It's been a while

Part of me wishes I would never see your face again, 

And the other part just wants you back in my arms, cuddling me like you cared.

It's silly, really.

Being brutally dumped in one of the most romantic cities in the world, fittingly with none of your closest friends around to protect your completely massacred heart, and I'm alone and snuggleless, just in time for winter.

It's times like this when I believe there truly is a God, who hates the fuck out of me. 

So the point of this? Well, hate to disappoint but there isn't one.
I'm beginning, or continuing depending on how you see it, to not give a fuck about anything. 

I'm doing well in one thing I hope to achieve in life, I'm failing maths, I'm still having trouble deciphering the hidden meaning to English assessment notifications, I still fail to make time for my most beloved best friends, my mother befits the definition of menopause, my father is completely passive aggressive, much like me, I'm still a terrible speller, my sister suffers constant PMS-syndrome, I'm nursing a broken heart, and blah, this list is getting so boring I can't handle finishin

Eighteen Apologies

[Written from Tuesday the 14th of December - Friday the 31st of December]

To conclude this horrendous, intense, frivolous, idle, groovy, compulsive, mellifluous, dandy, swell and overall tiptop year, i have decided to formally apologise for some kind of wrong doing, or unkind behavior, once every day for the next Eighteen Days. How exciting. And every day report on the difficulty/awkwarditiy/gratification/comfort associated with these apologise, at the attempt of making an interesting and real blog. So, here i go.
Day 1: Sisterly Avocations
It was simple, clear, direct. And, as always, filled with untied ends and disillusionment.
"I apologise for yesterday," Cordially refraining a faint "sister, dear." As if I require the lack of almost forcefulness in order to achieve sincerity. Regardless, an apology, apologised, and formally accepted.

*side-note*: In reading a few words on "Nippy Hug Day" an English holiday were boys are allowed to ask a girl of their fancy for a kiss, and if they decline are permitted to pinch their bums (which is on the 11th of March, by the way). I reminisced on an awkward, pimply year 7 day, when in maths a boy pinched my bum, leading to much angst, confusion and disgust (IE, ew boys), and had an epiphinal thought, one of those great moments when you bring two things together, the second being; my friend recently informing me that "he (the bum pincher) was heaps devo that you left IGS, and i was like 'er, why?' and he was like 'she had a great ass...' " So, there's something to add to my confident points. 

Day 2: flanflan
"sorry, but i do not speak cat"

Day 3: A start
So, I apologised for my inability to be with someone who really needed me.
Something along the lines of "I'm so sorry"
But, there's so much more I want, no, need to say.
It's hard when you love someone so much, that you know they forgive you, weather you apologise or not, and so you need to apologise, but you can never find the write words. Or at least I can't, I can write my words in perfect concise precision, but speaking...

Day 4: Fisk
"I apologise for being a moody bitch"
"It's OK, I love you."
"I love you too."
Nothing out of the ordinary, something i say nearly every day.

Day 5: Mother Dearest
I actually am sorry for having a mental breakdown on the way home in the rain, and not replying to your texts because I couldn't hear my phone, and other such.. things.

Day 6: Virusing
So, my facebook got a virus, and sent it to everyone, and then I apologised. Cool story, i know.

Deemed this an inadequate apology,
(as it was not whole hearted, sincere, nor did I care)
I looked down upon my feet and minutely throbbing ankles and whispered; "Sorry for wearing my boots with the laces purposely undone, feet." [hardxcore, I know.]
^ shortly after attempting to look upon my gruesomely obtuse nose and replying; "I apologise for scratching you and beseeching you with a lovely red bump" (which I also deemed inadequate)

