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