Never be anything other than who you want to be

Who are you to judge how much of someone’s body that they decide to show? Who are you to decide whether that person is then a ‘slut’? 

I know so many people who look amazing and beautiful in their photos but are too scared to post them because they’re worried that people will judge them.

For an all inclusive society, we’re sure doing a lot of judging.

People can post what they like, as they like. It does not then make them promiscuous or inappropriate. Yes, I get it when a photo is indecent exposure. Yes, I get it when that someone who is very young is posing in an inappropriate manner, the parents have the right to ask them to take it down.

But I think, after the amount of terrifying prep school movies we were made to watch about cyberstalkers, we get how to private our accounts and we understand that what is put on the internet stays there,

So who are you to judge?

My friend and I were talking about it, and she said, ‘if a guy posts a topless pic, no one cares. The second a girl does it it’s all this drama’ and she is so right. This isn’t a rant about feminism, no that’s coming later. The point is,

People should be allowed to post what they’d like without the worry of being judged.

People should be allowed to dress as they’d like without assumptions.

People should be allowed to be who they are on their own social media page.

the photo attached, well can you really disagree? People shouldn’t be judged or have assumptions made on how they dress. Or what they post of how they dress. People shouldn’t be afraid of being exactly who they want to be. I know there have been countless occasions where I’ve got a friend asking whether they should post a photo because they’re scared of being judged or people thinking that they’re a slut. In fact, just tonight (the night I’m writing this, not the night I’m posting it) I had a panicked text from one of the least ‘slutty’ people I know, word for word, saying ‘do I need to delete my last pic on insta because there were some people like ‘wow’ and judging me, should I delete it? xxx’

To finish today’s blog I’ll write my exact reply, ‘no, no, no. you look so good and if you like the photo there is no reason to take it down. People are always going to judge, but you need to remember that no matter what anyone else may say, you need to do what you want to’

Love, Hea xx

Guess who’s back!

Everyone, Hea has returned!

I was giving myself a bit of time to adjust to school and relax at the end of the holidays, but I missed writing this too much and right now have the silliest, most massive grin on my face.

so, although I have so much to tell you, I’ll start with a poem.

I was asked to write about my identity. We looked at still I rise by Maya Angelou, and based our off it and, I don’t know, I guess I felt like a bit of sass.

I’m so happy to be back, back and here to stay : )

so here goes

A Damn Loud Scream


Look me in my eyes I dare you, stare right into them deep-

Memorize the shadow as my lashes brush my cheek,

Notice golden specs magnetized in to the black,

If you do look hard enough you may just see the cracks,

But if you want, sweep them under the rug, keep me nice and neat,

Since girls should be seen not heard- remain all good and sweet.


Hear me sigh, and hear me moan,

In complaint- not alone

Not wondering what my fingers do in the dark,

Not wondering how to worm into my heart

Because when sigh and moan are on a page

Then sex somehow becomes my middle name

Because girls should be seen not heard,

Pass the day without a word

Quiet, shush dear, not too much noise,

Because, despite all these rules- boys will still be boys


so look at my lips as they part to let out a long held breath,

watch me put on lip balm and sigh a lil’ bit,

as I concentrate on the words which flow out of my pen,

see me bite inside my cheek, and see me there and then

and focus on the words that are written and I can say this, yet

you’ll keep choosing what you see. Okay let’s make a bet


let me raise an eyebrow and

don’t expect a raising hand

let my brow furrow in confusion, don’t

ask me why because we both know I won’t

sit in silence, suffering all the while

I wouldn’t cover with a smile-

If I need a hand, I’ll let you know,

And if I don’t then let it go.


Have you memorized the crinkles at the corner of my mouth when I grin?

Could you recite the poem my heart speaks, off all the guilt and sin?

Live inside my size five shoes and recollect my walk

Have you learned the vocab list of tones I make when I talk?

Quick now, write it down, I’m teaching you, you know?

