If I came to the coast for a week, what would we do? :)

If I came to the coast for a week, what would we do? :)

Answer here

And so.

It ends.

Time to put this blog to rest.

I'm starting a new one.

Thanks for reading, those of you who did.

September 2nd.

Happy.

Happy happy happy.

Life is good. And I guess that's it. What else can I say?

August 18th.

Trouble.

Listening to: Fly - Nick Drake.
Mood: Quite average.

I'm just salting the wound. I think.

I get the feeling people are mad at me for no reason. I don't know who feels what about me anymore. Then again I don't know what I feel about everyone else.

But aside from that, I've had a good day. A good day! A good week, actually!

(Yes, I know! I'm surprised too! I know as well as you do that this blog is usually filled with my mundane whining and cryptic, emotional...stuff.)

The only down point was the terribly depressing dream I had last night.

Who cares, though? I've had a good day full of peppermint tea and Harold and Maude and my cat and talking to people I love.

(And now Pleasantville is on tv, squee!)

Maybe I'm changing.

This is good. This is very good.

Also, by the way, I have red hair now. Huzzah.

August 8th - II.

Scratchy.

Listening to: Street Spirit (Fade Out) - Radiohead.
Mood: Angry.

I wish I could just keep things between me and another person. But no, everyone's always talking, everyone needs to know everything.
They never consider how I might feel on the subject.

Get out of the fucking water. Now. Beach is closed. Everything's closed. I'm closed. Good job.

Scratchy doesn't hurt as much as he used to. I don't know whether that's a good thing or a bad thing.
Scratch away, little one.

She's screaming at me now and I can't shut her up and this is one of those times I wish she'd just go away, but I might have to live with her for the rest of my life, you know? I don't want to. But I have to. You're lucky. Would you like me to scream in your ear? It's what I certainly feel like doing.

August 8th.

Petits pas.

Listening to: Idioteque - Amanda Palmer.
Mood: Scared.

Sometimes the simple act of breathing can be so difficult.
Something we've known how to do our whole lives, we suddenly forget.

That is how I feel tonight.

But luckily I've got friends and water and movie quotes and giggling to distract me.

"Don't have sex, because you will get pregnant and die! Don't have sex in the missionary position, don't have sex standing up, just don't do it, OK, promise? OK, now everybody take some rubbers."

I just need to take little steps.

More French tomorrow, at least I have that to look forward to. And seeing Erin on Tuesday.
I wish time would go faster.

I wonder how you're feeling right now, seeing me like this. I wonder if you're sick of drowning yet.

July 25th - No more dreaming.

I'm running my fingertips over the blades of grass as I lie in the backyard. Eyes closed, the sun warm on my face. You're sitting nearby, fiddling with a piece of rope.

"Strong enough?" you ask, as I sit up and you hand it to me.

I wind it around in my hands, pulling at it, picking at loose threads while you curl into a ball and watch.

"Maybe. Couldn't hurt to try." I drop the rope on the lawn. You're shaking your hair into your eyes again. I start to lean towards you, to brush it out, but you tumble backwards. You crawl across the grass towards the trees, and before I know what's happening, you're sitting in the branches again, pushing at the tyre swing with your bare toes.

"Don't wanna be here with me, do you?"

How can I even answer that question?

"I don't know, Sa-"

You're climbing higher into the branches now. I can hear you sniffling. Why are you so agile in here?

Why am I in here at all?

I start to run back towards the house. I trip and fall.

The jolt wakes me up.

July 23rd.

Ten letters.

Listening to: Two-Headed Boy - Neutral Milk Hotel.
Mood: Tired.

1. Dear you,
   You make me tremendously happy when I thought that no one else could. To be honest, I never thought we'd end up together. At all. But I'm happy we did. I'm trying not to make a big deal out if it like I used to in relationships. I'm pretty sure some of my friends don't even know I have a boyfriend. But I remember that we talked about that, and it's okay. It's nice to be keeping things to myself for once. I could get used to this.
   And I could certainly get used to you. Don't change. You're incredibly sweet. And probably the most caring person I've ever been with. I just worry I'll turn out to be too much for you like I always tend to be. Here's to hoping, dear.
   
   
2. Dear you,
   I miss you. I feel like I need to see you sometime soon. But I don't know if you'll even read this.
   I read your tumblr. And sometimes I get paranoid that the letters are about me. I never know what you think anymore. I don't know if I can trust you. But I certainly want you around. That is, if you're okay with that.
   Sometimes I think you'd rather I just go away.
   
   
3. Dear you,
   You really do make a difference. Honestly. You're the only one that really helps. I'm thankful for you every day. I love you.
   And yeah, I'm still a bit jealous. Okay, very jealous. It unnerves me a bit how similar she and I are. And even more that you don't seem to notice. But hey, it'll all be okay in the end, no matter what. I promise you that. And I've never broken a promise to you.
   
   
4. Dear Amanda,
   I would not be alive without you.
   I would not be the person I am without you.
   I would have learned ukulele if not for you.
   I would not be blogging if not for you.
   And I know so many other people who owe you like I do.
   When I get my ampersand, you're the first person I'm showing.
   I hope you smile.
   
   
5. Dear you,
   Get fucked. I did nothing wrong. Have fun being miserable for the rest of your life.
   
   
6. Dear you,
   I know you'll be reading this. You might not know it's you I'm talking about. If you need to ask, ask.
   You are so lovely. So incredibly lovely, and it surprises me a bit that you even wanted to talk to me. I'm so glad you did though. You have no idea how nice it is to get an email out of the blue from someone telling you they love your blog and they love you.
   I want to show you wonderful things, music and movies and places I adore. I want to hug you. I want to have tea parties with you and be your best friend.
   I'm seeing you a week from today and I am incredibly excited.
   
   
7. Dear you,
   When will the tyre swing be fixed for good? You're making me hurt again.
   
   
8. Dear you,
   It hurts me that there's so much anger around you right now. People should just go away. It's none of their business. You are such an amazing person and such a good friend. I don't know what I'd do without you. I'll always remember you being there for the best day of my life. Every time I see you my heart lifts and I know I'll have a good time. Even when we're just sitting in your house watching the AFP dvd and listening to Idioteque and fangirling over how good it is. You are one of the best friends I've ever had and I know that's a bit ridiculous, but you are. I love you so much. And I'm glad you're finally getting some meat on your bones.
   
   
9. Dear you, in fact, dear all of you,
   You are so accepting and so wonderful. I can't wait to see you all again. Thank you for being so amazing to the new girl.
   
   
10. Dear you,
    Some days I still want to call you up and say 'Strawberry Clouds' and hope you'll understand how I'm feeling. I miss you more than you could ever know, my dearest. I wish I could make you happy. I'll keep trying.
    
    
    
    
    

July 22nd.

A change to simplicity.

Watching: Batman: Mask Of The Phantasm.
Mood: Really good, actually.

Right, a normal, non-whingy blog for once! Rejoice!

It's a good day today. So I felt like writing lists. I like writing lists. I kind of do it a lot.

Things I like:

• Lists.
• Anything to do with Batman.
• My friends.
• Sleeping.
• The colour blue.
• Floral dresses. (I have far too many.)
• Doc Martens.
• Sunglasses.
• Glitter.
• Garlic bread.
• Baking.
• Monty Python.
• Music! Most kinds.
• Anything to do with Alice In Wonderland.
• Wes Anderson movies.
• Tea.
• Antiques.
• Anything Edgar Wright is involved in, ever.
• Doctor Who!
• Ukulele.
• Blazers and suits.
• Trenchcoats.
• Boobs.
• Talking incredibly quickly.
• Blogging.
• Doing weird stuff with my hair.
• Audrey Hepburn.
• Marilyn Monroe.
• Amanda Palmer.
• 80's movies, especially the Back To The Futures, John Hughes movies, and The Goonies.
• Popcorn.
• Redecorating my room.
• Road trips.
• Comics.
• Video games.
• Geeky/nerdy people.
• The ocean.

