Unhinged...

oil to water

2008-11-06T01:25:00.004Z

Capital letters fill my screen

HEY HEY HEY!
DON’T SAY THAT!
I NEVER MEANT TO BE BAD!
I AM SORRY IF I HURT U!
I REALLY REALLY AM!
I REALLY REALLY GOTTA GO NOW!

I have a missed call,
The number is familiar but I’m not sure. Lie
It rings 3 times. Hello?
He replies Hi.
Static joins both our ears.
Hello, he says again.
And there is confirmation in his accent.
Oh Hi. Acting well.
You don’t have my number?
No, I never kept it.
(Do I dare believe there is hurt in his silence.)
"I’m so sorry. His voice so little. As if already in New York .
I feel sweat collecting under my fringe.
It's fine. Another lie.
"I had no idea. I should have called I should have apologized.
I should have…' the mumbling starts, my friend is back.
Many misunderstood phone calls resurface.
I say nothing.
The static is back.
Okay
I should go, I will speak to you when I get back.
I don’t answer.
Then do. Okay.
Okay .
Cancel the call
I fill full of tears. My face is burning.

Him nonchalant,
me disposable.
Oil and water.
However did I expect us to mix, well

What did i just do.

Never become, Never Leave

2008-10-31T12:23:00.003Z

The urge is coming to fuck-it-all-up, to walk away. Like most things it starts small, a word. Like a verb. Wish, wreck, run. Then after more time, it turns into a string. Unwinding out hours worth of play.

Creating background static started in your lengthened absence. Initially impervious by a coating of your skin on mine, now washed away. Five baths, skin shaved twice.

Ideas not necessarily substantiated. Just second guessing really. My insecurity begins to operate. Continuing life as if you don't exist. An error in action? I end up at Prague bar, as usual. Drinking a lot, as usual; with the comfortable and friendly. The boy that pronounced himself rude and modern, my dear friend. Swimming in booze, laughing at each other, we are joined, a double date? We move to a restaurant, girl boy opposite girl boy. She is watching.

He does like you, but you know.
Yes, I do.
He is not enough.
But he’s lovely?!
Yes, he is.
Then there’s the unsaid sentence.
What are you doing, what about the another?
I’m scared he’s been totally washed away. (I don’t say this)

The pairs pair off and we walk home until the point of our separation. Attaching my lights to my bike I feel he’s watching me, I still like that. We kissed on the mouth, not planned, slightly open. And we both moved away, happily. I don’t look back.

How are we meant to feel about the ones that never become but never leave.

2008-10-27T17:05:00.001Z

Worry wears me well
The strangest of parasites
devouring insecurity
She is well feed
an ugly beast
cruelty of girls
at its best
I woke up Saturday morning,
with three in my bed
our thoughts the same,
he’s walking you to the station?
he took your hand to hold?
following us
astonished at a distances
she murmur arrows
shooting them to the heart
I cower
breaking
inducing me to act irrational,
in a feverish turmoil.
You don’t know how to be a good girlfriend
How to be respectful, courteous, responsive
You don’t know how to give space,
give up space
But with this war
Your contagious calm
gentle ease and directness disarms us
All of our mouths open
I reach for his mouth,
my tongue is his
I feel her blush
looking away
with jealousy

These days she is paler,
Less well feed,
Hollowness in her cheeks,
More quiet
Less vibrations
I almost can’t even see her.
And no longer dream of others.
I thank him for that.

2008-10-21T15:21:00.005+01:00

The slight headache is clouding it all, when all I want to do is clearly write everything, You text me, so I know that I‘m still there. It still surprises me when you’ve thought about me, talked about me, without me. I’ve been there and you’ve been here for 17 days now. I had to check the calendar. The first entry, four days before the show. We are standing next to each other in part of a square in silence, both leaning against the wall. My eyes are down, lying, passive, while R gushes, I act non affected, but I want this stranger who’s face I wont look at yet, to see me. You do, I let your eyes gaze at me without my judgement, you make me feel so pretty. Eventually I look at you and smile, we start conversing, easily and I feel like I’ve known your face forever. I tell myself I can’t kiss this boy, you just can’t. But for the rest of the party we hide from the others and tell the little stories. The theory of 'the little stories' When you first meet someone, you tell them the little stories, the ones that you love, and you want him to love you for. We must never stop telling each other these. It will keep us fresh and happy. I smile too often at your stories. I hate that.

Outside the night is too warm for the end of September. The last thing I wanted to do is go home, alone, to an empty bed of regret. But there is no way. I have already decided it is one of those nights. That will continue without sleep. I asked you if you want to go for a walk, I see surprise in your smile and yes. The streets are empty and I secretly name us the nocturnal walkers. For periods we walked apart in silence, happily.

In a full circle we were standing at my car, then you’re sitting in the passanger seat, we travel towards the bridges in the west. Kings of Leon plays through. The car is parked, the lights of Albert bridge glowing unbelievably romantically. I am cautious about all of this, its easiness.

As we step on over the water the lights turned off, and I am happy because I already know you are going to kiss me, wrapped up in the darkness.

After you is gone and I’m waiting at a bus stop, organizing a big mistake. There is a message. Something to help me believe that unlike all of the other times, same depth impressions have been made. Something real is happening to two people at the same time.

13 days ago, you aren’t here, You wrote 8.30, it’s now 9.10. I am in my blue dress and my hair is perfect and there are whispers of good and greatness around. Uncontrollable my heart is sinking. I give up. K asks me why I look so sad. He isn’t here. But you are, suddenly standing behind her, looking at me. I can’t tell what you are thinking. But you are casual. Lovely. Ready.

At 12, the noctural walkers are out. I kiss you as I wish you happy birthday. I actually close my eyes and wish that. And make that. In my bedroom after meeting your friends you sit puzzled. A small carrot cake, with one candle arrives. Every part of your face says thank you. I’m standing at the edge. When you decide the worthy of one human being.

He will come back

2008-04-02T23:26:00.001+01:00

I have this scarf. Made from the most amazing blue and white stripped fabric. My grandmother had made it for my mother, it came as an accessory with a wonderful dress. When I wear it, I feel beautiful.

Walking underground I lost it. I had been sitting down for 5 minutes, reading, about to get on a train when I realized. I left the platform and retraced my journey, i was going to find it, i told myself. I walked the long walk from the DLR to Central Line. I asked all the staff if they had seen it. I felt lost and sick. How could I have been so blasé. Uncaring, butter fingers. Am I to lose everything. I walked as far as I can. And stopped, for a second, looking all around, everyone ignored my panicked face.

On the verge of tears I walked back through the barriers and down the escalators. I told myself, to let go. The scarf made difference to anything. I shouldn’t behave like that. Even though it was something special.

A thought traveled through me, like a train. And it disappeared again, into the dark tunnel. Things are never lost. The ones that come back are the ones I’m supposed to have. And walking back to the platform, caught in the wind against pillar lay the scarf.

I tied a knot in it.

Break. Break.

2007-11-23T17:53:00.000Z

After walking away for the second time. I too walked, pulling myself off the brick wall. Not looking back behind, I break. I put on my scarf, groves and hat and walk to the number 8. The lyrics to ‘build a home’ resonate, the triumphant piano builds and builds. I will build a home for you, for me.
Sitting there, all my concentration is on the music, to stop emotion manifesting. When the piano begins to fade and the violin starts. There are tears. Then there he is. His smile is aluminous and it reflects over to me. He touches my head, I fall into his chest. I break again. ‘God I’m so sorry, I told you that I was rude, modern and rude. Please lets go home.’

