On the day I found out my dad had a year to live, I was standing at work, typing away stupidly about something I can’t remember now. And in an instant, I was catapulted into a terrible grief I knew nothing about. Like a dark room I’d never entered, feeling my way around. Gemma called my boss, my colleagues, and my best friends. Ordering one to give me time off, to get coffee, and to buy moving boxes. In the apartment, I couldn’t even remember my own name. Gemma found my passport, called my sister and arranged a pick up, and booked my flight for the next morning. Early but not too early, because she said I needed sleep. How do I even begin to pack right now? Gemma told everyone what to do. She put on my favourite songs, Taylor Swift, whom she didn’t particularly care for, and made the executive decision to toss my near-empty shampoo bottles. We walked through a handful of outfits I’d need - certainly comfy ones - as Gemma proposed. And when I’d come back to collect my t...
Almost got the job, almost had feelings, almost lived in a city, almost graduated, almost there. It’s just the worst thing in the world. That constant anticipation leading up to it, and the often underwhelming feeling that comes after. Nothing hurts more than an almost. Maybe it’s because I’m an all or nothing type of person. Black or white. I’ve never met in the middle ground. And I always wonder why it didn’t work out. Some of the best advice I ever heard was: If it’s not a hell yes, it’s a hell no. Apply that to any scenario in your life and you have your answer. If they don’t want you like a hell yes, then it’s a hell no. If it’s not a hell yes to staying in your job, then it’s a hell no. You get it? There is no maybe, no almost there, no middle. This is the way I plot decisions in my life. If someone isn’t giving me hell yes, they’re giving me hell no. & vice versa. I wish everyone could skip the almost. You either want it or you...