culla pallet!






whodoesshethinksheis.jpg
There is so much poetic about death, but I can not make this that. Your fear of death was unreasonable, I didn’t ‘get it’. It is not a phobia, it is not a fear. It is your life. Death snuck into your bedroom and it lives there, slowly eating you from the inside out. Who knows? A whole life will be given to patience, sitting and waiting. It’s lurking around every corner, inside every lover. It’s a secret that I don’t know how to keep. A life I don’t know how to save. It’s something bigger than I’ve ever known. It’s a war inside of you that must be constantly slowed down. You’re a bubble or a balloon that they have to save from popping. The ultimate pop. One large explosion as your lungs collapsed and your heart stopped. The blinding pain of watching your life flash before your eyes. Having to let it burn right until the end. I bet that moment when you died an instant death, when your soul became a star and you're mind an abyss of nothingness, was hardly instantaneous. I watched as your eyes went from everything to nothing in a flash. I watched my lover implode, but I never knew what to do. I'd hoped you'd live my lover. But you became a star instead.
Always think about it gurl//and in the end don't be scared of the dark









Playlist //

Asaf Avidan & The Mojos - One day/Reckoning Song (Wanklemut remix)
Keaton Henson - Charon
Bonjah - Go Go house
Middle East - Blood (kill them with colour remix)
Mumford and Sons - Liar
Jose Gonzalez - Killing For Love
Barcelona - Please Don't Go
Asaf Avidan & The Mojos - Maybe you are 


We blog not because we are teenagers or because this is the twenty first century, we blog because there is a voice inside of us, begging to be heard.
In order for this to work I must quit chasing my dreams. My heart is covered in hairline cracks, not quite broken but pretty fucking close. 
'I don't understand when you don't understand'
One can expect. How can you expect me to pretend that those two years were not the hardest of my life so far. Each day was like running a fucking marathon, trying my absolute hardest to keep up with life and you couldn't care less. You expect. So why do you expect me to come running into your arms as soon as you ask me to? I do not understand why you do not understand when I tell you that I cannot be yours truly. It's only when there is another and you realise that shit will carry on that you listen to a word I say. The truth comes out and you say you forgot. Not. You expect what I learned never to. You fight and fight because I can't be yours but you see no true reason, can you not see I'm broken. Can you not see you broke me. You don't want anyone else to hurt me, you don't want me near him, do you even realise that you hurt me? Do you know what happens to a glass when you throw it at the floor? It shatters, like a heart that's been left for another. Shatter, from the outside-in, a heart with hairline cracks. On the brink, feeling a little misunderstood. I loved you from the inside-out, you broke me from the outside-in
How could you expect anything more than a karma-kick-in-the-teeth?
'I want to mask you something.'
I wear a mask and I wear it glued to my soul. We all do. Life is a masquerade ball. One cannot simplistically explain the complexities of broken hearts, and that's a fact. There is no words that can rectify the meaning of a broken heart. Broken hearts and breaking hearts is the theme of our generation. I can't help but wonder if we will ever learn to illuminate a soul for intercity and experience a truly everlasting love. I'm curious, I wonder, what every single person who walks into my life. It's hard not to wonder what they mean, are they a metaphor? What do they stand for? I question their actions, I question their being. I wonder how they will hurt me, not if, how.


I have felt the shiver of a cold night, I have felt the shiver of fear and the shiver of excitement of a lover on top of me. I want to know the cost, the sacrifice, of this shiver. What shall I sacrifice in order to explode with these shivers? I have lost too much in a too short space of time. I want it back, back, back, you know who you are. A set of birthdays ended too soon and it hurt, and it broke my heart. An old lover came at the same time as a new lover, and I broke a heart. I wonder and wonder what I can do to make a difference. I bicker all night with my head and my heart, telling myself there is nothing I can do as though that condones my (lack of) action.