It occurs to me that there is no difference between, how near? How far? That the length of both are as endless as each other and when I ask each question I realize how lost I am. And that I the longer I look the further away everything seems to be.

Did you kiss it? Ways out.

2007-11-07T13:21:00.000Z

For over a year, I stopped recording. All the thoughts, seductive gestures and words exchanged.

Then I gave in, as I do too often and looked over this site. I no longer could stand the numbness of all the work I was doing. Reading over my harsh words I began living vicariously through my previous life, another previous I have grown out of. And concluded that all that had finished. Happily I am wrong. I had learnt to suppress and ignore, like all good young people do.
I have to believe there is still something romantic about my disposition that I can’t lose, some kind of modern optimism.

But then I watched a scene where she allows her eyes to sink into him, with love written all over her face. It is her vulnerability or lack of guardedness that I wish I could breath with. She was so unashamed, brave in herself. She touched him and said

“You knock my socks off.”

I want honesty in my character. Between myself and what it is that I am expecting.

I loved none of them. I looked at them all shyly and thought there was possibility with such negativity underlining it all. Love never grew or blossomed. It only inhabited in the beginning, superficially like a hangover; for the longer I stayed the less I seemed to be able to give, give up and even possibly worse, let go. I talk so courageously of pouring hearts and blazing organs but I feel no such things. Blue coats and yellow vests have become something of a uniform, something of a concrete armor. What is worse is that I watch myself complete the cycle every time. I look for ways out, moments to disappears into. I am so unsuccessful.

I didn't write that right...

2007-11-07T13:18:00.000Z

I talk about boys as waves or storms. That they come crashing or cause havoc. There is one, that works like a mist. He is so silent and so attractively inoffensive what when he kissed me I thought my world was growing. Growing in lust. Which is why I can’t forgive myself for forgetting him and even letting him go time after time. For someone I neither understand and feel totally closed off to. It is totally selfish when I say I feel no displacement with him. I am nothing but myself in his company. No second guessing or harsh words to digest about my worries or self-loathing characteristics all the others felt so happy to laugh at me with. There is no sign of judgment, though I know there is, which is why I write about him instead of... And why he is just other one, on the ever growing list. Growing lists. Ever growing lists, of smiles and kisses, scares, weaknesses and disappointments.

HE IS CHOCOLATE

2007-11-07T13:17:00.000Z

He is so sweetly satisfying. He is chocolate. When words fail me too often. I find the perfect words here, for this one. HE IS CHOCOLATE. I am the gazer, I watch from afar afraid in hope he is not aware at how awkward and suspicious I feel. I know he doesn’t see me, that I belong to a crowd but watch him move around his space, with such ease, it makes me want to lick the small trial of hair that runs up his stomach. I wonder if he has a girlfriend, with her own dirty thoughts, in her beautiful brain. She IS so beautiful and so happy and natural, everything I am not, I imagine. I imagine that I will forever be invisible.

All so emptying...

2007-11-07T13:15:00.000Z

Do I feel his silent surprise, or his eyes on my hips as he follows me up stairs? When we shake hands on our goodbye, is there a cut off moment when our hands have been clasped for too long?

wrong, Wrong, WRONG

2007-11-07T13:14:00.000Z

The sadder girl has arrived

2007-07-10T18:18:00.000+01:00

I'm trying to tell myself there is nothing inparticular about this date, the date i decide to start writing after such a long time. I feel the sadder part of myself arriving again, from such a long sleep. She is so familiar in my skin. Everytime she tells me to do something, killing the patients that has grown in me. I drink glass of water, after glass of water, until i feel a little sick. Therapy? I think my biggest problem is that I just don't know what to do. So with her the feeling of lost returns, if only i could hold out a few more hours, one more day. I think too much, my greatest down fall. what can you do. So i write again

Cirling without courage

2007-03-11T22:16:00.000Z

They're circling, round and around (I watch him talk to the my friends totally unaware) Words that do nothing to secure the sinking in my stomache, and i know i'm going to be sick. I christened the toilet and allowed him to leave thinking it was about him, he called later worried, 'it's not always about you.' I don't know if that's a lie or not.

I woke up with the sense that i had lost something, S and I sat hungover in silence on the DLR trying to not think about the heartache feeling the film had left us. I thought about the circling words again, and it was courage that i had lost, no not lost, lacked. I lacked the courage to be honest, not only to him, them all, but to myself.

Fade Into You

2007-02-20T22:16:00.000Z

I never thought I would say it, but everywhere (above my computer) I look I see hearts, on paper, as paper, in red glass and silver cast. Like in the girls rooms I never was invited to. I quitely mocked them for their sentimentality. With photo’s of their boyrfriends, their delicately hung with bluetack fairylights and stragetically placed ornaments like hearts and bra’s. Slowly in the absence of that something great I had turned. Was it a defining moment or a series. Look I’m writing a diary, fuck, writing and wish they’d call and say they made the mistake. At 8:45 while being lead out of conscious, allowing the flow of images to slide over me; her song killed my fake bliss. Chords were stuck and I was brought to an old specific moment, with long sleeps with Mazzy Star and playlists called his name ending-in-o that I still have sent to trash and then there’s smell of fried fish coming from my kitchen. I had no idea what I had stumbled across, I think neither had he.

I wrote the notes on fish dreaming and had it in my back pocket when I bumped into him that day and with surprise in my tone and on his face, i handed it to him. He walked away before anything else could have been said. I know why all this is coming back and up and hopefully not out. How are we ever going to move on when we can’t forget, or maybe forgive the imperfections and frights. It was surprisingly hard to give in and agree when she told me despite all of my moans and messes, I wasn’t ready of either of them, and one particular, neither is he. I wish there was some kind of comfort in that.

Decisions are being made now, about short futures and those osrts of things. All of a sudden is it time to grow, out of this institution and its comfort, comfort, comfort, comfort. I have a terribly sickly feeling in my stomach that something has happened, like it does in the movies. Beyond my neuroses and paranoia. Alone typing, i’m nodding with myself. When the two ghosts met at the party on saturday night out of the awkwardness, did either of them mention or disclose...

I have nothing to hide, I had been as honest as I can be to both. Except this one point; that one was nothing but my fantasy and absolute dream and the other, my dear friend, is my future, whatever that maybe.

Fuck. I was walking through the park, angry and ashamed at myself for allowing him to upset me with him tone. Another call came through, he’s just been running and told me to come over and he let me sickly, fall alseep and we spooned and I left in the morning well again. Do I need to let all of these go. Please let me. Is this how it’s going to work out. Letting go and then calm for the next phase?

The day will come...

2007-02-17T18:09:00.000Z

I have sockets on my teeth. It's been two days since I brushed; my hair is dishevelled and the smell of fabric softener is fading away from my jumper i'm constantly wearing. I smell of warm skin and grease. I listen to sparklehorse. You know what gets to me the most. spooning, how he just does, arm sunk into my waist head resting between my shoulder blades, he's knees bent with mine. I think that is what love feel likes. I promise myself next time it will be me that undresses him, and in the morning it wont be him that initiates the act. Next time.

