- This is a friendship I'll cherish forever.

Men fear death as children fear the dark.

Anxiety

"Strength is respected. Everyone has the right to be strong." - Black on White.

It's not always there. Sometimes I don't even know when it's there.
It starts in my stomach, when I can't keep my food down. And if I dont recognise it, it results in trips to the doctors trying to find out why I keep throwing up.
All tests are conclusive. I've bubbled over again.
Sometimes I think i've conquered it, i've figured out how to release the tension and then one day my stomach tightens up and I can't breath properley.
It's usually an aftermath. Once everything has died down, once I think I can deal with it; then the feelings I did not show erupt.

I could count on one hand the amount of times I have cried this year, and so these "attacks" seem to be a portal through my inability.

It's a terrible feeling. It's like losing control.

I've sat here feeling sick to my stomach with guilt, knowing a good friend of mine is in pain because of me. I've hid my face in my pillow, squeezing out tears to try and relieve myself; (because apparantly that makes you feel better. I've written letters, I've spoken words and still nothing is working.
I'm fighting off panic.
I've apologised though I've done nothing wrong.
I've apologised for feeling how I feel when no one should ever have to do that.
I've backed down from battles and let you win. I've tried to be selfless, I've tried to be selfish.

And yet you deprived me of all rights I had in our friendship.

You mean the world to me. I adore you. You are one of the few I whole heartedly enjoy, one of the few I trust with a word. One of the few I trust in general. I do love you. I do. I don't care if that's not right to say.

You called me fake in an attempt to hate me.
I call you unfair.

And yet, its unconditional.

Please be my friend.

Alison Mosshart

- I look like a woman but I...
Cut like a Buffalo

The statistics on sanity are that one out of every four Americans is suffering from some form of mental illness. Think of your three best friends. If they’re okay, then it’s you.

-Rita Mae Brown

Embattled

We are all subject to betrayal. It is unfortunate but the truth is we are all snakes in the grass; it's human nature. It is irreparable yet inevitable in any relationship. Should we choose to accept this fact, forgive and cover the backs of a select few whom without we would suffer; we may find the battle a little easier to survive. Thus yielding contentment within our day to day lives. We are all guilty and yet we appear safe for one more day. Weed out those who bite you constantly, for life does not expect you to fullfill any obligation. It merely expects that you survive and that you do so well.

I'm too free;

I find it too easy to float through life day by day enjoying the time that is currently infront of me. I am trying desperatley to tie myself down to something for once, trying to do something with my life that will result in stability. My emotions are erratic and mind wanders, dwelling on visions, words and moments that distract me from productivity.

I am finding it difficult even still, after making the meaningful decision, to weigh myself down. It may come as a suprise that the one who is making it the most difficult is the one who has only ever pushed me to do something constructive with my life. I suppose, given the circumstances its actually not a big suprise after all.

For the first time in a long time I am actually interested in being in a relationship. I feel as though I need someone to keep me thinking realisticly. I need some security, I need someone to keep me grounded. I need perhaps the opposite to myself. I have found myself again as the end of this year draws closer. I have found myself in words and images; its nice. It is nice to be so eager to want to write something down or take a photo of the sunset. It is suprisingly comforting to be so aware of the mistakes I have made and the goals that I have in place. I find myself feeling less shallow, looking past asthetics and longing for someone I can have a decent conversation with and who likes to read books. Somebody with depth. Somebody with substance.

Sometimes I feel I might float away.

A Letter Of Apology

Dear...

2 hour showers, late night drives, cuddleing you under a blanket on a veranda in the early hours of the morning and reminiscing about when we were young and when we were together.

