things that make me happy

this is a tag by katherine i havent been able to do until now. 
write a list of things that make you happy. she is lovely,
this idea is lovely. I tag:
P.s. I Am Me
and    
Francesca

photo. 

the moments when you suddenly remember how beautiful everything is
lovely children with shy smiles
goofy laughs
licking icing
hot baths
90s movies
warm, sunny weather
shy boys with lovely smiles
books you can't put down
singing when you're home alone
fresh fruit

Awake

I want things again.
Plural.
And I really want them, I care about them, I have enough energy to try and get them.
So this is about all the things I want, to remind me if I ever forget again.

I want to dye my hair hot pink

I want to appreciate people and personalities



I want to finish the HSC and do well, not because I need to but so I can be proud of myself

I want to kiss someone who I actually care about

and when I do I don't want to be numbed

I want to act

I want to read

I want to write

I want to travel

I want to meet people

I want to experience

I want to fight for who and what I believe in

even if that means breaking the rules sometimes

I really want to remember the inherent goodness of humanity

even if it's hard to see sometimes

And honestly, part of me

wants to go back

but not for a bit

And until then, I want to remind others about what I so easily forgot

photos.  

Thank you for everything

You all helped me a lot.

spirit

photo.  

I think the worst thing about it was the light in his eyes. It seemed to reinforce everything I've lost.
And I found myself wondering if i have passed the point of no return,
if there was a way to claw back the goodness that seems to have disappeared from myself.

It's a funny thing, goodness. You don't notice it until it's no longer there, and then you can feel its lack of presence taking over.
It seems to gradually suck up everything that you had defined yourself by, and leave you with this.
This, which is so uncared for, so desperately unneeded.

Which makes you selfish and self-centred and lonely.

More than other things, i find myself thinking of myself from three years ago, and admiring her, missing her. My mind may have grown but my hearts has shrivelled up.

I could learn a few things from her, but truthfully, i can't even remember her.

I can't even remember who i was.

"People are lonely because they build walls instead of bridges"

-J. F. Newton

And don't i know it.

Letterhead #10



photo.   

Dear writer, reader, blogger,
I have a question.

When are you going to realise
That you aren't going to be saved?
By your parents
By Jesus
By faith and hope and love
By the system
By your blossoming future
By a girl
By a boy.

That you will wilt
And shrivel and wither
That you will die
Drown in your loneliness
In your despair.
That you can't rely on anyone else
Anything else.

Or, alternately
When are you going to realise that you can save yourself?

nights



photo.  

Moments flicker
twist
jump
into and out of one another
you are at a party
by the bonfire
at the sink
talking to bella
fallon
peter
on the phone
you are
refusing
giving in
failing to hold yesterday's convictions
by yourself
quiet
still laughing
looking in the mirror at someone else's life
buttery fingers try to hold on to awareness
it slips away again
in a car
walking
talking
trying to act
how you normally act
talking too quietly in an attempt
to ease suspicion
you are sneaking back in to your house
trying not to trip
you are in bed
trying to fall asleep
you are sneaking back in again
at the party again
looking at your blood-shot eyes again
wondering what you're doing, again.
You get the feeling
that you are skipping through moments that are grouped together
-moments that are happening always-
as you try and fail
to stay in the present.

then

photo.  

In my younger years I used to say hello a lot.
I would write it repeatedly on a piece of paper,
Speak it quietly when lying in bed at night,
Scream it when I was at an empty beach.
I wasn't waiting for someone to reply or
for someone to hear me
though sometimes I suppose I was.
It was more that I was revelling in the pointless beauty of the word.
It's complete lack of meaning.
I was proving to myself that although
we place so much importance in communication
it is so empty, it so empty.

Letterhead #9

Dear Peta,
I'm sorry I'm a shitty friend.
That I don't feel like seeing you a lot of the time
and that I can behave so bipolar.
I'm sorry that I take a lot,
I'm sorry I want you to be someone you aren't.
I'm sorry that sometimes I love you but not always.
I'm sorry I don't normally like hugs.
I'm sorry that your mum died,
I tried to make it better, but I'm sorry I couldn't.
I'm sorry I don't have the courage to say this to your face.
With love,

Dear Peta,
You remember that time I said I didn't think we would stay friends for much longer?
(But you've never listened to me) I was being honest.
I still believe it.
Sorry I forced you to believe it, too.
Stay good.

Monster

photos.   

His handprints, imprinted
On her skin, chest, her thighs.
They draw my red-ringed eyes
To the unseen -his prize
Lost, that which showed his lies.
Society decries
Us. Who blames their surmise?

He causes me to despise
Myself. My babe was unwise.
Her failure to realise
His motivation, implies
I failed her, to advise
Her, as a father. Chastise
Her? I can't. In his cold eyes
She saw goodness. But his guise
Misled her. Led to her demise,
Her brokenness. I hear her cries
As she sleeps, blending with my sighs
For our lost years. It's been hinted
They've drifted off to holy skies.

100

So I will show you...

photos.