rude awakenings

i don't know what it is but i cant stand you anymore. maybe because I've been with you for 6 weeks straight. then i got two weeks of freedom, glorious freedom, and it's hard to come back to living in this house, with you, with whom i now associate all the wonderful memories of arguments that you could never bare to lose, the days spent waiting at each corner for you as you lagged behind inconsiderately taking pictures. my friend told me last night, in alcohol fuelled praise, that you were real. that she had incredible respect for you. and i just couldn't agree. you're real only in the sense that you let us know exactly what is on your mind without bothering if it upsets us. but you don't take the time to listen to me, to consider my opinions, because everything anyone else thinks is completely illogical and a waste of time. you can't grasp that you're views aren't one size fits all. they don't work for everyone; especially not me. You can't

the house is empty but my mind is full. rampant with every day ramblings forming a kaleidoscope collage of every day living. i think that's why I've had a headache for three days. and scott's got me feeling guilty for taking Tylenol. which is probably a good thing. I enjoy painkillers, because I am so often in pain. and so often i can't handle it. there are a few things i can't handle. pain, conversations, people being angry with me. I try and avoid conflict as much as possible, but that's a fool's errand. I'm living a lie, but I do it well. But every now and then the walls crumble and I'm left asphyxiated in the dust. choking on my tears as the all too familiar depression worms its way in to my chest. I often find myself wrapped in Scott's arms running a broken record through my head. The sadness is addictive and I'm lured in, but then i hate myself for it, for scaring my lover, for hurting him. this then makes me cry harder because I'm

I've been collecting feathers in the hopes that I'll fly away. but my feet stay planted in the ground I haven't found enough to overcome gravity. so I make them into earrings in hopes that they can at least help me hold my head high

we are weaved in with telephone wires, 'chemtrails', patchworking the sky. and the world doesn't look so great behind prison bars

i cant quite get a grasp on you. you've built a protective web to surround you, but you let it slip when shit went down around you. problems with the girlfriend, now ex. you did your best to play the bigger man. but i saw the stilts where your feet should have been. i don't want to be mean but i feel someone needs to get the truth out. cuz we know nothing about you. The funny thing was, your ugly side was predicted in a tarot spread. i shook my head and said that cant be. but the reader could see the real you that came through not long after. i let out disbelieving laughter when your guise fell. you broke the spell that had me transfixed like a moth to a bright light. but in hindsight, you played the game well. no wonder so many fell in love with your words and your wit. you knit yourself a pretty little sweater, but we found the loose thread. so think ahead before you plan to trick another girl into thinking your world is the place to be. Because she'll see before long tha

i feel so disconnected. And I'm infected with this feeling, reeling in this madness, trying to deflect the coming sadness that comes with deprivation. ah fuck it.

I saw him, the first time in 40 days, like a dream coming to life. Grin brimming, I unlocked the door and rushed like a magnet to my main attraction. He looked different since I'd left, shorter hair, longer beard, but those eyes shone with the same intensity, those arms grasped with familiar fervor. And those lips. Heavenly warmth that melted the world away and I was lost in an ocean of dripping skies, holding him close, my rock, my safety, anchored after an eternity of strange seas. I vowed never again to let distance drive a stake between us. If I ever leave he will be my partner through it all and not a correspondence at the other end of a skype call.

Her camera shoots a thousand victims, capturing them, imprisoning them in a memory card thatll never again see the light of day. Shell stash them away, where theyll stay because no one will want to waste their time watching slideshows of the slow progression of twenty thousand frames. And its a shame because all this time she spends is in vain, all the painful waiting as shr takes her pictures taking her time. Amd its a crime to complain or to blame her for our pain because her wrath is worse than the acursed sound her shutter makes. Despite your 'mindfulness' classes you cant be mindful of us as we stand in the italian afternoon sun, waiting for you as you lag behind. Dragging your fert as you hold your camera to your face in a constant vigil bexause youre terrified of an opportunity for photography to pass you by. You ignore our sighs and complaints, for they taint your perfect mood, and our moods mean nothing at all. You fall behind all the time, because your pictures

Less than a week left, and im itching to be home. My sister left to poland to be with her bf for the rest of the summer, and im stuck solitary with my parents, no siblings for solace. I feel a stranger in a strange land, in germany, where the language sounds too hostile for me to feel welcome. So many foomps and ahcks and stressed syllables. But we are returning to france today, back where i can speak and not feel terribly touristy. And ill get to see amanda! How exciting :)

Had a most vivid dream last night. Hung out with marysia petra and erin, like old times. Then me and mash went shopping and lost pet and erin. But we went to a party and met up with erin again but petra was gone. There were guys being stupid and jumping off balconies and staircases and one hurt himself and became unconcious. justine appeared out of nowhere and we decided to call 911. But it was in french and i couldnt tell them where we were. Meanwhile people were desecrating the unconcious guy, putting him in embarassing positioms, like sticking his hand down his pants. I was the only one concerned for him, cuz the 911 call was useless cuz i was on hold. I ran to erin who was teaching people to apply lipstick and getting ready for a date. I asked her for myphone because i had given it to her cuz i didnt have pockets. She told me she had lost it and had to go change her clothes. I wanted my phone to call scott because i thought he had been jumping off things as well and i wanted to b

I've forgotten about this blog since ive been away. There's always so much happening, and yet nothing is changing. These places we see are fantastic, but I view them through clouded eye for my mind is elsewhere. I am the in-between, always. Present but always looking over my shoulder, the link in this family chain holding everyone in sight. My mother is always far behind, in her own world where life exists in film only and she must capture as much as she can before leaving. My father and sister glance only around them and make haste through these streets. And I am between, making sure my mother can tell which corner we turn down, if ever she looks up from her lens. She tells me it's her favorite sight, watching me watch out for her, head swivelled, searching. But i grow tired. It always takes twice as long for her to accomplish anything and we are left lagging around as she slowly makes he way to us. But regardless of our annoyance she continues without a second thought to