There is this moment i continue to see over and over again. We are on the underground standing close together like we have done a million times before, we sway with the motion of the tube and without looking at him; I allowing with every rock for my mouth to open a little more, and to move a little closer. I kiss him, in public, surround by strangers. And that is a profession of love, no?

Fucking petting...

2007-02-08T16:39:00.000Z

I’m waiting for a time when wednesdays mean something else. but for now... can’t you see i’m trying. There is nothing but a glance that comes to us now. Inside I am viciously angry and weak over him and somehow getting lost there.
Yesterday silently we passed in the stairwell. I promised myself to look up only briefly. I can hardly bare his eyes talking that stops me from ever moving further away. So I look for a second, and see the saddest smile. I think maybe it was my reflection and I carry moving down. But i feel his hand in my hair and words of consulation through them. He touched me, he peted me. and I didnt turn around. I was so angry, I was so fucking angry, how dare he pet me, like a child, like a little girl. And with that vicous anger I told her and we laughed with our evil streak and he caught us in passing, i turned the other way, and still laughing at him she ruffled his hair. I ignored him later when he asked me what that was about.

Losing my friend

2007-02-07T22:12:00.000Z

This is how we operate. This is how we live it out. Again. There’s a gurk, anticipating with words still unsaid. My mouth open, almost ready, with admiration and a tongue for licking. His look could tell me a thousand things but I’m not seeing. I remember his friend saying that we are always seeing but never looking, i contradict with we are looking but never seeing. Even and especially places at the end of your nose. And fine I’m no different, but the decision is mine alone, away from words and gazes and arrogent fringes and confessions late at night at bus stops. A new post-it note above my computer, thoughts causing friction. the friction between his and mine. There’s some mechinacal happening, repetition, volleying, smiling, nuzzling. Somehow it all seems more deeper than before. Trying to see things your way...

What are we going to do now...

2007-02-05T19:34:00.000Z

a little too late

...How strange is this fog?
Please don’t talk about the weather

We were too young
I know
I know you know, you told me.
When?
When we were too young.

Oh.
That makes you sad?
A little, but it’s okay. (Lie)
I think you don’t really remember,
No I don’t, when was it?
No, I don’t think you remembered anything that happened between us.
You weren’t really there, you still aren’t quite and, well maybe you never will. I’m just saying it wasn’t just that we were too young, just, you were never mine, and it certainly wasn’t love. but everything is fine now.
Fine!
Yes fine, and that’s a good thing.
I’ve changed in a thousand different ways, too.
Really? I know, I know.
I eat dark chocolate and brussel sprouts
Well you obviously have grown up.

can you feel it?

I saw playing with my brother, and I had been captured and my hands had been tied behind my back. I had tried to escape and was running, and laughing, laughing too much. and I fell and couldn’t break my fall, my chin hit the pavement. There was blood everywhere. It was so gross. My mum cried when she saw me with blood running down my chin and my some teeth missing.

And you, any war wounds.

Not really...I do have four little ones on my chin just under my lip. I was having tea, fish fingers and beans at a girls house that I wasn’t really friends with, I must of been seven maybe even younger and she just threw a fork right at my face. I was so embarrassed I didn’t move, I didn’t even touch to see if it was bleeding. I just ignored the fact that it had happened. When her mother came in to check up on us, she saw me sitting there with blood dripping down. I don’t remember much else
what awful thing I must I have said to deserve that.

I was looking for it in you

I have this childhood memory of my parents fighting, they didn’t often and even less in front of me. My mother was washing up as they were shouting at each other. For the life of me I can’t remember why, it was just so. He must have said something so awful that she slapped him across the cheek. But what was so amusing was that her hands were covered in soap bubbles and as she swung her hand the bubbles flew into the air and covered his face. And that was that they said nothing to each other, and even a smile crossed their faces. My father stopped shouting and eventually walked away from her and that fight was never continued again. I just assumed that it was always going to be this way with you. That we too have a silver lining...

In distant dark places

2007-01-11T23:55:00.000Z

Weak! He said it in the car driving home. I was shocked. I was under the impression that it was obvious that I no longer encouraged the others behaviour, she had noticed, why hadn't he. I've given up on settling or understanding or complaining. Things will never change until I leave.

I looked at past photo's, my back circled like a cat, I guess it'll never change. It's all too late now.

to the end...

2006-12-28T00:43:00.000Z

The song comes back to me, words of transformation fit the beautiful cold music that runs through my ears.

Moments that could never be scripted seem to be happening closer and closer together...

...I smile at the comment and at it all...

His book smells of his studio. I inhale it just a little, just to make sure the smell never runs out. This is not about sex.

I'm sorry for all the problems I have caused with you...

2006-12-10T22:58:00.000Z

In his moment of pain he set me free. Can you believe that I felt caged. His questioning cut my wings. I woke up this morning fresh. Smiling. The small black fly that has taken up residence in my room sits on my white flower plastic lamp. I watch it for a while and decide if he is there tomorrow morning I'll name him. Everything is fine and gone. My concentration is back. I am back and he is definately gone.

I've got a wealth of new ideas

2006-12-09T17:12:00.000Z

Sunday.

My shock of you never having had peanut butter over shadows how aware I am of you watching me move around my kitchen, chopping the walnuts and pears and sprinkling the blueberries evenly into two bowls. This is our first breakfast. I should realise that here is a step forward. We sit having breakfast you smell fresh from the shower. Later I note how neatly you've folded my towel and picked up some of my clothes off my floor, except the bra, I smile. I image we smell the same, you thank me for the most healthy breakfast you've ever had. I wonder if I wasn't so good for him would he stay a bit longer.

I fresh start again...again...again...again...again...again

2006-11-29T16:29:00.000Z

Relieving pressure.

2006-11-25T12:18:00.000Z

I turned around the moment it started spitting, watching the rain begin to fill my windowpane. I found a song, that I listen to over and over AGAIN. A boy with his guitar telling me words I'’m finding a strange kind of comfort in. "Eyes are wider than before, so little has changed but your eyes are seeing much more."”
The rain outside becomes heavy and distracting. I feel nervous again, my hands clammy as I wonder about tonight if indeed there is a tonight. A picture of him temporarily sits on my desktop, a secret. Please don'’t tell a soul. I'm surrendering myself to him now, not that I fully understand what it is I'm surrendering to; to him or the consequences of the show or my heart. I shake my shoulders lose and try and work, but all I want to do is write to you. I look at all the pictures and words I've collected over the last few months I've dotted on the wall around my desk. Our feet are entwined, i'm in his arms. I feel so pretty sleeping next to you.'’ My eyes dance again and find '‘drunk and distroyed he kissed, because he knew he could and he knew I would let him and said the thing that i was waiting, wanting to hear.'

Then again, cause we all move in circles.

2006-11-24T18:54:00.000Z

If he loves me then why does he leave. If he loves me then why does he leave. Don't say goodbye like you are burying him
cause the world is round and he might return.

Drunk, pretty, unraveling nervousness and under heartfelt suspition I tried to talk to R, my foot shaking, taping. I told him I couldn't keep it still, the other had come to my show, bringing my restlessness. That he was watching me. That hopeless look searching for something else in me, stirring something i forgot existed, him and me. I told him that I was angry at myself, for the continuing whatever this was, that I've changed in a thousand ways this past year, but he's the last part of me to disappear. He said something like when you have electricity with someone it never just fades, especially when neither of them want to it.

