i want your drama.

it's always you, always all about you, always all for you.

it's always you.

what's the promise for? what's your promise for?

i'm not bitter, and i'm not jealous.

you found some words written on a page, does that make you quake? can you feel yourself break out into a nervous sweat?

do you remember when we used to talk? we used to keep secrets, and we used to hold hands with romance. would it be different if distance was the issue, and not proximity?

this could be the end.

too much effort goes into being naughty, and doing things secretly. too much lying, too much stress, too much worrying, too dangerous. too many secrets.

i'm teeming, filled to the brim.

it's kind of like the emotional equivalent of when you eat too much, and you feel a little sick?


you only ever had her when you were a fever.

today is: emotionally exhausting, internally gruelling, and a horribly stretched out oxymoron.

it's been one day, i don't want to unleash my intensity and scare her off, like it scares everybody off. she brings out an immediate reaction, immediate interest.

i feel like we could be really good friends, if something else, something romantic, doesn't get in the way and screw it up first.

or, it could get in the way and be the best thing ever to happen to me, instead of screw it up.

i feel irrationally teary-eyed, so vulnerable that one bitter remark results in simultaneous implosions and explosions of my being.

i want to runaway, i want to run to her, she wouldn't judge like you would. she'd understand.

because i don't want my heart to trip when our eyes meet anymore. i don't want to feel that a second longer, i want it to change. i don't want to want.

i'm so confused, our changes clash and it's too bad that it's happening at the same time.

my head is spinning.


from a mess to the masses.

disgust, discouraged. distant from other interests.

two televisions babbling, a phone ringing, her ipod blaring somewhere near her shoulder. white noise helps.

how do goosebumps, shivers, chills ever feel good? how is skin soft, and rough at once? how is it possible that even more desire floods into her chest?

you're pretty, and you're sweet, and you're screwed up and so hardcore, you're honest, you're stylish and you have good taste, your hands are soft and you have a contagious smile and really, ridiculously pretty eyes.


i won't believe it, it's always like this.

the sweetest things that i can't keep my heart from singing.

i have a bad feeling about something, i'm a little nervous too. anticipation colliding with anxiety, and it's making my heart drop at a startling speed. i think i need to tone down the recklessness of my state, my impulsiveness. i need to start thinking things out before doing them, maybe then i'll spare myself from having to analyse the aftermath.

i want to count them all, all over, all over again.

will you, won't you?


crush on crack.

it's not really such a big joke anymore. i can't look at him without my mouth involuntarily curling upwards. i can't think of him without feeling my heart throw itself around a little. i can't dream of him without waking up smiling. i can't not be in an impeccably good mood after seeing him. i have a feeling that i should slow down, come back down to earth, because he makes me want to feel things, do things that i've never wanted to do before.

and for 'just a crush', that's a little too intense, i think.

kissing in a state of torpor.

late night waiting by the phone
tonight waiting for an answer
heartbeat drumming double time
i need one more chance to be near you

still hanging on? for what?
can't operate, fired up
i won't eat and i won't sleep for you yeah
no rest till i get through
'cause i'm holding out for you
am i the only one who's insane?

hey, you're playing with my delirium
and the longer i wait the harder i'm gonna fall
stop playing with my delirium
'cause i'm outta my head and outta my self-control

still here in this quiet room
deep in delusions sending me over
outside, watch the world go by
inside time stands still as i wonder

still hanging on? for what?
can't operate, fired up
i won't eat and i won't sleep for you yeah
no rest till i get through
'cause i'm holding out for you
am i the only one who's insane?

hey, you're playing with my delirium
and the longer i wait the harder i'm gonna fall
stop playing with my delirium
'cause i'm outta my head and outta my self-control

"she wants to trace words on your skin, she wants to say things she'd slur if spoken aloud. she wants to seem cheerful and care-free, but she ends up looking like a cheap fake to you. it's not that she's unhappy, you just don't give her a chance to make you laugh. you don't give her the time of day. she wants to hold your hand and she wants to look at you without having to glance away everytime someone else looks on. she wants to say things without sounding mentally impaired, without stretching out her words. she wants to take in your heady scent and spiral dizzily into bliss. she wants just to touch you, she wants you to want her too."


do i have to get down on my knees, and beg?

i want to be able to come back, and find you waiting. i want to slip things up your sleeve and see you smile to yourself. i want to know you. i want to fall asleep next to you, i want to hear your breathing.

i'm falling asleep right now. anyway. i'm happy.

