When

Oh, when am I ever going to learn that sometimes I should just keep my fucking mouth shut.

Oh, that's right,

Never.

Never

Never, ever, give anything your all.

Nothing hurts more than watching anything waste your everything, right in front of your eyes.

Doute

It shouldn't be like this, it shouldn't be like this, it shouldn't be like this, it shouldn't be like this, it shouldn't be like this, it shouldn't be like this, it shouldn't be like this, it shouldn't be like this, it shouldn't be like this.

It shouldn't be like this.

Why is it always like this?

Jamais

Never before have I felt so much and so little at the same time.
So much betrayal, so little remorse, so much hurt, so little trust.
Never before have I been so thoroughly condemned,
For something I was given no chance to right.
Never before...
Never again.

Injuste

It still wrenches at my gut, and tears at my insides, just how unfair this is. How much you totally and utterly didn't deserve it. And how cruel it is that there's nothing can be done, and nothing can be said which will bring you back. It's been a month, and it's felt like the longest time, but I know for some it would feel like only yesterday that you were here, smiling that incredible smile of yours.

I don't know why I do it, but I find myself pouring over the words and thoughts and tears that are spilt for you, and I find myself overwhelmed. Just completely lost in all the emotions, and the struggle between grief and happiness. I barely knew you, but I feel like I've come to know a part of you just by reading the heartbreak and love that still surrounds you. And it feels like you're still here.

My perspective has honestly been changed for good, and for the better, thanks to you. It's like this myriad of bittersweet lessons-learned have sprung up. In every orange rose, in each bright smile, is a reminder of the beauty of life, and all that we have to cherish. And in the oddest way, there's a sense of safety, knowing you're up there, and out there, looking over the ones you love.

Because even though I doubt you'll spend any time watching me and my little life, it's kinda nice to know that someday, when I need it, someone will be looking over me too.

So thanks, Megan, for teaching me that angels do exist, and that they are truly, truly beautiful.

I'm scared.

So scared of all the things I don't know.

Sleep

I can't sleep.
I can't speak to you.


The cogs in my brain won't stop whirring,
The gears of my mind won't stand still.
My eyes are wide open, my body won't rest,
And my heart won't stop beating until...

100

Today was so very tragically beautiful.
Everything was wrong, but it couldn't have gone better.
Tears and bittersweet smiles.
Everyone was there.
Except you.
But you came with the wind, and you shone in the sun.
And you carried all their love away.
And you left everyone with the knowledge that you're still here.
In the hearts of your friends, in the sway of the trees.
And in one hundred orange balloons,
Becoming the skies.

Down The Way

"You are mine, I am yours, let's not fuck around."

Angus and Julia Stone's latest album is the most beautiful piece of heartbreak I've ever heard.

Happiness.

"There's a world of difference between feeling happy and feeling whole."

Words to live by, and words to die by.

Megan Anne Linnane, may you find the peace and justice you deserve.

Today

Today was just one of those days.
I'm sure you've all had one.
That one day in a hundred,
Where every little thing
Goes right.

What if?

What if it was you who couldn't stop crying.
What if it was you that felt disgusted and demeaned.

What if it was you fighting back the urge to be sick.
What if it was you who couldn't bare to look them in the eye.

What if it was you wanting to speak, but unable.
What if it was you having your insides torn in two.

What if it was you?

But it wasn't you, was it.
It was me.

So don't say sorry.
Aplogise.

I have

A new blog.

http://www.agoodmorningmayonnaise.blogspot.com/

It's instead of having a tumblr, because although I enjoy recycling photos,
I enjoy recycling words more.

The name and url come from the illustration on the front of my Morning Glory notebook in which I wrote down all of the things in this new blog.

And, yeah.

Moche

Today, I was ugly.
Not just at first sight, like usual,
But all day.
Ugly all day.

Sometimes, I am beautiful.
Not at first sight, of course not,
But in the end.
Beautiful in the end.

But today, I was ugly.
This is what happens, sometimes,
When I don't have, someone
To tell me I'm beautiful.

Ugly Always, Beautiful Sometimes.