Surprisingly he approached us joining our conversation and R taking a silent queue bid me farewell and congrats on my piece. The brown eyed man came closer and perched on the seat and our bubble enveloped both of us. I shouldn't stop shivering. I watched him, too closely, it felt like a million years since we were this close, but still familiar and natural. He talked about our anniversary, the night on the plot in the mist and orange glow of London on that early cold morning that I hoped would have also brought a happy ending for me and him, together. (he had remembered everything, like crystal, like me). He told me how much he'd changed, definitely trying to not say the words 'sorting out his shit.' That he no longer smoked, slept around. I let it slide over me, trying not to read into him.

For the first time in such a long time, i lived in the moment, not thinking about wanting to kiss him, or taking him to my bed, or even beyond the words coming out my mouth. That there was full content in just being with him. Like the evening we met in the pouring rain at Euston. Him sitting quietly waiting, working on his laptop. I was so happy later sitting with him and the stranger who commented on my bruising worryingly in the daggy pub round kings cross. He said it had been a while since he had had a good time. He said it again to me that night. Songs like 'Naive' and 'All I have' played on the TV, songs I can no longer listen to... Again suspended I wait for the fall or drop.

Long time...Still coming...

2006-11-20T00:54:00.000Z

My soul has been very supportive about moving on, away from the boy I wanted to build boats for. I thought that was the clever idea. Then I dreamt about him. When I woke up I was in love with him. And nothing else. All the memories come back, they seem fresh and soar. We are coming up to our anniversary. When we were introduced at my private view.
The moment I keep on going back to now is after he kissed me we stood silently on the plot behind P’s house at 3 in the morning. After a kiss so feverish I seem still intoxicated from, does he feel the same as I do. I wanted to tell him when I woke up, why can’t we sort this out, why can’t it be easy with us. There’s something that’s beginning to shock me now, it’s the length of this sordid fixation we seen to have for each other.
I was at university standing with my friend and the technician in full conversation about our plan of action on a certain piece, our heads bowing around the drawings we were making. I felt him come in the room, come close enough, I looked up, him with his cappuccino and kit-kat, he gave me this look (i couldn’t read nor remember now, i think maybe he wanted me to follow him out) and then walked out. I made sure my upward look was momentary and continued with the conversation. My point is ‘ need to’ or ‘no need.’ He didn’t need to walk in, make his presence known and there was no need for him to walk into the wood workshop. Why didn’t he say something to me, why does he never say anything to me.
I find myself inviting him to new latest private view. His message is short and I change my response and its tone; friendly and sweet. He catches bite and his messages become softer, just a little and then I say something I know he wont be able not to respond to. “please don't be angry with me any more. it was such a long time ago... “ “I’m not angry no more, luv. (I don’t know if he’s trying to be cryptic or didn’t think about his message) I know it’s a lie, but maybe now things can be different... I hope for this now for another time. FOOLISH. But things are going to happen for me this week, i’m confident that something is going to happen.

E-N-O-U-G-H.

2006-11-11T13:17:00.000Z

ENOUGH.

I know what you are but what am I?

2006-11-08T22:04:00.000Z

We dance together to the softest piece of music. And we touch each other as if we were lovers. This is a lovers dance. Do you hear that, a dance for lovers. My latest debate is the ending. There was not for one moment that I thought it would be happy. It was about whom was going to leave whom. Now my realization hits with a wave of sadness. It was about was she going to leave him brokenhearted or was it him to leave first. But I'm trying to heal wounds, and this time she wont be left broken. This time it will work. Personal growth as I write.

10.11.06, 11:00
I am so angry with her, her insensitivity hurt. How can she be that way. I told her it was over before it even began. I think there is truth in that, the tragedy arrived as soon as we met, when we spoke, when he kissed me. It's already here. I can smell it.

circle touching circle.

2006-11-08T16:52:00.000Z

Both of our movements are so abritrary to each others, most of the time, that we hardly ever see each other. And sometimes it's that we only just dont meet. That's the feeling, I know I'm correct. Sometimes I find myself looking back over my shoulder and see him circling the other way.

But there's another circle that I want to hoola hoop... i just hope he wants me too. My positivity is failing and i'm being distracted. But it is him I want. But I'm now aware I never get what I want, and only what I need. Maybe I'll learn to need this one.

How to fix a broken heart...

2006-11-03T16:32:00.000Z

... With the softest of words.

We lay entwined, home found, snuggled under his arm.

"I can hear your heart, it's talking to me."
"What's it saying, is it good or bad."

I know he's asking me if it still sounds broken.

I answer him honestly.
"Not sure yet, haven't listened to it before, I can't tell."

Is there anything more lovely then to be gazed at when silent. That your pure being is adoringly interesting.

Why are we so afraid of change, it's the shell that kept us safe from the other that now seems to be peeling, breaking away. I feel neither confident or reassured even though I probably should be. How do you tell him that you are just as fragile as he. That when you said you wanted to wait was for the exact same reasons as his.

I made a mistake tonight, and paid for it momentarily. He was angry, he still is angry. After all this time. I made a joke, something he said to me in the line after lunch that seemed perfect.

"I've apologized so many times, why haven't you let it go. I've tried to be your friend."
"when, there was no belly dancing, there was no homemade meal"

It spilled out of him so easily, it passed between his ears and sweetly fell from his lips.

I asked him about the belly dancing and he said No. I felt foolish and impatient, when 'my' maybe he isn't my, but when the other called and his voice happy and laughing at my stupid story in the underground. I don't find it difficult to admit my stupidity I just wish I would move away from it, and him, and all my past and all the worrying, all the time. I just want to breath out continuously.

Venus if you do, i will always be true...

2006-11-03T15:53:00.000Z

make my wish come true.

You’ve been gone a while when I wake up too late for my lecture. My room still smells of us. I decide to buy Suskinds perfume, not because I want you to know i’ve read it and you’ve stuck to me, because the glue hasn’t set yet, but i want to speak the way you did when you whispered to me last night about the intoxication that made it impossible not to. There’s something about your passion that makes me smile breathlessly when least expected that keeps me with you, keeps you with me. I like that, this slow burn and your kisses in your texts. There’s something deeply special about you that I feel is a secret that only I know, only I see. I’m sure that itsn't true, but your gentlness and horny hands make me think........just a little less than normal.

Just talking

2006-11-02T00:48:00.000Z

The beautiful painter questions me about the oscar wilde quote. (Who would have believed that I would ever quote him.) And I do nearly believe it that if we did something (interestingly) immoral once we will always do it again, even though it is not as simple as that. Now looking back I think it quite sad. I do think if we could justify the act once then we could probably justify it twice and even a third... The sexual tension between us turns somehow the issue towards cheating, either of us use the word, but I know that's what he is thinking. We can both feel it's about cheating. How do I know that.

And then there's the ghost, who came looking for me, but I was already gone. Wishing for another to call me. How can this man act this way with me. Rude and arrogant, and then tender and sumblimily affectionate. There is no winning with this one. Seriously, just when you think it's all finally resting, he'll choke you back to life and you wont know the Fuck what just happened. R told me that we looked good together. I answered surprised at his comment with 'why, when we are at each others throats' ' especially then.'

I wish he would reconsider the length of this sideburns and me.

