Date number two might seem like a very lesbian amount of time to talk about whether or not we wanted kids, but I reckon it’s just sensible. If one person is on that page and another isn’t, you might be left with an emotional bunion waiting to pop.

Throughout this grief, my personality has morphed as well. I don’t have a need to fill silences anymore, I’m more present, and less inclined to crack jokes for social approval. I can throw out my random existential thoughts, knowing the people around me aren’t afraid of them.

Knowing he was holding on for me, not himself. He was ready; I wasn’t. But in Nash’s story, for his heart to stop breaking, mine had to start. That’s grief. The trade-off. The shitty deal we make for love.

Of course, everyone has their struggles. Beautiful people don’t get a free pass on hardship, and many hot people are targeted and tormented for their perceived ‘pretty privilege’. But for today, this blog focuses on the experience I personally am closer to: feeling like the equivalent of a walking thumb.

On the other side of the room, I saw friends I grew up with, seemingly ‘succeeding’ perpetually at life; whether it be in creativity or business. They had thousands of followers, decent looks and nice clothes. So many of these people seemed to uphold a great highlight reel all year round. I post my thoughts on any platform and the response is less than the sound of a fart. Minimal interaction, only a dollop of recognition. So appreciating I am of the one or two dollops, why can’t that be enough? Why do I need to lather my soul with more creamy validation?

It doesn’t matter if you think they’re too soft, stupid, or emotional; feelings are a personal event. No amount of judgment is going to change that. Online platforms seem to crank up the volume on this shaming of feelings. We get to judge and criticise written words while completely disconnecting from the humanity behind them.

A face appears near mine, It's filled with hope.
My eyes are heavy, my throat is sore, I've only just stopped crying.

What would the heart do if confronted with nothing but your presence? It would sting a little more at first, or maybe it would feel like an unbearable weight. If held for some time, without judgement, it might show you the power of its love.

By the time I turned fifteen, I had lived in twenty-six different houses. I’d been shuffled between New Zealand and Australia, and then back to New Zealand before starting high school. It’s a strange experience to bounce around without solid ground, a feeling many of us know and wish we didn’t.

Two fifteen-year-old girls from contrasting worlds forge an unexpected bond in 1990s Naarm, Melbourne. This story explores secrecy, love, and cultural identities, revealing the intersections of race, resilience, and the profound power of connection in the face of adversity.