Things I dislike:

• PELICANS.
• Pelicans.
• Pelicans.
• Meat.
• Wearing socks with no shoes.
• Avocado. (It's weird and mushy, bleugh.)
• Close-minded people.
• Homophobia.
• The colour orange.
• Insomnia.
• People lying to me.
• People asking if they can wear my glasses.
• Dirty cutlery.
• Hannah Montanna.
• Taylor Swift.
• Open-toed shoes.
• When I try to crack my neck and it doesn't crack.
• People assuming I'm lying or trying to get attention.

Things I am good at:

• Eating an entire serving of McDonalds hotcakes in under two minutes. (Bitches.)
• Making a fool of myself.
• Impersonating Ke$ha.
• Dancing/cartwheeling/doing anything, really, in high-heeled/platform/ridiculous shoes.
• Convincing random people on the street I am British.
• Finding excellent clothes rather cheap.
• Annoying people.
• Writing lists.

Things I am bad at:

• Painting.
• Writing.
• Singing.
• Keeping calm in bad situations.
• Peeling potatoes.
• Cleaning my room.
• Shutting up at the appropriate time.
• Saving money.
• Being rational.

Things I want:

• An antique tea set.
• An antique bird cage.
• A bicycle.
• A job.
• To move to the Inner West. (Preferably Stanmore/Newtown.)
• A violin.
• A hug.

July 20th.

Wake up.

Listening to: Astronaut: A Short History Of Nearly Nothing - Amanda Palmer.
Mood: Just...no.

I wish I was easier to understand.

I'm sorry that this is the way I feel. And I'm starting to think I'll never change. Maybe I just don't fit into traditional roles in that respect. There are other people like that, right? Right?

I'm getting paranoid. My head is just...spinning. I should be happy. I SHOULD BE HAPPY. NOTHING IS WRONG. WHY DOES EVERYTHING FEEL WRONG.
Why can't I be happy?
It's like I've forgotten how.

I'm so angry right now. I don't even know why. I think I may be angry at myself for being...not right. There's just something not right about me.
I can't stop dreaming about the ocean. Being in it. Becoming part of it. Becoming it. Not drowning, just...being.
I just want to be peaceful and cold.
And maybe I don't want to be fixed. I'd rather be crazy than not be myself. I don't care if it kills me, I'm not doing that anymore. I want to be peaceful, not numb. Not different.

You're making me tremble again.

It's not fair.

July 16th - Into the ocean.

If you'd hold me maybe it would be okay.

Listening to: We Belong In The Sea - The Red Paintings.
Mood: Sombre.

I was lucky enough to meet Trash McSweeney (The singer in the above video). Only briefly. But he's lovely. I think I'm in love with him just a bit.

So I'm back home now. And nothing feels right to me. I wonder if my feelings have finally overcome me. I look back on the way I used to think about things and about people, and it's completely different to me now. And I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

I tried to open my eyes but the saltwater stung too much. Spluttering and choking as my throat and my lungs filled to bursting point. My body was fighting for life. I wanted it to stop.

I've been told I'm too obsessed with the ocean. Maybe I am. I wish mermaids existed. Childish, I know. But if I could be anything I'd be a mermaid.
The idea of drowning fascinates me. I worry sometimes that if I'm ever at the beach (or any large body of water really) alone, I may try to drown myself just to see what it's like.

Dear you.
You are wonderful, really, and I hate that I have such conflicted feelings about you. You don't deserve it, at all. We'll be okay, I think. Maybe I will change.
Maybe you'll accept me anyway.
Love Ree.

I'm looking forward to Kristy's birthday, maybe more than she is. I have big plans for her presents. I just hope I can brighten her days a little.
She's a beautiful girl. She should smile more. KRISTY, SMILE MORE.
For me? I love you.

I want to sleep until Sunday.

July 12th.

Come to me.

Listening to: Rain - The Red Paintings.
Mood: Exhausted.

It's torture wanting what you can't have.
A person, an object, an attribute; I know what they all feel like. And yet...
It keeps happening.
I'm feeling overwhelmed by longing right now. Wishing things were different. But it's not up to me anymore. Not many things are.

I love it here, but at the same time I miss everyone and everything back home.
Except for my bed. I hate my bed. I really need a new mattress. So badly. My current one has broken springs that cut me while I sleep. My feet and legs and back and ass are currently covered in scratches. Not fun.
I wish someone would hold me until I fell asleep. I miss that. A lot.
Gah, I sound like such a sadsack right now. Maybe I just need a hug.

I had a wonderful day today. It made me want to move here right now. But like I said, I miss home...

I don't know.

I don't know what I'm doing with myself anymore.

As soon as I get home I have to clean my room out, learn three songs on ukulele, change my doona cover, make birthday presents, dye my hair, and read two books.
Or I could just sleep.

Sleep sounds good.

June 27th.

Whiplash.

Listening to: Ruiner by Nine Inch Nails.

Mood: Solemn.

Sigh.

You don't make this easy on me, do you?

What to do, what to do, what to do...

I can still look at you. For now, anyway. One day. I'll change that.

So! Today was a good day! I got more exercise! And yeah!

Happy! Optimism! ...yeah! Everything's going to turn out okay!

Maybe if I believe that, things will actually turn out okay. Does that work? No harm in trying, I guess.

So then, I'm going to get a job, and get in shape, and the boy I like will realise he likes me! Let's believe that stuff. And then maybe it will happen.

...everyone cross their fingers for me?

My head's been better lately. Sleepy, but better. I think my medication is starting to affect me the way it's supposed to. I just need to stop forgetting to take it every couple of days and I'll be sweet, I think.

It's easy to forget, though. So many years of not having to take anything to BAM, two pills a day. And your state of mind depends on them! Ugh.

Stop being so GODDAMN PERFECT IN EVERY WAY, it kills me just a tad. Every time I talk to you I find out more things that make me like you. Gah. It's not fair at all. But I'll live with it.

What to do tomorrow? I'm enjoying actually doing stuff instead of sitting around the house like a blob.

Although I'm still alone. Some company would be nice. I mean, I feel kind of lame saying things like this, but I'm pretty lonely.

(Maybe you should stop thinking about him then.)

(Oh shut up.)

(Never.)

Anyway, suggestions?

Silly Ree. Stop looking at that photo. You'll just make yourself giggle like a schoolgirl again.

June 26th.

I'm devastated, but I'll hide it from you.

Listening to: A Campaign Of Shock And Awe by Evelyn Evelyn.
Mood: Inexplicable.

"Behold, the eighth wonder of the natural world! Come one and come all, see the two-headed girl! Stupendous! Revolting! You'll be shocked! You'll be awed! A true freak of nature, a blunder of God!"

A Campaign Of Shock And Awe - Evelyn Evelyn

I am a silly, silly girl, hoping for so much. But I guess I have time to change that. At least I have time. I'm not doomed yet.

I think.

So! The past week or so has been pretty awesome. I've met some amazing people and been in a generally good mood. I know! Ree! In a good mood! It's almost unheard of!

Mmmm, delicious chemical happiness. Not entirely real but much better than the alternative. (All encompassing, soul-crushing depression. Not fun.)

There's always this underlying sadness. For some reason it reminds me of an old music box. Happy tune, but some of the notes are just a little bit off. Just enough to be slightly unnerving, but you don't really mention it. Or maybe I should just stay away from metaphors.

Meds good, metaphors bad. Bad Ree.

I need a job so so so so so badly. There are so many things I want. Mainly dvds. I need:

• Ghostbusters 1 + 2
• Mullholland Drive
• Blue Velvet
• Pretty much every Tarantino movie except Inglourious Basterds (My in-browser spell-checker does not like that movie title.)
• Who Framed Roger Rabbit? (I could always steal my stepmother's copy...)
• The Mighty Boosh season 1 (Since the copy I loaned out probably isn't coming back to me.)

Ugh. I also need a tea set.

But nobody wants to reply to Ree when she applies for jobs.

(If anybody knows of anything going, dear Cthulhu, TELL ME. Can you smell the desperation here?)

Is there such a thing as TOO determined? Too determined to lose weight, to make people happy, to make a certain someone take notice of you in a certain way? If there is, then I certainly am too determined. Really. There are factors that would make most people go "Oh. Well, that's not going to work out. Maybe next time."

Things like that just make me think "Yippee! A challenge!"

I guess I'd rather fail after trying than give up. A good thing, but not always.