Something sad

2006-10-29T00:48:00.000+01:00

I often feel my life happens to me while i’m waiting for something else to happen.Is that something sad?...I imagine that we are arguing, that my cheeks are red with anger and him calm. He tried to touch me but I push him away. He’s making the big gesture and deep within; under the anger rejoice is ringing. I feel the broken record turning. I can’t believe I’m back here again. Obviously not wanting to let him go, he seems to have remained in the background ready to resurface whenever he feels like it. Bastard. We still feel each other in the room, I can’t not smile or look and I can see that it’s the same for him too. When he walked into the office to say something. Playing it cool I tried not to read him, but he was called away and he never said to me what he hoped. His words never left him and I feel sick. I bounce between the same two. I feel like I’m going to be alone for the rest of my life. I can’t feel anything beyond this loneliness that eats at me now.

I pray something picks me up...

2006-10-28T19:46:00.000+01:00

We were both talking to our friends, not paying each other any kind of attention when he leaned in and softly swept my fringe away from my eyes, delicately his fingertips touched me skin. "Your fringe was being all arrogant." Startled I didn't move, from my perch in The Old Blue Last. S. gave me the look and I shuck my head, no more from this one.

Opus 23

2006-10-26T18:47:00.000+01:00

It's not like an ugly feeling. It's like a small wave that starts to surface close to my stomache and washes along past my heart into my head where is waits to be recognised. I bought a pair of underwear today. I pictured myself standing infront of him in them. JINXED. I wish i were back in london, and surrounded by crowds and lost again. But I'm alone in my family home waiting for something to happen, from him, maybe from me. I consulted an online magic eight ball and it's words were cruel and possibly correct. I can't forget last night and his drunkness and his honest words 'You never call XX kisses X' so at 18.45 i let it go for 4 rings and I lost my nerve and hung up. I am petrified. Another wave rolls up...the feeling that it's coming to an end...

The end of the affair.

2006-10-24T20:53:00.000+01:00

All that is really demonstrated was that our future would be the same as out past, and that the sin we had done once, and with loathing, we would do many times over

Oscar Wilde

Weren’t you just somebody I slept with. In an hour when things seem less certain then they did at 7. I feel myself wounded, by myself and others. By passed words and words that lingered but were never said are haunting me. They asked me questions I wasn’t prepared to answer. In the process of the piece I forgot what is was about, and standing solid and still in the gallery there was some comfort in the fact that they didn’t fully understand its truth and you. The space hollow and empty projected my anxiety about what is happening to me. The lack of control I have over the new; how he seems to be with me always, while kept at a distance. Does he think about me. Yes? He is what I asked for, something new and fresh. But it’ll never be these, because I am still here, the old will always be in the bond. I will never vanish and my insecurities draw me back to the man on the hill. Oh wont you treat me for my disease. The black heart. My romance in empty like the caste that stands pink, cold and coffin like in the corner waiting to be read. I CAN’T CRY. I look at this object and without thought it is me, to its core. It drained me and I feel left and neglected to now smash up. Hoping to restore some kind of former glory. Where did that girl go, the one that seemed so sure of it all and herself. I wonder if our parallel lines will join and defer, like all the others. I say I can’t take another, but that is a big fat lie. Nothing is ever enough.

Ready to escape

2006-10-22T15:42:00.000+01:00

My attention is restored when I hear the rain starting. I’ve forgotten how long i’ve been here, the bath water is still. I sink further in and fully submerge exhailing. There’s something about holding him at arms lengths that comforts me and then reminds me how close it’s all becoming. I’ve been too busy to worry about such trival things such as boys and it’s always a lovely surprised when my phone announces his thoughts, sweet thoughts with kisses. I come up for air and rest my head on the lip. I go over and over as always, phrases and words circle. My sisters words the strongest. ‘I can just tell, when you spoke he starred at your lips.’ He starred at my lips. Dyed red for him, colour on my lids. I had waited and waited, and was just about to give up, I saw him rushing in. What a fool, but more sadness then foolishness. I’m jaded and soured. I am already half out the door, ready to make an escape, to become the victim of another failure.

To dream of white rats denotes...

2006-10-17T22:13:00.000+01:00

To see rats in your dream, signifies feelings of doubts, guilt and/or envy. You are having unworthy thoughts that you are keeping to yourself but are eating you up inside. Alternatively, it denotes repulsion. To see a white rat in your dream, denotes that in your time of distress, you will receive assistance from an unexpected source.

I woke with relief, wondering why. something passed me, possibly in the night or maybe that afternoon, but my breathing seems less quick and... i close my eyes and... i'm trying not to think too much... but there's a little voice in the back of my mind that i can't bring myself to tell you what she's saying.

I go back to holding my breathe, just for a little bit longer.

white to blank.

2006-10-16T19:57:00.000+01:00

There's no hiding now. He's cut off all my hair, and i now have to face the music, they say. It's almost like he's thrusting me to over come my over riding insecurities. But there is only so much i can do and i cried for too long last night. worringly things are definately coming to a head and i hope that when the jump arrives i wont be doing it alone. I almost didn't think about him today. Which was in fact not much of an effort. I think the patients thing is kicking in. I'm almost at a blank on what's about to happen next, i see tonight, sitting round a table in a pub with my friends. Tomorrow in the workshop and dancing at the Laban..... and then blank.

Dreams come true, but not for me and you

2006-10-10T13:43:00.000+01:00

still laughing, which is all we seem to be doing these days, she hands me the metro. 'have you read your horoscope'

Dreams can come true, in relationships just as much as in other arenas. Sometimes the boy really does get the girl. And vice versa. I know there are a few lions out there who’ve soured to the whole relationship deal lately. Give it another go this week.

But it's right I am too sour and i dimiss it, but yet i am writing to you now.

all i have left is time and patients.

small sad victory.

2006-10-09T16:46:00.000+01:00

All sunday I laughed, at myself and some at him. How i had left him in the middle of the night, how i would disappear out of his life and become a mystery... the one that got away. that made me smile, a sad small victory. i found a poem i had written a few years ago about nights like that, and i see the change in me, another small sad victory. as i park my car on my return to the city and my other life she questions 'who's wallet it this?' picking the left object off my car floor. I feel my cheeks blush, like a slap in the face. i try to stand still but can't. i find his card and leave a message on his phone. why couldn't it have been a simple exchange? this is not the beginning of something, i feel that deep into my bones, i wont prelong something that needn't be. i promise that to myself.

... Silently I knew it was coming...

2006-10-08T21:17:00.000+01:00

his arm heavy on my chest i watch him sleep in the darkness of his room. he seems so vulnerable breathing a million miles away, so peaceful too. so real and human, the icon faded. this handsome man helpless and shattered, he whispers over and over for me to stay, to sleep all night but lying here wanting to kiss his pretty face i am already gone, because i don't care and i have won the game he has no idea about. my symbol tonight looked at me the way i had waited for and kissed me all better, thank you.

Sundays are for loved ones, only!!

2006-10-01T19:38:00.000+01:00

Vases and Vases of peach, pink and yellow roses fill house and its air. A sweet smell from another sweetest of sweet days

She asked me if it was difficult, to be around him, like we do. Honestly, no. It's never difficult and always lovely. I think about this and realize when I'm with him I feel that he would never want to be anywhere else. A really simple feeling but satisfying and more than enough. We walked soaked with the storm following us and came across piles and piles of roses left from Columbia market for people to pick. I filled my arms with them. A snap shot was taken. The rain falling fast and hundreds of roses lying in my arms and him telling me his stories. How he had made me laugh in the coffee shop about his horror story and I was taken back to the beginning when he used to tell me stories and he used to laugh like that. I forgot how long it's been. It's as if I stopped being his friend and became a 'something else' and now I'm back there again, and there's nothing else I could possibly want.

