Esperanto Magazine - 04 Connection | MONSU Caulfield

Issue 4 November 2020

The Connection Issue

Thank You, Thank You Contributing Writers—

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Editors

Joseph Lew Tiffany Forbes

Art Director

Marissa Hor

Contact

Esperanto Student Magazine MONSU Caulfield Inc. Level 2, Building S, 2 Princes Avenue, Caulfield East, VIC 3145

+613 9903 2525

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MONSU Caulfield Inc.

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Marissa Hor

Legal

Esperanto Magazine is published

by MONSU Caulfield Inc. Views expressed within do not necessarily reflect those of MONSU Caulfield Inc, the editorial panel, the publisher, or any other person associated with Esperanto.

Alice Wright Amy Jenkin Binari Almeida Caitlin Johnston Coby Renkin Dena Tissera Ella McEwan Emma Anvari Georgia Erin Cameron Kiera Eardley Lily Anna Malena Frey Natasha Schapova Ruby Ellam Simone Kealy Stephanie Booth Thiamando Pavlidis Tricia Rivera Victoria Baikie Vivian Tang Xenia Sanut Zayan Ismail Contributing Artists— Aastha Agrawal Beth Philpotts Caitlin Johnston Carla J. Romano Charlotte Elwell Ella Pang Emma Lucas Gabrielle Poh Jackie Liu Jake Porter Jessie Liu Kate Thomas Lillian Busby Lily Li Lisa Vullings Madison Marshall Mikhail Volkov Natalie Tran Ruth Ong Sally Ann Gething Sarah Annett Sophie McKenzie-Stripp Stephania Paul Ying Xuan

Contents 06­ Sweaters and Snapchats 08 Things Not to Say At Thanksgiving 10 Bonding and Brownlows 12 Fallin’ Outta Love:

The Reality of It 14 Dolly Alderton Book Club 16 Swiping in Solitude 18 Existential Hour:

A Reflection on Social Connection Media 20 Memorabilia 22 But Dad, I Love Him! 24 Boozy Bathroom Besties 26 Taking Out The Toxins 28 Finding Mr Right 30 36 Questions that Lead to Love 32 When I Grow Up 34 To Be Human 36 Hating Boomers and Other Universal Connections 38 It Was Connell’s Chain For Me...

40 Familial Connection 42 Yours Sincerely, Twenty-First Century Tired 46 Why Does Heartbreak Hurt?

48 Reading Between The Stars 50 Six Again 52 Law of Attraction 54 Connecting The Cultures 56 Deal-breakers 58 Poems to Soothe:

To Remind and to Soften The Overwhelming

Feeling Love Brings Out In You

Editors’ Note This year has been one hell of a ride. We’ve seen it all, from devastating bushfires that swallowed half the country up in flame, to a pandemic that blanketed us in distrust, fear and loneliness. We’ve spent months isolated to the confines of our homes, and far too many hours forgetting to unmute ourselves on Zoom, scrolling through the depths of ASMR TikTok and unsuccessfully trying to conquer an Among Us addiction.

It’s in these moments we’ve reached out to those most important to us: our friends, our families, even our pets; our words and virtual touch embracing one another, providing comfort and bringing us closer even in the most dreadful of moments.

We’ve redefined the meaning of connection, finding unforeseen ways to connect with ourselves and our passions, our dreams and our identities.

Our final edition is not just a tribute to the power of connection, but also a tribute to you. You’ve touched us with your stories, whispered your most intimate and innermost secrets, transcribed your passions and fears onto paper, and breathed life into our empty pages. In turn, we hope you’ll find solace in our collection of tales, from finding love on the sticky floor of a club bathroom, breaking up with toxic friends, to shamelessly fangirling over Connell Waldron’s chain.

So, to our writers and our artists, our readers and our sponsors, from the bottom of our hearts, thank you. We wouldn’t be who we are without you.

For one final time…

Let’s get connected.

Love, Joe, Tiff & Marissa

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ESPERANTO

Sweaters and Snapchats Humans are social creatures, sure, we all know that; we’ve heard it all before. But our generation is desperate for connection. We drift in and out of each other’s lives, flitting from friendship to friendship, relationship to relationship, in the search for that perfect fit. We look for connection on street corners and right swipes, our fingers dancing over touch screens and keyboards as we send auto-generated compliments and heart-eye emojis in the hopes of getting one back.

WORDS BY Joseph Lew @josephyylew COLLAGE BY Ella Pang @fangcreates

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We made eye contact at the grocery store.

You smiled at me. I awkwardly looked away and walked into a different aisle. When I came back, you were gone.

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You kept sending me photos of your dick.

We messed around in the back of a theatre.

I started to catch feelings. You said you weren’t into men.

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We talked on Tinder, then on Snapchat. We shared a sloppy kiss at Yah Yah’s. Then several more. The night ended. I still check if you like my Instagram photos.

4—

You were in one of my classes. You were wearing a green sweater. I thought you looked cute.

We laughed at how bad we were at math.

You weren’t there the next week.

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You said you were straight, but that you liked me. I didn’t know how to respond. You asked me for a threesome. I blocked you.

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I met you in Italy. We fooled around on the floor of a hostel. I told my friends I liked you.

We came back to Australia. You ghosted me.

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You slid into my inbox. We liked the same colour.

And movies. We exchanged I love you’s. I love you. I love you. I love you. One day you didn’t say it back. I cried for a week.

THE CONNECTION ISSUE 2020

But what about the connections we miss in the process?

The ones that got away? Let’s raise a glass to them: the might-haves and the could-have-beens, the summer flings and fleeting moments, the ones that ended as briefly as they began...

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Things Not to Say At Thanksgiving

ESPERANTO

WORDS BY Ruby Ellam @ruby.ellam

ART BY Natalie Tran @natsiouu

The spirit of listicles that tell you what not to say in different circumstances (say a date, or meeting the in-laws, or, in this case a family dinner) is often used as a means of placating your familial audience. “Just don’t upset your father” and “Grandma just doesn’t get it, she’s from another time!” I think this underestimates the empathy and intelligence of your relatives and older people in general. While you should always prioritise the safety of yourself and others, avoiding political conversations just because “they don’t get it” can be as damaging as it is lazy.

Have hard conversations.

With that in mind, here are ten things you actually shouldn’t say at a family dinner:

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Any boyfriend/girlfriend/significant others?

Why are you still single?

No, Aunt June, I don’t have time for a boyfriend!

Not between work and study and exploring my own sexuality and identity. I’d rather not pin my existence on another flawed, young human being, making each other responsible for the inevitable shifts in our maturation.

(To a couple) Are you trying for children?

The only thing this confirms is whether or not your family member is being actively splooged into.

Haven’t you had enough? Someone’s hungry.

Shut up. Let them eat. Fat shaming is so last decade and even if you genuinely worry for your loved one’s health, embarrassing them in front of others does NOTHING to help.

Don’t grab at plates before the knife, fork, and napkin are neatly and purposefully piled onto the scraps, indicating that they have finished eating.

Wow, aren’t you very… Melbourne-y!

Okay, this one is kind of personal but if you are an expat like me, you know what it's like to hear Melbourne used as an adjective. Come back with dyed hair? A new style? Less racist views? It’s because of Melbourne — Melbourne corrupts Queenslanders.

Grandma, have you seen the WAP video?

Let’s put it on!

Actually I take it back. That's hilarious. Everyone on that side of the family is there because of her WAP, so show some respect. She might be a certified freak, seven days a week.

Is that a toupee?

It is, leave it alone.

My friend told me to add this; he insists it is a universal experience and while I wish I could confirm, alas, my head is a weird shape and hats look bad on me. Also, I don’t really feel like getting him a meaningful Christmas gift so if I get this published then I can buy a small costume hat and call it a day.

I feel like this is pretty self explanatory but I’d like to add that while emotionally charged conversations can be incredibly healing, holidays and family events with high expectations can goad you into conversations you aren’t ready for. Allow yourself the clarity of thought before engaging in potentially triggering heartto-hearts.

I’ve recently discovered essential oils! I can heal cousin Tammy’s (insert ailment that can definitely not be cured by essential oils)!

If patchouli was the real cure for my chronic pain then the government would be doling it out for exorbitant amounts, not allowing it to be collected by middle aged white women stuck in pyramid schemes to push on Facebook. I wish I could relieve my depression with minion memes, but alas, here we are.

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I’ve bought a tight fitting bowler hat.

I have little to no time to indulge in this intergenerational cycle of trauma. So, no, Mum/Dad/Partner/Child, I will not get into a wine induced fight with you about how you were/are emotionally distant.

So what are you grateful for this year?

This is a trap. Everyone knows you should say family and everyone knows it's usually not the case. I’m grateful for not having to answer these questions.

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WORDS BY Kiera Eardley @kieraeardley

Bonding and Brownlows

ART BY Jake Porter @jake_porter22

I have memories of footy from my earliest years. Dad started me young, dragging his firstborn to Carlton games as soon as I could walk.

And I’m glad he did, because when I think of footy, I think of Dad. I remember being too little to see the players from my seat, so I learnt the rules of the rolling crowd by copying him, yelling when he yelled, and cheering when he cheered.

I remember holding his hand as we walked across the MCG footbridge after another loss, my navy flag dragging limply by my side, and asking if we were ever going to win a game.

I remember watching my first game after getting glasses in primary school, and his amusement at my revelation that the players actually wore numbers on their backs. I am so grateful for his patience in answering my endless questions (sorry Dad) about changing rules and unjust free kicks, because now the game feels like my own, and I feel like I belong to it.

The electricity of this belonging was perhaps strongest at the inaugural AFL Women’s game in 2017. Sitting next to Dad, I teared up watching the girls run out onto the ground to the same song the boys had for years. The stadium was full at Princes Park, and posters everywhere exclaimed ‘YOU WITNESSED HISTORY’. And it felt like it. It made me proud that, despite also having two sons, Dad’s only daughter is the one who is as diehard as he. The footy is our thing, and nothing has made us closer.

