Wednesday, February 29, 2012

The second time we went out

It doesn't feel like too long ago, that I passed here with you-
Past midnight, after a drink that went well with the live music and, not entirely sure how we were gonna do it but, walking in the general direction of home.
We were marching about, looking stupid at, what, two in the morning? And laughing at ourselves; Me in my six inch heels, and you in your skate shoes-
both those pairs of shoes which have since been laid to rest.
My, has it really been that long because I-

Now I'm passing this place, on the bus back to you, where you're busy cooking dinner right about now. And I get to put down my things and ask how I can help. I get to bring back dessert to go with dinner and sit on the couch with you.
I get to hear you rant about your day, and rant to you about mine.

And mostly, I get to tell you I love you just before I fall asleep.

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Reaching for holidays

This is what it feels like-
Like I'm always rushing to do nothing. To find a five minute gap I can say I deserve.

I'm grateful for what I have on the outside, because it's a little bit of something I get to hold on to.
And then, sometimes, I feel like stealing away to a dark corner for a couple of months.

Saturday, February 25, 2012


A car needs to come and hit me now

Friday, February 24, 2012

Fear tastes like the iron in blood you're not drawing from yourself

"Oh yes, yes I know. And you know, you just gotta let go."
No, I want to say, no you don't know. I'm trying with all that I am and I'm not using this as any kind of excuse, but you don't know.
And to continually come at me, even after, with the full force that your ignorance is weighed with-
No, it's not your fault. You don't know, and that's okay. But it just got more difficult when you wanted to insist on your advice that clearly wasn't pushing me into a place I was comfortable in.

"Okay guys, no matter what, you have to go in now-"
"Okay, okay we're just-"
"No." She says, and her voice is quiet but so, so firm. "No, sometimes we just can't. We are not machines. And I have heard something that just, that just goes beyond all of any of this. So."
And in that instance, I am so grateful, so grateful for her.

"Hey, so how're you? Y'know with-"
"Yeh well, c'est la vie right?"
"It'll pass man, it'll pass."
Yeah, I think. What doesn't, after all? And that's what I did too-
I lay there, and just waited for it to pass.

I always do, don't I?


Haven't been out like this in a long, long while- and to a large extent, I wish I'd used this time to claim my much needed sleep. But then again, there are hardly days like this, and I stayed for all the good songs,
And one of my best friends won't be around for a while.
Plus, I'm sober as a rock, smoke-free and my driver's going at 140 on the freeway.

If you ask me, I think it was worth it.

Monday, February 20, 2012

If walls could talk


They would see me in your arms in ecstasy.

Chasing Pavements

This morning, as I do some mornings, I wake with a thought nestled somewhere in the blurry, sleepy haze in my head.
Well to be honest, I wake up every single morning with that thought there, some mornings it is just more present than it is absent- but all the same it is there.

And this morning it is there again; like a curled up, dozy cat, watching me as I move about my room in a flurry, shoving non-fat yoghurt with flaxseeds and banana slices into my mouth, timing it so I can chew as I yank on my pants and dab concealer on my face. She is patient and knows full well that I am, at least somewhat, aware of her presence. Sometimes she yawns, widening her eyes and staring in my direction, head tilted, as I slow down for two extra seconds daring myself to catch a breath.

She is the thought that this is, maybe, wrong.
It isn't self-doubt, it isn't thinking that I won't make it; because I know, to be completely honest, that even if it means grinding my teeth to nothing and bleeding myself dry, I will put myself through this if I really, really want to.
She is an idea made up of the knowledge that my life is on suspension, that there is a world I am actively turning away from for this, that some mornings I wake and want to curl back up.
And most times, I quieten her with the knowing that when this is done, I will be better for it. That everyday I learn things that I put to use and am, in fact, putting to use right now in rehearsals or auditions outside of my school life.

But some days, like today, I wake up tired. And I am tired of feeling the way I do- like it's not easier to pick myself up and scurry off to school, like maybe I'm just the sort who can't function within a structure like this. Like I have always, always chosen to be the person who picks what makes you happy. And even though I know I will be happy in the long run, after all this, after taking and soaking up and keeping, I can't look you in the eye right now and tell you that this makes me happy.
Because believe it or not, actors are not liars.