(By the way, this album is amazing. CHICKEN MAN! CHICKEN MAN!)

(I'm giggling with glee and my brother is looking at me weird. And then he quoted V For Vendetta at me. Interesting.)

I want to see Amanda Palmer and Jason Webley riding an elephant. Hell, just seeing them in general would be great.

They say you should never meet your heroes, but when I met Amanda she was everything I expected. Amazing and beautiful. And it made me love her even more. I'll cherish that day forever.

Too bad the autograph washed off my boobs. Sigh.

By the way, hello Naomi. You're beautiful. And you're one of the people who have made my week so amazing. Kudos, pretty lady. Keep smiling or I'll tickle you to death.

Also, you. You're amazing. Keep being amazing and I'll keep standing in the corner being quiet. What else am I supposed to do for now? I want to throw my arms around you but that would just scare you away.

It's sad.

But I'll live.

I always live.

Well, kinda.

June 15th - On the clifftop.

All I could smell was the smoke and the rough saltiness of the ocean. The crackling of the burning against the sound of the crashing waves was almost soothing.
I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on breathing. The past hour or so had gone by in a blur, and it was only now that I considered the consequences of my actions.
I would most certainly go to jail. Her family would hate me forever. But they didn't know what she had done to me. How she had broken me.
And they wouldn't believe me, or care.
Their little girl was dead, that was all that mattered.
And then there was my family. I could imagine the questions. How could you? Why? Who have you become?
And again, of course, no one would listen. No one would care.
Their little girl was a murderer, and that was all that mattered.

It was hard to watch our bedroom burning around her as she slept. Our photos and memories warping and blackening in the flames. I turned around and walked away, and left the pain with her.
And then I stood on the clifftop. There was no doubt she had burned by now. The house was engulfed in flames, glowing a brilliant orange behind me.
I looked out across the ocean, squinting as the salty breeze brushed my face. A step forward. Another.
Everything was gone now. Another step.
I stood at the edge.
A deep breath. I spread my arms. Another step.

The water is all I have now.

May 26th.

I love you.

Listening to: Things Behind The Sun - Nick Drake.
Mood: Wistful.
Talking to: Jim, Cj, Jane.

Dancing on your front lawn in the middle of the night, yelling to the moon that I'll meet her someday while you watch me and try not to think that I'm crazy. It's okay, we both know I am.
I'll sleep under your bed in a suitcase and sing to you when you're lonely if you'll love me. I'll draw the curtains and blow out the candles and paint stars on the ceiling and name them all for you.
Then one day when it's raining tea you'll decide I'm too much and leave me for the next one. I'll go back to the tire swing in the backyard in her head, and though the rope is frayed she'll push me higher and higher until all I feel and breathe an am is the clouds.
She'll miss you more than i do though, she always does. She falls into the flowers again and I have to pull her out. The strings holding us up are weak, but they'll never break. Like the wires that hold up circus performers. Thin, almost invisible. Like her smile.
You made snow angels for me. I had never seen snow before. The cold was like home. And she's burning like autumn leaves, dancing around the bedroom mocking me.
I'll just wait for the next one.
Hands feather soft. But gripped oh so tight around my wrists. My hands. My calloused hands held by feather soft. I can feel myself breaking. She's singing while I sleep. She keeps them in a suitcase under the bed. The next ones. Light, dark, large, small. But always feather soft.
Always not enough. I'm too much. She's more than enough. Dancing like autumn leaves burning. The smoke smells like roses though.
Roses and jasmine and the blanket I hid under the day she was born.
My throat is dry and we're laughing through it. We're crazy, her and I.
And we're waiting for the next one.


I need to learn control.

May 20th.

All the parts you can't see.

Listening to: Early Sunsets Over Monroeville - My Chemical Romance.

Mood: Exhausted.

You should be more proud of me. I should be more proud of me. I wish you'd listen and acknowledge me and tell me you want me as your daughter and that you understand that something's wrong.

I miss being your daughter. Now I'm just your burden.

Sometimes I feel like everyone's burden.

Except for you. Thank you for fixing our tire swing, by the way.

The leaves are falling, but I like it better that way.

I wonder if the people who read sit there and try to work out the symbolism. It's simple, really. But it doesn't look simple. And I understand why reading this blog might be confusing. But there are people who still do, and I love them for it. They're wonderful. Even if they don't like it, they give me a reason to write it.

And I need to write.

I've always needed to write in one way or another. Language seems to be one of my (admittedly, few) talents.

And it's a passion. And a distraction. And...sometimes it's everything and I get lost as my very life flows through my fingers and onto the screen.

It's an addiction, but a cruel one, as I often find myself with lack of inspiration.

If you could write anything, what would you write about?

(There's a comments section for a reason, guys.)

My dreams are doing the whole 'hey, we're going to fuck with you now' thing again. Rejoice. Maybe it's why I'm so exhausted all the time lately. Either way, it's not fair. There's got to be some kind of pill or something you can take to get dreamless sleep. I'm sick of my dreams.

Some of them haunt me.

Some of them make me wish I'd never wake up.

And I don't want to feel that feeling again. Not wanting to wake up. I've hurt too many people I love by not wanting to wake up.

I'm excited about the weeks to come. I get to see people I adore and do things I love.

And paint. I get to paint. Fuck how I've missed painting... You really have no idea. Now to just pick my songs.

...and buy more paint. That might be helpful.

I bid you adieu for the night.

And leave you with Ophelia. For now.

May 18th.

You're standing on my neck.

Listening to: 1901 - Phoenix.
Mood: Pretty good, regardless.

Right now I'm looking for jobs, and it's not as easy as some people (ie My parents) seem to think. I'm inexperienced at...well, everything. But how I get the experience in the ifrst place if they won't take on people who haven't had experience? It's confusing.
(/click. Okay, just applied to answer phones in an optometrist. I could do that, right?)

I hate that sometimes I slip and measure my self-worth by how many people want to sleep with me. No one should do that, and I'm a hypocrite for doing it.
The way I've been acting lately has been scaring people off, apparently. But I'm trying to be better! I am getting better! Maybe I'm not the problem here, maybe people are just too judgemental of me...

I had a dream on my last night in Queensland.
You were wearing a leather jacket and for some reason you had a tail.
It was long and kind of reptilian and I think I was the only person that could see it. We were sitting across from each other in a cafe and you were stroking my inner thighs quite intimately, but the whole time maintaining eye contact. You were saying things like "You are a piece of meat. Anything we do tonight will mean nothing to me." and all I could do was sit there and nod like I was in a trance.
Then he came in and took me by the hand and led me away from you, to his house. He tucked me into the spare bed and said "She's away for the weekend, shall I stay with you?".
I fell asleep in his arms.
And then I woke up.

They're getting vivd again, my dreams. Which I enjoy sometimes, but sometimes it kills me.

Anyone know any jobs that are going?

May 4th.

What a beautiful liar.

Listening to: Ruiner - Nine Inch Nails.
Mood: Oh no.

Confused and sad. Yeah. What to do?

I want to watch myself from outside my own head. I want to sit miles above you and laugh. in the clouds, will be our playground.
Get outside of my insides.
Get. Out.


In other news, my 18th birthday was epicfuckingtacular. I love my family. <3

I'm running out of future, this history's all just clutter.
Except for you, dear. Except for you.

Maybe I deserve this.
For being trusting and loving. Bad Ree.
Silly kitty.

I miss you. Fuck you. I love you. Go away.
Two-faced doll turns awkwardly and sighs.
Smash smash smash wreck cut faint cry yell scream cut sleep.

April 27th - Long Weekend Retrospective.

Not with a scream, but with a sigh.

Listening to: Time To Pretend - MGMT.
Mood: ...

The following blog consists of journal entries I wrote over the past few days.

April 23rd.

I’m finding myself sitting here with my hands needing something to do. No notebook with me though, that was stupid. I should have brought it.
Playing my ukulele could be good, for a while. But I find myself becoming increasingly frustrated with my lack of natural talent at the damned thing. For some reason I expect to play it perfectly every time I pick it up. Which is ridiculous, really, but oh well.
It might not be boredom this time. There are things preying on my mind and I find myself needing some distraction. Difficult when you’re stuck in a house with nothing to do and pretty much no one to talk to that is in my age group.
That reminds me of my upcoming birthday. When does one truly become an adult? At 18? Earlier? Later? It might depend on the person, I guess. But I wish it was easier to tell. Like some great announcement will go off in my head.

