The reappearance of Olive ^-^

I am back from a treacherous journey of dragons and witches I befriended. I scaled mountains and learnt magic and-

I’ve been away for awhile. And well, a lot has happened that has really occupied my mind and made me really think about life. What I write down, will it ever mean anything to anyone? I cram my life into small words in a hope that I can make sence if I all and that people will understand….but somethings cannot be written down. You can indeed try, but what you see can only truly be understood by you because you’ve seen it. You’ve witnessed something,something that will impact you forever but you know it may never impact others. Why? Well, in life, you just have to look up and perceive it with your own eyes.to be there in person, is a miracle. We can craftillybbring words to life so well that they breath in the paper, but you are the only one to understand completely, the one who saw everything.

‘This is what I thought as people were screaming, singing, yelling and crying around me. This is what I thought as a protest unfolded in the locker rooms. A poster was clasped tightly in my hands. It read ‘loves knows no boundaries.’ A bible quote just turned into a ironic attack. I felt ecstatic, excited and empowered. But while the teenagers danced around in a circle, there were people with looks of concern and anger, and for some reason, people were crying. I felt scared, but then I realised I didn’t care if bad things happened. I’m going to keep this short, but, what happened made me realise how scary humans can be. It was a gay rights protest and the protesting was only an inkling of the fiery backlash sparked by an anti gay talk. I go to a catholic school, and I live in Australia, which is currently up in arms over a same sex marriage survey. Due to the survey, our catholic school believed it was fitting to showcase to the students why Catholics are anti-gay.  Things turned violent. 18 students suspended, five teachers fired. After the protest, I realised how one single thing can tear family and friends to bits as the environment became aggressive, and students attacked one another during class, violently yelling and boycotting  each other because some students are catholic and others are pro-gay. To think this is just a school, but it is a accurate and tamer representation of society. We live in wild world, and for you to see it all happening, it is something powerful. I myself am very passionate for same sex equality, however I was just a bystander in something bigger. But aren’t we all?

Love according to Mr Brain

The music was heavy dubstep, pounding down and completely destroying the fragile speakers thar rattled on the walls. Bright lights flashed across the floor and i stood on the side, watching as my doc martin books walked in beat with the booming electronic vibes. I could hear nothing but the music and yelling of high schoolers, but then i looked up and saw her coming straight for me. She looked scared. She took my hand and ran.

 

So a couple of nights ago we had our ball. a great time to socialize, get ‘prettied’ up, pick up a guy or gal and just have a good night. For some, that’s not the case. I looked to and thro and saw the couples sitting against the bricks, cuddling in the corners as the screaming music fuelled the night. I felt sad but kept moving. The girl who took me by the hand hid behind me and asked for protection amongst the crowd.

Have you ever been in a relationship in which you cannot get rid of someone? two days into dating they’ve crushed you with their love, so intoxicating, chucking you materialistic obejcts that are a sign of undying love but you just cannot take it? because you are scared? That’s what happened to Jamie, the girl who grabbed me. Even after breaking up, the guy could not get the message. He’d done things that scared her. She moved around the school gym in panic, hiding amongst the bouncing crowd and happy music as he himself sifted through the countless people.

And only today, as we sat around the music teacher in deep discussion did Jamie bring it up again. She still sounded freaked in her voice and she spoke loudly of it, and Mr brain sat, curling his moustache and stroking his beard. He then ruffled his dark hair and gave us advice i’d never heard before. He was softly spoking, but was still stern. His blue eyes were full of concern and so were his words. Never at that moment had i felt like there was such a fatherly presance. Mr Brain opened my mind and heart, and in a time like this, many people are in toxic relationships they cannot get out of. The two people at times burn up to quickly, and burn each other too quickly. Taylor, another friend, got out of a realtionship where the guy attempted to use depression and suicide to give her a guilt trip. Another girl told us and Mr Brain how she was attempting to fix up a relationship in wich each other gave each other depression. Today, posionouse relationships are oh so common and are a source for pure dark emotion to tear you a part from the inside, disguised as love. Love is a scary thing, and some people will never stop persisting to show case that love. No matter how scary.