What do you do

When you see someone doing something they shouldn't?
When you don't know if things are what they seem.
When you can't figure out what's best.
When you aren't even sure of what you saw.
When you feel guilty for telling the truth.
When you feel guilty for keeping it hidden.

What will I do?

I am

a quitter.

And that's all there is to it.

Because I have no way to change.

And even if I did,

I'd quit that too.

Tes Baisers

I don't think I'll ever get used to them.
I don't want to ever get used to them.
I love the way they still give me butterflies.
The way they always manage to feel different.
The way they catch me off guard.
And leave me stunned.

Je veux

Je veux te parler, maintenant plus que jamais.

Pourquoi je ne peux pas te parler ?

Fatigué

I feel so tired lately. It's like all I can do is sleep, and breathing and thinking and living is a struggle. The things I love take effort, and I can't bring myself to fully give anything my all. It scares me to feel like this, to feel like there's no use even trying because I'm not going to be able to finish anything. To do anything.

I hate being sick. And knowing I'm sick, and full of viruses, makes me feel even more ill. I was running on adrenaline, but now my mind has caught up to my body, and I can't even keep up with myself. It's the aching under my eyes, at the tip of my spine. It's the joints of my fingers that just won't crack. It's the sickly tickle at the back of my throat. It's the tingling sensation all over my torso, like pins and needles I can't stamp out.

I get so frustrated, I just want to rip everything apart. You know that feeling, the one where you just need to be stretched out further than you thought possible, until everything is pulling and tearing and so close to breaking. I'm so close to breaking.

I just need to sleep. And I just want to sleep. But I want to be kept awake. Like I used to be. Every night, without fail. You used to keep me up. You used to make it worth it to stay awake.

Make it worth it. Keep me awake. Stay with me.

Fin Heureuse

There are no happy endings.

An end is an end; endlessly ending.

Contusions

Actions speak louder than words.

Words can leave bruises just the same.

Ciel blanc

Today, the sky isn't blue.
There are no clouds.
There is no sun.
It is just sky.
White sky.

Why

Why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why?

Fuck.

Jeff Buckley

Still amazes me every time I listen to him. Every single time. And I love the surprise I get when I stumble upon music of his that I previously haven't heard. The light, hollow feeling that washes over me along with his voice. And I never felt that feeling stronger than when I first heard his duet with Elizabeth Taylor.

All flowers in time bend towards the sun.
I know you say that there's no-one for you,
But here is one, here is one... here is one

One that can never be known;
Either all drunk with the world at her feet,
Or sober with no place to go.

I don't know if angels are real, but if they are, Buckley was one of them . He created music about life, and for life, and that made you want to live. And I find it painfully ironic that he had his life taken from him by no means of his own. There aren't many people I would give my life for, but if it meant even one more song - one more hymn to live my life by - I'd give a piece of my soul to have him back. Then again, I'm a strong believer in fate.

Maybe Duncan Sheik put it best when he said "Of course there is grace, and those halos of pain. Maybe he sang what he came here to sing". Maybe the world just couldn't handle so much power and beauty in one form. Or maybe I should stop caring so much about dead musicians.

Mon Anniv

It's my birthday. It's really not that exciting. No one seems to care about 17ths any more. I feel like I've been this age forever. I don't feel any older. I just don't feel as young. Nothing else has changed.

My Gran still gets excited that she knows how to text. My auntie still has no idea I hate all the cheap oversized jewellery she sends me every year. The rest of my relatives still won't remember it's my birthday til next week. Or will just send me a joint birthday/christmas present in five and a half months time. My dad still forgot to say happy birthday to me this morning. I'm still left on my own while my family go about usual daily life. And I still hate to say it, but sometimes I wish people would make a bigger deal of me.

Even though my to-do-list for today consists of cleaning the bathroom, tidying my bed, and eating spazz dogg for dinner, I did have some rather nice birthday celebrations last night. Went out to my favourite ever Japanese restaurant, with traditional food and those little tables where you take off your shoes and sit on a cushion. And of all the people (excluding familia of course) I could have invited, from my dozens and dozens of 'friends' and acquaintances... I chose Six.