Congratulations, you are now an adult! Have fun being responsible, and remember, spontaneity isn’t always a good thing. And get a mortgage.

I find it rather funny that people celebrate their entrance to adult life by acting childish. You know, getting completely and utterly wasted and doing the various things that one does when one is completely and utterly wasted. Not that I condemn this practice, in fact I plan on undertaking it myself. While it is childish and irresponsible and stupid, it is also incredibly fun. As long as there are no incriminating photographs.

I’m in a rut of sorts. Well, maybe rut is the wrong word. Cycle, perhaps. Pattern? Eh.
I love someone. Good ol' unrequited love.
Same old same old (same old same old same old same old same old same old same old same old...).
What to do? What to do, indeed. Life would be so much better if I possessed some kind of magical quality that would make the object/s of my attention feel the same way. Unfortunately I’m a bit flat-chested. Hah. And not that interesting or good-looking or anything. Too hard on myself, maybe, but certainly not lovable.
Love is funny. And painful. And...Well, you know the clichés. It’s different for everyone. Except for me, I know how it’ll end every time.
Hence the name of my blog.
Well, also, I just liked how it rolls off the tongue. Then I realised it rather applied to myself. Maybe that’s why it popped into my in the first place.
Unrequited love junkie.
Always going back for more no matter how often and how badly I am scorned.

There’s a drumming noise inside my head that starts when you’re around.

Too much time spent idly doing little these days. I’m finding myself becoming increasingly lazy, which is unfortunate. Although I’ve been sitting here typing for some time. Maybe my fingers are the only part of me that get any exercise? And my brain, maybe, but do we really exercise our brains? We strengthen them, certainly. And I’ve been doing too much thinking lately.

By the end of this sentence I will have written 533 words.

This is effectively curbing my boredom. Hurrah. But what to write about now? I’d ask for suggestions, but you see, I’m not actually talking to anyone.
(Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness, Ree, remember? And the second sign is probably arguing with yourself.)
(No it’s not.)
(Yes it is.)

When you’re surrounded by people, do you feel safe? Or do you still feel alone?I do, sometimes. There are a couple of people I let in. But for the most part no one really knows me, I think. What defines if one is crazy or not? Do we have to believe that we’re crazy to actually be so? If we do, then I am. I certainly seem crazier than a lot of people I know. Or maybe I’m just paranoid. A mental health hypochondriac? Does it make a difference if one’s problems are diagnosed or not?
(There are still some days where I’d like to carve “LIAR” into your forehead.)


April 24th.

It’s been a strange few days, full of new and interesting and scary and melancholy things. My brain feels as if it’s on fire. So does the rest of me.
It would be nice to give in to this, but I know that’s probably not a good idea.
Then again I don’t have many good ideas. Ah well. Maybe I shouldn’t trust my own judgement then.

I’m itching to do...something. I don’t know what. Nothing really all that productive in a long-term sense. As much as I’d like a job I don’t know if my current mental state will allow me to function well within one. The cash would be nice, however. I’m shallow, and possessions tend to make me feel better. At least I admit it. Not many people would.

Goddamn compulsions controlling me sometimes.

How am I so lonely when I’m surrounded by people?
How the hell does that work?
Am I so selfish that I need to be constantly engaged in some kind of contact or conversation with someone else?
I should probably stop asking questions that aren’t likely to be answered. Silly, silly Ree. Shut your mouth again. Before you go too far again.

Here I am, a rabbit-hearted girl.

I’m being cryptic, aren’t I?
Just come out and say it, woman.
(No.)
Fine.


April 25th.

Let’s dance around the issue shall we? All of them. Everyone. One biiiiig merry-go-round and it’s making me dizzy.

Maybe I want to be on the other side of the ampersand after all. How predictable, Ree.

Faster, they might catch up, and we wouldn’t want that.


April 27th.

Inside my head
There's a room where I sit
There's a place here for you
If you wanted it

And I promise I won't hog the bedsheets
And I promise that I won't fall out of line
I could leave by the sunrise if that's what you wished
Just let me stay for a little while

Inside my mind
There's a voice that keeps asking me
"You're always falling but when will you land?"

It's not likely I'll think of an answer in time
'Til my limbs are all broken
And I've nearly died
But if you'd let me stay for a little while...

I promised that I wouldn't cry

I wrote that once after I she went to sleep. I still think about her sometimes.

It seems almost relevant now, that poem.

Came across your blog looking for my next dresden doll tat. Just wanted to let you know that I have two ampersand, one on each wrist, for the exact same reason as you stated in your blog. it made my day. :)

That's brilliant. :)
In fact I was thinking of getting it on my wrist. I might just have to now. :)

I love that Amanda's music brings people together like this.

I'm an open book.

April 23rd.

Pet.

Listening to: Glass Slipper - The Dresden Dolls.
Mood: Exhausted.

It gets tricky. Don't be picky. If the slipper fits, you wear it, whore.

I feel silly a lot of the time. And meek. Like if I say anything people won't take me seriously.
I'd like to be strong.
I'm going to be strong.

I've decided on my first tattoo. I'm getting an ampersand.
(This symbol: &)
Want the backstory? Don't care, you're getting it anyway.
Okay, so. There's a song by Amanda Palmer called Ampersand. It is a very nice song, first off.
There's a line in it that goes "I'm not gonna live my life on one side of an ampersand". I interpret that as a statement that the singer doesn't feel like she needs a partner to feel strong or worth something. Am I making sense? It makes sense in my head. And some of the other lyrics are along the same lines.
Ever since I started dating (5 long years ago, ha.) I've kinda felt the opposite. Like if i'm not with someone I'm not worth anything. and I'm sick of feeling that way.
I am my own person and I don't need another's love to feel validated.
(I mean, love is nice and all. I'm not anti-love, in fact, I'm for it. I just don't want to NEED it like I used to.)
So, in short. 1, it is an Amanda tribute. And 2, it is a reminder that I am strong and worth something even when I'm alone.

I sound really fucking pretentious there. Oh well. It's my body, bitches, i'll do what I want with it.
Now, how big and what font and where to get it?

Yesterday and today have made me really happy. A touch melancholy, perhaps, but happy. I hope this feeling stays.
Busy month ahead. Keeping busy is good. Distractions are good. I like distractions.
I also like tea. I might make some tea.

Okay, I have tea now. Good strong tea with no milk and just a pinch of sugar. Heaven.

Birthday soon. Gulp.
I'll be an adult.
But what'll change, really? Anything?

For now, I wait.
For a lot of things.

Back to watching Buffy now.

Ciao.

April 19th.

To be lost.

Watching: Buffy The Vampire Slayer
Mood: Tired.

Passion... it lies in all of us. Sleeping, waiting, and though unwanted, unbidden, it will stir, open its jaws, and howl. It speaks to us, guides us... passion rules us all. And we obey. What other choice do we have?
Passion is the source of our finest moments; the joy of love, the clarity of hatred, and the ecstasy of grief.
It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion, maybe we'd know some kind of peace. But we would be hollow. Empty rooms, shuttered and dank... without passion, we'd be truly dead.

I'm a little bit lost.
And a little bit unsure.

But happy. I guess.

April 5th.

Snow angels are the crime scenes of dead normal angels.

Listening to: Blake Says - Jim Fishwick. (My friends are more amazing than yours.)
Mood: Hungry.


Things you may or may not know about me.

