I'd love to write a book someday...

It would almost seem tragically pointless for me to write about my life at 17 years old when I haven't even lived yet. I need to have something to write about, some kind of awesome story to tell that's worth sharing in order to provide some kind of insight or drive for people to carry on living through pain or nihilism or any other kind of lack of faith. As a writer, I do feel I can call myself a writer seeing as I am studying the art and creativity of words and also seeing as I'm sat alone in Starbucks drinking a lukewarm Caramel Latte, writing in a notebook to get inspiration, as a writer, I feel pressure to always twist whatever I have to say to be inspirational or even to say something life changing to make people grateful that they read my blog that day, or to justify why they should do so or even to make sure they carry on visiting and reading about an emotional 17 year old.
 I definitely feel like the best version of myself right now. Before I changed schools, I would watch people. I justify this by using the "I'm a writer, I have to watch people for ideas" excuse but really I'm just a bit nosey and insecure. I was so unhappy with myself at 16. I wanted desperately to be like the older and richer girls at my school who always had amazing clothes and makeup. It got so out of hand that I considered blowing all of the money I had religiously been saving to learn to drive on a new iPhone so that I could take HD selfies and upload them to Instagram like these girls did and feel beautiful. I thought that's what I had to do to feel beautiful.
 I have since finished GCSEs and left the school I hated and with that the girls I hated. I got my heart broken and through that summer I busked for money for all of my college requirements and more savings to go towards driving. I made my mum and younger sister come with me on a trip to Birmingham so I could buy nice clothes for college and pretty notebooks etc. If I'm honest, it's because I wanted girls to look at me the way I used to look at other girls. I wanted them to like me - I thought that's what it meant to be liked. I am grateful to my 16 year old self for one thing: when in Birmingham, I fought every urge to turn myself into one of those girls. As a result, completely by accident, I turned into myself. My inner Chloe power was too strong. I came home with clothes that looked like me, in the sense that they suited me and I felt like myself in them. I have heeled boots that click on the floor as I walk and they make me feel tall despite the fact that I'm a little over 5ft and struggle opening some heavy doors. I also came home with more stationary than I could ever need but it makes everyone think I've got my shit together, it's great!
 At secondary school I was so suppressed. Not just by the uniform and the lack of permission we had to be who we really are but by myself and my own insecurity.
 Being at a college to do A Levels is different. I have so much freedom that it makes me do better at my academic work and the activities that make me into myself. Looking back, school was definitely like a prison. Yet here I am, belonging to no institution like I did before. I'm not defined by a uniform or a building, I've been allowed to shape and reshape and flourish, literally in a couple of months. I can go and get coffee in my free periods because that's what I like to do. I can just sit and write for hours and then get graded on it and it's recognised as a talent and a form of intelligence.
 I don't dread waking up in the morning. That's so sad to admit: I used to be in pain waking up each day. In the pit of my stomach was this knot and I just knew I wouldn't have a good day. I actually miss college when I don't have to be there. I miss the people and I miss being able to be the best version of myself.
 When I left school I wrote a post explaining why I wanted to leave and that by leaving I was giving myself "my best chance." And I really have.
 I fell asleep the other night thinking to myself, "I'm actually a pretty cool person." At this point, I have 16.3K followers on instagram. Not because I brought an expensive Iphone and not because I'm making myself into the girls I used to envy, but because I find taking pictures therapeutic. I never post "flawless selfies" because it's not really who I am. I walk around with awesome outfits that didn't cost loads of money but they make me feel good.
 I am confident enough to sit alone in coffee shops and write blog posts and poetry because it clears my head and keeps me sane. I hated being 16. I was never good enough, not for anyone else but for myself. I do feel much older now despite having been 17 for 2 months. I'm really finding myself and I'm loving myself. All of the pieces have just fit back together and the picture is better than ever. I'm getting my lost love back, I'm not so dependent on others. I thought my sudden happiness was due to people coming back into my life but in reality I think it's been here a lot longer than I thought.

 I'd love to write a book about my life someday. I think blogging posts like this are a good way to document my life and struggles so far. I have a lot more to say at 17 than I realised.

