I'm not in love, this time, this night

So, its been a long time since I wrote anything here, but as I am very busy not listening to my english lecture, and I was looking at this blog the other day. Since the header photo is oh so pretty (and no, I'm not blowing my own trumpet here, check the disclaimer) and this blog holds so much of the past, I figured it was worth pretending to maintain.

I found it really interesting, rereading the last post, and even more so again that I've not written here since then...

If I was meant to have had my 'wow, this is real life' moment already, I must have missed it. Yeah ok, school was sheltered, I know that. But I don't feel that I've magically stepped into real life. In fact, I feel that I've just learnt to do a much better job of avoiding it, which certainly can't last.

So I don't know where I'm at, if i'm honest, or why I'm writing this, or why I am so tired.

But I guess that's just my reality right now...

Hold your own, know your name, go your own way

And everything will be fine...

I feel like...

Like it's getting to the point where I have to choose. Either to stand up and beat this thing, or let myself be shattered by trying to do it semi-half-assed. I mean, I'm not slacking that much, but enough to make it super hard on myself.

And in doing this, I've reached a fork in the road. Or maybe not even a fork. Just a sign telling me the gradient of the road ahead, and to either stop here and cry and let everyone else go on without me and sit here and shatter, get off and pick another road...

Or pick up my friggin act, pull my finger out as they say, kick myself up the ass.

And honestly, the more I think about it, the more the first option seems easier and in truth, more likely.


I keep trying to tell myself that if people last year and the year before and the years before that could do it, then so can I. But honestly, the year twelves from last year still look a little like superheroes to me... I know you'll probably think its just as funny and stupid as I did when you said I was dealing well.

But I've tried to re-naturalise all the images I photoshopped inside my head, but the sparkles won't rub off, the capes won't be erased, and the onomatopoeia of 'BAM!' just won't go away.

And honestly, the further I get into this year, the more it feels like the people who made it in the past must have been the minority...


And the longer I spend sitting in her classroom...
sitting frees freezing up...
sitting at home playing flash games and procrastinating...

The bigger the little doubting voices get...

Her voice is getting into my head, 'I'm disappointed in you' 'I can't believe you haven't done this yet' 'you aren't good enough' 'you'll never make it' 'just give up now'

And honestly... I'm beginning to believe them...

How can you be so dead?

I've written this for an english assignment, text production in order to escape poster making :D
i wanted to write on something I'm passionate about without being so personal that I didn't want my teacher to read it, obviously. So here it is, I hope you guys like it, or are convicted by it, or feel something in some way lol.

On Witness

I’m told I hold the dearest truth

And ordered to protect it ruth-

lessly, to fight my way to God

and honestly, I find it odd

to have so tightly bound together

sweetest always, darkest nevers.

we twist His words in such a way

dement, distort, til clear they say

'Thou shalt defend, contain, preserve

traditions truth, for we deserve

to have this newness all our own

and never note how much they groan

of Pain and Death and Poverty

we must push on!' as they decree

‘thou shalt not laugh, or dance or love

those heathen dogs’, while we above

sit smirking, sneering, truth withheld

yet burning rubber’s telltale smell

does drift its way to those below

they crane their necks, and soon they know

the tinfoil lie we forged so well

is deadly, as the gates of hell

What of the Truth? of Grace divine?

We’d rather have communion wine.

Hide here in our iv’ry tower

Not by love, but lust for power

Our own comfort paramount

Broken hearts too menial to count

As anything worth risking for

So we sing hymns and bolt our doors

And guzzling down salvation shots,

Confess our sins?! Deny the lot!

Never mind the falling souls,

Their desp'rate echoes through our halls

And yet, I swear I heard him say

As bold as brass and clear as day

That we must love, all people, deep

Validate their hearts and keep

the knowledge firm, that ‘we are too’

just as lost, and far from you

Imagine now, if you still can

A world, despite the fall of man

Where we could trust, and hold eachoth’r

Acting justly to our brothers

And share with all, this hope, this grace

See love colour every face

It’s not as far as it may seem

Not a fairytale or dream

But true

and real,

attainable.

If we will

just

reach

out

like a dozen lies and a dozen more

English studies homework is like deep water diving without oxygen. Take a deep breath and dive in.
Hold your breath and don't stay there too long, or you'll die.

So basically, I sat at the computer desk staring at facebook for ten minutes before I realised I'd got out my classics book not my english.

Then I realised I had not in fact finished analysing my poetry, but was relying on the power of wishful thinking. shockingly, this has not got my english finished.


'i've been writing you a letter. about skin and bones. the internet. sometimes it begins, yesterday i saw a black bird in the park eating worms. and sometimes, it doesn't. these days it takes everything i've got not to burn down your house. rise up from these bed sheets in the morning to screaming. instead i fold paper hearts into paper birds. and other things with wings. sail them out our old-bedroom window. until collections of them. like memories of me and you. drop there on the almost-summer concrete below. false falling snow.' - http://doggerel.blogspot.com/2010/05/diacritical-remarks-for-your-dead-dead.html


incredible...