I’m sitting at my desk, wondering what you’re thinking right now.

You spoke of fear, that I’m too dependent.

Truth be told, it’s frightened me right from the start, that’s the reason the concept of love petrifies me.

Love is about emotional dependency. All my life, I’ve learnt through unfortunate events of my own, that you can’t depend on anyone else for happiness and love.

Feelings fade, people end sad stories and make new beginnings, for better or for worse.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that because I know where we stand, that I know I won’t call you my own, the fear is pushed aside.

I can love you fully.

And I do.

Even knowing that in the end you’ll break my heart, I understand that this was never your intent and you’d change it if you could. You’re wonderful, even when it hurts.

Every asset to your personality, I’m in love with.

You’re the dream guy, the one in a million, the piece that fits.

And it kills me to know that you’re not a permanent feature in my life, but I love that I can know what it feels like to have what I’ve got now.

It’s such a dream.

The way I feel, the way you drive me wild, the way I get so happy that you love me too... it makes me laugh aloud with happiness.

I really believe you’ve got no idea the extent to which I feel for you.

I’ve never known a love like this.

Love for a child is family love.

I sort of class friends and lovers in the same category, because you choose them, there is no blood bond.

But you... it’s different again. You’re in a class of your own.

I swear, on my life, that I won’t ever forget what we’ve got now.

You are monumental.

Absolutely unforgettable.

I love you.

Bad Translations.

I’ve never hated goodbyes more than I hate saying goodbye to you.

The instant the door closes shut, and I hear you leave the stairs, my heart sinks.

I miss you, and I hate that you have to leave.

I don’t want to be bitter, but for the first time in my life I’ve put my own desires first.

And it doesn’t help.

I love YOU, just you.

How does it feel to lead two lives?

Because leading half a life is making me dizzy.

Remember being young, and getting dizzy was fun?

You, you make me feel alive.

And when this ends, I don’t want to think about how I’ll feel.

I’m sitting here, trying to make sense of this, so you can understand.

Nothing unsaid.

My thoughts are cryptic.

I can’t translate this.

What the hell is the point anyway? Your heart is set and it’s not on me.

Lyrics.  A just fragment of someone else’s meaning.

They capture the speech of my heart.

“And the seas would part and they'd part for you
I'd run anywhere to join you on a path for two and I
I don't wanna contemplate what I might do
And if I lose you I'll find you, I will find you

Stop the clocks I'll walk away
Cos we've got something untamed
If what's beneath falls through
Then I'll fall, but I'll fall with you “

The Clocks – Uthboy.

“Last night I dreamt I held you with me,
Close enough to feel you breathe,
When i awoke I lay here empty,
Caught between the want and need,

Now in the darkness I am only,
Thoughtful hopes and pieces mind,
These dreams are all I've ever wanted,
Found behind the closing eyes,

How long we've been trying to reach you,
We all fall down like this sometimes,
Trying to reach you,
I'm trying,”

Reach – The Butterfly Effect.

“Happiness feels a lot like sorrow 
Let it be, you can't make it come or go 
But you are gone- not for good but for now 
Gone for now feels a lot like gone for good 

Happiness is a firecracker sitting on my headboard 
Happiness was never mine to hold 
Careful child, light the fuse and get away 
‘Cause happiness throws a shower of sparks 

Happiness damn near destroys you 
Breaks your faith to pieces on the floor 
So you tell yourself, that's enough for now 
Happiness has a violent roar “

Happiness – The Fray.

“I dont mind where you come from 
As long as you come to me
But I dont like illusions I cant see
Them clearly
I dont care, no I wouldn't dare 
To fix the twist in you
You've shown me eventually what you'll do
I dont mind
I dont care
As long as you're here”

All The Same – The Sick Puppies.

“Well you know I hardly speak.
When I do it's just for you. 
I haven't said a word in weeks
'Cause they've been keeping me from you.

There's a way where there's a will.
You know I got no need for stairs.
Step out on the window sill,
Fall with me into the air. 

So, here we go. 
Hold on tight and don't let go. 
I won't ever let you fall. 
I love the night.
Flying o'er these city lights. 
But I love you most of all. “

A Song For Milly Michaelson – Thrice.

