Wreck of the Day

Driving away from the wreck of the day
And the light's always red in the rear-view
Desperately close to a coffin of hope
I'd cheat destiny just to be near you
If this is giving up, then I'm giving up
If this is giving up, then I'm giving up, giving up
On love, On love

Driving away from the wreck of the day
And I'm thinking 'bout calling on Jesus
'Cause love doesn't hurt so I know I'm not falling in love
I'm just falling to pieces

And if this is giving up then I'm giving up
If this is giving up then I'm giving up, giving up
On love, On love

And maybe I'm not up for being a victim of love
When all my resistance will never be distance enough

Driving away from the wreck of the day
And it's finally quiet in my head
Driving alone, finally on my way home to the comfort of my bed
And if this is giving up, then I'm giving up
If this is giving up, then I'm giving up, giving up
On love, On love

"It's happening again, isn't it?" "I'm afraid so love, I'm afraid so."

Breakfast. That's how it started. You bought me a strawberry and cream tea because you thought Earl Grey would be too boring.

The Friday before I was due to head out of town, we were sprawled out on grass. You told me there was something about me. I spent the rest of that day by the river, sitting in the rain, with Rachel Yamagata on repeat, writing endlessly about you.

I love you.

And these days, and especially on nights like tonight, I wish desperately that I could be what you want and need. At every turn and corner. I think I used to be. I think you've told me before.

But needs and wants change all the time.

For someone who's hated fitting into moulds, I've found myself wishing for one, for you. It's painful as much as it is amusing, the thought.

There's so much to write. It's right here, right on the tip of my tongue, slipping out my fingers, but at the same time, there isn't much else I know how to say.

This is it, really. This is pretty much it, if you must know.

I just.

I don't know how, but I wish I were more what you wanted.

But I know, more than most, not to push things. To let things fall where they will.

It's half past twelve, and I've been ready for bed since quarter to ten.

I'm bordering on delirium, I want to know what to say.

I'm falling apart.

I'm falling apart.

I'm,

I'm falling apart.

oh, and who would've known, there'd still be bits of me left to break. oh, who would've known?

My wonderfully unhealthy lifestyle

I had the loveliest dinner in a while. I love dinners like that, honest to God.

My body however, will be massively fucked up in the most amazing ways if I lived alone. Which is a bit of a peeve sometimes. I mean, we only get one life, there should be a snippet of time where we're allowed to fuck our bodies up. Of course I say this figuring that once that happens, I'll just go fix it/fix me. I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who functions like this.

If I lived alone-
I'd probably end up working out a lot, sleeping, having lots of smoked salmon and pairing that with moscato or late harvests. But then, I might also still be stuck smoking, unless it affected my working out enough to piss me off. I wouldn't have a telly, because that'd be a waste of space. I'd have too many shoes and I'd have set times to do my laundry.
I think I'd be a little bit crazy, because I'd allow myself to get there, and it'd take a lot more work than it has to be normal but it'd be a story for telling.
My, if I lived alone.


I did yoga at home this evening, and went for a run that was longer than it's been in a while but not nearly long enough as I'd like.

I miss Muay Thai a lot. And I want to go get me a pink yoga mat. Or red, seeing as that's my favourite colour. It's just, pink things are rather cute aren't they?
I'm going to sleep now, so that I can wake up and hang out with my favouritest pony in the wooooorld.
Wallaby Joe makes my mornings worth waking up for!(:

Sharp in take of breath. Cold breath

Everything in small doses, as I've learnt.

I'm obsessive, a mess and honestly want to just sit somewhere and have the space and time to just, be.

I'll run tonight and tomorrow, tomorrow I've got yoga.

I was upset

But just for a little while,
And not at you.

It used to happen a lot see.

And I never did get any better with holding on to tears despite that. It's always been a source of immense frustration, believe me.

I am

Slipping.
And afraid

White or otherwise

Because when you ask questions,
you don't want to think that the answer might be a lie

All that Gatorade

And somewhere between standing in the rain, getting soaked to the skin and falling asleep in large empty fields after midday picnics,
You had me. Even before I knew it.

I suppose it all boils down to belief

Someone I know is getting married today.

This whole marriage thing y'know, it's funny.

But she's waited a while, and I hope she's happy.

And since we're on the note of sappiness and the like,

I read this on tumblr.

