‘That last one’s messed up, right?’

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

I apologise too much. I know I do. Especially when it comes to my best friend. And I know she hates it. But it’s a habit. It’s really difficult to explain why I do it, because I don’t really know myself, but what I can tell you is this. Today, I decided that I need to change. Yes, I’ve been saying it for a while, but it’s now really important. And so I set about googling, with fairly little faith. And I found the story of my life. Okay, I took one of the sentences out and I edited it to make it a bit more PG, but this is me. This is exactly what I do!

“I say it when I’m nervous. I say it when I’m uncomfortable. I say it in place of excuse me. I say it instead of more appropriate words. I say it when someone is hurting and I want to help. I say it when I’m scared that someone will leave me, like a damn apology martyr. I say it to inanimate objects when I drop them. I say it to pigeons I nearly step on. I say it when I want to hear someone else say it to me.
That last one’s messed up, right?”

And it’s on my bucket list. It has been for a while. Number 42. ‘Say sorry only when you need to’

But change is difficult. And change takes time. But I’m pushing people away with my insistent ‘sorry’ and I don’t want to do that. That’s exactly why I say it, to pull people closer. And it’s doing the opposite. It’s nearly a new year, so maybe it’s time for a new attitude, it’s time to change.

So, for now, unless I’ve really hurt you, I’m not sorry any more. I’m going to ask you to ‘excuse me’.

Living. Laughing. Loving.



It’s Only Because I Care

Sometimes, it’s really hard to help people. They just don’t listen to you, and they insist that they’re ‘fine’. I know you’re not fine, I know you’re not okay, and I’m worried about you. I care about you, and that’s why I want to help you.

You’ve helped me. You’re always there for me, you’ve been there hundreds of times, for every single hurdle I’ve faced. Every problem, no matter how big or how silly. And now, I’m worrying about you. But your pride is pulling you down. Please let me help you. Trust me. I’m your friend.

It was that friend who sent me this image a long time ago, when I too insisted I was ‘fine’. When I wouldn’t talk.


And I’ve come through a lot since then. Some of it dragged through, some of it I’ve run through, but that friend has been the most amazing person ever. I just wish she’d let me in. Because I know she’ll never forgive me if I have to do something that she doesn’t want me to do. And I don’t want to loose her.

Living. Laughing. Loving.


I Wish I Was Clever

In today’s society, grades are everything. Your GCSEs are your passage to A Levels, your A Levels are your passage to Uni, and your choice of Uni is your passage to your job. More and more schools are becoming academies, desperate to gain a good reputation. So it’s unsurprising that every year, more and more pressure is placed upon students to get the top grades.

I’m not stupid. Once upon a time, I was clever. Really clever. In fact, when I left primary school, I recieved an award for outstanding achievement. As I’ve gotten older however, I feel more and more like a little fish in a big sea. At AS, I got AAAB. By no stretch of the imagination is that ‘bad’, but it can be considered it. When your best friend has applied to medicine at Cambridge, and you’re good friends with the three people in your school who took the BMAT exam, it’s really easy to feel stupid. Don’t get my wrong, my friends are great, but sometimes you can’t help but think ‘what if?’

I’m under more pressure every day. The ‘clever’ people can take that, but I can’t. I’ll crack. I work for my grades. Super hard. I just don’t stop, I panic, I work, I panic, I work, I panic, I work. And exams stress me out. Why? Because it’s just so easy for me to fail. Clever people don’t fail. And they don’t have to work hard. But I’m not clever, I’m not like my friends. I HAVE to work, or I’d fail. And there is a heck of a lot of my future resting on the shoulders of how much I work. Because failure leads you nowhere. In the twenty first century, failure means that you have no life. There is no way out.

Is it fair? Is it fair that we face this much pressure in today’s society? That the school policy is to contact home if you’re getting a C in your mocks when a computer system somewhere is telling them that you should get an A. And that system calculated that based on your postcode, number of siblings, primary school, parents jobs, even year two SATS results!

I don’t think so.

Living. Laughing. Loving.