How I Realised I Am a Part of the Me Too Movement
When the #metoo movement surfaced, I first didn’t think I had anything in common with it. "That hasn’t happened to me, I don’t know what they mean.” My second approach after reading countless stories on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and everywhere else all these strong women were sharing their stories was, “Okay, well, maybe I have some experiences, BUT I’m too shy and embarrassed to let the world know.”
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To feel rushed in a place where everything is slow
I live in London, in the centra of rush hour. I've lived here for the past two years, probably having quite a normal "Londoner life." I go to uni, I live in a house with my mates, I have a part time job in Notting Hill, I go to the gym and yada yada, you get the picture. But I haven't always lived here, before London I lived in Australia for two years and before that I was being brought up in Sweden. An amazing journey if I could say it myself but here comes the problem...
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It's May 28th and I'm Not His Girlfriend
First time I met him was at a bar in Shoreditch, just off Liverpool Street station. It was my third ever date with anyone and the butterflies in my stomach was going mad. So mad that I thought to myself, I should just turn around and go back. But my heart was telling me to move forward, forcing me to take one step in front of the other, because maybe, just maybe, this will be the time when it is my last, first date with someone. Maybe this time it will work out, and maybe this time it will be the guy who'll finally make me forget about my X and stop thinking “what if.” 'Cause we all know that “what if” never turns into anything. It’s just there, like the annoying itching after the mosquito bites you got too many of last summer.
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