We all belong here.

He had sent them to spy me.
Black grace dancing through clouds on the pale Moon’s night.
Feathery, leathery wings, eyes beady in thought and memory.
Watching and diving as I cast my magic unto reality; something from nothing.

I wander the forests of the Olde Gods, dense and unwelcoming.
I hear the wild hunts ensue. Mortals gifted or dying.
I beware the faerie hills, the homes of the Sidhe.

These dark angels follow, like Sköll chasing the Sun over Her horizon, watching and diving.
No flash of thunder, crack of lightning, born from a bottle, battle or windswept cave would deny them.

I went where none could follow;
The Lands of the Dead, crowds of the lifeless, souls unwelcome and unworthy in Valholl.
The Peaks of Maradi, demons and dark-ones, hollow teeth and long, my blood sings in my veins.
The all-consuming Blodbylgje, the Nine Daughters; Blodghadda, Bylgja, Drofn, Dufra, Heivring, Himinglaeva, Hronn, Koltga, Unrn.
Yet still they followed, watching and diving, watching and diving.

I travelled to the Cavern of Al’Cathere, the Cailleach Mother, birthplace of witches of rock and sea and air and green, fire bright in our wild eyes.
Yet still, they watched and dived.

So, me and my sisters raised our wands and voices,
Struck their feather with our swords as we did our bells.
We tied a knot to bind them in stone and water, flowing and unmoving.
Now I run and dance from Gungnr’s might, never watched nor dived.
Are you satisfied yet, Allfather?

My story is a creative prose regarding the feelings of the invisible audience that can come with loneliness, feeling both on the outside and object of everyone's discourse. At the end of the story, my character finds their community, with whom they are able to dispel the invisible audience. My tale draws inspiration from folklore and Norse myth, but transformed into my own unique story.

Loneliness seeped into my soul, like growing mould in the corner of a bathroom.
It was always there, but I chose to ignore it. I didn’t want to admit I was lonely. Admitting I was lonely would mean I was admitting my best friend didn’t provide me the level of care and attention I craved.
However, once I admitted, it was too late.
For too long had I pretended like nothing was wrong when everything was wrong.
For too long had I exacerbated her loneliness.
Bringing my best and authentic self to her did not help her loneliness. She needed someone else that wasn’t me.
She left me without explanation and I was lonely.
On a hopeful note, now we have found better friends that suit ourselves better than we suited each other. People who leave you with no explanation have no right to make you feel lonely so find better people.

Navigating loneliness over the span of almost 14 years, I have learnt that it is a key part of who I am and although I struggle with it, it's the realisation that travelling this journey of loneliness alone is what I can no longer do and that there is a key difference between being lonely and being alone.

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Lonely but not Alone
For one of the most common experiences, it sure feels rare.
It feels rare to not pinpoint the cause of this hopelessness.
It feels rare to know more than one language yet feel a feeling I can’t quite articulate.
I am the most social I’ve ever been, yet I feel so isolated.
I found the love I dreamt of finding, yet I’ve never felt so desolate.
I was selected for the job I wanted so badly, yet I’ve never felt so incompetent.
I acquired the education I thought I’d never acquire, yet I’ve never felt so unaccomplished.
I write to explore my thoughts but my words are the ones that overwhelm me.
I cry to release my pent up emotions but my tears are the ones that tire me.
I therapize my brain to get help me get better but it is therapy that confronts me.
I seek people in the hopes they’ll understand me but it is them who criticise me.
I thought I’d come to terms with the loneliness,
it took reconnecting with my roots and an Urdu song to learn that
I had some element of acceptance but it was traveling this journey of loneliness alone
that I could no longer do.

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The quietness is something like misplacing something warm and familiar, something you didn't realise you reached for so often until it wasn't there, like a hoodie that holds many memories.
It's the loss of routine and connection that subtly shape every single day, something comfortable that I didn't know I grew used to. In a place that is still new, the sense of stability means more than you realise, now navigating your days looks like getting used to the quiet and to trust that feeling lost is part of finding your rhythm again.

When I began my first position in the construction industry, I was one of only three females in the office and also among the youngest employees. This made it challenging to establish meaningful connections with my colleagues. Consequently, I had to navigate not only the complexities of starting my professional career but also the specific barriers inherent to the industry.

There were several moments that felt particularly isolating, especially given that many of my friends and family had limited understanding of my career aspirations. Upon securing my role as an Estimator, I often encountered the question, ""What does that mean?"" Explaining my role in a way that resonates with those outside the construction field proved difficult, which hindered my ability to brainstorm solutions to various challenges.

Another notable experience was during an end-of-financial-year celebration, where I found that none of the directors resembled me. This raised questions about whether my interests would be genuinely considered.

Fortunately, during my time in my role, I have witnessed a positive shift in the office's diversity, with a significant increase in the representation of women and younger employees. Including more females in senior positions. Additionally, I have connected with organizations focused on mentoring individuals in similar roles, which has greatly enhanced my professional network and sense of belonging within the industry.

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