tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30753234979709004032024-03-08T08:05:04.497-08:00"It's just the way I smile"Sometimes you make me feel like I'm living at the edge of the worldMatch Box Collectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17510314648638353127noreply@blogger.comBlogger128125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075323497970900403.post-61034054564692389372008-01-04T03:56:00.000-08:002008-01-04T04:56:16.389-08:00atomsthere 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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.Match Box Collectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17510314648638353127noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075323497970900403.post-82146483337556791492007-01-23T06:11:00.000-08:002007-02-27T06:12:46.814-08:00she's lost itquite 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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />and what does that mean?<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />i can't stand irony.Match Box Collectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17510314648638353127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075323497970900403.post-87192834059996002882006-12-08T06:10:00.000-08:002007-02-27T06:11:28.515-08:00i'm really quite sick of feeling like a foolLately, 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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />That look on your face: so wounded! But only for your dad. Not for your mum. Never for your mum. Never for me either.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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).<br /><br />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.Match Box Collectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17510314648638353127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075323497970900403.post-52769453076185961042006-10-17T06:08:00.000-07:002007-02-27T06:10:44.315-08:00it can't come quuickly enoughSailling 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<br /><br />We knew all the answers, And we shouted them like anthems, Anxious and suspicious, That God knew how much we cheated<br /><br />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<br /><br />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<br /><br />There's no indication of What we were meant to be, Sucking up to strangers, Throwing wishes to the sea<br /><br />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 defeatedMatch Box Collectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17510314648638353127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075323497970900403.post-9757655157795571622006-10-15T06:07:00.000-07:002007-02-27T06:08:39.116-08:00kidnapped by carbon monoxideIt worries me that I'm back here.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.Match Box Collectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17510314648638353127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075323497970900403.post-67848040270678048362006-07-28T06:05:00.000-07:002007-02-27T06:06:33.074-08:00ink on a pinI'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?<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />How did fate ever allow you enter my life?<br /><br />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.<br /><br />"Ink on a pin, Underneath your skin,<br />An empty space to fill in."Match Box Collectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17510314648638353127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075323497970900403.post-14754898880921902692006-07-23T06:03:00.000-07:002007-02-27T06:04:52.566-08:00KoreaFor people to understand this entry I'll bring everything up to date:<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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...Match Box Collectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17510314648638353127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075323497970900403.post-14075112299728312332006-05-25T06:03:00.000-07:002007-02-27T06:03:34.798-08:001111. Someone who isn't the fucking tin manMatch Box Collectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17510314648638353127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075323497970900403.post-29268266699591542622006-05-18T06:00:00.000-07:002007-02-27T06:01:55.539-08:001010. Someone who can’t take their eyes off me. Everything else around them is a blur and all they can see is me. There’s a fiery glow around the edges of my body. They think I’m an angel.<br /><br />9. Someone who loves me so much they’d do anything to be with me. They’d drive 250 miles to spend 30 minutes with me, and then drive 250 miles back again. They’d spend any money they have to come and see me.