I've made up my mind, don't need to think it over
If I'm wrong I am right, don't need to look no further
This ain't lust, I know this is love

But if I tell the world, I'll never say enough
'Cause it was not said to you
And that's exactly what I need to do if I'd end up with you

Should I give up or should I just keep chasing pavements
Even if it leads nowhere?
Or would it be a waste even if I knew my place
Should I leave it there?
Should I give up or should I just keep chasing pavements
Even if it leads nowhere?

I build myself up and fly around in circles
Wait then as my heart drops and my back begins to tingle
Finally could this be it?

Should I give up or should I just keep chasing pavements
Even if it leads nowhere?
Or would it be a waste even if I knew my place
Should I leave it there?
Should I give up or should I just keep chasing pavements
Even if it leads nowhere?

Should I give up or should I just keep chasing pavements
Even if it leads nowhere?
Or would it be a waste even if I knew my place
Should I leave it there?
Should I give up or should I just keep on chasing pavements
Should I just keep on chasing pavements?

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Conversations at home

"Baby, you should be coming home to me like this every monday night."
"I should be coming home to you like this every night, period."

And you know, you'd be so worth this wait(:

Saturday, February 11, 2012

Figure it out

She'll love you when you're beautiful

Friday, February 10, 2012

The soles of my feet

Are all worn out,
I'm tired of fighting a fight we didn't even mean
to start. I say, it comes with.
That you're not wrong, that
It's no one's fault at all except maybe

For stars, if they'd like to fall this way

I wish it were easier to tell you just how much I miss you

Thursday, February 9, 2012

Why do people talk, if it just feels like they're talking at each other?

Sometimes it feels like we're still new-
Like I don't know where I stand, or what you think, or what you're thinking and if I'm thinking too much.
Sometimes it feels like we're still green-
Because there aren't feelings that have tired themselves out yet; the feeling of being disconnected, out of touch, out of sync. But of course, also the simpler feelings- like missing you, like comfort, like contentment.

The uncertainty, the wondering, the time spent wondering, that comes with being new, it isn't always a good thing though is it?
Why is it that sometimes things just absolutely need to have the chance to hurl themselves at you all at once?

Because this isn't supposed to be so painful.
Or this difficult. Or hurt like this.
And school was supposed to be more than enough reason to feel like I'm broken, like I'm breaking, like I'm alone while falling apart and falling apart while I'm alone.
And the dark little boxes I had for hiding, I gave them space for two, I did.
So this, this wasn't supposed to feel like this. It wasn't supposed to hurt this bad.

And tonight, oh tonight, I wasn't supposed to be such an absolute mess.

Thursdays that aren't half days anymore

If you wanted to know-
Half of today was lovely, and half of it was horrifying.
Both halves overlap at some point, so there's an excess bit of today that was okay. Of course, all before half past six this evening.
The horrifying bits were painful (in a I've-been-hit-in-the-face-with-realization- kinda way), were stretched, were absurd. The lovely only came with half of the horrifying bits.

One of the open boxes (funny how I've only just realized there was more than one) was anger.
There's a difference between drama and drama in psychology though-
Here, we're merely opening boxes to access those feelings.

But if you're asking me about today, I'd tell you it was okay.
It was.


I'm looking forward to Hatha Yoga on Saturday.
And if I can run today or tomorrow or Saturday or Sunday or all of the above or a combination of some days and not others, I will be very happy.

On a random note, even though for a split second I found myself missing living on my own for a bit and coming home after work, I am impossibly upset that mommy's going out of town.
That's one too many thinks to cry about, need the universe to cut me some slack.

And stop playing with knives


I broke today, in front of an audience. That wasn't really part of the plan and I guess I didn't have my Game-Face fitted on properly.

There isn't a psychology behind it, no analytical, calculated reason.
"Listen to what your body wants to say today. Just, listen."
And my body felt like being a ball, and curling up, and seeking comfort.

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

And maybe she'll love her in the morning, when the night's done its work and burnt stains off her skin.
When her hair doesn't smell of tomorrow's sin.
Maybe she'll love her in the morning,
When the lipstick stain on the wineglass isn't so red,
When her body isn't so sad.

