I said I wouldn't write about you but then I saw what she wrote and my heart just dropped and my shoulders sagged. What I want more than anything is just to talk to you again, to get to know you better, and for you to see that it's not her, it's me okay? I want to scream it to you at the top of my lungs IT'S ME IT'S ME IT'S ME so that it sticks in your head and so you don't forget. I haven't let my hope get this high in so long and what she wrote just brought them crashing down on top of my head. Now everytime I read it my eyes fog up and I hate her I hate her I hate her all over again.

This isn't very poetic or even well written, but it's emotional and that's all that matters.

Close Call.

She’s at a party and she’s drunk.
Can in one hand, beer in the other.
‘The innocent one.’
Never kissed a boy before.
She’s dancing
Laughing
Singing to her friend in a cubby house
All the while
Oblivious
To how close she came.
He’s wearing a dress
(It was a themed party)
He’s kissing her
Borrows his friends keys
‘I got a girl; can I have your car?’
They go out the front
She doesn’t know what he’s thinking
‘We’re only going to kiss’
She tells her friend
The friend tells her not to go with him
She says no
A boy comes up and abuses the boy in the dress
‘He’s a creep!’
He tells the innocent girl
She doesn’t listen
Two girls come and yell at the boy in the dress
‘You stay away from her!’
‘Get off the road’
Someone says.
She is picked up and moved off the road
‘No, we’re only going to kiss.’
‘Do you seriously think that’s all he wants?’
‘I’m strong enough to fight him off’
‘No you can’t, look at the size of him
And look at the size of you.’
‘No!’
‘Listen to me!’
‘But I can’t just leave now, I’ll look stupid!’
‘Grab my hand, I’ll drag you and you can pretend to resist’
She is dragged away by her friend
‘No, stop it!
I’ll be back soon’
She tells the boy in the dress.
‘No you fucking will not’
The other nice boy tells her.
They go back to the party.
A girl walks up to the boy in the dress
‘I’m watching you’
She says.
The innocent one still doesn’t know
How close she came
To the things we hear about
And think
‘It will never happen to us.’

27.7.11

I don't know what to write

I've used up all my words
writing notes while my mind
floats somewhere else
(I must try to stop it doing that)
I haven't cried today
it tried to take me over
but I fought it away
no breakdown # 10 tonight (I've lost count)
It's getting easier to be
overcome by the bad things
in each day
'How was your day?'
'Alright I guess'
'Only alright?'
'Yeah'
Luckily she's there
to take the bad things away
it's what a mum does best after all
and I love her more for being there
everyday
'I don't want you to ever feel like you
can't talk to me about something'
Don't worry, I need you to make me
happy when I am sad
The stress gets too much sometimes
I don't know what I'd do
if she wasn't there to
take it away

The fall.

Falling Through Air
by Margery Snyder

Events are irrevocable
Some thoughts, once thought
Cannot be undone, once
Encoded in synaptic pathways
Come to the same end
However often re-enacted.

Gravity and time move
In one direction
As those people fell but once
Through awe and smoke
But are ever dead
No matter how often
The moment of their fall
Plays through my nerves...

So I fall through air
Between these scented trees
My feet dangling to gravity
As did theirs, but once,
This time, however often
I run down this hill.

Even the littlest moments
Are irrevocable, words said,
Once said, cannot be recalled.
They clasped hands and chose
Fire or falling. They chose
To fall together, tiny specks
Through air that fed the fire
Preceding the towers' greater crash.

So I, too, fall through air
This moment and the next
I love this life and let it pass
I'm still and always falling
I say to you,
Ever irrevocably
I love you
Leap with me.

I was revisiting what I've learnt about 9/11 in school and came accross this poem. This picture fills me with a great sadness whenever I see it.
I've been neglecting this blog, but it can't be helped I guess, life will always get in the way.
Hope to post more soon.

(I'm sorry if this upsets anyone with links to the September 11 attack, it was never my intention)

Something between regret and relief.

I'm sorry.
For what?
For being shy.
You don't have to be sorry, that's why I like you.

"I feel too much. That's what's going on.' 'Do you think one can feel too much? Or just feel in the wrong ways?' 'My insides don't match up with my outsides.' 'Do anyone's insides and outsides match up?' 'I don't know. I'm only me.' 'Maybe that's what a person's personality is: the difference between the inside and outside.' 'But it's worse for me.' 'I wonder if everyone thinks it's worse for him.' 'Probably. But it really is worse for me."

 — Jonathan Safran Foer (Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close)


It was one of the best books I've ever read.

I remember them.

I remember the nightmares.
The ones where I felt claustrophobic, where I could tell if one of the nightmares where coming on because of the brief moments of something that could have been fear, but a different type of fear than the usual fear. It was a greater and deeper rooted sense, almost a feeling of falling.
And even now I still get those moments.