it's only ever there when you've fallen. encouragement and love for you as you learn how to get back on your feet. you'll stand and lose sight and walk away. this is nothing short of a miracle.

she cries.

There's a country I forget the name of. It used to be a bilingual nation, but over time it changed and developed into a unique blend of Afrikaans and Icelandic. They have created this sort of perfectly imperfect harmony. The locals don't work, instead they just help when it's needed. The thieves don't steal, they provide. Liars don't manipulate, they just tell enchanting stories.
Everyone's smiles reach their eyes.

22/3

Feeling...
You know when you get incredibly annoyed, and it just makes it worse when you accept that it shouldn't because it's really rather redundant?
yeah.

i wish i could have the option of inviting people into my mind, temporarily. i want some people to know that my silence doesn't equal emptiness.

im constantly biting my tongue so to not offend anyone or make anyone feel guilty, especially the people i like and as a result i come across as having the personality of a grain of rice.
i don't know.

makes me so mad when people say 'love is love' then condemn incest. society kills me.
love really is just love, just be happy. i don't give a shit if it's with your sister.

judge me, i dont mind.

6/2

i am very alone and i say that i don't mind, but i think i do. i think i do a lot.

I walk down the hallway to my room, turning the lights off as i go and as each one dies it feels as though im allowing someone to get that much closer to me. it feels like they could stand right behind me, and i cant look back and check, so i keep moving foward, keep turning out more lights. i get into my room and im in the dark in my bed and i start hearing noises; the party going on downthe street, the dog outside, the house cooling down as the temperature drops, and all i can do is think "i know the origins of these noises, but what if im wrong?". and i make the mistake of looking around my room and i start seeing things, i swear i can see a figure in my room, and its not like when people see something in the corner, because this is right in the centre of my room, and so i shrink back into my bed with only from my neck up above the covers because i need to keep a look out for danger, even though i cant bring myself to open my eyes. and im lying there trying not to move, because moving is encouraging whatevers not there to come closer. and the noises increase in volume, and i swear im about to choke on my heart because it's sure as hell leapt into my throat. and i know deep down that nothings there but it doesnt matter. and the more i curl up the more room ive allowed the nonexistant person, and i cant uncurl because i might touch them which would confirm their existance. so i lay there, frozen in fear and it's like schrodinger's cat and it's a box i don't want to open, because what if the cat's alive? it's stupid andi'm completely aware of how uncool this is, but i've never claimed to be anything else.

I remember when we were kids. You'd ride around on your trike with me in the cart at the back. We seemed to be going so fast, and I'd put my hands on the wheels beside me. Oh boy that hurt, but it was okay, you know? Because we were having fun.
And we lived right next to the forest so we gave the fence a gate. It was like an extention of our backyard. We'd make secret passages through the trees, and knew all the best ones to use when playing tag, or hide and seek. The blackberry bushes were the 'prickle bushes' that we'd climb fearlessly into to get the good ones at the back. Getting out was the hard part. I remember we were told to wear our old clothes if we wanted to do that, which was fine by us because looks didn't matter.
I remember the boy next door was digging a hole in the forest one day 'just because', and it was enough of a reason for us, so we joined in. Five kids, five spades, ten blistered hands and a giant hole, a decent six metres long and two metres deep.
I remember afew years later when the council came and filled the hole in. And even though it was only there because some kids were bored one day, I was sad when it was gone.
I remember we used to collect pinecones and stick eyes on them to make owls. You got bored of yours as soon as they were done so they took refuge in my room, but soon enough they started to fall apart into nothing. Dead i guess, but it was hard to let go of them.
I remember you used to hug me, but then you were ten. You were too old and I was too annoying. Most of the time I don't care about that, but sometimes I think it would have been nice if things had turned out differently.

So how did you feel when that lead pierced his chest? As his hooves buckled and he was left a lifeless figure of harmony?
Did your heart beat faster with the slowing of his? Did you feel a hot rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins as his were brutally shredded? It's just perfect isn't it, Darling? The way your blood heats up as his begins to cool. It's the ultimate feeling of control. It's like you're God, because with his loss comes your gain. It's an overwhelming sense of life pulsing frantically just below your skin. Your eyes alight with fire and passion. Murder, destruction. It's just great, isn't it Hun?

18/1

but it's like when there's a place that you love. a place you went to once with someone and everything was wonderful but you had to leave, so you returned to reality but you never forgot that place. it becomes the one thing in your mind that you know you have to experience again one day. everything in that place seems perfect, but that's because you're changing it. you dont notice it but you're shunning the imperfections, and idealising the good things and when you finally get back to that perfect place it's a let down, because nothing's the way you remember and you realise that the only good thing, about that place, is the person you were with.

i don't care where i am, just as long as you're there too.

16/1

birds in a cage.
i don't think i'll ever get over how depressing that is.
it's very human of us, isn't it?
if aliens ever came here and i needed to decribe our race, that's where i'd start.
we trap the most widely recognised creature that has the one thing so many of us want.

imprisoning birds doesn't gift you wings.

instead of saying sorry, how about you just stop being a fuck.

not therapeutic at all, now i just want to send them. but i could never.

i think it would make them sad. maybe even make them feel guilty. that's not what i want.

i want to say my life bothers me. i want to say that people hurt me and i wish my life was perfect. but how selfish is that? to brood on my troubles, to let myself get down about things that, when put into perspective, mean nothing. people are so much worse off than me, and they would consider my life to be amazing. so i sit here and say i have no problems.

the trouble is, that just makes the ache - the sick feeling - have no cause. and an ache without a cause can't be solved.

i want to exist above the clouds, out in space, on the dark side of the moon.

hahah, gutless

it's funny how much of my life has been constructed around trying not to get close to people i like. i don't really trust many people at all and like i've said before, i'd rather never have than have and lose.

i'm the cowardly lion, i need some courage.

i love your big eyes, and your out of proportion bottom lip. i love the way you say you hate me when you decide your words don’t hold any validity. i love the way you frown when i tell you you’re wrong. i love the way you enjoy insulting me and hate telling me the truth. i love the way all your nails are bitten and look ugly as hell. i love the way i hate your laugh, and i love the way that bothers you. i love when you pretend to know what i’m talking about, and i love when you let me know you don’t give a shit about what i’m saying. i love the way you look at people when you want to help them. i love the way you look at people when you wish they’d help you. i love that your legs are a bit too short for your body, and the way you don’t care. i love that freckle you have on your right collarbone. i love the way i hate your friends, and i love that you’re friends with them anyway. i love the way you take me seriously when i’m joking, and laugh at me when i’m trying to make a point. i love that no matter what i do you’re there for me. i love that you act like it’s all casual and it doesn’t even matter, but really it’s all there is.

3/1

to say you'll take someone back, take them back once they change a few things - the way they treat you, the way they treat others, the type of actions they make - is to say you want someone else.
all or nothing. love them for who they are, or let them go. don't make them change. it's sick and twisted.
what they do, what they say, what they think - those are the things that define a person and to ask someone to change even one of those is to say you don't love them. and if that's the case, why would you take them back?

i want you to count out loud and stare into the sun
i want you to fall to the ground when your laughter makes your knees weak
i want you to say what's on your mind and keep everything a secret

1/1/11

what if the dream is reality and reality is a dream
what if we forget what we hear and see what we feel
what if that noise isn't in our head, it's just that no one cares
what if those letters are scrambled, we're just seeing words
what if that light's been out a while, we just refuse to let it die