Friday, 4 January 2008


there have been a number of changes to my outlook this year. i'd like to think i'm not quite the same confused, melancholy person i was some time ago. i think i've viewed everything this year with the potential to be amazing, and maybe that paid off. she still makes the odd appearance now and then but they're few and far between and sometimes i think it's important to have something to act as a contrast against the shiny new me. the odd insight into the frightening world of that girl is enough to make me pull myself together again.

i've definitely had a few lessons in life this year. love - continued, reinforced. euphoria - synthetic or otherwise. acceptance - among others but more importantly with myself for the first time. defeat - on a national and household level. and death. this one surprised me a bit. i thought i had acceded cessation and its consequences but even now having faced it on a closer, more personal level, i'm still not exactly sure what i'm supposed to feel or think about it.

people often talk about experiencing a 'wake-up call' after losing someone or facing their own mortality. i suppose the latter is altogether a different argument but it fits into the design of this entry. these people are suddenly alerted to the fact that time is ticking and they need to live every day as if it's their last and all that nauseating shit.

i think it may have done the opposite for me. i'm aware just how capricious life can be but also how atomic everyday is. it's not futile - just think of all those beautiful moments of elation and despair that exist for eternity inside someone. it seems crystal clear to me now that life simply is and then simply isn't. maybe that's not enough for some people but i like to think it has an elusive appeal.

Tuesday, 23 January 2007

she's lost it

quite often i come back here and read whatever i've last written as though i'm looking at the words for the first time. maybe that's just how often my perspective changes. or something like that. or whatever.

i don't think i ever really realised how poisonous i can be. how my words occasionally have a way of shooting from my mouth to a reluctant ear - somewhat like an arrow from a bow to a big round bullseye, instead of the way they ought to. used to. like delicious wine poured from a crystal glass to an open, ready, waiting mouth.

and what does that mean?

those gorgeous feelings of newness and limpidness. that beautiful ache in my chest. that un-scientific force that held me so close to something that wanted me so much. and all ruined by the very things i thought would only make it stronger, warmer, deeper.

age has made me old and nolonger an idiosyncrasy in a party of 'grown ups'. beauty has cut me off, perhaps pissed off that i neglected to utilise it when it was so raw. and innocence, more cruel now than it has been for 6 years, just can't help but laugh at me now that i'm a slut.

they've all abandoned me in the worst way. i'll never be sixteen again. i'll never be as beautiful as i was then. and i'll never be pure, like i was then.

i can't stand irony.

Friday, 8 December 2006

i'm really quite sick of feeling like a fool

Lately, I’ve been trying to lower my expectations so that when you disappoint me, as you do quite frequently, the disappointment won’t show on my face. It still makes me want to cry, but it’s become so comical to me: that surprised/sad/guilty look on your face; that tone in your voice. It’s always there looking at me inquisitively after you’ve just put in the shittiest amount of effort possible for me.

The funniest thing though, is when I see you and your dad pulling that ridiculous face together. Now that does make me laugh out loud. Like two naughty little boys. It’s like you’re both afraid that you’re in trouble, but not enough so to make you care enough about what you did/didn’t do or who you did/didn’t do it to to stop you from putting any extra effort in next time. You’re just not made that way are you? It’s really quite pathetic.

Example: Your dad took a shower on a Sunday morning (at about noon after waking your mum up at dawn so he could watch the cricket in bed) and left the bathroom window open to air it out. That was very nice (and rare) of him. Then when it flung wide open and blew a gale through the house it blew you mums things out the window.

You stood there with your mum watching the gale outside and you had that face on. And you made excuses for him. And that tone was in your voice. You actually told her not be mad at him. I looked at you in disbelief, somewhat amused/incensed. Was this your mum’s fault? You somehow shifted it that way.

Meanwhile I got distracted when I saw your dad (ten minutes after the window flung open) go outside with a weatherproof jacket and a cap on to stop him from getting wet or making his hair untidy, to try and find any of the things that had blown (further now, after ten minutes) away. I had to laugh then.

That look on your face: so wounded! But only for your dad. Not for your mum. Never for your mum. Never for me either.

I like to see the way that you act guilty even before I’ve reacted to whatever shitty thing you’ve just done. It makes me wonder why you do it when you already know that it’s going to hurt me. But you don’t really care, do you? No.

It’s soul-crushing, and I mean that honestly. I blame myself though, for thinking you might not do it this time; this time he’ll come through. But no.

I think we’re having 2 different relationships. Forgive me if I’m wrong (and yes I may only be 18, but I have been with you for 2 years now) but shouldn’t a relationship be part of your life? The main part, even? It is for me, and you know it is. For you though, I am what interests you when everything else that interests you doesn’t at that exact moment in time appeal to you. Like a doll that a little girl only picks up when it suits her.

