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Stockholm Syndrome - My Heart Falls Captive to your Choking HandsApril 25 a tad bit dark tonighti'm scared that i'm incapable of love the kind of love that lasts forever long after the spark is gone after your beauty has faded when there's nothing left to say when things take effort and i don't want to be like him one person to the next i know that somewhere inside it hurts knowing that because of him, i hurt that so many people hurt were the reasons legitimate am i like you, searching for something perfect am i doomed to a lifetime of loneliness, ripping hearts out everywhere i turn or worse yet lying to myself, persuading myself that i am happy with every disappointment that heads my way is my mum right in fearing that i have your blood, the blood of a whore it doesn't matter how handsome you were, how intelligent and charming the way you ironed all your shirts before you went out brushed your teeth after every cigarette wrote poems in your book you were still a whore i never used to think about it before. April 21 staring into space on the train.carlos d.
you're badass.
i like badass.
i hope you clean your ears.
cause this guy that sat infront of me on the bus
had this filthy string of wax hanging from his left ear.
i felt sick, watching his girlfriend snuggling up to him,
the hair on her head inching closer and closer to it.
just wanted to reach out and yank it off.
actually no.
i wouldn't touch that shit.
maybe blow it off somehow.
but then i might accidently suck it towards me even more.
yucky.
=P April 05 born again.i like watching people find others in a crowd.
reading books about prostitutes and drug addicts.
sun shining into my eyes on a train ride,
interrupted by passing trees.
feeling of nostalgia, my feeling of nostalgia,
all rainforest like, in the centre of my being.
becoming a vessel, emptied out by the wall of sound
found in interpol songs.
"i am a scavenger.."
February 05 to the man on the streeti am awfully sorry to bother you
but.. i happen to like the way your arms swing at your sides as you walk. i wish i could stop my hands from clenching tightly or digging deep into my pockets, thread my thumbs through the loop of my shorts and let them hang. you seem like you belong somehow, to yourself. not needing to spread your weight around. and i wonder if you are lonely. because they say you don't give enough. but don't realise you don't take that much either. and i apologise for not saying this out loud. hoping that writing this down may act as an antidote for the nervousness i have in conversation which would have been riddled with ums and ahs, reallys and you don't says. giggles. laughs. while i pick at the sides of my nails. because i'm not that much of an interesting person.
and you need not waste your time. January 05 another year has passedand another rant materialises. guys should never wear tight denim shorts. unless you are eddy from tekken. but there's only one eddy and you're not him. so stop it. the white hats too. just. no. also. my dog, tofu, is a man slut. the moment anyone comes within a metre of him, he'll roll over and flash his balls at you. my mum's words, not mine. i guess he has every right to though. dawson lost his manliness so many years ago. i'm becoming more active and random. "explosive situations do attract them and hold their interest." craving a change of scene, different people, new experiences laced with adrenelin and caffeine. indian food with will. camping out in carol's backyard. crashing cat's tennis time with her brother. singing on the 910 bus. actually enjoying working out at the gym. i love working at gloria jean's too. love being able to identify people as a choc mac latte [product placement anyone?] and aiming for sexy silky milk love the people i work with who are all so interesting and hilarious to be with. actually liking the music that is playing in the store. [as opposed to spice girls on loop in the diva store next door] plus seeing heaps of cute guys and having to talk to them because it's all part of the job. *wink wink and dappled cities playing with young and restless plus cloud control on the same night is grand fucking awesome. new years was the best. what better way to spend the night but to dance non stop to great music and watch cult films [ferris bueller's day off <3] i was so hyped at purple sneakers i only took one picture: david and my new friend zach [he's such a killer guy] having the weirdest dreams lately. making out with people i know. and i'm sure there was one about joseph gordon levitt's penis. [i didn't actually SEE the thing] wish i could say i had dreams with obscure metaphors like trees and hand bags but i guess i have to accept the fact that i'm a massive pervert in the most straightforward way possible. on another note. organising things and saving money is quite fun. i've got a diary thing all set up with appointments and hoping to get a car by the end of this year. vooohoo. but not as fun as spending money unfortunately. got a new bra and a hello kitty pj set. i'd like to think of it as an investment rather than wastage. my boobs need support and sleep is all the more beneficial if you're wearing cute stuff. last but not least. don't get me angry. i break things. with my fists. my mum went through a box i keep full of mementos [think ice cream spoons, post cards and leaves] and chucked half of it in the bin. new years cleaning she said. i went berserk afterwards. told her calmly to get out of my room. she continued to rape the physical embodiments of my memories even though i specifically told her how important that 'rubbish' was. so i just screamed the loudest i ever could and started flailing my limbs around, slamming my hands repeatedly onto the table. things to buy for get me for my birthday? a punching bag and a dust buster. December 27 what it feels like to be a four year old again.walking around the shopping centre in shorts and
a random tshirt that's too big.
wearing said shirt without a bra on.
having bright yellow thongs with monkeys on them
with beforementioned ensemble.
cruising through woolies sitting in a trolley, where all you
have at eyeview are other people's asses and stumbling
across an auntie who is surprised you are actually
into your second year at uni.
leaving your contacts at home so everything is a
buzz of confusion and light.
weighing up the options of whether you'd prefer to buy
one bottle of gatorade at a dollar sixty, or being able to
buy two cans of lime flavoured mineral water from the
three dollars your mum gave you.
staring at the honey peach sky while your head hangs
out of the window of your car.
calling 200 grams of roasted corn nuggets, dinner. Boxing day.i've eaten a whole box of ferrero rochers,
tried to get every ounce of flavouring at the
bottom of a pizza shapes box,
attempted to bring milk to the boil as quickly as
possible on the lowest heat,
googled stuff on Bjork's crazy stalker guy but
was too scared to actually watch the videos for
fear that i may somehow relate to him,
began learning rue de cascades, belted out a
hysteria bass line, danced around in my underwear,
sliding myself off walls all melodramatic like,
shouting out the words to earth intruders, read a
book about Dons and Wackers, tried to stop thinking
about certain cute guys, fed my puppy Tofu mango,
pondered over how long it would take to afford
a piano accordion and played Cooking Mama.
i set myself up for a very normal day.
just didn't have the testicles in me to brave the crowds
of scary shoppers at myer.
p.s. vinh. can i have alink to your snail pictures?
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