aljgaludhgfaligfalsjdkgfajlsdfgsvn;qieurhgkdsjgahlp!

I can't write.
The words aren't flowing.
I know what needs to be said, but I can't make it right.
Can't make the damn thing work.
I don't want him to laugh at me.
"Silly little girl," he will think, "with her stupid ideas and her incoherent speech that clutters."

There's too much to do.
I can't think straight. I want to sleep...but this will NEVER be done otherwise.
I need to set a goal and keep it.
But I don't want this to sound so LAME.

There's too much to lose with this.
Too, too much.

aljgaludhgfaligfalsjdkgfajlsdfgsvn;qieurhgkdsjgahlp!
the end.

To be continued...

We're both far away from home,
underneath these blinding city lights.
Compartmented hearts divide the fall,
between the crush and the conquer.

A closure to something I hoped would last forever.

It is...just past 1am.

I am to wake up in a few hours, well, six, to go to school. Where I shall do as I do most days.

I don't even know if I have homework to do.

But I know...

I just finished reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows...

and what an emotional rollercoaster it has been.

Intense is hardly a strong enough adjective to describe it. It was and end. Maybe not THE end, but definitely an end to THIS saga.

This epic that I have obsessed about for half my life. Eight years, this year, it will make it exactly. It's a hard fact to accept that this is really an end. No more waiting for another installment. No more wondering. Well, of course, we can always wonder, but a lot of things were explained. It's quite sad.
I'm quite upset.

A lot of people don't understand why I care so much. I know a lot of people do. But none of that matters. All I know, is that this story...has influenced me for the past eight years, so how can I not be impacted?

So I cocooned myself in my room for the most part of this weekend, and read.

I thought I would cry at the end, but I didn't. I cried near the end, but not the end. The end was bittersweet. A closure to something I hoped would last forever.

But now I'm just drained. Not so much tired. But now I can place this book amongst the rest that reside happily on my bookshelf and call it complete.

...so many things happened...

...so many things that I didn't expect, and yet some I did...

I need to convince myself that the end of this book does not signify the end of my childhood. Because it feels like it. So much. And it hurts.

falling. asleep. and into nothingness.

And you can feel them pressing your insides
inside,
against the walls,
and holding on so tight
they don't care.
They don't care, because they won't move anyways.
It's you they're moving.
It's you they're moving.
Slowly singing you to sleep.

A silent apathy where,
you don't care to push back against them,
pressing tightly...
very tightly.

A silent melody,
and a confused harmony.
The pitch is off,
The button's off,
And the little stitches you made,
To hold things together,
Decide to fall apart.
They just decided to fall apart.

Cradling you softly.
"Shh, Shh, Shh," they whisper.
They whisper,
They whisper,
They whisper.

Blue cup. Masking Tape. Silver Pen.

There are times in life when you just want to stay inside.

You want to shelter yourself from the outside world, and simply exist amongst your own familiar surroundings without anyone judging you for what you appear to be. The walls block out everything you don't want to hear, or not hear.

I write each of these words with trepidation. . .

They're slowly spilling themselves out into this blog...thoughtfully. I'm hoping I don't make a mistake. I'm hoping that this will make some sense.

But back onto the subject at hand...

I don't feel like I need to hide most of the time.

Lately I've just been wondering, "what's wrong with me?"

But now I KNOW.

I feel disgusting.
All the water in the world won't save me now (the water never worked, trust me). The water lost it's meaning and power...and chokehold over me...years ago. The water does not make me feel good.

It's the way that number can dictate your life...that's so ridiculous. They're just numbers...but they mean so much more. They made me feel like shit in Advanced Maths Yr 9 and 10. They make me feel like shit in Chem. They make me feel like shit when they tell me I've gained back nearly half the weight I fought to lose when I was 13.
But it's not the numbers fault.
I can't really blame it on them...it would seem rather silly.
It's my fault.

I live with this brain, I live with this body, and in this skin and with these consequences that derive from my actions.

I try so hard, not to be a failure.
But not hard enough.
Definitely, not hard enough.

I'm never satisfied. It's so contradicting however...that the rounded stomach and the thighs that touch are comforting sometimes...

Comments on the world around me...

Reading the SMH page today as I do most days (as it is my only source for a news fix because I do not have a long enough attention span to watch the news on TV), here are my thoughts on current issues/stories that have caught my attention:

The hype over the i-phone...
People lining up for hours to be the first ones to get it.
All this fuss somehow makes me feel a little pessimistic. I mean...what kind of depreciation occurs on mobile phones? How quickly will Apple decide to make a new model of it, quickly making all those original buyers seem oh-so out of date? And what are the chances that within a week or so, there'll be articles about all the bugs and faults within this first model? I can imagine the picture to go along with the story: Angry customers, littering major city streets with remnants of i-phones that randomly exploded due to an ill-programmed 'delete' function.

Australian Dollar...
Is tipped to be at around $0.90USD before Christmas. I'm excited! This is awesome! I always used to look at the exchange rate and be so disappointed as to where our dollar fared in the international market, especially next to world superpower America, so this is fantastic. Let's just hope this actually does happen.

Criss Angel...
Now...this dude. Is scary. I was always in awe of his power. His levitation went far beyond regular 'magicians', even so far that they called his show "Mindfreak". But off that point...they're saying now, that he has a wife, but he has never acknowledged her, and now they're getting a divorce, and I can't but help feel a little ashamed for Angel. I don't like these kinds of people, that abandon their old selves for flashy fame. His wife alleges that they had been dating for 10 years and then got married 5 years ago, but then he became famous...and basically just ignored her. Although it makes me angry...this article was very one-sided. And there are always two sides to a story. No one ever bothers to set the two stories straight, however.

Princess Isabella of Denmark...
Awww man, that pic of Prince Christian with his mum and dad and baby sister is SO DAMN CUTE. He's got cute little blonde hair and looks so innocent. How did he grow up so fast? Yes, I must admit...I pay attention to royals. I watched their wedding on TV, read those special lift-outs in newspapers and magazines, watched as Mary became a fashion icon, then watched as everyone thought she was going anorexic. And now this. Another baby. She's baptised in the same font as all the other Danish royal babies have been baptised in since 1671 and is wearing the same gown that was worn in 1870. It's mind boggling, time is. How things can remain for so long. The weird part of this whole article is this sentence: "Princess Mary's sisters Jane Stephens and Patricia Bailey, who live in Hobart, and her brother John Donaldson, from Western Australia, did not attend the christening."...are they trying to suggest some sort of rift? It feels fishy...just the way they slided that sentence in, with no explanation at all. Journalists are confusing people.