To my friends

National Friendship day & I thought I write to my friends.


To my friends I never thought I have, I am so lucky to have you.

I always new friends were what makes life great, but I seemed to never find the right ones. Until I met you. The moment we met, that one thing that bonded us together weather it was a night out, a scarf, me saying “hi” to you, a topic of conversation or fact we were roommates; it is was the start of our friendship. Those random moments were you let us sit down and we were friends by the end of the night. The friends that made me feel wanted like the time I was in my room and I got a message from you to come on over to watch Iron Man. To the girls I could talk to about anything, texting you none stop about the random things and the OMG moments. When I mention “the bus guy” you know which guy I am talking about. You know everything. The time I needed you the most, to just be distracted, to not talk about anything, to let me sit in silence, giving me a floor to sleep on when I was too drunk to go home. The spins around dancing and sining, welcoming me in your already formed group, creating life time of memories. Teaching me how to put on tan, doing my make up before I was going to have to talk to a boy. Me running to you after I talk to a boy. Giving me advise and vis versa.  To the road trips we had and the long talks in the car, you were the one that listen. And even if we weren’t that close of friends, we were still friends. Saying hi to me in passing, calling me Yank because that was our thing. If I was sitting by myself you wouldn’t ignore you would say hi. That despite the sexual tension or the history of who kissed who we were still could hang out, meet at the coffee shop, text every once in awhile, sit in my bedroom watching a movie chit chatting about our winter holidays. Commenting on pictures, have a little conversation that even though we only met once and weren’t definition of friendship we were friends. On a night out, you didn’t allow me to join, it just happen because we were friends and that’s what friends do. They see each other and end up having the bants and a great night out together. They tease each other, they have inside jokes.  The friends you never thought would happen, on Twitter, on social media, turns out you can be friends.  You are the ones can get on with, the ones were it is so easy to just be me around you with not hesitation, no worry, no problem. A friend you can hang out with, even the opposite sex. A friend whom might not even know it but means the world to you, because of that one night.

There is not explanation, even if I could, there are only those moments that explain it. Sitting in a beer garden with a couple of beers, chit chatting as you say “we be lucky to have you” to when all my friends I went out with went home and I felt find staying with you guys because we were friends and I never had that before, to the ones you can share a bathroom stall with. There are some bad times that is for sure but we don’t hold them agents each other, we ride them out, we talk them out, we get it because we know each other. We can get mad because we are human and we can’t always be nice. And that’s what makes a friendship. The tears down our faces shows what we really mean to each other. The distance never changed anything, the time apart never broke us, we were still wanting the best for each other, we were still there wandering about each other. We are still friends.

I never needed a group of friends, I only needed friends. And I have many, from high school lifers, to east coaster’s, to the house 44, to the village, to the boy down the road (it rhymed), to the lads who make me laugh, to the instant friends , to the guys, to my gang of friends, to pooh bear, to my college buds, to my “she doesn’t know but we are friends”, to my Food buddies, to my BFF, to my love. To the people I call friends–once your friend with me, we are friends for life.

Your Friend,13329358_10154052280143463_5138318605233107289_o





Flash Fiction: Loving a wild and complicated woman

If you don’t follow me on Facebook or instagram you might not know I’m working on a project and you should then follow me so then you will get to see all the happens of my so called life and this project that the other day I wanted to delete and never write again. Because of that feeling I’m sharing a flash fiction piece I wrote that will be in the book. I’m really trying to keep creative writing more on social media other then the blog and write more creative thoughtful pieces instead–which this can be both really. 

Loving a wild and complicated woman


We are wild and complicated women. We are the women who can not be easily defined for we have so many interests and passion in our eyes. We are everywhere but we can’t be seen. We are only recognizes by our walk into a room. Letting you know we are the women of nature who will not only cause chaos but calm the waves of the ocean. You can not reset us.

You’ll love us and it will be difficult. Because our minds are filled with thoughts and imagination. We’re never losing our sense of wonder.  We find home and love in the places and people we cross paths with.  But we lose ourselves in the details of the world; in the sounds of the ocean, on a crispy fall day when the leaves change, watching the snow fall onto the car window and in the moonlight.