Day 7: An old friend
Boy do i have a story for you, my apt and eager blog readers (OK, so you don't exist, what of it?)
It begins with the story of two best friends in year seven, one happens to be rather shy and enjoys yelling obscenities (IE. penis, vagina, paginis.. etc) and the other, a manipulative little girl, writhing in power and control. But, this will remain the only bitchy comment in the story, as I would rather not be rude. Anywho, these best friends were often in a trio, the first one disappeared to Europe after being emotionally abused and rejected by the pair, the second also happened to move to Europe much after the rejection of person 2. Anywho, the point I'm getting at is, these girls were fantastic friends, they had lots of memories and impacted each others lives greatly. However, one of them left the other, for new and open prospects for the future, which, looking back seems like the cause for their initial disagreement/unfriendship. But, really, she was slowly being beaten and pushed away long before she even thought of leaving.
Me, being the shy, obscene child, apologised today to said bitch friend, or at least attempted to. I apologised for an alleged wrong doing, which not until after I apologised realised the implications of my misdeed, which involved locking lips with a certain boy, who my friend happened to be besotted with. The problem was, he had asked her out that same day, and she believed I did this in spite of her because apparently I'm a crazy bitch. The facts are, I was not aware of any such connection between them, we were both under the influence, I was a poor, misguided and horny young sheila, and I cried shortly after the incident because I felt guilty.
So, I apologised, with her back turned to my while she was walking away. I didn't hear what she said, if anything, so I said "do you hate me?" and was presented with the reply "I don't hate anyone." She continued to walk away.

I'm not really sure whether this is me being insensitive, or her being immature, or a combination, or just complete fuckedupity stupidity. Either way, after this apology she informed my friends that I "should have apologised two years ago." (though it was actually less than 1 year ago), and that I've changed.
So, I must apologise again, for your misinterpretation of my identity, as I am still the same person, and will always be forever and ever, I may be slightly more confident, due to lack of being cut down so frequently by class mates, and wear different clothes as with changing trends which i may or may not follow, and be generally happier. But, babe, that's probably because I don't have to put up with this crap anymore, and I'd like to keep it that way, call me when your grudge is over.

Day 8 A biff
"I'm sorry for not seeing you ever and being busy all the time"

Day 9 Red, Hot Thighs
Dear Thighs,
I'm sorry for not putting enough sunscreen on you yesterday, and thus turning half of you pink :s
I promise I'll take more care next time and not get skin cancer.
Love, your heart.

Side Note: Recently I've been thinking/noticing/aimlessly wondering, as to the sincerity of my apologies. See, It's one thing to apologise for things that ought to be apologised, but does my frequent cycle of apologise detract from the validity? It seems to be a problem, sometimes I apologise too little, leaving loose ends for me to attempt to sew up later, too late even (see Day 7) and other times I apologise much too frequently causing for people to react aggressively, violently even, which has not occurred in the past 9 days. Regardless, it seems as though, sometimes I don't need to apologise for everything which I have, I just feel obliged to apologise in some form each day (see Day 9). Regretfully, I am only half way through this shit, but intend to reach the end of this, because, well, I've gone this far, haven't I?

Day 10 Written Formal Apology

WFA written formal apology, white from aging, willow falls again, want four apples. blablablah.
A christmas card for a friend, who deserved some kind of apology, rejoiced in the closure of two tightly knotted strings, that is our loving friendship. He laughed at most of what I wrote, it being insatiably witty and all, and that made me happy.

Day 11 Facebookchat (ok, so i did a spell check on this and it came up with "Fussbudget", I laughed at the time...)

"I'm sorry that I wasn't there 20 minutes later, and I'm sorry that I always ditch my beloved friends like you for other people, and I'm sorry for being generally shit sometimes, but I love you :)"

:)

Day 12 Christmas Day

"Sorry Christmas, but this year, I really don't want you."
I hate Christmas

"Sorry TREW necklace, for not wearing you"
I wore it all day boxing day

-I said these both out loud while innocent bystanders looked over curiously-

Day 13 Ex-Husband

"I'm sorry, Jack D'Arcy, I just.. Don't love you...."
Hence the divorce, and lack of his ability to look at me when the store clerk assistant practically forced us into the same change room. :)

Day 14 Exercise

"I'm sorry legs for making you run."
I actually left the house for an hour (and 2 minutes) today, just to run, and now my legs hurt.

Day 15 Various Rampant Acts of Love, from the heart, of course

" 22:56 ps. sorry but nipple nibbling? I think that's on a higher notch than face-rape."

A harmless apology whilst in deep, yet subtle, shock.

Day 16 Formspring

"Sorry, but we hold hands because we're best friends"

I'm becoming less and less inventive, and loosing reasons to apologise.
Two days to go, I cannot fathom the pleasure resultant of the ending of this tormentuous year.