I was never really into it was I? I was never really there. I did not treat you how you deserved to be treated. Although you were far, very far from perfect I know you cared. You really thought I was something, thats what I remember. I'm sorry I lied to you. I'm sorry I made things up to excuse how much I distanced myself from you. I'm sorry we did it once, just that one time after you'd waited so long to proove to me I was special. After you waited all that time to say "I love you". You tried so hard and I took you for granted. I got caught up and I lost touch with the reasons I fell for you in the first place. I'm sorry.
I loved it the other night. I loved being around you again. I loved saying "I remember..." and I loved hearing you say "what else do you remember?" I love how much has been unlocked inside my head now, how much I actually do remember.
You know I used to look back on our relationship as a bad one. Truth is the good far outweighed the bad. It was cut short and that was my fault . I can't forget the conspiracies, the things I still dont know were true or not. I can't forget you throwing cans at me and I can't forget the cigarette burns, but we've both grown up now. I find myself remembering all the reasons why I chose you in the first place. There was just always something about you. There always will be, I can't deny you're one of the more significant ones.

So here's my letter of apology, I hope it finds you well. One day maybe you'll get to read it; until then I hope I see you again soon. I'm expecting that I will.

Regards.

Daddy.

I had a dream about my dad last night. He wanted to send me away for two months to 'fix' me because I supposedly had so many things wrong with me. Mum was going to let him, can't forget that part. In my dream there was a room of young girls in white dresses danceing around in circles. I was the only one not danceing I merely stood in the corner and watched. Eventually I broke down, I started screaming and crying asking Dad why he was doing this to me. In my dream I told him everything. I asked him why no matter how hard I tried I would never be good for him. He let me stay but it was conditional... as always.

Dreams are amazing, at times so accurate amd so very symbolic. Dad and I will never be right. He has perpetually destroyed a part of me I never ever got the chance to meet. In a way though, like mum says, its lucky I never really bonded with him or I would have never had a chance.

I see Khadija with me.

I know you're smart but you're not superior. You're missing something every human being should have, infact needs to function properley. It's scary. You assume so much about me because you don't know me. There's a wall between us. As much as i'd love to knock it down it needs to stay there, for my own safety. You'd drown me.

A beautiful day

I had the most beautiful day today. I forgot how nice it is to be by yourself.

I was up early to get a few things done. I then caught the train into the city early so that I could take my time wandering around before I met my director from the last term at STS for coffee at Railway Square. The weather was perfect as I sat and learned more about a person who I suspect has lead an extremley interesting life. He created an image for me which he once experienced himself. A woman... his lover, in a white lace dress sitting in the middle of a sun room, burning love letters from her past. It belongs in a movie.
I am so lucky to have such a mentour. I am happy to buy him a flat white any day!

I then discovered my new favourite bookstore, 'Basement Books'. Upto 90% off normal retail prices. I bought a new book to add to my 'too read' pile then a bubble tea and slowly made my way back home on the train. I finally finished my Gordon Livingston book, I'm still amazed, that book will stay with me for life.

After being home for a while I took Lily for a twilight run around the new development at the back of Pitt Town. There's something eerie about perfectly paved streets and paths, stylised gardens and huge big empty houses. After yoga I had several messages from people I havn't spoken to in such a long time.

I am now enjoying a cup of soup for dinner.

A truely simple yet beautiful day.

It's not supposed to be a battle field.

If I could write to you I would. If I could tell you what you'd done i'd explain every detail. I dont even have to think anymore it just all comes out, sometimes too fast for my hands to keep up.

Truth is we all have one. One of those people who kick us when we're down, who knowingly and repeatedly beat us to the ground leaving us bruised and bloody; because they know they can. It's own stupidity that keeps making us get back up to try again.

Albert Einstein once said, "the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results." It makes you question you're own sanity does it not?
Why is it so easy to see something for what it is when you're standing on the outside, but so much harder when you're right there takeing the blows? Surely we were not designed for such deadly warfare. The unfair advantage is that the one who cares the least will always, always win. Whilst you sit at home licking you're wounds, they're somewhere planning their next attack or worse still... you havn't even crossed their mind. Aborting any strategic manouvers you have in place is almost out of the question. So your next tactic, you get sad or you get angry and you tell yourself you just can't let go. You admit defeat and you remain trapped in your own cycle doing the same things, thinking the same thoughts and feeling the same feelings over and over again, going utterley insane.
There is a choice here, letting go hurts but so does being emotionally abused time and time again.