Couldn't

2006-09-20T12:51:00.000+01:00

I couldn’t even tell you why I told him. I couldn’t even tell you why I broke and stopped being honest. I couldn’t tell you why when he asked me I said no. When I meant yes. With the boat in his hands we walked through the huge crowds that were gathering on the walk ways along the Thames. I couldn’t have picked a worse time. I couldn’t have felt more sick. I couldn’t stop wanting to stop and look at him and take his face and kiss him better. I couldn’t take back my words that had now made me angry. I couldn’t even convince him that it wasn’t his fault; that I wasn’t disappointed in him. I couldn’t then tell him it was a mistake. not my feelings but the timing. Always our timing. We started to walk aimlessly and twilight appeared and while we silently walked in torture and city became romantic and epic. Trafalgar square lit red for the concert and stopped. Enough. I couldn’t take any more. I couldn’t wait any longer. I couldn’t hold my tears from falling. We stepping onto the underground and he moved closer to hold me, I shook my head and got on the train. No happy endings for this girl, this time.

scribbling

2006-09-12T15:26:00.000+01:00

I wish and wonder for something truely romantic to take me over. I go over yesterday in my head. Her scribbling down my words turning them to fact, how strange it is to talk about yourself so openly. I hope the cure will work with the moon growing big. And some sort of happiness will come.

See you soon

2006-09-10T22:17:00.000+01:00

I sat in his kitchen staring at the crate of apples that sits at the bottom of the garden, near the tree house. It's one of the last summer days, lazy and longing, his parents sleep in deck chairs. He plays me songs on his guitar, his knees bouncing, his heart pouring. Oh my dear friend. We travelled through the worst. I remember crying over you and my mistake and wishing for my friend to come back. You did. And you hug me and I know this will be till the end. What more can I ask for. You give me everything I need. Sitting at your computer you mention how you found the book I made you for your birthday, how special it was, and said sorry in case he hadn't shown his true appreciation. And I cry.

Despite snake and spite.

2006-09-09T18:56:00.000+01:00

He looked at me as if I were an angel and he in love. I blushed and told him to stop, his friend made a comment to concur. "please." An older gentleman explained for his early departure to the party. My friend stood, shook his hand and said he would look after helena when she came to visit. Safe in the knowledge he replied 'I wish you best in all that you do' and left. I sniggered at the comment. He sat back down, close next to me and called me "still a snake. your sharp tongue." He shook his head.

He knew me, everything, bad and good, snake and spite. And still loved me whole. When will there be a time when I can do that to another. Time speeds already, if i can't now, does that mean I forever wont?

Scream before they pick your bones

2006-09-09T12:38:00.000+01:00

kill me,

it's-gonna-kill-me.

I want to rip out his heart and eat it, tasting the sinus, savouring the feeling of accomplishment, over coming all that past between us. I wanted more than he could ever give. The hatred he has for me, is now my poison. I want to fuck him up. He doesn't deserve any of this, and either did I. I spent the last night thinking simply of the colour, of my blouse and the bra I wore, not even realising that you would be the one to remove it. The hat you placed upon my head and the heat you cause. I shivered next to you as you ran your knuckles down the my middle. perfect. our open mouths reaching. You're my favourite of the none believers, you were my greatest sin and now this broken boy that wont heal himself i’m finishing with you. I want you to see me and feel your heart missing, the cave empty, your breathing shortens, the blood drains and realise that in fact we have scared each other for life. No red coat or poetic words will undo the ache. But I'm younger than you, my elasticity still remains and already I yearn for another who fills me right up. I smile at my words. I know that he is disappearing from me, my health restoring. No more.

the shortest of shorts

2006-09-08T18:42:00.000+01:00

You look like you haven'’t eaten in months. Her cheeks a little hollow now. She smokes too much and I wish I had her legs. We sit in front of each other nodding through the silence. I wish I were still on the train reading my book, or still in the architects bed.

Leaning back on our blue sofa I try and throw green olive pips out the window, but it's only slightly open and they hit the window pane leaving an oily residue before falling three floors. I decide not to ever clean it.

In a dark crowded room full of strangers we all watch the puppets move to the dramatic haunting orchestra. I think about dating puppeteer, about how intricately he moves his fingers. Obviously that’s purely for the foreplay.

I think about my destination. I think I'm moving with my arms folded. A gesture too negative for my new leaf. I watch the man infront of me on the tube, with lovely brown skin and blue shirt. I'’ve come back to my city, with all the men in navy suits and blue shirts. Our eyes catch each other, and relize that we are mirroring each other. Arms crossed. I try not to smile.

So old people still do have sex? We try not to think about it, and both go back to our mac screens. I hear what she is writing and then asks me. It's nonsensicalnsical. I wish I was getting better. It's been a while.

It's been a while since words formed to sentences for me to write. The east side of the world made me thoughtless. I hated been stared at, I was too tall and too blonde and too fat. I look at the black outlined silver stars placed on our livingroom wall and that soon will be taken down and will never be seen again.

The boat that I bought for him sits on my desk on top of the books I savoor this. We are sitting in front of each other, or we might be standing, and I try and picture his face when he sees his present. Will there be love in him, love for me?

I don't know what you are talking about. I’ve lost what we are trying to say to each other in the midst of the bullshit we send to each other. I smell the card sleave of arcade fire, a band that will forever remind each other of each other. I smile at the title of the first song, Old flame.

A new leaf

2006-09-04T23:20:00.000+01:00

I've been telling everyone how I've grown, out of you and the mess that was caused out of the beginning of this year. In forms of words both told and written. But now I'm home. I go between the boat I bought for the boy who taught me how to fish and the man I thought I had released. As she told me I know that I would have to wait until I truely knew if he was flushed. Hope and wish and pray he is gone from me, wholy.

Talking to his animal

2006-08-21T12:42:00.000+01:00

The 15 year old boy talked to the elephant. His words were strong but kind. He told th elephant for some help and obligingly he held out his trunk and raised the little boy up onto his head. When moving the boy wearing his smart blue shirt and swimming trucks rubbed his foot on the bottom of the animals ear. That was something like love and affection.

LOST, but not for good!

2006-08-11T13:38:00.001+01:00

I am lost in a paradise. I see on a small TV screen that the outside world is falling part around me. But I like million miles away. On another planet, in another solar system, where it rains for five minutes everyday and the land dries within seconds. All day long my mind relaxes. I think not of home, not of art, not of boys, not of life. I THINK NOT. I don't think I've ever thought with this kind of mind before. It's a wonderful feeling. My soars are scaring; the salt water washes away the infection that wouldn't let go and it's beyond happiness that makes me smile within. I am just being. All I do all day is look, not judging or scrutinizing. Just lazy eyes on all this bright and beautiful. The freckles on my nose are now brown and my hair bleached by the sun. I am a child of the sun, he is my father that energies me. Oh how I worship him, bright and gold and round.

What is with our obsession over birds

2006-07-26T22:26:00.000+01:00

i watched the bird move his head side to side, unclean and jerky. a way a mental person moves theirs. i thought that its bones had been put together wrong. that its make-up was faulty. and i began to wonder if humans were faulty like that too. that we too malfunctioned without a definition or a second thoughts.

planning while hot and sticky...