<br /><br />8. Someone who thinks of me when they see or hear something. They’ll see a flower and bring it to me. They’ll send me a text message when they hear a song they know I like. They’ll buy me a packet of sweets because they think it’ll make me smile. Wherever they go without me they pick up souvenirs for me, like boxes of matches, and I know they were thinking about me.<br /><br />7. Someone who knows what I’ll say before I say it. They’ll see me looking at them and they’ll respond before I even speak. They’ll know when to ask if everything’s alright. They’ll know not to ask when I look at them a certain way<br /><br />6. Someone who knows what I’ll buy when I walk into a shop. They see an outfit and imagine me standing there in front of them, at the bar with a glass in my hand. They’ll know exactly how I want to feel in each outfit. They’ll know exactly how to talk to me.<br /><br />5. Someone who loves the way I never let my guard down. My cards always pressed tightly against my chest. It doesn’t matter to them. They can see through the cards, but they let me believe it’s all a secret anyway.<br /><br />4. Someone who can define every blink, every sigh, every touch, every smile. We can talk to each other in this way.<br /><br /> 3. Someone who is so amazed by the way we make love that they want part of us to stay connected all night. They sleep with their arms around me; their mouth in my hair; their heart beating against my back. In the morning I can feel him against me and I know. Warm, gentle love.<br /><br />2. Someone who wishes they didn’t think about things so far into the future. Wishes they didn’t see us being together forever. Wishes they didn’t want to wake up with me every morning now and for the rest of our lives. Someone who worries that they’re no match. Worries they’ll never make me as happy as someone else could.<br /><br />1. Someone who looks across a crowded room and sees me instantly. Who knows how beautiful I am from the other side of the room. Who thinks that no one could compare.<br /><br />With or without glasses.Match Box Collectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17510314648638353127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075323497970900403.post-40560498081436975262006-05-12T05:58:00.000-07:002007-02-27T06:00:21.293-08:00making loveSurely there's a point when there's just nothing left inside either party. And then where does the love come from?<br /><br />It's just sex. It feels like love and emotion but it's really just body parts that fit together nicely.<br /><br />And any two people can fit together for a night.<br /><br />I was naive to think that it should mean something.<br /><br />It doesn't.<br /><br /><br />My hands are tied<br />My body bruised, he's got me with<br />Nothing to win and<br />Nothing left to lose<br />And you give yourself away<br />And you give yourself away<br />And you give<br />And you give<br />And you give yourself away<br />With or without you<br />With or without you<br />I can't live<br />With or without youMatch Box Collectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17510314648638353127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075323497970900403.post-51424409108532479022006-05-07T05:55:00.000-07:002007-02-27T05:58:29.105-08:00acrobatYou've got to catch an early plane<br />And it's no surprise I'm standing still<br />Another minute more is all I need<br />I'll never have enough<br /><br />This room gets so cold in the winterW<br />hat will it take to heat this house?<br />I just want to feel comfortable<br />When there's only the two of us in my bed<br />My foot nearly brushes your leg<br />I can't draw it away<br />I can't push it forward<br />It lies stranded<br />It belongs to someone else<br /><br />We knew each other once<br />This can't be what you want<br />But you didn't have to demolish me<br /><br />I don't remember losing sight of your needs<br />I don't remember losing sight of your needs<br /><br />I am not an acrobat<br />I cannot perform these tricks for you<br />Losing all my balance<br />Falling from a wire made for you<br /><br />The sky is often used as a metaphor<br />I suppose it's because it's so big and expansive<br />When a long strand of cloud sits just above the horizon<br />Leaving a strip of clear blue beneath it<br />It becomes the panorama<br />And you turn your head 360 degrees<br />And the same line follows you round<br />If the land is sufficiently flat<br />Really nothing can be compared to it<br /><br />I don't remember losing sight of your needs<br />I don't remember losing sight of your needs<br />Your needs<br /><br />I am not an acrobat<br />I cannot perform these tricks for you<br />Losing all my balance<br />Falling from a wire made for you<br />I am not an acrobat<br />I cant perform these tricks for you<br />Losing all my balance<br />Falling from a wire made for youMatch Box Collectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17510314648638353127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075323497970900403.post-72677084341721032332006-05-02T05:52:00.000-07:002007-02-27T05:55:06.041-08:00if, don't, please, promiseIf you leave, don't leave now<br />Please don't take my heart away<br />Promise me just one more night<br />Then we'll go our separate ways<br />We've always had time on our sides<br />Now it's fading fast<br />Every second every moment<br />We've gotta make it last<br /><br />I touch you once<br />I touch you twice<br />I won't let go at any price<br />I need you now like I needed you then<br />You always said we'd still be friends, someday<br /><br />If you leave I won't cry<br />I won't waste a single day<br />But if you leave don't look back<br />I'll be running the other way<br />Seven years went under the bridge<br />Like time was standing still<br />Heaven knows what happens now<br />You've got to you gotta say you will<br /><br />I touch you once I touch you twice<br />I won't let go at any price<br />I need you now like I needed you then<br />You always said we'd meet again, someday<br /><br />I touch you once I touch you twice<br />I won't let go at any price<br />I need you now like I needed you then<br />You always said we'd still be friends<br /><br />I touch you once I touch you twice<br />I won't let go at any price<br />I need you now like I needed you then<br />You always said we'd meet again, someday<br /><br />If you leaveIf you leaveIf you leave<br />Don't look backDon't look backMatch Box Collectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17510314648638353127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075323497970900403.post-28249835012856852332006-05-01T05:50:00.000-07:002007-02-27T05:52:16.027-08:00bluest lighti don't really know what to say today...<br /><br />last night's hotel was scary. a sunflower inspired bedhead with green and brown bed sheets. there was a salvation army across the street. an itching sensation that lasted all night. there's a channel a bit like men & motors that plays english films on a night time. last night it was bad boys. saturday night it was you've got mail.<br /><br />saturday's hotel was a lot nicer. van der valk. white walls, blue furniture, white curtains, big white bathroom. a huge toucan stencilled onto the wall... i couldn't sleep that night. i kept waking up and noticing the blueness of the room.<br /><br />it made me think of berlin. that was one of my most vivid memories of that night. light from outside pouring in through the window and the mesh white curtains. falling on the white walls and the white sheets. falling on your skin. lighting up our faces. that's why i hate it when you turn off number 5.<br /><br />i'm constantly stopping myself from turning around and pointing to the pretty gardens by the canal. telling you how i prefer the dom to big ben. showing you how the mint smells in the herb garden.<br /><br />there's a peek & cloppenburg here. the coffee tastes like it did at that bakery near our hotel. there's a park just outside of the city calles julianapark. it's got a lake like the one in berlin.<br /><br />it all just makes me sad though.<br /><br />dutch people have big foreheads.Match Box Collectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17510314648638353127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075323497970900403.post-84838349705801510482006-04-28T05:49:00.000-07:002007-02-27T05:50:21.819-08:00tulipsi've felt so dizzy for the past couple of days. my head feels like it's swimming with doubts and concerns. my stomach feels the same way.<br /><br />a seventeen year old alone in amsterdam with a suitcase? i'm scared.<br /><br />i know this is the crazy thing i've wanted to do for months. uncertainty is to be expected, surely.<br /><br />i know i'll be safe. my 'insurance' will take care of me.<br /><br />i know i'll be happy. my 'insurance' would do anything for me. before i even ask.<br /><br />i really thought you would turn up tonight. i can't blame you for disappointment this time though, can i?<br /><br />When you said tulips<br />I knew that you were mine<br />When I caught you there<br />Crying in the night<br />Wearing my jacket<br />Wearing that smile<br />I knew that I'd found you<br />This could be an opportunity<br />Were you unawares?<br />Did it catch you out?<br />Or did it break you in<br />Right from the start?<br />It's as pure as fire<br />It's as pure as snow<br />I knew that I'd found you<br />This could be an opportunity<br />If you promise to let it grow<br /><br />'Cos you're the one I loveMatch Box Collectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17510314648638353127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075323497970900403.post-3627694321204096772006-04-26T05:47:00.000-07:002007-02-27T05:48:53.256-08:00Grey StreetRight now I feel like I can do anything. I can cut my hair and buy expensive clothes and walk out of my job and pack a suitcase and just get on a plane with a one way ticket.