So the big question is, what hurts more?

I don't like things to be too obvious;

I just wanted to see what you'd say, but you'll say nothing and I'll just be the idiot, so easily and so willingly. Or so it would seem. Mum always used to tell me if a person is on you're mind it means you're on theirs. So if i'm thinking about you does that mean you're thinking about me?

A sadness seems to wash over me. I was content being angry at you but now I just keep missing you. I regret the conversations I have with you, but I still keep looking forward to the next one. I'm not sure what to do. I don't know what to say, who to tell or what to ask; and you're no help whatsoever.

And as for you, you're just another character that barely fills a chapter in this story.

Pour me another glass.

Fragments

today:

There was a storm this afternoon and as it was brewing the wind picked up, carrying a countless number of seeds and leaves along with it, those things you call 'Santa Claus's' and make a wish on. I watched them all float away and all I could think was, how beautifully fitting it seemed.

last week sometime:

Sit the fuck back down! You're just as oblivious as the rest of us. You're wasteing time and I have so much work to do and so little motivation to do it.

I had a dream that you just wouldnt let us die, so the walls around me started burning, you held your breath while I searched for some peace of mind. You just sat back down and started playing chess.

Just another moment suspended in time, accompanied by just another heart beat inside.

17th October:

A culmination of emotional supression into a manifestation of physical illness -

Mother says I could give myself cancer.

15th October:

Fragmented sunlight through scratched glass windows.

Delicate shadows of dancing leaves all in silouette.

An appreciation for the dust particles that float softly through the air, visible only when they cross paths with the sunlight.

A couldren of colour disappearing into the blue to caress the skin of another.

A familiar journey winding through broken ground, for the purpose of both business and pleasure.

To the grey skys with a reflection.

To the whithering tree's in an open field.

To the abandoned little habits we use to make our way home each day.

To those we join in our comfort and those who join us in the privacy of our thoughts.

The music that accompanies you so gracefully.

The headaches caused by tension you just can't pin point.

The wonder of how easily emotions scatter and progress in new directions through out the hours.

too many weeks ago to count:

We tell ourselves we're heartless because we havn't got the heart to live with it being broken. We keep ourselves safe and although it is the cowards way out, nobody ever said we had to be brave. You can risk everything in life to make yourself feel fullfilled; but risking your heart comes with greater consequences then any of us could forsee. To allow ones self to be so content, so enthralled, entrapped in another means to lose them will be earth shattering. And we will lose them, every single one of them. We all fall away.

Bad Idea

The way I felt sick to the stomach in the car. How undecided I was, how much I just knew it was a bad idea for one reason or another. How much I didnt want to give into you again. I gave in too easily, again. The worst part now though is not that I broke a promise to myself, not that I went back on all the anger and things I said about you; but instead the fact that I miss you. Its only just dawned on me. God I miss you so much. We were nothing, I know that. Only a line, perhaps a few sentences in this story, but I just keep re-reading you. You make me happy when I'm with you, but I dont trust you in the slightest and I don't believe that I'm anything more then a couple of nights and a couple of days to you. I feel like i've known you so much longer then I have and yet we know nothing of each other. I'm not sure if things will change, I'm not sure what it is you actually want and I dont think you're sure either. We're friends. I won't forget you, you made everything hurt again in such a short amount of time. Before that you made everything right again, if only momentarily. Only for a day. As though it were a bad dream. You made me cry, a huge accomplishment. You took me 10 steps and 2 years back.

I wonder what you're doing right now, I'm not sure I'd want to know. I wish I never had to wake you up those mornings, I wish I could have just laid there. I never could sleep though, you always had me awake early. You have my attention. What else do you want now?

