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