Story

Fighting Failure

Failure.

Failure.

Failure.

Failure,

Rings out in my mind,

Poisoning me

From the inside out;

Infecting the positivity,

Any belief in me,

In my abilities.

Never an ‘A’

But an ‘F’

Plus, lack of support,

Loss of motivation,

Confusion of my mission.

Failure;

Leading onto uselessness,

Like what I’m doing is pointless,

Meaning nothing,

Making no impact,

Slowly chugging on,

But moving nowhere,

Despite my best efforts;

I wonder why I try and try,

Feeling like I’m dying inside.

Stresses and hurt killing me,

Melancholy weighs down on me,

Don’t know why I’m sad,

My head’s empty,

But heart’s heavy,

Longing for it all stop

Effective immediately;

Wishing I had no purpose,

No calling,

Would make it simpler

When working,

Feeling I need to head in one direction,

Is causing me affliction.

“Make it stop,” I beg,

But life still carries on,

My emotions persist,

Dragging me along,

Knocking my head

At every turn,

Making death feel closer,

For which I sometimes yearn,

But then remembering,

I’ve got more to give yet,

Still things to do,

My story needs an end.

A Small Friend

When you’re a small person like me, it always feels nice to spend time with someone that is smaller than you.  However, this is not the reason for me being friends with this individual.  Yes, we are both small people, but we share a bond over creativity and museum visits.

Studying Textiles was my favourite part of my whole A-level experience and it was also one of the best eras of my life – I’ll never forget the two years spent with an amazing teacher and five great ladies, one of who I’m writing about today.  A-level Textiles meant a lot of museum or gallery visits, but they are not always fun when you are on your own or don’t have a complete idea of where you’re going, so my friend and I found ourselves on quite a few visits together.

These visits were always fun and full of laughs, like when her sister almost hit her with an umbrella that she threw down from the balcony of her flat and we spent the day hopping from tube to tube.  We also found ourselves at the British Museum hunting for shells that we thought weren’t there, but we eventually found them on one of our travels.

She was one of my closest friends at sixth form and I loved our times spent chatting during form time.  I also enjoyed our little trips  spent buying birthday presents for our Textiles teacher.  She always had a story to tell and something interesting to add to our conversations – now that I think about it, I really miss hearing her tell those stories.

I am truly grateful for those museum visits, not only because I love museums, but because they enabled me to strike up a strong friendship with someone who really means a lot to me.  Again, I don’t see her nowhere near as much as I would like to, but I hope she knows that I love her loads.