Time. What of it?

"Baby you're all that I want
When you're lyin' here in my arms
I'm findin' it hard to believe
We're in heaven
And love is all that I need
And I found it there in your heart
It isn't too hard to see
We're in heaven"

You know that concaving feeling that encases your soul, or whatever that weird you-thing that's inside you is, and rips apart your sense of life as you live it, and makes you feel sicker than swine flu ever could? The one you feel when you remember that you're going to die one day, like, you won't be here anymore.

Usually, I feel it when I'm feeling most alive, when I'm feeling so alive that I feel dead. The most dead that I'll ever feel, and it pains me to realise, that I'll never get to feel what it's like to be dead, because I'll be dead.

How peculiar it is that you're body, and everything you've ever seen or touched or loved, is going to be gone, without a trace. And you won't even be there to retell the memory, and no one will be there to remember you, everything dies, and as far as I'm concerned, I'll either never be again, or I'll go to hell, where I allegedly belong.

So, watching the land before time three, and being absolutely ecstatic in loving arms made me feel fantastically alive, and if there wasn't a comfortaning subtle finger rub and cute sideways glance to wrench me back to reality, I'd be sitting there sobbing to little foot singing about the bully dinosaurs.

Call me crazy, but I don't think the cause of my sadness was spikes stoner eyes and duckie's "yes yes yes!", but probably my subconcious going into overdrive and relating nothing with something. Something, being a little (ok, bigger than little, fifty-nine minutes to be exact) talk with a "good" friend of mine. It wasn't fabulous, or interesting, it was just blatant declerations that I was going to hell, and a horrible person that no man in the right mind should consider commiting to because I would not return the favour.

Well, I'm pretty sure I don't want to think about commitment just yet, i'm 15 for cripes sake. And as for going to hell? Pretty much bullshit.
So as I fume about all this shitskie assumed nonsense, it floats away as little fingers fiddle with my hair and our lips dance to the music of love, or should I say "ilys" to avoid the mention of that word.

There is something magical about our ilyality, which isn't so much magical as beautiful. And as amazing as the intense parts were, the little cutely amazingly perfect things are like... rainbows?

What I'm trying to say is, as much as death is scary and all that, what's the point of dying, and fearing death, if you don't live? So, here I am, living the life of a city girl, and experiencing things that make me think,
"hm, I wouldn't mind dying right now, It'd be like living in this moment forever..." So, who cares if I spend eternity in hell, when I get to live a few sweet moments in my, no, our, own little heaven.

Chelsea: the soft, vibrating cat.

"he touched my hand and i nudged his back a little and then we interlocked fingers :)"
"it was like a 2 and a half hour embrace, whilst watching zombies kill people."
"he pulled his head back and looked at me, and smiled."
"his lips are like thin jizz sticks."
"it's like 'hello tongue, how are you today? ooh you're a very nice tongue, yes, i do like you, mm'"
"like acrobatic tongues, but in a cute way."

I figured I should share some snippets of my detailed explination of a lovely event that surpassed not too long ago.

So, what can I say? I suppose I'm feeling pretty darn happy most of the time, and it's just crazy. I read some little things I'd written such a long time ago about loving and caring and needing, in my little journal, and I smiled a little. It was like I finally realised that after two months of that mean old hole always there to make me feel a little lonelier, I hadn't allowed myself to remember, anything.

All I had to do was sneak a glance in his direction, and everything flowed back. And it wasn't painful, or sad, It was sweet. So, the fact that it could be this sweet again, was amazing. I was back to feeling that "nothing else in the world is like this" type of feeling, and tingling all over at the soul enveloping power of those butterfly's wings.

So that's all I really have to say, I guess I could ramble a bit longer, but I'm thinking maybe about giving these irregular writings a bit more structure and direction, like maybe talking about things that could make people "ooh" and "aah" and "hrrm" in mild philosiphicality.

Stay tuned.

maybe, maybe not.

"You are not one that likes change too much or enjoys it when the boat is rocking unless you are at the helm. In this case, if you expect peace to prevail in love today, you may have to hand over the steering wheel just a little. If you don't, the tone you set today may affect you for times to come."