We believe we do not belong in cages we have our wings on our backs that need to soar. We thrive and live by chaos and the unconventional ways. We want to feel safe with you but we don’t want you to hold our hands. We want to kiss you when and wherever we want but we don’t want you to hold us back. We want to go dancing on the dance floor and you to watch us from the side, wishing for us to love you back. We want you to want us and you will because we are the wild and complicated women you can not resist.   

Told that women like us are too much of everything, but you love us cause of that. We can’t be handled nor do we want to be. However, if you can handle us then you will have us, for the rest of your life. We want to love and affection, we want to support, we want respect. The world wants to define us but we define ourselves. We are wild and complicated women who have never been so vibrant in a world that badly wants structure and order. We are wild and complicated women who won’t be tamed. And you love us anyways.


Flash Fiction: Spinning Around

First Published in the Quarryman 2016, Volume 2

UntitledWe sit in the middle of the village, Ballyclare, a place so small everyone is related. We were in Fiona’s car, she in the driver’s seat talking about the day’s gossip. Julia in the front seat with her head out the window smoking a fag because if she got any smoke in the car Fiona will kill her; but I felt still getting into my lungs.

I’m in the back seat twiddling my thumbs, thinking how I could go home and read my brother’s paper. I also need  a shower. And by the time one of us decide to head home it would be ten o’clock, too late to take a shower, which meant I have to wake up early.

“What is the plan girls?” Fiona ask.

“Why don’t we go to the chipper and get some shakes?” I suggest.

“No, I have no money,” Julia said puffing away.

There really is no winning, it is always the same thing. We sit in the middle of town doing what we’ve been doing and and then when we grew sick of sitting, we do a quick spin around the loop.

My life had not always been like this. I went to college, I had a boyfriend from Germany, who before leaving to go back home wanted me to go with him to Germany for the summer. I had been nearly at the airport when my brother rang me about our mother once again. We still talk, after all these years apart, he still tempts me with a ticket. And I always say no.

Now, I wait tables every day. I come home to a mother who spends her days in bed, not sleeping, but gazing at the window, wishing for him to walk in the door. Plus, my younger brother couldn’t handle he needed someone there. I’ve been doing in for last two years.

Fiona stop the car by the pier, turning on the brights so we could see the waves; there were none.

“Let’s go skinny dipping?” I jokingly suggested.

“Too cold like,” Fiona said.

Julia lit up another one.

The girls did not know about my German boyfriend. No one knew. I always thought about telling them but I knew what they say: What about my brother? What about my mum? She isn’t getting any better.

Everyone who leaves always comes back. I came back because my brother needed me. B he’s seventeen. He’s not the little fourteen year-old who need’s his sister. He was going to leave. He’s always saying” “Once I turn eighteen. I’ll be gone.”

 That was 4 months away and then I have no priorities left. I pull out my phone and risk a text.  I know I’ll miss them, my girls, our spins around the village.

Fiona drop me off at my house. I saw my brother’s finish paper on the table. He did not need me to read it, but I took it anyway for one last look through. As I got into my bed  ready to read my brother’s paper, my phone went off. I looked at it;I got you a ticket.

The Girl that is letting herself go (plus OTTD)

This is a creative thoughtful post- I’ve done these before and I like them. But to mix it up I added a little OTTD to go along with it. 

Processed with VSCO with hb1 preset

You do not exist anymore and I’m letting myself go.

 Looking back I wonder what girl was I to you. The girl you spent a few nights with. The  girl who you spent  months with road tripping. Knowing who you were and who I was with you. The conversations we had, the nights we spend together. Was I the girl I thought I was to you.

The girl who was your best friend. The girl you to talk to at the end of the night. The girl who let you be whoever you wanted to be. Let you go off with your friends; she wouldn’t care. The girl you adored. The girl who only wanted your company but that was too much to ask. I wasn’t that girl to you.

But, you weren’t the guy either. The guy that gave reassurance and confidence, saying “fuck them” when I couldn’t.  The guy I felt like me around you. A guy where I didn’t think twice about how to act around. A proud man for you got that girl that every guy could have had. A78D585F-9D3F-4219-82A8-7D5F616676C4FC2A6896-3B81-4267-BB36-535E8C1CC16C

You lost that girl. You lost her when you walked right out at 3am like it was that easy. You lost her the minute you decided to call her up to talk for hours, making her feel like you were back. But then you turned around and gave her the thumbs up. You lost her the minute you decided she was not worth the fight. You lost her when you made her feel so damn worthless.  You lost her when she realize she shouldn’t be treated like that. I’m that girl.E64E4B54-8C3A-434A-96BB-C35903F0DF67 (1)

I’m that girl and it’s the girl you could never had. I’m done missing the guy you never were. Because to be the guy you were to me, I had to be that girl to you. So I’m letting myself go from you, from all of you.  You do not exist anymore and I’m letting myself go.