I wear a mask from the inside-out. A mask glued to my soul and painted on my face. We all wear masks, society begs. But it's when the time comes to remove these masks, when society begs, and our masks are removed, that the trouble begins. Because we've been wearing them for so long, that by the time we remove them, we've already forgotten what was truly beneath them.
'Claire'

I've never really lost anybody. But I lost you, and I would do anything to have you back. Everything is different without you. It's like you were the glue and without you everything is falling apart. It won't hit me, it hasn't hit me. I still can't see it being real, as much as I have accepted it. This was not your fate. I don't understand why this had to happen. I want to understand, I want it to make sense, but it just doesn't. I think about you every day, I think about you when I'm going to sleep at night and when I wake up in the morning. It's not getting any better.
This song directly relates to exactly how I'm feeling. It's everything that I'm feeling really.

"I want you back, back, back"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I0cWti-eSOo&ob=av2n
Claire, an angel amongst girls.
You are super human now, you are too much better than us. There are no memories or words that are good enough, none will bring you back. It's so hard to believe that you are so permanently 'gone'. In an indefinate amount of time we will be back together, I know that's true. I believe in the deepest part of my heart of hearts. You were too good and pure, you were something too real for anyone to handle. It was such a heart breaking moment, when your heart broke. Now, I didn't know you when you were a small bump unborn and I didn't know you when you were learning to walk. But I am one of many who got to know you later in your too-short-too-fast-ended life. I am blessed to say that I once called you a friend. I only wish that I still could. It is not enough to ask you to come back. It is not enough to say that I love you. It is not enough to say that I will miss you. Nothing will ever be enough. You are an angel who has taught me the value of friendship, an angel borrowed from heaven. Forever in my heart.
The ultimate bang. One large explosion. I watched as your lungs collapsed and your heart stopped. The blinding pain of watching your life flash before your eyes, burnt my pupils equally. I saw you you burn right until the end. I bet that moment when you died your instant death, when your soul became a star and you're mind an abyss of nothingness, was hardly instantaneous. I watched as your eyes went from everything to nothing in a flash. I watched my lover implode, but I never knew what to do.
Sometimes I highlight my books, this is what it's come together as.

Love is a dangerous angel.

You are in my blood. I can't help it. We can't be anywhere except together. I've been so afraid. I've been to all the bars just watching and getting wasted. And I know people are dying everywhere. How can anyone love anyone?

He is a dangerous flamenco shadow dancer and a tiny boy playing music in the gutter. His soul sounds like my drums and look like doves. He is fireworks. He is the black-haired angel playing his bass on the top of the tree, on the top of the cake. I want him to see the flowers in my eyes and head the songs in my hands. I think I missed you before I even met you.
My heart is like a teacup covered in hairline cracks. I feel like I have to walk real carefully so it won't get shaken and just all shatter and break. What happens to the rest of something when you smash it's heart?

We've done it-the wild love thing. After his kisses and hugs it feels like without them my body will fall apart into pieces.

"What a world!" says the Wicked Witch in The Wizard of Oz before she melts. But now I know that Magic's not that simple. I wish I could give you a lamp with a genie in it to make all your wishes come true. But you're a genie. Your own genie. Just believe in that.

We left my tears behind us in a chiming silver pool. We left my sorrow in the muddy hollows. When I woke up you were next to me, damp and matted, your eyes hazy, trying to remember the way I clung to you, how far down we went. Was the journey too far Angel? Did we go too far?

In a way I'm glad she's letting me go. But another part of me wishes she didn't want me to. It's been three weeks one day and three hours since the last time I saw you in the fog. I try to dream about you, but I can't.

The good thing about fairy tales, though, is that there is always a fairy god-mother and/or a prince to take the curse away. Sometimes when this same dream used to wake me up in the middle of the night, you said, "the curse is broken", and put me back to sleep with lullaby kisses.

There's the hallway lined with mirrors where I freaked myself once. Now I know they're me but I want to smash my reflections. So in the mirror I'll look like I feel. Pieces. But if you break a mirror there are just more whole little yous in every piece.

I want to paint a picture or Angel. As big as life. A boy who will never leave. Our music weaves us together like out bodies in the night. But me, maybe I fit in a place like this. Maybe the cold inside me will seem less cold in this winter. Maybe the tall buildings will make the brick walls I build for myself seem smaller. Maybe the noises in my head will quiet down in the middle of all the other noises. Or maybe my cold and walls and noise will get worse. It's sort of silly, but it's like whoever is whistling wants to stop but can't or like a circus clown with a smile painted on.

