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Gin's Journey

Virginia Marquez Vella

Sydney, Australia

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My name is Virginia Vella and I am: (here's my list) haha

A nurturer, a loving mum and wife, a little cray cray (LOL), a lover of mystical and magical things, I'm obsessed with Netflix, Love fiction stories, Love adventure, I have a sensitive soul, I'm a very passionate person (the latin in me), I'm a giggler, I will be 18 years old forever (I'm 32) and I'm an overall fun loving girl.

I find anything creative very liberating. I am a Makeup Artist, An Actor and to escape I love to write. I don't think I am great at it however, when my fingers start typing they just can't seem to stop. So I thought, why not give this a go.

I love creating stories. I love to inspire and excite readers. I want to captivate and frighten the readers all at the same time. How wonderful it is, when you buy a book or read something online and your emotions are on a roller coaster ride.It thrills me to be so locked into something, so drawn to the story. It takes to you to a wonderful imaginative place.

My beautiful niece Vanessa joins me in writing/editing these wonderful stories. Stories I will share on this platform.

So,

I hope you join my crazy journey with me.

Happy reading

Gin xx

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You, Me and Confidence

Feb 27, 2019 6 months ago

It takes a lot of courage to be confident, well at least that's what I think. You see all kinds of people in the world, beautiful, smart, nerdy, powerful, crazy, some confident, some less confident. Me? I fake my confidence, and when I'm caught out you'll see it on my face and I'll slowly retreat back into my shell. I stutter, I start to self-doubt and question if I'm dumb. But then what does confidence even mean? Beats me, otherwise I wouldn't have this rumination constantly going.I watch you as you walk across the room, smiling, making your way to your well-dressed friends. I'd imagine they're lawyers or they come from money. Sometimes, you can just tell the type of people they are if you observe correctly, but I guess you never truly know until you meet them. The thought of approaching you seems awkward and stalkerish. I'd rather just listen and watch, imagining that I'm included in your group. An hour goes by, and you've met at least a dozen new people who have taken to you. Gosh, I envy you! I'm not approachable, but maybe I can learn from you. You look at your phone, “shit! I have to get back home, mum will be waiting”. You race past me and you head out the door. I quickly follow behind, needing to see you one last time. You're impatiently waiting for a cab, but there are none in sight. I can't help but blurt out, “Hey, you ok?” she sheepishly responds, “ahhh, well, I'm late, and there are no bloody cabs. I need to get home before my mum freaks.” “Well, my car is down the road, I can give you a ride?” I tell her, hoping she says yes. “Oh really? Where do you live? I'm just a couple of blocks from here, down on Fredrick Avenue”. “No way”, now I'm surprised. I respond without delay “I live a street away from there, on Crown Street. I can drive you? It's late and scary out here, it's no problem”. How have I not noticed you before when you live so close? She excitedly says, “You're a life saver!”.From that night on, we actually became best buddies. We have the same taste in music, we both enjoy chai lattes and funnily enough, we work in the same building. Crazy! Well, to be honest, two days after we met I got a job at the little café in the building you work at. But you don't need to know that. We don't see each other as often as I like, because you hang out with those selfish bitches, who don't get you like I do. But when we do see each other, we have a great time, exchanging stories about our weekend and laughing about the men in the building. We go to the movies together, well, we went separately and ended up bumping into each other. Doesn't matter, I still got to spend time with you.I learn that you're turning 30 and that you're throwing a glamorous party. Why am I hearing this from your coworkers ordering a coffee? Why haven't you asked me? I don't get it, aren't we close?! I thought our friendship was flourishing nicely. Wait, it's this fucking weekend?! What did I do so wrong? You're inviting these people who constantly gossip about you, instead of me?! It's your big THREE O and I wont be there to celebrate with you. Un-fucking believable. I have to go, I am going! Thank god for these chatty bitches, at least somebody is keeping me in the loop about you. I turn up to the party a little after 9pm, ensuring that everyone has arrived and has sunk a few drinks, especially you! I see you laughing with them, and I can't help but question If our friendship is a lie? Who are you? Let me answer that for you. You're conniving and only protect yourself to succeed in life. Is that what confidence means? The ability to disregard your best friend's feelings, to only look out for you? You may think I'm overreacting, but to me, this is my heart breaking. The feeling of being unwanted is a betrayal to me. Why would you do that? Argh! I wish I could say this to you, but the fear of being laughed at or lied to again kills me. I feel myself starting to shake, my palms are clammy and I just want to scream. My focus is on you. You're clever, I'll give you that. You get us all caught in your web. Well, I've had it with your games. Time to play mine! How about I'll be the cat and you be the mouse? You make your way up to rooftop alone, I'd imagine being this fake must be exhausting. I follow quietly behind you, like I'm hunting my prey. I need to stay focused. How will I make you understand the betrayal? We arrive; you turn and are startled by me. With a puzzled look, you ask, “what the hell are you doing here”, I snap back, “ Honestly, that's your first question? I can't believe you didn't invite me tonight”, she says, “Invite you?” and scoffs “I get coffee from you, sorry, but why would I invite you?” I just stare in total shock. You're standing near the ledge, I follow my impulse and forcefully push you off. WOW, what a rush! I run over to the ledge and look down, I hear the thump, this perfect vessel is no more. “Who has the confidence now” I shout, as this smirk is smeared across my face, “I do… I do!”

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