At first, I felt kind of sad that of all the people in my life, there are only 6 I would consider true friends that I want to celebrate my birthday with. But then, if it really came down to it, I would be quite happy living my life with only those 6 people. And had anyone else been there last night, I wouldn't have been able to feel 100% comfortable, and 99% happy.

That last 1% is missing, because there is actually one more person I would have liked to be there. And yes it's a cliché, but words can't describe how I feel about him, and the total bliss I would have felt had he been here to celebrate with me. But, it's tradition that I never get what I want most on my birthday, and apart from the Netherlands winning the World Cup final, there was nothing I wanted more at that point in time.

Wow, big blog.

Bête Noire

It really grinds my gears when people let Facebook relationships statuses dictate their lives.

Are you two going out?
Yeah we are :)
Well why aren't you together on Facebook? Clearly if you're not 'in a relationship' on Facebook, you're not actually in a committed relationship and it basically means you don't honestly like each other.
You're right! I have to make it Facebook official asap, and expose even more of my personal life to the secure world of the internet. Thanks, friend, for your valuable advice and wisdom.

Get fucking real.

Respect.

It seems that guys thesedays cop a lot of shit for not 'respecting' women. For whatever reason, these guys are treating girls in a way that they end up feeling used and degraded, and totally disrespected. Granted, I myself have been in such a situation, but the blame can't all be put on them. How can we expect boys to respect girls who don't respect themselves? Who don't even know how to respect themselves.

Respect is a two way street, and some of you are just asking to be run over.

fuckyeahskinnybitch.

http://fuckyeahskinnybitch.tumblr.com/ - the first tumblr I ever saw.
I haven't been on it in months, and just checked it out, only to find a new introductory paragraph:

I make mistakes. I have regrets. I hate being alone. I’m always late. I hate school. I never call anyone back. I don’t like being wrong. I’m a huge procrastinator. I act like I’m a lot tougher than I am. I hate being ignored. I cry. I’m shy. I get annoyed by people too easily. I have enemies. I can’t sing. I have horrible balance. I laugh really obnoxiously. I can’t trust anyone with my life. Many things just seem to get to me. I’m not perfect. But the beauty of it is that I don’t care.

This is me. My brain cannot comprehend this feeling of reading someone else's words, and feeling as if they belong coming out of my own mouth.

Ahhh, the beauty of the internet.

And sometimes

I smile, just because my face won't let me do anything else.

Two things I hate:

Being embarrassed, and being disappointed.
I know I'm having a bad day when I am both of these in the space of ten minutes.
Today was a bad day.

Le Sourir

Plastered across my face,
etched into my cheeks,
stretched from ear to ear,
sparkling in my eyes,
dripping from my lips,
resounding through my entire body.

Painfully happy, and never wanting it to end.

Sometimes

I smile, just because I know it makes you happy.

Je Dors

I sleep with my legs to my chest
I sleep with my toes curled in the bottom sheet
I sleep with my pillow cradled in my arms
I sleep with my toy bunny Flopsy tucked under my neck

I sleep with my duna wrapped around me
I sleep with my iPod in my ears, cord around my throat
I sleep with my firsts clenched
I sleep with my brow furrowed

I sleep like I'm never going to wake up
Because maybe I'm not
I sleep like there's no tomorrow
Because maybe there isn't

I knew

I knew you'd say that.

I knew you'd know I'd say that.

A piece of advice.

Everytime you think "I shouldn't do this."

Do it.

And do it well.

So I've decided

That I'm going to give up hoping for the world to be a safe place.
Because evidently, we're all fucked.
And it's really hard to find hope right now.

So I think

this is the first actual blog-like post I've written.
I never really thought of this as a place for straight-up personal thoughts, in a way that it's just like I'm talking to the internet. (Hello internet).

And seriously this is really weird because anyone could read this, and I know some of the people that will (Hello followers) but it's like I'm just talking to the internet itself, which is basically the universe. Nothing is sacred.

But all that aside, the point of this is I think to have a post that has my raw thoughts, written before I make them all nice and fancy and self-proclaimed 'poetic'. Also I cbf making a tumblr which seems to be the real place for this kind of aimless meandering outlet.