• I hate pelicans.
• I'm obsessed with boy's hands.
• I have to say hiccup after I hiccup. Like a tic, I guess.
• I love lying on the floor, or grass.
• If you can play an instrument, I will love you.
• I want to get married, for some reason. Always have.
• When I was a kid I had an imaginary friend. I forget her name, but she had red hair and glasses and we would sing together.
• I'm allergic to employment, and addicted to money.
• I have 4 plays I'm writing right now, but I doubt I'll finish any of them.
• I wish I could draw so that I could design my own clothes.
• I hate the colours yellow and orange.
• I am far too honest, and if you ask me anything I will answer. Pretty much anything.
• Orange juice makes me hyper.
• My full name is Rianne Margaret Mansell.
• I like to run headlong into things, like relationships, and walls.
• I can't stand dirty glasses.
• The NeverEnding Story was my first favourite movie. I can still recite a lot of the dialogue.
• When I first saw the movie Labyrinth, I couldn't tell if Jareth was male or female. But I was attracted to him regardless.
• I can crack most of the bones in my body, and do so frequently. Especially my knuckles, neck and back. Apparently they're disgustingly loud.
• I really like red wine, and I'm not a wine snob about it. If it's decent, I'll probably love it and drink lots of it.
• I sing a lot, but people rarely hear me.
• I wish I could play an instrument, but I'm a terrible songwriter.
• I hold a lot of feminist ideals, yet I would be perfectly content to be a housewife.
• I pretend to be an artist. I can't paint very well, but it helps me chase the monsters away.
• I fall in love too quickly and too easily.
• I might be falling in love right now.
• I don't know with who yet though.

Last night I dreamt I could ice skate really well.
And now I want to go ice skating.

Well, mostly for the skating. But for other reasons as well.

I have a few things to look forward to, at least.

April 1st.

Oh I'm not going to list all the people I've kissed or file all the people I've fucked.


Listening to: With A Heavy Heart (I Regret To Inform You) - Does It Offend You, Yeah?
Mood: Uplifted.



I'm a bit happier. A bit crazier, sure, but happier.
Maybe it's the pills. Maybe it's the people.
But things seem pretty awesome right now. So fuck you, douche.


I saw Alice In Wonderland yesterday, finally.
(You're late for TEA! /throws teacup.)
And played DDR. I lost. Kristy's too Asian. And we got sticker photos. I wish my scanner worked, they're kind of brilliant.
drugsdrugsdrugsdrugsspoonsandbutterfliessss.
By the way, Kristy, Mum said she might buy me that skirt. Score.


Um. I also spent some time with someone. Who I happen to like. A fair bit.
In fact, they might be reading this now. HELLO STALKER. You have pretty hands.


I'm going to church tonight. Yes, I know. I'm an atheist. But so's Kristy, and she gets dragged by her family all the time, so I decided to keep her company. And it gives me an excuse to put on clothes.
(Current attire: Yesterday's underwear and a dressing gown. I haven't showered yet. Hot, I know.)
Also, it gets me out of the house, which I like. I wish I knew more people that could drive and just get them to come pick me up and take me away from it all.
Well. We'll see.


Only half an hour left if you feel like April Fool-ing someone. I honestly can't be bothered.
I'm too happy right now.

March 27th.

Nearly Nothing.

Listening to: Another Year: A Short History of Almost Something.
Mood: Stale.
Chatting to: Bas.

I want my chest pressed to your chest.

Last night, I can't even describe what was going on in my mind. And if I were to try you'd end up with another confusing and cryptic blog entry that only I really understand and would be of no benefit to anyone.

All I know is this is hard. All of it.
And sometimes I don't know if I should continue.
Or just let myself fade. Be enveloped by air and nothingness and clouds.
Hmm. A Strawberry Cloud, maybe.
Here I go being cryptic again.

But the thing is, could I really just come out and say it?
That I want this thing and I hate that thing and I really, really miss this thing?
(Thing thing thing thing)

Probably not.
I'd get yelled at.
And left.

March 26th.

I'm craving coffee and waking up in someone else's bed.

Listening to: Only Ones Who Know - Arctic Monkeys
Mood: Refer to this blog's title. No, not the date, you idiot.

It's been a lonely week. Filled with people.
Yeah, don't expect me to be making much sense this time of night. My sleep patterns are a bit fucked as of late. I'd like to blame the meds, but that would be taking the easy way out, I think. And I'm too used to taking the easy way out. Let's mix things up, shall we?

I haven't told anyone directly, nor will I directly talk about it due to the fact that it screws with my head too much (Oh, we don't want that now, do we, we want to keep that 'positive attitude' the psych keeps harping on about without actually doing anything to help) but my screwed up dreams are coming back.
But Ree, you might say, aren't you always having screwed up dreams? To which I would quietly chortle, take a sip of my vodka, then another, then a gulp, and reply "Yes. But not always the same ones. And some affect me more than others. Haven't you listened to anything I've been telling you, silly child?" (with the air of a worldly and most likely alcoholic middle-aged aunt wearing a pantsuit and sporting long, red talons) I would probably close my eyes, then, and lean back in my chair as you continued to judge me, and drain my drink a little bit more.

On a completely unrelated note, I miss booze.

Back to the point.
I get the feeling that people don't take my frequent nightmare-ing seriously, and I can understand. To someone who hasn't been through this kind of thing, it could easily be misconstrued as an attention-seeking effort.

In fact, to be honest, I haven't been telling anyone the full story of late, because I'm sick of people assuming it's nothing, it's a ruse, Ree just wants cuddles and sympathy again.
Not that I don't like cuddles and sympathy. They're always good. So is tea. And decent conversation.
But I digress.
What's the point of divulging my worries in people if I'm just going to get shunned?
(And I do realise there will be a few people reading this thinking "Wait...She's going EASY on us?" And I totally understand. Even at my most restrained, I whinge a lot.)

I miss certain people that I haven't missed for a while. It's strange.
I wonder if it's been enough time yet.

How long does it really take for emotional wounds to heal?
For people to change?
Do people change?
If anyone can't, it's me. And I hate that fact about myself.
Much like I hate most other things. But hey. I almost sound like I'm looking for cuddles and sympathy again.

I might blog again tomorrow. I might not. I might blog again in three hours, who knows.

This is probably one of the stranger moods I've been in.

Adieu.

March 20th.

Brilliance.

Listening to: Breathing.
Mood: Tired, but strangely content.

The past couple of weeks have been a whirlwind of sorts.
Partly good, partly bad, I guess.

Some amazing things have happened. Amanda Palmer, for one.
(Everyone is pretty much sick of hearing about how she touched my boobs. She touched my boobs, by the way.)

And some awful things. Well, not anything in particular, but I've had some rather crippling down periods. Hopefully this will be a thing of the past, however.

I've started on antidepressants. Finally. I know that's not something to boast about. Boasting about being mentally ill is not my thing. But it's a good change.

No side effects yet, aside from a bit of appetite loss. And I'm more tired. Eh. I don't mind. Why would I need energy anyway?

People don't realise how hard it is to find a job at my age. Especially sans HSC. Not that I regret leaving school early. I just regret that society seems to worship that stupid piece of paper.

Some people can't deal with school, especially people with depression, I've noticed. I left. Other people do Pathways. Other people do Distance Ed.
Some just crumble under the weight of it all.

I'm not saying education isn't important. It is. It's rewarding, and sometimes interesting. It's just that the system sucks. Unfortunately I wouldn't be able to come up with a better one. Any ideas?

At the moment my interest in education is minimal at best. Right now I want to live. And when I'm in school/TAFE/whatever, I feel dead. And no one wants to feel dead.

At least, I should hope not.

I'm trying to be okay, for your sake. But could you at least act like I mean something? Anything.

Am I really such a bad person that I deserve to be treated like this?

I got a good night's sleep last night, surprisingly. I don't know if I was talking or not, though. I'll ask Brendan when he wakes up.

I had a strange dream about a dog having puppies that were a different breed, and then the puppies grew really quickly, and then they changed into humans. It was...well, weird. But in the dream it seemed normal to everyone.

Sometimes my dreams mean things. I think. It's hard to explain.

But that one was just random.

My arms are itchy.

March 4th.

If you're disappointed, you're doing it wrong.

Listening to: Undisclosed Desires - Muse.
Mood: Tired.
Reading: The Adventures Of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Aruthur Conan Doyle.

Today there are things I'm supposed to be doing, but I doubt I'll get them done.
I doubt I'll get anything done. It's one of those days where I just... I just can't.
So. Tea and reading and N64.

I might put a blogroll up. I've been reading a lot of other blogs lately. I might as well get them some more publicity. Not that it'll be much, no one reads my blog.
Well, maybe like 2 people, and only when I tell them to. Ah well.