While we’ve watched every game from the couch in lockdown, there’s so much that I miss.

The weekend ritual of heading to a game can bring a gleam of excitement and uncanny comfort to an otherwise dreary week. It’s a multifaceted tradition beginning with a train ride into Richmond, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with people who’ll be your sworn enemies in under an hour. Then there’s the obligatory hot pie that’s impossible to eat without scorching your tongue or spilling sauce down your scarf.

Combine this with a plastic cup of overpriced Carlton Draught and the drunk guy five rows down prematurely singing your team song, and it’s all utterly perfect. I miss that familiar routine, of cheering along with a sea of navy blue. It’s just not the same on television.

But still, the game has given us some magic this year. Watching Bryce Gibbs being chaired off in his last game by his former teammates made me smile. I relished our frantic celebrations when Jack Newnes kicked a miracle heart-stopping goal after the siren to win the game for Carlton.

And more than anything, I loved seeing Kade Simpson with his signature long sleeves kick a running goal in pouring rain from fifty metres out in his 342nd and final game. That’s what footy is about: the moments that make you feel something. It’s why it became so popular during the Great Depression. Communities came together each weekend to rally behind their team, despite the chaos of their private lives.

Throughout lockdown, we’ve had that same glimmer of hope on-screen each week. Even without the raucous crowd, with pies from the oven instead of a Four’N Twenty wrapper, it’s still footy and it’s still brilliant. But I can’t wait to be back at the ‘G.

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Footy. It’s warm beer sloshing around a plastic cup. Direct sunlight blinding you in the grandstand on a Saturday afternoon. The roar of an unbridled crowd prickling with nervous energy as the ball is bounced. It’s 36 players running around an oval, chasing a coloured ball while 70,000 people scream like they’ve bet the house on the result. And I love it. In all its frenetic glory, AFL is closer to religion for me than any church will ever be.

Fallin’ Outta Love: ESPERANTO

The Reality of It. Love. You fall in it. You fall out of it.

For most of us, we’ve had stories about love shoved down our throats from the moment we started maturing emotionally. Despite what rom-coms or fairy tales tell us, falling in love is often inevitably accompanied by falling out of love. The concept of this all-consuming, everlasting love really isn’t true. We all think we’re going to meet that special someone and spend the rest of our lives with them, but honestly how many of those relationships fail? How many times do we fall out of love and then go through the exact same naïve process again?

Breakups happen, falling out of love happens, and sure it sucks, but it’s normal; it’s part of everyday life. So why is it that despite the normalcy of it, most of us are never prepared to deal with it?

You’ve probably heard or maybe even experienced it yourself: the feelings of I don’t know who I am without them or what am I supposed to do now? We place so much emphasis on falling in love that the moment we fall out of it, we don’t know how to cope.

In 500 Days of Summer, Tom asks Summer about her previous relationships and why none of them worked out, to which Summer replies, “What always happens. Life.” Some might describe Summer as cynical about love, but I like to think of her as a realist. Someone who amongst all the sugar-coated bullshit about love that we’re fed, remains real with her head screwed on. I mean she’s not wrong — falling out of love can happen over the tiniest of things, like your partner always leaving things lying around your house, or never putting the toilet seat down. It can also happen over the biggest of things, like being cheated on. It can happen as quick as the flick of a switch, or slowly over time. People fall out of love for millions of reasons. Love is ever changing, and it’s honestly impossible to tell when you’ll lose it.

So, let’s just say we accept the premise that falling out of love is inevitable. Well then why do we struggle with it so much? Probably because

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we as a society document only the highs of being in love, so much so that we’re never exposed to the lows that come with it. Then when it does happen, we’re so unprepared.

And to be honest, I get why we don’t document it. It’s undesirable. No one ever really wants to fall out of love; it’s an uncomfortable thing to think about. No one wants to spend their time worrying about an expiry date, or what they’re going to do if they fall out of love with the person they adore. Instead, we make plans with the person we love, post every milestone on our Instagram and get excited about the thought of building a life with them. But the reality is, falling out of love is just as natural a process as falling in love, and it’s only when we accept the reality of this that we can learn how to cope with all the ugliness of it all.

ART BY Aastha Agrawal @aasthameow

The process of falling out of love is what you make of it.

I’m not going to lie to you, I don’t really think there’s ever an easy way to fall out of love.

It’s painful and complicated; there’s a lot of tears, swearing, and negative emotions. But this is normal. And do I have a solution to any of it?

Not at all. But maybe, just maybe, if we started accepting it, the healing process might be a little bit easier. Just remember, falling out of love isn’t a bad thing so don’t give up on love altogether. Falling out of love just means you had the opportunity to love and that in itself is a beautiful thing. So, embrace it, appreciate it for all that it is with its highs and its lows, but remember, it’s normal, it happens, and you’ll survive it, no matter how terrible it feels.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that you should be preparing yourself to fall out of love, or that it’s stupid to be all optimistic and happy about being in love. All I’m saying is that we need to start embracing falling out of love, and realising that it doesn’t have to be such a terrible thing. Personally I think it can be one of the best things to go through. It can help you grow as a person and understand what you want out of a relationship, or life for that matter.

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WORDS BY Binari Almeida @binari55

Dolly Alderton Book Club

ESPERANTO

From the day I entered this world kicking and screaming, to the day I was introduced to Cinderella at age five, I’d been force-fed the same old stories: happy-ever-afters defined by a true love’s kiss and fairy tales that only ever ended with finding The One. These social constructs neatly packaged like products on a production line and sold at every crossroad of our lives to remind us happiness only exists in a significant other, and that romantic soulmates are life’s final destination, with everything else simply forming part of the collateral.

But what these stories always failed to mention was that these endings were nothing but a big fat scam. Instead I, like every other impressionable teen, traipsed around for years longing for that all-consuming Georgia and Robbie from Angus, Thongs and Perfect Snogging kind of love — albeit the olive costume. The type that promised flowers on Valentine’s Day and the perfect innocence of an excruciatingly awkward handhold at your first tragic Hoyts date. The type that sent currents through every fibre of your body, because a belly full of butterflies just wasn’t going to cut it.

WORDS BY Tiffany Forbes @tiffanyforbes COLLAGE BY Kate Thomas @katethomas____

happy-ever-after lies solely in the hands of Prince-fucking-Charming. Perhaps it’s time we shift the narrative and learn to embrace love in all its varied guises.

Why? Because true love to me is my first primary school friend and I vowing to be forever inseparable over a shared juice box and a canteen mac n’ cheese 14 years ago. Since then, I’ve found true love in my best friends who send me pictures of their hairy legs at 4:00pm and call me only to sit in silence at 5:00pm. I’ve found soulmates in people I’ve met halfway across the world as they lay appreciating the beauty of a simple sunset with the same utter passion and vigour as I. I’ve found true love in the friends who send me Betoota Advocate articles every day — as if it were a religion — just because they know it’ll make me laugh.

I’ve found true love in friendships built on the foundations of one too many group assignment Zoom calls (over wine and tears, no doubt). I’ve found soulmates at almost every crossroad of my life, and not a single one of them needed the added layer of romance or intimacy to make me feel both worthy and loved.

A quote I read once said: And hell, I wasn’t the only one. I’d see girls on Instagram as young as nine proclaim, “no one loves me, because I can’t get a boyfriend” as if it “They force it down your throat until you choke were the quintessential phrase of every primary on it. Girls aren’t pretty unless they’re wanted.

Boys aren’t men unless they’re having sex with school sleepover. Even family Christmases someone. People aren’t loveable unless they’re were no solace from the matchmaking, with dating someone. But a relationship won’t questions about my relationship status placed high and proud on a pedestal above anything always make you happy, and as wonderful as else that could possibly be plaguing my young romance is, it isn’t the only love that exists.” teen-life at any given time. It’s no wonder these We so often use our romantic relationship status systemic ideas are ingrained in our thinking. as a mechanism for validation, to define our worth, to define our success, and when we don’t When I finally started dating a boy in year 12, have it, we’re led to believe we’re unwanted, I naïvely thought, this was it. I’d finally get to unloved and undeserving despite owing so experience what it was about this whole ‘love’ much to the beautiful friendships in our lives. business that people crossed oceans for, and singers like John Legend wrote ‘All of Me’ about. The people who love us, for literally just that, us.

But without fail, every time I’d leave more disapSo, to the world that taught me I’d only find true pointed than I’d started. love and happiness in the person I marry, to the Disney movie that taught me a fairy tale ending The truth? True love is much more nuanced would only ever be found in a true love’s kiss: than Cinderella ever let on. It’s a flawed it’s time to redefine our happily-ever-afters. mentality to believe this idea of achieving a 14

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ESPERANTO

Swiping in Solitude Last month, as I was lying in bed a couple wines deep, I decided to jump back on Tinder.

Seeking validation I couldn’t get while in lockdown, I updated my photos, rejigged my old bio, and got swiping.

Lots of these nights followed, induced by romantic comedies, boredom, and alcohol. My pattern was a familiar one, matching, talking for a couple nights, getting bored, and moving on.

While it was fun, I couldn’t help but feel more disconnected than before. There were an infinite number of people on the other side of the screen, so why on earth did I feel so alone?

I thought it was down to the whole experience feeling like a job interview. There's nothing wrong with asking basic questions, but when there's no sexual tension or playful banter, it feels the same as introducing yourself in the first week of uni. Body language, the initial attraction, and even smell is lost, leaving you with a dry chat full of meaningless facts.

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WORDS BY Ella McEwan @ellamac.jpg ART BY Carla J. Romano @crmn.studio

When we don’t have access to these visceral measures of connection, combined with the number of potential matches, we have so many options that if someone isn’t ticking all your boxes, we ditch them. And why not; if I have access to plenty of guys within my set radius, why waste my time?

