Time waits for no man. It moves, constantly rushing, slipping, sliding away from us as we chase it. Stretching, squeezing, bending in an endless current. So fast, the way that everything can change in an instant and just when you think you’ve caught up? It switches direction, jumps, droops, falls as you helplessly try to sprint after it in a headlong rush. We only have ourselves to blame, I suppose (they say time is a concept after all) for trying...

Time waits for no man. It moves, constantly rushing, slipping, sliding away from us as we chase it. Stretching, squeezing, bending in an endless current. So fast, the way that everything can change in an instant and just when you think you’ve caught up? It switches direction, jumps, droops, falls as you helplessly try to sprint after it in a headlong rush. We only have ourselves to blame, I suppose (they say time is a concept after all) for trying...

What am I doing here? Ella wondered. No matter how hard she tried she always seemed to return right to this spot, as if she was stuck in an endless loop of sleeping, eating, going to school and then, finally, coming here: the graveyard. The trees had changed since last time. Where once the leaves were just starting to turn a rusty orange they were now a dull, lifeless brown, heaped up in piles along the sides of the wide...

I think that sometimes 
I forget
that people change
That the girl in my tutor
I first talked to
four years ago 
is different now. However slightly,
she has changed.

I pack them in boxes,
seal them up,
and put them aside, under tidy little labels.
And walk away. 

And I think sometimes 
I forget 
that change is okay.
And maybe it’s okay for me to change.
To want to stop being the quiet, smart, shy one at the back...

I think that sometimes 
I forget
that people change
That the girl in my tutor
I first talked to
four years ago 
is different now. However slightly,
she has changed.

I pack them in boxes,
seal them up,
and put them aside, under tidy little labels.
And walk away. 

And I think sometimes 
I forget 
that change is okay.
And maybe it’s okay for me to change.
To want to stop being the quiet, smart, shy one at the back...

I write. I write to find myself. To gather the words to sum up my innermost feelings (they say we were once hunter-gatherers and it's never been more true), those which sounds don't justify// I write to lose myself. The endless flow of commas, full stops, verbs, nouns// I
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     ...