tell me that you can't sleep
press your forehead against the window
tiny rivers of condensation
cool breath painting pictures in the glass
lie there pitifully in your underwear
pale tangle of white cotton and trembling lower lip

outside there is another life
past your haunting eyes and self destructive hold is opportunity
happiness even
you raise your chin proudly
obnoxious
i could no more walk out that door than you could let me go

sigh
swallow me in your sea of limbs
hopeful face and slender arms outstretched
you are the eternal flame that flickers over gravestones
impossible
your sadness burns on in an endless light

and even though i stay
i know that your flame ignites the air you exist in
and casts everyone else into darkness

sadness

since the day i found you
nicotine stained teeth and unsteady hands
you were lonely
so was i
loneliness is a terrible thing
seeping into your skin
sinking its teeth into your heart
like a punch in the stomach that chokes the breath right out of your lungs and leaves you helpless and gasping for air
with loneliness comes an overwhelming sadness and with this sadness all kinds of terrible things are to come.


to leave behind, misplace, forget
staring blindly at blurred text
tangled in this indescribable light-limbed, heavy hearted whirlwind of bitterness
it's deathly silent
you won't stop rocking back and forth
i feel light headed
we were just lonely

it's kind of hard to explain
the way that loneliness swallows you
the way you wake up in the morning and already the dark haze of day has already wrapped itself around your gut, twisting tightly
light taunts you
day mocks you
night for all it's effort, offers little comfort
if loneliness was a sea, i would surely drown

you sit there in in your undone tshirt, dirty hair dangling limply past your nipples. Chipped red polish adorns trembling fingertips and i stare at your tiny hands in silent agony.
Dirty pretty little thing.
You were so out of touch, so revered. I put you on a pedestool, my god, i worshipped you.

You stare in the mirror, agonising over the size of your thighs. I have to sit on my hands so i won't grab you and run my fingers over every inch of your tiny self.
It hurts that i can't open your eyes. You stare at yourself so intently, raking critical gazes over every inch of your unblemished skin. I want to grab you by the shoulders and shake you until you cry.

pale, coral pout. Pretty snub nose. Smattering of freckles dancing prettily across your cheekbones.
You light a cigarette and i cry quietly into my pillow at night.
i thought you were invincible.

Absent mindedly twirling an auburn lock around your finger, we both pretend we don't notice the strands come easily undone, fluttering uselessly to the floor. Your bottom lip trembles.

i reach out and kiss it.

You lie there unblinking and now it's my lip that trembles.
pourquoi

it starts out so minor, so insignificant.
Tiny shards of glass that rain down upon your skin upon a loss, a heartache, a goodbye.
Tiny insignificant shards of glass that over time slowly splinter their way through your flesh, stabbing your soul and wounding your spirit.'
You stand there and you smile, feelings painted on skin, cheery grin pasted from one broken cheek to the other. Open me up.

One quick smile from you and invisible ropes snake around my throat, twisted tongues leaving wet trails of inadequacy and self loathing from my earlobe to my collarbone.
reminders.
One tug of the rope and i could fall into an endless hole in the earth. I taunt you to push me in, to pull that rope with all that you have. I beg and i whine and i taunt and i dare and all i want more than anything in the whole goddamn world is for you to push me into that fucking hole and never give me the chance to try and stop you.
i know you wouldn't though.
If i thought you actually would, i wouldn't ask.