After these thoughts wormed their way into my brain, I freaked out. Am I commodifying these men, being shallow, judging a person off a couple photos and their favourite song?

Am I the ghoster I say I hate?

I’m no math expert, but in the thousands of matches I’ve had, there has to have been a number of guys I could’ve dated. I could have missed out on the love of my life while I was looking at the next person on the screen.

This might just be my dramatic Jane Austen brain at work, chasing the ‘will they won’t they’ found only in the real world. I missed the subtext in conversation, the stolen glances, the late night texts, and nerves when they ask to hang out.

I know people have matched and entered into successful relationships, I’ve seen it happen.

But these examples almost feel like exceptions to the rule. I think for a lot of us, we meet up, go out and even hook up, and then never talk again. Unless that’s what you’re after, it can be isolating. Soon enough we’re back, looking for the next person, and it feels lonely as hell.

Maybe I’m not suited to online dating, but I’m not convinced any of us are. We’re social creatures, who need face to face relationships to stay connected. The most concerning part is that it’s so easy to forget there’s a person on the other side of the screen.

So, to all the boys I swiped right on, messaged, and ghosted, I’m sorry. I used you to fill a quarantine induced void, and not that I think you’ll care, but you might feel vindicated to know it blew up in my face. We’ll find the right match eventually; it may just take longer than expected.

But don’t let those rich Silicon Valley bigwigs discourage you from swiping. You don’t have to delete dating apps; you just need to know how to use them.

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It sounds crazy, but it was actually a relief when I realised Tinder’s business model relies on people not finding love. Our endless swiping is dollar signs, which is not to say the CEO is an evil genius hell-bent on destroying love, it’s just the truth. In 2019, Tinder made $1.2 billion in revenue, making up half the annual earnings for parent company Match Group.

The general consensus amongst dating experts is that we should be meeting up with matches as soon as possible. So when quarantine is over, send a couple of flirty ‘get to know you’ messages and lock in a date. According to them, the existential crisis brought on by your new all consuming loneliness can be avoided by just going out.

Existential Hour:

A Reflection on Social Connection Media WORDS BY Vivian Tang

ART BY Madison Marshall @madagasc.art

ESPERANTO

Social media. We’re akin to it because it’s entrenched in a way that feels true to us, a part of us. But I’m concerned about how it affects us.

We’re not just the generation that grew up with it, we’re the generation who defended it because it’s a world that feels so intensely ours.

When current affair news condemned social media, we sought to redeem it. We scrambled to find ‘friends,’ spread love with likes and thoughts with comments. We ‘connected’ with people. It’s ‘just like the real thing!’ but all within our fingertips. Concern was unnecessary because we had done it. Hadn’t we? We proved it was a positive force of nature, a wholehearted chapter on human evolution. It felt right. In a world in which we belonged and knew intimately, why would we question it?

“I think many of us are getting the anxieties of connection rather than the nourishment of it.”

— Ezra Klein Social media does not socially connect us.

It does not satiate our need for belonging.

We’re social beings, but we need to be socially connected in a way that feeds us.

This is our reality; we operate within a system that tells us to look outward because there is no comfort in looking within. If we’re not ‘connected,’ refreshed nor updated, we’re deficient in some way. We’re one step behind in a world that’s two steps forward. So, we don’t stop to listen; we scream to be heard. Even if you’re overwhelmed, even if you remove yourself from these social networks, you still live in a world which they shape and create. It’s a brief moment of freedom that mutates into a fear of missing out. So, you choose the former. It’s the lesser of two evils. Connect or be forgotten.

We believed in a world that believed in us. Were we naïve? I don’t think so. But I do believe, right now, we’re a generation that’s lost. Tremendous suffering has resulted from war over territory 18

and ideology, but for us, our generation, we’re in the war of the mind. We believe in a misconstrued interpretation of the world. It’s a world without context. It’s a binary world that’s unwilling to accept those that fall in between. You’re accomplished or a failure. Popular or unpopular.

It’s a polarised system where we’re forced to pick and choose but never sit and ponder, talk and BE HEARD. But then again, it’s not really our world. It’s a system that promotes surface level understanding. I’m asking myself; I’m asking you — how can we truly connect if we fail to understand one another?

The internet took away my process of identity.

Unable to understand myself, I’m even more confused about those around me. How do people know me, how can they truly connect with me, when I can’t even connect with myself?

I can’t hear my own voice. I’m a 20-year-old afraid to validate my own opinions of the world because they no longer feel like my own. The world feels so crowded and I feel guilty for taking up any more space.

It’s the consequence of a socially disconnected world. We withdraw from meaningful insight and authentic social connections. We distract rather than feel because the ordinary drudge of the day has the power to submerge us entirely in shame and guilt. So, we look for the fleeting moments in life to get us through it all.

But I ask, why are we here if not for genuine connection? When we are deeply connected to other people, we’re willing to listen. We lean into their way of looking at the world. We choose to stand together on common ground because it fulfils us in a way that virtual connection cannot.

It’s not just about putting the phone down.

It’s about reclaiming the way that we were born to live, through meaningful social connection.

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Memorabilia ART BY Charlotte Elwell @cse.designs

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But Dad, I Love Him!

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It was Christmas when I told someone I loved them; I was 15 and had these horrifying red and green coloured braces on.

Young love is a funny thing, it seems silly and frivolous, but don’t rain on the hormone-frenzied parade.

WORDS BY Tricia Rivera @triciaarivera ART BY Ying Xuan @valentinedsgn

I know it’s hypocritical of me to be judgemental when I see 13-year-olds declaring their love for each other in their Instagram bios, because I used to do the exact same thing. I’m snarky about it, no doubt, but I also think there’s something so wonderfully awkward and wholesome when dating on the brink of your teen years: the wide-eyed glances, the sweaty-weird-handholding, the first kiss that you think is going to be magical but just turns out to be an amusement park of saliva.

But in all seriousness, it is this kind of pre-pubescent relationship, in all its awkward glory, that has shaped me into who I am today.

THE CONNECTION ISSUE 2020

I’ve been with the same person since I was 15 years old, and I still remember when we met. It was in math class, I had ombre hair that offered no gradient between my natural black hair and its blonde ends, and he had a rather shameful bowl cut. We sat on opposite sides of the classroom and I would laugh at every joke he’d tell.

But now, with both our hair salvaged (thankfully), and my peoplepleasing traits subsided, I can say the best part of our young love is that I have grown up with him. To be with someone that long through pivotal moments in my life meant I had a supporter beside me in all my endeavours and throughout all the times I’ve wanted to scream into my pillow and disappear.

Besides making me happy, my relationship let me know that someone was not only there for me, but there for everything I wanted to do, and that made me feel valued.

I was always one to think twice and ask questions like am I good enough to do this thing? or what would others think of me?, but having the unwavering support of my partner made me feel so sure of myself. For every job interview, I’d call him to dispel my nerves and he’d answer, listing all the reasons why I’m qualified.

For every piece of writing I’d put out, he’d be the first to share it and really read it — he’d even remember the tiniest details I’d written about.

My point is not to guarantee you a long-lasting relationship at 15 (not that a lot of people want that anyway), but rather to say that if not love, connection is possible and real for young relationships, and shouldn’t be undermined.

You’ll always learn something from your high school relationships.

Maybe one of your partners helped you be more sure of yourself?

Or pushed you? Maybe they were just straight-up shitty and now you know what you want and don’t want in a relationship.

Either way, at the end of the day, any healthy happiness derived from a relationship (romantic, platonic, or with your cat) shouldn’t be drowned by the judgement of an outside spectator.

I say go for it, let life run its course, and don’t take shit from anybody.

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ESPERANTO

Boozy Bathroom Besties Would you walk into a restroom sober and compliment someone on their outfit? Recommend they leave their partner and insist that you have brunch the next day? I personally err on the side of: over-my-stone-cold-SteveAustin-body on that one.

There’s something (and it’s not a mystery) about the lubricating qualities of alcohol and drugs that facilitate our social interactions to flow at a greater pace, a more comfortable ease. When weed or wine intertwine our nights, it’s strangers that sometimes become better friends than the ones we arrived with. Albeit briefly.

There’s a nervousness to socialising sober, even for the boldest of us. That’s not to say the only way is to get yourself shit-faced before every event, lest you be faced with the daunting task of having to *gulp* talk to someone, but it is no secret many of us do find it easier to be ourselves — or perhaps someone we’d rather be — when we’ve had a wine or three or a cheeky puff or two.

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So when did we forget how to be ourselves and does everyone feel the same way?

Studies from the University of Pittsburgh suggest that using alcohol to help us lose our inhibitions in social situations can be attributed to a few key points: 1—

It helps us stay in the moment: we’re less concerned about what’s happening tomorrow and what happened today as we are about what’s happening now.

2—

It reduces our anxiety about unpredict- able threats (this, as we all know, can be a very bad thing).

3—

It boosts our capacity to become closer to people (I feel like I’ve known you forever…).

ART BY Lillian Busby @lillian.design

The invisible cape that alcohol and drugs wrap around us makes us stand-up comedians, psychologists, professional dancers, the life of the party, and the fierce defenders of every upset girl we meet in the bathroom stalls.

Which brings me to the point: nowhere (and I mean nowhere) is this better demonstrated than in toilets.

At work or school during the day, we avoid eye contact at all costs and pee with incredible speed once we hear anyone else enter the bathroom. We politely nod while we wash our hands, a fake smile plastered on our faces, as Audrey from accounts tells us — yet again — about her cat’s surgery recovery.

But at night, we’re new people. We hold doors for each other, warn each other of broken or messy stalls, compliment lipsticks and outfits and hold back hair. We’re besties, bathroom besties. We make promises. We schedule brunches and set up sobbing stall-room stunners with cousins to quell tears. We’re nurses and counsellors, mums and bodyguards.

