The Ambulance

I don’t think you realise what you regret until something happens – something comes along and makes you realise what has happened. I’m sitting here, absolutely wanting to be out of my mind right now. I can’t sit still and I can’t concentrate. I have an essay due tomorrow but I can’t do it. Not right now. It’s so much to think about. I’ve never seen an ambulance up close until tonight. That was something I could have lived without for a while longer. Hearing their doors open in the driveway. The seemingly normal living room, knowing what’s coming. Like foreboding. Seinfeld on the TV as if it’s nothing more than any other Wednesday night. But we all knew what was coming, who was coming. As Mum got up to open the door we all stare straight at the TV but no one’s watching it, no one cares. They walked in, green uniforms, big briefcase type bags full of things that I’m sure are magically medical. Their badges like reassurance. That everything would be okay but the grimness hangs in the air and no one really knows what to do. He sits on the couch as if he’s normal, as if nothing’s wrong. I told him before, “you can tell me nothing’s wrong when you can explain to me why you lost ‘a couple’ of hours out of your day today”. He’s stubborn, he sticks to what he knows. But that’s not what he needs right now. We all know he’ll be angry about it later but right now, we all need to know. They question him and the second man in the green uniform turns to me as I sit away from everything that’s happening, in my corner, hiding from the situation behind my laptop. He gives me a thumbs up and noticing my grim expression, he tells me to cheer up. I’ll cheer up when things are back to normal. When the night is normal. When he’s yelling at me for being a disgruntled teenager and I’m yelling at him about being an old drunkard. That’s when I’ll cheer up. They told him it wasn’t normal. We all told him it wasn’t normal. He knew, he didn’t want to admit it but he knew. They took him, the uniforms took him in the green ambulance. They told us to come – not to rush, but to come. We watched as he buckled himself in, alone. He was all alone and I hate that we didn’t go with him. He hates hospitals. He’s terrified. He’d never admit it but I know he’s terrified. It’s the exact stubbornness I’d have. You can’t show fear, fear is weakness. Emotion is weakness. But he hates them and yet he went. We all know something’s not normal. But for now we have nothing to do but wait and it’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. But most of all I wish I’d hugged him before he got into the ambulance. Or told him it’d be okay, because even though it will, it would’ve meant a lot. I know it will. It has to be. He’s always the strong one but now we have to be strong. We have to wait. 


If Only..

So, I think I’ve found my calling. After spending the past three days holed up in my room writing essays and watching Cake Boss, I have decided that once again, my life calling is to be a cake decorator. There is something about making something beautiful for another person, that they can be as proud of as I am that makes it the ultimately appealing occupation. That, and the fact that you get to eat all of the delicious food you make. There’s something appealing about the fondant and butter cream that really pulls me in. Making edible, realistic looking objects and making people feel ultimately good about an occasion is just such a pleasing thing. And I mean, who wouldn’t want to be a part of something so beautiful. 


(I apologise for the shoddy-quality image, I do have the DVD however it has become apparent to me that you cannot screenshot a DVD on a mac and therefore I had to use YouTube)

But seriously, look at that beautiful botanically-correct cake. Every single one of those flowers was made by hand and painted to be perfect. You can see the effort that went into the cake and the small details, just ugh. This is food porn at its finest people. 


I understand of course that I’d have to start at the bottom, possibly at one of those teeny weeny cupcake stalls that have appeared in many shopping centres as of late.. But eventually, I’d get there. Ultimate goal – of course – to work in Carlo’s Bakery in Hoboken. (This of course is a good joke as I’ve never even considered leaving Perth, but if they were to bring one here, I’d totally go for it) But I could totally stick it out, I could be brilliant.. If only I could use a piping bag. 

Tell The People You Love That You Love Them

one of the most perfect and true things i’ve ever read. i never want to be that person that doesn’t get to do the things she wanted to do and yet i always find myself trying to be ahead in relationships or trying to act cool or be that perfect person and one day none of it will matter, just like in a couple of months when i’m in uni, my atar won’t matter, once you’re there no one cares, you got there, you achieved and yet i still find myself being disappointed about results. it’s all so useless in the end.

