forever

I don't feel like I need to justify the way I am to the people who read my blog. If you wanted to know why I'm such a bitch all the time you need to look elsewhere, as you will not find the answer in these posts. All you will find in these posts is the ramblings of a sixteen year old whose mind is coming loose.



photo from here

baby

"They're all gone, is that what you wanted? Because that's what you asked for."



photo from here

leaving

Fuck this. Fuck you.

This is too complicated. I'm done.



photo from here

where am i now

I was so certain, so sure, that I didn't love you, that I couldn't. And now, I don't know. I really don't know.



roberto rubalcava

unfortunate

There's something wrong with me. I don't want to get out of bed in the mornings. I have no motivation to do anything and I've spent hours staring at the desk, or the carpet, or the wall. One minute I'm fighting back tears, the next I'm laughing so hard it hurts, the next I'm trying not to hit somebody. I feel hopeless and drained and empty.



photo credit - eros something

blood

Humans love to play games. They love to manipulate and hurt each other and tell lies. They love to make people believe the wrong things in order to gain a little control in their actions. They love to be false.

I don't, am I still human?



photo credit - russian lady

"judge me"

You're very guarded, because somebody probably hurt you. And now you're afraid of being hurt again so you put up all these defenses. Like a window that's been broken so many times, and instead of replacing the glass you just tape over it, over and over again, until you can't see through it anymore - it's just tape. It won't break now, but it's not a window anymore.



photo by Albert Rasyulis

oh, darling

When I was just a small girl I lived on a farm, with my dad and my brother. One day we were walking around one of the neighbouring farms and we came across a whole field of dead sheep - sheep bones lay in sun-bleached piles all over the grass, tufts of wool were stuck in barbed wire fences. Most little children would have found this sight shocking.
But I wandered around, picking my way through the death, collecting bones here and there. My dad asked me what I was doing. I looked up at him with my big blue eyes (which have since turned green) and said, quite seriously, "I'm building a sheep."

tug

Sometimes I get this feeling like I'm on the brink of panic, like somebody has tied string around my ribs and they're gently, gently pulling, I can feel the worry, agitation, dread and fear swirling around in my chest and I know that there is nothing I can do about it.

And then something bad happens. Every time.



photo credit - popsongs

decay

I heard about this woman, she was a real freak, lived alone and never had any kids. They say she was real old, but I seen her and I swear she looked young. Anyway, she never said a word. I'd only ever see her if she was putting the bins out or getting the mail, she never had anybody over and she never went anywhere. No idea where she got her food from - maybe she just didn't eat. But whatever. So, this woman died in her bed. And because nobody ever went in there, and nobody ever noticed if she didn't come out, in her bed was where she stayed. But I heard that when they did find her, her house was untouched and pristine, and she had this cat - real old, one eye - that was just dozing in the sun like nothing had happened. She'd been dead for ages, they said. And every single day, at six in the morning, her alarm clock had gone off. 'Cause there was nobody who missed her, nobody. Nobody who would come in to see why she hadn't come in to work, nobody who would wonder where she'd been. But, like I said, she was weird.



photo credit - miche hart

I don't know why.

Your face is not familiar to me. I don't know the sound of your voice, of your laugh. I don't know your scent, the real colour of your eyes, what you look like in the sun. I don't think I would spot you in a crowd and I have probably walked right past you and stared right through you many times before.



photo credit - welcome, ghosts

best

1. I can't take it anymore.
2. You don't care.
3. Fuck this.



photo credit - i dont remember

hurricane

1. You're just perfect. So beautiful. You know how to play me and you know what to say, you make me smile and you make me laugh. You know me.

2. You're just perfect. So beautiful. You don't play me, you don't know what to say but you always say it right anyway. You make me smile. You make me happy. You don't know me, and I like it.

I can't let go of either of you.



photo credit - soft collapse

a tiny piece of me

I love opals because it's like having a tiny piece of magellanic cloud on a gold chain. I wear a chunk of the galaxy around my neck.



photo credit - miche hart

torn

one hand holds everything that broke me
the other holds everything that fixed me



photo credit - saga somebody

1

You spend most of your time staring at your fingernails, chipped and scratched blue nail polish on clean pink, varying lengths because stress drives you to gnaw at yourself. The inside of your mouth and lips is bitten raw, the evidence of many snatched back words. Not one single person could understand how low you feel, every single day. They've never had everything taken away from them. They've never had everybody turn against them again, and again. They put it down as spiteful negativity, nothing more than a stroppy teenager, nothing more than a bitch. They weren't there. They didn't see. They didn't feel it, that feeling like somebody reaching right inside you and pulling out every warm feeling, every simple pleasure, every sunny afternoon and every strangers smile. You have to push people away because they don't understand, they can't see inside. Maybe you don't want them to.
You don't want to know what's wrong with you. Because there's nothing wrong with you. You just need some time, because it's all coming back. Slowly.



photo credit - miche hart

earthquake

Never push people away. You never know when you'll want them back.



photo credit - myself

come back, baby, come back

Everything goes wrong, really wrong.
You feel bitter. You feel twisted. It's sickening how much power they have.
You start to think you'll never feel okay again, and how could you?
But then the sun comes back up again the next morning.
You're so insignificant. It starts to feel better.
You're still not happy, but it doesn't hurt as much.
It kind of helps that they still talk to you, completely oblivious of what they've done to you.
You feel like they still care.
But you don't care. Not anymore. Your heart plays hide and seek with other people.
You start to feel happy again.
Then you realise they don't actually care about you.
You realise they're not coming back.
You feel bitter. You feel twisted. It's sickening how much power they have.



