Florence Fucking Hates You

Sadling. Not your typical tumblr demographic. Formerly relevant in the Florence + the Machine fandom as a writer of Florabella fics. This is my personal blog. Don't reblog shitty guilt tripping posts and we'll be okay. 

[florencefckinghatesyou]

Back on my cryptic bullshit. ✌🏼 Written sometime in Jan-Feb of this year. [ID: a plain square with the following poem: Didn’t you used to be the expert? Come on, tell me about street art back in the days from a decade ago when you still were allowed to feel. The cathedral that was going to collapse on you, you could tell you didn’t trust going inside. Graffiti of them upturned noses, like you wish you had. I know no one has ever taught you, but this is not how girls fall in love.] #songsaboutdrowning #poem #poetry #poet #poetsofinstagram #poemsofinstagram #poetryofinstagram #poetsofig #igpoem #instapoet #poetrycommunity #writingcommunity #spilledink #writersofinstagram #herheartpoetry #bymepoetry #bookofpoets #creativewriting #wordsmith #poetscommunity #globalvoicesunite #untwinemeuk #queerwriters #queerpoetry #queerpoet #lgbtpoetry #lgbtwriters #lgbtpoets #originalpoems https://www.instagram.com/p/CPEJtR_ABU6/?utm_medium=tumblr

[florencefckinghatesyou]

Difficult choice tonight. This I think is one of the best things I’ve written recently and I tried to submit it somewhere and I was holding off posting it because lots of publications won’t let you submit things that have appeared on your social media. But I would like someone to see it, at least? I really wanted to share this one, I’m not often happy with my work. (written February 2021) [Image description: We spoke many languages before the tide came; you gave me hard liquorice but frankly, I did not understand its purpose. Stops you crying they said. It's the act of chewing, or perhaps the salty taste. One time I squeezed an ice cube when the tide was sweeping everything away, I have never known such devastating grief, I had no other protection but this cold thing in my hand. It dripped like the tears from my eyes, two sides of the same coin, two paper cups of mulled wine; the tide came and how everything was watered down.] #songsaboutdrowning #poem #poetry #poet #poetsofinstagram #poemsofinstagram #poetryofinstagram #poetsofig #igpoem #instapoet #poetrycommunity #writingcommunity #spilledink #writersofinstagram #herheartpoetry #bymepoetry #bookofpoets #creativewriting #wordsmith #poetscommunity #globalvoicesunite #untwinemeuk #queerwriters #queerpoetry #queerpoet #lgbtpoetry #lgbtwriters #lgbtpoets #originalpoems https://www.instagram.com/p/CNYPzfUgxAZ/?igshid=1a6vcimtd5hjt

[florencefckinghatesyou]

A very quick repost tonight, partly chosen because of the concept of saying yes to everything, seeing as I watched the film "Yes Day" on Netflix last night. Jennifer Garner is one of those people that you really want with your whole heart to be a good person and never do anything problematic. Ever since Alias, she brings me so much joy.

Originally written in July 2019, I have very few notes about this poem other than the fact that, like many others, I wrote it in the liminal space between going to bed and falling asleep and I wasn't sure what it meant the next day. But I certainly see a lot of @isamachine and her "write a hit in 10 minutes work ethic" in this.

[ID: We wrote poems in half an hour We set a timer They had to be hits Half an hour between me and sleep In between, an abyss of you We wrote songs that meant yes, and yes to everything the way other people smile their secret smile, but the ocean gets in the way.]

[florencefckinghatesyou]

CW: racism, slight mention of homophobia. LONG caption - continued in comments. Image description also in first comment.

I wrote this poem in November 2018, on the first and only time I visited Kyoto Garden in Holland Park. When I first posted it and had to edit it down to fit in 350 characters, the first line that I cut out was the one about white grandparents only wishing for white grandchildren. I was terrified that people would think that, just because I observed that this is a thing that happens, I somehow agreed with it. I was terrified it wouldn’t come across that I was denouncing it.

I worked around children for 10 years of my life, and I witnessed first hand the racism that children have to suffer from their own family members. It’s horrible to be stuck in a position in which you cannot say anything, because you’re serving these people and if you were to remark that they are being abusive, your job would be on the line. I have also witnessed and been unable to speak up about homophobia that parents were showing around and TOWARDS their children. People will always claim that you can’t tell them how to raise their own family.

There’s been a lot of talk in the media in the past few days about “concern” (the quote marks are necessary because it’s not concern, it’s racism) about what skin colour a famous baby was going to have, so I thought it was a good time to bring this poem back in its entirety and explain the sentiment behind it, because fuck, I HAVE seen this around me, I saw it for years and years and it didn’t magically stop when I stopped doing that job.

