So, it's March. The third of March. We're three months in from the new year, three weeks away from finishing high school and in three days it will be the weekend and maybe I'll be able to breathe easy again. This post  marks a turning point of sorts for me, something I've been working towards this whole year but have never quite delved into. I believe that one of the most vital things a blogger should be is honest. It’s the element I strive for most in my work – that beyond the glossy photos, the words that often make my life sound beautifully perfect and poetic, there is a hint of honestly, something real, something familiar embedded in the words. It's the thing that makes me really proud when anyone comments on it.

But I tend to overlook the simple fact that my life isn't always poetic and aesthetically pleasing, and sometimes, it feels like the total opposite. I didn't write a proper journal post this week because honestly, it felt like my entire world was crumbling around me.  I didn't know what to do, how to react, what to think. I couldn't go online and present to you some perfect image of my week, when I'd walked home from school in tears and spent the majority of my days crying in my guidance councillors office and fighting with everyone and avoiding people. I lost a lot of trust in people this week, and honestly I spent most of it feeling isolated and unsure of myself and the people around me.

If I strive for anything on this blog it's to be real. A real human connection in a world that will not hesitate to knock us down and make us feel weaker than ever. It’s hard to explain but very easy to spot… a specific feeling and emotion you get when you can empathise with a character. As if, by seeing just one sentence, you can suddenly and entirely understand someone. It’s the look a person gives when she bares her soul – the type of melancholy mood that says everything and nothing all at once. Her past, her future, it’s all irrelevant, because the feeling is so real and enticing that it captures you, sucks you into another world, and suddenly nothing else is important except for the split second of time captured inside of that moment. Moments like that… they’re striking. To capture them in words it's as if they come alive, and time is just frozen inside, a careful and cautious setup, as if at any moment life will resume and the characters will come to life and the story will continue to unfold. Those are my favourite types of posts. The posts I love writing. Pieces that are so incredibly real and sincere that the lines between fact and fiction start to blur.

Honest blog posts are immensely easier to capture in the form of documentation – a candid post retelling an actual moment is, of course, very much real. The trouble I ran in to this year is that my posts are in no way real. They’re entirely staged. The subject is honest and true, but the moment is already gone by the time I let it go. Days of set writing, hours of revising, sometimes weeks of planning all come together to create something that will be read in under five minutes. It’s surreal, it’s beautiful, but it’s not honest. I published a post a day or two ago that I'd written weeks ago about how it felt to be leaving school so soon, and although the feelings were real, it felt like a lie to be publishing it at that moment. When I was in school, upset and alone and wishing to be anywhere else.

 I still have a long way to go in creating 100% honest work, because obviously, there are always going to be things I don't share, but it’s coming. Until then I’m just chasing feelings, wavering along the line between reality and imagination, trying to find some common ground and hoping for things to get better.

Anyway, this week has been a hard one, but it wasn't all bad.

Moments I'm Grateful For

- when my photography teacher sorted out my folder and made a folder called 'bogin photies' because he thinks photies is an actual word and uses it constantly.

-when I had a real heart to heart with a friend I'd been unintentionally neglecting lately and it made the world seem brighter

-when one of the little ones, who reminds me very much of my brother at that age, asked me about Jesus and heaven. I told him that we believe Jesus died for us and three days later rose from the dead and that's what Easter is. And he scrunched up his face real tight and said "so are you telling me that when we die, our skeletons stay in coffins down here and our skin goes up to heaven?" And I didn't know what to say so I said, "no our souls, all the good stuff we do, that goes up to heaven" and the little girl beside him chirped in "our souls are like ghosts" very matter of factly.

-the moment I arrived and one of them got really excited and shouted "GOOD MORNING MRS TIMMONS!" Even though it was the afternoon (they don't get the whole miss/mrs thing.)

- when we went over the 'sh' sound with them and asked them to think of words with 'sh' and a few of them, totally oblivious, wrote shit and it took everything in me to keep from laughing.

photo cred: alex currie


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