It took you two years to show me your old uniform. It was neatly pressed and carefully hung. Its fabric looked flat and creaseless . I watched your face and sensed the weight of the occasion. Your eyes acquired that far away clouded look. You were gone. It didn’t matter I could see the hills too. My heart sunk. I was never going to get you back again. I thought of your father and whether he beat you a lot. You wouldn’t let anyone in. Not even me.
About Me
- Karolina
- So...I have decided to come out of my hiding and start a new blog. The blog will be about what's important and what excites me at the moment: which is fashion, writing, mental health, relationships, finding my own sexuality- in no particular order. I feel the cliche need to have my voice heard and I have decided to give in to it against the fear of being judgmental, generalising, un- pc and all around insensitive. So as you can see I am an anxious individual, but I am set on having my voice heard and on having a ball (however quiet) in the process. I was born in Poland and live in London which contributes many questions too. And I am currently doing a Btec in Fashion and Clothing. Here it goes... This will be a journey of the brain and of creativity. All aboard!
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