The friends I've made while white wine wasted can’t be counted. I'm the hostess with the mostest, I suddenly own the bar and am shouting at people left, right and centre. I’m providing advice, I’m consoling, I’m cajoling, I’m charming, I’m disarming. And in the morning… I’m generally alarming (looking).

I can’t for love or money remember 99 percent of these people, but I know that in the moment they were the FUNNIEST or PRETTIEST people I'd ever met and we were TOTALLY going to catch up for brunch and go to that other bar next week. So what’s the real harm (kidney, liver, brain, collagen and wallet aside) for that opportunity to shed some stress and release some endorphins by meeting someone nice, making someone laugh, drying up some tears, and giving some advice. Even if only for a night.

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THE CONNECTION ISSUE 2020

WORDS BY Stephanie Booth @birdyanne

Taking Out The Toxins

ESPERANTO

At the beginning of this year, I started talking to a boy who broke my heart. We never dated, never hooked up, never even liked each other.

We were just friends. Saying it like that — just friends — makes it sound like it was nothing important, no emotions involved.

We were just friends, and then we weren’t.

There was no big dramatic break up, no vicious fight; one day we were sitting next to each other and the next we were on opposite sides.

He stopped talking to me, so I stopped talking to him.

We’ve never spoken about it. I never got to ask why that happened or what I did wrong.

It’s weird to ask someone you didn’t date for closure on a relationship, weird to talk to your other friends about why they won’t talk to you, weird to cry about it. You just have to accept it ending without a neat reason or explanation and move on.

I’ve found that the best way to do so is by filling your life with new people. Without that friend tethering you to certain groups and routines and corners of parties, it can be much easier to try new things and connect with other people.

With time, talking to new people can allow you to gain some perspective on the friendship.

Learning how a conversation should have two sides in which both people contribute, how a compliment should sound without barbs of criticism, how to argue face to face instead of behind each others’ backs. All the toxic elements of your friendship are slowly sucked out like the poison from a snake bite.

But as with any breakup, it’s likely that when a friendship ends, both parties are somewhat at fault. Dwelling on their faults alone not only destroys your chances of rebuilding the relationship, but also sets you up for failure when making new friends.

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WORDS BY Amy Jenkin @ranga102 ART BY Beth Philpotts @bethphilpotts_design

Until this year, I’d never asked myself why my friend stopped talking to me several years ago.

I’m still unsure of the exact reason it happened, but I accept that there was one — nothing comes out of the blue. In speaking to him this year I’ve been tentative, respectful and kind.

There are still some topics we dance around, still some moments he makes me angry, but I can acknowledge that he’s changed, he’s tried and we’re getting there.

We just drifted…

You continue to tell yourself: we’ll hang out after this semester, after she breaks up with her boyfriend, when the weather’s warmer, when we’re not so broke. These milestones pass and neither of you reach out. Then you’re too scared to reach out, because there’s so much pressure on that one coffee, or drink, or dinner being enough to bring you back together. If it’s not, there’s no point trying again because you don’t see each other much anyway. The more time you spend apart, the more that comes between you.

Lockdown has made this worse. That week you didn’t see someone has involuntarily become six weeks, which has become six months, and those friends you were already distant from could disappear altogether. This wide circle of friends I thought I had has shrunk and shrunk and now it feels like my social circle has a radius as restrictive as my 5km bubble.

Friendships aren’t based on labels, they aren’t contractual, they’re just based on trust. The faith that you’ll continue to find time to talk and care and look after one another despite having no obligation to do so.

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Everyone always says friends are forever while relationships can end at any time. In reality, friendships can end at any time too. Sometimes it’s as quick as one day you’re speaking and the next you’re not, other times it’s more subtle and they’ll slowly extract themselves from your life.

At first you’re seeing them once a week, then once a month, then just once a year at another friend’s party, and you’ve got nothing to say to each other anymore because your lives just don’t intersect.

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ESPERANTO

Finding Mr Right WORDS BY Xenia Sanut @xeniasanut

When I first met him, I was 12 and he was 11.

There were butterflies and our hearts were racing, but not for the reasons you may think.

I was going to a high school far from my primary school friends and I was nervous about meeting people, about starting anew. During introductions at our class’ orientation day, he said he went to my best friend’s old primary school.

Does he know her? I thought. Should I ask him? By planting those questions in my mind, I wonder whether fate sowed the seeds for young love then. Perhaps fate sowed them even earlier, when I first met my best friend and she told me the name of her old primary school, giving me the opportunity to even ask him. To tell you the ending, he didn’t know her, and if fate was at work, it sure worked at a snail’s pace — that was my second lesson.

Nothing happened for four years but during that time, I noticed that he held the door to let people pass, he borrowed books from the library often, he was witty, and that he was starting to notice me. The only issue was that

our conversations were rare and short, and honestly, I thought I was content with that.

If he wasn’t The One and we eventually went our separate ways, I would eventually come to terms with that. Then he messaged me after our literature class in Year 10. Just a couple of casual questions about school turned into sharing everything that you couldn’t know just through observation in class: our families, our worries and our joys. He was compassionate, intelligent, and he told me he liked me. I told him I liked him. And that was when I learnt my third lesson about soulmates — sometimes destiny needs a bit of prodding.

I did not know he was The One immediately like I thought soulmates would, and our fouryear long story has not played out like a typical romance film. The music did not reach its crescendo when we had our clumsy first kiss, but it is now a moment that we laugh and tease each other about. He gags at cheesy lines, but I know that the sentimental things he does say come from a sincere place of love. We were not elected formal king and queen, in fact, we did not even go to formal; instead I dragged him into a spontaneous dance while shopping at Coles. We sometimes disagree, break each other’s hearts and it takes a while to patch it up again. However, he knows the contents of my soul better than anyone else. Some people may find a kindred soul in a friend, a family member or a stranger, but it takes time and courage to know a person’s soul. It is ultimately a compromise between you and destiny. Fate can only lead you part of the way, the rest is up to you to discover yourself. In my love story so far, that was the last lesson I learnt — you have a role in creating and finding your soulmate.

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I breathe the world of meet-cutes, dramatic confessions of love, and kisses in the rain. My bedroom wall had references to my favourite love stories plastered across it, and each night I would fall asleep imagining who my soulmate would be, when we would meet, and how we would tell our story to our children and grandchildren. To me, a soulmate was someone who, with a glance or a short conversation, already understood me and loved me for all that I was.

My daydreams, my waking moments and my sole happiness rested on this imaginary person, and now that I think I have met him, I have learnt my first lesson about soulmates: the person of your dreams is different to the person destiny pairs you with.

ART BY Mikhail Volkov @adam_wolf3

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Questions that Lead to Love As someone who has never been in a longterm relationship before, I pounced at the thought of simply asking 36 curated and personal questions for a chance at falling in love. It was a no-brainer. Everyone wants to be loved.

But did it work? Spoiler alert: it didn’t.

Believe me, I gave it a red-hot go, but these intimacy-inducing questions by psychologist Dr Arthur Aron are just that: they build intimacy, not love.

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WORDS BY Emma Anvari @emma_anvari ART BY Ruth Ong @ongdotcom

The first time I tried these questions I was in my first year of university, meeting up with someone from Tinder for the first time, and recording the whole thing for a podcast episode. Yes, I recorded my first ever Tinder date and published it online in all its raw glory (search up my name and Do Talk to Strangers).

And to be frank, it was a mistake — less so the questions, and more the person.

He was nice and good-looking enough, but I just was not into him. So even though the questions certainly helped us understand each other, break the ice, and reveal our entire life stories to each other (seriously, Q11 makes you recount your entire life in four minutes), the fact I was in denial about my lack of attraction meant we were never going to fall in love. Let me tell you now, the four minutes of eye contact were ridiculously awkward.

It was with my first boyfriend and this time I was incredibly attracted to him in every sense of the word. We’d been seeing each other for a few weeks and wanted to learn about each other as fast as we could, so I suggested the questions and he agreed.

Not only did the questions make us reveal our most intimate thoughts, fears and dreams, but it brought us together. We were emotionally vulnerable in a way no new couple is after a mere fortnight of knowing each-other (we also met on Tinder). We completed the entire set in each other’s arms and the four minutes of eye-contact were beautiful. Nowhere near the pain of the first time. I was also lucky my partner was someone who was not afraid to be vulnerable — something I think is vital to the success of these questions.

We discovered we had the same values, similar fears, and both prioritised family and friendship over anything else. In a moment of deep emotion he also opened up to me about the book he was writing and was hesitant to share.

It was personal secrets and sensitive topics like this which forced us to take a leap of faith to trust each other. A mere three days later we became exclusive.

Yes, we did eventually break up. But the questions ensured that while we were together, we were as close as could be.

I’ve probably completed the questions five times since 2018. In that time I’ve realised undertaking these questions will be a fruitless endeavour if you and your partner do not agree to open up to each other from the onset.

If you’re not willing to discuss your most terrible memory (Q18), your childhood (Q23), or share something important the other person ought to know about you should you two become close friends (Q27), you’re wasting your time.

Short, succinct, thoughtless answers defeat the purpose of this social experiment. Rushing it is also meaningless. The questions can take anything between 45 minutes and three hours.

There’s no hurry!

If you struggle to open up, need an ice breaker with a love interest, or want a fun game for you and your current partner that also doubles as a way to get to know each other better, then these are the questions for you.

Can you build a romantic connection?

Absolutely.

You just have to give it a proper chance.

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The second time was much better.

ESPERANTO

When I Grow Up

I’ve never really found myself interested in anything else. Trust me, I’ve tried drama, gymnastics (I was lowkey pretty good), piano, guitar, and don’t even mention sports because I’m the least coordinated person you’ll ever meet. None of them really stuck. But art class was my favourite two hours of the week, and I never missed a single one. As a kid, I churned drawings out like a machine, pages filled with every single colour of crayon, pencil, or marker I could find — my mum has collected about eight display folders of my scribbles to prove this.

