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.