(at Kyoto Garden Holland Park) https://www.instagram.com/p/CMQEnyBH5v-/?igshid=6z76zw6vxgf9

[florencefckinghatesyou]

Repeat after me: I will not commit to posting twice a week. I will not commit to posting twice a week. This is just a coincidence!!

@transwritings posted more prompts the other day for the month of March #tylersprompts321. The reason I like his prompts is that they don't come with the expectation or commitment to do them all, or to do them in order. He leaves people the freedom to do one, several, or all, in any order. I have a good sense by now of what throws me into panic, doom and gloom, and I know I would not do well with strict prompts, but Tyler's suit me just fine.

I probably should have put a content warning on the slide for homophobia but thought about it too late, but these are all real things that my parents have said to me* throughout the years. The last sentence intentionally jars with the rest of the list because it feels kinda positive doesn't it? But at the same time it also has this kind of ominous sense to it, like it's a curse, the curse of never settling down.

(* One is a thing a partner's parent said to me once, feel free to guess which, I'm probably not going to go into the real answer though.)

[florencefckinghatesyou]

Surprise 2nd post in a week! Tyler @transwritings recently un-archived some prompts that he'd posted for September 2020. There was no obligation to do them all, or do them in order. This and another one really spoke to me. #tylerseptprompts

I took "position" in the very literal sense of indicating where I would sit at dinner. I spent years and years twisting my spine just to catch a glimpse of the tv, when it would have been a lot fairer if everyone had taken turns in the uncomfortable seat. But when have things ever been fair in my blood family?

I have no idea why I chose halwa puri here as an example of a food not from my culture. It was the first thing that came to mind, and I liked the way it sounded so I kept it.

[florencefckinghatesyou]

I wasn't originally going to (re)post this poem today, but it became relevant when I started experiencing the biggest flare-up I've ever had of my as yet undiagnosed chronic condition. In the last day and a half, I've been unable to walk and have had to crawl around on my hands and knees. A bathroom break in the night took me 40 minutes, and I promise I live in the tiniest one bed flat, converted from what used to be just two rooms. Getting through the night was horrifying, and it particularly scares me how all disabled people are expected to have a support network, someone who's ready to come over at a moment's notice to help you shower, dress and make food.

I wrote this poem in September 2019 when I had only been experiencing symptoms for about 3 months and I wanted to pair it with a picture I took around the same time. I looked through my holiday pictures from Prague, which I visited about a month after writing the poem, and I'd completely forgotten about this building, known as The Dancing House. And let me tell you, the way my back feels right now, really reminds me of that twisty, uncomfortable construction on the left. The way it spasms uncontrollably when I try to do something as simple as sitting up, and cuts the air flow from my lungs.

I would like to invite you to check out @rorablue's recent project, which is a series of photographs documenting the kind of inappropriate comments people with disabilities get every day, especially invisible ones. @rorablue's project not only really resonated with me, it also provides some background for why I haven't told many people about my chronic illness. Although I talk about it fairly regularly on stories on my personal account, I can only remember one occasion when someone asked me questions so they could understand better. The rest ignore it. My mother, who I mention in this poem, does not know I am chronically ill and does not know that I have put on a lot of weight as a result. I have to admit that this poem does address the weight gain much more so than the chronic pain, and how I feel that it would be easier to disappear and for my body to give in completely rather than have to face judgment from the outside world. My mother does have a number of fantasies about why it is that I haven't been back to visit in 3 years, but she has no idea that not wanting to be judged for my weight gain and disability is right at the top of that list.

[florencefckinghatesyou]

Whenever I remember it's Wednesday and I must post something new, I usually look at the past few posts and decide whether it's going to be a new poem or a repost. I’m not at the point where I can cut and paste different snippets of the same pieces and be confident that it’s not going to annoy people and lose me followers. I will probably never reach that point.

Tonight however, I am doing something even more unusual and posting something I only wrote a couple of hours ago. I was walking back from my grocery shop and I could see so many stars! Very unusual in a brightly lit place where, between houses and lampposts, it is never completely dark. I thought back about someone I met last year who, unfortunately, lives close by. Sometimes even speaking to someone for just one afternoon can have lasting consequences, and I don’t want horrible people polluting my safe haven with their presence.

In other news, what does one say when the person from three poems ago crops back up and asks how you are? What is the language to say, beloved, I don’t feel you’d approve of how I am?