You still make me so fucking angry!

- 14th November

Self destructive

So I took off running, running as far as I could. I've been running all this time, but now it seems i've come full circle and I'm simply running head first back towards you, stumbling as I go. Hopeing, praying that something gets in my way.
I'm so silently self destructive, so ironically aware of my own decisions to completley obliterate myself. I have no sense of whether this is what I want or if it simply fullfills my romantic illusions. The fantasies of a person who is so elated by the expression of emotion through words. What fun is writeing about contentment? The poets who used to write poem after poem, confessing undieing love, expressing the torment of a feeling so overwhelming, so all consumeing, so completley enthralled by another. Was this true love every time, or the sin in which we call lust? Surely true love can only be felt once. Where have the most beautiful words come from? Pain. It makes you wonder what a life of self destruction and torture can accomplish. The mind of a tortured poet, the heart of a tortured soul. An old soul, not at rest.


Unfinished.
I'm still pondering, but my eyes are too heavy to clearly project my thoughts.

timeless

I realised how perfectly polaroids seem to capture a moment.
Looking for my own on Ebay tomorrow.

27th October

There's saftey in being emotionally dettached. Trust me, I've been doing it for years and I learnt from the best. Dont play games with my head, you'll lose because I'll just simply learn not to care.
I will admit I do miss falling in love. How it used to catch me by suprise. Trip me over even when I thought I was well guarded. I seem to have a lot better control these days, or maybe I'm just not as sure this time. Have I given you the right sort of time to sweep me off my feet, or did we just start out this way? I think we may be starting to reach an agreement, though I feel like I've just been argueing with myself. I feel so ugly when I'm around you, as though I'm just not reaching what you're holding, despite me knowing how much better I am then you. So are we settled? Are we content? I'm not entirley sure what we're content with.

Oh to read minds! The logistics of it would make life almost pointless; because where would we be without the hours spent trying to decipher a word or a phrase, even just a look. What would we fill our minds with if we didnt have those hopeful thoughts, so strong they can almost delude us into thinking our fantasies really are coming true? Where would we be without the moments of clarity? Or the point where we realise all our efforts were in vain and there's nowhere left to go here? To read minds would make the game almost too easy and yet maybe even that little bit more painful because we cannot help where our hearts are drawn to. Unrequited love is not romantic, its a dilusion. To be too scared to enter into the dilusion is deprive yourself of an emotional beating, and where lies the courage in that?

So I feel like I know you asthetically and I love the touch of you're skin, but to know what really lies behind those eyes requires so much more doesn't it? I don't spend a single night lieing awake thinking about you, I dont hear a song and sing the words for you. It's been so long since I've done such a thing. Though sometimes you catch me on the way home, in a moment of mental abandonment, you creep inside and I make a concious decision to keep you there for a little while. When I compare how I feel around you to how I feel around the rest you reinforce my decision and I'm almost content with you there and only there. Sometimes I wish you'd just come kiss me on the shoulder like you do, but no feelings over power me I'd like to say I'll attach myself simply just to go along with the ride, just to see where this ends up but I won't. I can't shake how inferior I feel to every other girl around me when you're near.

Answer me one question please? When I know exactly what it is I want to ask you.

Control.

You have this profound way of making me feel strangely uneasy and amazingly happy within the exact same moment. Something about you makes me think you know what you're doing, like you've done it all before.

That song always reminds me of you, and cigarettes, as though the combination goes so well. I imagine us sitting through a storm together in the early hours of the morning. Rain pouring through the gutters.

You keep coming back and though you’re all wrong, I keep wanting you to come back. You constantly capture my attention and continue to hold it, whether I’m aware of it or not.

Aesthetics seem meaningless because its that certain something I still can't put my finger on, after all this time I’m still no closer to realising. Whether this be a thing of darkness, like the persona you so often carry or something more innocent I seldom gain any insight. It all seem's so worth the risk.

