One of those days.

So I'm pretty sick of being me. And fairly tired of being alive. And I really just want everything to stop. I wish I could let down these stupid barriers and just be myself. Six months ago, I honestly thought I knew who I was, and now I barely even know why I'm here. It's exhausting, feeling this worthless, and having to constantly come up with reasons why I should bother staying awake. It's a pretty horrible feeling, having to come here to write down my thoughts because I don't feel comfortable actually verbalising them to anyone except my mother. I want everyone I know to see the real me. I just want to stop pretending. I'm fed up with picturing my broken body twisted across a pavement, and wondering how many people I've actually left a lasting impression on. Sick sick sick.

You.

What do I do when I'm falling to pieces and the only person I want to put me back together again is somewhere on a distant planet living an entirely different life and has most likely forgotten that I'm not okay and I need them now more than ever.

Courage

It's not something that I usually have
See it has a tendency of hiding from me
And when the time comes for me to stand
Instead, I just sit there, cowardly

And I hope for the strength that you possess
But bravery can be such a hard thing to hold
Yet you guard it so firmly behind your eyes
Now how could I ever be that bold?

As I imagine you unafraid and alone
I look at myself and I don't want to think
Why is it I who is crumbling down
When I'm trying to float, but I'm starting to sink

Then I hear a voice say that it's killing you too
And I smile as I realise it's truth
And the courage I seek becomes mine to keep
As I think of the love of my youth

La Lutte

I'm still really struggling to come to terms with this concept.
This whole idea of 'being alone'.
No matter how hard I try to express it, I can't.
And I want to... I need to.... I just... I feel... It's like... It's not... But...
You.
Every thought ends the same way.

I'm really happy.
Sometimes.
And I don't think about you.
Sometimes.
I think I'll be fine.
Sometimes.
And I know this is over.
Sometimes.

My brain is numb, and empty, but so full to bursting.
I just know that it's caving in, getting ready to crush me.
I still just feel wrong, like this isn't happening.
Like I'm not doing something right.
Like you're still mine, really.

That night, I sat and stared.
I stared at that clock, hands frozen in time.
I am that clock, stuck forever at a quarter past three.
And you are the key, you alone have the ability to make me move again.
But I know, deep down, that you are not here, and it is I who must make myself live again.

But honestly, I don't know anything.
I couldn't possibly understand these theories of love and loss and loneliness and longing.
After spending hundreds upon hundreds of days under the blissful illusion that I knew what it was to be loved, I am still none the wiser.
I don't know how to love, or when, or why, or what. Even less who.

I cannot comprehend myself. My self. Myself, alone, without you.
I thrive on memories, because you are dead, and I am dead, and new faces have taken our places.
What hurts the most, is knowing we will never again live those lives.
We are a thing of the past, from another lifetime, and right now you seem so far away.
I fight to remember every aching moment, and ache for you to remember me.
For from this moment on, we do not know each other.
We do not know anything at all.

I am lost.
My heart is my compass.
And you are my map.
And the only thing that keeps me going,
Is knowing that one day, I'll find you again.

Fini

Things I'm going to miss:

Holding your pinky finger.
Resting my hand on the crease between your ribs and your hip.
Kissing your cheekbones.
Your hot chocolates.
Going to sleep with a smile on my face.
Waking up to cute words.
Nibbling your ear.
Rolling over in the middle of the night and spooning you.
Falling asleep in the hammock.
Playing with your hair.
Sniggling under your arm.
Having your hands on my waist.
Watching funny videos and looking at stupid pictures with you.
Family dinners.
Knowing you thought I was truly beautiful.
Koala-ing.
Being Krackened.
Making plans together.
Playing video games instead of going out.
Having you to hold me and keep me safe.
Showing you off.
Knowing we were right for each other.
The way I felt when you kissed me after days of being apart.
The feeling of being a part of your family.
But more than anything,
I'm going to miss being in love with you.

Cassé

I think the hardest part is knowing that I did nothing wrong; you just don't want me any more.