All these sparkling electric treasures and all these strange scary things that shouldn't have been let out but they all were. I hold onto the globe like it is my heart I am trying to hold together. but my heart isn't solid and full of light like the lamp. It's cracked and empty and I just lie there not trying to hold it together anymore. But when I do fall asleep it's like being buried with nothing except dirt filling up my eyes. I close my eyes underground to try to see you jammin' on your drums, your hair all flying out like petals, beat pulsing in your flower-stem neck.

Leaving me just as empty as before, loneliness attacking all my cells like a disease. I think that all of my is broken. Not just my heart which cracked the night Angel told me he was going away. Not just my body slammed with the sadness I see with no one there to put me back together in bed at night. Now it feels like my mind too. I hold onto the hand rail feeling my skate wheels roll at every stop and start like they want to take off, slam me down the aisles. What if I let go and let them? Would anybody even look up?

This is how people die. This is how kids get murdered. This is how you lose your mind and then your body and maybe this is even how you lose your soul. I knew then that you loved me too. But mixed with your love was fear and soon it was just fear sucking the love away. Now my love for you raged through me bitterly. It burned my shoulders like the sun, blistering as if it could peel off laters of skin. It stung like shards of glass embedded in a wound. It jolted me awake like an electric shock.
'come on, you have to give me something'


Nothing will ever render us worse than the feeling of worthlessness. That feeling of wishing you could escape into the oblivian of nothingness. When you feel like there is no more reason, that you've 'had it', that is rock bottom. When everyone is doing their best to drag you up off the ground but you can't get up, that is the end. Worth is so much more than worthlessness. The beginning can be so far from the end. Not knowing who you are or where you're going can make you sick to your stomach. It is not about the journey once you hit the destination, it's the hard work that does with everything you want to earn.

People always tell me that rock bottom makes you stronger. I have to question, does the friend who ignores my depression because she's content with my only happiness plan on making me stronger? because that is the only escape from this that I can see. In my eyes, she has the world. In her eyes, she has enough for now.

Emptiness is now a desirable emotion. contentment is almost bewildering.
The beginning of the beginning

I was oh so young. I was so ready for someone to be everything. I was so enthusiastic to give my self. Noone had anyone but I wanted to start something. I thought about it all day and all night. I dreamt up a wonderland. One that was potentially impossible.

The middle of the beginning

A friend met a boy. A boy who was perfect. I gave up, and I thought that would be where my story would end. But I watched on with envy, oh so keen. I watched her watch him watch me watch him and I never felt not even a speck of guilt. I claimed hate, reckless hate. He knew the truth. They ended and I took him.

The end of the beginning

He asked me to be his and so I was, all his. Day in and day out with no awareness of yesterday, today or tomorrow. He said he loved me and I said I loved him too. He said can I have you, and I said you already do. We started like an Earthquake, completely unexpected and destroying people's lives.

The beginning of the middle

I never saw another soul. I watched the world through a key hole and acknowledged nothing unless it was to him. I ended it over and over again. He never knew what to want. I didn't care, I wanted him and I wanted him to realise that. I struggled just to make him pull me back. And he did, bless his soul.

The middle of the middle

We were high as high, we were all that. Romantic home cooked dinners by his pool and a silver chain to show his caring. A silver chain asking for more than I could give. he said that was fine. He took me upstairs and we made out all night in his king single listening to Angus and Julia. We were perfect.

The end of the middle

We became content and lazy. We stopped making effort. I stopped being committed and he stopped caring. He started looking for more and I started looking for less. There was not a lot which could save us. There was a hole of space that we didn't know how to fill. We didn't care to try and find one either.

The beginning of the end

He found someone else, he packed up his shit and left. It hurt more than I thought it would. I was sad inside and out. I was hurting all over my body. He still didn't know how to care. He was wrapped up in the beginning of the beginning of a new romance. I was stuck in the end of an old one. I found a temporary replacement who I gave everything to as if it would make the pain go away. It still hurt for years afterwards.