<br /><br />I feel gorgeous and strong, and I don't think I've ever felt like this before.<br /><br />I'm only seventeen for christ's sake. What do I need money for? What have I got to save for?<br /><br />A month ago, somehow, I thought I was with the person I'd spend the rest of my life with. Even though I felt so alone. More alone than now, even.<br /><br />I was struggling to hold myself together everytime he'd carelessly close his eyes and leave me alone lying next to him: another two and a half hours together, lost.<br /><br />When he'd get up on a saturday morning and go to work, leaving me alone in his parents house. By choice. What was I to think other than that money meant more to him than spending a day with me. And the investment? Of course... And then sometimes sunday too. I wonder now if it wasn't even about the money.<br /><br />I wouldn't have cared if things had been different. But they weren't. They were the only two days we had together. It made me question myself. Was I mad to want to spend time with my boyfriend?<br /><br />Clearly.<br /><br />When he took back sunday it broke my heart. Spending time with me was that painful. And then he told me saturday nights. No wonder I don't seem to spend any more time alone than before.<br /><br />How would you have felt, reader? Was I just sensitive? Maybe he was just ignorant. I don't think he does know what he's lost.Match Box Collectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17510314648638353127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075323497970900403.post-42868117264620106192006-04-24T05:45:00.000-07:002007-02-27T05:46:57.106-08:00bon voyage: i love youi went for a drive with my mum on saturday. i got such a mad dose of deja vu sitting next to her listening to cds that haven't been out of their cases for years.<br /><br />i remember when just the two of us used to drive down to wales to see my grandparents. i used to love having her all to myself and being able to sit in the front seat instead of my sister or my dad.<br /><br />i still got that same feeling i got way back then, before adam, before anthony, even before jordan. that feeling where i'd be practically squirming in my seat rehearsing the same sentence over and over in my head.<br /><br />but it never did come out. never will.<br /><br />we walked along a beach together and talked about amsterdam. i can't believe i could forget how much she wants me to be happy. she booked my flight for me and she found me somewhere to stay. she even wanted to come with me for the first few days.<br /><br />i leave on saturday morning.Match Box Collectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17510314648638353127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075323497970900403.post-58050590538901859392006-04-19T05:44:00.000-07:002007-02-27T05:45:36.396-08:00foolish loveWho knew what this would actually feel like? Certainly not me. It's been so long since I've been in this position. I don't like it.<br /><br />I can feel this unyielding crushing force in the centre of my chest. I know it's not completely due to him, but right now it's hard to pin it to anything else.<br /><br />I so badly want to ask him why he spent those last few days with me if he knew that ultimately he didn't want to be with me. But do I already know? Sometimes I wish it didn't play such a huge part in the relationship. Sometimes I think that's what ruined it.<br /><br />Being alone for the first time since I was thirteen has really opened my fucking eyes. I get so dependent on one person that everything else seems to disappear around me. Everything.<br /><br />Would I have hated my last few years at school so much if I hadn't always had someone over the age of twenty to mock it with? Would I have wanted money so badly if I'd been a normal teenager and didn't hang out at bars in Newcastle friday and saturday nights?<br /><br />Sometimes I hate what everything I've been exposed to has turned me into. This isn't who I wanted to be. Honestly.<br /><br />And now because I have absolutely nothing to bring joy to my life but bed and tv, my mind can't help but wander to the question:<br /><br />What exactly are you going to do with your life, Hannah?<br /><br />I don't want to hold you and feel so helpless<br />I don't want to smell you and lose my senses<br />And smile in slow motion<br />With eyes in love<br />I twist like a corkscrew<br />The sweetness rising<br />I drink from the bottle, weeping<br />Why won't you last?