Flood Rebellion Famine

F l o o d 

R e b e ll i o n

Famine

Killarney, Ireland 

May 2016

In the early hours of the morning, before the tourists awoke and flooded the streets, before the shops opened and the same old Irish music bellowed and drifted through the spring air; my feet briskly rushed down the street. 

I dragged my pink luggage behind me. Pigeons scattered and flew away in flocks creating my path. 

My heart in a furry, it wasn't supposed to be like this. 

I didn't care if I woke the whole damn stuffy town.

I made my way to the ice cream shop and swung open his apartment complex door. 

Stepping in, I looked down to find the things I left behind on purpose waiting on the door step. 

He placed them on the door step??! 

I was leaving forever and he wasn't even going to say goodbye? 

I pounded up the stairwell. 

There he was, at the top. 

We said goodbye, and he said it was nice meeting me. I wanted to punch him. Spit at him. 

But I didn't.  

And then the person who led me on for two years. 

Who had written letters to me. 

Who had talked with me online for hours and hours and hours; 

Who promised he would love me when I met him and then never did; 

Shut the door. 

As it turned out, he was the town womanizer. 

He had a list of girls from around the world he kept in contact with. 

He used us all. 

One by one. 

Charming. Seducing. Then splitting our hearts in two. 

And treating us like a piece of meat. 

Dublin, Ireland 

June 2016

I ran to his statue with my friend laughing behind me. 

It was the Rebellion that showed me what true love was. 

I was lucky enough to be there for the 1oo year commemoration for Ireland's Rebellion of 1916. 

Sean Heuston; otherwise known as Jack was about my age. 

Handsome, brave, and valiant. He battled for his country. 

He held his men (about 20 volunteers) in a building called the mendacity institution for over two days. 

Originally he was supposed to hold them there for 3 hours. 

He was captured by the British and executed in Kilmainham Gaol. 

There was something about him. And his bravery gave my broken heart strength. 

He was only 25. 

I have been to Ireland twice. And the Irish people lovingly gave me the nickname "The Sun Girl." 

Of the times I have been there, not a drop of rain comes down from the clouds. 

Instead the country endures a heatwave. 

The sun stays. 

And each time I leave; there is a storm. 

An hour after my plane took off to the USA; a severe storm hit Dublin. 

And the streets flooded. 

Full of enchantment; I was still uneasy. 

Heartbroken. Hurt from the one who played me. 

I didn't show it, but the life in me was completely gone. 

Shrouded in pain. 

A famine of light. 

But on accident, something would help me through in a few months.