Day 16: Addict

I googled the word addict and one of the definitions was ‘an enthusiastic devotee’. So, I decided to base my post on something I am enthusiastically devoted to, to-do lists.

I am addicted to to-do lists, whether that’s in the form of a to-do journal, a white board in my room, numerous post it notes, my calendar, my list app, or my notes app. I have endless amounts of to-do lists. I have an app of to-do lists, where I can organise them according to theme, and add notes and attachments and share them (which comes in handy for a grocery list as the other person can see what has already been bought). I love to-do lists.

I go to bed every night with a list of things I have to remember, and to make sure I remember, I set my morning alarm and write a note of things I have to do. I also set alarms throughout the day to remind me of things I have to do.

Why do I need so many lists you ask? I’m not a forgetful person and I always remember during the day without my alarm and then I have to turn off my alarm because I’ve already accomplished the task. It’s the same with my calendar, I can recite all the things I have to do today without looking at my calendar but I still make a note of everything. This is because I remember things once I’ve written it down. If someone says something to me and I try to remember it, I never do, but once I write it down, it stays in my mind forever. So, here’s to to-do lists. May I always find new and creative ways of making them.


Thank you for reading.

Day 15: Eavesdropping

She stood still, with her back against the wall. She knew she had to be quiet, lest they heard her. She knew that she shouldn’t have been eavesdropping, but she had to.  She had to know their plans for her.

“Well obviously she can’t stay here”, said the woman in an all-white attire. She was dressed from head to toe in the whitest of white clothing, whiter than cream, ivory and even Chantilly lace. She dressed as if she was grasping at an air of sophistication but could never quite reach it. On anyone else, her costume would give a hint of elegance and a clue to her class, but on her it was kitsch.

“But where else could she go? You wouldn’t let her stay with me”, exclaimed the other in desperation. She had been having this argument with her sister for months. She wanted her niece to stay with her and had wanted it since the death of their sister, Hahri, 3 months ago. Hahri and Rahza had always been close since they were young, with both of them being closest in age. When Hahri had gotten pregnant at 16, it was Rahza who kept her secret and found her a place to live. It was also Rahza who visited her youngest sister and the new baby almost every week. Even after Shriya turned 5 and they moved into the city, Rahza had still visited as often as she could. When her sister first died, she had wanted her 16-year-old niece to stay with her, but her elder sister insisted that she should be the one to take care of her. And now here she was, trying to throw the girl out, after all she had been through.

“Well that’s because you couldn’t handle it, you know nothing about motherhood….”

“KNOW NOTHING ABOUT MOTHERHOOD??!!” screamed Rahza, she rarely raised her voice, especially at her elder sister. “I have been with her since the day Hahri gave birth to her, I was there. I was there when she learnt how to walk, and when she learnt how to talk. I was there, sobbing tears when Hahri decided to move. I was there through it all. Where were you?”

Amja had heard it all before, her sister always lorded it over her, the fact that she has known their niece from a young age. It wasn’t her fault that her parent had disowned her youngest sister, and as the eldest daughter she had to lead by example and disassociate herself with Hahri. Especially since Hahri didn’t think her worthy enough to tell her that she was pregnant. The two of them always kept secrets from her, she was always the villain whilst the other two had each other.

“I know, I know, I just wanted to spend some time with my niece for once! I wanted to be the one that knew her, that she had secrets and stories together” exclaimed Amja.

All this while, Shriya had stood behind the door, with her back against the wall listening as her aunties argued. She knew which aunty she wanted to stay with, although she loved her favourite aunty, Rahza, she wanted to stay with Amja. She knew how difficult it was for Amja to always have to be the perfect daughter, how much she had sacrificed to please her parents. She knew that her staying would be a second chance for her aunt to build the relationship she had always wanted with her mother.

“So let her stay!” said Rahza, exasperated “be more patient, she is 16. You remember what Hahri was like at 16, her daughter is no different. You need to try harder, she just lost her mother. She is going to rebel and do stupid things. Just be there for her and let her stay”.

Amja, relieved at hearing this, smiled at her sister “you’re right, I need to stop making everything about me and focus on her. She has been through a lot.”

Satisfied with the results of the conversation, Shriya slowly crept to her room.


Thank you for reading.

Day 14: The Found Poem

For the found poem, I opened my copy of Sense and Sensibility and found 10 words to base the poem on. I then spent 2 hours trying to make sense of these words before placing them in the poem below.


Alone in the garden, transfixed in a reverie

Came memories of paradise that flooded forth

For upon reflection, he saw it clear

That her affections, of gold had more worth

As though he was drinking, he consumed the air

Marianna she was, maiden of the north

Although unread, she was very fair

Convinced of her beauty, the belle of the court

Left him to himself, without a care

To dream his sweet dream, that satisfaction brought.


Thank you for reading.

Day 13: The Letter Poem

Dear Lover,

Just 2 words written on a page

Brought my heart freedom from it’s cage

The day we met, you had such charm

It caused me to step back in alarm

The smile you gave followed by the wink

Forced me to lose all ability to think

I knew I was yours the moment you said hello

I was ready for anything, and everything that followed.


Dear Lover,

My heart cannot sit still

Every moment with you has been nothing but a thrill

Remember when we took our first trip to South of France

And stood under the moon and had our first dance

Remember the sand that followed us to bed

And you looked into my eyes after all that was said

You told me you loved me, till death do us part

And I said, I do, offering you my heart.


Dear Lover,

With all these years, not a thing has changed

Not a day goes by, that I don’t think it strange

That my love for you has never ceased

Through all the years, it has increased

Through fights and disagreements

And all the ragging seasons,

You are and will forever be my dear lover.


Thank you for reading.

Day 12: Greetings

Greetings are more rooted in our culture than we realise. Every culture has their own greetings, both in speech and body language. For example, when I lived in France, we would lean in, allowing our cheeks to touch, whilst making kissing noises. I mean what a strange and obscure thing, to make kissing noises whilst 2 cheeks are touching as a form of greeting. And then we would repeat with the other cheeks. I remember the first time I was greeted by a Frenchman and he leaned in and proceeded to carry out the actions. I felt so awkward and uncomfortable, because I did not remember giving him permission to enter my personal space, let alone touch my cheek with his own. I knew it was harmless, and that it was just the way the French greeted each other, yet it felt so strange. And this was not only the case for saying hello, but they would do this again when saying goodbye. That meant 4 cheek touching sessions and 4 kissing noises with complete strangers every time you wanted to greet them. There was a brief moment where I would avoid eye contact with people just so they wouldn’t greet me.

After about a month of living in France, I got used to it and when I would come home to England to see my family and friends, greetings felt so empty without the French gestures. I always had to stop myself from leaning in to greet people the French way. After moving back to England, I returned to my old ways, saying hello with my words, and the occasional wave, the English way.


Thank you for reading.