Because, I’m not that girl, anymore.

Processed with VSCO with hb2 presetOutfit details:

Jumper: Zara (months old)

Jeans: Topshop (Jamie Jeans)

Fish tights: Pennys

Booties: Nostrums

necklace: forever 21 (years ago)

Hair: Lo’real colour-purple

Let me know if you liked it below. 

Short Story: That Time in Spring


A short story. Jay is in his last year of college, he knows what he has to do. But then he meets Charlie and maybe he doesn’t have to do what he has to do instead he could go to America. 


The spring semester was getting started and the end of college was near. We were a bunch of kids in our twenties with empty cans in our windows. We were partying every other night; reality had not hit our house yet.

I was with my friends Seamus and Peter standing outside a house where we had seen girls dancing in the window. A brown-haired girl answered. The guys were trying to get themselves into the party. I stood back looking in when I saw her coming down the stairs.

“Hey,” she said coming to stand by her friends.

Her friend told her to go to the kitchen. I followed her and Seamus and Peter followed behind. The brown haired girl did not stop us, since she was eyeing Seamus. He was a tall charmer with looks to match.  I on the other hand was considered the nice guy. I was the guy who would make sure my friends were all right. I cared, that was my problem.

She was sitting on the floor in the kitchen corner. I went over to this girl who I knew nothing about and took a chance.

“Hey, I’m Jay,” I said sitting in the chair beside her.

“I’m Charlie,” she said.

I leaned down to her. “You all right?”

Grand, I just want to sit in a corner.”

“I don’t judge.”

“Good, a lot of people judge. This is our first time meeting, right?”

“I live across from your house – we probably crossed paths a few times.”

“Probably did. Surprised you didn’t catch my eye.” She looked at me. “I’m doing design so I’m always in the Foundation Building. You’re not in there, are you?”

“No. I’m not.”

“Tell me about yourself, Jay,” Charlie said sitting up.

“Nothing to tell.”

She eyed me.

“I’m studying business and economics. It’s the fourth year so I’ll be crazy with the F.Y.P and all, but it’s good craic.”

“I bet that none of the things you are doing are what you want to do. But you know what you are supposed to do, right?

“Why do you think that?” I asked.

“Because everyone at this age feels that way. I mean, I do anyway. We know what we are supposed to do,” she said getting up, “but not what we want to do.” She walked away.

I wasn’t angry but afraid she was right. It was like when I gave up track. I was fast as a cheetah but stopped when I got to college. It was just the four of us, mum, dad and my little brother,Kaenan. We lived on mum’s family farm, a farm I was going to inherit.

I got up and went over to Charlie knowing I’d come across as a fool to her. She knew the game, and knew how to play it to her advantage. And I was willing to be played by her.


4 weeks later

We sat on a campus bench outside one of the college’s main buildings. The sun was out, a rarity in Ireland. Charlie had her face to the sky, eyes closed. She wore a crop top revealing a tattoo that read “She Flies With Her Own Wings” in Latin. I’ve seen this tattoo a few times on our foolish meaningless night together. We were just friends, but I wanted more.

“Are you going to J-term?” she asked me sitting with her legs towards mine, our knees touching.

“I don’t know if I will.”

“You should join me in Chicago.”

It seemed the world was at her feet, and I knew I could never have her – not even for a minute.  But she didn’t make me feel like that. She made me realize that there was more to me than what I felt.

“I’ll have to see.” I said

“Well a at least join me tonight at Stables,” she said, smiling.

“I can definitely do that.” She stood up taking my hand as we headed to the library together.


We were in Peter’s room sitting on his bed, listening to music and drinking. The two of us had been friends since our first year. Seamus was my housemate and Peter lived across from us.  We stayed friends all three years and now we had one last year to take the piss out of each other, to live together, to drink together. Then, who knew what would happen. Seamus would stay in Ireland, for sure. Peter said he wanted to go to Australia. I’d probably stick around.

“Jay, your girl’s outside,” Peter said.

