Sunday, 29 June 2008
Saturday, 28 June 2008
My notion was that you had been
Don't let him know she liked them best,
'Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?'
'That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,'
'I don't know where. . .'
'Then it doesn't matter which way you go,' said the Cat.
'In that direction,' the Cat said, waving its right paw round,
'lives a Hatter: and in that direction,' waving the other paw,
'lives a March Hare. Visit either you like: they're both mad.'
'But I don't want to go among mad people,' Alice remarked.
'Oh, you can't help that,' said the Cat:
'we're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad.'
'How do you know I'm mad?' said Alice
'You must be' said the Cat
'or you wouldn't have come here'
Wednesday, 25 June 2008
If I just lay here, will the world realise? Will they realise that somebody from the population is missing?
I took a trip; I pierced my left arm with those needles; familiar, yet so foreign. Nobody knows what to do with me. I’ve been going on like this for as long as I can remember. Ever since I found my mothers stash. I still continued on, even after watching her cripple up on the floor, blood trickling out of her mouth, body contorting into odd shapes, eyes flickering back into her head. In fact, it inspired me, such a beautiful, dramatic death.
I saw the strip of neon, an oasis of colour and light. The drug rushed to my brain, it made me feel invincible, as if my soul was trying to break loose of my body. It made me wild with adrenaline, all this energy and nowhere to release it. So I just lay there, and witnessed the display of colours the drug had to show me. I loved every explosion of light; I loved how each sound was blasted louder than normal. I loved how the drug made me feel free.
Back to my question, I don’t see why they should; the world is swarming with people more important than I. We're all too busy with our monotonous lifestyles, and our nonchalant routines. There isn’t a person who would take time off their meaningless tasks to think about that person lying on her bathroom floor, dying.
Monday, 23 June 2008
Show me a garden thats bursting into life.
Have you ever wanted to leave everything behind, and run away to somewhere new? Run away to a place where nobody knows who you are, a place where you can start over and change every little flaw you hate about yourself? Its like a second chance, right?
I got that "second chance". But i didn't take it. Sure, i left the place where i grew up, i left the friends i grew up with, i left the sights and sounds i was familiar with. Everything around me changed, the people, the language, the religions, the traditions, the ethics, the trends.. Everything. But not me.
Cause the fact that i had left that place i call home was what made me want to stay the same. I am the closest thing to that place i miss so much. And once i change who i am, i'd probably be almost completely cut off from that place.
But that's not all.
Sure, i get tempted, to "change who i am", "start over", "rewind". But I dont see the point in it. What're you gonna do? Change everything you grew up believing in, everything you grew up knowing? Everything you grew up being. It doesn't sound worth it. The people we surround ourselves with feel a certain way about us because we are who we are. And once you change who you are, you're gonna lose them. They'll have to change all their personal feelings for you, once you start over, the opinions start over. The relationships start over.
Sometimes we can't stand who we are, we hate what we see in the mirror. But there are people out there who love that very image. But i know, that when you hate yourself, the only people keeping you hanging on are the people which love you. The people which soften every sharp corner. And to lose them, just to try start over.. leaves you ending up with nobody knowing you. And losing the people you love, for that, just doesn't seem worth it.
Saturday, 14 June 2008
Run away. Get away.
Do you know that feeling, where you feel so stressed and there has been so much weight on your shoulders, that you just want to get away, but you can't? Thats how i've been feeling these past few days. I've been wanting to just somehow, find a way to let go and forget about the crap that's been stressing me. I need that stretch of road, and the wind through my hair. To not have a worry in the world, and all that matters is, well, nothing. Nothing will matter. And nobody will bother me. It would just be the road and I. Driving, yet going nowhere. But the thing is, i dont know how to find it. That escape. And how're you supposed to let go when you dont know how? I don't think you can.
white sand and seashells
and for the heat spells.
Thursday, 12 June 2008
Saturday, 7 June 2008
My eyes are misting over. The images cross the threshold of my mind, along with the broken promises; of a bright future, of security, and my biggest failure: my promise of love. I had hope in you. I was going to make you a better person than I ever was. You were my chance, my only chance to be able to look in the mirror and not hate everything I see.
I remember all the things I wanted to do and become in life, and each day is a reminder that I didn’t become any one of them. There’s only so much a person can take, my child. And I can’t take it, I can’t control it; this disease, this thing that’s taking over my mind. I just can’t, because my dear child, you are not the first. And you probably will not be the last.
Well, I never want to see you unhappy
Did I make it that
Goodbye, my almost lover
Friday, 6 June 2008
Well, I'm the kinda girl who would chase vans. As in literally run after a school bus, to just feel.. free. I'm silly, and i'd do goofy things for a laugh, `cause thats when we truly let go. I'm the kinda girl who makes up a secret language (I WAS EIGHT.) just to make you feel like you're missing out. I'm one of those girls who lies about having a secret laboratory in her closet (also eight) and wanted to be a real life butt-kicking Lara Croft (okay, I'll admit, I still wanna be her). But hey, I'm not afraid to be me. And maybe being Joanna Kennedy involves drawing a code-requesting door on the back of your closet, carrying a butter knife and a flashlight wherever you go and even writing a new phonetical alphabet and memorising it to show off, but it's who I am. And there's no one else I'd rather be.