So, please. If you are in a relationship in which you are depressed or scared or worried- Do not be trapped in word play or get caught up in their excuses and answers. If you are given affection you don’t want, do what is best for you. Do not string along, be up front. Say no. Do not keep any one guessing. the longer it goes, the worse it will get. I got out of a relationship much more lucky then other people. It hurts, and i still miss her, but i am much luckier then others.

So in the words of Mr Brain and myself, please stay safe. And if you are scared, talk to someone. Please.

Have a good day (⌒▽⌒)☆

All the little things

I’ve only just realised a couple of things, some things i’ve  become aware i have done. Small things, small things in habit do when i am upset.  The small things that should be insignificant items of living that have grown to be somewhat unhealthy once i realise it. I think everyone has the little things. Everyone has their own special little things that keep their hearts attached to the familiar, and their minds close to what they know. The little things that no one else but you can understand, like someone just blew star dust into your face an you try to capture the most prettiest star to you. My little things are objects and activites that make me feel like i never left home. Here is a list of my little things;

-My teddy bears ~ I have three cuddly soft toys that i have in my bed every single night. On nights where i can’t see one of the soft toys, i will pull apart and shift my bed to the other side of the room until i find them. Once i lost Jackie, a little puppy i had since i was a toddler, and when i couldn’t find her, i hugged myself in tears of guilt and sadness, like i broke a promise of an old family friend.

-A can a coke at the end of the day ~ just recently i broke out of the terrible habit of buying a can of coke everyday. Not only was in not cost effective on my behalf, but it was becoming a compuslive habit that i convinced myself i did need. Now here is the silly thing…. I always drank the coke because that’s what i did at home. I did a lot of phyiscal labour at home, and i was always rewarded with a cold coke can straight from the cool room. Coming from home, i had made it that coke was one of the only things i could relate to home.

-(a really stupid one) Tracky pants ~ My Mum awhile ago gave be a handfull of tracky pants to wear for lazy sundays. When i was really sick with a fever, i refused to wear any other pants and cried when all the ones Mum gave me were in the wash. I am a sad sad little person.

-Sugary coffee ~ This unhealthy beverage i take daily while studying and writing. Not only does it help me boost my performance, make me feel mentally happier and serve as an unhealthy coping mechanism, but it stops me from killing idiots ^-^

-County music like Johny cash and the Lumineers ~ It’s what my Mum always listens to.

-Little kids screaming with laughter or crying for their parents (actually, this makes me cry, but it’s a little thing for me)

Have a nice day。.:☆*:･'(*⌒―⌒*)))

She wore pink because it was his favourite colour.

Hello everyone! I am terribly sorry for not posting in awhile, i have recently had a funny set of days….And i’ve only just recovered now. I have been sick with a fever for the past two days and had lots of work to do over my weekend….I’ve only just got free time now 🙂 so, many eventful things happened, some sad, some scary and some plain stupid. This is just a tiny collection of the eventful things that happened last week.

 

Reasons why you don’t give homicidal people paper planes

The first snippet of last week’s adventures was when i came back from home. I reembmering writing about it before, but we had a paper plane compeititon i had practiced all weekend for with my german half Aunty. The rules of the competition were simple; At lunch time go up to the oval. One person folds (This was me of coarse) and some one else threw the plane (my friend Clarrisa.) Now, clarrisa is someone known for all the wrong things. If someone from our frienship group became a murderer, it would be Clarrisa.She’s a very bright and chirpy person who makes everyone smile, but also has a large tenancy to become really intruqed in the art of murder. And if she’s hving a bad day, it is safe to say someone won’t have their eyes. This particular day was not Clarrisa’s day, and it was easy to tell by the way she hun her head and made passive aggressive comments to everyone with a scary smile. Sound sinister yet?