I've got my own things to say about it, but um, there are some people I know of who could do with this-

Long-Distance Relationships.

It’s all a test. When you’re apart, it will make you count down the days, look at your calendar, and pray that time goes by faster. When you’re together, it makes you wish time would stop, that not a second you spend with them goes to waste. It’s one of the most painful loves you can go endure. It’s one of the most rewarding loves you can achieve. It’s not for the weak of heart, but for the strong in faith. It will show how much you actually care for a person. And it will open your eyes to never take any and every moment you share with the one you love for granted. It will make you miss them every time they aren’t with you. And sometimes, the distance will break you. But, through everything, that person miles away gives you a goal. They are your reason. Because you know that no one will nearly make you as happy as they can. No matter how far they are, you know in your heart that if you love them, the waiting is worth it. It’s all a test. A test we can pass if we have patience, dedication, and most importantly, love.

by whatswithderek

Be here

Blow on a fallen eyelash,
Jinx you owe me a kiss.
I'll sing you three lullabies,
If you promise me this.

Sweet dreams

I'd do it all again-
Have you fall asleep cuddled up with me, or the other way round, on a rainy day.
Do groceries, eat junk. Heat up soup, cook you noodles that taste like shit. Maybe not the latter, I'll have to fix my cooking.
Give you back rubs, hold your hand.

I'd do it all again, even though I'd been wishing for you long before you'd even left.

Tonight

It was.

I will go to bed now

Slip up

Here's what I couldn't say-
That in that moment, all I wanted to do, was get it right. Something. and I could get this right, I could. Find a sense of normal.

Except my only problem of course, is that it turns out to be wrong.
I'm still grappling with that, to be honest.

We're in different boats in terms of handling what's happened. Anyone can see that.

And for once,
I wish I wasn't alone in this.

--------------------

I've gotten it wrong, I've still gotten it wrong. And now I can't find my right, let alone left and I'm, I'm all wrong now. All wrong.
And no, we're not okay. There is fear that fills the spaces between all the words we're not saying, the words we can't find, the words we won't try to.
We're not okay. Not right now.
Actually, we seem a long way off from it.

Remember?

When everything about me was new.
When I was interesting, fascinating? Yours for the unwrapping, yours to discover.
When you wanted to hear what I wanted to say and what I thought. When you'd hit the space button in the middle of a movie, to say, "Talk to me" because you always read me like a children's book. When I was the person you felt like calling after running into an estranged cousin, in the middle of a rainy afternoon.
When you wanted me.

A character told me yesterday that I intrigued him, that he wanted to talk to me more, and why don't I come sit down for a beer. He stuck a dirty orange-tipped cigarette between his lips, with no intention of lighting it and instead, fidgeted with his white lighter.
I've heard that quite a few times before, that I'm "intriguing". Intriguing, interesting, they're all the same thing after a while. And honestly, the only thing they want to do is get into your knickers. I figured that was the objective he was playing, it had to be.
He catches me by the waist when my back is to him, when I'm trying to walk away, and he asks why I don't want to fuck him.
Because I mean, I suppose that's what most men want to do to things that intrigue them, right?

I wasn't lying when I said no.

What if I told you that I don't care very much for attention unless it's yours? That I don't need to be intriguing to anyone aside from you. That you've got enough of me to break now.

That sometimes, all I want to be is anything and everything you'd ever need or want. That it makes me afraid sometimes.

That I don't know how or when, but I stopped being interesting enough, and started doing everything wrong. Even if I was lashing out in response to things completely separate from what we are. That even then, I could get it wrong.

There'll be other things that you'll find new. And it'll excite you, as new things are bound to. They'll prove interesting and fascinating where I haven't been for a while, I'm sure. They'll be beautiful in all the ways I can only try to be. And maybe they'll get to be what you need, when you need it.

So then, if, and when it's convenient ma chéri, and you want me again, then you could, y'know, maybe, want me again. And I could, maybe, be what you want.

Irreversible

It's a 9minute shot. A 9minute long shot, forcing you to take it all in. Take it all in, and swallow it whole- every second, every breath, every moment that makes you cringe and anticipate where the camera will focus itself on next. Except it doesn't.
And for 9minutes, that's all you're allowed to do- take it all in.

I couldn't find myself today.
That was the problem.