The middle of the end

Him and the other girl reached the end of their end pretty quickly and he came running back pretty fast. I gave him everything and told him he owned it, he never knew any better. We ended and started over and over and over again. A few replacements here and there but never anything that could bring upon the end of our end. We were forever stuck in this limbo, waiting for our end.

The end of the end

We're still fucking waiting.
'Google Mania.'


Long nights with strange men and they say I'm perfect. Rushed speech as I run around to everyone, trying to explain everything all at once. I can't help but wonder who has the upper hand. Is it my mind over my soul? because I never wanted to be this person. Good mood, bad mood. Do not put me down, I swear to you I cannot take it, not now. My body is slowly sinking, falling, crumbling and I don't know who I am anymore. Talking can get hard and so can eating. Moving hurts and thinking is impossible. Lack of concentration. With a high of increased energy. Leaving the house, well I wouldn't know.. I didn't do it today. I've been this way since too long. Pressure pressure pressure, I don't know who I am, did I say? Wasted on hoping, wasted on crying, wasted on death. Struggle struggle. Someone tell me who I am. Manic Manic Manic.


I will be an angel when I'm dead, and I will fly and fly and fly. Even Angels die.
'come on, go on'


Tell me your dreams. Whisper them in my right ear. Tell me your secrets. Whisper them in my left ear. Let me make your dreams come true. Let me keep your secrets. Let this be something new, daisy fresh. Let this be everything I hoped it would. Let it carry my soul through this new world and let it take me on the rollercoasters of lust. I want to let you know everything. I want to know everything. Come on, come on. I want to trace the lines of your body, each curve and crevice. I want to know you from the inside out. I want to fill the cracks. I want you to be mine. I want to be yours. Come on, come on.

For a minute there I lost myself. I forgot who I am, I forgot these things don't happen for me. I forgot you had to leave before you could stay. I remember the first time I saw you, staring across the eerie gray room. I remember the first time I talked to you, watching your mouth move. I remember the first time we kissed, my heart stopped. I remember the first time we fucked, my heart raced. You're gone, go on.

"My body is holding onto the memory of how my body felt the first time I saw you. I can't get rid of you. Believe me I've tried."
The after party of love

The crushed veneer, the wicked sneer. Get up, hold up, lick the vodka off your lips, brush the cocaine off your cheek and clean up the mess of yesterdays bliss. What is this pain, what is this confusion. Get up, hold up, fix your collar, brush your teeth. You are human and it won't be long until you find out all about how hard it is to cope in the real world. Baby be sharp, you can't be better than you are. Grip the blade and tie the rope, you're no better than this. Check yourself girl, check yourself because they already did.

Judgement day. The lies and bitches will always get the better, and there's nothing you can do about that. Shit's out of your control. Life's a bitch, then you marry one.

Mortality, the true test. What is it that makes them stay, when it all gets a little bit harder, what pushes them through? This is not 'life', this is shit. This is not 'character building', it's 'character ending'. It's death and everything before it. I would rather be mortal than keep putting up with this shit.

I hate you all. I'm already dead, don't bother calling.
Winner, winner, chicken dinner.

It all comes down to what you want more. What you wanted more, at the time, in any particular moment. Flash, your childhood is gone. Flash, primary school is over. Flash, your dream just ended.

Pressure: The exertion of force upon a surface by an object. The state of being pressed or compressed. Noun.

Mums pressure. Dads pressure. Teachers pressure. Friends pressure. My pressure. I forced myself to attempt to exceed expectation. I forced an error, I forced a ball too hard, I forced my peers to choose.

Who did I think I was to be great? Spectacular? Remarkable? Alive?

So many dreams were wrapped into so little time, there was lack of focus.

Goodbye my brother, see you in a few years.

