Live long and prosper

Overrated children. It’s all just a game to them, it’s all about the way the journey feels rather than what the journey represents, what it contributes to them, to society. Emotions slip through sieves of repression, get mixed with gruel and salt and thrown back in my mouth... No wonder I don’t understand why they taste differently, or why my eyes burn. I have never felt fear grip me so strongly in my entire life.

Deprived of so much life it all seemed, as the cold forest surrounding grew into the warm light of day. Things began to warp and distort, people’s faces became beautiful to ugly, ugly to drunk. Stupid things were done. Slowly falling into the blackness that was consuming eyes, deciphering the ramblings of a man who would cut half the important words and letters out of sentences, forgetting thoughts before even speaking them... That was not comfortably numb. I was not comfortable.

Complete loss of all sense of control, slipping hands, slipping mind... What was I to do with this confused shell? I myself was barely holding it together... Haunting scenes of Fear and Loathing streamed through my mind as I saw his mental state worsen and worsen. It wasn’t going to be good. Accidental death is not a very nice girl, and I could see him dying, I could see me dying.

Keep it together, breathe in, breathe out. Reassure, reassure. Talk it all out... Nothing is going wrong, everything is fine. Was it all fine? Lying there, breathing heavy... I didn’t want to feel or understand, but what else was I to do?
I walked out into the cold, no shoes. This was going to be either easy or hard.
Tears pushed back with anger and prayer... Walking, talking, rambling nothings to myself, destination comfort zone... I just needed to see his face again, but the walk from first objective to the next would be long, would be hard. Walking, still talking; at first on the phone so that none who saw me would question my actions... Rambling now, without the phone, growing more paranoid at the cars parked in drive ways, on roads... Were there faces inside staring at me?
“Go away angry pillow men, I’m not scared”...

Coming to grips with what had just happened, whether I could have died, whether he could have died; a more common yet less tragic ‘Romeo and Juliet’, none of it made any sense to me. Cold feet... Walking over broken glass; was I bleeding? I felt a certain karmic payback if they were so I was determined to do nothing.
Singing old songs of lost feelings to pass the time, an hour becoming the longest hour of my life. People, looking so strange, coming at me from all sides.
I held my shit together- if I didn’t, things could have gone alot worse than they did. I got home and had 5 minutes to tell him everything before we would have more company... I wanted to cry, to roll up into a ball and be rocked to sleep, to be the one that needed comforting; like he does so well... I’m glad I could be strong enough to remain in a state where I wasn’t afraid anymore.

Friendship was realised this weekend; although I also realised that sometimes friends need to encourage sensibility more than a good time...
Dont dose to high when the supply is new. Sleep. Eat well...
Remember: No one expects for it to be too much... People don’t intend on flipping out.

Live long and prosper, and put our minds at ease.

pop culture or pop doldrums?

I remember when the only way you could be cool, was if you watched those shows and wore that brand and listened to that artist...

The top 40 hits were plastered over your walls in cheap Dolly magazine posters, and you thought you were the most popular girl in school if all the boys asked you to 'slow dance' at the Disco...



Then in high school, it became something else. You were popular if you were on the volleyball team and sat with the beautiful people, and got drunk every weekend at exclusive popular people parties... You now read Cosmopolitan and Vogue, and instead of playing with eachothers hair and doing nails you now glam yourselves up and take facebook and myspace photos together, in some girls bathroom, with all the right angles...



I spent much of my life observing these people, this strange, obscure breed of children who intended on ruling the world with 'good intentions'... Those girls that oozed a reality that I never knew... Something I noticed, now that I'm no longer forced to spend my days with people who never liked me nor respected me, this weird vice these people had on us as a whole, is gone.



Now you're cool if you're vintage and retrospective, if you listen to that hell exclusive underground semi grunge semi laid back acoustic band 'Something without a name' full of guys that are gay and hairy and wear thick rimmed glasses; or that 80's pop rock group with a antiestablishment vibe 'Never love lucy' and you wear a french hat and drink skinny machiato's in internet cafe's. It's now about the people who didn't matter in highschool. It's now those little, quiet people that only ever spoke loudly when the debate of dota or counterstrike came into play that really benefit from these years to come.