And though we haven’t gone through it yet I must assume you know-


Oh dear I’m sorry, what a foolish silly thing of me to do, accept my apology,

‘Cause you best believe, this ‘seen not heard’ will make a damn loud scream

P.S. this is my 50th post on this website! isn’t that crazy!

love, Hea xx

Vietnam- day one that actually counts as a day

So, me and ma are only in Ho Chi Minh city for today, only one day, and boy, did we make the most of it. 

Waking up early (well, not really early as such, but for a generic teen like myself- early) we began with a very quaint but European (ironically) style café and coffee. Deciding to be girls on tour, we begin to walk towards a famous market and were confronted with something I could only dream of. The most beautiful and eclectic and raw scents, the most smiley and friendly and 

Happy people. Happy being the optimum word. I think Vietnam is rated eighth in the happiest countries in the world, and being here I can see why. Kids playing Badminton and shapes by the sides of the road, giggling to each other, honestly, genuinely smiling, friends sitting around tables and chairs we would deem fit for four year olds, and laughing in a way that made me want to join, people that just smiled at you on the street-

You could feel the life of this place. The life and soul, the animation and the heart beating hard,

And it wasn’t just about the fact that a full meal can cost as little as five pounds, or that there wasn’t a second that passed without the blare of a horn,

It was the fact that there was so much less corruption of phones and money and facebook and instagram and twitter and snapchat and

Stop. They stopped. They mainly couldn’t afford iPhones or androids, just flip phones used for, you know, phoning people

And this isn’t even a rant about technology, so, anyways,

We went on to a ‘golden dragon water puppet show’ which was… an… experience? I’m fairly sure it was a cult but apparently there was a plot and it was extremely well done and, um, memorable, let’s go with memorable,

And we returned to a moped tour of the city.

And I can not imagine that being something I’ll ever forget. 

The feel of wind on my face, in my hair, while the group flew out beneath me like a carpet being pulled, the lights that flashed to the left and the right and the front and the back

And the fluidity of the movement of the traffic, the gentle hum of the street all around, the view of the city as it passed

It felt more like home than a vacation.

We tried local food, saw the view of the city from a skybar (photo attached) and we had a day that I think I’ll genuinely treasure for a long time,

So first actual experience of Asia? 

Breath taking

Love, Hea xxa

You shouldn’t be made to feel weak for feeling  

I’m not going to give you any of that, ‘toxic masculinity’ spew which you’ve heard one too many times. Nor am I going to try and get through to people who won’t either read this or even care. But I was having deep conversation with a boy who’s been through something awful and he kept on apologising and apologising and when I finally asked him why he was sorry he says, ‘because I’m being such a pussy’.

I’m talking to another boy about some deep and heavy topics and what he’s going through and he says, ‘I don’t talk about this stuff much, it makes me feel weak.’ Intrigued by this link, of talking about feelings equating to weakness, I ask a guy whether he feels like he can show his emotions or hurt to the people of the same gender and he said, ‘not unless I was to be called a fag.’

When you’re upset about something, big or small, about family or friends or foe or anything in-between, surely you’d want to be able to talk about it? To be able to show you’re upset? You’d want to know you have friends, well, not even friend, but an environment where you feel like it’s okay to? 

Plenty of people reading this, and yes I am planning on sending this to people in particular who I think would benefit from reading this, will be thinking ‘but it’s such a ‘gay’ thing to do to cry’ or ‘it makes them a ‘pussy’’ or just be thinking that it makes a guy weak to cry,

But why?

Put aside what ‘you think a guy should be’. Put aside what your parents do or what your friends do,

Why shouldn’t boys be allowed to cry?

They’re allowed to laugh without being mocked, right? Allowed to smile? Allowed to joke around? Well then, why shouldn’t they be allowed to cry or be upset or talk about something deeper or more intellectual than last nights’ football game?

So this is a plea to all. If you’re a girl, then don’t laugh at or seem surprised or even make jokes because a guy cried.