I beleived that the paper plane compeition would be a good way for her to relax, and there was no real chance of her killig anyone during this period, right? I was wrong. after a pain sstaking five minutes of foling, i regretably gave her the paper plane, nervouse i did something wrong and the plane would spiral to the ground isntead of go up because i missed an important step. Clarrisa took it from my hadns impateitnyl and iwsihed her the best of luck. It was actually a very stormy day, and the wind was blwoing from the east, so i instructed Clarisa to throw it in the west to avoid going it out of bounds. And well, she threw it to the west, but somewhat too hard. As soon as the whistel sounded and the paper plane left Clarrisa, people from the audience screamed. Clarrisa had jsut thrown it into the crowd, and what’s even better, it got a small child right in the eye. Clarrisa saw the plane and cupped her hands over her mouth.

Pink hair for a reason

We have a science teacher, a new one that replaced our old one. Her name is Mrs Harrup and she’s someone who’s very passionate in changing the wordl for the better. Stopping cimalte change and ending poverty. I really like because she is jsut so passionate and does not let teaching guidelines stop her from from voicng her opinion. On the first day of meeting the lady ( a couple of weeks ago) her most notciable features were her pink aesphetic. Pink shirt, pink pants, even pink laptop case. Another norciebable detail was the rainbow apple watch on her wrist.  That was her way of making a statement. Even though it is rule teachers do not talk of political opinions (especialy gay marriage) she was very impassioned in explaining her feelings. Her own brother was gay, and he was someone very important to her. Her brother had a boyfriend over in Sydney, and he was a loving uncle for the teacher’s children. However, her brother was taken by cancer. She wore pink because it was his favourite colour and it was her way of coping with the situation. She also felt that i was carrying on his legacy and it was a way to remember him. She’s very subtle and quiet around the topic, but if you ask her why gay marriage should be legal, she will give you an ear full. But, last Friday was not her day. We all walked in and saw her solemn, worn out face.She smiled cheerfully at us as usual, but there was a huge difference. Her hair was a soft dark pink which actually looked amazing on her. She’d recelty stated her year 12 daughter was gonig throguh a rouh aptch, and is a very depresed and unhappy students. Recentyl things had gotten worse, and the teacher said how dieing of the hair was a way to turn the situation into a positive one. After ten minutes of the lesson, she left because someone had come for her.

Jamie, Currie and i 

On sunday, Jamie currie and i went to the markets. Currie isn’t her real name, but it’s what we call her because it’ close anough to her real name, and who really needs real names anyway? These markets were a long time friend to me, a place of heritage i absolutely adored as i child. I hardly saw the city, but when i did, the fremetnale markters were where i always wanted to go. It was often noisy and crowed, but it made up for that with busking muscions and magicioncs, the tasty smells of foriend foods and the friendly smiles of stall owners. There was so much culture in fremantle, and seeing all the people there, i felt so happy to be surrounded by different types of cultures. Majortyi of the trip, Jamie, Currie and i sat outside on the pathway as we watched stutsmen juggle fire sticks while on top of a tall unicycle, as well as having a bitter argueemtns with the drunken men on the balcony of a pub next door. The men were not sober at all and they hurled abuse at the man’s talent. He conitnued to swear at them and ended with disagreement with ‘Well if you can’t take it, don’t give it!’ They drunakrds then shut up and retreated from the balcony.

That has to be the most interesting events over the past week. I promise to post more reguraly, but i havn’t had a lot of time recently (´ ∀ ` *)

Have a lovely day everyone (^_-)≡☆

 

Four days in a photograph

A ten-year-old boy called James sat in a cold hospital bed, tears streaming down his gaunt face. He looked like nothing more then a black and white drawing from his papery skin. His eyes were lost in a photograph he clasped within his slight hands. It was an old photograph, encased within a partially broken wooden frame. Two boys stared back with beaming eyes, over exposed smiles and faded colors making the photo look old. Too old. Forever gone. In the picture, the boy on the left was James, himself. A wide eyed, tall boy with feathery brown hair. He wrapped his young brother, Todd, in a proud hug. Todd was much smaller, with blue eyes and blonde hair. He had bright red chubby cheeks and deep dimples. In the picture he was six years old.  The photo looked so serene. So peaceful with the light blue sky in the background and the giant green trees that swayed in the wind. It was so serene it seemed surreal, especially in contrast with the current tragedy.  James tried to compress the horrific memories, the forever ensuing screaming that would not leave his mind, and the hushed words between doctors and nurses that flooded his head like uncontrollable poison.