Funnily enough, my day itself was good. I just couldn't find myself in it. And I suppose, for the most part, I was looking.
For me that is.

So yes, tonight served as a trigger, but I'm aware that there's been something pushing at my insides with the weight of ignorance, willing my skin to break. The problem of course, is that I don't know where to start. I never know where to start. I start without knowing that I have and find myself somewhere in the middle, flailing about, waiting for the rest of me to catch up.

I wasn't crying, tonight, I wasn't desperate. I was just looking. And I knew exactly what I was looking for, I just needed to find it.

Where tonight left you, I'm sorry.
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.
I wish it didn't.
There's a numbing ring of familiarity to your words now. I miss a step, and am grabbing blindly now for something I can hold on to.
There isn't anything. But then, that's my fault and I'm fully aware I deserve it.
You need to know though, that you can't be a wrong or right answer. You aren't, you never were. This doesn't change it.
I wish you knew that.
I wish you didn't leave thinking less of me.
I wish I hadn't hurt you.
I wish I could explain this better. I thought I had before. I thought we'd sat in parks talking about this before we had any idea that it might have the ability to hurt more than ourselves, of the two people sitting there in that pavilion that rainy afternoon.

I wasn't trying to hurt anyone tonight.
I was just looking for something I couldn't find. Looking for something tangible, something I could hold on tight to.
I was just trying to get something right, because it's been a while.
I was just.

I couldn't find myself today.
I suppose that was the problem

She always had sought her solace in bottles, in knives, in things that promised-

I'm like that. And I'm sorry.

No, truly, I am sorry.

I know better than anyone how it feels like to be on the other side of the telephone.

I'm sorry that I'm like that.

That the baggage I come with has Insecurity lined in some of the pockets.

That I let it come through sometimes.

That, maybe I don't carry it forth, but everytime you ask me why, I can't say it. I don't know how to. But I can tell you that clips run themselves through my head. Moment, after moment, after moment. And I tell you the gist of it, but don't know how to explain how or why, or that some part of it stays with me. Has stayed with me, since pushing itself into my veins, and making it part of who I am.

Would you like to know how it feels like?

It's numbing. You get used to it. You anticipate it.

The holding you down. The I Love Yous that will feel like knives drawing vertical lines on the inside of your arm. The creak of the door. The sound of a belt buckle clinking.

You get used to it. You know exactly what sound, comes next, which way a body will move, and how excuses will come out- variations of the last one and the one before.

Sure, the roof of your mouth will still feel like sand, and the click of the door as it closes still breathes a laugh into you. But you get used to it. I got used to it.

Then you just wait. For it to happen. For people to feel like they need to give you reasons or excuses or justifications.

I'm not like this. Not always.

And maybe it's that time of the month (I was taught to start giving it more credit), but there are these bits of me. And they surface. I'd much rather they didn't.

I've spent a lifetime fitting into moulds, or at the very least, trying my darnest to.

I can do that. I'll do that for you, if you want me to.

There are some things that I don't know how to pick my way through, I just don't.

You don't have to do this for me; Stay around, y'know?

You don't.

Not when I'm like this; Used up and broken. You don't have to.

Ignorance, she said

If blogspot had a reblog function,
I wouldn't care that where we both stand might make it weird, and that we're not even talking about the same person,
But I'd reblog that girl's words.

Because it sure is the closest thing that makes sense to me right now

I'm guessing someone was listening when I prayed

You're exactly what I need, right when I need you.
And I love you so much for that.

The space

"What do you want from this person?"
"For it; this person or feeling or whatever it is, I want it to stay."

Everytime I'm in the space (the space which transcends time and space itself and everything else), all my issues come bubbling up.

Acting is hardly as much of a performance as it is, essentially, exploration of self.
And of course, the courage to do that. Which not all of us have.

All I need

Is to come home to you at the end of my day. That's all I need, really, to come home to you, cuddle up.
And not say anything

Woes of an Actor

Here's the thing about acting, it requires so much honesty, so much truth
So much, just so much of yourself

And here's another thing-
It's not about how good you are. Well obviously if you're shit and don't know it then we've got a problem. That aside,
It's not about how good you are, it's about whether or not you're what they want/what they're looking for.

Why do actors have such insecurity, people have asked.
Because we spend so much time trying to be what someone else needs us to be. Which is funny when the key thing about acting is being yourself.