Goodbye my netball dreams, you were simply too unattainable.
Goodbye captaincy, you required too much popularity.
Goodbye lover, you could never just let me be enough.
Goodbye self, you are not enough.
It was the deepest hate that I have ever known. You are the most self-destructive-envy-consumed-selfish-prick that I have ever met. I don't know how to let you go. I don't know how to say goodbye. I don't know how to wish you the best. I don't know how to let myself cry. You're going, going, almost gone and I still haven't said my proper goodbye. I still haven't let you know that I'm so incredibly scared of you leaving. The thing is, you're not just going away for a bit, you're disappearing. I don't know how to let you do that, I don't know how to say goodbye. What if I never see you again, that's what you said you wanted, what if you get that. Don't tell me it's the music making me cry, don't tell me it's the guilt. It's love, and I hate it. I hate that I hated you so much and now I have to let you go without having fixed any of this. Bye bye big brother, I think I'll miss you.
Inadequacy.

I have reached a stage where I officially care what people think of me. I care about the snickers, the whispers and the outright laughs. I am human. As humans, we begin to wonder am I good enough? am I relevant? will I get turned down? would anyone miss me? And as humans, our answer is a constant, drowned out 'no'. We believe that we are constantly inadequate, regardless of what those closest tell us.

I have cut all ties. I have emotionally removed myself from all of my relationships. I have said my last I love you's and I hate you's. I have acknowledged that which needed acknowledgement. I have let go of anything that I would usually later catch myself hung up on. I have released all of the emotion that I find unneccessary. I have given up.

I dedicated five years of my life to commitment and participation, and now I wonder what for. Because the friends don't care, the friends are out to win it for themselves. It's a dog eat dog world, each man for himself. Noone is your friend when it comes to competition. Everyone uses others as a stepping stone to the top. And 'what for' you ask? To have that title, the one that seems like everything in high school, the one that seems as though it will give you glory forever, the one that makes you think you've found the cherry for every cake you've ever made, what title?

COLLEGE CAPTAIN.

I ask you, who was the 2006 college captain of our school? I bet none of you know. She thought it was the be all and end all of everything, but she left no legacy, we're one year past and we don't even know her name. Think about it. Think about all the sacrifices that you don't need to make.
August 11th 2011, Dear Diary

She was just a baby. She greeted death with such innocence. She smiled as it took her hand and she walked with it down the path of misery, it had poppies all down the side. She wondered where she went wrong. She wondered why trusty old Ma and Da stopped kissing her good night. She wondered why her best friend had turned. She wondered why her brother didn't want to be around. She wondered why the other kids stopped smiling. She wondered why the games weren't so much fun any more. She wondered who the girl was that took her place in the mirror. She wondered why nothing was ever good enough for anyone anymore. She wondered why she nothing was every good enough for herself. She wondered if she could fix it. She wondered if it was worth it. She decided it wasn't. She greeted death at the doorway and skipped down the garden path with it. She smiled up and death and told it she had been waiting.

There was blood and brains everywhere. They wondered where the went wrong. Her parents wished they could kiss her good night just one more time. Her best friend wished she had tried harder to reach her. Her brother wished he had stayed to protect her. The other kids wished they had been more inclusive. They all wished they could tell her she was good enough. They were too late, and she was just a baby who greeted death with a smile too big.
Be aware of their wondering, before you start wishing.
Read slowly and out loud.

Never love a wild thing if you're not going to stay. Don't love anything willy-nilly. Listen to everything that they say before you jump into something you can't escape from. The life I was meant to have sits on the window seat in my bedroom, it watches me, shaking its head. It is so disappointed. It makes me wonder if maybe I'm better off dead. Because that's the easy way, the ticket they're all buying. That's the easy option, I've always taken the hard option. Maybe it's time. The life I was meant to have sits up high on the seat and looks down on me, I look up at it. We sit there for hours, wondering. It takes a certain person to look the life they were meant to have in the eyes, I am one of those people, who finds joy in my own misery. It's not just the sneaky boys who use cheeky words, just so you know. It's stuff so much bigger and smaller than that. It's an upside-down-side-ways-topsy-turvy-land-for-lovers this world, but that sounds cute.. and the world isn't. I do not view myself as a failure, do not see my sadness as such, instead I view myself as a dependant. A dependant on lovers, family, friends, fate and dreams. So mentally unstable, but so together. In my life I was meant to have I'm still that daisy-fresh-girl from 4 years of age, cookey-crazy-laughing-girl. There was no honey-honey-slinkster-lover and there was no crazy-eyes-soul-stealer. There was just me-daisy-fresh-me.
ECSTACY


We are the saddest love story that I never read. That is why I never wrote us.