2006-07-25T23:08:00.000+01:00

We discuss taking over the world one descriptive piece at a time. The heat is over powering and the small fan slowly fills her room, that looks lived and loved in. posters and prints dot her wall. I love one print, a black heart shaped spot with the text, which i can’t read, is it mine or her heart up there, charcoal black, pined to her wall. she tells me about some of the projects she has planned for next year. i wanted in to be involved. that’s all i seem to be thinking about now, what i am going to do. there’s no living in the moment, just as soon as i get back i’m to work and away from spending time with myself. There has been too much ‘ideal’ thinking which helps noone, especally my charcoal heart, that keeps on hurting. i want to stop thinking about boys and work and work until they effect me no more.

Why?

2006-07-23T23:49:00.000+01:00

It's one of those perfect london days, the sky's blue is the same as my favourite of his shirts and his look is waiting for the moment when everything would make sense and that my mind would be made up. " She said she wasn't sure, but it could be a wind up... she clearly knew her own mind but did she know her own heart, he wondered." But i'm not even sure about any of this. And I constantly correct myself not to kiss him.

Boys will forever drive me wild and climb trees. And sometimes they both happen at the same time.

One day I will no longer write about boys... But until then

2006-07-23T20:27:00.000+01:00

12.07.04

Adem

I wash hard between my toes
across my chest
between my legs
along my neck
where you kissed me last night
I want to wash you away
my exquisite sin
and all it's mischief
with all it's hurt
I try to repent my sin
But for all the guilt
and the smell of fresh soap
I can't stop thinking about you.

23.07.06

I found an old journal hiding and collecting dust in my home in London and really not knowing why brought it to H with me this weekend. He was a guy I kept hooking up with for a while but never got together. He was the most incompatible person I could have ever been attracted to. But when he moved closer, kissed me. We both knew that our bodies would fit and work perfectly together. I've never felt anything like that with someone I lusted after. It was purely primal and physical. It felt so sexy. To the coincidence. An introduction to P.

When I was in my early years of secondary school and things were hard. I was awkward but didn't know it, and what's more sad was I didn't know how to change. So my hope was one day 'we'll, the bullies and I' would be too old for this. That other things would be far more important like A levels, university, sex and contraception. Not that I knew what that was at the time. For me that was a finishing line that was in sight, only a few more years. It was the moment one became a prefect. When the girls wore office skirts, suit jackets and pretty shirts. While the boys wore suits, all different shades of navy. They looked so hansom and distinguished. Like young happy men that took his small kids to the swimming pool on Sundays, while mummy could have time off, 'time for herself.' but in hindsight they were still boys, and not even close to becoming a man. But what did I know. Close to nothing. There was one in particular that when he passed in the hallway I would hold my breath in hope that eye contact would touch him and that he would see something special in me that no-one had ever seen. And I would be released from the torment of the other girl. But he never did and nobody ever saw me. And I left school at 16 and never became one of those A level students with their big A4 folders and thick text books. Now we fast forward a couple of years, nine to be exact. And somehow I'm standing in a circle with my great friend k and her friends. And this symbol that never saved me stands next to me. We are introduced and is surprised at his own lack of recollection of me from his school days, "How did I not know you." He hasn't changed a single bit or maybe my memory of him is lost in delusion. With the same naughty smile, that for the first time is aimed at me. And there we were in our little bubble of pure sexual tension that makes it impossible not to touch each other. But it's clever and subtle and I've waited for a long time for a moment like this to happen i almost miss this look that's appeared on his face and before I even have time to totally comprehend what is about to happen to me, our lips meet. But I'm don't move to dance to his and I pull away. Because I'm no longer that girl and he still is 'that boy.' Looking at it with an unbiased view there's chemistry there that neither of us act upon but both enjoy seeing how each other reacts to our move and looks. Back to the connection. I had the same deep to the pit of your stomach feeling as I did with Adem. It's this pure and raw sexual connection, that I have with these totally incompatible men. Our lives would never 'somehow' fit together. WHY?

Our eyes met again last night and there was that look and that smile. I was speaking with a male friend and when he walked right up behind me and passed, he ran his thumb along the small of my back and carried on walking. It sent an electric surge right up my spine and goose pimples dotted my arm. I hope feelings like that will never change as we grow older. But I know they will... But for the moment.

To be...

2006-07-16T23:37:00.000+01:00

I think about erasing you for myself, my memory, your lips, my skin. Only to be... better for myself.

Just a phase

2006-07-16T22:34:00.000+01:00

We sit at our usual seats at the usual time. talking as we do. He walks in and i try to pay no attention, as does he. 'he's trying so hard not to notice you it becomes so obvious' i like her words, but he is still angry. With all my might i add, i know his issues are mine, how can i be hypocritical and pissed off. i just hope my problem is a youth thing and i'll have sorted it out by the time i'm thirty. and we give each other this look. i know she worries about her guilt, about being too clever, too beautiful, too priviledged. too it all. and in this moment we worry that we're never going to change, that we are now who we are, and will be for the rest of our life. That it will not pass 'casual' with a boy, and that her guilt willl always plague her. and we start laughing, laughing from our stomaches, laughing from all the way in. and we can't stop, and people start to are stare, to catch the joke. But there is no joke and we can't stop, because if we do, in this minute, we will cry. and we really do want to, but there are no more tears left.

where do those unread emails disappear to?

2006-07-12T00:49:00.000+01:00

I write to you with a massive prefectly round eggshell yellow moon dancing between the black leaves of my tree just outside my room at my folks house. I seem to have made another small office where i spend most of my hours in. There’s something about a high backed chair, my ibook, books i need to read on the windowsil and my old journals around me that make me never want to leave my room. but i do, i moved from one wooden table to another.

I sat arcoss the beautiful mahogany squared table in a sickeningly new and trendy bar full of people who think they’re cool but not, just a judgement call. i try to explain what i had written in the email that has somehow disappeared to where all unrecieved email end, floated around with atoms and molecules never to be recovered. And of course i can’t articulate myself, as usual. and when i come to the point about it isn’t because i now can’t have him, i want him. she gives me that face. The face you get when your bestfriend thinks your lying. the face that i get off him when he thinks i’m being shit. But i stand up for myself. it’s only later did i realise he could have been mine. i never thought he wanted me to be his. in his oh so formal way, it think his words were. 'i think about you, and being your boyfriend, and it does cause me friction.' yesterday was spent thinking a lot about the man on the hill. but my recovery has been so quick, the quickest to date. and when before i talked about how feelings never seem to fade. maybe they dont, but the time spent pondering and then recovering shortens and shortens until they just no longer matter, that they become fleeting thoughts and disappear with all those unread emails.

when love is possible...

2006-07-11T01:12:00.000+01:00

i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry. Is that enough to take the sharpness of your tongue. i hope i hadn't ruined your night, your painting was beautiful.