Day 17

8:31, just after a horrendously annoying alarm went off, a call from someone absolutely amazing came.
Obviously, I had to ruin the greatness by being me;
"bah, I'm so sorry, but I'm so tired, I'm sorry, I love you, call me later, I'm so sorry, bye."

cool story.

Day 18

It's finally the last day, and I'm so stoked, not so much for fireworks, NYE and all, mainly for the fact that this blog will be over, and I won't have to apologise anymore. Lets face it, it's shithouse and solves nothing, a blatant waste of time, and has probably bored whoever bothered to read this. But I kind of enjoyed it, secretly.

So, in the spirit of things, my one last apology I'm hoping, will go something along the lines of;
"Sorry, I couldn't wait for the fireworks." *rampant facerape*
Or better,
"Sorry, I just want to see some fireworks again ;)" *more of that*
Or better still,
"Sorry, I just want to see the fireworks." *awkward turtle*

Although, it hasn't happened yet and rahrahrah I'm getting bored of my own voice in my head reading out the words I'm writing, my voice is so whiny :/
So, Happy New Year, all the best to my faithful readers, and um, one more thing,
Remember,
What doesn't kill you, only makes you stronger
nah, that's cracked, I'll just stick with
Happy Holidays

In the style of someone I love and dearly miss.

listening to: Spanish Temper - Washington
reading: facebook chat messages.
watching: my finger as it presses my tight-printed sunburn.
eating: salivation.
drinking: orange juice.

I carefully peel away the scars,

which lace my arm in memories

of your sweetness and lovely attire.

I sit and wait upon your return, which I am aware will be in two weeks minus one day's time. I think of calling you, sharing with you my news of insecurities and uncertainty. But I drop my hand and think instead. I feel your necklace imprinted kindly on my chest and supple clevage, and retain my inability to spell without you around. However, I may still write, and that I will, with new pens matching for me and you.

It suddenly occurrs to me my tone of pure ambience, and regretfully, lameness. Apologies...

This is in pure announcement of my upcoming post, it will cloud your eyes, and surface on this blog in no less than 5 days, marking the last day of the year, and a steady conclusion to my rampant bloging.

Stay tuned folks.

Some useless things

my computer lives on my floor
sometimes i step on it
it has very old five gum stuck on the tippy top
sometimes my school work gets stuck to it
because it melts and my room has a lingering tropical aroma
so my window's open
once it was really hot
and someone really lovely was here
and it was too hot
but it didn't matter
so now my window is open, and my fan is on
it has electronic control of everything
conveniently with a remote control
just like my CD player
which i am yet to introduce to it my new Cd's
sia and maroon 5
maybe a bit lame, but groovy
and there's this one song
which i always listen to
it cheers me up every day
because it is about my favourite day
and even when it is not my favourite day
it feels almost the same, thinking about it nearly being that day
that idle, comfortable morning
beautifully and sunny
or perfect and raining
or some whether, it needn't matter
Sunday morning,
the day six months from her 17th birthday,
and her life disapparated,
taking part of every one's souls and hearts with it.
;that part wasn't useless
just sad,
and lonely,
and helpless.
but mostly, a beacon of memories
seeping from the corners of my eyes,
in love
always.

For a Moment

I am a child. An infant at best.

But, for a moment,

Forget that we exist.

There is a cloud, which does exist, floating surrendorously from the depths of some long, thick pipe, extracting itself from some building, some factory, of sorts. It is floating, carefully, but surely to the bottom of some region that we have not yet discovered, which lies plainly above our universe, dully twinkling in an invisible hum.

The cloud swells amongst the laughing children, and barking dogs, and screaming women, and shouting men, and illicit drug influenced inbetweens. And over a monotonously long time, too long to begin to conceive, but miraculously occurring in an instant, a millisecond, a flicker, a moment of time. Much like this year has progressed, dubiously slowly, but we've found ourselves recklessly tossed from the beginning to now, almost the end, at the click of some sweaty, disproportionate fingers.