The girl on the side. The boy in the middle. The sneaky kisses that backfired and the cheeky fuck I had with karma. The ultimate betrayal mixed in with the hips that could lie so well. slut, prick, bitch, cunt. Make a care, make a mess, make a fuck (and that's what we did the best). We always were the ultimate wrong, everything was bad about us. We would hurt each other and break the best parts. We hated being together but couldn't handle each other being with anyone else. Those poor weapons of mass destruction that thought we loved them. We could lie and cheat and it was like an addiction, obsession. There are times when I hate you, there's years when I hate you, but I'm sure its mutual.

It was the sneaky kisses and the cheeky fuck that ruined what we were meant to be. What do you feel when you see me now? What do you wish that you could take back? I see that filthy prostitute that you fucked for no good reason, other than your eighteenth birthday. What is it you see? Is it the boy I loved that you made me cheat? Is it the boy I used to get you back? Is it the boy who tried so very hard to change the past that I was trying to re-create? Because I bet there is so much that both of us would take back, but that's just impossible.

When we're cold we're cold, but when we're hot we're oh so hot.
'Send me on my way.'

We have spoken so frequently and intensely about leadership this last week. What is a leader? what are leadership qualities? Are you a leader? I'm caught on this last one, because I can tell you what I love in other leaders and why I love it. The only problem is that I cannot identify any of these qualities in myself.

I want, I want, I want to be inspirational, motivational, enlightening, approachable and admirable. But I cannot picture it. I see me as 'me'. As the little girl in her fairy dress, as the girl crying because she didn't get invited to a birthday party, the girl who threw a tantrum because her mum wouldn't let her eat chocolate. I do not see my self on any podium let alone someone else's pedestal. The thought of getting up in front of hundreds of teenage girls with my greatest desire and leaving it in their capable hands absolutely terrifies me. To take my fate out of my own control and leave it in theirs is one of my greatest fears.

One of the most inspirational people I've ever known taught me not to compare myself to others, but to rise to their level. And so I must, I must do this if I am going to exceed expectation. Mine. Mums. Theirs. Yours.

'Challenge Accepted'

Noone has ever really expected anything from me.

I have never been expected to achieve greatness.

I have never been expected to exceed expectation.

I have just pondered through life, doing a mediocre job. Keeping people happy and keeping on top of it all. I have never achieved greatness and I was not born with greatness. I was simply born with personality. I can make people laugh, smile, cringe, cry and laugh a little more. My personality though, is not funny because of the jokes, but because of the truth in the jokes. I can be honest. I can be honest with friends, class mates, teachers, family and the rest of you. But there is a person I cannot be honest with, this person lays deep within me, constantly asking the question of 'why will you not exceed expectation?'. There is a voice within my soul, begging me to do better than my best. I do not chose to ignore it, I am simply un-motivated. I have no desire to stand on a podium and preach to a country, I have no desire to throw a ball on the worlds stage, I have no desire to be anything more than I am.

But this voice within me, it begs to differ. It tells me that I have a desire to do all of these things, but I simply have the wrong attitude. That I don't believe in myself. That I don't know how to self-motivate. That I'm not mentally strong enough.

