My name is Annabel. My star sign is a Leo which means I am very stubborn and I look in the mirror a lot. I’m also extremely loyal, to the point of insanity, and ridiculously ambitious, unless it is a lazy day. If it’s a lazy day then I will sit in bed until the cows come home, watch Friends or Vampire Diaries (which I insisted was stupid until my friends made me watch an episode and then I was hooked – classic me) or Gossip Girl over and over again and sip coffee out of a cat shaped mug.
My favourite animal is the cat and my favourite cats name is Poopsah. (I’m just kidding – his name is Prince, but I call him Poopsah – don’t ask me why because I have no idea). He sleeps on my queen sized bed and covers the quilt in clumps of black fur. He also doesn’t mind hogging the pillow or sleeping on my side of the bed. As I sit here in bed, I look around at my room. I believe you can tell a lot about a person from the contents of their bedroom.
I’ll take you on a journey of mine:
There’s a round lamp on the bedside table and a glitter lamp next to that. A red electric guitar, some hanging lanterns and a pair of patterned shorts. A typewriter that doesn’t really work and an old television hidden nearby. A forgotten empty bottle of Rekordling – premium apple flavour – and a silver chain with a key.
There’s a vase of flowers and a plaited piece of ribbon. On top of the shelf that sits on the floor lives my tv with an aquarium inside, home to Ariel the mermaid and all the rest. I used to have three fish but one of them died; only Sparky and Marvin live on. I hope they got to say goodbye to tiny little Asher, may he rest in peace.
Next to that is a jar of paintbrushes and a bottle of orange nailpolish. Assorted shelves attached to the wall hold an array of knick knacks – a bottle of Kate Moss perfume, an old camera, a shell, some blocks that spell “LIVE”, three old keys, a bamboo ‘Sabah’ cup and a small china teapot.
There’s a clay dolphin, a row of linked elephants and a bottle of sinus clearing blend. On the biggest of shelves there is an assortment of books, ‘ACO’ canvas’s and three fancy cats.
On the top you can see a dreamcatcher, a globe, blue sunglasses, tigga, piglet and pooh, a rubix cube, two die and an orangutan plush toy. There’s a netball trophy, a san francisco hat, juicy coutour cup (pink), a ukelele and a fur real friend’s cat. There’s yellow and orange pencils, the ace of spaces, a bratz doll named Yasmin, Paddington Bear, a ‘Where’s Wally?’ book, a rainbow slinky and a purple pig money box.
If that didn’t give enough away, a little more about me would have you know that my hair is half blonde and half red, I want a pair of Doc Martens and a silver bird bracelet. On my 18th birthday I’m getting a red ruby stud in my nose and a tattoo on my ankle.
And finally, when I read books I read them quickly, but I savour every word. I hold them clean and crisp in my hands and turn each page with just my fingertips. If it’s a good book, I can read it in a day – and hardly put it down.
Even when I do, it’s not long before I pick it up again. Sometimes I get into moods where I don’t feel like doing anything at all except reading. And sometimes even that feels like an effort. The words and skill of the writer – the endless quotes I want to capture and copy; they’re overwhelming. My mind races with imagination – what I could do, what I could create. But it’s the doing part that is the problem. Sometimes I believe that I can do it, but sometimes I believe that I can’t. The ideas burn out, shrivel up and dissipate. Sometimes I feel lost for words.
That’s not what you want as a writer.