Espérances

When I was twelve, I wondered what my life would be like aged eighteen.
I used to wonder who, where, and what I would be.
As expected, eighteen did not live up to expectations.
I have lost contact with 98% of the people I spent the last five years with.
My best friend cut me off, lied to me, and stabbed me in the back.
I suffered from mild depression and still have severe anxiety.
I have a psychologist, and am on anti-depressants.
All of this pushed my first real relationship to the brink of destruction countless times.
I didn't have an 18th because I didn't have enough friends to make it worthwhile.
I didn't get a TER, so am unable to study at university.
I don't have a job.
I can't drive.
I still can't ride a bike.

But, I haven't felt this good in a long time.
I love and appreciate my family more than ever.
My boyfriend has been with me for the toughest year of my life, and I am still crazy in love with him.
I get to study at the coolest building in Adelaide.
I come home covered in clay, paint and charcoal four days a week.
I've met some of the most awesome people, and finally know what a true friend is.
I've just inherited enough money to buy the camera and computer of my dreams.
I'm finally confident enough to dress and look how I want, currently sporting a red pixie cut.
I am not the person I wanted to be.
I am better.
I am finally myself.

Cried out eyes.

You know the ones.
Red rimmed, prickling.
Heavy yet light.
They blur the edges between...
Well, between practically everything.
Your mouth may say joy,
But your eyes won't comply.
Your soul has drained out,
And lingers on your lashes.
In your hair.
On your fingertips.
At the very peak of your nose.
And you only really stop,
When you've shed so much,
You've forgotten what it means to be happy.

I am.

I am the world's most horrible person.
Bow down and wonder at my powers of destruction.
No happiness or peace lives here,
Only sorrow and misery.

You want me to smile?
Here, the Joker says hello, happy now?
But really, why so serious?
Oh! Well that would be because I have no soul!

My only aim in life is to tear people to shreds.
To gut them and draw them out,
Enlightening them to the horror of the human condition.
Cruel, but kind.

I will make you cry and seethe,
I will make you question your own existence,
I will make you wish you never met me,
And I will do so using sarcasm.

So unbelievably tired.

So tired of not being able to control my brain and my body, no matter how hard I try.

Sick.

I'm sick,
so sick.
Sick of feeling like my life is a joke.
Like there is some higher being out there,
cramming as many clichés as possible,
into the shortest amount of time they can.

I'm tired,
so tired.
Tired of wanting to switch off my life.
Like that bad tv show everyone hates,
because it's so unrealistic and exaggerated,
but it's happening to me.

I'm lost,
so lost.
Lost and losing and losing and lost.
Like a forgotten favourite toy,
shoved to the back of the cupboard,
screaming to be held.

Falling.

Falling down.
Falling.
Falling backwards.
Falling.
Falling into old habits.
Falling.
Falling over and over.

When will it end.

Please don't.

Break, breaking, broken.
Ivory turns to rose.
Tiny vessels blossom beneath.
Raised ridges of release.
Instant self-hatred.
Momentary regret.
Endless pity.

Please don't hate me.
Please don't ever feel the way I feel.

Insomnia.

I need to stop overthinking.
I need to realise that no one here is judging my vocabulary, my grammar, my sentence structure.
I'm going to try and write without thinking.
But with this music pulsing through my head, how can I think of anything else?

I am down, please don't go.
Or take me when you leave.

I'm a little bit broken.
And a little bit lost.
But I like to think I'm getting a little bit better.
And I can't blame you.
But I do.
And you'll never understand.
But I think you should.
And there I go, thinking again.
But at least I'm still writing, hey?

Sing it quiet, sing it slow.
And I will listen loud.

I want to run and scream and stretch and pull and fall and hurt and hurt and hurt.
I want to stay, and go, and belong, and stand out.
I want I want I want I want.
I need.

I need to stop looking back.
I need to stop worrying.
I need to stop thinking 'What If?'
I need to stop thinking.
I need to stop.

I miss you.

Incompréhensible

How is it that something which surrounds us each and every day, can still be so foreign.
We will never understand.
It will never make sense.
Things won't change.
Life will go on, or so we think.
Why wasn't this the case for you?