This moment brings a cloud, the cloud, our cloud, to the cusp. This consequential cusp between continuity and predeceasing. That is to say, the universe, and some other land. In this cusp is a firm crust resembling the sweet texture of golden waffles, as the cloud begins to penetrate such force, it is pushed away by some inconceivable force. A spray of sorts, as if a can of whipped cream were exploded through a minuscule point.

The puffy cloud, diluted between dark matter, waffle crust cusp and whipped cream. The confusion heightens, along with the immense desire and yearn for waffles that some child or infant may experience daily. And so begins the start of something that is yet to begin and sises to start. Thumbs twiddle, and minds numb, and a melody hums lightly in the background. A moment passes. A few others stumble by. Before a crashing wave of insomnia and unsubtle convulsions stutter through space, and swirl in to a large black space.
Which is a hole, open mouthed, teeth beared waiting to swallow us whole, but on our approach, on our clouds approach, it's eyebrows furrow and are raised magically in correlation with some child, some infant, pressing their lips to a beacon of swell cuteness.

Not.

Collect my tears,
catch them in your hands,
feel them seep through your fingers-
don't
stop them falling.

Watch my eyes,
envelope them with your own,
swallow my sorrow
and forget

Laugh at me,
laughing at you-
to mask my need;
to protect my heart;
to ignore your unreciprocation.

Follow my toes,
crinkle your nose,
curl your fingers like a rose
thorn weaving through mine.
our eyes can close.

You are perfectly able,
to ignore what isn't there,
as i am,
to ignore what is.

So, what,
what is it?
something i can see
now
but i pretend to not.

Little wet tears on my baby's shoulder

I hear a cry of incredible pain. A shrill scream of uncomfortable frustration, with such immensity I can hardly resist the silent surrender to my curiosity. I see a face of pure emotion, mouth open wide, stretching the soft skin, leaving subtle creases of intense anger. Eyes sealed tightly with a tear welled up in each, and that button nose scrunched up, caught in the moment. The minute fingers a crushed in balls, dangling ferociously on the ends of restless, belting arms. His hands rub his ruby red cheeks and press awkwardly into his nose.

Then he is in my arms. I think of feelings similar; A girl, the other half of me, scrunched up to my chest, heart throbbing against my bosom, my arm tracing love hearts in her back, warm kisses on her forhead. A boy, kissing my shoulder and reminding me how much he loves me, heart joltingly revoltingly lovely, a hand on my neck and a hand on his belly, extended cuddles. A girl, sitting beside me, just existing and appreciating and loving and living, but being together, belonging, caring, staring, wearing eachothers hearts on our engagement fingers, effervescent smiles. A boy, prancing around like a fisk bitch, but caring through loving eyes, and being on the otherside of my fogged up window of confusion with a steelcapped hammer and some chocolate coated strawberries, lingering laughter.

But this, carried my heart hight, with much more intensity, through clouds of thunder, lightening and hail, with the burn of something mightier than a pen or a sword. Thin hair of such perfection, an object of beauty, combined with a soul of perfection, and outrageous screams. So I rock. Slowly upward, and down, from left to right, whichever way feels comfortable for him. Tiny fingers trace circles, and spirals around my neck, and grab for a clinging pinch in moments of hostile shreiks.

I feel as though I'm dancing, as a newly bloomed rose may dance in the calm summer wind, to the tune of my own heart beat, intertwined with his. I am alone, but accompanied by my own solace and a soul which I do not understand, and may not begin to comprehend it's great complex simplicities. I begin to hum. A tune to which becomes forgotten after songs of folding chairs, broken hearts, leaning on some other, and silent nights. His cheek falls upon mine, and I watch his eyelashes close softly in tired complacency. I stroke his flushing cheek tenderly and close my eyes in fine contentment.

His head slowly drops to the left, as his left hand clutches desperately at some finger. His breath is silent, and his lips pure comfortably to drool on my shoulder. I feel his legs slacken their grip, his muscles relax and his soul drift to a dreamlike state. I hum on.

It is time to farewell my new friend. I wipe away the tears and salivations from my shoulder and drift like a small lonely cloud to a place where I belong. My bed, full of pillows, soft blankets and dreams. Dreams that maybe someday I will hold something so closely sometime again, and feel such warmth and affection that I feel like crying and screaming just like him.