May it Be A final Fantasy.

Well, I'm obviously just great at Keeping friendships :P

her name was that of a flower and she is so awful to many.

or, so they say.

I don't beleive it.

Because I'm the one who's done wrong

the last six months, sorry, seven, have been the best and worst of my whole life.

I know, it's crazy?

But now she hates me, and thinks I'm obsessed about her.

WHich I'm NOT.

That's actually a really long story, which I will tell... at least some of.

I've come out very different.

Last December I was a shy, naive, geeky little kid.

I knew nothing of poetry, or reading books.

I did not care for composition, didn't really want to learn a real instrument.

I didn't care terribly for philosophy.

But then, she began to talk to me.

Then there were books, and words.

I began to do more than just lip-sync in cantala.

She gave me the confidence to turn up for the first day of school.

And to choir.

Because she said something I stopped drinking, that night.

and then I tried to kill myself.

Several times, infact.

LIA I AM NOT EXAGGERATING I DONT COUNT THAT THURSDAY

anyways....

I was in the mental hospital/ kiddies phyc unit.

And getting better.

I missed her at first.
But not for loing.

I was really gettinbg better,
 then just before I was due to start taking meds.

She came to visit me.

It was fantastic. She even told me that we were friends, in words.

But then after she left, I fell right back down to where I was before.

I was stmbling on from that point, I only held on so I could see her again.
And so she could write me a letter.

Then I worked out that would not happen.

And it did turn into a bit of an obsession, she became not a person but a little paper doll I could keep on a shelf in my mind,

but I knew this was wrong.

So I began to get serious with the self harming.

It was a punishment for becoming attached to her.

I wouldn't even allow myself to speak to her.

And it worked.

Second to last week of the term, that broke.

And then I wasn't.

Between a missinterpretation of social cues, she hates me.

But for a while, it was good.

She was going to make every one behave normally when I came back to school, after my first admission. She told me a few things I can't ever repeat. She said hi to me in the hallway.

And I abused that.

There are many good memories, more than the bad, I think.

But I won't write them here.

Not now.

I'm not sober and I don't want to scare her.

But I'm not obsessed.

And it was a cute friendship.

Even if it never would have lasted.

That was when it all went pear-shaped.

When she told me she would end it in four months, my choice or not. (we were in singPore airport)

And all though the year,  I was always ducking certain questions.

Becasue the truth was I was afraid to loose her.

Maybe if I'd confessed five months ago, told her: I don't want to never see you again", straight up this would be less screwy.

If you read this LB, I'm sorry.

If only I could convince you I'm not obsessed.
And that I don't love you
or that I don't think of you all the time.

But, because you were a role model

(like it or not)

you changed me.

So thank-you.

Even if I am going to die.

Thank-you.

And I hope your life will become fantastic.
 

Believing in Awesome (follow up post)

I didn't even know how to spell it.

Believe.

Not until then.
I used to believe it.
But not after, either.

The world is full of darkness, and awesome is no such thing. There are no people, not here. Just masks, millions of masks hovering about the cities of our decimated and dying planet, there is no real and never will be.

Real? What is real?

Tell me, stranger, what is it?

I will say one day, I will add not to be

You confuse me and sometimes amuse me.

Why do you all not hate me?

It will be easier, with the hate.

I hate me.

I will never believe that "everyone is awesome"
only after I'm dead,
will I be able to believe that.

Because it is only then
I will not be
a part
of everyone.

No one's going to read this, true.

But I didn't think anyone would, anyway

Goodbye, poetboy

the sun setting
in the south

worlds gone by in whisper

we stand
on opposite sides
of the glass

Embers float down from the sky,
to mingle with tears before the blood splattered earth.

Another time, another place,
another lifetime

perhaps

we'll meet.

So many perhapses
so little time.

Keep the flame alive,
good soul

let the keys resume play
tomorrow

Robert

Before the blood splattered earth
we stand.

Tears mingle with sweat upon our weary brows
as we bury the past
in mist.

A world of tombs,
within our hearts.

Here we stand
hand in hand

and wait

what do we wish for
come the midnight hour?

do we tear at the tentacles of mist
that now ensnare us both?