Why can't I help but ask these questions I know will never be answered.
If you knew, you'd still be here.
You should still be here.
You are you are you are.

Tristesse.

I find myself sinking. Pulled down by the beauty I find in sadness.
An image. A chord. A symbol.
Why does it have this impact? Why do I form a connection with that which would pass so many others by.
We are surrounded by tragedy; painful, cruel, and raw.
How is it that love still remains.
Above all else, love remains.
In a letter that will never be read.
In the hug of family reunited.
In one man's friendship with a three-legged dog.
In a bird's broken body.
In a tree on a hill.
In the loss of a brother.
In the loss of a friend.
Even in the heartbreak that is lost love.
Love remains.
And it is beautiful.
And it hurts.

Truth.

"When you love someone so much,
After every fight, every argument, every heart break...
At the end of the day, none of it even matters any more.
Because you'd rather keep the relationship, and let the problem go.
Not keep the problem, and let the relationship go.

No matter what happens.
No matter how much it hurt.
Nothing is more important than that person."

Just the words I needed to encounter on a night like this.

Rancunes.

That's the thing about holding grudges;

Even when you think you've won,
you realise what you've really lost.

Question.

Do you forget sometimes?
Forget that I can't always control it.
Forget that I can't always express it.
Forget that it's more than just a bad mood.
Forget that it's more than I can handle alone.
Forget that it won't disappear overnight.
Forget that it won't listen to reason.
Forget that it's a sickness.
Forget that it's a struggle.
Do you forget that I don't want it?

Do I forget sometimes?
Forget that you don't understand.
Forget that you don't think.
Forget that you can't read minds.
Forget that you can't make it stop.
Forget how easily I break.
Forget how easily I blame.
Forget it's not just about me.
Forget it's not your fault.
Do I forget that you don't want it?


Yes.
Twenty times over, a bit fat fucking Yes.

Circles

"i miss ****** ****** and you waaaaaa D:"

It's things like this that make me feel like I actually don't exist, and I really am just going around in circles.

HELLO UNIVERSE, I AM STILL HERE.

I have

honestly never felt this unhappy for such a long period of time.

Hm.

Things I'm currently scared of:

1. Making real friends at art school
2. Applying for/getting a job I don't completely hate
3. Learning to drive
4. Riding a bike
5. Failing at 1-4
6. Failing at anything
   
7. Having to grow up
8. Not being brave enough
9. Losing sight of what's really important
10. Myself.
    

Expectations:

I don't want them.

To Be Honest

I'm getting pretty fucking fed up with feeling like I don't exist to you any more.

Thoughtless. Careless. Heartless.

Fear.

My biggest fear is not death.
It is not the unknown.
Pain, torment,
The End.

What I fear most is that which,
Once lost,
Cannot be regained.
Cannot be replaced.

Time. Life. Love.

Ha.

In the wise words of Michael Cera:

If someone wants to be a part of your life, they'll be there.
So don't bother saving a spot for someone who won't make an effort to stay.

Three.

"These were the lovely bones that had grown around my absence: the connections - sometimes tenuous, sometimes made at great cost, but often magnificent - that happened after I was gone. And I began to see things in a way that let me hold the world without me in it. The events that my death wrought were merely the bones of a body that would become whole at some unpredictable time in the future. The price of what I came to see as this miraculous body had been my life."

How could I not think of you? How could anyone who ever knew you, not think of you.

You are still here.

There's No 'I' In Team

If we go down, we go down together.
Best friends means.... well, best friends means...

A storm.
A cracking.
A breaking.
A lifeboat.
A line.
A hope.

Too late.
This ship has sailed.

Jesus Christ

I know you think that I'm someone you can trust,
But I'm scared I'll get scared and I swear I'll try to nail you back up.
So do you think that we could work out a sign,
So I'll know it's you and that it's over so I won't even try.

La Science des Rêves

Sometimes dreams don't come true.

And sometimes it's better off that way.