Only 3 more sleeps.

Amazing woman.

Things I want for my birthday (hint hint):

• Buffy box sets.
• Charmed box sets.
• Dexter box sets.
• A pair of black Doc Martens.
• An antique birdcage.
• An old-fashioned tea set.
• Money.
• Black high waisted shorts (but not too short).

I don't think I'll end up getting any of that stuff though. Maybe the dvds. Possibly the shorts, but apparently a black pair is hard to find.
It's okay though. I don't mind what I end up getting. I don't mind if I get nothing. Being 18 is enough.

I might make myself that tea now.

March 3rd.

A risk I'm willing to take.

Listening to: Rich in Promise - July Morning.
Mood: Inexplicably giddy.

First off, I am an idiot. A HUGE idiot.
But I'm enjoying this far too much. It's nice to actually LIVE for once instead of just worrying. It's nice to just take the plunge and do things.

I've been busy. Driving, shopping, spending time with people, reading, watching FAR too much of the Sci Fi channel (I'm now quite addicted to Buffy, Charmed and Stargate SG1; shows I vowed never to get into.), and drinking rather a lot of tea.
People have started coming to me for advice. Finally. After all this time of being the one to spill her problems all over her closest friends, I'm the rock they lean on. Now, I know I'm not the only person my friends use for support. But it's nice to be one, at least, for once.

Doesn't totally stop me feeling worthless, but it helps. And any help is good in this ongoing battle against... Well, whatever the fuck is wrong with me.

Which reminds me. I've been diagnosed.
Depression.
It's official. And I'm strangely happy at the news. I guess I'm just glad that I know now, and we can do something about it.
I probably need to call my dad tonight and try and figure out some of this doctor business.
Lately I feel like I've been in waiting rooms most of the time. Not just literal ones. metaphorical ones, too.
Doctor's offices. Centrelink waiting rooms. Waiting for someone to call, to text, to reply. Waiting for the hours to pass. Waiting for someone to arrive, to leave.
It's not so bad, I suppose. Better than being overwhelmed.

Although, some things are overwhelming me... In a good way.
They shouldn't. But they do.
(Idiot idiot idiot idiot idiot...)

I turn 18 in two months. It's kind of massive for me.
My whole life, a lot of the questions I've asked my parents have been answered with "When you're 18." and now, I'm nearly there.
But what does it mean, really?
I can drink. Smoke. Get a tattoo.
I'm legally an adult.
But am I physically? Emotionally?
I don't know yet. but I'm getting there. Even in the past month I've made a lot of progress.
I'm proud of myself. I wish you'd be proud of me. Or even just notice.
Now to decide what tattoo to get. Or body part to shove metal through. Nose, I think first. Then maybe an industrial through my ear.
Even if I haven't grown up yet, I'm starting to enjoy the process...

This weekend might possibly be the most epic weekend ever.
AMANDA.
FUCKING.
PALMER.
And while I probably won't get to meet her, one can dream, right? And besides, just to be seeing her in concert is fucking awesome. The woman's my hero. Heroine? Both. She's gotten me through a lot.
And I know I'll cry if/when she plays Astronaut.

What can I say? I'm an idiot.

February 25th.

Blogging from my phone, heh. I can't do any underlines or bold or anything. And for some reason I find that a little unnerving. I like my posts to follow a certain formula, I guess.

I've been having a good week. I've had job offers, been driving, talked on the phone to friends. Things that would usually pretty much fill me with joy. So why do I feel so sad right now?

I wish I had more control over my moods. Or that my psych would just put me on some fuckine meds already. I've been trying. But I think everyone's sick of hearing "I'm trying." from me. I can't really tell if I've made any tangible progress, in anything. Have I?
...Will I ever?

Ah well. Weird weekend ahead. Driving lesson on Saturday, worth 3 hours. And trying to avoid people for the rest of the time, pretty much. I don't know if I can deal this time. I should be okay. I should be great.
But I'm not.
Life is great, everything's going well.
But there's still a lot of things missing.

I might have some tea now.

February 22nd.

There is this thing that's like touching except you don't touch.

Listening to: Sing - The Dresden Dolls
Mood: Coming down.

I've had a good past few days. Really good.

Saturday - Hung out with Brendan, went to Rozelle Markets, secondhand stores, Reverse Garbage, and a whole lot of public transport. Being freaky with a phone on my head. Deciding that Stanmore is in fact awesome.

Sunday - Went driving with Mum, mastered roundabouts. Fuck yeah.

Today - Watched Ghostbusters (Shut up, Ghostbusters is awesome), found out about a really good job oppurtunity, went driving with Mum again. I'm getting good.

I've decided a few things. But there's still stuff I'm not sure about.
(Because you guys totally love it when I'm vague.)
I wish I knew how to help you cope. Well, I do know. I've done it before. I wish you'd let me help.
Now, to try and write a resume. Ugh. I'm not good at this.

I miss when it was easy.
But life wasn't meant to be easy, I guess.

There is this thing that's like talking except you don't talk.

February 18th.

Imagination is more important than knowledge.

Listening to: Road To Nowhere - Talking Heads
Mood: Full.

I've spent the first half of my day listening to Talking Heads and Porcupine Tree, reading blogs (mainly Neil Gaiman's, but a few others too.) and drinking tea and apple juice (both on their own and together. What can I say, I was bored. I was not disappointed.)
And while I would like to spend most of my days listening to music and reading blogs and drinking apple juice/tea/applejuicetea, I realised that I ACTUALLY HAVE STUFF TO DO TOMORROW.
Gah. Good or bad?
Anyway. Psych appointment at 9. Hopefully Nan will give me a lift, otherwise I'll have to go in when Mum takes Shane to school, which means waiting around for at least half an hour. In a psych's waiting room. Not the most pleasant of places, despite the adorable receptionist who is always incredibly nice to me.

I must remember to wear more comfortable shoes this time. Last time I was stuck in Westpoint all day I wore my not-so-advisable (but awesomely cute and cheap and complimented on) secondhand heels that I got at the St Vinnie's at Rozelle. Now, they're comfortable. But not for a whole day. I don't think ANY heels are really comfortable for a whole day, to be honest. As much as I love shoes that make me look awesome and taller.
Note to self: Stop using the word awesome so much, you are not Barney Stinson.
...
...Mmmm. Barney.
WHAT NO I DON'T HAVE A CRUSH ON NEIL PATRICK HARRIS.
Much.

Last night I spent a good 2 and a half hours on the phone to Kristy, which was awe... uh, great. Lately I've been spending lots of time having late-night chats with the few people I consider my best friends, which has been slightly contributing to my lack of sleep, but also contributing to my "Hey-I'm-actually-kind-of-okay-and-not-totally-depressed-right-now"-itis. Good for you, guys. Thanks for putting up with me and my stupid advice and babbling and giggling and strange references to stuff.
(By the way, Kriz, if you could not tell the people I talked about killing that I'd like to kill them, that would be appreciated. Ta.)
We came up with a killer soap-opera storyline that involves toothbrushes and pregnancy and being seperated at birth but actually being the same person (albeit slight less asian than your other half) and talked about Daniel Radcliffe for far too long.
...
...Mmmm. Daniel.

ANYWAY. I have spent too much time procrastinating while writing this. Reading other blogs, namely. So maybe I should post some of the blogs I read?

• http://volcanicensemble.blogspot.com - The Sassy Curmudgeon. She is wonderful, and I love her, but I've never had the guts to tell her.
• http://tavi-thenewgirlintown.blogspot.com - Style Rookie. She is adorable, and wickedly funny, and only like, 13. WTF. She also has some kickass clothes.
• http://thatispriceless.blogspot.com/ - That Is Priceless. Very LOL-inducing. Well, at least I think so.
• http://www.passiveaggressivenotes.com/ - Passive Agressive Notes. Always cheers me up.

Also, Amanda Palmer and Neil Gaiman's blogs, because I stalk them. Can you blame me, they're fucking awe... fantastic. Best couple ever.

So, I've wasted roughly an hour attempting to write this blog entry, and have nothing more interesting to sa-...OH WAIT YES I DO.