Something is always missing, of course. But it shouldn't be, it really, really shouldn't be. There's something wrong even when nothing is wrong. Because i'm obsessed and vain and selfish and lazy. It used to be one of my favorite quotes; All writers are, at their core, vain selfish and lazy. It's true. I can feel it in the weight of my eyelids now, a body that wants nothing more than to lie still and go through the same motions of today, tomorrow, subtle variations that don't play to the right soundtrack and words spelled out in the air in invisible light paintings. Big tipped paintbrushes soaked and bleeding into the air, letters that nobody will ever read. Because it's a front, it's all merely a front. I'm so good at creating these facades, these false illusions of happiness that seem to radiate out from every smile and fingertip, guzzling jubilation until it bubbles up from my chest, spilling out and coating everything around me in merriment. But it's only a front if i let it be. Sometimes it's true and i believe with every little piece of myself that this is right and this is it and there's not the slightest bit of doubt or fear or regret or anything other than exhilaration in knowing, just knowing that it's completely and utterly right. Right now i don't know. Those are powerful words, those three. I don't know. Loaded despite their will power and destiny ripped away in a repetition of a trite easy way out. I don't know. Fuck sake, no more of this. No more of this uncertain cry from something more. Just fucking do something. This isn't about inspiration, this isn't about waiting for the right moment or the right time, rather jumping into the rain wet and cold and unexpected fast in rivers on bare skin and soaking through cotton. This is impulsiveness and elation and freedom and the thrill of life delicious on my tongue like unexpected orange bites in dark cocoa chocolate, like green tea scented soap or silk covers against skin flushed from a shower. Unrealistic expectations and burning desires that clench desperately at thin air, great tides of pent up insecurity and emotion churning in the pit of my stomach, clawing my insides to shreds. i'm so obsessed with this concept of reality, with these big words and ideas that don't mean anything. Not really. I'm always aspiring to this unattainable something, without knowing quite what it is. So i sit here, epic battles raging violently within me as i stare blankly out the window. All the passion and the anger and the violence and the insecurity and misery and the desperation, it's all being wasted. All the deliberation and great debates over what constitutes art renders me speechless, because this is it, we are living, breathing, lustful examples of art, we are walking emotion and life drinks deeply from our misery before churning us round and spitting us out. All this agonizing over unhappiness without realising that this is it, this is life

all of your pieces fill up other people's holes, but they don't fill up your own.

months blur together, days crawling lethargically across one another in an endless miserable stretch. My mind is drained of reason and my conscience decides to look the other way while i trudge dutifully through life, pushing aside anyone who ever implied they might care.
why
i really couldn't say
Some people have defining moments in their lives, a tragic accident or a horrific break up that left them distraught, ripping their hearts out and shredding their insides.

i don't have any excuse.
It's like i woke up one morning and i had disappeared, a cloaked figure robbing me of my happiness.

Shedding all emotion leaves you empty, starved of feeling. It's nice, you know. When someone rises up to hurt you and you stand there blankly as they rain insult upon insult on your cold, hardened skin. It's nice not to hurt, to be able to look the other way as the people around you suffer.

Eventually though, the world we build for ourselves starts to crumble. Walls we built from the ground slip through our fingers and we sit helplessly in confusion and misery as our defense mechanism slows to a halt.
It's almost amusing how much it confuses us.
how can we be hurting?
we never let anyone in, we never opened up. Our lives were foolproof.
spirits laugh as we flounder pathetically in our own misery.
The deepest wounds we get aren't the ones from other people hurting us. They are the wounds we give ourselves when we hurt other people.
Being empty doesn't mean that if you're held underwater you won't drown.

faded and thin, like a letter too often read

grief is a house
where the doors no longer let you
in
or out

We blurred at the edges, it and me. Together we became one big seeping, crawling thing.

sadness hums quietly through my insides as i stare blankly at the wall.
Sometimes i feel like i'm drowning. I'm kicking and screaming whilst i splash hopelessly about in giant oceans of sadness. Giant bodies of water that seem to open up from below and swallow me whole.
I scream for help, of course.
Nobody hears me though. If they do, they don't let on.

of course.