“What?” I asked as he opened the window. “What are you doing?”

“He wants to know where he’ll be meeting you,” Peter shouted down to her.

“Peter, you tell Jay if he wants me he has to find me,” she called back.


Charlie pulled me away from my friends into the courtyard. We sat on top of the picnic table under a blinking light. She twisted her hair while she talked. I couldn’t stop looking at or listening to her.

“You’re something,” I told her.

“Thanks,” she said pulling herself close to me. “I know I can be little all over the place.”

“No, not at all,” I said taking her hands as I kissed her. I could feel myself falling for her as we headed back to my place.


We woke from a knock on my bedroom window. It was Peter; he needed to get in. “Fuck’s sake, Peter – go around!”

“I don’t have a key!” he shouted. I got up and let him through my window. He winked at me and whispered, “Way to go.”

I crawled into bed and looked at my bedside clock. I had to catch a bus back home in two hours

“You all right?” I asked.

“I always liked design, but I am clueless. Everyone else seems to have a better grasp of what is going on. I know you think I’m perfect, Jay,  but I’m so not. And I want to make sure you know that so when you do find out, you won’t be disappointed.”

“I’m not disappointed,” I told her.

“Okay,” she said.

“I’m not disappointed,” I told her again, kissing her while pulling her closer to me, I wasn’t letting go.


I got to the house. My brother was nowhere to be seen. Mom worked at the local pharmacy. She was the only woman I knew who was always sweet. But she had one flaw – she ignored the truth. Dad, on the other hand, was always working on his motorcycles. Nothing else seemed more important to him than those bikes. He hardly ever came in the house.  I think mom preferred it that way. Like she preferred having Kaenan in town and me home on the weekends.

“Where’s Kaenan?” I asked mom as I set my bags down by the door.

“He’s at training, I think. Maybe you could pick him up before you get your dad?”

“Is he at the pub?” I asked, even though I already knew he was. “I don’t think Kaenan would be happy to wait around for him?”

“Right, I’ll text him and tell him to just stay wherever he is.”


“You want something to eat?” she said walking away into the kitchen.

My brother was 15. He was always in the village. I didn’t blame him; the house was always too quiet.

Get home you punk, I texted.

I’m with Aisling, he texted back. I let him off.

I went to pick dad up. The smell of whisky was overpowering. He only drank on weekends. Mom said it was just stress. But it wasn’t stress that caused Kaenan to never be home. It wasn’t because of the alcohol that mum was always going to bed before him. And none of it was why I had to come home every weekend and be reminded that if I came back, dad would be better. None of it was the reason for his behaviour.

“How’s college?” he asked as I drove off.

“Fine,” I said. My phone rang. Charlie. I told her to call me when she got back from her night out with her housemates. I didn’t want him to overhear our conversation. I saw his eyes look down.

“Who’s the bird?” he asked.

“Her name’s Charlie.”

“Where’s she from?”

“Galway. Her mom’s American.”

“Oh I see….she’s here to find an Irish man like the rest of them, huh?”

“She’s Irish.”

“Listen…” he said, “Girls like that will use you; they’ll show you a life you can’t have. Your priority is to this family. You understand me?”

I gripped the steering wheel, what was his right in telling me, he’s the father, the man of the house. Always working on his motorcycles.

“Okay,” I said.

I lay in my bed looking at my phone. I wanted to call her. I didn’t know what to say, being home reminded me for the fact that I was the fool. However, she was showing me a life that I wanted.

“Hey babe,” I said into the phone.


Three weeks later.

I was sleeping on the couch. My room was being used by my cousin. I was texting Charlie, who was out at a pub with friends. We were sending pictures to each other. She sent one with her looking great in a dark red dress blowing me a kiss. I sent her one of me just lying there only in my boxers. Looks like I’m missing something.  I wanted her there with me.

The front door opened and I quickly rolled over like I was sleeping. Dad was coming in from working on his bike. He walked right by me. I could smell beer from him.  He went to the kitchen. Mom was in there trying to get everything clean. I could barely hear. Dad’s voice was low. Mom was saying something calmly, in the same way she dealt with unhappy customers. Something wasn’t right.

As I walked into the kitchen I saw him slapping her across the face. Without thinking I ran right into him, pushing him away from her with my right fist in the air.