Thought Catalog

I love being horribly straightforward. I love sending reckless text messages (because how reckless can a form of digitized communication be?) and telling people I love them and telling people they are absolutely magical humans and I cannot believe they really exist. I love saying, “Kiss me harder,” and “You’re a good person,” and, “You brighten my day.” I live my life as straight-forward as possible.

Because one day, I might get hit by a bus.

I could be walking down the street one day, blasting Rihanna or Fleetwood Mac, jamming so hard that I don’t see the bus coming. I could be walking with a book in my hand, reading until the very end. I could be paying total and complete attention, imagine the impact before it arrives.

And I’d really, really rather not die with some confusing statement I said sitting in the phone or the thoughts or…

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Since I finished my last exam on the 14th of November, there have been six and a half weeks. 48 days. Within these six and a half weeks (48 days) I’ve spent one week (7 days) on leavers, 2 (non-consecutive) weeks with gastro (12 days), 10 days at work, 6 days being just generally sick – over-heating in the hot Aussie sun, 7 days in collie and maybe one or two days seeing friends. This means I’ve had probably 4 days where I’ve done absolutely nothing at all however I’m fairly disappointed in my body over the large amounts of sick time I’ve had. I feel like I’m wasting so much time, so many events I’ve had to bail on and so many people I haven’t gotten to see all because I’ve been sick. As glad as I am that I didn’t get sick during exams (Even though I did have bronchitis and like stress colds, I certainly didn’t have gastro, thank god) I still feel like it sucks that I pretty much spent the last month of 2013 sick and unable to do anything. I’d finally think I’m all better and it’d come back to bite me. When I got sick at the Beaufort Street festival I was at the ambulance and they checked my blood sugar levels and everything and they thought I was diabetic. Now I know that I am not the healthiest person however for me, this was a massive wake up call. I was so scared for myself and my health. I from then on decided I had to start drinking water. I really just want to be better and if the only way to do so is be healthier then that’s what I’m going to do. I’m not going to let this be one of those New Years Resolutions that I make and never follow through on. This resolution has a past and a future, I’d prefer to live past 50 and at the rate I’m going apparently that is something to strive for. So I’m going to strive for it. I’ve given up trying to give up chocolate but I sure as hell can make sure all my meals in between are healthier and making sure I actually exercise regularly as opposed to my “whenever-there’s-no-one-home” regime I going at the moment. So my new years resolution is to live another year. I already have this feeling that this year will be a whole shit ton better and I can’t wait to get started. So here’s to getting over this ridiculous sickness and to moving on with things. 


Okay so, I’m going away to Collie for the next week and it’s over like New Years and whatnot and it’s not like this is a dedicated blog but I want to post my (so far) New Years Resolutions somewhere because I feel as though if they exist somewhere I’m more inclined to stick to it. This year is like completely new like I don’t know what to do with myself but hopefully it’s a good one. Anyway so far I’ve got zilch money and owe quite a bit to parents and whatnot. So at the moment I’m thinking:

1) I want to work more, proper hours

2) I want to go to uni and actually do well

3) I want to stop dressing to impress and just do whatever the fuck I want

I feel like now that high school’s over I can stop feeling like I need to justify my choices and I can like what I want, be who I want, none of that expectation bs. Now it’s time to do what I want and it’s up to me to make things happen. 


Write about a noise – or even a silence, that won’t go away. I read this and automatically my mind flew to another time. It was a long while ago. Now a lot of my memories consist of boys and although I’ll remember them in vivid detail I don’t want this to be conveyed as still meaningful as anything more than a memory. But I still remember the quiet of everything but the pool cleaner and the dog panting on the other side of the gate as we stood mere inches from each other face to face, we’d move as if to kiss but stay apart without touching. The surrounding noises disappeared into a fierce silence that we both shared as be stared intently at one another. This silence, I could feel it growing louder in my head and all that I could concentrate on was his face. This silence continued until he grabbed me and spun me round. This silence continues in my head, like a recurring dream but one you don’t necessarily want to revisit.