These creative juices seemed to stop every time life got busy, only trickling their way into the margins of my notebook in English class as we discussed Romeo and Juliet.

When the last couple years of high school came, I realised I still liked making art but enjoyed more defined forms of it, preferring isometric drawings and branding design in VisCom over expressive and open briefs in Studio Art. By the end of Year 12, I knew I wanted to do Communication Design, and applied to RMIT with a little folio of design projects I’d rather not look at today. The biggest sacrifice I had to make was leaving schoolies a couple of days early to attend my interview, which doesn’t sound as significant right now, but I promise you it hurt.

But not nearly as much as reading the email that said I didn’t get accepted, anyway.

After getting rejected, I instantly second guessed myself — I wondered if design was a good idea or if I would be better at something else instead. I mean, I was good at biology (I could memorise definitions) and enjoyed it (relatively), so why not? I almost made the impulsive decision to change my first preference to a degree in Biomedical Sciences, but looking back, I am so fucking glad I didn’t.

I eventually accepted a spot at Monash for a Bachelor of Communication Design, and I haven’t looked back since. I’ve really enjoyed uni so far and probably wouldn’t be able to say the same if I convinced myself that I wanted to do Biomed; honestly, who was I kidding?

Uni taught me that I liked branding, was okay with basic UX, was average at illustration, really enjoyed type, but am most into print and publication (so far). Graduating from the pages of Winx Club, to Dolly, Girlfriend, Frankie, and finally Esperanto, I guess some part of me knew I’d get into magazines one day. Though it feels inevitable, I’m praying screens don’t replace the feeling of flicking through real life publications one day, or if they do, I hope that just like record players and film cameras resurfacing, we learn to appreciate publication design more in the future. Perhaps I’ll continue finding happiness in the pages of printed magazines, or maybe this will end as a phase. Though I’m still unsure of what I really want to pursue in design after I graduate, I’m enjoying the process of figuring it out.

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Growing up, I never really had a solid idea of what I wanted to do, and to be perfectly honest, I still don’t. Since I can remember, I’ve been connected to my creative side like it was another state of existence for me. My creative juices flow in phases; sometimes they don’t come at all and I’ll go months with nothing, but when they hit, it’s an A1 pencil drawing of Frank Ocean in lockdown 1.0.

WORDS & COLLAGE BY Marissa Hor @marissa.pdf

ESPERANTO

To Be Human WORDS BY Zayan Ismail @zayan.dan ART BY Emma Lucas @emlucasart

For Gautama Buddha Manushya is Sanskrit for an animal with a mind or those who can reach enlightenment. For Gods and Goddesses they are mere mortal beings. For Aristotle, it is to have telos or an ultimate aim or an objective in life. For the delegates that drafted the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, it is those that are part of a larger family, having been recognised of their inherent dignity and of the equal and inalienable rights for the foundation of freedom, justice, and peace in the world. Despite the divisiveness of the societies we belong to with its religions, castes, races, strata, and politics, we all have one thing in common: we are all human beings. A simple concept that has lost its original appeal and we often forget its significance. So what does it truly mean to be human?

Scientifically speaking, we belong to a species with a unique capacity to use our brains to think and articulate the world around us. We have levels of consciousness and intelligence that allow us to converse in different languages.

We have the emotional capacity to feel the highs and lows of life. We can empathise, love, hate, laugh, be angry, feel sad, and sometimes do it all in one day. Being human constitutes the potential to tap into our brains and take control of our actions. It is the ability to create, produce, and manufacture different technologies. Scientists have named the current epoch we live in to be the Anthropocene. It connotes how we as humans are the main drivers of the climate

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Anatomically, building on the notions of evolution, we are Homo sapiens.

The participle Sapiens connotes being wise, sensible, and discerning. We are a subspecies of mammals that have evolved to walk on hind legs and connect with one another through judgement and emotional ties. Initially being hunter gatherers, humans have socialised to form communities. Perhaps this is the unique qualification of being human; it is our ability to connect that has led to new discoveries and the era of technological advancement.

Indeed, our technologies are connecting us throughout these difficult times. The period of enlightenment and the advancement of science has led us to the discovery of medical treatments and vaccines. It has saved our communities from deadly diseases and improved our overall health. Humanity is continuing in its effort to persevere despite the circumstances.

we understood the power of individuals and the ability to control populations via governance.

Whether it be through democracy or autocratic despots, humanity has understood the wielding power of politics to assemble and voice one’s opinion. Throughout history, people have sought justice, liberty and freedom from tyranny. The human endeavour continues to fight for and provide those fundamental rights aforementioned in the charter of the United Nations.

When it all boils down to one single question, humanity becomes hard to properly define in a succinct response. Humans are a mixed bag of identities, varied in colours, opinions, and abilities. It could be down to science, biology, even our minds and our actions. To be human is to embrace all these aspects of our being, it is to appreciate the flaws and work towards doing good. Despite the purported divisions, we are all part of one special mould. It is our humanity that connects us all.

On a more social level, humans are indeed civic and communal creatures. The thirst for societal organisation led to the formation of civilisations in Egypt, Mesopotamia, China, Greece and Rome. From a very early period, 35

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and natural environment. Notwithstanding our control, the science and consensus is clear on our actions on the climate. We as human beings have the potential to destroy, spread hate, and divide our societies.

Hating Boomers and Other Universal Connections

ESPERANTO

During the course of my young life, I have met so many different people with whom I think I have nothing in common. In a time of social distancing, radical social change and political upheaval, it’s easy to feel like we have no connection to the other 7.8 billion people we share this planet with. But in reality there are some things that are universal. There are things which every person on this planet will experience, whether it be joy, heartbreak or that feeling of general confusion and chaos the morning after a night out.

These ubiquitous experiences provide the basis for human connection. Universal loves and universal hates can bring people together, or at the very least start a conversation. So here is a list of universal loves and hates for you to use the next time you want to strike up a conversation with someone on a night out, remove the awkward silence between you and your hairdresser, or simply, just make some new friends.

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WORDS BY Dena Tissera @dena_c_t ART BY Sophie McKenzie-Stripp @sophiemcks

Let’s begin with universal hates because the author of this piece is a Scorpio and hating stuff is her forte.

Now for some universal loves, because positivity is cool.

1—

1—

Dolores Umbridge

Nature

No matter how cold your heart is, we can all appreciate a beautiful sunrise or a pretty flower.

Try taking your group project meeting outside to make the process a little less painful.

2—

2—

Capitalism

Pro tip: scream “EAT THE RICH” in a public place for instant connection with your fellow comrades.

3—

The Beep Test

Admittedly, this one is specific to those who went to primary school in the Melbourne ‘burbs, however, I can guarantee bringing this up with a stranger will elicit a strong emotional response from both you and them. It is a universal truth that best friendships are born out of mutual hatred.

4—

Boomers

A hate so strong it persists across generations. They’ve ruined the housing market and destroyed the environment, the least they could do is help you make some friends?

Try replacing the awkward silence in your breakout room with a lively discussion of why boomers suck.

5—

Men

Just kidding… unless? While misandry is out of the question, stories of heartbreak can always bring people together, particularly if you’re a drunk girl surrounded by equally drunk girls in the bathroom of the club.

Spending $500 on skincare when your life is in shambles

Feel free to swap skincare for plants or clothes or anything else that makes a person feel like they have their life together. Bring up this unhealthy coping mechanism with a stranger and you’re likely to gain a friend or at the very least, a recommendation for moisturiser.

3—

Pens that glide beautifully

You know the ones, the kind that make you actually want to take notes in a lecture. A perfect conversation starter for the first day of class.

4—

Jacinda Ardern

A true queen beloved by all. You don’t have to be in a politics class to ask “how cool is Jacinda?”

Try it on your barista and see if you can get a new friend or at least a free coffee out of it.

5—

She’s the Man (2006)

An absolute classic film, the Casablanca of our generation. Gather your courage and ask a stranger if they like cheese.

Here’s hoping this list of universal loves and hates lead you to a new friend, a new romance, or a good conversation. Connections to our fellow humans are everywhere, whether it’s hating Dolores Umbridge or that impulse to snap a pic of the sky at golden hour. Find them and use them well.

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There’s Karen, Sharon, and then there’s Dolores. Making fun of people is no way to make friends, EXCEPT when you’re making fun of Dolores Umbridge.

It Was Connell’s Chain For Me…

ESPERANTO

It was just last year when I was searching through a bookstore, an unlikely place for me to usually be, where I came across a small red covered novel, Normal People. I can’t lie, I most definitely judged the book by its cover — the design on the front was what captured my attention. I read the blurb and did my routine review of the font size and number of pages.

Other non-readers will understand the influence of these factors in choosing the perfect book. After putting far too much effort into the process of tossing up whether or not to make the purchase, I decided to go for it.

Some time after finishing the captivating love story, it was methodically announced that a TV adaptation was going to be released. Quickly, the nature of my past fandom tendencies began to emerge. I reached out to friends who had also engaged in the passionate Irish tale, and needed to know their thoughts.

After premiering, it took a few weeks for me to build up the courage to watch it. If you have been part of a fandom before you will understand the stress of a new album, movie, or concert. With this comes two types of people. On one hand we have those who sit at their laptop, blue light enhancing their alertness, as they wait for the exact minute the album is dropped so they can be the first to witness it. On the other, we have the crowd that is simply too overwhelmed by their emotions to consume it immediately. These are my people. We need four to five business days to process what is happening.

Surprisingly, during a busy week of uni I decided it was the perfect time to binge watch all 12 episodes in two days. It was amazing.

It didn’t take me long to follow the leading actors and actresses on social media. That’s when I came across the absurd, yet whimsical, Instagram account that purely posted about Connell and his titillating chain. I tagged my friends in the many memes that made me laugh and it was at this point I began to feel part of a new community.

