Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Cassie's therapy video tag.

This is a tag that the lovely Erimentha began, and continues to post each month. It's based on a therapy video for a character in the tv show skins. If you haven't seen it i highly recommend you watch it or preferably the entire series. So thank-you to Erimentha for tagging me, I absolutely adore it and have enjoyed writing it.
As part of the tag I have to pass it on to three more bloggers that i like, so:
-Some girl because her words take my breath away
-Melee because she views the world in an incredible way
-Dandalily because even if she did one recently she is the most amazing blogger

Abracadabra, Wow!

I like boys with soft eyes and girls with wierd laughs.
I like textures
I like whispering
I like flowers with delicious aromas
I like different, exotic cultures
I like thinking big thoughts that make you feel sick with confusion
I like making others confused because i guess deep down i don’t want to be understood
I like laughing
I like the moments between waking and sleeping when the world is filled with possibilities
I like clouds
And poems
I like modesty
I like being told a boy likes you, no matter who it is.
I love thinking
Today I sat in a car for ten hours with my family, and my dad laughed deep, bellowing laughs and high, surprising laughs And my brothers and I tasted what it’s like to be a family again.

In some ways, I love everything.
Its less, its less of a thing to like, its less distinct, its less particular

I like things that I like but I love everything

There’s more choice in like

Cos even the worst things have things you love in them

I don’t know what you mean about things I hate

I hate materialism and racism
I hate sexism
I hate when people make jokes in a serious moment because they feel threatened by real emotions
I hate how unfair the world is and how oblivious some of its occupants are
I hate when people get torn up about things that are completely in their control
I hate when people get torn up about things that don’t matter
I hate how self-centred everyone is but in a way, I know I used to be am the same.
I hate feeling incompetent, especially when the only reason i do is because i compared myself to another
I hate how sometimes you get so carried away with thoughts or people or problems, that you lose yourself

I hate this, wow. . .Sorry.


your words,
    curl underneath my fingertips.

 as if to say
 perhaps one day
 you'll feel the same.

Wednesday, December 22, 2010


Tomorrow I'm going on a trip
and I don't know when I'll be back.

for a moment
I'll breathe again.

It's a Christmas Miracle.


Tuesday, December 21, 2010

letterhead #4

Dear future me,
I'm sorry I didn't study
for bio (and probably all the others)
I just hate this. I hate what's happening
and how little control i have over it.
I hate how I had control but I gave it up.
I hate how it makes me feel.
I hate how I told Bella, but she brushed it off, so I did too ( i hate how that didn't work).
I hate how when I think of the future I only feel despair,
how it seems so close to being too hard.
And now I'm choking on my own tears.

It's just hard, you know? Just
hold on till your play
it'll be good then.
With love,

Monday, December 20, 2010

Bad dreams.


“You’re all tangled up in other people. Their expectations have become the expectations you have for yourself. Their worries have become your worries. Their dreams are slowly becoming your nightmares. you are not other people.”   —deafeningsilence

Thursday, December 16, 2010

what to say

kudos to Erimentha.

To myself:
To ellen:

To boys:

To Lewis:

To everyone:

To ellen's mum:

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

this is what it felt like

it's a web
and there's no escape
i keep repeating the words
there's always a choice
and there is,
but i don't like any of the options.

Sunday, December 12, 2010

letterhead #3

Dear you,
I went through and read all your posts today
and that's when i realised.
Frozen raspberries, that's all you said, but that was enough.
So now,
I think I know something about you.
And you don't want people to know.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry I found out,
I'm sorry I stole a part of you that was private and made it mine as well.
(even if it made me feel better)
This changes things.
Because we don't actually know each other.
But I always have wanted to know you,
you just never seemed to really like me.
and now you've stopped blogging.
and i wonder if you realised first and stopped.

But this is my secret too,
so maybe we'll just have to share.
maybe it won't matter because you'll never read this and i'll never say anything.

But if you do:
i did always want to be friends.
i'm sorry i didn't realise how sad you were earlier this year.
i'm sorry i found out.
please don't tell anyone.
because i've written these things because i can't say them
because i don't want to.
because there are consequences and i've discovered that.
and please don't judge (i didn't)
also, i meant every word in the poem.

i don't know if this will change our friendship.
mostly i think it won't.

if you really have stopped.
congratulations, i guess blogging is almost a process of healing.
you've completed the test.

with love,

i wonder if i shall post this.