“I feel that when I'm old
I'll look at you and know
The world was beautiful

Then you tell me...
You say that love goes anywhere
In your darkest time, it's just enough to know it's there
When you go, I'll let you be
But you're killing everything in me

I'm done, there's nothing left to show
I try but can't let it go
Are you happy where you're standing still?
Do you really want the sugar pill?
I'll wake up tomorrow and I'll start
Tonight it feels so hard
As the train approaches Gare Du Nord
As I'm sure your kiss remains employed
Am I only dreaming?”

Polaris – Jimmy Eat World.

“Too much is not enough 
Nobody gave it up 
I’m not the kind 
To lay down and die 

Adrenaline 
keeps me in the game 
Adrenaline 
you don't even feel the pain 
Wilder than your wildest dreams 
When you're going to extremes 
It takes adrenaline 

Adrenaline 
Screaming out your name 
Adrenaline 
you don't even feel the pain 
Wilder than your wildest dreams 
When you're going to extremes “

Adrenaline – Bush.

“What you wanna say, 
Wait until you get home. 
I'm sick of communicating now over the telephone. 
Tell me how you feel, 
For I am lonely too 
Need you to know 
I'm just as cold and numb as you. 

But I could fly away, 
Or I could be no one. 
And you could be the 
Sunshine falling over the mountain

You could come to stay 
Yes you could come right home 
I don't see why I have to 
Live this life all alone. 

I know there is a way to make up for mistakes 
I know what's happening is for a reason.”

What You Want – John Butler Trio.

“And I wonder 
When I sing along with you 
If everything could ever feel this real forever 
If anything could ever be this good again 

The only thing I'll ever ask of you 
You've got to promise not to stop when I say when 
She sang “

Everlong – The Foo Fighters (All time favourite song.)

And finally. The song I saw live that changed a lot of things for me a couple of weeks ago.

“All my bones are dust
And my heart sealed with rust
These hands will always be rough
I know this won't count for much
(two people too damaged too much too late)

I'm not saying she's my last
I'm just saying that she could have been
It doesn't matter how rough these hands get
It doesn't matter 'cause I'm not her man”

Rough Hands – Alexisonfire.

I lay here in my bed, so far from rest. You'll be fast asleep any moment now.
The rain outside has been falling for hours now. It toys with my emotions much like the way a beautiful piece of classical cello brings a tear to my eye. Without explanation or hesitation.
I reflect. Hindsight is the only real 20-20 vision. 
History is just that, and it's out of my hands.
It's too late, far too late, to ask questions of the dead. And the living hold knowledge of no relevance to my inquisitries.
I sat on my back steps today, waiting for the birds to feed. And they'd forgotten me. Months have passed, but I wondered if they'd remember. 
I can't say I blame them, if they left for a year I'd most likely forget them.
I do miss them though. Birds of a feather.
My puppy sleeps between the pillows beside me, safe and secure. He makes a neat little curvy shape when he tucks his feet in and his nose hidden in his lap.
Circles. Life seems to have an excess. I'm overcome with dizziness on occasion. Waiting for the cycle to break, searching an exit on this never ending roundabout.
Direction. My internal tomtom has a flat battery and I'm flying blind. Trying desperately to find a road to get me where I want to go. If only I knew where I wanted to go. I only know where I've been.
My eyes grow heavy. 
It's funny the way I start every piece of writing as if it's to you, when really, it's for me.
I guess, I just want you to want to know me. 
Even my hand written pieces are written to you.
I've never had someone hold such an influence on me.
<3

Broken.

In that moment, I felt emotion involved in this state of affairs in it’s entirety.

It pushed the breath clean from my chest,

The intensity of the instant made my heart race, my face flush, my stomach churn.

I know what this is now.

What I have for him.

This isn’t nothing.

And if in the end, that’s what you choose it to be,

Then I hope you always remember it as a mistake.

This is your call, but if I could let you see what I do, through my eyes,

Maybe you wouldn’t suffer so blindly.

If I could lay your hand across my heart and let you feel as I do,

Maybe you’d run in fear, maybe you’d never leave.

It terrifies me.