Or do we simply stand

and let the seas of time
wash us
both
away

fire

I hear the words of a ghost
a word of power is uttered

and I
am disarmed

through the dying light

I see a face
wreathed in white

The earth so covered in blood and tears
begins to wash away the years,
of pain.

Tonight
the world is renewed

in the black fire
of words.

To Emma

Hey Emma.

There's no point me hiding you, not anymore.

And Em, I just wanna say, how could you?

Do you have ANY IDEA of the tension between me and my parents?

Obviously not.

I'd rather go to the councellor every day for a YEAR than have then try to talk to me.

Our "relatiopnship" is built on a bed of lies, and mixed in is misstrust and awkwardness.
The whole thing is held together by old bubble gum.

I think I like that other girl better, the one who went to the shrink.

Despite the fact it was a total waste of time and I had to tell the shrink the same thing I've been telling her for the last two weeks.

Yeah, you may love your mom, and you may have a beautiful relationship with her, but not all of us have or want that.

Emma, I need summat I go to my friends.

Yeah, you weren't my friend at the right time to realize that.

But my parents may as well not exist for all I care.

They're no good AT ALL in sticky situations. They always make it worse. And worse. And worse.

And, true enough, I don't have many friends nowadays, or people I consider my friends, at least.

But you've gotta make the right choices.

If I thought there was something wrong with you, I'd go to someone I knew could help you without pushing you deeper.

Because that's what happened.

I got pulled even further under than ever before.

And true, it's unlikely you'll ever find this page.

But if you do, that's the truth in it.

Don't go tattling to momsie again, like last time she'll tell my parents and I won't even be ALIVE to tell you off a second time if that happens.

I'm sorry.

I'm sure your intentions were good.

But not this time.

And why?
Why the heck d'ya do it?

See ya' in Science.

TypoQueen.

Pass Me By

Frequently,
you flit across my mind.

Embers float down from the sky,
to mingle with tears before the blood splattered earth.

Another time, another place,
another lifetime

perhaps

we'll meet.

Perhaps the gap will not be too great,
that we are friends.

So many perhapses
so little time.

But action is not an option.

I can only watch
as you pass
me by.

Mom and Dad, fuck off before I brain you

I'm going to have to risk it.

It's just too much to friggin copy and paste.

Wish me luck?

A slurr of Stupid.

Staggering, spinning.

Go. To. Bed.

Clumping around the house, now where'd that bottle go?

The cork comes out with a satisfying pop and she licks her lips hungrily as the deep, red liquid sloshes around the glass.

Staggering back to the screen, the screen.

She smacks her lips as she takes yet another gulp.
yummoh, much better than the brandy.

Though utterly smashed she can still remember that liquid fire, how many times it made her retch.

But it's all gone now, that foul brown stuff taken forty millilitres at a time.

She doesn’t care anymore, not what alice nor what flair will think.

It's party time on highway twelve, and she's zipping around in a world of confusing colours.

Her vision blurs, and the keyboard is slipping away.

Slipping, sliding, nearly there.

Collapsing on the bed, advice taken too late.

I wonder when they'll find my corpse she wonders, as the world slowly goes black.

Morning comes and the world is a blur.

She vaguely remembers throwing up in the kitchen sink, and why is she not wearing her pyjamas?

Thumping head, sick to the stomach;
achey longing feelings for the absence of sad.

But now it's all intensified, she's not flying anymore.
far from it.

Avoiding her, nearly all day, and thankfully no words are said as they brush past each other in a corridor.

Please don't hate me, she cries.

Awesome sucks.

How can I get drunk fast enough?

Block out the pain.

Dy'a know that today I was singing along to the cantala girls in my head, rolling in the deep?
And I was going to go home and slit my wrists? For real?

But then I got on the bus and poof.
I was sad, not angry.

I have a bottle of brandy. and it's great company.

My mom is a ninja and I love her.
How can I get drunk?
And my real name is Anna.

Broken Bottle

A shattered bottle,and a mouthful of broken glass.

Pounding head,
loud music.

Sexy, sexy Christopher.

Too many lists.

Silver in bathroom
makes more red lines on paper
which has not been blank
for quite some time.