<br />Why can't you lastMatch Box Collectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17510314648638353127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075323497970900403.post-1021862194536795992006-04-04T05:43:00.000-07:002007-02-27T05:43:59.425-08:00sunday, bloody sundayisn't it strange how everything is never enough? i think i gave up figuring things out a long time ago. when all you get is words covering silence you know it's time to give up.<br /><br />sunday.Match Box Collectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17510314648638353127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075323497970900403.post-34473715951483209662006-03-04T05:40:00.000-08:002007-02-27T05:42:49.578-08:00seek solace in paracetamolA while ago my mum said something to me that almost made everything I find unexplainable about myself drop into place and become reasonable and rational for the first time. She said that sometimes she worries that my character is such as a result of the behaviour of my sister when we were children.<br /><br />She said that because my sister demanded so much attention, she thinks this caused me to be as reserved as I am. My mum spent so much time running after my sister when she was a toddler that she says I stopped crying quite early on. She said that at the time it was a Godsend having this silent baby, but now she looks back and feels tremendous guilt and regret.<br /><br />She told me how she remembers watching me grow up and noticing that I'd always keep things to myself. I always used to hide if I was upset and wait until I was alone before I'd start to cry. And by the time it had got to that point there would be so many things attributing to my sadness that it would all just come out in one huge fit. I remember my eyes would burn with red hot tears; the muscles in my neck would tense trying to dampen the sobs. My hand would be holding my head; fingers entwined with my hair. I'd sit there for hours sometimes, keeping as quite as possible.<br /><br />I still do it now - I did it just over an hour ago.<br /><br />I remember at the end of this conversation I had with my mum, she told me never to simply "put up and shut up". And although neither of us had mentioned it we both knew exactly what she meant.<br /><br />I've always found it so difficult to admit there's a problem with anything to anyone. It just keeps pushing me closer and closer to the edge until I really feel as though I'm actually going to lose it and live in a hospital for the next few years. I'm genuinely scared that soon I'll be laying down on a hospital bed talking about medication with a nurse.<br /><br />Last week I wanted to kill myself with paracetamols again. The 'reassuring' thing is, I know I could do it. Afterall I actually did it. And not only did I do it, but afterwards I still felt so determined to go through with it that I went to sleep without telling anyone what I'd done. I thought I was closing my eyes forever. All it was was the best night's sleep I ever had.<br /><br />When I come home on a sunday night (now to be saturday nights) after a 'break' at your house I climb the hundreds of stairs to my bedroom and I sit on my bed and I start to cry. Maybe it's for my sick mother, or my lonely sister in her house with no one to share it with. Perhaps it's for Anthony and all the love he wastes on me. Or for my Clueless Boyfriend. Or myabe it's for the realistion that I've done this for the past three years of my life.<br /><br />I hate being here in this house. I just want to escape its darkness and coldness and sickness and loneliness. I just want someone to take care of me.<br /><br />Why doesn't anyone notice that I'm cooking and cleaning and washing and supermarket shopping. I'm washing my mum's disappearing hair and sitting next to her during treatments. I'm only seventeen. Doesn't anyone understand that?<br /><br />I just want to fall asleep with my mum's arms around me. Telling me everything's OK and she can look after me now. But I can't even give her a hug. I don't know what's worse - feeling a huge space where there used to be my mother's breast or a cold and heavy gel implant.<br /><br />Sometimes it's like I think it's another person. I just wish my real mum would come back.<br /><br />I'm sorry for being so miserable. I wish you'd make it better but you won't.Match Box Collectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17510314648638353127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075323497970900403.post-10603392951677397242005-12-12T05:39:00.000-08:002007-02-27T05:40:15.850-08:00The Corner BoothYou hadn’t talked to your father in/Such a long time, he/Left the office early and came home/Late every night, your/Mother wore her mask so well, you couldn’t/See the pain, the guilt, you simply couldn’t tell that she was/Dying on the inside just/Like you never expected//<br /><br />I let them try to change you into ex-/Actly what you weren’t and you/Stood up for yourself, how brave, what a/Man that makes you, you’re/So non-conformal, so unique, you’re so de-/Termined and yet so raw, can’t you