Never in my life have I felt so safe and secure,

I’ve not known trust like this,

Ever.

A connection so strong between two fresh friends,

Is unusual, perhaps, serendipitous.

I doubt I’ll ever leave this behind, even if you choose to.

A part of this feeling will always be there,

Like a candle you just can’t dim.

The more I try to put the brakes on this infatuation

The more I realise it’s a futile attempt.

I am falling.

And although I wouldn’t admit it to you,

You’re the one who can catch me.

But maybe it’s me who has to cut the cord, and leave us both in peril.

Because I don’t think you’ve got the strength to save me from this fall.
But I know I don't have the strength at this point to recover either.
Hesitation.
Panic.
Flee.

Tomorrow they scan my brain for tumours and brain disease.
I'm going on my own, because there's nobody left to trust that I'll share my fear with.
Strength? Can't suffocate this fear before it suffocates me.
I don't want to ever leave Orion [motherless]. It's a painful burden to grow through.
In 21 days it'll have been 6 long years since my mum died from cancer.

Yellow.
A happy colour.
The colour I wore to her funeral,
The colour of her favorite roses (as are mine)
A theme for the cancer council,
A song by coldplay,
The colour of her eyes before she died,

I digress,
I avoid the fear, but it still strangles me inside, making it hard to breathe. My hands shake and my eyes, they cry.
What am I REALLY afraid of?
My past strangling my future.
Move on,
It's the past.
But you can't forget what created you.
Sequential tragic events shaped who I am now,
And I'm falling asleep now.

She died childless [Unfinished.]

[This is a piece, with really bad rhythm, from a man's perspective, after his wife has committed suicide because she left it too late to have children. Sad story. But I'm writin' it anyway! VERY VERY rough and incomplete.]



Sitting alone in the same booth of the waffle house where you first laid eyes on me.
I’d say I’ve made a complete revolution,
But this was no act of symmetry.
9 hours, 11 stops, a box and a half of tissues.
I still can’t bring you back to me.

The icy, glacial wind pushed you inside that magical winter’s day,
Outside a homeless man was still convinced the end was nigh,
But the beginning was only just underway.
The same doorbell still rings high.
My whole world is in decay.

A brief hello, a few more waffles and we sat and watched the fast lane,
Everyone had sex, raised children and built houses as the years went along,
But we made love and flushed our babies down the drain.
Just us - reproduction seemed wrong.
I just want to see your face again.

A late evening.

she sits on her bed, the floor scattered with candles. Her face is lit in warm tones, but shining with tears. Her heart feels cold because it pines for the warmth of a person long-passed.
Photos are scattered around her. Old photos, of a time she cannot remember but only create. There is nobody to recount. No more bedtime stories.
The soundtrack is a single song with violins. And keyboard. A shaky female vocal with subtle percussion and a powerful ambience. She wept.

Nobody sees her weakness. She hides it well. Her stormy eyes are the clue to discover her past. She's got a rigid positive attitude and a convincing smile.
They're all too wrapped up in their own romances to notice she's drowning in wine and solitude, and melted wax. Flying blind without guidance or support, she meanders emotionally bedraggled through the chapters of her life.

She's got the self hatred of a guilty man on the run. Thoughts linger in her mind, truly, she doesn't want this a minute longer. What's a life if you fake happiness out of habit?

Next to her head at the top of the bed where she seldom sleeps, there's written in small pencil, "time heals, you just have to wait".
She hates waiting. Life pours salt in the wound.



[word vomit, I think I've got an articulate strand of food poisoning tonight. Sleep is for the week that were created by it's initial neglect.]

I realized,
I'm the girl you never thought I was. More than you'll ever realise.
I'm probably already gone, but there's no harm in trying.
Maybe I'll realise I missed out too.

X.

Intimate.

What's it like?
It's like... The instant when you taste the summers first perfect mango. The taste breeds through your salivating mouth like ink through water. But it's like a feeling, manifested into a tiny, tiny space, that controls your every movement.
Like fireworks are set off. All you can do is squirm. And every part of your body goes to extremes. You heave for breath (if you breathe at all) and your heart races faster than it ever should, sometiEs I wonder if it just becomes 'one' really long beat, it drums away so fast.
Hands sweaty, skin clammy, like a fever, but more invigorating.
I wonder what it's like for you.