Car crash…Two cars collided on a turn…Four people in the car…. How many?……Two parents and…Broken Leg…. Lots of blood…Night time…. announced dead….

 But then the subconscious whispers faded away and the sadness disappeared when James heard the sliding doors open, and the bounding of small feet.

‘Jamey!!!’

James put the photograph on his bed side table and gingerly turned his head to see his little brother yelling in joy and jumping up onto the bed. James rubbed the tears from his puffy red eyes to look happier in the presence of his little brother. Instantaneously James’s once pallid body burst with warmth and the dreary colors of the room were replaced with soft glows of mellow luster upon the arrival of Todd’s comfort. Todd sat upon his brother’s bed and emitted a giant gappy grin. James returned the grin, overcome with happiness seeing his little brother’s endearing rosy pink face. Todd had a huge grin that lacked teeth, causing a slight lisp in his excited words that tumbled over each other in speech. The typical over excited six-year-old.

‘Jamey, the doctors told me you were sad, but I’m going to be by your side no matter what, to make you sure you’re not alone. You’re going home in four days so not long left! I’ve been counting! Look, I brought you paper and crayons so we can make your hospital room full of color!’

So they began drawing, Todd illustrating bright and exuberant rainbows and animals. However, James was lost within his mind, piece of paper blank as his gaze was lost to the photograph sitting idly on the bed side table. The two boys in the picture haunted James for some reason. By the time Todd had sticky taped drawings to over half the wall, James still had nothing. Todd looked at his brother inquisitively, but then began to help James draw.

When afternoon came, Todd left, leaving James alone with all his pictures, hugging him and kissing him on the cheek.

‘Get better soon!’

 

On the second day, Todd came back with a giant book that looked double his weight and size. James eyed it suspiciously as Todd dropped it onto James’s lap.

‘And what’s this?’ James questioned.

‘It’s a photo album to make you feel better. Mamma always said it helps to look back at photos and laugh at the good memories, not cry over the bad memories.’ He mused.

‘Why would I cry- ‘

Todd eagerly flicked over the black leather cover to reveal the first page which encompassed a bountiful amount of photos. James gingerly placed his finger on the first one, pointing at a younger James and younger Todd holding a giant ginger cat. Todd looked at the photo and giggled.

‘Remember Mrs. Pottes? Our cat?’

‘Of course I do! Well, kind of…. I…I can’t actually remember much- ‘

But before James could finish, Todd had flicked to another random page. For the rest of the day, the two boys laughed at different pictures holding funny memories, and recollected the good times.  James every once and awhile looked at the neglected photo on his bedside table, and felt some kind of stabbing sensation upon seeing it. James would then slightly remember the crash. It has only been two days, and the wound was still open. But Todd healed the wound. He made everything feel much better then what it really is. Outside, the sun was beaming down, flooding the windows with pleasant sun light. The room smelt of the pretty flowers that sat on the bedside table.

 

On the third day, James had a visit from the doctor, leaving him sadder then before. The doctor was carrying on about ‘mental health’ and ‘closure’. Whatever that meant. Todd came in soon after and gingerly tapped a crying James on the arm, handing him a piece of paper. James slowly got up, wiping away the tears, and looked at the paper given to him by his little brother.

‘Please don’t feel sad Jamey. I wanted to make you feel better. Because you always made me feel better, and you’re me hero.’

James looked at the picture Todd drew, a colorful yet messy drawing of the two brothers playing together, but James had what seemed to be a super man cape and a big heroic smile. It looked really scrappy, but to James, it meant everything. James turned to Todd and gave him a massive hug.

 

On the forth and last full day of James staying at the hospital, Todd brought in a bag full of match box cars for the two to play with. James was unable to leave the bed (Why was he even in the bed in the first place? Who cares?) so they played cars on the bed. Halfway through James completely nailing an awesome flip with his green Fleetwood, he looked up from the cars to watch Todd make revving noises and chucking the small vehicles to and fro. At that moment, James only just realized how tiny and delicate Todd looked. James recounted bittersweet memories of the two playing with the cars, but it brought on a somewhat sad memory full of regret.  It was almost as though Todd read James’s mind, and brought it to attention.

