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things available to love
the sun comes and i make my lists
yoga after shower
new climbing shoes
kissing in the hallway
finished uni for summer
reading eileen myles
fixing things
sleeping skin to skin
frisbee
long hair
stripes
making pizza and garlic bread
smelling like suncream
laughing a little
laughing until it hurts
udon noodles
getting better
shiny skin
playing guitar
eating chips in the park
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april
feeling like furniture at work
frozen broad beans in a ziploc bag for my ankle
swimming
wanting to cry
trying not to
beautiful sunset
the glass essay
german movies
thinking im doing it wrong
people quitting
giving too much
bodies underwater
coconut milk
snail trail
burnt tongue
dvd readers
stock count
soy yoghurt
bfi player
early dinner
bright evenings
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in this poem
we are lying in bed together
and i'm searching your face
trying to read your mind
wondering what the truth you're withholding means
wondering how bad it is
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things i love today
friday 21 march
emily
swimming
good news
my new jeans
billie marten
waking up to natural light
the flat i'm moving into
hot chocolate
sunshine
new climbing shoes
three concerts to look forward to
mango ice lollies
flatbread
glee
stardew valley
singin in the rain
kissing
dolly parton
iced matcha with coconut milk
doing the dishes
making pizza
my backpack
my waterbottle
wearing mules to work
booking a haircut
two plaits
t shirts
pan au chocolat
fruity filter coffee
smiling at people
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6 march
this is a list. I try not to make lists when im sad but its been a weird week
sprained ankles
classical music
car crash
big fall
powerful scream
lying to your mother
breaking down on a roundabout
breaking down in spain
aeropress coffee
lightning
thunder
cats
planes
chlorine
waterproof coats
good jeans
crunchy broccoli
water shortages
showering
bruising
guidebooks
retching
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losing yourself for a few months
finding her in the bathroom at a work party, wiping the shadow of mascara from below her eyes,
saying goodbye to your coworkers before they emigrate to the warmth of a new county, realising how much you meant to each other. it nearly felt like we had gone back in time, the past felt so comforting, early January mornings opening shop together, so dark it could have been 3a.m., it could have felt like it.
last year inviting me to live in it, a place where you knew what was going to happen, to know you could deal with all the worry as you'd done it all before.
an invitation that can't be accepted is a mean and mocking tease,
'I'll see you before I leave'
there's a space in the car for me to go to the next bar with them, but I don't want to go. I feel like I've been twisted out.
waking up the next morning with the bitten parts of my lips stained dark from red wine, feeling like I had been left behind again.
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9 jan
this is a list
ice scraper
haircuts
hot chocolate
vegan chilli
fighting about it
fingerless gloves
driving to the mountains
trailers
flat whites
frosty trees
light snow
clear sky
too cold for squirrels
yellow journal
student houses
the best risotto ive ever had
the coldest winter ive seen
wishing I could read her mind
cold climbing shoes
soft wool socks
snow on top of cars
snow on top of mountains
considering dropping out
money
planning the week
trying not to be upset
hummus
red hands
getting stronger
going home
waking up early
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I've been mean, self pitying and careless. None of it felt good, but I know that being good is an art, it takes effort but it feeds itself. It is my only option, I want to make the people I love feel good. I feel like I had it back to front, trying to be tolerated and approved by everybody. Tolerance and approval will not fulfil you as much as you think it will. I'm sitting in a freezing coffee trailer, serving a customer once every half an hour and watching the snow fall. My fingers might freeze off. I'm going to be nice.
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christmas list
new soap
2000 miles
black coffee
hot shower
broken phone
new girl Christmas specials
silver rings
mtv
black long sleeve t shirt
wearing makeup
mushroom wellington
pine candle
white wine before noon
nativity scene
sellotape
chocolate
brie and cranberry
wham
american cousins
oilve body lotion
5 days until she's home
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todayagainandagain
this is a list
hair in a plait
three deadline extensions
heavy rain
mushrooms on toast
two coffees interluded by herbal tea
blue knitted socks
smelly hiking boots
YouTube on the tv
buses and trains
arguing
new bedsheets
scripts
dvds
advent calendars
pak choi
climbing shoes attached to my bag
soup
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things I love today
autonomy
patterned socks
spicy hummus
hot coffee
snow on the mountains
lemsip with a sore throat
collecting film equipment
free screenwriting software
free editing software
duolingo
hoover lines
David shrigley
belaying
big headphones
big fleeces
looking at the bigger picture
crying on my walk to uni
defrosting the car
moisturiser
rabbit teddy (Paul)
David gray giving me a maternal feeling
my mum
facetiming friends who moved far away
christmas movies
christmas music
father John misty
doc martens
bed
great British bake off
opting out
opting in
scrambling
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winter rules
I haven't written a list like this in a long time, so I'll do it differently now. these are the things I love today. the title of this is misleading - there's only really one rule - keep loving
my girlfriend
wearing a long sleeve under a big t shirt
soup
running my hands through her hair, feeling the warmth of her head when she lies on top of me
kath and kim
paddington
celine sciamma
cats
the smell of the bread factory on my way to the climbing gym
patterned socks
hiking
my eyebrow piercing
waking up in the night and pulling her closer
turning the car heating the whole way up
the cinema
taking notes
having Sunday off
new backpack
county mayo
doing everyday things with her
charity shop denim
the Vietnamese coffee shop
cauliflower and broccoli
Adrianne lenker
the smell of the launderette on my way to uni
deleting instagram
speaking irish podcast
the mourne mountains
buying cds
learning to play new board games
silver earrings
having long hair
a little life
long bus journeys
Manchester
London
biscuits
earl grey tea with oat milk
hot showers
freshly trimmed fringe
waking up early
going to sleep early
cast iron
buying gifts
rice pudding
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in the last few hours of July I feel like I've been taken apart very gently. the year is moving fast and falling in love is scary, biting my tongue before I admit it first, making friends with your friends, helping you move house, kissing in the hallway, looking at eachother the whole way through a room full of people. staring at your ceiling while you sleep, feeling myself change by the second. I wonder who I'll be next week, or by Christmas. your hand on my leg while I drive, my hands in your hair while we watch TV, making dinner together, making eggs for breakfast, taking your work meetings sitting on my bed while I lie on the floor, reading. you squeezing the space between my thumb and forefinger, making me feel real, and warm. I'm real, I'm warm, I think I'm in love with you.
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my laptop password is still my old best friend's name, even after everything that happened. I cant be hungry like I was when I was 16 because my body wants to glow. I was built to have muscle on my bones, I was built to be beautiful
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summer rules is one year old
and I have a few more. some of these aren't even rules. there are no rules.
get on the train
greek yoghurt and berries and extra dark honey
hay fever tablets
so you can lie in the grass
dont kill bugs
put them outside
get in the water
even just up to your knees
kiss her even if you're scared
you dont have to text anyone back
smile first thing every morning, before you look at your phone
the wind in the trees and the blood in your body and the noise in the small throats of birds and dogs and girls
windows down
the big moth in your room is your friend
so am i
I love you
single digit bedtime sometimes but not all the time
beer garden cigarette
unless you quit
well done
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one day you're lying in bed at 4am because your jaw aches from grinding your teeth, and your stomach aches because it's empty, and your heart aches because you're an alien on earth and nobody knows what to do with you, you don't know what to do with yourself. your arms have been zip-tied to your sides. you quit your job. you take a few flights, go on a date when you come home. then another date. you're brave and you go out to see your friends, because they don't hate you, you just thought they did. and you take the courage to meditate, because you don't hate yourself, you just thought you did. and you're sleeping better. and it all happened quite quickly, like maths.
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