“Then take me disappearin’ through the smoke rings of my mind
Down the foggy ruins of time, far past the frozen leaves
The haunted, frightened trees, out to the windy beach
Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow
Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free
Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands
With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves
Let me forget about today until tomorrow”

She meandered across the empty sea-side carpark in the dark with her wine bottle in hand, the edges of her sillouette glowed against the moon. The sound of her abrupt laughter made me jump a little, the sound was harsh but not terrible, it just filled the empty space so suddenly without any warning.

“What was so funny?” I mused, more to myself than to her. I suspected the sound of the ocean would muffle my inquiry too greatly in any case.

“You’d never guess, and I’ll never tell” she said it with such a smile that I could hear it in her voice.

She’d paused at the top of the stairs that led down to the sand. Looking up, her toes were over the lip of the top step. Her dress flattened around her figure as the wind blew in from the ocean, and the flowing fabric danced in the darkness behind her. I approached her quietly, but I could sense that she knew I was there. She didn’t falter though. Her eyes were fixed on the universe above us. Her face seemed pale, but her eyes were alight with life, her breathing was soft, the aroma of the red wine mingled with the salt air.

She was beautiful. She was beautifully allusive.

She looked at me, and smiled. Her teeth were straight and her skin was clear. She had a simple face. She turned away before I could smile back, and she rushed down the stairs.

[...Unfinished]

"It's like a man's best party only happens when he dies"

Humans are cruel.

Humans are stupid.

Every development we seem to make, every glorious step forward is going to be our children's children's children's demise.

We are going to commit self-genocide.

Can't figure out what I'm trying to say.

My little star, my whole constellation, my little brave hunter.

He's so breathtaking when he sleeps. So still, just his chest rising and falling to his own rhythm. So innocent, I don't know that he's not having a nightmare, but at a guess, I'd say he wasn't. Skin so soft and smooth, he seems so healthy.

A fox called Pablo.

A dream so bizarre, forgotten instantly on wake.

Why do our minds torment us so?

This is the life we lead. No greater power has decided this for us, we determine our own path. Every decision you make is vital.

My life is gaining direction and momentum. But I'm lacking motivation.

[Writer's block is a bitch]

13, 14, 15 [November too-thows-and-and-nien.]

I’ve been walking for days.
My mind will not sleep.
My body will not rest.
My determination is ever-long.
I’m going to figure out what it is I’m solving.
There’s a constant dialogue in my head.
I’ve taken a journey to many places in a small space.
Elevators, cradle-sides, dance floors, taxi-cabs, 37th floors, parks and verandas, boardwalks, bedsides, buses, DJ booths, beds 5 cushions high, waterfalls, supermarkets and 4am foreign football games.
All I’ve done is reflect.
Am I walking in circles?
No. I’ve not been here before.
I’ve met new friends.
I’ve mulled over current issues with old friends.
And never the question which is the answer has become clear.
Standing at the river’s edge, I wrote...
“If I cross this body of water, will you promise me you wont try this at home?
I stand here wondering why I just wouldn’t care if I made it to the other side or not.
I know why.
There are women walking past me with paid men holding their umbrellas as they stroll.
They might call that living, but they don’t live.
They simply survive.
I have never ever stopped living.
I never want to be that woman.
Die trying, or die a coward.
I feel like going for a swim. At least I know I’d be doing it for myself.
If I cross this body of water, will you promise me you wont try this at home?”


I am learning.
And for now, that is what I'm best at.

A side-note.

Most of the entries in here are just thoughts, stream of consciousness, but I posted them, mostly unedited too.

A lot are just trying to capture a personality, most of them sad apparently.

But I suppose that's a lot to do with things being fairly shithouse for me lately!

I'm not as negative as these blogs might perceive me to be, promise.

There's a lot to be learnt from re-reading something written in a fit of anger or upset.

Enjoy.

The same thing I think with every new Interest. Such is love I guess?

There’s a lot to be found in the translations of our conversations.

Hours pass and nothing profound is said, but instead suggested.