I try and make sense of it all in my head sometimes. The way those fleeting moments of happiness can lift you up so high, yet all it really does is create a further distance to fall.
I wanted you. I wanted you more than I've wanted anything else in my life.
(lying on your bed smoking and giggling as you sang to me, in between kisses)

i spent my whole life searching for happiness and suddenly there it was. Staring out at me as i tumbled from one giddy day to the next, smothered in love and buttered with affection.
I drop my hairbrush on the floor and it clatters loudly. I open the fridge too quickly and the milk rocks precariously on the edge of the shelf before spilling to the floor. I mess up.
You stand silently on the other side of the room.
i'm standing in the ocean and it swallows me up.

of course.

if sadness was a sea, i would surely drown

you're hurting me.
it hurts.
i am neither here nor there.

You smile obliviously, eyes focused as you stack shelf upon shelf. You chatter on obliviously, loud voiced as you  light fire after fire. You turn to me for comfort, miserable as you drive knife after knife through my chest.
we are not friends.
we are not lovers.

We're both reaching for the remote and you're laughing and i'm laughing and we're both laughing and  happiness is enshrouding us and our skin is hot with excitement.
You tumble into the darkness.
i am caught. Balanced on the very edge of the cliff, hanging in the balance between light and dark.
You don't want me. The darkness pulls at me anyway.
You want me. The light is familiar.

We are not friends.
we are not lovers.

We both tumble forward into darkness.

stars are blind

It hurts, but people don't understand that of course. Their eyes flicker and they watch the sad and frail figure trudge silently down the stairs. They shake their heads and mouth quiet conversations about misguidance to each other when they think we can't hear.
It's so frustrating that they stare so intently, yet they still can't see.
Misguidance is everywhere. Misguidance is nothing. Misguidance is irrelevant.
Self loathing is so blatant. It stares at you in the mirror, glaring in disgust at all your ugliness out there for everyone to see.
Hatred cradles you.

Self hatred wraps itself around your core and takes one agonizing bite at a time until you're crippled from the inside.

You were the tape for the holes that pierced my heart. The tape that wound its spell around my soul and lulled me into false security. You exposed me. Ripped open my flesh and let the world see how my insides worked.
Then you left.

the ocean grew between us

it hurts even though it shouldn't. We fucked everything up without even meaning to. You saunter off into the distance and leave me trailing behind, mere mortal being slipping silently between life and nothingness. I am the light behind your eyes, the space between your thighs, daylight shining through. You used to write our story in the sky, sweet words studded with stars and comets. Our story used to be great.

Now we

are

Empty spaces. Meaningless words dotted in the air like crumbs. Full stops dunked in misery and comfort coffee.
you and i and everything that lies between us.
time plus eternity.

the bottom of the ocean

flames ignite in my head from dizziness and i could collapse from sheer exhaustion. The merry go round is spinning faster and faster, weaving it's cold fingers around my core and dragging me down as it turns. Sixteen bites, marching down my throat like little ants, leaving their sticky footprints in my mouth as reminders. I shut my eyes and stars collide behind my eyelids, my mind slowly crumbling. I can't breathe. My heart clangs loudly in my chest and i can hear the voices in my head raging back and forth. One little bite won't hurt. The merry go round splinters and for a split second i hesitate, one, two mouthfuls away from bliss. The thick layer of hatred that envelopes my body groans and i sink to the floor, unable to carry the weight. I push one, two mouthfuls away. I wish you understood. I wish i could make you see what you've done to me.

it's a task laid out in front of me. Small bites crawling down my throat, sticking to my insides and hammering me with guilt upon every swallow. There is motion in my head and i can feel my sanity spiralling down, plummeting to the very soles of my feet where they seize up making my body immobile. I can't do it, i cannot sit here smiling and laughing as i overflow my insides. My breath is short and i can feel the food in my throat, punnishing me for hunger with every taste. There is a silent scream in my head as i choke back each morsel, drowning them in self hate. i want to be nothing

don't waste your youth growing up

it's like i'm standing in a room full of people, screaming my lungs out and nobody even looks up.

you're in my hiding spot

you can't depend on something that changes. Pinning all your hopes on something that spins away when the wind changes. I can't let you see me how i am underneath, underneath all the excess of skin and bone. You think you can see right through me, you think you can tell why i am the way i am. Of course you sit there on your pedestool and you shake your head while you watch me flounder in the water before i slowly sink under. You want to help, i know that. I just don't want to help myself.