I need my best friend.



photo credit - i'm sorry, i don't know!

grow up

hunt

We looked at a house in town today - Nicola, David and I. To anybody I would look like just another girl - mousey brown hair in a messy bob, a black and white shirt with reading glasses tucked into the collar, walking with a slight limp. The house was no good.



photo credit - i don't know, i think it's from here though

tiny

i am dressed up
in mothers finery
tiny toes in high heels
tiny fingers
holding on
big green eyes
smudged and smeary
painted black
always an alternative
to reality
i escape with
my dreams
hands on hips
i am leaving now
still dressed up
still playing pretend
making believe
i am stroppy
i am lost
i am still just a child.
tiny fingers
letting go.



photo credit - theo gosselin

i'm that little secret

Welcome to the city. Nobody is happy and everybody is full of problems. You all like to complain - even I am guilty of this. But, honestly, shut the fuck up. Nobody wants to hear it. We're all unhappy and we're all insignificant.



photo credit - Patrick Demarchelier for Vogue Paris

what I want

I want to be more than just a skeleton in heels. I want to find it before I know what I'm looking for. I want to make my father proud. I want to be listened to. I want to be needed. I want to become somebody new.
I want to be beautiful and I want to be loved.

But most of all I want a Snickers and a latte.



photo credit - emily

idiot.

No more of these 'plans', no more of this 'knowing what to do'. I have no idea what's going on. I think I'll just go along with it.
Don't be a stranger.



photo credit - kate pulley

coco

I am going to try to be as honest as possible, since you'll probably never read this.

I'm sorry about what I said last night. But if I hadn't said it I would be typing it here.

I have tried to forget about you but I don't want to forget about you. What I want is to close my eyes, real tight, and open them to find that none of this ever happened and we're back where we started.

I know this is my fault, I don't listen and I don't do what I should and I don't pick up on things and I should probably keep my mouth shut (ninety per cent of the time) and I'm impatient and irrational.

So this is why I'm just going to stop. You'll never read this. But I'm just going to stop trying.

this is how I feel:

Every time I think of it I feel sick. I feel like my insides are being torn in two by a pair of cold, ghostly hands. It physically hurts. And every time I think of her I want to hit somebody.



photo credit - lina scheynius

Here we go again. I thought I was doing so well.



photo credit - hola manola

fuck.

The people I love, they don't love me so much.
This has been a really bad day.



photo credit - i don't even know. fuck off.

it is just another day

I have never hated Saint Valentines Day before. It's just another day, surrounded by last minute sales at jewellers and busy times for florists.

Only the stupid and sentimental celebrate Saint Valentines Day.
(It's a comforting thought)



photo credit - christophe kutner

i feel sick.

Everybody needs to grow up, or shut the fuck up.



photo credit - elkie vantisphout

Part one: I want more from myself and nothing from you.

Part two: I had a dream last night that was so disturbing it still gives me chills.



photo credit - kiten22

"you know what I just realised?"

I'll never kiss you again.



photo credit - fionn nia atkinson

my final thoughts on this situation.

False hope feels like walking out onto a pier and finding that the wood has rotted through and you're falling. If you can't be in a relationship, don't get involved with people.
You could have avoided this, but it's over now.



photo credit - rachel

nothing and everything is wrong

I'm not going to lie to you, I feel terrible but I feel beautiful.



photo credit - leo tage

fibre

I want to go back to how it was before.



photo credit - lina scheynius

saint valentine

I am awake now. This is like opening your eyes for the first time in a long time. It's like stepping on glass, you are aware and cautious. Everybody likes to be happy. Except her. Being unhappy works. You stop being fragile because you need to stop being broken. She doesn't want to talk about it. She just wants to keep going.
She doesn't want to make friends, she doesn't want to love or trust. She wants to think and she wants to learn. She wants to destroy herself and build back from scratch. Happiness is fleeting, joy is fickle. Despair is solid.

Don't worry about me, I'll find my way back down.
I don't want to talk about it.



photo credit - viktor vauthier

this is all I have to say, for now.

I want to go back to when we were just pretending. I want to go back to when things weren't complicated. When we held hands under tables and shared stolen moments by the elevator.

Except you were the only one who was pretending.

You said you didn't want to hurt me but it's too late, and there's nothing I can do about it. My entire body aches for you, your voice, your smell, your touch.

It's not your fault, I'm basically unlovable. I don't blame you at all. I'm moody and unpredictable and full of problems. I'm too much work and I don't really matter that much to anybody. I need to be needed and this has always been a problem for me.