If it were anyone else... but to you I just can’t say no.

Good News.

Batton down the hatchs. I'm ready to jump off cliffs. I'm finally ready to take some risks, on all levels, on all plains. I have nothing to lose and everything to gain.

I'm going back into the real world, starting yet another new chapter of this story. As terrorfying as it might be, its time to lock horns with life and figure out what I really want to do and who I really want to be. Working my way into the history books. Pushing my way into sight.
My favourite time of year is approaching. The time I get to look back and look forward at the same time. Make a promise and make a wish. Forgive and forget. Learn to live with regret.
Now that I know where my focus will be I feel as though I really can step forward, leave everything behind and take with me only the best of what I've gained. Every impossible lesson i've been taught, every repeated mistake, I no longer wish to be attached to.
'Nothing to lose', I'm diving head first into a completley new world and I'm taking this motto with me.

boy.

"The only way to true happiness is to risk getting cut completley open."

- unknown

Does it still count if your already nurseing several serious wounds to the heart?

I can safely assume this is about 99% true if you're willing to take the risk, eventually you have to land on your feet. Or one can only hope. I myself am my own worst enemy. I can preach and see all the logic and sense within in this, but I cannot for the life of me practice it. I'm not even entirley sure why anymore, its been too long.

I'm doing everything in my power to not fall for you, because I know exactly how things will end.

Who's to say you'd be any different?

I'd like to think that you are, but I wont venture there.

I'm terrorfied you'll run away with a piece of me and never come back.

boy.

I could make you ridiculously happy.

For more then a night.

I honestly think you are such a special person, with the lovliest eyes.

I wish you nothing but clear blue skies and sunshine every day.

Truth #1

When was it that hypocrisy first decided to plague us? I imagine it has been with us since the dawn of time. It must be a tyrant, one who is so relentless that it haunts us silently now.


Once upon a time one of a woman's greatest qualities was her modesty, and she prided herself on this. The 60's donned an era where rebelion meant ceasing educating ones self, listening to music their parents did not understand, exploring the world through the use of mind expanding drugs; and physically allowing ones self to enjoy what pleasures we were designed to without restriction.
Ofcourse nowdays these things are frowned upon, as they were then but now in a new light. Youth today still indulge themselves in the same activities but it is now less of a subculture and more the norm. It is not unusual to have promiscuous sex with a partner you met days, even minutes ago. Infact for the male species the more the better. So how is it that girls are so aggressivley labelled as "sluts" and "filth" because they may have decided they dont care for any other reason but physical attraction as a motive for sex. At the time the boy doesnt mind in the slightest. Why? Because it's an easy root, another knotch on the belt and simply just another tale to tell the guys. To this day I have not met a boy who would easily decline the oppurtunity to satisfy their primary earges; and with no charges laid against them for doing so, who would?
The outcome for girls acting upon their desires is entirely different. So much as though we even turn on our kind at times, labelling them as inferior people.


What is it even still that gives the male species the right to degrade females, use them for sport, for status, for emotional manipulation? What is it psychologically that we just cannot shake that allows us to accept and submit immediate status to men. I am in no way a feminist, infact I can easily admit that males are the dominent species. I only find it a fascinating and at times frustrating truth. Fascinating as it is so easily accepted; frustrating as it is so obviously unjust.

Oh to what the world has seen!

"Adieu to disappointment and spleen. What are men to rocks and mountains?"