Naturally, I have to impulsively find a way to relate my vague horoscope to my everyday life. This one, however, fitted quite well. Because, I really don't like change unless I've got complete control over it, actually, I don't like much unless I've got complete control over it. Ha.

So, how am I supposed to hand over the steering wheel without exploding with anxiety? Hrm, I could try calming the crap down, and save a bit of worrying for something important, like starting my preliminary HSC or something...

But, being me, I still feel the need to plan something, which I more than likely won't go through with, just so I feel a little secure. So, here I am, planning away, whilst another part of my brain is convincing myself not to. It's a bit contradictory really, I'm sort of confused, but I think I know what's going on.

I don't think I should make a plan, because if everything's already perfect, yet hidden for the moment, then, what's the harm in letting it play out naturally? I think I'm going to try this, because I know that the best idea I have will come out when I feel it, and then it will be perfect.

Sometimes I worry though, quite a lot actually, that things won't be perfect and amazing and crap. But, really, if it's meant to be, then things will fit into place, and problems will be overcome and all I have to worry about is worrying too much.

that shouldn't be too hard, right?

Dear Santa,

I hope you're as magical as you seem to be, with the ability to visit everybody in the whole wide worlds house in one night, surely you can help me, maybe even a little. See, the problem is, the world is absolutely, in every way, wrong.

Just to be clear, I am making a formal complaint to whoever's inchanrge here. The main point of my concern is regaurding the smiley face "8)". Everyone knows it represents our everyday peadophile with two simple clicks. So, why, on facebook chat, does it appear as this half-hearted "cool-dude-with-lame-ass-sunglasses-and-an-unpeadophillic-smile"?

This is wrong

But, there are other matters that deserve a place in my complaint, probably generally considered more important, but mainly because they're what a normal person would call "serious."

Firstly, why was I so desperately sad that time, yesturday was it? Sure, I was unceremoniously ditched, but apparently he replied to my facebook wall post, so it was an accident. Well, well, that makes it all better then?

Is better, weeping uncontrollably at "sad" parts of a frightening movie, while you listen to your friends deep, sleeping breaths beside you, wishing so hard that you could join her harmonious dreams, whilst thinking painfully about everything you tried to cut out of you're memories?

Yeah, that's wrong too.

I found out the other day, after loosing interesting in snake 2 (an hour really does take the susspense out of you're twice beaten high score), and memorising 6 friend's phone numbers, that one can infact text oneself.
I found it a bit worrying when I recieved at text from myself stating "I want to die."

So, I figured I should let you know, that things are getting a bit wrong, and I'd like you to fix them. Infact, I think it's your duty to fix them, because I don't want these wrong things to get me onto the naughty list.

Lots of Love
Kind Regaurds,
Mare-Bear

Promiscuous Reader?

"Pff..."

So far, most of what I've written has been meaningful and generally expressing love/lack of/sadness. But right now, something has angered me, and I believe it should be rightfully abused.

So, there's this girl I know, a bit older than me, but about half my size. I totally don't have anything against her height though. But, everything else about her, just shits me.

She gives herself a name "Promiscuous Reader," yeah, why? I'm pretty sure reading books and being promiscuous aren't all that related and it's kind of strange... So, to top it off, she has this average display picture of her. Reading a book. Why?

I just don't seem to be able to grasp the concept that someone would want to express to the whole world that she loved reading sooo much that she even reads while taking photos. Sure, I read books and things, I also take photos, but not at the same time!

So, I contemplated this for a little while, and I guess I can see that she might want to show her real self through her picture, just so people knew she enjoyed reading, just incase her email wasn't obvious enough. But, if she's adding people, who know she is, then why show them a picture they've seen in real life a million times?