‘Remember when you stole my red race car from me? And then you lost it?’

James looked sadly at the car, and nodded. Todd’s funny revving noises ceased completely.

‘I’m really sorry Todd.’

Then there was a sudden sharp pang in James’s heart, like the memory had torn a large hole of guilt and resentment. Todd kept speaking as he played with the little cars. But something was now very different as Todd’s face turned papery, and the air grew colder. It was almost as if someone stole away the sun.

‘You were always my hero James, because you were big and strong, and you helped me. and you were so good at writing stories. You always had an awesome imagination.’

Suddenly, James felt like bursting into tears, hugging and holding Todd, telling Todd he loved him, and he never wanted him to leave. Telling him he was sorry for picking on him, stealing his stuff, breaking it. He was sorry for ignoring Todd when he got on his nerves.  He was trying to reach out into nothingness for Todd, but he was also running away from everything. Everything in life was unlivable, and the only life James realized he wanted to live…

Was the one in the photograph.

The harrowing combination of screeching of tires, screaming of children and shattering of glass broke through the blissful façade. The colorful pictures flickered from the walls to reveal cold and blank grey. All of the match box cars disappeared, and so did Todd. A dreadful shiver ran down James’s spine as cold air whipped through. A faint scream kept ringing in his ear, overwhelming, deafening, and sickening. But mostly, terrible, terrible loneliness.……In the distance, amongst the screaming, doctors spoke in muffled whispers.

Four people in the car…The little brother died instantly upon impact…

James hugged himself, alone in the hospital room, with nothing but a photograph of something lost forever.

I’m sorry Todd.

 

 

We are all in little boats

During my time home, i got to meet relatives a barely knew existed until recently. A half Aunty and possible grandmother from Germany. They were absolutely lovely, and they spent time with us. Sonia, somewhere in her thirties, was really good at speaking English due to her time in Scotland and England. Sonia works as an air hostess and spoke of so many eye opening stories, from very humorous passenger jokes to people hanging themselves in the airlines toilet. Anastasia, her 11 year old daughter and my half Aunty, was also really good at speaking english, however had trouble with some words.They both carried strong exotic accents that excited me and brought many German lollies home, like gummy bears and Marzipan chocolate. i took a bite of the Marzipan, and i’m sorry to say it tasted very disgusting. (never ever try marzipan, honestly is seems like the german equivalent of Coriander).Anastasia was really, really smart for her age, and knew a lot about the world. She was also a frequent victim to mobbing at her school. she only had one good friend who was a boy, who also falls victim to the mobbing. As we walked through the trees she spoke highly of her friend, but when describing him, whirled her index finger around the side of her head to convey a sense of crazy her friend had. we sat making paper planes, experimenting for what flew the furthest and she spoke more of her home. She moved from the paper planes and made multiple cute and tiny paper boats.

‘There are in people, and out people. People who are accepted and those who aren’t….’

I finished the last fold of my plane and looked at her. She’d coloured in her little boat with bright colours and had put three people in a boat. Herself, her Mother and her Grandma.

‘I wish there was a place for the out people.’

 For one whole afternoon, we just threw paper planes and folded random objects out if paper, and i got to learn more of Anastasia as the burning hot sun gradually retreated to the dieng red pigments of the sky. In very honest retrospect, we are all in our little boats. All we want to do is live, and sail happily. But, it takes one little rock to tip someone over. Some of us have lots of people on their boats, and some have none. All it may take is a wrong comment, wrong type of clothing, and wrong viewpoint, and you’ll be chucked over board. We’re all fighting, just to keep our little boat afloat.

For Anastasia, it’s to be accepted, not as a girly girl, but someone who likes to be a boy. For others, like me, it’s the struggle to be accepted by friends and family. To others, it is quite literally a battle for life, and once their boat sinks, they’re gone forever.

Don’t tip someone’s boat.