On Saturday, I think, I'm totally dragging my dear Brendan around secondhand shopping. Huzzah! Of course, I won't be able to actually BUY anything, due to lack of funds, but it shall be fun nonetheless.

February 17th.

Louder than sirens, louder than bells.

Listening to: Blinding - Florence + The Machine.
Mood: Ow ow ow fucking my kidneys ow.

First off, this song is brilliant when I steal my brother's big headphones.
Secondly, cardboard boxes should not be so fun.
And thirdly, I'm looking forward to this weekend far too much. It's not that big a deal. But loneliness can make you a bit like that, I guess. Also, the promise of secondhand shopping. Huzzah.

If you used to read my blog before I redesigned it for this year, you'll know I love writing lists. For absolutely no fucking reason. Lists of songs, of things I need to do, anything. If I cleaned my room half as well as I wrote lists, I would be able to see the carpet. And not just in patches, the whole damn thing.

So, ignoring the fact that none of you are probably even remotely interested in what i have to say I present to you:

Ree's list of Things She Needs Right Now That She Could Probably Live Without But Would Really Like Anyway

• An old-fashioned, fancyish tea set. (For photoshoot purposes, and also because tea is awesome.)
• A watering can. (Old-fashioned is good, again. Also for photoshoot purposes.)
• Her netbook to fucking work. (For obvious reasons.)
• Money. (For buying said tea set and watering can and also a bunch of secondhand clothes.)
• Her own Medicare card. (Taking care of this soon, finally.)
• To drive more. (I'm not going to kill you, Mum. Jeez.)

Oh, and you. You would be nice.
I swear this computer is riddled with viruses already. STOP LOOKING AT PORN, SHANE.
Please.

Well, I just heard my Mum's car in the driveway and I still have stuff I didn't do yet. Fuck.
I'm off.
You honestly have nothing better to do than to look through my blogs for hidden messages? Yeah, I know it's stupid that I put them in here since who they're INTENDED for will never read them. But that doesn't mean youneed to comment on them.

February 14th.

Cornerstone.

Listening to: Blissful silence.

Mood: Everything.

Chatting to: Bas.

I drove today.

It was pretty fucking amazing. And easier than I thought. I'm going to get my P's as soon as I can. Well, if my parents take me driving enough for me to get my hours up in a reasonable amount of time.

I know you don't really believe in Valentine's Day.

My dad's booking me a lesson for this Saturday morning, if they can fit me in. Well, I wasn't busy anyway, so I may as well. It certainly won't hurt.

Neither do I, really. Well, not since you told me you didn't. You have a remarkable amount of influence over my opinions.

I'm so busy this coming week, though... I might just get lost in it all.

I do miss getting lost in things.

But I just wanted to say that I love you. Even though you won't see this.

I want to go shopping soon. I have a list of places I want to go. Mostly vintage and secondhand stores. But I need money first. Damn it. I just fucking wish my mother would give me what's rightfully mine.

I might apply at Hoyts tomorrow. In between all the other stuff I have to do.

I've been trying to keep busy.

I doubt you'll ever read this, actually.

But it will always be you, and only you.

And that will never change.

I'm sorry.

I just hope, if you can't ever love me, you'll at least understand.

But I'd really like you to love me.

Keeping busy is good, I guess.

I've been trying. Doing all the things you wanted me to.

I just wish you'd notice me.

I love you.

Happy Valentine's Day.

February 13th.

Dear Bas.

RL YEQ BKJ KYBHRCN OPRM, YEQ PBSJ OEE ZQFP ORZJ EC YEQK PBCHM.
PBSRCN MBRH OPBO, R XESJ YEQ, BCH YEQ BKJ BUJMEZJ.

Love Ree.

February 12th.

Living in metaphor.

Listening to: Dirty Business - The Dresden Dolls (This song should NOT remind me so much of myself.)

Mood: Tired. Fuck dreams.

Chatting to: Brendan, Liam, Bas.

So, I'm at Dad's, which means better internet. Hurrah?

Basically it means I can camerawhore and actually upload stuff. Because you totally want to look at pictures of me.

This is what I look like RIGHT NOW OMG:

Ree, sans makeup. I know. Rare. Brave, even?

Everyone knows how much I hate my face without at least eyeliner. My eyes are a funny shape. It doesn't help that in this photo I look cross-eyed.

But I'm feeling ballsy today. ("No, not real balls, metaphorical balls!" I swear, my conversations with Brendan always cheer me up. He's an awesome kid.)

It's To Write Love On Her Arms Day today. In Australia at least.

I used to be really hostile towards it, for stupid reasons. Basically I just thought it was some stupid thing shitty pop-punk bands were involved in.

Certain people changed my outlook though.

Unfortunately the angle in this one is bad, and it looks like it says LOVF. Also, it contains my face looking retarded.

Slightly better, more love and less of my face.

The best, all love and no face!

Also; note the random wrist-bone-thing.

I like my wrists. They're rather veiny, and for some reason I find that attractive. Not that I'm attracted to my own wrists. I'm sure there are people who are attracted to wrists. There's a fetish for everything nowadays.

And yeah, it was you. You've changed my mind about a lot of things, you know. I'm an organ donor now. I don't read my horoscopes anymore. I'm never touching pot. Wouldn't make a difference though, would it?

...Would it?

OH BY THE WAY BRENDAN LOOK I'M NOT BEING SLACK WITH MY BLOG SO YOU COULD TOTALLY DO IT TOO. BIG MOTHERFUCKING HINT. WOO.

February 11th.

Hours.

Listening to: Dirty Business - The Dresden Dolls

Mood: GAH TIRED.

Chatting to: Liam.

The phrase 'severe depression' came up.

Severe? Really?

Fuck.

Even I didn't think it was THAT bad.

But I guess she'd know better than me.

But still...fuck. I dunno, maybe I'm making a big deal about it. But wouldn't you do the same thing?

...Probably not, come to think of it.

She asked me about you. A lot. More than I wanted to talk about you.

I felt...weak. Pathetic, almost.

But when I talked to people about it later I acted like it went fine.

Met up with Erin, Liam, Kristy and Kirrily this afternoon. It was pretty good. Erin filled me in on how the swimming carnival went.

I miss people. Maybe I miss school. Yeah, I probably do. But it's too late now. Far too late.

Now I just have to grow up with everyone else.

Being your slave what should I do but tend

Upon the hours, and times of your desire?

I have no precious time at all to spend;

Nor services to do, till you require.

February 10th.

Oh lover, may I stab thee?

Listening to: Ruled By Secrecy - Muse.

Mood: Scared.

I should be fine.

I will be fine.

Will I?

Take the scalpel.

Cut yourself open, it's really not that painful.

And inside, you'd never believe the things I've seen in you.

But you're not bleeding.

I've been thinking insane things. That this could all go wrong and I'll end up in a place I don't want to be. Physically or emotionally.

I want to know, though. I want to know so badly.

I want to put a name to it.

I love you, and I'm not going away.

Do you ever bleed?

February 9th.

Biology.

Listening to: Phase 7: Original - Rabbit In The Moon

Mood: Full.

Chatting to: Brendan, Bas.

So, I finally got my L's today.

And goddammit, I'm proud of myself. Yeah, it took me ages to finally do the test. Yeah, it turned out to be easy. But the thing is, I was kinda nervous. Okay, very nervous.

I don't trust myself in cars. I don't trust cars in general. And road rules, while mostly common sense, can be annoying and hard to remember.

And I'm a nervous spaz.

Anyway, I am very proud of myself, at least. Now to get all the hours I need. Is it 120 now? I'm not sure.

I love getting lost. In anything. A place, a person, a song, a mood. Anything.

I think I need to get lost again soon. Just go to the city alone and walk around. Maybe with someone.

I want to get so severely lost that it gets dark and I have no idea where I am.

I miss that rush.

I miss a lot of things, actually.

I miss sitting outside in the middle of the night when it's cold and a little bit breezy and not at all humid. (Fuck it's humid lately.)

I miss being able to write and not worry about whether or not I'm wasting my time.

I miss who I used to be.

I miss you.

And by you, I mean a few people. People who have abandoned me, people who I've fallen out of contact with, people who have changed.

I miss being able to wear what I want and not care.

I miss school. Yeah, I said it.

And I miss my grandparents, but I think most people know that.