So, apart from being completely ridiculously anoying, this girl sits proudly on her high horse, with her nicely combed hair and applies some lipstick, while taking a photo and reading her god damned book. I'd like to point out, however, that this horse is actually an overweight pony, who's hair is thinning and eyes are bulging and blodshot, and her hair is washed by sunsilk, not some expensive perfecting hair shampooer, sunsilk, so the only reason her hair remains disgustingly perfect, is because she doesn't do anything to mess it up. Also, her lipstick is obscenely thick and dark and makes her look like a minature prostitute (note: lack of using "baby prostitute" - fear of quoting mean girls), her photo is amoung millions of her unflatteringly "being herself", one of which she chooses to represent herself to the entire world via facebook, and her book is about a bazillion years thick.

So, as you can imagine, I'm not particularly fond of this incolent bitch. She's not funny, I can't relate to her, she's hardly down to earth, and she can make you feel small and nothingly, despite her lack of height. Sure, I laugh at her, fairly frequently, and veiw her profile occasionally just to giggle at her posts and status updates and the comments on them, and laugh aggressively at how useless and stupid I deem them to be. But, It's usually a somewhat healthy release of heald back emotion, much healthier than the suggested "beat up you're pillow" or even worse "talk to you're pillow."

It is now time for me to shower, but also to appologise for a worthless blog with absolutely no content except the wisp of entertainment value that my raging, in the form of rapid keyboard clicks, has possibly given you. Next time I'll be sure to write something heart wrenching, or tear jerking or even, god forbid, philosophical, or not write at all. Because I know how much more interesting the failing events of my life are for the general public. Much love, mare.

Chocolate-pudding-angry-dog-with-a-monobrow

"Are you gun be laffin when I crack yo skull?"

I forgot how much comfort food really meant to me, until the pair of us cool kids ate the equivilant of 24 cookies in dough form. Yum, is all I have to say. And it sort of brought some kind of relief to the thunderingly depressed butterflies, if not a permanent end to their torment.

Sometimes days like those are important, even if they seem so insignificant and just another way to add to our waists. We laughed and ate and internally cried and angsted through lame prank calls and raptor jesus facebook spamming.

All before my "coffee" with someone who I used to be romantically involved with. And we talked.

We talked for an hour while I sipped my Starbucks Hot Tea and he played with his bag buckle. But we talked. And it was. Good.

We pretty much sorted everything that needed sorting, and now everything makes sense. It was ridiculous the ammount I'd realised that I'd been stressing about having done the wrong thing at some point, or wondering what the internal reason for our breakupage was.

The fact is, that I'm not as crappy a girlfriend as I thought I was, and I'm accepting that with relief and a confidence boost. Also, what I realised, is that we went out for a reason, just like we broke up for a reason, the latter of which was probably very poor. But we used to have immense feelings for eachother, that have only faded with time, so as I walked away feeling good about myself, I wondered would they return?

It's possible, but at the moment, I don't see it. So, maybe I'll just leave that thought on the back burner, while I concentrate on enjoying life without emotional attachments to cute boys. And, maybe something will come of it, but maybe not, and I'm alright with either option, I suppose.

So, now all I can worry my little head about, is my next confrontation, which will hopefully go smoothly and lead to a better understanding. I'm hoping that we'll either decide to "maybe try again when we're ready" or just leave it as one of those "never again" type relationship-fails.

But right now, I'm going to cuddle up in my bed with my pillow, put my mixtape into my cd player, and let the surround sound engulf me, while I read my dad's old book, and pretend that I'm not sick anymore.

doo 'n doo doo.

"Little Darling
It's been a long, cold, lonely winter
Little Darling,
It feels like years since it's been here..."

But the sun isn't coming back, you're gone. You, the reason for my name, the intense self assurance of the fact that it doesn't matter how shit things are, because when we sing together, when we make love out of music and smiles, everything's all right.

I don't know why you can't see how much you mean to me, but maybe you're just really sad or angry or, god, I don't know. But the way I miss you, is insane. Please, let me see you again.

I remember when I met you, and scoffed when I found out we had an ex in common, and thought to myself, "I hope I talk to this pretty new girl again, she seems nice." Little did I know, you were a pot filled to the brim with fantastic comebacks, amazing good times and someone who actually understood.

That day we sax-ed it up, duet style, was absolutely amazing. And when we sewed your clothes and sang beatles songs with you're guitarring, I felt at peace with the world.