~You know the marzipan stuff i spoke about with so much enthusiasm? Welp, Sonia and Anastasia gave me tea to take back. First night away from home, i ripped open the packet of German tea and took an excited sniff of the tasty aroma…..

It’s Marzipan tea (´ ∀ ` *) ~

Mama’s don’t let your babies grow up to be cow boys

Over the weekend, i flew home and spent time with family and other people from the area. It was amazing to be home.

I woke up early Wednesday morning and looked outside- It was still very dark, but the mellow yellow was ever so slightly creeping up the horizon. I walked down the stairs with overnight bag tucked under my arm and guitar slung over my shoulders, meeting little Tash at the front. Everyone called her little because she was literally the size of your eight year old brother. I sat down besides her waiting for our ride, and began to fold paper aeroplanes.

‘What’s that for?’ Tash squeaked, looking over my shoulder as we sat on the couch.

‘Paper plane competition. This is very very important, so i need to win. And to win, i need practice. ‘

Tash did not even try to stifle her laugh. ‘Wow, very important!’

‘Screw you. Just you wait ’till you see how far this baby will go- We’ll win first prize for sure!’

Later on, we rode in the car as the city lights screamed past in their bright neon flashes. I admired the city lights, but in a pitiful kind of way. It was pretty, but it was all just an artificial light show.

The country is better…..

The plane landed, and my brother and i were driven home, into the middle of no where. Back to the red dirt. The dyeing trees. The lack of civilisation. The forever going stretch of land that entails many stories of home. The quiet, away from all the loud noise.

I was home. A lot happened at home, but i’m going to have to break this down into more stories, because i know lots of people are not fans of long ongoing pieces if texts….

That night, we sat around the fire that burned within the metal car tire rim. It crept up the sky and illuminated everyone’s faces. i could see the chubby cheeks of Mathew, a young boy that already had such a fruity laugh, the glowing eyes of Peter, the worn out lines on Tony and the reflection of the fire within the glasses of James. Right next to me, my German cousins sat.

Peter and Tony were brothers, going into their forties, possibly even older. I really liked Tony because he was a honest and kind man that was very helpful with his hands and had a unique music taste. Ding, Mathew’s dog, bounded up to Tony and sat down, Tony gingerly scratching Ding behind the ear. It was a cold chill in the air because it was Autumn, but the smoke from the fire made sure we weren’t too cold. Or could breath properly. The men yelled at each other, laughing, making crude remarks and ‘pissing on each other’s parade’ in sly retorts as they recollected the happenings of today’s work, over the burning liquor.

Peter got out his guitar and began to sing and play after the teasing of all the other men, playfully attacking his ability to play guitar. The first song to be played was ‘The Gambler.’ I remember the song from early child hood, but haven’t heard it since. After a few chords and grimacing, peter looked up.

‘i don’t know the words. Anyone?’

‘Eh, i know a bit.’

‘Well sing then!’

Matty began in a low gruff voices.

‘On a warm summer’s evening, train bound for no where…’

I watched the fire crackle and the wood slowly burn up in the hot embers. I could hear James backing up Matty, followed by Peter.

‘You gotta know how to hold em’…..know when to fold ’em!

Then, it was just one of those moments you could never ever recollect in the same way again. They were a bunch of tired-ass drunken men after a day of hard work mustering in the country. and now the’ve just gone emotional over a song from the seventies.

I watched as the fire kept dancing and flickering, bringing life to the sky. I could see the stars again.

‘Know when to walk away, know when to run!’

Just imagine a bar full of sad and hung over men leaning over the counter- and you have that kind of environment. I looked up, and saw all the stars. I looked down, and saw Tony holding his thin face in his hands, like he was crying.

The kept singing out of tune but in loud shouting, before switching the chords in tune of some kind of song rambling on about making sure your children don’t become cow boys. In fear of your babies becoming lonely men of the country.

The warm fire made me feel alive again, but to be surrounded by such amazing people, it made me smile, and made we want to actually smile. These people i knew- They were who i loved. I loved the old house, and the people in it, and their stories. The out of style country music and the swearing of the men as they tried to out do each other. The calm, easy atmosphere of the bush.