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WORDS BY Alice Wright @alicewrt ART BY Jackie Liu @jackieldesign

I have felt this way before, this was not a new position for me to be in. A position where a social media page that existed only to post photos of an inanimate object didn’t come across as entirely unusual.

In the earlier years of high school, I was that person who cried about Zayn Malik leaving One Direction in the corridors outside classrooms on the 25th of March 2015. I was completely wrapped up in the lives of the members of this band and I can confidently say it took up a chunk of my life.

High school is a tough time. This is something everyone can agree on. In a short number of years you are forced to find yourself, create and maintain friendships,and decide what to do with your life. Like most people, I struggled.

I battled to create connections from 9.00am to 3.00pm, then I would come home and switch to my online life, where I could share my interests with millions of people.

I had online friendships with people I still have yet to meet, I would read detailed stories and watch remixed videos other members of the passionate community would create, and together we would support Harry, Louis, Liam, Niall and Zayn through absolutely everything.

I found that being a One Direction stan distracted me from facing real life. Connecting to people who knew virtually nothing about you other than your obsession with a band makes it easy to open up about your struggles. It becomes a place to find support for your wins.

As I aged, my infatuation slowly dissolved.

To this day, I notice habits in my behaviour towards things I like that are ingrained from my past fandom days. I am an ‘all in’ kind of person.

Every time I consume something that I love, I get excited to see what other people have to say about it, who else is interested. I’ll search for further ways I can consume this thing.

The hunt for a sense of community will always remain consistent for me. When you take away the TV show, the band or the book series, you are faced with friendships, shared conversations and support. The common interest is just an excuse to foster a connection.

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Familial Connection It started with arguments between my parents, and soon a divorce followed. At 14, the nightmare of living with an alcohol dependent mother culminated in finally moving in with my dad for what I thought would be a new, stable beginning. Yet when I was greeted with long working hours and regular absences to visit an overseas girlfriend, my idea of belonging to some tight-knit family further dissipated.

ESPERANTO

Estranged relationships and scattered family members seemed a stark contrast to the movies I had spent so much time watching as a child. Cheaper By the Dozen, Love Actually, Home Alone, all favourites that projected ideas of family life that everyone appeared to have, except me. For a short time, I couldn't help but wonder when I was going to have the family with the white picket fence, matching Christmas jumpers and nothing to show but Colgate sparkling smiles. Yet as the lack of family connection and stability I felt became a constant presence, I gave up on this idea almost as soon as I had conjured it. The void only seemed to grow, yet rather than hope for drastic changes to occur within my family, without even realising, I began to construct my own.

Upon starting high school, the physical playground became an emotional one, self esteem issues surfaced, and a myriad of other traumatic experiences that came along with puberty arose. Turbulent times called for a consistent shoulder to cry on. Yet when friends offered more support and trust in facing these issues than any blood relative ever had, they were no longer mere friends but vitally needed sisters. With even greater unprecedented personal challenges, psychologists and school counsellors — while perhaps only a brief presence — offered support and guidance that yet again seemed absent from my family. Bosses and managers showed consistent care too and it wasn’t long before work events trumped family functions. Even major holidays, with the arguments I knew would ensue, meant that I couldn't think of anyone I wanted to spend Christmas day with more than just my best friend.

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As I distanced myself more and more from family however, conflict soon appeared. Outraged at my apparent dismissal of family life, arguments with my parents caused pangs of guilt to surface. After all, they brought me into this world, cared for me, fed me, clothed me, were pleasant at times, and bought me things too. For these acts, it was tempting to sweep traumatic experiences and negative behaviour under the carpet. Block them out and simply forget — it was easy to succumb to the guilt as each time I let myself believe that I could forget the ‘not so sunny’.

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Yet the belief that I deserved better prevailed, as my mental health continually didn’t. Today, I remind myself and others that you’re not betraying your family by refusing to accept their toxic behaviors. Relatives have a part of the contract to uphold in having a relationship with you, just as anyone else does. Blood relation doesn’t excuse them from this — if the contract has been broken, you have the right to free yourself from its binds.

The instances of my parents, aunts, uncles, and other adults speaking of and complaining about the measures they took to please their parents reminded me that they hold different, yet outdated beliefs. I began to think that when we make it known that certain behaviors or interactions don't serve us, it may not be our disobedience that frustrates our family. Maybe it’s simply the uncomfortable realisation that they themselves didn't have the courage to say no to toxic and negative behaviors but that you do.

WORDS BY Malena Frey @malenafrey ART BY Lily Li @iiii.pdf

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ESPERANTO

Yours Sincerely,

Twenty-First Century Tired.

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An open letter to anyone overwhelmed by the need they feel to be constantly accessible.

ART BY Jessie Liu @jessiexliu

To you, Yes you, reading this on a screen as your phone sits nearby, a mere vessel for messages from those you know (and sometimes, those you don’t), hassling you for answers you may not yet be ready to give.

In case you’ve forgotten, you did not sign a contract upon purchase of said device to be constantly accessible to the world around you. And the notion that you should be is both unrealistic and unnecessary.

It is simply unrealistic that you be available and within only an arm’s reach of your phone at all hours of the day. You might have a job, a family, you might be sick, the list is endless.

But also, sometimes you just might not be in the mood to converse through a pocket-sized screen as you go about your life. And guess what, that’s okay too.

Just because you can be reachable around the clock doesn’t mean you should be. The idea that you should be is built on the fact that it’s possible, and if you’re being honest with yourself, that’s not a very good reason. As a society, we seem to have convinced ourselves that we owe each other, and equally are entitled access to one another’s lives from a distance.

We’ve all done it before: tried to contact someone through one platform and used their lack of response in the following five minutes as reason to contact them on another. Why do we do that? We know that if they could and they wanted to respond, they would. Why do we think we are so absolutely entitled to their time that we should pester them for it? If we’re pestering them, maybe we’re not actually all that deserving?

If you think about a time before modern-day technology, this behaviour would be considered wrong and completely inappropriate. If in the space of two hours you left a voicemail and never received a response, followed it with an email to no avail, and decided that you would then show up at the person’s house, all because you needed advice on what shirt to wear to your dinner date two weeks from now, the person on the receiving end of all your efforts would likely be left feeling more violated than appreciated.

It seems extreme but when thought about simply, it’s not all that different.

Look, it’s okay to feel overwhelmed by the constant buzzing in your pocket or the dinging of your device. It’s okay to ignore that DM until you have the mental energy to respond to it.

And it’s okay to set boundaries with the people in your life when it comes to your availability.

Start prioritising your self care over the illinformed expectations of the often-tooconnected world around you.

Have your downtime. Own your space.

Don’t apologise for it.

Yours sincerely, Twenty-First Century Tired.

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You know what the funny thing about that is?

That’s okay. In case you’ve forgotten lately, it’s okay to want space from your device and the endless possibilities for connection that it carries.

WORDS BY Coby Renkin @cobyhr

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THE CONNECTION ISSUE 2020

COLLAGES BY Ying Xuan @valentinedsgn

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Why Does Heartbreak Hurt?

“I thought that I'd been hurt before but no one’s ever left me quite this sore. Your words cut deeper than a knife” — ‘Stitches’, Shawn Mendes

WORDS BY Victoria Baikie

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"We only said goodbye with words. I died a hundred times. You go back to her. And I go back to. I go back to us” — ‘Back to Black’, Amy Winehouse “And who do you think you are? Runnin' 'round leaving scars. Collecting your jar of hearts.

And tearing love apart” — ‘Jar of Hearts’, Christina Perri Apart from all being featured on a BuzzFeed article featuring quotes to get you through a break up, these three song lyrics have a lot in common. They all talk about heartbreak being physical: words from a lover leaving scars, needing stitches, etc. When we go through heartbreak it can have physical impacts, but why?

Going through heartbreak is very similar to grief. When you end a relationship with someone, you end the structure of your life, and the life you may have planned for with that person. Whether you stay friends or cease contact, the break up changes the way you know that person and the level of intimacy between you. Not just chitty chitty bang bang intimacy, but also emotional intimacy. So when you end a relationship, you are essentially grieving for the person you have lost, even if they are still alive.

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The end of a relationship may also cause a lot of stress, especially if it is sudden. It changes plans and can disrupt a person's life in ways they don’t want. Financial and living situations can come into play as well, and intertwined friendship groups can make it even more complicated. Stress can change the way we may react and disrupt our sleeping habits, appetite, and concentration.

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Sometimes when we grieve or experience heartbreak, it can feel excruciatingly physically painful. It feels quite literally like our hearts have broken in half, like we’re unable to breathe properly, or like there is a hole in our stomachs. This is because our brain recognises the emotional pain as physical and song lyrics — and many Taylor Swift albums — show that we often register this emotional pain as such.

Early studies that examine the brain and how it reacts to love have shown that love is a drug, one to which we can become addicted. In one such study, when a person is shown a picture of their partner while under a fMRI, love activates in the caudate nucleus through a flood of dopamine. In simpler terms, this is commonly known as goal-orientated behaviour, and is what keeps us coming back for more. Nicotine and cocaine follow the same pattern — a flood of dopamine that activates the caudate nucleus. Through this thinking we can assume that when we go through a break up, we are dealing with withdrawal symptoms from the drug of love.

Love does hurt, but it is how we recover that defines us. Time heals all wounds and what is meant to be will be. You can learn a lot from a break up and if you will take the lessons from your last relationship into the next, you’ll make it better than the last one. And hey, it might not hurt as much the next time.

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Reading Between The Stars

WORDS BY Natasha Schapova @nataschap_ ART BY Gabrielle Poh @gee_poh

ESPERANTO

In an increasingly connected world, it’s ironic that so many of us find ourselves feeling lonely and misunderstood. The hardest book to read is our own, and sometimes we feel as lost within ourselves as we do in a foreign country without a GPS. I’m sure many of us wished we could be handed a comprehensive blueprint to study the intricacies of our soul and to understand what genre we’d be filed under in a library. Perhaps this desperation for a concrete description of our character is why so many of us seek clarity in our star signs and direction from horoscopes.