I sit here, in your orange hat, which I now feel I've practically stolen from you. And I don't care that this sadness you've unleashed has possibly ruined my day, or that you're not replying and I desperately want you to understand. No, the blatant unimportance of my issues, in comparison to yours, are nothing.

I'm sorry, whatever I've done, I'm sorry. Please don't leave me, I don't care if you go to Tassie forever and live a sin-free life without my precense, but atleast let me say goodbye, and beg you to stay.

Immense love, mare chair.

I'm pretty good at loosing things...

"You would be really good at making love..."

Maybe I would, guess you'll never know. Maybe I'm wondering if it's normal for someone who "just wants to be friends" to say this. Maybe it doesn't matter anymore. But maybe I care. Maybe I actually care about my feelings right now because I know no one else is going to care for me, right?

I don't miss you, and I don't miss the one before you, and I don't miss any of the others. But just for the record, this post is not dedicated to you. This is about me.

I hung up the phone with the familiar sinking feeling in my gut, and I felt my eyes water, just a little. But what could I do? Nothing. Did I deserve being played around like this? I didn't think so at the time. And, was it really just another fling.

So in total there's been nine official relationships. By this, I mean, I've told some friends and maybe even my parents that I'm "going out" with so and so, exactly nine times. Five of which have lasted under a month.

Pretty confident that this isn't very good for my mental health, my spluttering heart, or my mood swings. The worst part is, they always leave me with useless hope. I always feel like i've got this ugly gaping hole infront of me that the whole world just stares at, but at the same time somewhere inside me I believe that he'll come back and fill it.

So maybe I should stop. I did for a while, sort of. But every time someone's even remotely attractive to me, I jump for them. By attractive I don't mean they're a massive babe, I mean there's something about them that's worth chasing, so I do.

It makes me feel pretty stupid, you know. The fact that I've been dumped and felt moderately used by eight boys, and the one that I left myself, hurt me the most and turned out to bat for the other team. What does that say about me?

Is this some sort of identity crisis that I'm going through? For the past three years has this been my way of ignoring the fact that I can't love myself for who I am because... well, I don't know why actually. I don't understand most people I know and love, because if they think I'm fantastic, how is that supposed to be concievable to me?

I'll admit, my self confidence has grown, and I feel like I can be myself pretty much all the time, which makes me happy. But when I look at myself I don't like it, whatever it is. Theres something so insincere and broken about me that makes me feel sick, but when I can say "Look at this guy, he likes me enough to hold my waist and kiss my forehead and always wants to spend time with me!" But what does that even mean?

So at the moment, I feel a bit lonely. But I also feel like this time I should not fill the damn gap that's aching and stealing my sleep. As much as I deeply need it, I shouldn't. If I do, maybe it will please me for a little while, but it will only leave a deeper wound. So, all I've got to do, is wait for it to close up by itself, because the huge spaces around it that my friends take up, will get bigger and bigger till it's so small that it doesn't need to be filled.

So, here's the plan. If ever I am involved with a fellow again (which I'm assuming I will be eventually) I will not give them a space in my heart till I can actually trust them and love them, so I will literally be bulletproof, until I feel safe enough to give them my love.

Let's hope that's not for a while though, till then I'll be busy making money, learning, making music and loving my friends.

A new day, a new blog. Oh, yes and a new year...

"Another girl who will love me till the end,
through thick and thin she will always be my friend..."

I'm in a remarkably good mood.
Not because someone stole my phone, and my ipod, and my wallet including my brand spanking new travel 10.
But I'm getting over that. Because, heck, I'll get a new phone, and a new ipod, and a wallet complete with two travel ten's, so fuck that.

I'm sort of excited about this year, mainly because it's not last year anymore. God, I don't even know what to say.

But yes, let me reference my quote today. Maybe not a girl, as I'm not a dyke, but a veree nice guy. This morning I woke much too early to his snoring and whipped out Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows for several hours. It was strange but nice. And that's what this year will be, strange but nice.

To finish up this excrusiatingly short crap on, I've got to say, I'm smiling. So, I've accomplished my new years resolution for a whole day! Which is totally enough for me. So, yay. Just yay.