I was home.

 

Broken heart, dead friends, lost memories

 

‘So, you guys still dating?’

‘Nope.’

‘Welp, life sucks for you.’

I’ve never known until now how painful those first three words are, how much a punch in the throat and a kick in the heart it was. I misunderstood the cut throat of words. I never took myself to be a love sick puppy.

So, for the past couple of days, i’ve been taking things easy. And, to be honest- I feel happy. it’s like a weight as been lifted from my shoulders and my heart is as light as a feather. Well that’s what i said before i burst out into tears and rolled around on the floor. We’re still friends, but i’ve had to spend some time alone. Night one of breaking up, i spent my night writing a story about how depressed i was, taking my sadness out on a made up boy who had broken his leg. Night two, i listened to sad romantic songs from the Lumineers and sung along as i cried into my book. (Do i sound like a middle aged, no hoper yet?) under the soft orange glow of my desk light. third night, i wrapped myself up into my blankets and pretended to be my five year old self’s imaginary friend, Snow flake. Just last night, i got a pair of scissors out and looked at a rainbow beaded anklet that has been tied around my right ankle for over a year. Without even thinking, i snipped it off and put it in the bin. I finished my book, only for the dog to die at the end. Do you know how fluffing hurtful that is?!?! I cried myself to sleep and smashed the book over Jamie’s head when she said it wasn’t a ‘real’ problem. I see why you need hard cover books.

The same night, i ransacked my cupboard and spread all my Polaroid pictures of her and i. The faded border and the over exposed colours in the picture made it look old, feel old, like an antique that should have been destroyed if it weren’t for her innocent smile. I picture of her still hangs above me working area, a small snippet of her and i dressed up as mimes, ready to scare a bunch of little kids.

Today i doodled a picture of her dancing. She’s a hell of a dancer. I wouldn’t be surprised if she makes it into the tv business with her acting and dancing capabilities.  Closest thing to Michelle Fyfer that i’ve ever seen…. I looked at the drawing and smiled, tracing my pencil over the details of her bright face. I then scrunched it up and chucked it onto the messy floor that was already littered with paper. I looked at the birthday card she gave me when i turned fourteen, one she made herself. I put it in a box full of drawings i drew when i was five years old and old letters from pen pals in Germany. I stuck up pictures of figmentave imagination right above my bed, pictures of kids jumping from planet to planet and a giant cat floating through space. it makes me feel like nothing is real, and i silently hoped it would give me happy dreams, but i don’t dream down here.

I considered smashing my happiness jar, but instead banged my head on the wall. Did you know you burn 150 calories doing that?

Any who, i guess i can say life sucks~ i’ve been feeling alone. i feel like i’m apart of a one person team, but that’s okay.  I look up, and smile. Because in the words of Bob Marley, everything is gonna alright. Even if your favourite character in a book dies.

But, i guess life is just a never ending book. Your favourite character dies, but you learn to move on. Because, it is your job to keep reading, and find out how your story ends.

I guess there is a happy ending. Tomorrow i fly home early in the morning, and i can finally see my family again.

Please don’t take my sunshine away

Right now I’m hurting. I’m hurting a lot.  I obviously misunderstood the devastation known as heart break. At first, I thought it would be a weight lifted off my shoulders, but, I know I cannot leave a burning wreckage without some kind of scar. my heart aches, but I’m all dried up, the tears are gone. I said I understood, and I smiled, and I felt happy, but then you disappeared and then I realised-

I am lonely.  I feel so, so, so lonely. And no matter how much tea, writing and reading I do, I still cannot fill up this empty hole in my heart. I’ve looked at the cover of my favourite book but turned the other way, welling up with tears. Chocolate has turned into a more unhealthy co-dependent relationship than what I ever had with you.

When I was younger and wondered what it would feel like to be loved, I was excited but worried. Love wasn’t meant to hurt, was it? I never understood why a person would fall head over heals for someone, I thought it was all superficial, materialistic and stereotypical stuff just for teenagers. But, now I know. I would have scaled mountains for you. I would have done anything for you.  You might not love me anymore the way you used to, but…I will love you forever and ever. You gave me wings and taught me how to fly, but I’m my own person now.  I see why people cry over love now.

