a nervous kiddo

a pro @ imperfections & best friends with her doubt


On the surface nothing looks wrong. Sure, there are bags under my eyes and my resting face isn’t joyful. But who doesn’t look like that?  On the surface everything seems fine.

On the surface, everyone looks fine. But when you get past the surface…

She is so worried about everything. To the point of tears all the time and shaking because nothing seems to be going right. She’s tired and sad, and tired of being worried, and sad that she’s so worried. She’s freaking out about something simple. She’s hoping that somebody will answer all her questions without knowing that she has them because she can’t ask. She does everything she can to avoid making any phone calls. She carries things with her to ease her anxiety (elastic bands, smooth rocks, a journal to write things down in).

But she’s not the only one, probably. It’s just that nobody notices because on the surface, everything looks normal. On the surface, it doesn’t look like anybody is going through anything. When in reality, everyone is struggling – they just pretend they aren’t.



The walls in my house are painted, obviously, but that’s not what makes them the colours that they are. What makes them colourful are the things that we put there to make this place a home instead of just a place to live.

The Friends poster in our living room, the birthday decorations that never come down, the fall leaves that endured Winter, Spring, and Summer, the silly collages on the stairs and the cupboards, the quotes, the photos, the letters from friends, the stickers, and the drawings.

That’s way nicer than a good paint job, in my opinion.


For this week’s photo challenge, morning, I brainstormed some nice ideas about drinking coffee at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper, doing something productive in the A.M.

The problem is, I don’t do any of those things. I especially am not going to drink a mug of hot tea or coffee in this weather. It’s way too hot for something like that. What do I do in the morning? I lie in bed until I’m too hot to get out, I brush my hair and have a cool shower, and I make my way downstairs trying to convince myself to eat a bagel or something. It’s not really “picture perfect” and I didn’t want to post something that was some false image of myself.


This is a picture taken from my bedroom window at 1:30 a.m. It was taken on my phone and it isn’t some photographic masterpiece or anything.

I tried to go to sleep early last night and that didn’t take away from my daily 1 a.m. wake up. As I sat in my bed awake in the dark, the unfortunate smell of skunk (or maybe it was bad weed) flooding my room, I thought about how it’s morning right now. Morning can be all of those lovely things mentioned above, the mugs and the news, but it can also be the darkness of the middle of the night. This isn’t the time of morning when your housemates would walk down the hall, groggy and tired, mumbling “good morning” to you as you see who gets to use the bathroom first. It’s the time of morning when those housemates are most likely asleep, dreaming about something, tossing and turning in their bed, and preparing themselves for the day ahead of them. Since my housemates are not around, for me it is the time of morning when I inevitably wake up, remember that I’m alone in the house, and reflect on that aloneness. Then, I try to get back to sleep because I don’t like reflecting on the aloneness. It’s lonely.


I love the innocence of having a little crush on someone. I love getting excited when someone is around you or sends you a message, wishing they were a bigger part of your life, wanting an excuse to talk to them.

But let’s go back to that idea of innocence. I love how I can have a “crush” (or what I think I could qualify as a crush) on my friends. I love being around them, I want to talk to them, I think they have great qualities. I could write books about how amazing some of the people in my life are. There are a few people in my life who are such positive influences on me, the decisions I make, whose opinions I trust and perspectives I admire. How can I not have a crush on them?


I’m not a touchy person. I don’t like when people get too close to me and I don’t like to share my space with others. But I crave the touch of another person. And not necessarily in a sexual way, but, like, I crave being able to stand on the porch of my house, head on someone’s shoulder, their arms around me. I bet that would feel safe. I crave safety.

I also crave autumn. I crave Roots sweat pants, warm socks, hoodies, mugs of warm drinks, blankets, and coziness. I’m done drowning in pools of my own sweat every minute of every day.

Now, both of those together? That’s the dream.


As I’m sitting here in Coffee Culture with WordPress open… I think to myself… What inspirational thing can I write about the one-word prompt today? I take a look at the prompt and it’s “muse.” Immediately I think to myself, nope, I’m skipping today. 

The only thing that came to my mind on the topic of muse was Wizards of Waverly Place. You know, that TV show from Family/Disney channel? With Selena Gomez? There’s this one episode where Alex is dating this guy who is a werewolf. Their relationship is fairly new and she’s excited because they will become this cute “art couple” since they both love art and painting… until she realizes that his muse is dogs and he only paints dogs. So she casts a spell to make HER his muse. The episode became so clear in my mind there was no way I was going to be able to write about ANYTHING ELSE.

So there it is. “Muse” to me is that episode of Wizards of Waverly Place. I’m not proud.


One of my best friends in this world – the first person I made friends with at university, my roommate as of 3+ years, the funny, nerdy girl who sleeps down the hall from me – shared something personal with me today. She let me read her writing. I was so honoured when she said she wanted me to read it, and it was really good.

I’ve been looking for inspiration in different places, lately. I’ve tried looking for inspiration in nature, in the way I present myself, in the way my room looks, within the artistic projects I’ve tried starting, and in the music I’ve been listening to. And now, with the writing that’s been shared with me.

I tried praying today. It was really short. It didn’t feel forced, though. I don’t really know what I want to say about that. My relationship with religion has always felt very complicated to me and I’ve struggled with believing in a higher power. I’ve always wanted to believe in God but it’s been too hard to really understand how that can be possible. Maybe I can find inspiration in these ideas that are really complicated to me. Somewhere.


This week’s photo challenge is “narrow.” I went for a walk today – the theme narrow on my mind as I walked through downtown on my way to the water. I noticed the alley outside the building I had my French class in where my professor would smoke a cigarette right before the lecture. I noticed the skinny dirt path beside the river. I noticed a tiny stick (or was it a weird looking bug?) that was hanging from a thin string.


I took this picture of a branch on a tree. I know that this image probably isn’t super inspired or anything; this perspective – while narrow in itself – is also quite widely used. But I had to narrow in my thoughts in order to really get this picture out of my walk. I really focused on this tree. I focused on the details of the branch, the fact that this branch went straight out and then curved upwards, and if I took the picture with my camera resting on the branch I could have it focus on the straight part. I don’t know where I’m going with this,

I’m just proud of myself for changing my normal narrow view of the world and going on a walk, by myself, in an area I’d never been before. It was close to where I always go and it was a very short walk, but progress is progress. I was only mildly anxious hearing strangers’ voices from a dirt path with empty beer cans on it.

OH. I guess that’s another thing. Narrowing your focus to the beauty? There are so many things that can make this world ugly and those things are so easy to focus on. Don’t necessarily narrow your view, but narrow the perspective sometimes – you could find something beautiful.

In all things of nature there is something of the marvelous. – Aristotle


How come “I’m sorry” is so hard to say? Is it because it’s so hard to admit to yourself that you’ve made a mistake or done something wrong? Because it’s not like it’s hard to tell yourself that you’re garbage or just drown in thoughts of self-hatred.

Why is it even harder to say it to yourself? Continue reading “apology.”

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