The Way That I Love

My love is chaotic. It’s a wild, passionate tangle. That tumbling, swooping delight that fills me to the brim and explodes from my fingertips. It’s both of us talking at once, filling the space between us with excitement and laughter and short, sharp bursts of outrage. It’s the fact that after six years, my heart still thumps when he walks through the door. It’s being dragged on tiny adventures when I’d rather lie in bed and cry. It’s pouting and thrashing and lashing out and having someone gently respond, “I love you”.


My love is quiet. It’s a hand gently covering mine as I stare distractedly out of the window. The kiss at the base of my neck as the cup is placed by my side. It’s slow dancing in a freezing square, wearing twenty layers of clothing It’s noses bumping together, hands intertwining. It’s the sound of a page being turned. It’s a body pressed against mine under the cold sheets, pale light trickling beneath the blinds. It’s a whispered secret. And fingers in my hair. It’s pancakes. And soda bread. It’s the scent of jasmine. It’s the knowledge that in all my imperfection, I am enough. And that wherever he is, that’s my home. It’s the smile that tugs at the edge of his mouth when we run out things to say. It’s the perfect circle of freckles on his shoulder. And the kisses that fall like rain.

Love is my dad saying to me, “I’m so proud of you”. Love is dancing like my mum. It’s tearing across a beach with my sister on my back. The sound of ice clinking in a glass. It’s eating chips in our car by the seaside, because it’s too cold to do it outside. It’s old home movies. And terrible, terrible jokes. It’s telling my best friend that I love her, and wondering why I didn’t say it sooner. It’s butterscotch Angel Delight. And strawberry daquiris. And white irises. And the hot, bitter smell of gunpowder at New Years.

Love is my sister running across the playground towards me. It’s the corner of the kitchen where my brother and I learned to be friends. It’s Practical Magic. It’s the Emperor’s New Groove. It’s red lipstick. It’s my granny eating cake mix straight from the bowl. It’s ordering two bottles of wine on a school night because you don’t want to stop talking. It’s the exclamation, “I know exactly what you mean”. Love is realising that it’s not too late. That you still have time. That all you have to do is reach out a hand. It’s lying on the ground, staring up at a sky full of stars.

My love is the crinkles in my eyes when I laugh. My love is the way I tuck my hair behind my ear. And the way I can read until I’m drunk on words. And singing in the shower. My love is the way that I cry when I’m happy. My love is insignificant. My love is undignified. My love is beautiful.

And because of my love, my life is good.

Happy Valentines Day.

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Love Actually Is All Around

Well folks, in the time honoured tradition of Valentine’s Day, this is gonna be a soppy one.

I mean sure, Valentine’s Day is generally bollocks, and the whole idea of forced, plasticy romance makes me sad, but as a big romantic at heart, I can definitely get on board with a day dedicated solely to celebrating the people we love.

So this post is to serve as a great, big, mushy I LOVE YOU to the people who have stuck by me for some inexplicable reason, despite my frequent bouts of insanity and dimness.

The Boy


This guy. He is excellent. He has pretty much saved my whole entire life this year, and continues to tell me that I’m wonderful and beautiful, even when I haven’t brushed my hair in five days, or am openly being a dick to him. If I could send one message back to my 16 year old self, it would probably be: don’t sweat it, you totally end up with an awesome, sexy Irishman who kisses like a champ, carries you to bed when you fall asleep on the sofa and makes the greatest shepherd’s pie known to man. Well done on being magnificent, Niall.

The Girl

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This is the love of my life. Since our eyes met across an empty Halls of Residence corridor four years ago, she has mopped up buckets of tears, made literally hundreds of cups of tea and ran away to Bruges with me, six weeks before our respective dissertations were due. I won’t say she kept me sane…it’d probably be more accurate to say she’s kept me nice and insane. She is ace.

The Partner In Crime


The whole fam are getting a shoutout in a minute (spoilers!), but this little one deserves a spot of her own. Like, I can’t even…my words aren’t good enough. Sophie, you are the absolute bomb and I love you so, so much. Kid, you’ll move mountains.

The Family


I don’t think there’s a photo that has everyone in it, but this is pretty close. My family are literally everything. Every good quality I have is down to them. I know everyone thinks that their family are the greatest, but mine actually are. Totally mental, but undeniably the most wonderful, loving group of people a girl could ask to be thrown in with.

To every single one of these people: you are my soulmates. I love you with all my heart, unconditionally and forever. Happy Valentine’s Day folks, I hope your soulmates are as epic as mine.