As soon as we walked out into the real world, we found that the ones in university and the ones at tafe that are in the same classes as us are not only intelligent, but have respect for the subtle differences in who we are as beings... It's not about being a generic fuckwit anymore, it's about 'Hey you can fire-twirl? thats fucking awesome' 'Hey you design your own drugs? Fucken aye buddeh'...



Noone wants to be the same anymore, because the reality of being the same is admitting you were just as fucking horrid and stagnant as all those pricks you wanted to shank in highschool. It means you're just like everyone you always hated, and will die like everyone you always hated. It's accepting defeat.



I am different, Im fucked, im warped and tapped and stupidly intelligent... And i wouldn't change a single decision I made in my entire life because it would risk me not being who I am today. All the qualities that I was once resented for, are now adored. It's not the things that are the same within me that grab everyone's attention... It's those special things that you just dont see now days.



So a message to the kids, don't be popular in highschool... Be remembered. Be different.

mornings of perfect weather

Such a glorious morning, but so much the same. I woke up in a boys bed, much to small for us both yet suprisingly comfortable, feeling warm breath on my neck and clammy hands around my waist. 'Good morning' I heard him say...

I have spend many mornings just like this one, many mornings next to someone, many mornings of turning to face an eager smile, to be greeted with a tender kiss. So why was this morning special?
This was like no other morning because for the first time, I was openly careless. I had not a single trouble in the entire universe this morning... For as his eyes opened, the sun rose; because when he looks at me, it's like all the light energies of the world are circling eachother in a pool of lime green, splashed with a hint of yellow, lighting the very room in which we sit, lighting my very life. I woke up to find myself lost in the beauty of the human form.

My life with this person is a new haze of an old friendship, simple understandings, simple equality. It's about the laughter, the kisses, the touch. And all the while, what we do we do because we know it can't be done with any other. It fits so much better this way, the way it all panned out, and that's why we do it... In this house, the flow is followed; and I'm happily a follower.

It's funny, how things can flip on someone faster than they know it. My life it seems, has gotten very, very good by making very risky decisions, and I think that it's all slowly but surely, paying off. I am complete, I am one, and for once things aren't too intense for me. For one things run smoothly.
Hard decisions have to be made sometimes when people want to reap positive benefits. And although it pains me to know that others are now hurting, hurting because it's my fault, I know like many other people know that unrequited love is a love that doesn't last forever. That grudges and old tears in young hearts do truly heal over time. It will turn a new page, bring hope to the rising of the new dawn... Tomorrow and today, never about yesterday.

It's because I know this rule of the heart that I do not allow myself to dwell and brood on the things that would once have me fuming with stress and rage... I'm going to enjoy my new life to the best of my ability, and use my past as experience to help guide me...

It's nice to know that when I did choose to climb back up the mountain, I was greeted by someone not at the top, but half way... And it seems we have been there every step of the way for eachother, and that because of this union, we didn't fail... And now a different kind of future holds sway.

I would give anything to inject some antivenom into this bite, so that the sting and swelling may disapear, but alas, there is no antidote for a broken heart... All I can do is be honest, and kind, and let things heal in the old fashion way.
My heart is like a jigsaw puzzle... It was broken by a young fool many years ago, and I have been trying to put it all back together for quite sometime... I feel like I have finally found the person that has been holding the missing piece all this time, right under my nose. I feel it beating like a jungle drum, doong a doong doong a rooka dooka doong doong... drums in the deep.

I know I can feel love again, because I have a reason to go to bed at night, and wake up in the morning... It's the hope of seeing him again.

gaining a heart means loosing the value of time... hours only mean soemthing if its worth counting them down till I can see him next. Im suprised at how hard Im crushing on this kid.

I want to be apart of it... His life.