So here it is, my last fight back. Taking all of the desire, belief, motivation and strength that I have, I have accepted the challenge of my voice within and I am going to exceed expectation. My own expectations and the expectations of others. Because usually if there is a voice within you, it knows what it's talking about.
Tears can stream so endlessly downwards. Old memories bring back old feelings. Feeling like I love you. I'm sorry, but I love you. I can't help but choose you every time. I can't help but want you. For as long as there is a possibility, you will be all I want. You're all I ever wanted then, you're all I'll ever want. Maybe. Crazy. You're the only one who knows that. My act is so super impressive. It's strung so tight, carried in my upper back, parallel to my heart. Maybe. Crazy. I think I'll love you forever, I think I'll never let go.
Age is not an excuse to grow up.
Since I was little and played in a fairy dress in the garden, I have wanted nothing more than to be a 'big girl'. Good old Ma and Da tried to explain to me that I had to enjoy the now and that there was plenty of time to be a big girl. I never believed them, I insisted on wearing Mums make up and Grans kitten heels. I went crazy watching movies with girls kissing boys and I so longed to be a part of that 'grown up' world.
I'm still so little, I'm still a child. But I have grown up, I wear my own make-up and heels and I get to go out and kiss boys. The only difference is that now I wish that I was little again. I wish I could go to the park across the street in my fairy dress again. I wish I could tell my parents that I'm sorry I didn't listen to them, that I wish I had lived in the then. Because now I'm all grown up and I can't have it back.
'Power of self'
I have never truly been aware of the destruction I am capable of. Never truly known. I have never known the depth of my power. I wish I had, I wish I’d used it better. I wish I could have locked you up. I wish I could’ve found a way to force you to stay. I bet you wanted to, didn’t you? Instead I forced you out. I locked myself in that room of demons. I became a demon myself. Can’t you see? WHAT AM I? tell me, I know you know. How can you tame this lion? I hit you hard. Too hard. It hurt me more. It was so much better when you pretended this was forever. I locked you out, was I saying? Bars and bricks and barricades kept you away.. so strong. Too strong. I forced you out, locked myself in the prison of my own insanity. I was consumed by it, until I became utterly uncontrollably psycho. Noone could break in then, could they? You wouldn’t know, no one tried. Oh the satisfaction I was meant to feel. Did I mention I love you? I don’t want you back; I don’t want you at all. Want ME, want ME. Now. Because I know you do, somehow, somewhere, you want me baby.. I know you do. How could you not fall head over heels in love with this self-consumed-psycho-lover.
'Sometimes the ghosts win'
Ghosts live in my house, the demons of the past creep around the corners. The monsters sleep not under my bed but in it. The boogey man takes rest inside of me, I know it. The creepy crawleys of every girl’s nightmares creep out of my skin, they settle like dust on the window sill. I am the ghost that haunts my house. I am the Demons that creep. I am a monster. I am a self and ever destructive monster, consumed with jealousy and hate and love. I am a cover to a book that no one could ever read, I’m too scary, with no true rating. Noone wants to sell me, no one wants to buy me, too strange. I will never be recycled; I am but merely too evil. I’m not their type. The world could never understand, too consumed with stereotypes. Call me what you want, the names are printed in my skin like scars and they make me laugh, I fail to care time and time again. Surface scars. Surface scars. They are so different to what is within. So deep. So deep in my skin. There is something strange and different and beautiful about it. Something too scary for everyone else. I will kill you. I will think about it, plan it, but never, ever execute it. I couldn’t. I am weak. Surface strength, inner weak.
'Oh Honey'
I could never resent you, know that. Maybe once, maybe twice. But never thrice. You were the biggest part of me for the shortest time, a time that has never truly been acknowledged, that has never been given the credit that it deserved. Maybe we were together for all the wrong reasons, maybe, but maybe we were together for all the right reasons too. Reasons like lust and envy and some other crazy messed up reasons. Reasons like making old lovers jealous. Maybe the lust crept out of us and become more real than it was ever meant to. Maybe the lust consumed us and become love. Loving you was the most heart wrenching, excrutiatingly painful moment of my life, and I loved every second of it, being all wrapped up in you like that. So beautiful in your thoughts and emotions, and so disgusting in your portrayal. I never loved anyone like I loved you, I never loved anyone more, I never love anyone less. I never hated anyone in the way I can’t bring myself to hate you. I will replace you, it’s my forte. Never forget, you were nothing but a replacement, a utensil in my destruction, an established cunt. Forever. You will never change, you are the most bitter-sweet taste of stubborn, and I love hate you, and I will forever. My Honey Honey Slinkster Lover, I will never truly love or hate you. Not ever.
THIS SHOW IS MY LIFE
People drag others down, with their words and their looks, people drag others down when others are above them.
I do not need you to tell me how bad I am, trust me I already know.
I do not need you to put me down and push me around, trust me I do it to myself enough.
I do not need you to tell me I'll fail, it's all wedged deep in my head.
I do not need you to tell me you're better than me, trust me I already know.
I hate you, it's such an awful word, I hate you.
I don't want to be around you but I fake it because it is right to do so. I don't want to waste my time with you. I don't want to pretend I care. I don't want to listen to the shit that comes out of your mouth. I don't want to watch you smile because you know you've done the wrong thing but you want everyone on your side. I don't want you to get away with crying every time you do something wrong. I don't want your pathetic excuses to work time and time again.
I hate you.
I hate you.
I hate you.
People drag others down, with their words and their looks, people drag others down when others are above them.
Break free
I thought I was so wrapped up in you, I thought I was so god-damned stuck. We think we are, we think that everything is so personal. He is mine, I am his, she is hers and he is his. But we don't actually belong to anyone, and noone belongs to us. We are all obsessed with ownership, making everything our own. So I gripped to you so tightly, always sure you could make me feel so much better. I wouldn't let you breath, in case you caught a taste of something better, I had to cover your eyes so you couldn't see what you were missing. I made you mine and I kept you there, because I can. Because I could. Because you let me. I was scared of leaving, I was scared of you leaving. Leaving is always the hardest thing, until you do it, then it's the easiest thing in the whole wide world.
"There was no planning. No time for planning. No time for a future. But then the lifespans started getting longer, and people started having more and more future. And now life has become the future. Every moment of your life has become the future-- they go to high school so they can go to college so they can get a job so they can get a nice house so they can afford to send their kids to college" John Green
He fell like a plane through the roof, he grew like flowers out of the carpet. He inflated until he filled the entire room. He's back. Old lover, new lover, same lover.

