lately been holding up the sky for you

i'm sick of being treated like i don't matter. i'm tired of same people constantly treating me like shit. i'm over second chances and bad choices. i need ice cream. fuck.



may as well call the bears around my neck 'love'.
francis dolarhyde take me back to year ten.

am kreuz

tonight i swam to the far side of the lake and spied heaven in all its naivety. my torchlight only shone my reflection in mirrored detail, blinding in the revelation. i call melodic words, but anything i scream will be swallowed by this water, this darkness; consumed by the lack of knowledge or understanding, of how to live and be alive, how to existence and thrive. on occasions i look for help on the other side, but the lights of your self assured superiority shy me away. i’ll flock to the darkness, undefined like a bird and hide in the nest of what i do know and understand, for that keeps me comfort as i lay here tonight. like a lullaby in the soundless night, i’m kept warm by the boundaries of my knowledge. for the world is hollow and the sky is infinite; and i am miniscule and insignificant. such wandering thoughts keep me awake at night.

always where i need to be

"i miss talking to you." and while things used to be so good, they aren't actually that bad now. last night was lovely, i reconnected with so many people i'd lost touch with. i love how even when you're drunk, you can communicate friendship and ties. and how a simple reminder of the strength of those ties can find its way home with you, in the form of beau's mexican taco hat. ha. although honestly, i've been consistently losing friends ever since december, until all i had left was a core group of school friends. and while they are lovely, its still lonely when i wanted to go to a show, or do something crazy. i'm hopeful that this will last.

hollow crown - architects.

my feelings were never receptive.

its times like these that i contemplate my monotonous existance. and i'm hiding out in my room, shunning any form of communication or company. my brother has friends over, they don't even notice me. i'm like a ghost today, skimming through walls and lurking in dark corners. tonight will be interesting to say the least, my ability to socialise is decaying by the minute. i should just become a recluse. i just don't know how to deal in times like these, with people like these. i was like this last year, and somehow i survived so easily. i'm treading water but i don't want to drown. thank fuck i'm a decent swimmer.

halfway

its so awkward how terrible i am at social interaction. i have my old best friend's 18th on saturday night, and everytime i think about it, i feel sick to the stomach. i just can't do this. i don't know how or when i got so pathetic, but i really don't know how i'll be able to show up without spending the whole night in a dark corner. i just hate the way i am, sometimes. its the simplest things that trip me up, like breathing or walking in a straight line. no one else ever has trouble, or even bothers to think. i overthink. everything's just so hilariously awkward, sometimes to the point of ridiculous. tomorrow should be lovely, but i don't quite know what to wear. photos are becoming exhausting and consuming my free time, some days i just want to quit.

when i move, i'm flailing now

i'm sitting here, rugged up like a rockstar with the heater up to the max. i'm drinking hot chocolate and doing my 365, listening to transmission by the getaway plan, contemplating and wasting time. i'm going to bake brownies soon. i'm in a good state of mind, i have to say. and you know what? right now, i feel more like myself than i have in days. this simple serenity, of enjoying your own company when winter rages on outside. its times like these that there's no place i'd rather be. i'm even looking forward to work this afternoon, i love being at the library when its dark and rainy. its like a whole another world, co-existing yet cut off from the maniacal rage of real life. it's just books and lovely people who aren't illiterate. it seems to be the only aspect of my life that revolves around pure, simple conversation. when the only focus is letting the time pass by; letting words carry you to different worlds where worries and bothers are d&m'ed to death. and the worst ramification of these conversations is being banished to non fic, and then overthinking everything.

jeniferever carries me to another world where everything is lovely.
i just want to meet a nice boy. its like we're all stuck in this rut where we can't break routine, and our words confirm this. i can't get past this, because no one else will let me. we've talked it to death. we've analysed to death. it's dead, okay? okay. now let's all move on.

from the clothes i wear, you'd think i'd be from the circus.

five.

conversation.
that is all i need.
not communication; i can deal without that.
but conversation, makes the time fucking pass.
the days begin to blur into each other, one more less til everything changes forever. it's kind of disorientating.