They provide a false illusion that there’s some sort of structure to life and that it isn’t just a plethora of random events scattered in time.

Star signs allow us to feel strategically placed within a relevant bookshelf, surrounded by novels of a similar nature.

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But the categorical essence of star signs can lead astrology-enthusiasts to use zodiac sign descriptions as a ‘cheat sheet’ to the intimate details of someone they just met. In a society that teaches us to avoid judging others, we are quick to make preemptive assumptions of people based on their date of birth.

For some, star signs can be the difference between avoiding or pursuing someone.

Something so seemingly extraneous can be so significant, especially in Indian culture where horoscopes are matched before meeting a potential partner. This process, called ‘Kundali Matching’, is used to predict whether a partnership will be successful using the Sidereal system, rather than Western astrology.

In terms of scientific evidence, a lack of research to support the authenticity of astrology means that it is known widely as a pseudoscience.

However, psychologists have confirmed that there is a tendency for people to assume their horoscopes as self-fulfilling prophecies: if a horoscope is positive, readers tend to mirror it in their behaviour, therefore realising their horoscope and reinforcing their belief in it.

But whatever star sign you may be, there is something to say about how weirdly accurate they are. Sure, we’re not a definite representation of our sign but it is amusing to see some similarities. People may argue that the descriptions are too general and therefore could be applied to nearly anyone, but how do you explain that sometimes you just know that someone is a Sagittarius?

All in all, I think that believing in horoscopes is healthy as long as you don’t perceive them as an assessment rubric that you need to fulfil, but rather as a brief prompt that lends you inspiration without repealing your creativity.

Horoscopes are an insight into your personality, a recipe that should be very mildly followed, not a step by step guide.

And sure, there might not be any concrete evidence, but there are also many other things in life that are yet to be proven. Not everything in this world needs a formal explanation and sometimes it’s more fun to just accept things as they are, real or imaginary, but maybe that’s just the optimistic Aries in me.

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I myself am a proud Aries, and I’ve often found myself blaming my occasionally short temper on the fiery nature of my sign. Too many times I’ve excused my actions by saying Well, I’m an Aries. Rather than addressing the possible lack of control over my emotions, my star sign allows me to revel in the false sense of my destined identity. This can definitely be cataclysmic if people surrender themselves to their negative traits, rather than attempting to improve them.

I relate to the passionate, ambitious and adventurous features of my sign, but I disagree with the claim that Aries lack patience and are impulsive. I am someone who thoroughly thinks through my options, and, at least somewhat, actively pursues my goals. Sure, if I’m making insignificant plans such as what waterfall to visit on the weekend, I can be spontaneous, but when it comes to something like choosing a degree, I’m far from impulsive.

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Six Again The year is 2004. The month is March. It’s my sixth birthday, and you better believe I want to have a party, and invite all the new friends I’d made in my first ever term at primary school.

Here’s how it might’ve gone down.

WORDS BY Thiamando Pavlidis @thiamand_no ART BY Sally Ann Gething @sallyanngraphics

Food

The most important part of any party if you ask me. 2004 me, much like 2020 me, was very into costumes. It goes without saying that this would be a costume party. As a soon-to-besix-year-old, I would’ve picked a specific theme, probably “princess”, and/or “fairy”. Mum may have intervened and opened the dress code up to just “costume”, as I would likely have invited kids who did not want to be confined to such a restrictive dress code. I still would be wearing some kind of princess/fairy hybrid outfit, complete with pink glitter, sparkles, a plastic tiara, and those awful fairy wings with the wire frame that my hair would always get tangled in.

While it is true that I have been very fortunate coming from a Greek family with delicious food, I also live in Sandringham, where oregano in 2004 would’ve been considered “exotic.”

Instead, we’d opt for the classics: giant plastic bowls of chips (plain, thanks), mixed lollies, fairy bread, cocktail frankfurts, and maybe even what Mum would call “inoffensive greek food” — small homemade spanakopitas and maybe some mini meatballs. This was still ten times the amount of food at anyone else’s sixth birthday party. Mum would watch closely as the kids whose parents don’t usually allow them to eat junk food (or sugar/artificial colours/ anything that wasn’t carrot sticks) ignored the pastries and meatballs she spent time and effort making, and absolutely gorge themselves on lollies and chips, subsequently throwing up.

Music For this category, I actually went and flicked through my old CD collections to see which ones came out before 2004. Unfortunately my So Fresh: Hits of Autumn 2006 and Crazy Frog CDs didn’t make the cut. So instead, first up, we start with Hilary Duff’s Metamorphosis, but only the first two tracks — ‘So Yesterday’ and ‘Come Clean.’ I have no use for the rest of the tracklist. Following this would be Delta Goodrem’s Innocent Eyes, this time allowing for four or five songs. Now, the big guns: my Kylie Minogue two-disc Ultimate Kylie compilation album.

We’d skip straight to disc two (I wasn’t ready to appreciate the 80s Kylie hits just yet), and play through all the way to the end. I’m talking ‘Can’t Get You Out Of My Head’, ‘Spinning Around’ and ‘Love At First Sight’… all late nineties to 2003 Kylie hits. The only one we would skip was the last song, ‘Where The Wild Roses Go’, because we had the music video on an affiliated DVD and it used to scare me. I’m sure Mum would sneak in the Priscilla: Queen of the Desert soundtrack, but I’d allow it. Even at age six I was able to understand the power of disco.

The cake would have just been a Freddo Frog ice cream cake, because it had a definitive list of ingredients for the kids with allergies. Mum would also put together a nice antipasti platter with olives, dips, and sundried tomatoes for the parents who would arrive to pick up their children, but get roped into having a cheeky wine with Mum and Dad. Speaking to her now about it, she said it was just an excuse for her to drink after “all that.”

Games My parents would start the party off with some games, usually Simon Says and pass the parcel (to ‘Born To Try’ nonetheless) where everyone would end up with a small prize but eventually the kids would lose interest and gravitate to the trampoline. The invite would have said the party would go for only two hours; in reality, we’d be jumping on that trampoline ‘til nighttime as the adults drank more wine and polished off the meatballs and spanakopita.

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Dress Code

Law of Attraction WORDS BY Georgia Erin Cameron @a_spooky_peach ART BY Lisa Vullings @lisavullings.creative

Manifestation, Mind over Matter, The Law of Attraction…

These are all buzzwords currently floating around.

But what do they mean? Is it true that if you can think it you can do it? Well… it depends on who you ask. Let’s dive into what the Law of Attraction and manifestation are all about.

ESPERANTO

The concept of the Law of Attraction is attributed to New Thought philosophy, a spiritual movement originating from the 19th century. It appears in many other spiritual and philosophical movements, as well as text.

Originally, the concept appeared in Phineas Quimby’s writing. Quimby’s teachings are often attributed as the beginning of the New Thought Movement. In 1877, the term ‘Law of Attraction’ appeared in the work of Russian occultist Helena Blovetsky. Most recently, the concept has been popularised by the 2006 film and subsequent novel titled The Secret, and it is these works that have popularised the practice.

Simply put in the words of American psychologist David R Hawkins, “what one holds in their mind tends to manifest.” What Hawkins is saying is that what we focus on in our minds and put energy into will come into our lives just as we envision. For example, fearful thoughts harbour fears into reality. This is what the root of the Law of Attraction is. The belief is based on the concept of everything being made of energy, including our thoughts, and that energy attracts similar energy.

It is believed that the Law of Attraction is always at work, even affected by our subconscious thoughts.

It is a concept that has been heavily scrutinised as a pseudoscience as there is no scientific basis for the process. Other criticisms come from what some people in the New Age thought community would consider as a superficial understanding and application of manifestation. Often people may get frustrated when they come across this concept as they interpret it as a positive thinking technique. These people who engage superficially believe the technique is as simple as wishing for a promotion or whatever it is they desire, only to become disappointed in the technique when they do not get what they wish for.

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This technique requires more than just wishful thinking (however it helps to know what you want). The best way to describe manifestation is “practice meets perception creates reality.”

While I am pulling this quote from a horror podcast who were at the time discussing chaos magic, it is still fantastically applicable to the Law of Attraction. Many new thought and occult practitioners advocate for what is called ‘the work’, which encapsulates practicing the variety of techniques they ascribe to. For the Law of Attraction, the first half involves self observation of your thoughts and behaviour patterns.

What do you believe about yourself? Do you believe that you are capable of achieving what it is you desire to manifest?

Secondly, in order to sediment the goal of this practice, one must partake in rituals that help sediment the goal. This may be taking steps in order to achieve the goal, for example if your goal is a promotion you cannot simply think about it, you’d take steps to get the promotion.

It is often said by practitioners of manifestation that in order to achieve the desired outcome one must detach themselves emotionally from their desires — one must not rely on the outcome for happiness.

While the Law of Attraction may be a concept based on pseudoscience, there may be some value to it. Surely focusing on one's ability to do, create, or gain something, must have some positive impact on an individual whether they achieve their goal or not.

Personally, I’ve had an interest in occult philosophy since the previously noted horror podcast, Last Podcast on The Left, spoke on chaos magic in which the idea of perception-meets-ritualmeets-reality came up. The idea of manifestation arose again when I met my yoga teacher, and most recently as I’ve been making my way through David R Hawkins’ book Letting Go and Damien Echols’ book High Magick.

While philosophical, New Age, or occult teaching and practices should never replace therapy and professional care, I personally have found value in them. The last year has been tough on so many people, myself included.

