I’m okay, you’re okay.


I don’t want the pedestal. I’d rather have just the pavement. I’m the round peg that fits in the square hole, but doesn’t quite fill it. I’m coffee that’s dark and strong but not really sweet.  I’m the words that need no ruled pages, but also the colours that stay within the lines. I’m the train that’s always running late. I’m not the flat stomach and straight hair. I’m not the good teeth and perfect smile. I can be stormy while I’m quiet. I can be the meaning between the lines. I don’t want to be the pretty picture. Im not sure I could even be the sharpest mind. I’m the in-betweens, the ordinary, the everyday. I’m not going to ever tick all the boxes.

But you know what? It’s ok.


The reluctant writer.


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