cradle me, i'll cradle you

i just got kicked out of maths. again. anyway, it's cool, i've had three off periods in a row. now that's what's good.

my arms don't hurt anymore, only sometimes when i lay funny. last night i had the weirdest dream about the weirdest things, and the french teacher was in it. which is always good, i dream about him often lately, and i like it :)

so, today i was scribbling on a piece of paper, and i have an idea for my tattoo. however gay this is, i want something to remind me of my time here. my highschool career, for some reason, is something i never want to forget. and it wasn't even that cool? anyway. i want to make a list of all the people here who made a difference to me, or made an impact on who i am (is this sounding ridiculous?) and tattoo the number at the back of my neck. like "8" or "eight". i don't know if it should be written out, or just the number. "28" or "twenty-eight". i just don't want to forget, even if i had to tattoo a puny "lar", i'd do it.

is that gay? i think it's gay. but people won't know, they'll just see a cool number at the back of my neck. maybe i should put a barcode there and i can have some random numbers like "62131111125121" at the bottom. or something?

also, while i was still scribbling on the same piece of paper, i tried to write down exactly how i feel. it helps sometimes, to vent, and just feel better about things in general. clear your head. the problem was, though, that i couldn't write anything. it was like there was some valve, and it was firmly shut, and my hand was quivering, but no coherent words were formed. then, something weird happened; i gave up, and i read a friend's magazine. so i read my horoscope, and it said something about love will be hiding from me or something, and that it will be difficult for me to know how i truly feel about anything for about a month. it gave me the creeps, because my reality and my horoscope has never matched up so accurately before. i guess i'll just wing it for a month, will i still be able to know what i want? not that i ever do, really?

ah, shit, why did you have to say that at the end. why did you have to add those five words.
 because it just fucked with my mind, really, and not in a good way. asshat.


strange steps take us back.

so, this weekend was fun. although i did mix hayfever medication with alcohol on friday night, and then some mcdonalds, which ended unpleasantly. last night we watched p.h.fat and i think they're cool, the way they dance like chickens, pull up their shoulders like little boys and play with the mic cords. and look you in the eye and smile; they're cool. and, of course, how they rap about dinosour blood, bugs and lions, and making love to superpowers. and vulgar things, too.

i like bathroom wall inscriptions, i like reading everything, and why is it so fucking tempting to write on it too? i want to write things, sentimental things. all flowery and romantic.

oh my god, everything hurts. my wrists, my elbows, my shoulders, my neck, my tongue. it feels like all blood circulation has been cut off, i can't even eat a teeny sample of milktart (which, by the way, was absolutely amazing) without my tongue hurting like shit. i can't move my arm without my elbows hurting even more like shit. wtf?

okay, over this post.



my camera and the usb, my memory sticks, my little ugly bag. i really don't hope they're gone, because i'll cry and my mom will kill me.

i don't know, i'm really tired, and today is going to be a long day. i'm going up the mountain (well, not really up the mountain, just a little higher than i am now) with megan, franki and bliss. hopefully that cheers me up, those people always make me laugh. after that, the stupid prize-giving is going to take up so much of my time it's a joke. i'm going to take my book like hero and i did at the hostel dinner, it works.

i wonder how long this period is going to be, and i wonder what i have after this. today feels like such a blur, nothing is really clear, today feels purposeless. i want to listen to the yeah yeah yeahs and the kills and get high on them, because that actually happens sometimes, and i like it, very much.

last night i dreamt that i met angelina jolie, and she was nice, it was kind of the coolest thing ever. i really think it's awesome how i dream all these things that i wish would happen in reality. yes, it sucks to wake up, look around and see nothing phenomenal except for drool or something, but it's cool to know what it feels like. well, not in the tactile sense, but the emotional sense.

bell rang, how fucking cool is that.


everywhere, kiss, kiss me.

oh my fuck i can't even string a coherent sentence together to explain how much you annoy me; you don't work on my nerves, you chew on them with razor-sharp fangs, you gnaw at the scabs from previous annoyances, you IRRITATE me. is that coherent? a little?

oh god i can't even write about happy care-free things because my chest is scratching uncomfortably after thinking about you and how your face can't change and how the pitch and the tone of your voice pierces my eardrum and makes my palette feel itchy in the most impossible place to reach, am i still blabbing incoherently?

i'm definitely a nocturnal person, it's when i'm most awake. which sucks, because i'm not a STUPID vampire. stupid vampires.

i'm sorry for ever saying all those things i never meant. i don't have reasons, or explanations. no excuses, only questions. why did you believe me? why do you STILL believe me?