I’ve found myself swallowed up by my own sadness, fear, and worry. In light of this, I’ve begun focusing more on things I want in my life, such as creativity. This manifestation of creativity isn't just about saying to myself I want to be creative, it's a process of finding opportunities to be creative. Hawkins talks about the idea of “like cataracts like” meaning what we do attracts more of it. Finding daily reasons to be creative has led to me being more creative in all that I do. Instead of just writing for at least 15 minutes a day, I’m now finding any excuse to be creative; I've taken out oil paints that havent seen the light of day in five years, I’m taking my camera everywhere I go, and I’m finding ways to be creative with uni as well. Hopefully I can manifest myself a job soon… One can only hope.

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A lack of ability to analyse one's own beliefs and thought patterns is often what causes people to struggle with this technique. One must practice the ability to visualise and feel what one's life might be like once the goal is achieved. This first part covers the perception part of the equation: your beliefs about yourself, what the goal is and feels like and your everyday thoughts impact the Law of Attraction.

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Connecting The Cultures

Some would say since I’m a Sagittarius I easily connect with people. This is mostly true. However, growing up bi-racial confused things when anxieties surrounding my identity tested how I connected to my family and my cultures.

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WORDS & ART BY Caitlin Johnston @caaityj

For all my bi-racial babies out there, I’m sure this sounds familiar. You attend an extended family gathering and looking around you feel a little out of place. It’s always discomforting when you look too white for one side and too dark for the other — always standing out in those group photos.

Only in the last one to two years was I able to visit where my parents grew up. We went to Mauritius where it was humid, tropical, and we spent every day by the beach. The following year we cut to an Irish winter, exploring the rolling countryside, trying to warm up with pints of Guinness. Having felt out of place in Australia for over 20 years, I was hoping for a lightbulb moment. A moment of feeling at home, of recognising features of myself in family members and hoping to see all the dots connect.

Recently though, lockdown has given me a few things: temporarily moving home to my parent’s house and copious amounts of free time. During this free time, I was able to dust off my pile of ‘to read’ books and finally crack into Avan Jogia’s collection of poems and stories entitled Mixed Feelings. A particular quote from Jess Gianatasio struck me; “I’ve recently discovered that we are the glue.

We are the bond, the adhesive, the cement in the middle. Who would have thought that a child could move continents? We blend cultures the way we blend families, through time and through love.”

While spending time at home waiting for lockdown to ease, I’ve decided to embrace a childlike curiosity, to stop denying my confusion and to learn as much as possible. This has included rummaging through my parents decaying photo albums, sitting with a cup of tea and bombarding them with questions, begging them to tell me stories from their childhoods, researching (aka. Wikipedia-ing) more about the history of their homelands, awkwardly facetiming family from overseas, and just progressively becoming prouder to be mixed-race.

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Alas, I didn’t experience a conclusive, exciting firework moment in either of the trips. Instead, it honestly felt like I was just adding more mess to it all.

Doesn’t that just hit you right in the feels? Sure, that one line didn’t magically heal years of identity crises and that outsider feeling I sometimes get, but it’s a nice sentiment that encourages me to view my cultures not as clunky and shambolic, but instead, as beautifully blended.

From all this action, I’ve recognised some specific activities that have helped me own my cultures more. It’s noting down the recipes of my mum’s favourite Mauritian meals, it’s learning my dad’s beloved Gaelic sayings, it’s asking my Mauritian aunties to make me a traditional Sega dress, it’s learning to play my dad’s Irish Bodhrán, it’s participating in some Mauritian traditions, it’s shamelessly listening to classic Irish pub music, and it’s being one of the few humans on this planet to forge these specific connections.

There’s a simple loveliness in keeping alive the seemingly unimportant elements of my parent’s foreign cultures.

A fellow bi-racial friend once told me that on our bad days it feels like we belong nowhere, but on our good days we belong everywhere.

Here’s to more good days! But on those bad days when you feel like a pile of pieces that don’t fit together, remember that we mixed babies are whole, multifaceted, beautifully complex beings.

So, I leave you with this: you’re allowed to reconnect to those cultures you only felt half a part of. There will be no lightbulb moment that extinguishes all identity doubt, but slowly and surely the dots will connect.

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Deal-breakers

We all have things that really get on our nerves or prevent us from taking it one step further in a relationship. Whether it be smoking, snoring, or just being plain annoying, deal-breakers can influence both platonic and romantic relationships. Here’s a list of trivial deal-breakers that I can’t stand.

Walking Slowly I’m sorry but if you’re a slow walker, not only can I not be friends with you, I will leave you behind if I’m walking with you. I have places to go, people to see, and things to do that do not take into account someone walking like a turtle.

Also, I can’t seem to understand why anyone would walk that slow. As a person who is in a constant state of anxiety, if I walked like a snail, I think I would burst. Is it possible for them to walk even slightly faster? Is there something stopping them? Or do they simply not care?

There are so many questions that have gone unanswered for so long, but I don’t have the time to find answers.

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Vegemite Eater Yes, I know, if I hate Vegemite, I must not be a real Australian. I’ve heard that phrase a thousand times, but trust me, I am both an Australian and a Vegemite hater. I can be both. In fact, I’ve always hated Vegemite and I can’t remember a time when I haven’t. Honestly (and I’m being dead serious) even the smell triggers my gag reflexes, to the point that I avoid touching the jar like the plague. Simply imagining eating the stuff is enough to send shivers down my spine and nightmares to torment my sleep. Although enjoying this horrendous spread may not be a complete deal-breaker, please, for the love of God, keep it away from me.

Eating With Your Mouth Open I was raised by my mother to always be polite at the dinner table. This included holding the knife and fork in the correct hand, in the correct way, not putting elbows on the table, and of course, eating with your mouth closed.

Although not holding your fork or knife correctly seems a bit arbitrary to me, it makes complete sense to close your mouth when eating. When you think about it, the act of eating is actually kind of gross, so the least you can do is keep your mouth closed so the world can’t see your food becoming a mess of saliva and slimy chunks. Nobody wants to see that, so subjecting that to others is not only selfish, but a complete deal-breaker.

Not Being Able to Cook

This may be a bit too specific to appeal to the masses, but I’ve experienced it enough in my life for it to really get on my nerves. To those who don’t properly use a bath mat and get water all over the bathroom leaving me to walk in and get my nice warm socks all wet, I have one simple question to ask: what do you think the point of a bath mat is? It isn’t there to look pretty, especially as most bath mats aren’t exactly the most beautiful part of bathroom décor. They are there to absorb the water that’s covering your body and to keep said water from covering the bathroom floor. So please, for the sake of my sanity (and my socks), use the bath mat!

Although this is a bit rich coming from a person who didn’t know how to truly cook until I left home, not knowing your way around a kitchen is totally a deal breaker.

I don’t need the next MasterChef, but being able to cook pasta is a must, as well as other simple foods like cooking an egg or chopping an onion. Also, if you don’t know how to cook, how do you feed yourself? Or do people who lack this ability always eat-out? In this economy? It just doesn’t sound feasible.

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Not Using A Bath Mat

Not Using Tissues I can’t stand people who would rather sniff for eternity than use a tissue to blow their nose.

I still have horrific flashbacks of studying in the library and every few seconds hearing the sniff of someone in my vicinity. I wanted to fling tissues at them and plead to them to use one.

I also don’t really understand why someone wouldn’t use a tissue. It must be uncomfortable for them, right? I personally hate not having a tissue on hand, and after I do use a tissue, I love being able to breathe clearly again.

So, it doesn’t make sense to keep on sniffing.

Is it really that hard to use one?

WORDS BY Simone Kealy @simone.kealyy ART BY Sarah Annett @sa__designss

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Poems to Soothe:

To Remind and to Soften The Overwhelming Feeling Love Brings Out In You

On Being Stubborn and Brand New THE CONNECTION ISSUE 2020

Our discussions came to a close a while ago now, The temperatures were rising, Triggering warning signs, too hot for human condition.

Causing a surge in the frequency of unwanted questions and forbidden anxieties, And if I may speak candidly for a moment: Whilst the records stay on repeat, Same thoughts, same monologue, same habits.

I beg a question that feels far too childish to say aloud but I will anyway, Are you the one? The profound thing everyone tells me exists, yet I cannot find anywhere?

Is this it?

All that you are is an external extension of all that I am, and I’m unsure if I like what it brings to the surface.

So far, my life has been a crochet of phases of young love, heartbreak and the in-between, WORDS BY Lily Anna @l1lyonline ART BY Stephania Paul

Wanting to so desperately reach out and touch.

To taste the sweetness, you can’t rush.

I want it but I mustn’t be impatient, So instead I’ll become a spectator with an average view.

I’ll adopt a new manner, I’ll adorn myself in new clothing and fine phrases In attempts to appeal to someone that isn’t you or him or a distant memory.

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Blue Moon Rising Once in a blue moon I feel like this.

Bar stool, curved spine.

Sipping on red wine with darting eyes, Waiting for the right guy.

Third times a charm, It’s an age to fit in — for connection.

But that’s a question I’ve left to burden me and is still undecided.

A European confidence slips in, ESPERANTO

A part of myself that got drained in the big smoke.

I forgot about her.

I like her.

And in the incandescence of warm embrace, You wait, With a fearsome gurgling pressed in your stomach, Hoping that this time the meaning won’t be jaded.

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For Letting Go of Love Before It Sours I speak of lovers like dear old friends, Not because I cannot let go, THE CONNECTION ISSUE 2020

Because I choose to remember them fondly.

Of their little habits and dirty afflictions, Things that were distinctly them, written within their code.

How we would walk down dimly lit streets, Bellies full of laughter and our minds blank of anxieties.

How we cradled one another, Only to fight like children at the most obscene things.

The corners of my eyes attached to my phone, Waiting for a reply from you, But you were a season within me, not a lifetime, And that’s something to give into.

We played our parts in the allure of a night forthcoming, Dressing up in the name of sensuality and mutual connection.

More or less, I no longer care, Instead I remind myself: If I were to think of you unkindly, When all I felt and still feel is such warmth and honesty toward you, It’d be a disservice to both of us.

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ESPERANTO

Let’s get connected

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