I was ghosted by a close friend

And why perhaps I do believe in manifestation

A few years ago I was in the hot epicentre of influencer madness.

I was attending events, dreaming of having my own beauty brand, comparing myself to others and also part of a relatively popular podcast.

I made one particular friend who I was in love with. She was beautiful, successful and the kind of girl that when I was in school would have flushed my head down the toilet (my secondary school was referred to by local South London folk as ‘St Trinians,’ - it was either you flushing or being flushed).

At school I had mixed experiences of being friends with popular and beautiful girls. I was often so in awe that I would drool as they spoke. Say something stupid. I was a nerd, listening to John Denver, and wore jellybean sandals (as my actual school shoes not on the beach). I thought it was cool to have my hair cut like Phil Oakey from Human League, not realising it was not yet retro (i.e. people thought I was stuck in a time warp).

Anyhoo, I digress.

This girl, this amazeballs woman had a career, was a big influence, and I felt like I was Dame Edna’s assistant Madge- the dim one. The bridesmaid to her bride. I listened to her advice like a hog chews up jacket potatoes. I was hungry for it. Over time our friendship grew, and I began to feel it was a real connection. I felt good because we laughed a lot when we were together. We had a mutual friend and the three of us laughed together. We shared secrets. Sometimes fags. We stood in Soho House and lusted after celebrity actors. I drank back then and would usually get drunk and start acting like Janet Street Porter (no filter). She made me feel like anything was possible. Want to write a book? Well go ahead and write it. Want to direct a film? Go on why don’t you? Whenever I was in her company I felt giddy, I’ve always been a celebrity-loving luddite but it wasn't the celebrity that created the thrill- it was the infectious energy of someone who believed in herself and others. She rarely gossiped or talked ill of people either. Each year she wrote down a number and that was the number she was going to earn. I’d heard that other successful people did this too (I haven’t tried it, no scratch that, I have but unfortunately it hasn’t worked - yet). In public, when we were at events, she would praise me - saying how funny I was, how outrageous, how authentic. I would purr. It was a dream - this jellybean sandal wearing hick was loved by such a goddess!