[florencefckinghatesyou]

This week's offering is an older but previously unpublished poem, from September 2018. I read somewhere that when you look at a poem you've written, it needs to be clear (even just to yourself) what the poem is about, and this is what guided my choice this evening. A lot of my poems are murky or seem unfinished but this poem is quite clearly about language and, more specifically, about those inside jokes and distorted words people develop which are unique to their relationship.

Have I written this in a previous post? I'm very obsessed with the fact that if I could redo my degree all over again then I'd write my dissertation on couples developing their own private dialect.

I don't love writing advice or listicles that simplify the process of writing but I have to admit I liked that small piece of advice and it plays a big part now in what poems I choose to post every week.

[florencefckinghatesyou]

I knew I was due for a repost today, and I knew I was due to post just a square of text to keep the grid consistent, but I couldn't resist picking this one and posting it on top of the exact same picture I used the first time around. I wrote the poem on the same afternoon I took the picture, in the churchyard of St Paul's Cathedral. My partner had just applied for a job in the US and I was contemplating what would happen if we ended up on different continents.

This was only the second poem I ever posted on here, and I'm glad I can archive the old post and offer it again, but without watermarks and with a better look.

Unrelated, but as not many people watch my stories I strongly invite you all to pre-order issue 4 of @nervezine on the theme of "Care", including an essay by yours truly about what lockdown(s) taught me about self-care.

[florencefckinghatesyou]

In 2020 I had to accept that I had drifted apart from a person who I had often referred to as my soulmate in many ways, but unlike most of my other friendships, this felt like a fairly organic development after 11 years of being incredibly close.

I think the difference is that I can see the reasons we drifted apart, whereas with all of the other people it very much seems like a decision that they made which I didn't agree with. On many occasions I was left wondering what I had done, but here I didn't have to wonder: I made some choices that they didn't approve of and, as my previously healthy body gave in to chronic pain, I also didn't feel that I could trust them with that slippery slope. I couldn't guarantee that they would understand and didn't have the energy to try.

I don’t resent this person for no longer identifying as an overthinker and I am glad their mind has now found some structure and comfort. I couldn’t grow at the same pace, but that’s okay, there was no expectation that I should be able to.

https://www.instagram.com/p/CJ_zWoOHFs9/?igshid=rp3jhmf98ggm

[florencefckinghatesyou]

This is my first post of the new year. I wanted to make sure that at least my first post in January wasn't an old poem, but I've been struggling to finish anything in the past few weeks and I have quite a lot of half-written, unsatisfactory stuff. Also, I really wanted to go back to my old style of posting my words superimposed on my own pictures. Unfortunately I changed phones last year and lost a lot of the pictures of nature I'd taken, especially when I was going to Richmond virtually every weekend and it was nice and sunny.

I would like to thank Sky @smilingatmysandwich for explaining to me that Google Slides was a thing and I could use it to put words on pictures without worrying about apps charging a lot of money or adding watermarks and whatnot. This was so much harder than I thought, so I might keep it for special occasions 😂 Luckily this was just a short sentence that came to me last night as I was falling asleep and which I haven't developed into a longer poem just yet.

If you are watching my stories at the moment I'm posting how I'm setting up a journal for 2021 - not a bullet journal as I feel like they can make people feel under a lot of pressure to perform, be consistent etc. I've removed all my Calls for submissions post-its from my wall and moved them onto paper, and will do the same with my daily activities. And then I will proceed to write a poem about how I'm convinced that if I wasn't noting everything down into lists I would completely lose my mind.

[florencefckinghatesyou]

I am alternating posting new work and reposting old poems with updated graphics. This is a new piece which I wrote a few weeks ago. Two years ago I made the decision to be almost entirely estranged from my family and I am processing a lot in therapy about the way I was brought up. Even Instagram had helped, offering some terms I wasn't familiar with like #enmeshedparenting. This piece feels unfinished, but it makes enough sense that I can publish it anyway, as I wanted to get one more in before Christmas and it isn't one that I have submitted to any publication. In the 3 months I've lived alone I have made myself a wall with reminders of what magazines and anthologies are taking submissions and I try to devote time to writing at least once a week. Many publications won't accept poems that have already been posted to instagram, so I need to be careful that what I choose to post isn't currently being considered anywhere. The world of online magazines is an actual minefield and it's really tough for me to figure out which ones I would be a good fit for. DIY zines are still much more in my comfort zone and I managed to produce 1300 words yesterday on the theme of closure that I'm really happy with. Even if it doesn't get accepted, I still have a good piece of writing that makes me feel accomplished. #songsaboutdrowning #poem #poetry #poet #poetsofinstagram #poemsofinstagram #poetryofinstagram #poetsofig #igpoem #instapoet #poetrycommunity #writingcommunity #spilledink #writersofinstagram #herheartpoetry #bymepoetry #bookofpoets #creativewriting #wordsmith #poetscommunity #globalvoicesunite #untwinemeuk #queerwriters #queerpoetry #originalpoems https://www.instagram.com/p/CJJ2o-lHO-z/?igshid=1v2cllcot8d8n