"Make a wish at midnight", she whispers.

Sitting on stone steps.
Rainbow girl is down below,
unknowst being watched.

Party goers hustle and hullaballoo

The city lights melt.

The ocean, is black.
And the sky grey.

The moon watches as a broekn bottle is passed back and forth.
"You shouldn't be doing this" she wisely whispers.

Secrets and lies
spilled.

They're not friends, and they don't want to be.

Sore all over,
battered and broken,
it is to the voices of flowers she falls into sleep.

"Alice", they whisper," what have you done?"

Of british polly pockets, groovy girls, fish, music, strange blue creatures and what was a beautiful friendship.

Hey, Bernsie.
Long time no see.
Longer time no talk.
And were we ever really friends, or was it just another figment of my way-wacked imagination?

Nawh, we were definitely friends.
Because, little do you know I mourned you for a year and a half like you were dead,
not sitting four seats down from me in math.

And I'm just writing this to say;

I never hated you.
No matter how much I said it, when asked in games of truth, it was a lie.

I never hated you, not really; I just missed you desperately.

But not anymore.
It's been a long eighteen months, and now, finally, I'm ready to put this behind me.
I have my eyes set on new horizons, in my eyes your sun has set.

But as well as writing to say goodbye, I write to say thanks; and to pay tribute to our friendship that was epic while it lasted.

I think it's a shame, that we never visited the stock cars a second time. Remember that tee-shirt I wanted to buy, and how we timed you running halfway around the track and back again?

Remember our "make believe" games with groovy girls and miniature, british polly pockets;
there was the orphanage and the clock tower; I always played the angel and you the teenyest tiniest one of them all. She was a little girl in a blue dress, and one time we thought that I'd lost her, but we found her again.

I remember having my first ever taco at your Thorndon (?)  house,
there we watched the world through your dream catcher and played barbie airplanes. That was when I discovered your email address, which I've never forgotten, never.

There was that time, we stayed up late playing on your playstation in that room which was not your room;
it was in that apartment above the felix cafe.
Then your sister and her friend came in and we went to their room where we played marco polo and then had a wee dance party;
the music was up too loud and your mom came storming in.

I was the only one who made it to my hiding place in time; under the desk. You didn't have enough time to jump into the closet, and I just sat there, quivering like a jelly while you all took your punishment. I'll never stop feeling bad for that moment.

I think I trusted you, and you were the one I told about any crap at that awful school; and though I was at the worst of my bratty self you never complained, once.

I think that it was that bratty behavior that ended our friendship, in the end.
 But we haven't spoken in forever, so I guess I'll never know.

I used to desperately long to be your friend again, I felt I would've done anything just to have an eye to eye conversation with you.

I lost the mini pac-man ghost key ring you got me from a mystery box, I think I got it because you were staying at my place for a double sleep over while your parents were out. One day, I turned around to open my back-pack, and there was just a screw dangling from a clip. I searched and searched, and then felt like crying. It was one of my last keep-sakes from you, and I'd lost it. And I'll never get another one, I don't think, what are the odds?

Remember making up our own Collie+Bernsie version of the phineas and ferb theme song? Remember making up that dance to that song which had the line : "and the love shines over the horizon"

I remember singing next to you in choir, and how we loved that groovy song that Miss Manning had given us to learn. I remember how MM wasn't your favorite person in the world, to say the least.

I remember treating you like absolute crap almost all the time, and you were always a star of a friend.

I remember us both learning Na'vi, practicing our movement by playing with my bow and arrows, hurdling over the couch.
You were Pam'tseo and I was Neynat, we were friends forever.

I remember our parents saying that our friendship would last a long time.
It's quite funny how wrong they were.
It's also the saddest thing ever.

I remember, when discussing high schools, you told me you were going to East because of the music department;
and I was to go to Girls, but in a moment of rashness I promised to you that I would go to East too.

Do you remember all that?

Do you remember that night I felt sick at your party and had to go home? My pirate party?  My absolute crap/fail paintball party? Where I did a kammo run?

We once took a shower in matching outfits, just for the hell of it. We went to the old arcade and spent gagillions of tokens on that deep sea game, the best fun ever.

