Last year

i remember england. 
mostly right now i remember my dormitory: 
a little place with an insufficient fan, 
blackout curtains that opened onto a courtyard
and when the sun was out it was too hot to keep them closed
and when it rained the raindrops ran down the windowpanes and it looked like music. 
i remember wandering the streets, hungry and uncomfortable, 
before giving up and buying dinner from the grocery store down the street
and eating it with a stolen fork while watching doctor who in my room. 
i remember waking up early every morning and sneaking to the showers. 
i remember the smell of the restrooms
and speaking out dialogue to no one from writing projects in a bathroom stall at eleven at night to see if it sounded any good. 
i remember sunburn and subway rides and london pride--
the simultaneous exhileration and alienation of being surrounded by people flaunting an aspect of themselves
that i kept quiet and discreet in my own identity. 
i remember albums of music i never listen to anymore
except when i want to go back. 
i remember fear,
and jet lag, 
and primark. 
i remember sitting on the windowsill in someone else's dorm room
with a group of girls i had barely met, 
discussing chocolate, anxiety and the meaning of life. 
i remember the corridors which went on and on forever
with no signs to differentiate which was which
and the elevator which moaned and wheezed whenever you got on it. 
i remember feeling completely and utterly alienated
until i spoke to another human and realized everyone felt that way. 
i remember my first bottle of black nail polish, 
covertly bought a week in because the test-run-navyblue from back home was fading off my fingers. 
i remember so many things. 
so many insane, vivid experiences
and so many mundane ones which had acquired a buzzing thrill simply by context.
that i feel this year can never live up to. 
i mean, 
what could? 
i look at myself now
and at myself last year
and know that i have grown since then. 
the girl who feared fending even remotely for herself, 
who considered black nail polish an exciting new reality, 
who lingered like a shadow at pride because she didn't know what to think
is no longer my current reality
but i feel obligated to thank her
for providing me with all these rich memories
and setting the standard for creating more. 

jesus it's been a long time since i posted anything on here. or, actually only about two months but it feels like a while. i've been working on various longterm screenwriting projects, mainly revising shades of scarlett, but obviously i still have fairly current pieces of that up on here so there's not much to post there, although i do have a revised show bible that i'm trying to polish up. i also want to do something with irish mythology, because i'm doing a research deep dive and don't know what to do with information if i don't have a creative purpose for it. i don't know. 20 page research paper? series of short stories retelling lesser known parts of the sagas? music? i really have no idea. probably something eventually. anyways, here's just an expression of the thoughts i've been having approaching the one year anniversary of my month in england. 

Fiona Ella

VT

YWP Alumni

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