see/That this e-motion is one/Hundred percent for real//<br /><br />You talk of my ex-boyfriend so much, lets talk about/Your ex just for once, yes I/Know that she felt neglected, I can/Understand that, she/Felt as though you looked right through her, like she/Never existed in your eyes, you/Never treated her like some-/One you were supposed to love//<br /><br />I used your love as an excuse to/Shut myself off, I didn’t/Want to share your love with the whole world so I/Kept it to myself, I/Am aware of how I can be, aware of/My complete disregard for your feelings, don’t/Lecture me on how to be/A better person//<br /><br />You with your piercing stare, me with my/Long dark hair, what an odd pair we must’ve/Looked to that frail old couple, do you re-/Member that old roadside diner, you/Ordered us pancakes with syrup and some/Black coffee, we talked in such detail about your/Life, your parents, your mother, I/Know you miss her dearly//<br /><br />And so the subject always came back to/Me and my treacherous past, you must’ve/Had so much fun flicking through those painful/Moments in my life, you/Used your position to make me feel weak in your/Cold stare, you pinned me down like a/Butterfly, wings flapping, eyes wide open/Begging for your mercy//<br /><br />Perhaps just a few more seconds in that/Godforsaken room and I would’ve/Lost my mind completely, like some kind of/Lunatic, your tone of/Voice made the situation somewhat clearer to my/Inexperienced self, God do I re-/Member the look on your face once you/Realised what you’d done//<br /><br />You’re the professional psychoanalyst, tell me/What the hell is wrong with me, am I/Too far gone to return to the/Life I lived before any of this, but then/How can I expect to be cured when I/Don’t even want to be, I just/Want some kind of re-lease from this/Feeling you force upon me//<br /><br />Does it bother you that I first loved you because/You were the father that I needed so/Desperately, after all you were so very/Caring and nurturing, but then once/I had confessed my darkest secrets to you/Turned into the monster that I left be-/Hind, I don’t think you’ll ever know how/Sorry I am for that//<br /><br />If you never wanted to see me again, you wouldn’t/Be sitting here right now, I know we/Said so many things we regret, or at-/Least I know I did, you/Loved to make me feel about as/Wanted as a broken toy, you were the/Five-year-old with the tendency to/Break all of your own rules//<br /><br />Can you believe that it never even/Crossed my mind that you were with someone/Else when you were with me, how/Naïve is that? I mean/Why would a successful businessman/Such as yourself be interested/In someone like me, I couldn’t/Even use my knife and fork right//<br /><br /><br />It didn’t take long for you to change me into the/Exact opposite of what I/Was before I met you, my/Personality went through such an a-/Mazing transformation, you taught me how to/Be assertive and still possess the little/Girl charm that you said I would/ Never lose no matter what//Match Box Collectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17510314648638353127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075323497970900403.post-53696815564582859242005-12-05T05:36:00.000-08:002007-02-27T05:39:00.149-08:00bitter? nahi spent the weekend at adam's. he was so different somehow. well, i know exactly how. he was being so affectionate at times. not all the time. saying nice things and making gestures like moving hair out of my face holding onto me like i was sand slipping through his fingers. but if it's not natural then it's not real, is it?<br /><br />is it?<br /><br />i can't look at him. i can't let him see me. and i don't know why. every time i open my eyes my heart jumps when i see him staring right back. but he's my boyfriend. what's wrong with me?<br /><br />we were in a club last night and we met up with some friends. his, obviously. when i'm sitting talking with them i feel as though i'm dragging the mood of everyone in the building down with me. i've got a smile plastered on my face for the entire duration of the conversation and i laugh in perfect timing over and over. i change my expression now and then; the smile remaining though. if it starts to hurt i go for a toilet break and the second i'm out of sight i'm some miserable looking girl walking up the stairs.<br /><br />what the fuck could possibly be so wrong with her?<br /><br />i practice some smiles and angles in the mirror while putting on some red lipstick. and i look into my own eyes and wonder how he can't see it when it's right in front of his face every time i look at him. then it's back down the stairs and on with the smile.