Thursday, December 2, 2010

that girl.

“I’ve always wanted to be the girl who everyone notices when she walks into a room… Not necessarily because she’s exceptionally gorgeous or brilliant or has a smile plastered on her face everywhere she goes - I want to be noticed for just being that girl. The one you can always count on. The one who is slightly mysterious but will share her secrets. The one who can get away with sitting a corner all by herself or being a complete social butterfly whenever she chooses. And the fact is, this girl is not noticed for wearing expensive clothing or having a great body or knowing a lot of well-liked people. She is simply noticed for her confidence, her beauty, her poise and being exactly who she is. I know it seems like this type of girl can only be found in a great fictional novel or film, but I want to believe - I need to believe - that this type of girl exists. I need to believe that someone can be noticed and loved for being who they want to be. I need to believe that this type of girl is real.”

- http://poeticheartache.tumblr.com/

Saturday, November 27, 2010

the real.

Suddenly i have on this mask
 it was easier than i thought it would be

but it falls off in gasps:
in the dark of the night
alone in my room
staring out a bus window
a pause in conversation.
they pretend not to notice.

they prefer it
everything is back to normal
"it's easier this way, you're you again"
i'm me again
what does that mean?

i don't know how i feel
because now,
i question whether i put it on or took it off.
maybe the glimpses of the other me, are just an old habit dying hard.
Maybe what i thought was me
was a facade all along.

i'm losing myself.

Saturday, November 20, 2010


Don't you realise?
Nothing has changed.
And all I keep thinking is how I hate how lately it's been an effort to stay friends.
How you're starting to annoy me more than anything.
How when I feel shit, I can't tell you.
How you seem so cocky to me these days.
How you always seem uncomfortable.
How I feel uncomfortable because I feel like you want a relationship, when I can only handle a friend.
How even the songs you write about me are actually about you.
How you only ever make the effort to talk to me over the phone, or internet
   when I want something more real than that.
But then again, I guess we've always wanted different things.

And then I think: fuck you.
And that's how this all began.
And that's why it's falling apart.


"Letting go doesn't always mean giving up, but rather accepting that there are things that cannot be."

(sorry I gave up)

                                                                                                this one is about me.

Thursday, November 11, 2010


No matter how much we change outside,
we are still ourselves inside.
- Mister Roger's Neighborhood

Saturday, November 6, 2010

Annette Finch Naked.

Standing naked in front of the mirror was not something Annette Finch normally did, in fact it was not unusual to find her decently clothed. However, today was not a regular day. “Funny,” mused Anne (as she was sometimes called), “if I had any other life, today may not be special at all. In fact, it would be almost ordinary.” Fortunately, for the sake of this story, Anne did not have any other life. She had –what could only be described as - an old person’s life. Anne, aged seventy-nine, lived with her youngest daughter Louise and her daughter’s family. She attended Church almost every morning with her only sibling, Marie. She saw the doctor regularly because she had a stubborn set of corns on her left foot. Basically, her life was a compilation of mundane tasks and disappointingly normal moments.

The excitement surrounding today was based on the fact that Anne was finally getting a moment’s break from her life, from those in her life. For one blissful day, Anne had the house to herself while Louise and her family (all five of them), went to Sydney. To get them to travel the 3 hour journey to Sydney had taken a solid effort on Anne’s behalf and for a moment she felt guilty for her relief in their absence.

“It’s not that I’m a bad person,” Annette reassured her reflection, who was brushing the long, silver hair that cascaded down her shoulders, “it’s just...I hardly ever get to be around only me anymore.” And is that really so hard to believe? In a split level house with one bathroom, she was never alone. Although it sounds like a reasonable space for six people, when you accounted that three of those individuals were between seven and seventeen years of age, it made the area dreadfully small. The air was constantly filled with laughter, screams and yells. Not to mention Louise and her husband Derek were constantly hassling Anne about her health, appetite and corns, because “You’re not as young as you used to be Mum.” It’s not that Anne wasn’t grateful, but it was exhausting, being cared for.