I may leave your mind, but you will never leave mine, my darling.

Today I lost my other half, but, I should have seen it coming. You were what gave me the power to be proud of who I am, and I will always love you for that. It’s going to be a hard couple of weeks. To me, you were still the person who was my sunshine, my only sunshine.you made me happy when skies were grey. You never know dear, how much I loved you,

Please, don’t take my sunshine away

Always.

I’m hurting. But, I will try to keep fighting. Relationships come and go, but that doesn’t mean you lose who you are. Keep fighting. I will treasure my memories of you, you laughing, giving me piggy backs, holding my hand as we waded through murky water, holding my shirt so I didn’t fall off the rocks into the rapids, us running through the rainy festival of sparkling dusk lights, you mailing me a giant package of objects to remember my friends, you singing me happy birthday with your own home made cake when I had no family with me. You were my family.

Thanks for the memories (o^ ^o)

Tiny memories in a Happiness jar ♡

“Did they get you to trade
Your heroes for ghosts?” ~ Pink Floyd

My most favourite, special song in my entire life is ‘Wish you were here’ by Pink Floyd. Pink Floyd approaches and musically show cases various social and mental problems such as abandonment, fear, war, love, sex, depression, drugs, and disconnection. Withdrawal from life, unregistering oneself from what is going on around you, and comfortably numb in a lonely state that shows no colour. Everyone and thing is depleted of life.

The song was written when a friend of the singer went through this disconnection. He was there with them, but he was also not there. He was as empty as the world he could not perceive any longer. The song first enter your ears with radio static and in poor quality, like what you would here on a radio. This emphasises disconnection, from everything. Everything is distant, and nothing comes through clear anymore.

A young child, with high hopes. They grow up, with high hopes.

They lose their mind in the society they have been placed into. They were there, but also were not there. They were nothing.

I was nothing, and for everyone and thing i cared for, they were nothing more then the colour bars, meaningless shapes that scream a high pitched voice and display themselves across the dull television screen. The interference static drained my ears and left no room for love. I felt empty, but i did not care at all. People died and bombs blew up but i thought maybe the bombs were okay. I mean-

We gawk at our ‘amazing’ abilities. We can go to the depths of the oceans, we can get photos from mars. We can even walk on the moon. We are just so, so proud of how advanced we are as a society. But, we are nothing more then a pitiful group of eager carbon based life forms who pat themselves over the shoulder and endorses in privileges while people die from simple hunger. Simple, simple hunger. Aren’t we just so advanced?

Before, i believed we are so stupid, and we mean nothing, one single bit. We will continue to live happily in our world, making ourselves happy by being a successful, but it will mean nothing in the end. We are nothing in the end.

No one is anything, and they mean no sense to me. to me, the people who tried to talk came through like waves, distance and nonsensical. The stupid shapes just kept screaming. We’re nothing more then fish in a fish bowl. We pay money, just to get a main role in a cage.

I cried repeatedly, and everything broke me down to tears but i never had a proper reason.

I’m better now, and i see beauty in life. I still cry a lot, but i’m passionate for what i do, the people i love and the people in the world i want to help. I know i mean something, Sure, to the universe we are tiny, but i believe we are the universe just experiencing itself. We are special, and we are who we think we are.

One thing that has made me smile when things get sad is a happiness jar. Too often, i take for granted all the good things of life as they are flooded over with sad things. Once a week, pick your most happiest memory, and write in down. Put it in a jar. After one year of this, open up the jar and look at all your good memories. These good memories are you, and if we take these for granted, we lose sight of what life is all about.

I sometimes lose myself to thinking how i have no idea what i am- but, i just sit down (cry a little), sushi roll myself into a blanket and drink tea and read a good book. okay is okay.

I highly recommend a happiness jar. It sounds super cheesy, but i am not exaggerating when i say this thing brings a smile to my face.

Aim to make some one smile today 😀 a little act of kindness can make someone’s day ❤