The truth is simple- that's a compound lie.

Crippling

Here's the problem with wanting something, wanting something so impossibly much that you're sure it's a need, here's the problem-
When you don't get it, or you can't have it,
It's going to hurt.
And that's what I'm scared of right now.

People say they're "scared" about going for auditions all the time. They say they're scared but most times, their fear is of the performing. Of the presenting to an audience. Of giving a shitty performance.

I think what I'm most afraid of, is what happens if I don't make the cut

Conditional

Love, beauty and oh, all that jazz.

Driving away from the wreck of the day

Highlights

"Oh my God, you two are so cute. You two are the epitome of a cute lesbian couple."
This is what Ethan keeps me up at night, on skype, to tell me.

They'll always find the door in the morning

And my beauty, it's always been conditional.
Always been conditional.

I think I've gotten to a point where I'm not angry or offended, I've become a bit too tired for that.
The problem though, is that it isn't water off a duck's back. I don't have feathers, for one, and definitely not the waterproof sort either. So there are a lot of words that soak through my skin and find their way inside me.
And baby, I've got poison running through my veins.
Poison running through my veins. I have for quite a fair many years now.


And in the glow of orange lamps, or sunlight (or moonlight) that's slipped through curtains, in empty stairwells and quiet parks,
where hands reach in desperate need to lay claim, where every whisper is a promise to break, where teeth sink into flesh so they can call your pain theirs-
I have been called beautiful.
Beautiful, so, so beautiful, they've said.
Leaving fingerprints where you shouldn't and stains that I wanted to burn off my skin. Beautiful, they've said.
But oh, you don't need me to believe you, just like I didn't need you to lie.

My beauty, I've always known, is conditional. Circumstantial.




"He said I had an interesting face. Me and Marilyn Monroe, we have 'interesting' faces. He laid me then, and took some pictures. Then he laid me again. Know what my interesting face was Stephen? Boredom. I kept waiting for him to wake me up."
-- Janice; A Sea Of White Horses. A monologue excerpt.

Never was one for leaning

How is it, that spending time can, at some point, end up turning into a project in itself? One that is used in relation with words like, 'effective' or 'quality' or 'proper'.
It never used to be like that.

I hate where this might end up. I wish I'd never said anything, anything at all.
Because honestly, the more I think about it, (despite already having known this) I realize again, that falling asleep together is just as much spending time as sitting and doing nothing, as drinking coffee and people-watching.
When did we stop having time for all the little things?

I wish I'd never said anything.
Because there were more important things we'd just begun talking about. To which I want to say, "Your break is long overdue hon."

I wish I'd never said anything.
Because it just opened up a can of worms that didn't need opening tonight. Because it's storming outside, and it'd have been nice if you stayed.
Because I didn't mean to, but I ended up adding to the knots in your shoulders.
Because it's something that would've gone away in time.
Because I didn't want to cry tonight.

I think I was needlessly tripping off things that didn't warrant tripping off. And for that I feel like a first class idiot, and I am beyond annoyed and frustrated at myself. And honest to God, right about now has me missing cold metal against skin.

On a separate note-
It looks like a busier-than-usual week for me. And it will end off with something I've been both anticipating and dreading for weeks, months almost.
I haven't gotten to talk about it,
but frankly speaking, I'm scared.
I'm scared and unsure, and yet, I gave up something that came (more or less) with a guarantee to step in this direction.

And, just like it is a problem in most other areas of my life, and a growing one at that, I'm not always prepared to take for myself.


I'll work things out with me. I always do in the end, don't I?

December's invitation

And these Christmas lights,
Wrapped around a potted plant feeling sorry for itself,
Says it's only October

Through the good and the bad and the ugly-

You save me, everyday.

Shackled to shadows

Anyone who says they've recovered from bulimia, or any eating disorder for that matter, who say they're fully recovered, completely and utterly,
Is a liar.

Well. I'd say I've had smarter moments

I need a cigarette.
Need a cigarette.
Need a cigarette right now.
Need a cigarette.

No.
Okay.
Almost there.

This was not the arrival I needed. This was not the sort of thing I needed to come back to after being away.
This was not the sort of evening I would've asked for a picked. Never. Never, never, never.