“Jay,” I heard my mother whisper. It was morning and I couldn’t remember if any of it had actually happened. My knuckles were bruised. I sat up and mom was standing on the other side of the room, her fingers to her lips gesturing from me to come. Her face was badly bruised.

“Come on let’s get you back to school,” she said. I didn’t say anything I just looked at my beaten up knuckles.

She drove me all the way back to school. We didn’t talk until she pulled up behind my house. I had never seen her with such sadness in her eyes.

“Your father is just worked up; that’s all. And I know you are too but let’s get past this, okay? Focus on your finals and then this summer you’ll be home and everything will be good.”

I didn’t know what to say except “I love you.”

I walked to my house. I turned to look at house 44 and up to Charlie’s window. I could see her reflection. I didn’t call over. Instead, I texted her, apologizing for how I couldn’t be there for her anymore. She didn’t reply. I knew she was used to this but if she only knew how my father was a drunk, my mom was helpless, and my brother was hiding from it all, she might have understood. I wish I could have told her I had to help out because, like mom said, then everything would be better at home.

Charlie made me see a life that was different to the one I had – but, like I knew the day I met her, that life was never going to be mine.



This is a story I have had worked on for years and it has changed a lot, it was a flash fiction story in the UCC express Byline last year but this is a longer version of it. Thank you for reading, if you like hit like 🙂 Letting me know  ❤ 

Short Story: Subway Anxiety

Subway Anxiety


Haley stood on the platform waiting for the subway. It was going to be a twenty minute wait since she missed the last train. Usually she wouldn’t mind waiting around, not today. Today all she wanted was to get home and hide under her covers.

Today was a really bad day, she texted her sister, hoping that she’d be able to talk.

Haley was diagnosed with ADHD at age 6. Attention deficit, hyperactivity disorder symptoms included hyperactivity, an inability to focus, depression, and anxiety. Growing up she had no control over her thoughts, her attention, and an overactive imagination. At 22 Haley thought she finally had control of herself, but today she was once again faced with the fact that there was no escaping from it, no matter how hard she tried.

Haley moved to the city right after college, right into this new job. It was her first experience in the real world. She began working at the small advertising company a couple of months ago. No one there knew that Haley worked differently.  She walked around in her Steve Madden booties, hair tied up in a bouncy ponytail, holding her vanilla latte, acting like she was normal, like everyone else around her, except she wasn’t. On the outside she was perfect but there was darkness inside her.

If Haley said she needed to take a break, or to have the directions written down and explained, people would ask her why. Despite her struggles, she was dedicated to doing well because it was her first big opportunity to prove herself. She didn’t have to just sit at a computer, answer e-mails and do whatever was put on her desk. This was her time to shine.

A few months ago Haley got the position to be the head organizational leader for their newest client.

“You’re the most organized person I know Haley,” her boss told her, referring to the post-its all over her desk.

“Oh thank you so much, Jeff.” she responded.

“We are expecting big things from you,” he told her.

“Great,” she said smiling, except there was a knot in her stomach.

But when she would walk in the office, latte in her hand, smiling and saying hi to everyone she passed she felt like she was playing dress up. She was pretending to be a responsible working girl, not Haley, a girl who had this darkness wanting to come out.

What happened? Her sister finally texted her back.

I’m going to get fired. I just know it. Haley began to text, her hands moving fast and saying everything she needed to say, not caring about misspelled words. She knew that even if her text was jarbled her sister still would be able to interpret it. I’m not going to make the deadline. And I’m trying really hard but I’m just feeling no matter what I do it’s not working.  I have a week, which is good. But, the IT guy never answers my questions and if he does it makes no sense. He makes me feel dumb. The graphic designer is out for holiday. I’m trying, I’m really trying but…it’s not happening!


The whole day Haley could not cope, she had post-its all over her desk, writing down everything that came to her head. She drank coffee past 1:30; that wasn’t good for her, but she did it anyways. Haley was reaching her point of exhaustion. But it wasn’t only work she had going on. To top it off she spent the whole day worried that she left the oven on, and her mom wouldn’t stop e-mailing her or texting her about this weekend’s get together. Something she really was not looking forward to.  And when someone set a pile of work on her desk after lunch she knew she needed to go.

She had this little tick scratching her head behind her ears- that was the first sign. Not wanting Ryan, the cute mail boy, to see her she quickly left without him, something she usually didn’t do. She usually would  time  it perfectly to walk right out with him. They would meet at the elevator doors.