I’ve dreamt about you finding out about these thoughts I have.

I can’t quite figure out the way my heart races, and my eyes smile,

Does this mean something so significant?

There’s something about you,

That makes me feel more alive than almost anyone I know.

There’s something about you,

That makes my entire face smile, eye to eye, ear to ear.

You make me look like an ascii face ^_^

I sit trying to figure out how I feel about you.

And no conclusion arises. But I’m content.

Just to sit and contemplate you.

I’m happy just to think of you,

I know exactly what it is I feel.

And it’s stronger than either of us would care to acknowledge I suspect.

The way I over-analyse every time you don’t reply with your normal quit wit.

The way my stomach flips.

You make me feel sea-sick.

A Funeral.

And so here I was, at 25, sitting second row deep at my best friend Sophie’s largest party to date.

When someone dies, people always speak of ‘something missing’ in their lives. Nothing is missing. Death is like moving house. It is simply that someone has moved, to a new, dark and very much smaller house, where nobody visits and nobody can communicate. Really, it wouldn’t make much difference to the people at this party, except that now they felt guilty for treating her like she’d already moved house while she was still alive. These people were trying to fill their missing spaces with self-forgiveness. Of course it’s not their fault that they didn’t take 5 minutes a month to call her and say something appreciative. They didn’t have time between work and their babies, their box set DVDs and shopping for a new dining table. “Nobody can be blamed for her death, it was a tragedy” they’ll say later, while they stare into their wine and Pride and the Prejudice DVDs dimly light a room with a new dining table and the TV cabinet they bought, reassuring themselves that “Sophie would have loved it”. They were here because they needed self re-assurance. There was no true compassion. This death was their fault.

Sophie had come home from work that Friday, her last column written and handed to the boss. She drank a glass and a half of wine, the lipstick on the rim was her last mark of self-enjoyment left for anyone to find. Then she’d hung her clothes.

But Sophie never got undressed.

Life as we're ignoring it?

They said to me, you’ll never get anywhere in life with an attitude like that.

And you know what I thought? I thought to myself, well I don’t really care, if I’m cruisy and happy, then what does it matter what you think? Truth be told, what you think, matters a lot. If every single person was ultimately as selfish as everyone suggests we should be, and as selfless as the rest say we should be, then we’d all be still in bed, alone, having complexes while the person lying next to us did the same. Occasional sex, sure, but nothing that meant anything.

There is no formula

There is no universal way to live

It’s all

Impromptu.

Rehearse all you want, think out, plan out, it wont go the way you want.

It’ll go it’s own way.

She.

She’s gone.

Far from here.

And there’s nothing I can do about it. It leaves me writhing in pain sometimes. Crying and weeping until all hours of the morning, sprawled across a bed far too large to leave a person of my size feeling anything but alone in this world.

She’s not here anymore. She’s never coming back. Never coming back.

Sometimes it hits harder than other times.

Sometimes I don’t feel a thing.

But I always tell myself. Remind myself.

She’s not ever coming back to me.

I am the key to my own guidance, a follower of the darkness, there is no light to guide me.

Just my own night vision to see with.

Behind me follows my own creation, the one who depends on me.

Nightmare at the RCH (An actual Nightmare)

As if I were looking down upon him from above, as if for some reason there was a heaven and I'd made it there, I saw it all.

She spiked the anti-biotics, hung them on the pole, the infusion began and he was fine.

15 minutes later, a rash around his throat. He was unsettled, but nobody was there to notice, no machines to let them know, it wasn't unusual for him to dispise being alone.

It spread across his chest and he began to wheeze a little, he laid his face down in his pillow and screamed, heaving for more air in his lungs, he needed help. He needed someone to notice he was in trouble, but nobody was there.

Where was I? Why could I not know where I was? I was helpless. I wasn't there.

His throat was tightening, his reaction becoming more and more severe, he needed help urgently. But nobody came, soon his wheeze became simply a squeak, and died to nothing, he laid, eyes open and blood-shot a few inches below his pillow in the iron-cradle that had now become the place in which he drew his last breath.

And I wasn't there. Nobody was.