to quote la dispute/bukowski (at length)
"sure, i know that you are tired of hearing about it: but most repeat the same theme over and over again. it's as if they were trying to refine what seems so strange and off and important to them. it's done by everybody, because each must work out what is before them over and over again. because that is their personal tiny miracle. like now as like before, and before i have been listening to symphony after symphony from this radio. it makes me realize that certain people now long dead were able to transgress graveyards and traps and cages and bones and limbs: in tiny rented rooms i was struck by miracles.

the flesh covers the bone and they put a mind in there; and sometimes a soul and the women break vases against the walls and the men they drink too much and nobody ever finds the one: but keep looking crawling in and out of beds. flesh covers the bone and the flesh searches for more than flesh.

there is a loneliness in this world so great that you can see it in the slow movement of the hands of a clock. people so tired, mutilated, either by love or no love. people just are not good to each other. we are afraid. our educational system tells us that we can all be big winners, but it hasn't told us about the gutters or the suicides. or the terror of one person aching in one place; alone, untouched, and unspoken to.

people are not good to each other. people are not good to each other. i suppose they never will be. i don't ask them to be. but sometimes I think about it. there must be a way. surely, there must be a way

there's no chance at all: we are all trapped by fate. nobody ever finds the one. nobody ever finds the one. there's no chance at all: we are all trapped by fate. who put this brain inside of me? it says that there's a chance. it's kept the rope from my throat; maybe it will loosen yours.

the city dumps fill. the junkyards fill. the graveyards fill. nothing else fills."

simply amazing.

you're so naive, you're so

i feel bad for discarding people, i feel horrible for undermining them. i'm also glad people still try in this day and age. it seems rare. at least some aspects of existance i can count on. i fell into a hole last year, and i couldn't get out. this year, i'm much better at standing on my own two feet, quite averse to the notion of dependency. dependent becomes such an ugly word.

and after being such a heinous bitch, i'm surprised people even still care. it's kind of heartwarming to know, that people will be there. even if in the past they haven't, its the here and now that really matters, right?

i feel like i'm recycling overused and overstated phrases. i guess that's language nowadays; originality does not exist anymore. everything has been done, and done to death. words are degraded to cliches, cliches are cringeworthy. everything i say is just stock phrases collated together prettily, to sound intelligent when really the words have been reduced to no meaning at all. its time like these that i wonder why i even bother, really.

toma has a new drama! kyaaa.

likes.

i'll tell you what i like?
i like long bus rides by myself on the 901. particularly today, where i spent approximately 2 hours commuting to/from ringwood. i like making the back corner my haven, and putting my belongings around me as a barrier. i like singing along to blink 182 and the kooks and disregarding the looks i receive. i like observing the people, and the way they exist. i like taking photos out the window, the disarray that the wintry weather has caused on the roads. i like watching the world go by, through rain splattered windows. i like the cleanliness and the warmth of the heating, and the friendly lights that wink at me. i like the isolation that i feel, in my own little 901 heated, clean bus world. on the way home, particularly, i like driving into darker, rainier weather, noting how at four pm the sky is dark and consuming, the headlights from the cars reflecting and blinding and lighting the way. i like the harsh contact of winter's embrace. i like the memories of this bus, the countless times i've cried on it, contrasted with the vague memories of another lifetime, with other friends. something that i've left behind, so far behind that i barely recognise who i used to be, and the life i used to have.

i also quite like rollerblading.

thirteen.

love and hate get thrown around so carelessly. family is so underappreciated. friends are so overrated. boys are just ridiculous. year twelve is a overexaggerated nightmare. dependency is weak. creativity is stifled in every fucking sense. mathematics is a chore. happiness is unnattainable. disappointment is unavoidable. feelings are disregarded in every sense. /whinge

oh hey alex.

whispers

the people who walk in the straightest lines, they hate abstract concepts. they detest anything they can't visualise. they dislike anything remotely imaginative, anything slightly non-stifling in the narrow black-and-white dominated world they reside in. man. i feel as though i'm drowning in crowds of these people, pressing up on either side of me until its hard to breathe. anytime i try to break from the norm, walk my own zigzag path that crosses in multiple different directions; i'm pushed into a box, four sides and black views. all these people i'm surrounded by constantly, day in day out, me they don't understand, and them i have no hope of ever comprehending. i detest the way they try to make me one of them. my drum is beating at an irregular kaleidoscopic fashion, similar to the pattern of my thoughts. yours, his, hers, all of you, have no variation whatsoever.

somedays, i just want to get out.