And to guys?

Be the friend you’d need when you’re upset. Don’t think it’s ‘cool’ or ‘hot’ not to show your emotions. Don’t thinking that feeling is a sign of weakness,

When in reality it’s just strength,

Love, Hea xx

don’t just look- see

“What do you see?,” I ask him, my eyes transfixed on the swirling mass of white fluff dappling the too blue, true blue, sky,

Spiralling, it begins as a dolphin, swimming in the sea of the sky, the above above our world, and turns into

A mermaid singing songs to the sailors ships, siren-like in her appeal and song, her powers of persuasion but changes into

A bird. Right at home among his own, soaring above cities, swooping and flying and riding the breeze like a wave, and for him, just living and now becoming

A girl. A sweet little girl. A sweet kind innocent little girl, unexposed to the big bad world, so simply being, laughing, singing- simply simple, but she grows up into

A bottle. What of? If only she’d know. Something bad for your health, your liver, and even worse for your judgement, something pouring into the blue, flooding it,

And the man beside me peels his eyes from his LED lights,

Glances impassively at the sky,

Glances impassively at me and says,

‘A cloud’-

And falls back into the world of a phone,

While forgetting his own.

Love, Hea xx

You get to live

Sometimes I feel like shit. Sometimes I’m elated and over the moon. Sometimes I just want the ground to swallow me whole. Sometimes I feel like nothing could bring me down. Sometimes I’m an irrational,, illogical mess. Sometimes everything makes all the sense it’s supposed to.

But always, always, I’m lucky.

For the simple fact that I can feel.

Numbness. When you sit and your blood flow is stopped and you get pins and needles, after a while your foot’s almost numb. And it’s quite cool and funny to feel, 

But then you dread that painful flood of blood back through. That sharp aching pain,

Because the longer you stop feeling, the faster, when you let go, it’ll all flood back.

Maybe when I’m down it feels like the end of the world. Maybe when I’m up it feels like the start. 

But the key word there?


We get to feel.

We get to know what it’s like for the sun to soak into our pores, seep into our skin. We get to know what it feels like to be with a friend and laugh and laugh until tears roll down your face, both clutching your stomach from tensing. We get to know those moments where adrenaline takes over from blood through your bloodstream.

But you also get to know what it feels like to hate everything, yourself, your life, your feelings. You also get to know how scary your mind and brain can be. You also get to


You get to live.

You get to understand which feeling’s which and why and when someone says ‘happy’ you know what comes to mind,

And what does come to mind? Quick, whatever you’re reading this on, leave and go to notes. Write down the top three things that make you happy, maybe write about them and how they feel. That’s your homework,

The point of it is, I suppose, that every bad emotion is linked to a good emotion, that every high comes with a low, that every action has an equal and opposite reaction,

So maybe those three things will have three sad things nest to them, but the point is you can choose the read the left or the right,

Because the rest is up to you

Love, Hea xx

I’m every part of you that you seem to have forgot

I’m the twinkle in your eye when you can’t quite sleep,

I’m the lengths that you’d go to, to make all ends meet,

I’m the croak in your voice when you hazily wake,

I’m the laughter that creeps out while reliving your mistake,

I’m the rise of the sides of your lips you can’t stop,

I’m every part of you that you seem to have forgot.


I’m the catch in your throat while you’re fighting back tears,

I’m the rise of your pulse when you’re facing your fears,

I’m the feeling of the hug that you desperately need,

I’m the loud, open laughter, when you’re finally freed.

I’m the moment when you’re flying, so on top,

I’m every part of you that you seem to have forgot.


I’m the inside joke you smile at years from now,

I’m the pride you feel as you take your final bow,

I’m the sun seeping, soaking deep into your skin,

I’m the elation running through your veins when you win,

I’m the secret parts of you that you hide, old or new,

I’m real, I matter, I feel, I’m here- I’m you.

Love Hea xxx