The nurse found him on an obs round, the poor woman. He was just becoming cold, she let out a scream, hit the nurse call button, and another 4 young women also encountered their first dead 17-month-old.

He had cancer, but he died from an allergic reaction to medicine to treat a fever.

How fucked.

Miss Supermarket Love-Less (Unfinished)

Miss Supermarket Love-less.

Baby I’ve got to tell you, there’s a secret I’ve held onto,

For all this romance and fancy dancing we’ve got going on,

Please don’t think that I love you any less than I did before,

But there’s someone else.

I swear to you, our meetings are brief,

There’s scarce weight given to any words spoken between us,

But every time I buy bread and milk, it’s love.

We share awkward eye contact every time I buy groceries,

The same groceries I serve for you me and baby.

And yet every time you and I are together,

It’s as if they don’t exist, all a different world to here.

Him - Them - In no order. (This note is not yet rated)

You.

You mean not what you say.

You never meant a word.

Trust does not exist here.

We are not what we thought.

We have nothing except denial.

You will enjoy what you have, not what takes effort.

You wont enjoy what you didn’t have to begin with.

You, are truly not worth my time.

You.

You are someone I miss dearly.

You are probably more like me than anyone I know.

You are my blood.

You are my best friend, my brother,

You understand me.

I love you.

You are so, so special to me.

You.

You are the one who’s hands the rest of my life lies in.

Your hands are going to save, or steal my son’s breath.

You are paid to shape lives, to save and to create them.

You are so powerful.

I do not know you to be different to any other man,

You have a label, and so I trust.

You, have a lot on your shoulders.

You.

You left me with thumbprints on my ass and a bad taste in my mouth.

You play the game. Like chess with your own secret rules.

You’re scared of restriction. But I think you’re lonelier than anyone I know.

I could hear it in your voice when you spoke of memories created years ago.

You say things and never follow through.

You lie, and apparently you cheat too.

You’re a charmer. And I thought I could tolerate it.

I’ve access to better than this.

You, can go and hump someone else’s leg.

You.

You attatched too fast.

You give me the creeps.

You barely know me. .

You’ve planned our life together and all I want is for you to stop talking.

You just don’t understand that you’re not on my radar.

You’re on the list of ‘Most Dangerous People’.

You need to leave me alone, or I’m going to emotionally crush you.

And I know so well that that’s the last thing I want to do to you.

You have been through enough.

You.

You are the epitome of ‘Good things come in small packages’

(Get your mind out of the gutter)

Ideal things come in small packages.

You are almost perfect.

You are nothing that scissors and a pair of stilts couldn’t make perfect. (So far)

You make me hate myself for being so narrow-minded.

I cannot afford to settle for anything below perfect.

You make me kick myself.

You make me sorry.

You, are seemingly amazing.

You.

You see things in me that everyone else does.

You love my shiny nose.

You love my much-too-wide-behind.

You love to help.

But I do not love you.

You are wonderful, kind and caring.

You are strange and insightful.

You and I did bad things.

You and I did good things.

You and I are friends. And that is all it will ever be.

You and You.

You’re the mates I can always rely on to listen.

You’ve been such a massive reason for me staying sane.

You both know exactly where we stand.

You wont let me down, and if you do, all is easily forgiven.

The token ‘nice guys’.

I love you like I love my brother.

You are amazing. No other words will do.

You.

You have known me longer than most.

We’ve rarely spoken for many winters.

You understand me better than most.

You’re the sort of person I could spend my life with.

You have a beautiful soul, and an attitude I love.

Wrong time, wrong places. I’d like to think.

Age is a number, it’s maturity that counts.

You and I are friends. The possibilities are unspoken.

You.

You need to set yourself free of a burden.

You mean well, but sometimes things just wont work.

Square pegs aren’t meant for round holes.

I know you hurt, and so do they, but let go.

You need to just jump in, and don’t stop paddling until you reach the edge.

You can do it, and so can they.

You’re one of my best mates, like a brother that almost was.

You have my utmost respect... most of the time. (I say this in jest)

And you.

You are filth.

You are a no-good, dirty, evil man.

And my life would quickly become a lot less awful if you weren’t in it.

You are someone I hate.