<br /><br />he's bored standing with me by the fire exit so i tell him he can go and play with his friends if he likes. while i sit at the back of the club on a chair by myself i try and find him on the dance floor, but i can't. even after forty five minutes i can't. i start wondering why he gets so bored with me all the time. he's the only person i really talk to now. he's basically my only friend now. and i bore him.<br /><br />while i was looking for him on the dance floor i suddenly thought: he'd be better off single. and he would. i don't understand why i'm so miserable with him? it actually aches somewhere in my chest when i think about us. and i wish i knew why.<br /><br />he dropped me off at the train station at ten past eight tonight. i had more than twenty minutes to wait for my train. he got my bag out of the boot and we said goodbye. i started crying before i was even inside. would it have been so difficult to have parked the car just ten metres away and have seen me onto my train? what was the rush to get me out of your house so fast? fucking top gear?<br /><br />i hate sounding like this. i roll my eyes at people who go on like this. but it's little stupid blows and disappointments like this that bring me right down to the ground all the time. if he actually felt the way he acted (some of the time) this weekend then he wouldn't have said he wasn't going to fall asleep on me on friday - and then fall asleep on me on friday. he wouldn't have left me sitting alone on that stool watching the dance floor for forty five minutes on saturday. he wouldn't have left me downstairs watching tv in his living room on sunday afternoon while he sat at his computer browsing for car parts and opening his weekly newsletter. he wouldn't have fallen asleep for the last hour and a half we had together before he took me to the station, leaving me wide awake on the edge of his bed watching the never ending fucking story on tv. he wouldn't have put me on the 8:31 train home.<br /><br />i don't believe the nice things you say to me. you don't make them sound real. like you don't even believe them yourself. what proportion of the feelings that prompted you to say you loved me the first time came from lust?<br /><br />that night in Berlin happened because of what you told me about the party you went to. while you were on your way to that party i was on my way home from hospital. i got scared. i thought i was going to lose you soon.<br /><br />do you hate me now?Match Box Collectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17510314648638353127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075323497970900403.post-25111413027047750352005-11-16T05:35:00.000-08:002007-02-27T05:36:12.011-08:00marmite"are you happy?" he asks, his mouth against the back of her neck. she feels relieved she doesn't have to look at him, and focuses on the wall instead.<br /><br />"yes," she replies. "you need to buy some more marmite."<br /><br />he rolls away from her and onto his back.<br /><br />she doesn't move. she already knows she's good at deflecting questions.Match Box Collectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17510314648638353127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075323497970900403.post-38496457495565380602005-10-31T05:31:00.000-08:002007-02-27T05:35:31.554-08:00seventeen year old wrinklesi know, tut tut, when the fuck was my last entry...<br /><br />i spent the whole weekend with adam again. it used to be exciting getting on trains and catching metros and meeting him at the station and everything. now i think maybe i'm getting a little tired of the 2 hour trek every friday. especially when i know that his car's sitting on his driveway all nice and clean and polished. am i writing this because i know that he'll read it?<br /><br />we argued quite a bit this weekend. i remember when we used to talk about how we never argued. hmmm. before i go any further i'd like to point out that i'm not really being fair, seen as though i had nothing to write on here when everything was hunkydory. and now because it's not i'm having a bitch. <br /><br />oh well. anyway...<br /><br />anyone who's read this for long enough probably already knows that i'm fucked up. or do i just pretend i'm fucked up because i'm boring as fuck? sometimes i don't even know why i go quiet and cold when i'm with him. it's usually when i've seen something or heard something or thought about something that requires a bit more thinking than usual. that doesn't even make sense. basically, when my train of thought crashes head-on into something significant.<br /><br />like my future. what the fuck is going on with me at the moment? sixth form drop-out? seriously hannah, what the fuck? another time.<br /><br />my mother. anyone who's got a mum who's always had big boobs will understand that when one gets taken away it's as though that feeling of safety they gave you when you were a kid is ripped away from you. later, to be replaced with a silicon implant. it's hard to act big and brave when you're spoon feeding your morpheine-fuelled mum jelly in a hospital. or when you're scrubbing her blood out of a carpet. nuff said.