why do i talk so much, why am i a social idiot, why do i never know what to say, why why why why why why why

i'm exhausted. excess, take, nobody, why, hopeless, pointless, useless, helpless, pathetic, ridiculous, over-the-top, too much, excess. it's a sharp shock.

you're cute :)


greenhouse & global

i'm so sleepy and i want too much attention. i'm bored and my hands feel funny. last night was cold, and my blanket fell off of the bed. i wasn't happy when i woke up, but i'm happy now. i sound staccato, and it's gotta be annoying, so i'm going to make my sentences nice and lengthy, not too lengthy though, like this one is now.

today is another bunch of shit day, i'm in a make-believe polygamous relationship with my hero and bliss, and tomorrow is our make-believe one week, i think i'll pick them hayfever-inducing flowers. not because they're hayfever-inducing, but because it would be the make-believe relationshippy thing to do.

there's this addictive gene in my family, and everybody has this tendency to get addicted to things. many things. i think i'm addicted to attention (amongst many other addictions), but not "all eyes on me" attention, just one-on-one attention, i like it when people hold my hand, i like it when people tickle me, i like it when people play with my hair. is it weird?

"well, eggshells are not easy to hold; we uncurl and unwind while we sleep side by side."
such a good line.


elevator straight into my skull.

you beat me to it, he beat me to it, she beat me to it.

it was considerably shit of her to leave like that, we're kids, and now she's crying, she's grovelling. she says she's scared it's going to leave a 'scar' on our relationship. well, wake the fuck up, honey. i think i've learnt that mixing alcohol results in ugly things, things like slaps and screams.

she said things she shouldn't have, and my sister just told me she wishes i had a car, so that we could run away and never come back. she said it sincerely, i'm scared she hates it here. and i get to leave for week after week, and she's stuck. although, it's not like the place i go is paradise personified. it's kinda a stuffy shithole.

as soon as i can drive, i'm going to kidnap her, and were going to go be cool somewhere else. smoke lots of cigarettes, drink lots of good coffee. we're going to go watch gigs, and we're going to play guitar, and use the inside of the guitar as an ashtray, because ash won't change the sound. we'll just have to throw the butts away somewhere else.

anyway, maybe i should just pull myself out of that daydream before it gets way too good.

this is shit!
fuck, what would i do without the kills? what did i do before them?


fooled myself

everything is perfect, everything looks pretty. everything smells sweet, tastes electric. it all adds up, and fuels her addiction. she finds it hard to divert her eyes. she becomes tactile, and then she finds that her heart pains, something a little like the pain you have in your stomach after refraining from eating for far too long.

of course, this pain of the heart is then associated with a hunger, and her mouth waters. her tongue flicks across her lips and she can almost taste what is to come. decadence from another world; in a league of its own. her eyes glint in anticipation, and her teeth begin to clatter. waiting is an endlessly torturous experience.

she can no longer play with this distraction in her palm, she must have what she came for in the first place. her heart has become erratic and the appetence pangs are gradually becoming unbearably persistent. she attempts to occupy herself by trying to name the unrelenting pain. she comes up with desire; yearning; want; vacancy; void; famine.

she hates to sound cliche, so she says nothing. she talks, but she says nothing. there is so much she could be saying, so much she could elaborate on. but she speaks words of unimportant excess instead.

because saying anything notable would bring about vulnerability. and everybody would be able to see, everybody would come to their senses.


this slurred speech is my own.

lyrics make so much sense sometimes that it starts to scare me. words placed in the right order can portray such intensity that i feel like i want to run away from the music, but my feet won't move. it's a creepy sensation, really. it's like my heart separates, unnoticed by me, half of it yearning to indulge in the soppy emotions of the song, and the other half pushing and pulling in the opposite direction. and i'm left with a sizeable fissure, causing my heart to splutter frantically, and trip over itself like a puppy with paws that are hopelessly too large to move in anything akin to fluid motion. then the song is over, and my heart seamlessly becomes one again, and bounces against my chest irregularly, slowly picking up some form of rhythm again. even though my heart hardly maintains a steady pace anyway.

which sucks sometimes.

i asked around about the obsessions, and it is as i expected. nobody feels like i do. nobody practically falls in love with everyone and everything. i'm beginning to doubt the things that i feel mean a lot to me, because now that i have uncovered this unfortunate trait, i find it hard to discern between insignificance and importance. why does nobody else feel like i do? why do i always feel so much? why do i always feel more? why am i always the pursuer? why do things i chase always have to be chased after? when is someone i want ever going to rush after me? why do i think about things so much? why do i feel so much? too much? why do i want more than people have to give? why am i always so expectant, so disappointed? is there more to this? is there ever going to be any more than these trivial boys and girls? when are humans going to begin to gain depth? meaning? will there ever be anybody for me who feels as much as i do? will anybody ever match up to my intensity? will anybody ever ignore the other shit and try?

