Coastal Girl to City Girl

Mirror.   Fearfully I look into the mirror Behind the dust tells my story Do I want to continue looking My father looks back short and stocky My Mothers tallness and skinny physique My Sister with her black hair and sparkling blue eyes All I see is eyes full of hurt Past piercing on my lobes, holes still showing My face shape unbeknown to me The blonde hair, my prized possession,  A kind sweet smile just like my Nan, I realise Genes affect me in every way I keep looking trying to see what face appears As I dim the lights I see two faces Mine now and the face of my past.

  Confrontation. I do not like confrontation. I can’t stand it & the only way I deal with awkward situations is to start giggling or to crack a joke. I never used to be like this. I would stand up to anyone anytime; it was part of my job & the job environment I was in. But over the years I’ve lost the need to stand up to people. I will argue my point to people but if it gets too OTT then I will bail out. I have no idea where this bail out has come from or when it developed but I think it stems from getting too tried arguing with members of my family. It got to a point where I thought why the hell am I doing this, there’s no point as it never changes anything anyways. Yet when someone ‘picks’ on a member of my family I will growl like a lioness & protect them. I had to do that a few months back with someone who was rude & disrespectful of a family member & they didn’t understand what they had done wrong & they believed everyone else wa

I went to a psychic night the other evening. Now I do believe in these kinds of things but for some reason I held some reserve back for that evening. When I arrived with my sister in law, her friend & my husband we discovered the lady was running late having only just arrived – an hour later than planned – so we had to sit & wait….& obviously consume a couple of drinks! Finally we were called one by one. Our friend went first out of us all & we sat there imagining what could be said to each of us individually. Then it was my turn to go in. I was expecting to go through perhaps some black or dark blue curtain type hanging thing, to come across some low lighting or even some scented candles but instead I got something completely different… The pool room of a pub, behind some MDF ply wood boards on wheels, the lady sat at a pub table – a small round one – with an empty ½ pint lager glass next to her tarot cards. The area was brightly lit & felt ve