke Street to Rozelle. I was having a hard time adjusting as a 10 year old, and from a very hazy memory, Alex found me under a desk at school crying.
He comforted me and we’ve been friends ever since.
There’s something both beautiful and terrifying about knowing someone for 21 years. They know you better than you know yourself. I owe a lot to Alex in my life, he’s never been an enabler to any of my addictive behaviours, and hasn’t been afraid to tell me when to pull my head in.
Everyone should have an Alex.

Without further gushing on one of my favourite people in the entire world, let’s get on with the show.

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Bonus STT – Give Me Head

I’m gonna do something a little different this week, and instead of telling a continuous story, mash together a few little incidents with a common theme.
It’s mash up. A pie and mash up.

Earlier this week I was engaging in a Facebook comment thread where I admitted I actually have some trouble recognising people if they don’t have strong identifying physical characteristics. It’s caused me some embarrassing moments, as I’ve introduced myself to people I’ve had deep and meaningful conversations with, or I’ll have no clue who someone is because they didn’t have their usual hat on, or are wearing contacts instead of their glasses.
I decided to look up what sort of thing could cause this and had a resounding amount of answers that concluded this was usually caused by sustaining head injuries.

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STT – The Mansion Party

I try to avoid writing a lot about my abusive ex partner; but there are certain stories that are going to call for it. Those seven years of my life caused a lot of misery, but resulted in a lot of circumstances I never thought I’d find myself in.
As usual, most names have been changed.

The Mansion Party story begins on a Sunday night back in 2013 watching Dr Who at my best friend Alex’s. It was a rare occasion, as usually Jay would not let me out to see anyone close to me. I was on edge the entire time, checking my Facebook messages and texts to make sure he hadn’t blown a gasket over nothing and it would somehow be my fault. He was on shift at the tattoo shop that night whilst I wasn’t rostered on; and he wanted me to come pick him up after Dr Who so we could ride our scooters home together.

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STT – Best Served Coldly

The trouble with this week’s story is that it absolutely loses the anonymity I’ve been hiding behind this entire time, which is part of the charm of the tale. I’m going to try and be as impartial and fair as I can in the telling, as I still have strong feelings towards the people involved. As sporadically usual, all names have been changed.
That said, this is a doozy.

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Wildflower.

14469440_10153893380392727_7547568555879787289_nA part of me has always felt I’ve needed an element of sadness to write. At some point in my life it became my biggest motivator; the driving force to tell my stories and channel those places inside myself where the curtains are always drawn. The metaphorical throwing open of those drapes appeals to my self destructive side, a tangible Pandora’s box of memories that makes me feel a little outside myself.
And sometimes even a little bit beautiful.

Life has a way of balancing out the negative, and I’ve found solace in patience and stepping outside my comfort zone. The past year has been the biggest lesson in dealing with change, and letting myself ride the new set of reality that has presented itself to me. I’m more compassionate, more grateful and more in love than I have ever have been.
I can owe that to a large amount of self analysing and being afraid – truly afraid – but doing it all anyway. One of the biggest lessons I ever learned was coming to terms with the fact that risk, whatever the outcome, will always eventuate in the greatest stories.

I always believed there would be that element of sadness to me.
I don’t anymore.
And there’s still so many more stories yet to come.

 

STT – Lloyd & Clyde

Jeb has been a constant source of support this week whilst I haven’t been in a great mental state. I don’t know how I’m going to ever thank him properly for everything he does for me; but a small part of showing my appreciation is within these words.
This week I’m going to tell the story of how he and I got together, as it will always be one of my absolute favourite stories.
This one’s for you, babe. Thank you for everything.

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