Remember flippa ball, and ballet? How we'd bus down to our separate ballet schools together, but before we hit the station we'd stop at subway and take turns to buy the pair of us cookies. Those were the days; sunshine, cookies and dirty ballet slippers.

And we bussed to flippa ball with Alice and Simone, bumping down the bus, stowing our bags under seats and trying to balance in the isle. Buying four-cokes-for-a-dollar, at the time it seemed a great deal! Remember playing tag in the kiddies pool? Me shrieking in the cold water of the big pool?

Remember hiding with nicky boy up on the roof from the grown ups? With proper supplies and a shelter and everything.

Remember yelling obscene and rude words from that same roof, hearing the echo in the valley below and cackling wildly, we felt like such rebels back then.

You wanted to be a marine biologist and I wanted something new everyday.

I hardly know you
I hardly knew you
But it felt like I did.

And it's only now I see how brilliant you really are, in contrast to the mundane being that is I. You get excellence, I pass, you win a prize, I try not to be laughed at, you're pretty, I'm ugly.

I remember that when I first though I was fat, you were the first person to say that I was being stupid.

I was never this low all the time, never this sad, so when did it all begin?

It began by me writing that post about you: Left

The the floodgates burst open and I've been spiraling downwards ever since.

And I was told to read "Uglies", you were right, it IS a good book :)

But what does it matter, me writing all this?
You'll never read it.

Admittedly, the last time I said that the person in question did read it, and my life became even more suckish and silly.

But I just wrote this to say goodbye,
and to remember better times,
and to pay tribute
to what was once
an epic
friendship.

(There are a gagillion more memories, and I'll do a follow up post if other people comment (when is that going to happen this side of the century?) )

Forever Sleep

Dangit, girl; stop feeling so low!
Life has done nothing to you, all your pain is self inflicted.
Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem.
You are not a mistake, not wrong.
Life is beautiful, tomorrow will all be beautiful.

She whispers to me, and I nearly believe her. But almost is not the same as.
Because then I remember that she is not real, as are none of the others.

And if they are not there, then who is?

Who is?
Who is.
Who is...


To sleep forever would be nice.

Better than nice.

It would be perfect.
Perfect.

The one thing I did not know how to achieve.
But now I do.

So hush little ones have no fear. The man in the moon is the engineer...

Two days to decide.

She only has two days,
to make that crucial decision.

But what happens, if the candle is actually snuffed out for good?

Being sent away is not the same as being... gone.

Will they notice, she wonders yet again, if she doesn't show on the first day of school?

Could today have been the last day she would ever get to see RainbowGirl and Alice?

The last day of seeing the school, the down, all things which -though familiar- were never held dear?

She wipes a tear from her eye and begins once more to hack away at her wrists.

She could end it, right now.
Cut a little too deep and a little too hard.

Softly sing as her lifeblood drains away,
pooling around her sneakers.

She acted like such a dimwit today.
No wonder they all hate her, and think no more of her than a water fountain kid; she deserves it.

She'll miss them.
But they won't miss her.

If she doesn't do it, they'll forget her for sure.

Being forgotten.
Much, much worse than forgetting.

"Ow".
She looks down, and tries to figure out what hurt so much.

It doesn't usually hurt, not this much.

She softly sighs, and puts the blade away.
They don't know.

And never will.
It's a pity that she has to keep her arms covered now.

She liked wearing just tee shirts and jeans.

None of these too-thick winter hoodies.

They don't know how many times she wanted to leave the music room, go into the hall way and slash at her wrists.

They don't know how she didn't feel anything, she wasn't actually happy, she did it all trying to feel.

But it didn't work.

And just now.

Hacking away.

It only made her sadder.

Don't expect this post to last 24hours

Well, it's wedensday the twenty fifth, and I should really be asleep.

The sky looked like cat-sick tonight.

I wonder whether it will rain up-chucked cubes of dried-out salmon tomorrow?

Today was yet another madsadday.

There was a blue plastic handled knife.

But that went away for five minutes, while the parcels were being opened and photographed and put on facebook.

Then snicker snack was heard again.