Example: You will get home, make your cup of tea, turn on friends, wait for your cup of tea to cool down, drink it (all), and then (if your phone just so happens to be in your pocket so that you don’t have to get up) you’ll send me a message asking how I am. And that is the only programme you would text me during, because you know all the plot lines anyway. You wouldn’t text me during anything else. Not even in the adverts, just in case you got distracted when it came back on and you missed a little bit.

Now, I won’t just unzip my steely mouth into a pretty little smile so that you don’t have to ask me what’s wrong (when you fully know anyway). Now, I feel like letting you know (even when you already know I know that you know).

I'm making a conscious effort to treat you the way you treat me. Does it feel nice? Cos I'm really quite sick of feeling like a fool.

Tuesday, 17 October 2006

it can't come quuickly enough

Sailling through the tunnels, In the morning by yourself, There's a very special feeling, True sensation all is well, If you stand and reach your arms out wide, Close your eyes and try to fly, It's an underground illusion, Tricking you from side to side

We knew all the answers, And we shouted them like anthems, Anxious and suspicious, That God knew how much we cheated

It can't come quickly enough, And now you've spent your life, Waiting for this moment, And when you finally saw it come, It passed you by and left you so defeated

Skyscrapers rise between us, Keeping me from finding you, If the concrete architecture dissapeared there'd be so few of us left to navigate and defend ourselves from the tide, It's an underground illusion, Tricking you from side to side

There's no indication of What we were meant to be, Sucking up to strangers, Throwing wishes to the sea

It can't come quickly enough, And now you've spent your life, Waiting for this moment, And when you finally saw it come, It passed you by and left you so defeated

Sunday, 15 October 2006

kidnapped by carbon monoxide

It worries me that I'm back here.

Why is it that every now and then people simply lose control over their state of... being? Those moments frighten the life out of me - when it suddenly dawns on you that something rooted deep inside you has more control over you than your head does. Maybe your heart as well. And yet lately the longest it's been able to last for is half a day at the most. It's been so long now since it was a day in, day out battle of endurance that whenever it does come it's as though a black mist chases and engulfs me, and eventually suffocates me.

I never used to panic when it happened, but now I do. I know better now. It feels like a physical injury. It feels like my chest is caving in. It feels like my limbs have been drugged. It feels like I will never know what all the good feelings feel like anymore.

And then I become so tired and dream-like. As though I've been kidnapped by carbon monoxide. He sets himself to work at making me believe that this is what I'm destined to feel. And I'm so tired. And he makes it feel as though it would be pointless to try and snap out of it.

All that's left is for Stockholme Syndrome to set in and then I'll never want to leave this state of being. I'll believe that it's really everyone else who is on the outside. I'm right where I belong.

See? It's so, so easy to be pulled into it. You'd think there'd be an element of choice involved. I honestly don't know.

Friday, 28 July 2006

ink on a pin

I'm bored at work on a friday afternoon and everyone's gone home. It's times like these I think - How can I be sitting here staring at the buttons of my calculator when I could be doing something else? Anything else?

I'm the sort of person who takes class A drugs at 14, who works for a scholarship and then sits back and does no work for 2 years. I see a twenty one year olds soon after my fifteenth birthday and let him come and live with me and my parents. I take about a quarter of the school year off sick. I get good grades in the end, because it's me and things always just work out like that for me, but I know I can do better.

And then there's this whole different part of my life that started about a year and a half ago. Fancy meals and Cosmopolitans. Dresses and shoes, at last! Spur of the moment trips to Edinburgh. Someone who wants to show me off rather than hide indoors with me. Nights spent feeling so safe and warm and comfortable. Feeling as though I could quite easily lie with this person forever. One week in particular that can only be described as magical.

How did fate ever allow you enter my life?

I never knew feelings and emotions (other than bad ones) could sink so deep inside me. So deep they wouldn't even go away when I tried to make them. Like they're tattooed so deep they can never fade.

"Ink on a pin, Underneath your skin,
An empty space to fill in."

Sunday, 23 July 2006


For people to understand this entry I'll bring everything up to date:

Me and Adam are back together now and are happier than we've ever been together. Seriously! Looking back now I think the differences between two people only become a problem when you let them. Now, I'm so happy we're together that these differences (that are definitely still there) don't even run through my mind anymore. I just appreciate what we have.

What finally made me realise that none of those things mattered was when I thought about how much I loved him. That was never the issue between us, see. I never loved him less or more than before, it was just everything else around us that was the problem. I just couldn't see why we shouldn't be together when I knew how happy I could be with him when everything was alright.

So somehow, things have gotten even better than before from there. This is definitely the strongest I've ever felt about him. And it seems to keep growing somehow.

He left for Korea ten days ago. I thought I'd be miserable when he went but I'm actually doing fine. Not that I don't miss him, obviously, but in a way I'm happy he's there. Not many twenty one year olds get the chance to be asked to do what he's doing. And I suppose not many seventeen year old girlfriends get the chance to visit them in Korea for a month...