Pray For Paris

I'm writing this on my phone. There's been no real drafting or proof reading etc. like I usually do with my posts. I'm not going to write any philosophical answers to the worlds problems as I feel like that would be an insult to the people working hard to restore as much peace as possible and to try to be clever and right in telling people how to pay respects would be rude and innapropriate. What I would like to say is this: as someone who finds it unpleasant and plainly scary to watch the news, I have been, in the worst way, captivated by the headlines oveer the last 24 hours. As a blogger I felt like I had to write something. I experienced genuine fear today I think for the first time in my life. I've had panic attacks but this was different. Sat safe in my home in a separate country to where these attacks took place with my family safe around me, I felt fear. Partly because I'm not stupid and I know Britain could well be next on the list but more so for people that I've never even met. Reading stories of how people pretended to be dead next to the bodies of their loved ones. That's fucking terrifying. I've been to concerts with my boyfriend. That could easily have been us if they had chosen a different target. I was about to turn 3 when 9/11 happened and today I selfishly thanked my stars that I was so young because I dread to think of the fear the world experienced that day. It's tragic that it takes times like these to unite us but it's ironically beautiful to see: people comforting strangers, crying for lives they may never meet, feeling relief over survivors whose faces flash on a tv screen never to be seen by our eyes again. Whatever happens as a result of this senseless tragedy cannot change the one thing we gain which is our unity and I hope we can hold onto that. 

 Stay safe and stay united, these people thrive off of fear and isolation. If you find comfort in praying then pray, if you feel helpless and like all you have to offer is changing your facebook picture to one of French colours then do so. The one thing all of our gestures have in common is that Paris is in our thoughts and that is important. Instead of critisising how others pay respects, pehaps we should realise that we need to stand together in every possible way, including how we discuss this tragedy online. 

 My thoughts are with the ones left in the turmoil, with the lives cut too short and my respect goes out to all who have been touched in a way in which makes us stronger as a nation. In a world of war it's up to us to show them love.

Autumn

The last six months have been some of the hardest, most painful of my life so far. I didn't ever consider what I would do should a reach a point like this in my life; I didn't know it was even possible to feel the way I have felt. I have written about it and processed it in my own way but as the life drained from the tips of the trees leaving crisp, auburn and burning colour, something shifted. Perhaps only pathetic fallacy, but the colours and beauty and magic seemed to awaken this simple idea within my own mind and imagination. It was this idea of new beginnings, of cycles and patterns; not of endings but of changes. So much has changed, it's still changing; my attitudes, my habits and thought processes. I am still myself but I am different, just as the bare trees are still the same ones that once were bursting at the tips of their branches with life, hope, science and colour. I don't chase things that are moving too quickly. I don't force myself into shapes that I know I can't fit into. I've become a version of myself that I love more than ever before. No one can love you like you love yourself. It isn't a form of vanity or arrogance but confidence and inner strength and respect. The worst part wasn't losing someone else, but losing me; it was written all over me, in the way I moved and the way I spoke. I felt as though everyone could see it, that I was heartbroken. It was like they were looking at me waiting for me to fall to pieces at their feet.They looked at me with pity, not sympathy. Yet I pulled myself back and now I just feel clean. 

 Music has helped heal me so many times before, not just the beauty of it and the art behind it but more so the words and the way of story telling. I've made myself listen to Clean by Taylor Swift every day for the last six months. One of the most powerful lyrics I've ever heard is "Just because you're clean, don't mean you don't miss it." That told me that it was okay, being in pain was okay. I wasn't taking steps back every time I thought of him, it was all part of the process. I knew it was alright to want to cry and to feel like the life was just draining out of me just like the ghosts and skeletons of the summer left outside waiting to be revived in the spring time. My colours faded but they will come back. I can still feel the pain and the anger like the burnt orange leaves at my feet - but it isn't a part of me anymore. I feel like it's a complete separate thing. It's fallen off of me and I can leave it behind now even if I can still see it in my rear view mirror. It doesn't define me anymore. I am wiser. I am stronger. I am still breathing and even if I feel bare and numb and empty, I have a purpose and a future. I will grow new leaves once I can get through a cold, bitter winter and I could even love new people. I can be exactly who I want to be and I can do it for myself. I don't need to be anything for anyone else. I think I am finally clean. 
 This post is mainly pictures because I've found taking photographs to be fairly therapeutic especially when outside is looking so colourful. I hope you can find comfort in everyday things and learn to appreciate what you have as opposed to longing for what you don't.