It's the same ex-boyfriend, same bad break-up time and time and time again. I think about how, oh oh oh, nothing compares to you, no one makes me feel the way you do. I run up to every person I see, trying to re-create you where ever I go. Now there's two and I don't know who to choose. I don't really have a choice, because you don't want me, two. Who is left? The tears, they don't actually bring anyone back. I want to have you both, here and mine. You left three days ago, took your jumped and ran. I've thought and thought and wanted you, but you still haven't come back. I want you. I want you both. I want to not want any of you at all. You showed me you cared when you were entirely not meant to, because that's rule number one; We don't give a fuck, we just fuck. But I want you. I love you, I love you, I love you, two.
"I want a tattoo" she said "but then I'll be seventy and it will be sagging down on all my wrinkly skin". She always had a reason not to do things. Regrets or other people's opinions, there was always something. "What makes you think you're going to live until seventy?" I asked her. "Because I want to, I don't want to die young. I want to live to 100" she was a dreamer. But I told her, "the human body is made to last 190 years, we all die young".
So she did it, she got a triangle on her wrist
She always had a reason not to do things. Regrets or other people's opinions, there was always something. But then I stopped making excuses, and I just did whatever the fuck it was that I wanted to do.
I cried, I cried. I couldn't catch them. I couldn't hold them back. I cried for a girl with a sick brother, almost dead. I cried for a girl who cut him down from the sky and brought him back to Earth. I cried for a girl with a mum who cried, every day, in and out, heaving instead of breathing. I cried for a girl with a dad, the 'Fixer', who didn't know how to fix a thing. I cried for a girl with a lover who had never seen her, a lover she had devoted her entire self too but had never been touched by. I cried, I cried until my eyes were almost empty. I cried for a girl who couldn't be good enough for herself, who pushed and pushed but could never succeed. I cried for a girl who kept a brave face each day, who tried her best to decieve... believing she was unworthy of a breakdown. I cried for a girl who had no magic, but some how was invisible. I cried, I cried. I cried for me, but also for you. The tears poured out of my insides, and he absorbed them. Down his throat, through his skin. Inside of him, they lay. Brave enough not to cry them back out. But he will give them back to me, when he's had enough. He'll pick up and leave and my tears will be back.