 |
|
|||||||||||||||||||||
| Joined | |||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||
|
|
|
|
|
|||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||
|
                         |
|
|||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||
| Archives | |||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||
|
|
|
|
|
|||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||
|
01/01/2004 - 02/01/2004 02/01/2004 - 03/01/2004 |
|
|||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||
| Links | |||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||
|
|
|
|
|
|||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||
|
|
|
|||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||||||||
|
Thursday, February 19, 2004 |
|
||
|
||
|
I've moved my blog over to http://strange-myth.blogspot.com It turns out that another person owns a blog here with a similiar title to mine and I felt it too confusing (especially as she is a New Zealander too. Small world). | |
|
||
|
||
|
Monday, February 16, 2004 |
|
||
|
||
|
I can't think of anything to say | |
|
||
|
||
|
Saturday, February 07, 2004 |
|
||
|
||
|
Dear Somebody,
The imprint you've left upon my mind has lasted over a decade now. How can I escape it? I would have thought that all these years without seeing you would surely cause my memory of your face to become blurred and unrecognisable. But no. For the most part, I have forgotten you. Well, it's not as if I spend every day with you consistantly haunting my thoughts. I'm not quite that crazy. But it only takes the mention of your name, even if it's worn by another person, for me to wince in recognition of you. Your eyes, your voice, your cruelty. The way I loved you. Part of me wishes to see you again, to finish what was left unfinished. Part of me wishes to move far away, so that I might never chance meeting you when I'll least expect it - when I look like shit, when I feel like shit, when I've only left the house briefly to buy milk from the shop and I'm wearing my lazy sunday clothes. Because that's when I'll see you again. It'll be just my luck that'll I'll having an 'off day' and there you'll be. In the neighbourhood, cruising by, standing behind me in the store. Chuckling at the blush which will tint my skin. Knowing it's caused by your presence. And I'll divert my eyes, pretend to have not seen you, tap a foot nervously as the shopkeeper searches for the correct change in the cash register, all the while feeling that blush deepen upon my pale skin, all the while feeling your eyes seer into my back, sensing your grin widen at my humiliation. How can you still effect me? It's been over a decade. Will I still be dreading the thought of meeting you again in another ten years time? Will I still be dreaming that when we do come face to face once more, I'll be someone better than I am now? Someone not easily prone to blushing in your presence? And which out of the following two options, are true to my self? The wish that I might see you again, or the wish that I'd never known you to begin with? |
|
|
||
|
||
|
Monday, February 02, 2004 |
|
||
|
||
|
I love the beach when the weather is rough. It seems as if the ocean is cleansing the despair and anxiety from me with each pounding wave.
Few people visit the beach when the sky is heavy with rain, and so I feel free to scream into the wind if I choose, without suffering the stares of people who lack the ability to keep their eyes to themselves. The water was so cold, I had to force myself into it inch by inch. First my toes, then my ankles, then I shuffled foward until my knees were covered, and all the while my feet were sinking deeper into sand. It was the thought of making contact with a crab that at last caused me to throw myself into the waves, and once I was submerged I stayed there for an hour or more. Treading water, the ocean allowed me to wash away my past. For a while. If only I could have stayed submerged forever. |
|
|
||
|
||
|
|
||
|
||
|
I'm impartial to life. I realise this now.
It's not that I hate living, I'm fine with it - I have no desire to throw myself in front of a bus or anything. Though if I were to die tomorrow, my only concern would be the fate of my family and my dog. They tie me here, they keep a small part of me from jumping off the impartial fence and onto the side that drops 30 feet onto jagged rocks. If someone could assure me my family would be fine with my absense, and that they'd have a happy home without me, then what else would keep me here? Right now, I can't think of a single thing. |
|
|
||
|
||
|
Saturday, January 31, 2004 |
|
||
|
||
|
It's a complete lack of inspiration that's causing these moods. I drove to the beach yesterday. Just me. All day it had rained, and although the ocean was as grey as the sky I found some semblance of peace from my surroundings. I felt as maybe I wasn't merely existing. Maybe I was living.
Next time I'll take my dog. |
|
|
||
|
||
|
Monday, January 26, 2004 |
|
||
|
||
|
Why is it that I wake every day with such a horrible feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach? I walk through my day with this knot of unease churning within me, a nervous apprehension spreading out through my veins as if my very life blood is made up of liquid anxieties.
I feel as if I'm waiting for something terrible to happen. And I don't know why. Is it paranoia? Am I neurotic? Is it life telling me to wake up, instead of existing in this endless dream? Perhaps. But if I wake from this dream, what will I do? Walk through life wishing I could sleep it all away again? |
|
|
||
|
||
|
Tuesday, January 20, 2004 |
|
||
|
||
|
I have to move from my old blog. My family have found it, picked it to peices and in turn - picked me to peices. Maybe this time I can say what I want, and they'll never know. | |
|
||
|
||
Do not distribute anything from this site without permission