“Hi Ryan,” she said smiling nicely.

“How are we today Haley?”

“Good, did you have a good weekend?”

“Yeah I did.  I was going to my friends house for the football game, well it turned to be a night out.”

“Was it fun?”

“Yeah it was. Did you have a fun weekend?”

“Kind of but I really didn’t do much,” she said. Her weekends were spent in her apartment with her dog, doing laundry and getting ready for Monday, so when she walked in she would feel she was on the same level as everyone else.

Ryan was a nice guy, he was the kind of guy that rarely ever talked about much, he mumbled a lot of the time, but he cared. Haley liked that he really didn’t seem like the kind of guy to work in the office, he had that working in a garage or with cars vibe about him, sleeves always rolled up, looking completely off in a blazer. But he worked here because it paid well and he needed the money. There wasn’t anything going on between Ryan and her, she new that. But the other day he kind of asked her out, but not really.

“You ever go out Haley?”

“Not really, I usually stay pretty chill.”

“You know you should come out with us?”

“Oh,” Haley answered stuttering nervously, “it depends really, when and where. I live far from here; I’ve got to take the subway.”

“Do you live by yourself?”

“I have a dog. His name’s Woody, a Newfoundland.”

“Very cool. You should come out. It would be fun to have you out of work mode, you’re so studious…it’s a good thing of course.”

“Thanks though.” she said feeling like she just told him no even though she wanted to say yes, but she didn’t know if it would be a good idea. Haley had had one boy friend, but it was a teenage love affair that ended quickly when he decided he wanted to date Molly Madison. He then decided to start a rumor that Haley was obsessed with him and had psychotic outbursts at him. This wasn’t true, but people believed him anyway since she was known to end up in the nurse’s office from anxiety attacks.

Haley didn’t want Ryan to think she was crazy or psychotic. And if Ryan saw her in mid ticks he may think that. Or worse ask her what was wrong. She wouldn’t know what to say because how could you explain something you didn’t understand yourself? So she quickly rushed out to catch the subway, that she missed by a minute.


Haley looked at her phone, her sister wasn’t texting her back, which was fine but now Haley was left standing waiting for the subway on her own. She began to itch behind her ear like a dog. She thought about her job, worrying about sending an e-mail to the client about the project without double checking it for any spelling mistakes. She thought about Ryan and how if he saw her acting like this, he would think twice about asking her out. She thought about all the things she didn’t do before leaving.

The platform began to fill. A man came to stand about an inch away from her, like there was no other room but where she was. That irritated her more, couldn’t the man see she really couldn’t handle being near people? More and more people started to come around her and Haley began to feel trapped. There was a lump in her chest that kept growing. She couldn’t shake what was happening to her. Haley kept on thinking about how the conversation would go with her boss when she’d tell him that they wouldn’t be ready for the meeting. She thought about her parent’s faces when she told them she couldn’t make rent because she got fired.  Haley began to think more and more, piling more things onto her self. She was pulling herself further in and she soon wouldn’t be able to get out.

Trying to calm herself down she began telling her self what she would do:

I’ll go home. Take off my clothes, put on my shorts; just dump everything. Grab something quick to eat, that way I’ll have something in my stomach. I probably need to charge my phone; it’ll die by the time I get back. I’ll feed the dog and then we will go on a walk. And if I go on the walk I won’t think about anything, I’ll focus on something else.  And when we get back I’ll make dinner, watch some TV show as I plan out tomorrow.


A rush of wind hit her as the subway car went speeding by, tossing her blond hair across her face. She couldn’t stop, no matter how many times she told herself, it didn’t help. Nothing was helping, her hands were shaking, she couldn’t sit; she couldn’t stand. The darkness was building and Haley could feel nothing and everything all at once.


She was breathing heavily, looking down at her feet. It had been four years since her last major panic attack. Haley only got this bad on certain occasions, there were moments that were easy to handle and unnoticeable. Like when she had to drive her car and deal with other drivers or when she was at the Ed Sheeran concert, stuck in one place surrounded by a crowd of people, getting pushed by rude people trying to get to the front of the stage. She had to look up to the sky just to get her self back. Distractions helped but when there was no distraction, nothing would work – that’s when the hurricane hit.

