I don't know what I'm saying

I was never good at words. I never had the talent, my words turning into mumbling, stumbling, bumbling babble, perched in the discomfort between fiction and reality. I was never good at articulating what I wanted to say, with my narrow vocabulary and lack of knowledge.
I was good at pictures. They say pictures are worth a thousand words, but mine aren't. Mine aren't worth anything. Because even though I was good at seeing - I was never good at believing.
The only thing I'm really good at is going out at night and getting lost.



photo credit - myself

I guess what I'm trying to say is...

Aching for simplicity, I turned to you. Burning for those comfortable conversations about taking the coaches and sewing dresses, I turned to you. Gasping for the familiar, same old monotony, I turned to you. I turned to you, only to find you were more complicated than a riddle. Those thoughts in your head went deeper than your seamstress pins and you were sharper than any needle I'd ever pricked myself with.
Maybe we're not meant to be comfortable.



photo credit - myself

how I loved every street light, and I wanted you to kiss me

It used to make me sad when I thought of how fast time was passing. It used to turn my blood cold to think of what tomorrow was going to mean. But now I'm eager, almost anxious, to start the next chapter in this story. I still have a problem with letting go of yesterday but I don't let it bother me as much these days.

I will write to you again soon, after tomorrow night.




photo credit - vera

get me out of here.

you were thinking of me, weren't you?



photo credit - cristophe kutner

everybody, everybody just wants to fall in love

mistakes will be made
to the death we dance
fallen
forgotten
forgiven
until the last bell chimes
and the last tick tocks
and run,
run for your life
tiny troubles
mistakes have been made
and the last dance is over



photo credit - viktor vauthier

reset rested

I can't decide whether I feel okay or not.
Maybe I do feel okay, because everything is going wrong. Maybe I don't feel okay, because everything is actually alright.
Maybe I don't know how to feel because last night the strawberry wine fizzed uncomfortably on my tongue and I lost control, the way I don't like to lose control. I couldn't help my friends because I couldn't even help myself. It didn't stop me from trying. But I wasn't good enough - I wasn't strong enough.
The next morning, between tears and picking up the shattered fragments of the night before, I vowed to never taste that poison again.

But maybe I don't feel okay because you haven't left my thoughts in a while.




photo credit - camilla akrans

camera

I feel stuck. I've been planning to do something for a while but I've never had the motivation to do it. I kid myself that there are things in the way of it, like I don't have enough film in my camera (although I don't have any film at all now) or I don't have enough time, but the truth - pure and simple - is that I'm lazy and lack motivation.
But this time, when I say I'm going to do it, I'm really going to do it.

Alex and I are starting a new blog project: to make a map of Christchurch. Bit by bit, blog by blog, roll of film by roll of film.




photo credit - zanzi