If there is no way out, the only way out is to give in

2006-07-10T23:40:00.000+01:00

The irony of life is more funny then i care to remember. More funny than painful possibly, But only through adaptation, no? So these kind of 'moments' that seem to come more frequently now have scared me; not because of the pain or the consequences that never seem to fade. It's for how little control i have over it all. when i had to turned the painters offer down i was bitter, i cursed at him (not my crush, God) and his world, for ruining my chance. but then something else happened. An invitation to a party held by a tall (oh so tall) brown eyed man. Who had suddenly reappeared again after christmas, sitting diagonally across from me not listening to his colleges staring at me while i played with my paper boat, coy. who was suddenly walking round my private view and asked me if my cheeks were always this red, and had looked, looked right into me as we parted, ‘yes, actually it was uhm interesting.’ Do you know what i mean when THEY-LOOK-RIGHT-THROUGH -YOU. Those are the looks that a girl brought up on old hollywood films lives for. When his friend gave me his address, my heart almost feel out of my mouth. i had a shift that night too. But this time, i called in sick. If i had gone to Sotherby’s, then i would never have gone to the party. There are things in life that were meant to happen, some of them are the smallest events and some last a life time. For me this was my example that my dye has been cast and all i have to do is ...

And i hurt him the truth i had for him to help myself un-nerved him and i'm not sorry. but i couldn't have been more apologetic on the phone He wasn't shouting, but there was so much angry, SO-MUCH-ANGER. There was one thing i wish i hadn't said. But i did and we should see what happens next. Because there's going to be a next...

... 15th June

The text weakend me. Sent " Your prints were really peatiful (private joke.) an ex-friend. " Fucker, i wish he's leave me be.
And always in moments of distress and anxiety i turn to metro's horoscope. It read "You have to assert yourself. Even if it does challange someone elses deeply held beliefs and risks hurting them. You've been hurt enough in your time and it's time for all of this silliness to stop. so assert away.

Blistering brown eyes

2006-07-10T22:37:00.000+01:00

So he quietly arrives, which is a surprise, i always feel them coming, like that smell before a storm, of burnt grass and electricity in the air. somehow he's less like the others. Our moments are exquisite and i write, cause i'm scared if i don't i'll lose them.

And because i can't keep hold of anything. There's the standard final page where i wish him the best but with a bitter bite. "Butter fingers." And i promise 'that would be the last page i write on him.' For the longest while i keep my promise, 40 pages. Then something else came, so much later, so out of the blue and oh so beautiful... and then a certain calm. I'm on a train full of stranger refusing to tell her the details on why i'm on one at 9:05am going home to change. But in the process everyone who's listening knows exactly why. And she's laughing. Here we go again.

Tryingnottothink.
I look down, hiding my expression of slight pain
Red faded hearts dot my nickers
and a small red bow stiched at the front
I am his little girl, with my little girl hair cut
that i thought made me look like a boy
Jeff buckley plays out of my sisters stereo
All of a sudden I'm back at your house on the hill
the night of the infamous party
we played jenga, you cheated.
And I kissed you to lilac wine.
You haven't been easy to let go

How dare you sit there with your cappacino and that face. jealousy is ugly! but i'm still glad you reek of it. It's your frustration beginning to show. I see it when you take the piss at every oppotunity, and kiss me slowly in front of my friend and yours and flirt with my girlfriend ridiculasly and especially now you cant talk to me. peter pan, grow up, fall, you would be caught. the irony is i'll never let you know. cause i'm not the one, am I?

Words about 'my old man.'

2006-07-08T00:51:00.000+01:00

24.02.06

NO seriously what role are you taking in my life. From the way you talk to the boys i spend time with... all i'm saying is i already have a father that dislikes all my boyfriends. And as for the role of jealous boyfriend, you've mistaken me for your actual long term girlfriend. Your behavior is more than flattering and i do love your taste in music. I think i'm more than satisfied with our little relationship.

15.03.06

E knows i can neither give or receive compliments well and he always laughs, knowing full well i'll never grow out of it. He stood with me at the to of the stairs as we were introduced to all of N friends. I could see pride through his smile. I do think this boy isn't like the rest.

I'm on the wheeled chair in my old mans office. a photograph taken on his 'new' camera appears on the scene and he plainly says beautiful. Usually my compliments are all sexually charged, which makes it easy to dismiss them. I blush again and mumble something stupid. what do you say when someone says you're beautiful, straight from out of the blue. I know our friendship is good for me.

19.04.06

Note: I no longer talk to myself... I talk to my old man... meaning? He's within my subconscious and more important than he'll ever know. He is now my own reason. The conversation 'we' (myself, I and him)

"I told you I wasn't his girlfriend. I don't want to belong"

"Why are you detached from your feelings like that?"

Aren't you too? I want things to be good and easy- for a while. And if I choose to have a boyfriend and be someone's i want it to be for love. But I'm not 'in' and being someone's makes things difficult because you become unnecessarily attached.

20.05.06

I dreamt that he's broken, dying. i hold him in my arms crying, rocking. i know in my real mind i'm so angry with him and (that this dream is beyond symbolic) as i touch his face. all i can feel his pain. Oh my dearest friend. i wish i hadn't been told.

01.06.06

HE looks at me worryingly. "i remember your face" That's all he said. i felt like reassuringly adding. You have no idea what it's like being me. it wasn't my heart, not even close. I wonder if it's even dormant or completely lost. It was my pride, my old man and in my world it heals almost instantly, because there's always another to be lost in..... And there's you.

Just his city

2006-07-08T00:14:00.000+01:00

OUR last day, we walk around his city, sat in his cafe and drank his coffee. This was never going to be as simple as we had hoped. Somehow I'm grateful.

There was magic above the odeon, it reminded me of the memory of love, or maybe how i felt when i was younger. it's been such a long time, i wonder if it's still possible.

Through a blue lens

2006-07-03T22:53:00.000+01:00

STILL now, I can't tell you what was strange about your trip for Anais ............................................still nothing, almost 6 months on. But the snow we travelled through on the Italian boarder, made me feel like love. Then after finding a place to sleep we decided on an early dinner. Walking along the lake in Montreux my dearest friend and i talked about it all, about everything that was going to happen beyond this point and our future seemed as endless as our youth.

And for 21 minutes the birds flew in this hypnotic cicular way, i felt transfixed, And slowly i started to feel more and more insignificant, that much bigger, unexplained things were at work, I worried a little less.

Letters to a loved one

2006-07-03T19:17:00.000+01:00

Love Letters, the sweetest of thoughts between two people. I made a book for a boy, and ironically called it the shortest of stories, little did i know we both wrote 6 pages each. Looking for something else i came across it, and all i wanted to do is start a fresh page and continue our story, but fear overides me again, so i linger with my epiphany. I possibly missed my moment. He was looking to me and i just wasn't ready. x

Oh so much sweeter

2006-07-03T19:11:00.000+01:00

IT'S the day after one of those days you knew was coming and the moment it happened, it was as good as it would have been if it were a genuine surprise. And the sun shone for more than 2 seconds, doesn't everything taste that little bit sweeter with the sun.

Strong words

2006-07-03T18:56:00.000+01:00

There is nothing worse than to hear true heart-wrenching anger from someone you want so much from. "You have no right to say those things to me, who do you think you are, you're just a child. how can someone so awful make such beautiful scultpures." He wasn't shouting at me, his voice wasn't even raised, It was pure anger, so primal and teeth grinding, It was the most honest he's ever been with me. I've only heard one man talk to me like this, just once before and that was love. BUt that was a long time ago, almost my previous life. I couldn't stop apologising through my smile. He was so shocked that a kid had had the nerve to tell him 'to sort his shit out.' There was love somewhere, mixed up between the lines. more things i can't seem to stop circling over.