<br /><br />my social life. because i'm seventeen and shallow. i'd be lying if i said that in the past few years i''ve felt like a normal teenage girl. or am i just pretending i'm not? i find it really difficult to hold a conversation with someone my own age. i find myself literally taking a step back. literally sitting in the nearest corner. finding that try as i might, i just can't seem to get a word in half the time. as though i'm physically incompetent in conversing with a seventeen year old.<br /><br />to be honest i'm lonely. i don't feel like i'm living anymore. today, i feel as though the only person who can make me feel valid simply 'doesn't give a fuck'. and doesn't care that he 'doesn't give a fuck' either. i don't want to be a corner shop: there for your convenience. and yet i jump before he even gets his hand out of his pocket to click his fingers.<br /><br />when we're driving in his car i look at my reflection and wonder why the fuck i've got a smile on my face. it's there all the time like a fucking tattoo. giving me wrinkles at seventeen. when he falls asleep next to me i feel so unbelievably lost. as though he knows i'm floating around in space and is too tired to care.<br /><br />things can be so perfect for an hour or two. i'm all that he thinks about and nothing distracts him. i'm beautiful and amazing. i can feel him loving me. i put my arms around him and i feel like i'm actually connected to him somehow.<br /><br />and then he gets up and puts his clothes back on and walks away from me.<br /><br />i know what the consequences of you're reading this will be.Match Box Collectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17510314648638353127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075323497970900403.post-34562610066984155592005-06-27T05:28:00.000-07:002007-02-27T05:31:05.103-08:00the circusbeen two weeks since i moved into my new house now. it sucks that i don't see adam during the week anymore. when we do see each other it's so much better now though.<br /><br />anthony contacted me on monday. i let him talk and waited to hang up. he's called out a mental health worker for his mother. i know what she's like - she's got severe paranoia, but she's harmless.<br /><br />i just smile and nod when she talks about the people who come and inject fat into her thighs and the cameras on her eyes and the people who come and steal from her in the night.<br /><br />she ties her windows and doors shut with rags and super glue. if that's what makes her feel safe then why not just let her get on with it? but no. anthony knows best.<br /><br />on wednesday adam came down to my new house and we went for a meal at this carribean restaurant called ochis. then we went to the circus and drank a bottle of red wine. we've got this way of talking about feelings without mentioning them. it's strange. confusing too. when the converstion ends he seems satisfied and i'm left puzzled.<br /><br />i wouldn't change him for the world. not a thing. i really want to take things further. i know it'll be so special. like he is.Match Box Collectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17510314648638353127noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075323497970900403.post-56809738235947149102005-06-15T05:25:00.000-07:002007-02-27T05:28:43.840-08:00moving oni'm guessing it's wrong that while sitting on my patio step having my last cigarette in my old house, all i could think of were the memories of anthony and i. it made me very sad.<br /><br />the primary one was of the new year just gone, when i sat in the very same place, smoking the same brand of cigarettes, crying uncontrollably. that was meant to be mine and anthony's anniversary of the night we met. we didn't quite get there though. ironically, he was with alison that night instead.<br /><br />i phoned him. we talked for hours. he got out of prison on his birthday. he's on sick leave again with more pills for his depression. him and victoria are over. she said she couldn't cope with his shit anymore. i sympathise with her.<br /><br />if he'd just sort himself out he wouldn't be such a loser. cos that's what he's turned into. should i feel guilty that this happened to him while he was with me? oh well. oops.<br /><br />and there's adam. i don't ever want to do anything to hurt him. i care about him too much to jeopardise what i've got with him. it's too special. he is too special.<br /><br />i said goodbye to anthony knowing very well i'd never ring him again and i'd never make an effort to see him. i won't tell him my new address.<br /><br />i'm sick of this lingering feeling when i know that all i really want is to be with adam.Match Box Collectionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17510314648638353127noreply@blogger.com0