Her grandchildren weren’t proving to be great company either, they were extremely talented at avoiding Anne and on the few occasions they had held up a conversation it had ended with them asking for a laptop. In fact, the only company Anne really enjoyed was the cats, Marco and Benji, who spent their time curled up in the sun or meowing at dead cockroaches. “Oh, and of course, my darling sister, Marie” Annette nodded her head, completely understanding the fond note of sarcasm in her reflection’s voice. Marie had always been the perfect daughter, reasonably bright, desperate to please and completely void of any innovative thoughts or challenging ideas. Unfortunately, she had never grown out of this faze and made a pathetically clich├ęd grandmother, who (naturally) was adored by all her grandchildren. In fact, her sister was so set in her modest ways that the only way Anne had been able to escape her treacherous persistence’s for Church was to feign terrible pain from the corns on her feet and ignore her when she stood at the door for ten minutes, knocking.

Finally, Annette had managed to be alone in peace, in this modern house that they called a home. And, naturally, the first thing Anne had done was open the windows, put on a fresh pot of coffee and shortly after, undress herself and stare at her exposed body in the mirror. After a short time of scrutinizing her reflection, one of the cats walked in through the open bathroom door and stopped, staring at Anne. I’m not sure if you’ve ever been observed by a cat as you stood naked but Anne found it rather off-putting. “Excuse me Benji; I’m just having my mid-life crisis. I’ve been meaning to do it for a while now and I don’t want to put it off any longer so if you would just leave me to it...” Benji stayed in the doorway, watching her with bright eyes. Anne wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but something about the intelligence in those piercing eyes made her feel a bit perverted, and she felt the need to explain herself.

“Have you ever looked at yourself, really looked Benji, and not recognised what you saw?” Benji didn’t reply. “I’ve been feeling like that lately, when I glance at myself, ‘who are you?’ I want to ask, ‘because I remember distinctly wanting to be someone else’. You can’t choose your body though Benji and I suppose you don’t have much choice in the rest of your life either. You just kind of get caught up in it, but on days like today, I just can’t see a single aspect of myself in it, in the mirror that is.” And as Anne stood there assessing her body, she decided that was how her life felt sometimes, like it wasn’t meant to turn out like this. She turned towards the cat, “Funny, isn’t it?” but the doorway was empty, sometime during her monologue the cat had walked away out of pure disinterest, she had always preferred Marco, Benji was a bit self-centred. Undeterred, Anne rallied on in her musings.

The longer she stood there, the more flaws had become apparent: the rivets shadowing her eyes, the harsh angles of her face, the dappled skin that folded in ripples across her body gathering at the thighs, bottom, stomach. The silver hair flecked with grey that curtained her face then suddenly reappeared, unexpectedly almost, between her legs. Something about the flecks of light in the hairs surprised Anne; she had always overlooked that area, never before having scrutinized herself so scrupulously. It shocked her; it was beautiful, in a vulnerable way, modest and shy. And as Anne stood there in front of the mirror that seemed to hold all her problems and very few solutions she decided that maybe she had been too judgemental of her body, of course it was different than how she had planned but that’s what makes life so amazing. Maybe she had been too critical.

Anne felt her heart warm. Silently, she dressed and walked through her home to the kitchen, where she started to prepare dinner for seven. Marco and Benji sauntered into the kitchen as she cooked and she couldn’t help from reassuring Benji, “Just so you know Benji, I’ve decided that maybe I like my body after all. It’s not perfect, but it’s mine.” Anne wondered if he understood and thought he probably didn’t, he was only a cat after all.

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Saturday, October 30, 2010

Sunday, October 24, 2010


Plato believed that humans were originally in pairs, joined to another by the backs, but were split by the Gods because we were too powerful.
Now we are doomed to wander the Earth
until we find
our other

"condemning them to spend their lives searching for the other half to complete them"

According to Theosophy, God created androgynous souls, equally male and female. Later theories postulate that the souls split into separate genders, perhaps because they incurred karma while playing around on the Earth, or "separation from God". Over a number of reincarnations, each half seeks the other. When all karmic debt is purged, the two will fuse back together and return to the ultimate.

I really, REALLY like this idea.
I think I should have liked Plato.