I'm getting so sick of this house. Whenever my brother decides to chuck a fit I'm the one that gets yelled at. I think it's because Mum is scared of punishing him.

Fucking hell, though. He needs to grow up some day. Stop wrapping him in cotton wool.

If it goes on for much longer... Gah. I'm not going to put up with it.

Trying to be independent is a bit alien to me. But I'm getting better. I'm going to get better. I think. I hope?

I'm trying to be optimistic.

I've started moving all my stuff out of my room to sort. I have a bunch of cardboard boxes, and I plan on just having two groups. Keep, and Throw Away. No maybe pile.

Sometimes I think I've just got to get away from here for a while.

I don't know where I'd go.

Look closer.

February 8th.

Reduced.

Listening to: I'm Not Calling You A Liar - Florence + The Machine.

Mood: Tired.

Chatting to: Bas, Brendan, Erin, Liam.

BY THE WAY, THIS BLOG IS DEDICATED TO BAS, BECAUSE HE'S AWESOME.

I'm not calling you a liar

Just don't lie to me

I had an amazing weekend.

On Saturday, Erin, Laura and I went and got coffee in the city. (Yes, we miss Starbucks that much.) The weather was terrible, though, so as soon as we had our coffee we decided to go back to Blacktown and stay in Westpoint for a bit. We ended up going into Playtime (the arcade, for non-Blacktowners) and playing air hockey.

My arm stills hurts from that, by the way. I'm terrible at air hockey. But funny to watch, apparently, so that was good enough. I kind of just...flail. Erin thrashed me. Like, 7 - 3 or something. But then Laura thrashed her, so it was all good.

Then. Sticker photos. For like, the first time in aaaaaaages. I forgot that they give you a time limit to edit those things... But we ended up with some pretty good ones. Especially the one with question marks around Laura's head.

We got dinner at Noodle Extra (Extra's a funny word.) and all ended up getting the same thing. Fuck yeah vegetarian noodles. Although, Noodle Box is better. Unfortunately, only in Queensland, I think.

I'm not calling you a thief

Just don't steal from me

Onto yesterday.

I ran into my friend Dyz at Blacktown station, which was random. I haven't seen her in years. I met her on a forum, and we had met in person a few times, but this was completely surprising. Nice, though, because it meant I didn't have to get the train alone.

I got into Central station at 11, which was when Brendan was supposed to be meeting me.

Around quarter past, I think, I get a phone call.

"Uhh, I only just woke up."

RAGE.

I managed to figure out how to get the bus to his house, though. After much talking to the shopkeeper guy.

"Are you SURE this is the right ticket?"

"I don't know, I just sell them."

I get off a stop early (Which is only, what, a hundred metres away I think.) and walk over to Brendan, who is standing there holding a mug of coffee. He looked wonderfully pretentious, and I informed him of this fact.

So, after a brief stay at his house in which I dumped my jacket and told Brendan's sister I was jealous of her (SHE HAS TWO PAIRS OF DOC MARTENS. NOT FAIR.), we headed to Rozelle Markets, which I have probably spelled wrong. Doesn't matter, though, they have some amaaaaaaazing second-hand stuff there. I wish I could go every weekend. Lack of funds, however, stops me. Gah.

I bought an awesome shirt and pair of shoes from the Vinnies across the road, too. Mmm, bargains. I love secondhand shopping so much. Cheap, awesome stuff. This makes Ree happy.

On the train home, a cute guy talked to me. It was...weird, but awesome. I got a phone number. Not sure what I'm going to do, though. I don't have any credit, anyway.

And then I got locked into Westpoint. Yeah, that was a bit stupid. Thank goodness that random cleaner guy let me out.

I'm not calling you a ghost

Just stop haunting me

Booked my L's test for tomorrow. Nervous? Me? Pfft.

...Yes.

Ah well, Dad's paying.

This afternoon Erin, Laura and I went to Blacktown Pool. They wanted to do laps to practice for their swimming carnival on Thursday, I wanted to distract them. I won.

Erin and I attempted to teach Laura one of our pool rituals, also known as "WOOOSH". She couldn't quite twist right.

Erin and I have been going to the pool together for...ages, now. Half of our inside jokes were formed there. And, true to tradition, a new one was formed today.

"Breaststroke will now be known as 'inverted sternum stroke' to avoid offending people."

Only a few people will get that. But that's the point of the inside joke.

I'm really tired. And I'm having trouble eating. It's frustrating. But I'm trying.

With everything.

All I can do is try.

And I love you so much

I'm gonna let you kill me

February 5th.

We slip, we slip.

Listening to: Rabbit Heart (Raise It Up) - Florence + the Machines
Mood: Restless and nauseous.

First off, I got a haircut.
For those of you who have known me for a while, think Ree circa Year 9/early Year 10. Yes. The fringe is back.
And I'm already hating it, gah. Stupid hairdresser did not listen. Does this look like a side fringe to you?!


I think I'm actually a fairly shy and insecure person, which is why I tend to overact sometimes. I put on this veneer of confidence and strength when actually I'm shaking.

The looking glass so shiny and new
How quickly the glamour fades
I start spinning, slipping out of time
Was that the wrong pill to take?
(Raise it up)

By the way, new favourite song, if you hadn't guessed.

You made a deal and now it seems you have to offer up
But will it ever be enough?
(Raise it up, raise it up)
It's not enough
(Raise it up, raise it up)

I wish I had the guts to say some of the things I want to say to people.

Maybe I'll just do one of those anonymous posts here and people will try and guess.

1. How fucking dare you treat him like that. You're more messed up than I thought. But I'd still talk to you if you wanted, because for some reason I find it easy to tell you things. Maybe I'm a bit fucked in the head too.

2. Thank you so much for abandoning me. It's nice to know you were only being my friend because of who I was dating.

3. You're a hypocrite, and a liar. So much for reconnecting.

4. I wish you had told me who was there. But what's done is done now. You know I'm sorry. And I hope you're sorry. Now I just need to try and fix it. By the way, thank you. You're kind of amazing.

5. I worry about you so. Fucking. Much.

6. I'm still jealous of you.

Here I am, a rabbit-hearted girl
Frozen in the lights
It seems I've made
The final sacrifice

I think my brother has downloaded something and it's given us viruses. Fuck.
I wouldn't be surprised if it was pron.

Tomorrow I get to see Erin and Laura for the first time in ages. Hopefully it won't be raining, that would suck.
They want to meet me at 2pm. To go into the city. That's a bit late...
Here I go into paranoia mode again...

ARGH FUCKING VIRUSES.

We raise it up
This offering
We raise it up

This is a gift
It comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight

On Sunday I'm going into the city with Brendan. We'll probably end up bumming around cathedrals and taking photos, or maybe go see a movie. To be honest, I'd be happy with anything.
We were thinking of inviting other people. But who's friends with both Brendan and I that would actually want to spend a day with us?
Not many people right now, I think.
Well, I don't know, really. Anyone feel like coming?

I look around and I can't find you
If only I could see your face
I start rushing towards the skyline
I wish that I could just be brave

I must become the lion-hearted girl
Ready for a fight
Before I make
The final sacrifice

This weather is making me restless. I want to run out into the storm and scream until I stop feeling anything and dance until I pass out.
I miss running around in the rain. I used to, at high school. Some people disapproved, but i fucking loved it.
And I always made sure I took off my jumper first so I'd have something dry to put on afterwards.

I miss school, but I don't. It was just easier to keep up with people back then.
And now, I don't even know when one of my best friend's grandparents dies. I don't hear anything from anyone.
If there was ever a loop, I'm firmly out of it.

We raise it up
This offering
We raise it up

This is a gift
It comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight

Raise it up, raise it up
Raise it up, raise it up

My mum's been confusing me a lot lately.
She's been selfish and hypocritical and setting terrible examples for me.
And then she turns around and tells me that how I'm acting is not appropriate.
From where I stand, you're worse than I am.
Now please take that fucking cigarette outside.

And in the spring, I shed my skin
And it blows away with the changing wind
The waters turn from blue to red
As towards the sky I offer it

This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight

I wish I could stop myself from having dreams.

In my dreams I'm more real than I am when I'm awake.