Well fuck this.

Fuck this selfish life, and damn feeling nothing all the time.

A long, thin scratch now runs down one cheek.

And hey, it didn't even hurt.

Raise your glass to pissing "friends" off.

Confuse everyone with your words of sorrow, "you used to be so bubbly" they said.

Switching tenses, constantly.

Unused lunch money.

Rice and cameo creams.

Damn being put down, damn her being moved up.

So, so low.

So, Charlotte, you got your beard trimmed, it looks very distinguished.

Distinguished is a very long word, I've just realized.

Writing whatever comes to mind, babbling.

Leaving the door slightly ajar.

Three bloody x's.

Left gets all the pain.

Late night walks.

Writing by the light of a street lamp.

Chasing a cat under the neighbours house.

A spider in my Hair.

raNdoM cApITaliSaTioN

My life is a mess.

Don't expect this post to last 24hours.

And don't even THINK of "tattling"

I wish :p

It's sick.

Sick and wrong.

But the price of forgetting,
even for a moment
is high.

At first nothing appears to have happened.

Then she digs harder
and gives a grim smile of satisfaction
as a small red line appears.

Repeating the motions, over and over,
until what once was a blank page

is smattered in red scribbles.

The pain, intense at first,

slowly fades.

The music heightens, urging her on.

She dosen't care.
Dosen't care who might see.

It's the only way to forget...well....everyone.

Their dissapionted faces vanish into the fog
with every strike.

It's too late now.
Fuck them.

And as a solitary tear drips of her nose

she raises the plastic handle again
preparing, for the next strike.

One step closer to the edge

Snicker snak
swish swish

little red lines
on white almost paper

small blue blade unleashes
a torrent of ruby red orbs

little beads,
lined up quietly
like small children
on their first day of school.

Rainbow girl glares
fat girl wilts under her gaze

nail girl is not much better

swaying
so tired
wanna sleep.

Now.

a bit Of a let Down

Lying,
sprawled,
among pillows, pills and year old magazines

there is a bottle on the desk
and she rolls a small red-and-white number between two fingers

waiting
thinking
hard.

She slowly, and painfully levers herself upwards
and brings her aching body to rest against the window pane,
the glass cool against her flushed cheek.

A tear slowly traces her face, then drips down onto the sill.

Cracks, spread from where the tear fell
they seem to grow,
ugly and black, crisscrossing like spider webs across the walls.

Squares lift themselves up from the table,
and the elements float out of the window,
the pink, green and blue dancing away.

A plane glides smoothly into the airport,
but it suddely disappears,
into a blurr of coloured  lights
that rise up to meet it.

She drops down again,
and her hands caress the letter
she runs her fingers over and over the inky paper,
and the last of her fear evaporates.

She is ready now,
"I'm sorry", she whispers,
as the darkness finally envelops her.

Fiction/utter tosh

Still waiting
for that letter that will never come.

For like the second of that astronaut pair,
You don't follow my foot steps as they appear in the sand,
only I yours.

Too many times you cross my mind
Too many times I see your name
written in silver stars
words dancing across the ceiling

I wait for you
every night
for the little green light that is your presence
to wink on

And then again I wait
wait through the cold, lonely hours of the early morning
for that light to once again go out.

I know you'll never talk to me
why do I even try?

But there's always that small flicker
of hope.

to lose what was never there

I've lost my muse.

In this world of tears and paper-cuts, my muse is all I have.
Or, should I say HAD; for now it is depressingly absent.

"No muse, no life,
words a jumble.
It drives me nuts to hear you mumble"

I used to blog everyday, but my creative essence has utterly deserted me.

The ink has run dry and the shaft has snapped in a bajillion pieces.

The sun has not just hidden behind a cloud, it has disappeared entirely, and my black sky now has no twilight.

Ches watches over me no longer.

The doll maker is coming, with all his ruins; I am to be destroyed from within before I've even started.

Rainbow girl is not at the tea party, yet I mourn her expected absence.

And it is time for the final shock, when the sweet clink of coins is heard.

But the screen blocks my view of the mirror, so which do I exchange for the other?

I am lost,
and falling.

Falling out of madness.