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.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Thursday, May 20, 2010
May 20th.
All the parts you can't see.
Listening to: Early Sunsets Over Monroeville - My Chemical Romance.
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.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
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?
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?
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
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.
Friday, April 23, 2010
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.
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.
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