Thursday, 30 July 2015

How to Save A Life


In the end, we couldn't save you.

For 3 months, we did.

It doesn't matter how it happened, and grief is unaltered by circumstance and uninformed excuses. Everyone is always interested in the "Why?" and the "How?", but I don't care too much about that. Neither should you. Life is life, no matter how it comes to it's end.

Wednesday, 15 July 2015

I Didn't Love You

new york imageLong after I slammed down the phone, you still thought I loved you.

I heard her breath behind you, quiet through static. 

Two years and eight days. 

I didn't love you, I needed a way out.

Tuesday, 14 July 2015

The Last Yellow Taxi

new york imageIt was one last trip, and it was locked in silence. The wind forced it's way through a cracked window, and I held my hands around one last cup of coffee. I was drinking it black, an uncharacteristic move due to a sharp nervousness in my stomach. It was although my body was preparing for me to pull the pin from the grenade, it felt as though everything I had known before had vanished in smog. We had taken one last taxi ride, encouraged by the misfortune that my suitcase had lost it's unruly wheels- which made the train seem like a disastrous idea.

I left New York on a cloudless afternoon on January 5th 2013, and everything was magnified beneath the snappy winter sunlight. After eight days of adventures and shameless parade, it was like I had been restored to my old self again. This trip was like my grand finale of my twenty second year. I could not shut off the voice that told me, "Everything is going to matter now." I knew that this goodbye would last longer than the rest.

Monday, 13 July 2015

Chuck's Rescue: Saving a Deaf Dog

american bull dog photoOn a Sunday morning in May, he looked up at me with a vague sense of familiarity. His grey speckled snout was bleeding from distress in a concrete block, and he looked vacant. He leaned into me, and I knew what to do.

I knew that he was my dog.

By this point, I had been walking him every weekend for six weeks. I became a volunteer at Cardiff Dogs Home after meeting him outside Pets at Home, and although I walked other dogs, I would always walk him first. He would drag me down the lane, and steal a Starbucks cookie out of my sister's hand. 

Saturday, 11 July 2015

Doubt, Multiplied

personal photography image

What if I wanted to be a lawyer, a doctor, or maybe a lecturer?
I can argue any case, and tell any story.
I can be resourceful, ruthless or sympathetic.

I have never had any doubt in my mind about where I've been going. Growing up, I had always had a direction and an end game. In the space between careless hot breath and woven words were ideologies and purpose. I was positively bothersome about it, and my certainty would often waver on arrogance.

In hindsight, I could have chosen something more lucrative, and something with a straight path instead of a derelict road cluttered with hopeless wordsmiths and clusters of unlucky ones. I chose a career that doesn't want me, at least not yet. I chose words, and stories. I ask that you do not mistake these statements as a masquerade of self pity and wisdom, but accept them as I have. I hand picked a world of horrors and growing pains and I chose a career with no currency.

Now, it strips my lungs of fresh air, and it makes me panic.

Inhale. Exhale. Ignore. Move on.