The bitter End

This is not the end. I have forseen this day coming, in my heart, in my head, my stomach... As it hurls and looses balance, and the walls shrink around me...

Fear not my friends, for I am coming back; back to the real world, back to where this all began to start everything all over again.



This time I have learned so much, and grown faster than I have in my entire life before this. I am not the old me anymore, I have seen, heard, spoke to things more powerful than space or time in this dimension. Purpose, fills my days again.



It was not that I didn't enjoy the months past, or thought that many more could have been spent in content happiness... It was that it was simply the time for me to make what little I could of days past, and with a strong, deep breath, plummet over the edge, just to see if I would die.



And at that point, I'm not sure I cared whether I died or not, but just wanted to feel something, anything... to know that I haven't wasted away to noone, a shadow of a name that I'll wear in contempt with these people. But die, I did not. And now I climb to the top again, hand over hand, foot over foot up the mystic mountain... And when I reach the top, a man will be standing there, waiting to take my grubby little hand and pull me to safety... Or, I'll be met with lonliness, and there I shall sit and wait until someone does, finally, find me hovering there.



Rejoice; those of you that feel the bitter sweet pain of departure, feel the sarcasm crawling up your nostrils and the hairs of resentment stand up on the back of your neck... It's all a lesson, it's all apart of gods divine plan.

Rebirth

New change.
New love, reborn from that of old.

Unconditional faith in those around us. Family. Friends.

Where am I today? Further than I was yesterday. I love the morning; where you open your eyes to a warm sun, the weight of your blankets securing you in your bubble of fluffy, rested joy... The sun shining in, rising to the noon, a promise of new hope, new joy, new love.
Spread peace.

Take that in which we all strive to acheive, and make it happen today. Who is stopping me? My life is not in my control, that which I will ultimately end up here for is a purpose beyond my understanding; so when someone asks me to help them, to help them change for the better-- My heart sings... What better way to show love then this? Being asked for help is humbling and hard to do.

So I said yes. Someone so internally troubled, all I want is to see them grow, watch them spread like a tree, upwards and outwards; towards the heavens. Towards God.

And so tonight, when I put my head to my pillow, I will be thanking the world. Thanking my life for blessing me with the honour of being a shoulder to lean on, and asking for the strength to get up the next day so that I may continue to do what I was put here for...

Spread peace, rejoice and love! It is the greatest year of all our lives, we are here to grow so let us grow! Up and up children, up and onto new days, new hopes, new dreams. Let's all acheive.
Let's all believe in something greater.

Take my hand and we will soar. There is only a brighter future ahead of us.
I love without pain once more.
I grow
I expand
I believe

Comparisons are easily done when you've had a taste of perfection.

Old gods on new streets... The deep breath before the plunge, that one, crystaline moment of clarity, of silence. Where is my generation's revolution?
I grow tired and weary of this place... Trudging endlessly through the mud, awaiting the grass on the other side; awaiting my justice. When will the day come where all this hard work and pain will be worth it? There's nothing worth fighting for anymore.

I'm hurting inside. I'm screaming and crying and punching out at the world around me and the one thing that can make it better is all about parties and money and secret agenda's. It's all the plan, the plan that has been 'the plan' for so long before me; how could I ever ask it to stop? How could I ever ask for any form of attention?

It's all about the look. It's all about 'Look at me, I'm the guy up there, I'm the dude with the good times... I'm all about destroying minds and reaping the profitable benefits... Hey ladies, wanna see how phat this shit is?' and there I sit, watching and thinking... Watching the boundaries seem to get closer and closer to breaking point. Was it not a party? Was it not something that I was invited too?
So why then do I sit, stiff and lifeless in my chair, consuming cigarette after cigarette to numb the pain of the low blows, the pathetic cuts and jabs I recieve for the few breif minutes that he's outside? Sitting across the table ofcourse, when the chairs beside me are all empty.

This is not the high life.
This is not love.