why do i have so many unanswered questions? why am i still asking?

one week of danger.

it's rocking the daisies today, and i can't go, and it's driving me crazy. positively mental.

why does she say we're immature and why does she wonder why we surround her, when she doesn't stay away? if she hates some of us so much, why does she stay there? she only makes it unpleasant for herself. i don't understand.

i also don't understand why everything has to be so fucking complicated. why do things have to change toward some people? why does everybody so sex-saturated? why does everybody judge so blatantly? why does everybody act? why doesn't anybody get it?


i think i have end-of-year syndrome. everything is bothering me, everybody is annoying me. i want to slip somebody some poison or bite something really, really hard.

i don't want this anymore. i don't want to be judged anymore. i don't want to watch every word i say.


designer drugs.

what is happy? man, i'm happy.

i feel delirious sometimes becasue so many thoughts rush through my mind, and they make me drunk. it's all so flowery and colourful and warm and it's making my head spin. in a good out-of-control way. and then sometimes, one person speaks and says something irrelevant, unnecessary even, and my rosy thoughts melt away, then everything is dark and gloomy. but the flowers always come back :)

i had such a good post the other night, and then somebody took my phone and i was left without internet access. now i have forgotten. it was something about fervent heat, and how emotions can feel warm, or cold.  i realised i said the wrong thing, crossed the line and instantaneously, my chest was doused in ice-cold water. it's just what it feels like. you say the right thing, you probably cross the line too, but you say the right thing, and the heat rises from my chest and warms me all the way down to my fingertips. things like that are cool. it was better the other night though, in bed, because i was listening to music and i was somewhere that was rosy and gloomy, somewhere sentimental, and that's where all the good shit happens.

probably not popular is fun now, because we have a song, and everybody has a part. we're going to go big, and if not, we're going to have a lot of fun hubbly, wine, and mighty boosh nights. we can play balderdash too, and sleep outside on the balcony under the the pretty sky, because it's summer and it'll be warm. and it's so beautiful on the balcony, everything looks prettier.

i've wanted to blog for so long and now i'm here, and now i've got writer's block.


what is sally here for?

it really is shit.

when you do the things you do, i feel like, if i jumped really high, i could literally lift off of the ground and stay there.

even though you annoy me so fucking much. well, come to think of it, it's probably why.

you shouldn't worry so much, think so hard about everything. you should let go and laugh like you sometimes do. only sometimes, though.

no delicate strings of pearl.

i can't decide if i smell more like a brewery or an ashtray. my sister says asthray, because my whole room smells like smoke.

i like city & colour, and i like the song "the girl". but what i really like is the hidden track after "the girl". it's pretty. and sleeping sickness, and sensible heart. and i don't know the names of the other songs.

it's sunny today, and i wish i could play outside. unfortunately, though, as much as one glance in the direction of the sun results in a sharp, lingering pain somewhere near the back of my skull. maybe i'll put on sunglasses and wrap a towel around my head and go lay outside, just to feel the warmth. i wonder if i could play guitar like that?

i'm listening to this song called "obsessions", and it's got me thinking. does everybody get as fixated with something as i do? is it normal to feel a pull in your chest when you hear a pretty song or see a pretty girl? because it's such an odd sensation, i don't know how to explain it. it's like my heart is already there and my body is trying to follow, or like my heart really wants to be there, and it bubbles up and pushes against my chest. am i the only one, or does everybody else just hide it exceptionally well?


the day after tomorrow we go back to school, to hostel; to reality. these holidays have been like a dream. my mom's in brasil and my aunty is ridiculously easy to lie to, it's funny watching how she eats it all up. anyway, therefore i have been blessed with freedom.

i'm happy it's ending though, because nothing can be this perfect and last. so before anything or anyone fucks out, it should end. avoid conflict :)

i just woke my sister up when i got home from buckley's (perfect night), and now she wants to go back to bed. she told me she kissed a boy and she smoked hubbly :) it's so sad though, i wasn't with her. oh well, i'm gonna go to bed too.

life is so good, i don't want anything to change. is that cheesy? am i sounding like a soppy facebook bumper sticker?

and why the fuck does she have to look the way she does?