SO! Long story short I don't have facebook on weekdays, and it hasn't bothered me until now, but today is one of those days where I really want to talk to someone, and I have already spent the majority of my credit on said person. And I didn't mean to get myself into this, but I think everyone has at least once known that person that just makes them smile. And you could talk to them non-stop and not notice that several hours have passed, and you haven't done anything productive in that time but made yourself happy. Which I think should be far more important than English essays and Art backup, but there's high school for you. So I'm currently rather unhappy, and expressing this unhappiness through this here blog. Evidently.

However, I think the moral of the story is that it's definitely possible to have too much of a good thing. Not getting what I want is in turn good for me, because I don't want to be desensitised and start taking this for granted, and to make my parents happy I'm going to throw in that I don't want to fuck up year 12 and should be utilising my time doing homework and other such laborious activities. Basically writing this has made me realise I need to suck it up and stop relying on other people to make me happy, but I should still let myself be happy if that's what my brain wants. Or something. I have a feeling that last sentence was totally unrelated. Yeah? Mad.

Now, goodbye followers/random blog readers/stalkers/internet/universe.
If you like this post, let me know so I know whether I should write another one some time?
Or I can stick to my usual sentimental crap.
Choice is yours!
Well not really, because this is my blog.
Goddamn this was a bad idea.

la maladie

It frustrates me that you can't see how unhealthy this is.

And I don't mean it has too many goddamn calories.

le vingt quatrième

What's wrong with me
What's wrong
Why can't I do it
Why can't I stop
Who is to blame
Who can help
Where is the problem
Where is the answer
When did it start
When will it end
When will I realise
Sometimes it's easier
To ask what's right

le vingt troisième

There are the millions of people you will never talk to,
quite simply because you will never meet them.

Then there are the thousands you will never talk to again,
though you won't even notice.

There are the hundreds you will never talk to again,
for you can never seem to find the courage.

There are the dozens you will never talk to again,
no matter how hard you try to say the words.

There are the few you will never talk to again,
as a result of your own hatred and pride.

Then there are the ones you will never talk to again,
because you will never get the chance.

Those are the ones you will miss,
and those are the words you will utter to the universe
because there is no one else fit to hear them.

So when you talk to those ones, don't just talk.
Speak.

l'impossible

And just like that, you did what you said you never could.

But then you never really had a problem making the impossible possible.

le vingt deuxième

I didn't think it was possible. I was certain it wasn't. I had prepared myself for everything but this. Yet you did the one thing I never expected you to do. You managed to turn it all around. I was so certain, so sure. I didn't think anyone could change that. Least of all you. After all, it was your fault.

But you, you, in your own way, came along and threw it all back in my face. You lead me to believe things could work out. That things could be perfect, and I was doing it right. And in one short week, you reversed the roles. You hurt me.

I never knew you could really do it. You know - really, actually do it. But you did, and you really fucked it up this time.

And just like that, the lyrics weren't a parallel of the thoughts running through my head. They were your words, written for you.

le vingt et un

Do you think it's romantic? Telling me we were the result of all things in our solar system suddenly becoming perfectly aligned? A cosmic union that ended with a heavenly bang, creating something of astral proportions. I'm sorry to say, but I am not universal. I am not a star. I am not a planet. I'm not even Pluto.

Of all the planets, Pluto is the saddest. Spending aeons in false hope. Believed to be part of a greater whole. Small, yet significant. But oh, Pluto, when times changed you were deemed insignificant. Neither grand nor glorious enough to belong with the other planets. And just like that, you lost everything you once were. No longer a planet, but a piece of debris, cluttering the edges of our starlit galaxy. Though do not lose all faith, for there are those few who shall remember you for what you once were. What you still deserve to be. Even when the history books are all rewritten, the astrological charts redrawn, the last traces of your planetary reign removed, you shall still be Pluto, the planet that never was.

I wish this much could be said for me.
I am but a trace of dust, floating, fading in your atmosphere. You cannot even reach out to take hold, to get a grip. I am not a planet. Nor do I want to be.
I want to be the sun.
I want the world to revolve around me.

jalousie.

Envy; so much more preferable then jealousy. So much more positive. But what if I don't want to be positive? What if I want to hate you, and everything you have? If only it were that easy.
Jealousy; one of the least compliant emotions.