I currently feel like absolute shit for a couple of reasons. I didn't need just one more thing to tip the balance. I didn't need this.
I want to curl into a ball.

I will never do this again. Never. She can ask, and I will never say no. I'd rather miss out on something that could've been good than risk saying yes to this.

The rest, I will find another time to fix. But goddamn, I will fix it.

It's sunset, on a Tuesday. We're nose to nose.

And you're holding me to you, as the sparkles that jump off the water's surface fades. As the trees listen to the secrets trapped in the breaths we don't breathe. As the street lamps glow and the wood beneath our feet sighs.
As the world falls, falls away.

I love you, I suddenly realize again.
I'm taking a bath, crying over the tail-end of Portia de Rossi's Unbearable Lightness which, before I started it, had me almost afraid to read it. And I was afraid for all the right reasons, but that's another story.

Little things, like catching a glimpse of a sign saying "Thai salad" or passing by caps or shades or getting peeks into snippets of people's lives that make them so happy-
I think about you.
And I realize, I love you and I'm terribly in love with you.
And,
I couldn't have ever dreamed up anyone half as amazing as the person you are.

Before Sunrise

Ephesians 4
v26 Be ye angry, and sin not: let not the sun go down upon your wrath

I wish we were okay.
Like, really, okay.
With no inkling of us being us being.
not

E,

Need you.
Because I want to cry. Because I'm really sad. Because tonight went all wrong, and you always tell me how stupid I am. All the time.

And I know it was my fault. And you'll tell me I was a daft prick too.
But.
I don't know.
You're always there when I'm sitting on my window ledge and crying

34 minutes into the weekend

My eyes are swollen.

I have swollen eyes.

Jesus, that's brilliant. Oh but you know what, I'll get to spend the next five days hiding them behind huge shades anyway. So I guess that's cool.

Well well well, I must say,

what a week this has been!

I found old writings, for one. And found myself, mentally, in not too good a place.

But hey, what the hell, I still ate, didn't (couldn't) run too much because running on Tuesday gave me really bad blisters, AND, like the world wasn't already being difficult, I cancelled Yoga on Wednesday.

Well, okay, I know I went and did that myself because there was something more important, but I looked forward to it for the last week.

I was also really happy about a lot of things this week.

There were a couple of things, and the start of the week that had me fretting a bit, but it turned out okay. Things turned out okay. And for the most part this week, I've been happy as a clam.

Then today.

It started off fine. I swapped tuition to earlier this week because it's the last night before a long weekend away and I'm sappy like that.

I really looked forward to it.

The audition, it was only alright. But I really looked forward to after. Then I think I went and ruined it.

Well, it wasn't altogether ruined, but then, it just sorta ended up getting worse because I don't give the best responses.

And here we are.

No, correction.

Here I am.

There are a couple of things I've realized about myself, having been in my fair share of relationships-

1) I never give the right responses. I'm either being too defensive, or not taking the other person into consideration, or not being right, or something.

2) I don't get over things quick enough. My timings, our timings, they never seem to match up.

Of course, it's an entirely different thing when I face the other, shaking, crumbling, breaking apart at the seams and on the verge of collapse, feeling like I was as good as dead moments ago and he has no idea what I'm talking about. But then, sometimes, people are just like that.

There are a few others.

But, I have to leave for the airport in a couple of hours. Like literally, a couple of hours, and I'm not packed yet.

First World Pains.

My eyes are puffy and I want to curl into a ball and keep crying. Also, I want to sleep.

Also, I must remember to pack my razors.

Well, I must remember a lot of things because I don't actually have anything in my weekend bag. Yet.

OH LOOK.

I just found that I've broken out into rash on my thigh. This is just fantastic. It's perfect.

Happy Friday y'all, hope it's as exciting for everyone else too!

I will spend the next five days in the sun. With Portia De Rossi's Unbearable Lightness. And a Pina Colada.

I tried. I called. I wanted to tell you that I love you. That I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Because I am and I'm not just saying it so we can sweep it under the carpet. I wanted to say goodnight. That I hope your weekend goes fantastic. That I love you. And I'm sorry about how tonight turned out and I'm sorry that I ruined it. I called. BecauseIwantedtotellyouIwantedtohearyourvoiceonthephoneandthatI'dthinkofyouandthatIloveyou.

But mostly, I wanted to tell you that I love you