I didn't want you to be the boy I left behind. I didn't want this at all. Even though it is clear to me now that you never thought of me in such a way and I hate myself for being stupid and not realising.

So I guess that's it.



photo credit - kelsey

heart of stone

this poison makes my brain buzz
bittersweet and abundant
driving through my veins
tiptoeing through my heart
self destruction, I
am letting go now, I
am running away now, I
am breaking now
piece by piece
and part by part.




photo credit - unkown

uncertainty

Sometimes it isn't very clear whether or not a person actually means it when they say 'I love you'



photo credit - myself

shroud

One notebook is for secrets. One notebook is for stories. One book is for keeping track of myself. One book is for running away.
Two pens, blue and black. My glasses, in the blue case. Red lipstick. A camera.

Time for another cup of coffee.



photo credit - sabino

obsessive compulsive

photo credit - myself

qui sait le pourquoi

If you don't come over and pretend with me I'll pretend on my own.

Today is black coffee and messy hair and ripped black tights and a black lace bra, with a flannel shirt thrown over the top (also known as my pyjamas) and Paris Combo and ciabatta with camembert and pesto and high heels and paintings of Africa and being alone but not lonely.
No, I'm lying. Of course I'm lonely. I'm just starting to not care.

Today is being a Viktor girl in Paris. Today is being pretentious because make-believe makes me feel better. Today is a grey sky and tired eyes.



photo credit - myself

"an early night" part 8

Gen had a new boyfriend every month or two since she was sixteen, and the occasional girlfriend. They never lasted very long but Gen would always act besotted until she actually started to fall in love, then she would get scared and run away. She was a self-proclaimed commitment-phobe.
'So what are we doing tonight, anyway?' I asked, to break the topic off Adam.
'Well, there's not much to do on a Thursday night except put your feet up and watch telly. We could get Ally over, maybe. I don't think she has work in the morning.' So we called Ally and arranged for her to drive over.
Allison Viktor was our closest friend. It had always just been Edith and Genevieve, the two weird girls who did stupid things and kept to themselves, but then we met Ally at a party and kind of adopted her. She was tiny - skinny and a petite height of just four foot five - with long black hair and olive skin. She'd been with her boyfriend, Isaac, for two and a half years now. They lived together in a tiny house with some of Isaac's friends and Ally liked to escape whenever she could.
She'd finished high school at seventeen, excelling at most subjects, and was at university now where she found the work 'too easy'. Of course Ally was smart. She was quite and peaceful, she listened and picked up more than she let on. Sometimes she was so quiet that it seemed as though she didn't care what you were saying. People often thought that she was unfeeling. But that was just Ally, when you got to know her she would open up to you.



photo credit - caroline bonarde ucci

on the sly

"I guess it is just love"

I can't stand the way he treats her. He can be so good to her, treat her so well, until she starts to feel safe and comfortable again and then he turns it all off and leaves her in the dark. I don't want her to be used to disappointment. I want her to be happy. I want her. I want her to come over so that we can eat croissants and drink black coffee and smoke cigarettes on my little front porch.



photo credit - unknown

"drink before disaster"

I have no pretty way to put it:
School starts on the third of next month.

I have to admit that I'm actually looking forward to it. Last years crop of fresh faces was the most irritating, worse than the year before and even worse than my year. You're not an Unlimited student if you haven't affronted the new kids simply for being new kids. This year the outlook is grim, girls with large posteriors and even larger egos will be gracing the stairwells and trying too hard to be something they are not - grown up.

It's hard to say whether or not I had a nice day. It started nice, I mooched around in a comfortable over sized grey tee-shirt that swallows me whole and was visited by my best friend, Alexandra. She only came for a moment to collect her things but she gave me a cigarette and after she left I sat on the back porch, absorbing the sun and filling my lungs with both the sweet air of summer and the poison from my cigarette. I didn't expect to see Alex again but after I had gone back inside and settled in my favourite chair she came to the door, holding French fries. I dressed and we went to town.
This is where it started to go wrong. I was in pain from the moment we got on the bus and it got steadily worse. I asked Alex to take me to the food court because I started to feel sick, she got me a glass of water from a cafe and was told by a woman that I looked 'several shades of white'. The woman was right, I saw myself in a reflection - paper white, face shiny with cold sweat.
I started to feel a tingling in the tips of my fingers. It spread all through me, getting more intense until it was like my blood was vibrating. Not just in my fingers but in my toes and my arms and legs and even my tongue and face. I was stiff like a corpse, too. Alex tried to bend my fingers but they stuck straight out.
Alex talked to my dad on the phone for me and he came and picked me up. I was carried out of the food court by him and taken to hospital.

Other than that, my day was nice. I'm glad I have Alex, I don't know what would have happened if I didn't have her.



photo credit - bruno maric

the difficult part

Has anybody else noticed that if you stand back and let the world go by that nothing particularly interesting ever happens to you? If you don't know how to step forward it's almost impossible to fix. It's different for everybody. Step one for me is don't run away.



photo credit - moominsean