Can we dance now?


  D.D.14.11.14 // Our school dinner dance! A quintessential part of the Year 10 experience, as I'd like to think. In other words, our year hasn't had a single decent social and this would've been impossible to pass up. It became a night to savour, before getting wrapped up in upper school affairs. I had been anxious of any potential mishaps but it all went by seamlessly. (3 hours were not enough!) Of my anticipation, I had a few paramount goals in mind:

1 // Eat my fill - including dessert. 2 // Dance with as many people as possible. 3 // Try not to trip in my Topshop platforms. 4 // Commemorate the formal occasion with photos. 5 // Have a much-needed golden, relaxed night.
  To sum it up, it was a mass semi-formal party with many of my favourites. The buffet was brilliant, too. I accomplished all my intended goals with the exception of #3. Only once, and that was excusable as it was on the dance floor. (Oh and when I carelessly asked Liz to give me a piggyback, sorry Liz.) #4 was carried out with iPhone photos, so please don't mind the quality. These are some of the night's highlights. Surprisingly, the rest of my year group was eager to dance, hence I didn't feel alone on the effervescent party spirit. The DJ's music picks weren't the most tasteful but that's alright. #2 was still executed well. What a great way to commence the start of formals, to celebrate our years in high school thus far. 
  It was actually my first proper time getting all done up - think hair, make-up and heels - but I warmed up to it fairly well. I had a lovely lady called Catherine help me out with curling my hair and minimal makeup, which I even hated to say goodbye to when getting un-ready. I felt a bit anxious and out of my element at first, until I arrived and received numerous compliments. I soon was exuding confidence and I honestly couldn't get over how great everyone looked! I also got henna done by an amazing girl who I used to go to primary school with. My look for the night came together as Indian-esque - with gorgeous henna, Pearl's gifted bangles from India and bright tangerine as a centre-piece. I'm really quite happy I went with my choices. Again, I'm incredibly content with the amazing vibe thanks to the convivial crowd all around with me.

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The hours.

  Amongst the others, you waver. To coexist harmoniously without fault is what it appears to be. You are a lone, weakening plant. You are a single teardrop in a sea of others. You resent the dreamy blue skimming the surface. You are nothing more than a cog in flawless machinery. The turning of gears rustles you inside. You feel utterly betrayed by the security of numbers.

  All you need is an escape. At least you do, on occasion. Soon it becomes all you can think of. The hours file by in a repetitive fashion and you feel pulled in all directions. Your liquid woes build up inside of you. You stare at their faces, into defeat. With every step your brave demeanor comes crumbling down. You keep your silence. And finally, you let it all out.

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Don't hold me back.

  It has, and will be, a period of countless endeavours. My English and history exams have been conclusive of grimacing hours, resulting in limp writing hands. I'm just very well glad they're over! There are still a bunch of assignments and matters to triumph over - getting my L's, increasing pressure children's theatre costuming/rehearsals, preparing for the dinner dance, gift shopping, video assignments, suppressing tears and all-new prioritising of people - so here's a big, breathless hello to 16.


  I know the apparent busiest days have yet to come - also known as, my senior years of high school. I might as well savour my time now; hence I shall. It's been lots of looking forward to the future, but I've reminded myself to breathe and enjoy the now. Also, take care of yourself - as my fellow blogger Bella advises. (Let her talk some sense into you.)

  And you should, too. Hoping on everyone's behalf, that November has been pleasant thus far!

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Bottleneck.


  You feel it pulse throughout every single one of your veins. It hints at its adorned superstition. An unannounced delivery of all sorts. It demands to be heard, to be felt. In substance - it prickles and taints the sensory ideals. Drumming in your ears, jarring tunes playing on your fears. Your existence is pardoned.

  A riddle at the very nape of your neck. Your cheeks and temples stay hot. The hours are glum. A light eases the pain but continues to flicker. Your spine curls aslant, nestling your crown on your chest. You cave in and embrace its contents.

  Are you giddy with delight? Are you overcome with cowardice, your pastille penchant? Those beg the crucial questions.

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