- Jane Austen 'Pride and Prejudice'

Here is where we learn the meaning of our insignificance.
In the rocks and mountains.
In the grass and valleys.
If I was not so allured by the prospect of romance perhaps these magic shows would not be so common.
Were it the 1800's, I should be in my leisure.
Surrounded by all that tempts me in romance, in language and for some garmets, in fashion.
Is this why I am so seduced by the concept of living out my fairy tales and fantasies on stage and screen?
To have the oppurtunity perhaps, the honour infact to live as another.
In a completley different time.
A completley foreign world.
In one of my favourite imaginations of a by gone era.
Oh to what the world as seen!
Were it possible to capture all and learn from every fragment of time that has passed, I should feel my life almost fullfilled. I fear my pride would falter in the awe of what little value my life, and those whom I hold dearest lives do recieve.
So be it, modern day affairs are not held with such respect for rank and birth. Instead one decides upon their rank through choice from the moment of birth.
Society feigns what morals we once held, and through generations rebels against ones better judgement in the context of choice.
Until we find ourselves here, so intent on freedom and yet so dependent on a greater source to feed us lest we grow old.
Without a permenent label of wealth or poverty, opulence or simplicity one could entertain the idea of significance with extreme possibility.
Though here motivation and endureing passion should be used as constant solace to whatever obstacles may stand in the way betwixt the beginning and end of the journey.
So inspiration finds me with the intent to persuade me to do just that.
To make sure my name is known.
That perhaps somewhere in the particles of existance a person whos time is long after mine shall long to know more of my story.

TIME MACHINE

8th October

I had a dream about you last night.

You were cold, so I gave you a blanket & I was in bed with your two best friends;

you were asleep on my floor.

I stayed as close to you as possible, but I was happy because you were happy.

Something in your eyes kept me awake & we smiled weakly, no questioning as to why you were here.

I couldn't help but admit to myself how much I missed you, how much I might always miss you.

But I was happy because you were happy;

and in the latter thought, I wondered how long it would be until we met again.

.

Only the best days;

This weeks lost and found.

Inspiration seem's to be of abundance.
When daylight holds out just an hour longer and I have time to appreciate what the day has been; I imagine myself being able to fill pages with words. Fill books. Fill hours with scribbling to myself;but I reach for that book with the pages prepared to fill hours... and nothing comes.

I used to be able to write no matter the time of day. Stories constantly filled my head, inspiration was indeed abundant.
Over the years I feel as though I've lost myself. Perhaps I simply grew up. More concerned with social aquaintances and romances then the time I used to spend appeasing my mind.
Though through these more 'grown up' years I do infact find myself lost, switching between who I am, who I want to be and who I some how end up being every now and then. I seem to find myself in a constant repeat, a failure in learning from my mistakes. Time and time again I run along with my flamboyant nature, the impulsive side I possess; and time and time again I find myself in the same positions completley aware of how I could have provented them. I begin to wonder if these are concious or subconcious decisions I make. I have a concious desire for emotional saftey and I am aware of the idea that to choose the wrong things means you never find something you couldnt bare to lose, therefore avoiding a greater pain then that of what your wrong decisions cause you.
On the other hand, I have attempted a couple of times to do things the right way and though my actions are different, one could argue I still begin with the wrong choice, thinking stupidly that it may just be completley different to last time. Here is where I question my subconcious, am I doing these things on purpose?
There is no such thing as instant gratification.
There is no such thing as emotional security.
It takes a far lesser amount of time to destroy something then it does to build it.
Being hurt is what being human is about; and we learn nothing from intentionally destroying what we build.
Unless ofcourse we have been building nothing at all.
In which case we are doomed to wondering where our all our towers, our accomplishments have gone, knowing full well that we were too scared to begin constructing them in the first place.

I have started to find myself again with real reason to write. With a real career path that I can write for and at such a young age the recent oppurtunities that have opened up for me are more then I could have imagined; and completley different to what I'd hoped.
I have been lost.
In the late nights.
The cigarettes.
The emotional disatisfaction.
The constant company that prevents a total sense of abandonment.
And the inability to just simply not deal with what bullet life has shot you with this time.
But thats not me, thats her. Thats not how I deal with things.
After a significant wounding I have almost found the will to be me again and I am completley content in sitting in bed in my 1950's silk and lace gown reading a book of 30 pyschological essays; hoping that one day I will be as positive of the lessons in life as Gordon Livingston.