elixir

Of course you left. You're not used to seeing everything disintegrate before your eyes the way i am. The way i can spend hours building up my life, block by block, only to have it crumble when i look in the mirror. When i rest my head on the door, my mind is swimming with chaos, and all i can acknowledge is that i'm drowning. You used to hold me up, drag my limp self from the stone studded ground and push me to the surface, but now without you, i'm swamped by the very thing i created. A fair ending, some would say.

mace spray

- boy and bear
- three green teas in the last hr oh well
- i feel like i'm trying so much harder in all my friendships than they are trying with me
-i fucking need to see her
-i'm so ocd about my nails, i can't let them chip the tiniest bit or i want to cry
-why does food even exist
-i'm so mad at myself for being weak
-i need to excercise
-i wish i could eat salad all the time
-i know it's in the past, but moving on is so hard sometimes
-perfection is just never going to be achieved
-i want it to be summer already
-i go to europe in a week
-i want to be thin for europe
-i want people to stare at me and envy my control
-i miss skins
it's not even summer but it's fucking hot in my bedroom all the time oh my word

i

i'm starting over. It's so comforting to look in the mirror and see the last shreds of the old me slipping away. I've been a little lost lately, to say the least, but i've finally found my way back.  The agony of feeling inadequate isn't something that just dissapears. It might lay low for a while, wallowing in the shadows, but it's always there, waiting for a chance to rear its pretty head and wind it's alluring noose around my throat. This time though, i'm going to dedicate myself, shed the insecure skin of times past and truly come out on top.

S I N K I N G

dream a little dream of me

- i had berry tea and green tea all day today, to distract myself from food
-i fucked up and ate toast and yoghurt anyway
- i'm proper annoyed at how i never paint my nails anymore
- i ditched my best friend at a party tonight
-i cried in a carfull of people tonight and i was just looking out the window hoping they wouldn't notice
-i've been coughing again jfgh my illness is back
-he didn't put xx's on the end of his msgs for the first time ever
-i thought i lost my phone for like 10 mins and i wanted to die
-my cat doesn't love me anymore i swear
-i tried to focus in church but all i could think about was getting a tan
-i miss her
-i sat in a bathtub and for some reason doing something stupid made me happy
- i really want some grapes and some watermelon idk
- i need to be healthy and excercise more so i feel cleaner and sadder//better
-i must be the only person in the world that is happier being sad
-i wish my hair was fucking lavender already
-i go to europe in like 25 days and im scared of my best friend and everyone finding other people they like more than me while im gone
-i wish i'd not had yoghurt this morning, i really do
-my old best friend slept with his ex gf tonight. why why why
-twitter has automatically updated to the new version ew
-im going to bed because i'm tired and there are actual rings under my eyes sigh
-i really fucking crave grapes or grapefruit omg

07/08/11

what the actual fuck is wrong with me. I managed to screw up the two good things i have going for me both in one night. I feel like the world is moving around me, spinning faster and faster, yet i'm stuck in the same place, immobile. I hate myself and what i've become with this raging passion. I want to dig my nails underneath the skin on my body and just shred it to bits. I don't though. I stay still and i just breathe in and out, over and over. Despite the cold, i have the fan on, so i'm shivering continuously. I don't turn it off though, i do it to myself on purpose. Some kind of fucked up punishment for being the person that i am. Sometimes, if i want to really scare myself, i'll think of before. Of how it used to be. Of how fucking close i was with the two of them and now how many oceans apart we are. It's terrifying. The distance between us. How i'm so far away now, maybe too far away to be saved when everything comes crashing down on me. The fan whirls faster, the rickety sound of the blades become a torturous metronome in my head until all i can feel is the blood whooshing through my veins, pounding beneath my temples and punishing me with every wave of pain. It's like i'm sinking.