[florencefckinghatesyou]

This is the only Christmas themed poem in my offering. My relationship with Christmas is one of continuous ups and downs, and spending Christmas alone has been a blessing or a curse depending on the year and my situation. When I wrote this poem 2 years ago, I really resented having to be alone on Christmas day. I had recently lost the love of my life and I was dealing with a lot of guilt. That day I ended up watching Fleabag for the first time, and I handmade a zine trying to highlight to my new partner that vulnerability is a strength. I know she still has the zine but I'm not entirely sure she ever understood it or even appreciated it.

If you feel alone this Christmas and especially if this is in any way linked to being a queer person, I want you to know that you are allowed to feel this way. There will be people who will insist that you are wrong and who will call you names for feeling even just 1% negative about Christmas. I know because I've had it done to me. These people are using toxic positivity to guilt you. Not allowing you to express your true thoughts and feelings is harmful.

#poem #poetry #poemsofinstagram #poetryofinstagram #poetsofig #igpoem #poetrycommunity #writingcommunity #spilledink #writersofinstagram #herheartpoetry #bymepoetry #bookofpoets #wordsmith #poetscommunity #globalvoicesunite #untwinemeuk

#loneliness #lonelyatchristmas #lonelychristmas #aloneatchristmas #solochristmas #christmaspoem #christmaspoetry #christmasalone #tier4christmas #tier3christmas #covidchristmas #lockdownchristmas #toxicpositivity

[florencefckinghatesyou]

To be honest, I really wanted to repost this poem because at the time I just typed it in a story, used the highlighter tool to scribble on a background, and took a screenshot. It looked very garish and I just want to archive those brightly coloured posts asap. Even though perhaps my new posts are now *too* simple looking, I have to favour ease of reading and consistency.

I keep thinking that this is one of many things I've written that stems from a nightmare, but actually on reflection only one of the items on this list (the crane) is something I dreamt up. The rest of the poem is really about language, specifically the language that we create with our partners.

With every person that I have loved I've fashioned myself a whole new set of vocabulary, which also evolved and changed as the relationship progressed. I've always said that if I could go back in time, this is what I would do my dissertation on: how you can create expressions that only make sense to you and one other person. Each person is important enough to create a whole new grammar for them and for them only, and when that love ends, it becomes yet another lost language.

I speak at least three dead languages.

[keeleylola]

First up, mad props to @scandilande for the artwork. What a bestie!

As you all probably know by now (I’m trying to keep it non-annoying, I promise) this week is my official launch and first release of The Music and the Mirror. Since I get to have cakes and people will hopefully be nice to me, I thought I’d share in that celebration with all of you. 

I’m giving away ONE SIGNED PAPERBACK* and FIVE EBOOKS of  The Music and the Mirror. 

To enter? Couldn’t be simpler. Be following @keeleylola and reblog this post. Boom, you’re in the draw. 

Winners will be drawn at random by the magic of computers doing number stuff. The first person drawn will get to choose between paperback and ebook, and so on in order until someone wants that. If you win an ebook, I’ll ask for your email address to send that over to you. If you win the paperback, I’ll obviously ask for a postal address. It’s that simple!

So if you’d like to be in contention, follow @keeleylola and hit reblog. 

Of course, if you don’t want to wait or leave it to chance, you can always (pre)order at these links:

E-book: direct from Ylva! - you can also read the first official review here!

Paperback: (Amazon UK)

Paperback: (Amazon US)

Paperback: (Amazon Aus)

*including postage to anywhere that accepts post. Worldwide.

[keeleylola]

UPDATE: Winners will be drawn on 19th April. Thank you!

[florencefckinghatesyou]

Dancing with a Ghost, ch.7/ch.8

yes hello I am the worst. i am doing the writing thing but I am not telling tumblr about it.

which is just as well because chapter 7 was teeny tiny.

Chapter 7 summary: Betty tells Laura that she’s getting a little too obsessed with Ghosting. 

Read here 

Chapter 8 summary:  Laura takes Betty's advice and tries to do normal student things, like going to a party and getting drunk. 

Read here

hope you like :) comments, either here or on Ao3, are welcome :)