Love is a strong word... It's a word of trust, of affection, of family. It's a bond that chooses you; something special and sacred. It should be honored, and how can he look me in the eyes and say that he honours it?... I try so hard to be what I am supposed to be... To do my duty as his place of comfort, of love. And he writes like he is alone, and noone and nothing can solidate him. I'm right here to take on the weight of his world, and it's thrown back in my face.

Empty promise after empty promise, and all I want is a few hours of a day... A tiny moment of a day, a week where I could just be held... Be hugged and kissed and touched like I was a goddess and nothing was better... Just the smallest, littlest of whiles... Am I so wrong for desiring to be desired?

I need touch. Skin on Skin. I'm not some 'thing' that he can add to 'the life'. I'm not a possession, I'm a person and I have needs too. I need some attention, positive attention, like his night is obviously different or better because I'm there. Why do I endlessly follow if the leader wouldn't even know if I had stopped following months ago. Just turns around one day 'Shit, where did she go?'

I can't escape this endless torment... My own life mocks me, I'm special but I'm being made to feel ordinary... Doesn't he remember that night? Can't he see how tired I am of all this?

Sitting outside, coned in tears and silence... It fell from his lips and for one second- time stopped. there was nothing that could of made me snap out of that moment. Doesn't he remember the pain of the end of us? Where he told me he would stop dealing, stop taking acid if it meant I was with him? Would he sacrifice those things now for me?
Somedays I think he would trade me for those things...

A promise was made in the granny flat the next day... I remember saying to him 'Don't make me regret it... Don't make me look back at this moment and wish that I had just walked away while I had the strength' and what is happening now? Everything is the way it was before...

I'm angry, and oppressed, and this shit has got to stop.

Maybe It's all doom and gloom, but things get better in one part of us, something else turns to shit because of it.

I'm torn, lost and broken and I thought I needed him to make it all better but maybe it's a better idea to find that within someone else. Maybe if I stop caring, I'll scare him and he'll realise what this should be about.

Surround yourself with possible disapointments and you will experience disapointment... People will let you down; but I know that there are SO many guys out there who would kill to be with a chick like me, and I don't see why I should go through this bullshit from someone who clearly doesn't know what he's got... Or how lucky he is that I've stayed for this long...
But who would I be without him? What would become of my life? The only fear I have of walking away is the pain of the absence... Of lonliness. Of being with someone who isn't him.

I'm not single, but I'm still lonely.

That's not right.

If he wants to play superman... Why can't I be his Lois Lane?

The silence of Silent Bob

Quality or quantity?
Do I sit here in my chair and pump out literature like a monkey hyped up on amphetamines with nothing but a type writer? Or do I sit and plot and think and dwell, until I find something that's truly striking- something that hits the people in the home spot?
However; I begin to ponder... What if my quality isn't as good as I think? Should I then be creating more thus to improve on my writing skills if they infact are not as developed as I thought they were?

I suppose I should look at it this way... How much more attention do we give to silent bob when he finally speaks? Jay spends most of the movies saying alot, yet saying nothing. Whereas silent bob can portray what his intentions and thoughts are without saying anything, however when words are important, and he does speak- he saves the day.

Writing can be both relieving and stressful. And I'm finding it to be the latter of late.
Words seem to slip through my fingers and ideas blow away like my mind is a sand storm. Nothing sticks, nothing fits in the way of words...
Look at my last blog... 'Crap a la crap'. I always said to myself 'This will not be one of those venting blogs where people who are depressed about how shit their lives are shit their life story over the internet, thus spreading the pain and disaster even further'... And I caved...

The power of the written word is such a beautiful thing. It can make a life or destroy a life, it can contract a soul to the fiery pits of hell for all eternity... It can unite, it can break apart. People listen to those who choose to use their voice... And what better way to be heard than to be heard by the poetic, melodic scriptures of a writer?

And with that note, I can only hope that this writers block gets removed soon. It seems in times of financial strife I cannot play guitar, write or paint or draw... I need to find my muze within something again.

I shall return when my time is ready.