Hello, I’m Lottie. For years I’ve been wanting to start a blog. I love writing but have never been confident enough to put my words down for others to read. I am 27 and finally at a place where I feel I can share my thoughts.

I have always been interested in writing, as a child I would take pen and paper and write. I would write about my day, my family, about a blue marble egg I bought in a gift shop in Spain and how this egg would change the characters destiny forever; I would write about World War II, after listening to stories my grandma would tell me. I was fascinated by stories my mum would read to me before bed, I was able to find escape in stories from other worlds.

I remember how important I found keeping diaries. Whenever I would open up birthday presents and see a brand-new journal with a padlock attached to it, I was over the moon. I would keep the keys to the padlocks in a small pink satin trinket box with ‘My Precious Things’ embroidered on the lid. I would write all my secrets and thoughts in these diaries, hiding them every time my older brother would come into my room. Around this age (I would probably say between 8 and 12) the only ‘thoughts’ my precious diary would contain was who I fancied that week and who my best friends were and who in my class I found annoying, but back then they were the most sacred secrets, that only I was able to read. The idea of my brother being able to unlock these journals and see which boy I wanted to be my boyfriend was the worst thing imaginable.

As I got older, I still continued to write my thoughts down. The most memorable diary I kept had a fabric cover with orange and brown vertical stripes, and orange unlined paper. This diary contained thoughts from an eleven-year-old school girl about to move up to high school, dreading every minute of the last week of primary school and having to leave her best friends, truly believing she would never be happy again.

Anxious thoughts of a 12-year-old that was trying to figure out who she was meant to be friends with. Thoughts of a 13-year-old who had discovered boys and going to fancy dress parties dressed as a cat. To 14-year-old me that started going through puberty and went on shopping sprees to Leeds with my friends on the train, who was drinking Smirnoff Ice in the local park. Fifteen-year-old was spin drinking straight vodka and writing about going to house parties and playing spin the bottle. How times have changed.

In my third year of university I started another diary, detailing my final weeks of being a geography student. I would summarise my experiences of being away from home and how I had made friends for life. My anxiety was rather high throughout this period and I had just lost my grandma. I begun writing as therapy. I found an escape in putting pen to paper and talking about how I felt all the emotions I did. It helped. It still does. I have another diary now after finishing that one, one of the same design as the previous. I have an idea of passing these on to my future child or grandchild as some kind of time capsule, a view into recent history.

Whenever I was down or feeling lost in my own head, I would get my diary and just write. I used to be the worst sleeper, I would wake up multiple times in the night and the only thing I could do was write. Once it was down on paper, the thoughts were out of my head.

The current world events and living through history in the making has been one for the books for sure. It’s now 2021 but it feels like 2020 2.0. So this blog has become a place for me to vent, to calm my thoughts, to rationalise and also to share my thoughts in hopes that this can be a place for likeminded folk to find solace knowing they’re not alone.

I’m not an expert in anything really that I discuss but these are my thoughts and my experiences and I hope you can relate.

Love, Lottie x