The doors opened and everyone on the platform walked like a herd into the small little door, forcing Haley into the middle of it all. She moved around the people, all who were more annoyed by the ridiculousness of 5 o’clock rush hour on the subway, except it wasn’t 5 o’cock. It was only 3 so why was it rush hour already. Haley went to stand by the side of the door, forcing herself into a corner.

Her left arm began to shake; she felt tears forming. Her breathing was getting heavier and heavier. Everything she was wearing started to irritate her, she pulled at her clothes wanting to tear them off. She wanted to take sizzors to her hair, too. She felt scared but she knew wasn’t actually scared. She eyed her reflection in the subway window, she looked normal like she was just crying over a break up or some other normal thing.

She could feel eyes on her and at the same time a stranger asked her “are you alright?”

She nodded, “yeah I am fine.”

The entire journey  Haley tried to calm her self by blasting her music to muffle the sounds, but she could still hear them clearly. She tried texting her best friends, telling them how she was feeling, but no one was answering. She searched on Pinterest for some inspirational quote to give her hope, but it all was bullshit.


How embarrassing, she thought as she got off the subway. There she was an average girl, around average height, with an average job-her dream job at that, doing average things just trying to get by. But to everyone that saw her today, she was the wacky girl who was having an anxiety attack on the subway. If only they knew what was going on in her head.


Haley still had about a five minute walk back to her place, thankfully she lived in a quiet area where the only loud noise was kids playing on the sidewalks. As she walked she listened to her music, trying to escape her own thoughts. Haley never felt like herself when she got like this. She felt like she was drowning in a storm, even though she knew how to swim. For once in her life she just wanted to have some sort of control over it, to not feel this way. She wanted to be able to focus and handle her anxieties. Instead of letting the wave of emotions, fears, thoughts get the best of her. She wanted to be able to handle work, to not feel like she was giving excuses, to not worry about the small things. She wanted to be able to have relationships, maybe with Ryan. For once she didn’t want to feel she had to escape but handle what life put on her.


Later in the evening, when everything was calm and she was tired from the stress of the day, she took her dog for a walk. She thought sitting in the house wouldn’t be the best idea. There was something soothing about walking down the streets in the city right before the sunset that gave her reassurance. Haley would walk the streets watching everything around her, like she was being acquainted with the night. But unlike Robert Frost she found comfort in the loneliness. Everything came and went as it pleased but Haley always found herself at the end of the storm.




Thank you for taking the time to read my story. This is the first story I share on my blog so let me know what you think in the comments below. Also I am going to post words and pictures on the facebook page because it’s something I like to do and if your anything like me I love finding those kind of things and connection to them.  If your not following A City Girl story follow on facebook, Instagram and bloglovin.

Flash Fiction: Feeling too much

F E E L I N G   T O O  M U C H


Feeling too much by the  weight of the world and the touch of everyone you meet. You’re not emotional. You’re caring with such a big heart, everything is important and nothing is little. There is passion and love burning inside of you, driving you and breaking you down. You feel sorry for the stranger on the street. You’re affected by the stories you see on the TV and read. There so much around you and you feel it all.

 It’s a curse to feeling too much. You break down. You try to keep going but you can’t–it’s too heavy, wondering, how can others not feel this weight, this heaviness? How do they keep going? How do they keep fighting, how are they able to let it all go?

You are an angel with wild wings not everyone can love and care as hard as you.

To stop feeling so heavy and to stop caring would be so easy if you were someone else. You’d be able to write again, not feel so overwhelmed, and you’d be able to create, letting go of the things you should have let go of a long time ago. But, you can’t because you are someone who feels and that isn’t a bad thing, it’s a gift.

0FF84F6A-8335-4332-84D2-250FF12CC2A3.jpgFeeling too much is a rare thing to have. Most people don’t care at all, and the frustration in that is what drives you mad. You wish they cared, that they understood, and would feel what you feel. And you would stop feeling hurt and broken by it. You’re the one with passion in the eyes refusing to cave or give up. You love the hardest. Others can feel what you feel and people want you because you are someone who makes them feel.


You don’t care what people think; you care for who they are.

There reaches a point of not feeling anymore because for as much as you feel there can be a point when there is too much so you can’t care anymore. You can’t handle it any longer. That point isn’t where you give up, it’s when you are burning inside even more. Because even though you feel drained you are able to stand up and speak. You are able to finally say “I care and I love you but I’m done with you.”