Maybe, you'll
love her in the morning-

How come even on the loveliest days, I still end up crying?

"I love you,"
"I don't know that." He'd said


There are some words you shouldn't say, because emotions lie nestled inside another and feeling one thing always opens up to feeling another, to feeling another.
There are some hurts you shouldn't speak of. Because it's easier to get the bottle of alcohol yourself, bite your arm and disinfect the wound than speak of it and only wish you hadn't.

And maybe there are some stories you weren't meant to tell, trials you weren't meant to speak of, cuts you're meant to pull your sleeves over.
Because empathy is a lot easier to find than the person you're looking for.

Monday, February 6, 2012

Sunday, February 5, 2012

The number you have dialed is not in use, please try again later.

This is wrong, it's all wrong.
We're not meant to be like this, standing on roadsides watching cars run past like they've got lives while you scuff your sneakers in the sand and try to tell yourself you're not crying.
Because I'm not supposed to be crying; Not for the time I don't have, and the conversations I can't hear and the red tints of dawn that I always miss because I'm still on the train for two and a half minutes too long.

I'm not supposed to feel so broken while doing something that has always held me together, I'm not supposed feel like I can't catch up with myself. Because how long is it going to be before I finally can, and when I do, I'd rather punch myself in the nose because I think I'd need a little bit of physical brokenness to understand the sharp edges of the pieces inside me.

If my life is only on suspension, why does it feel like I need to be expelled?
Why do my fingers know better how and what to say while my lips bite down on themselves lying, breaking, bleeding?
Sometimes I feel like I cannot do this.
I can't look at clocks and keep crying, can't look at people and keep counting, counting, counting-
The places they hold tension in as they speak, the times the corner of their left eye twitches when they're fibbing, how many hours I have left to be here with them, how many hours I have left to sleep, to wake, to sit through until I can go back to staring at a clock and will the hands to move slower, how many minutes faster I took for my run, how many minutes I have left to get to class, how many calories before I remember what a bad habit it is to count them.
To count at all.
And if math was never my best subject, I shouldn't be starting now.

If the number I've dialed isn't in use, I don't see why I should try again later. Because if it isn't anymore, then I don't think anyone's coming back to it.
And maybe I'm not coming back to me, maybe I won't, maybe I never will.
And I am afraid of that because I never understood the concept of denying yourself. Except it's all that's being asked of us now.
But to of course, embrace the fact that you can't learn to fly before you've got wings
What am I supposed to do, really?

How long is this going to happen for,
because I'm not meant to be standing by roadsides watching cars run past like they've got lives while I scuff my sneakers in the sand and try to tell myself I'm not crying.

There are parts of me that are missing

Tonight, my hair smells the way it did in Perth. And I'm wearing the jammies that I did over there.
My body soap reminds me of LA- even though the most recent times I've gone back, I haven't used body soap that smelt like this.

Sometimes, and a lot more recently to be honest, I figure I could do this. I could stay.
Because you love your work and I love your work and I love that you love your work. And because, to be honest, it'd be easy for me to work here. And I could. And I love my work, and I love working here.
But mostly because home is exactly where you are.

Then sometimes I find myself missing these places. These places I've felt so at home in, so comfortable in. Places where I've felt it okay to be me. Where I've walked streets and felt like there couldn't possibly be anything more at home, than feeling my footfalls against this concrete pavement. On nights like tonight, I watch the rising steam fall against the rest of the bathroom as I towel myself and find myself half expecting, half wishing, that it'll be too cold when I step out.

It would make sense here, it would. It would be easy, relatively easier in comparison.
But then, what about all those times I feel like staring out windows and missing all these places so much? Because aside from how the air seems to rest itself just nicely on my skin when I'm there, there's my family, and I miss them too.
And I know I don't have to decide just yet, but it's just been something on my mind.

On nights like tonight, I miss being home with you, that's for sure. But I also find myself missing feeling like I'm home.

Thursday, February 2, 2012

We can make the night last forever

Let's you and me go home, go run away.
Go somewhere we can be


It's conversations like last night's that I am immensely grateful for-
That I can have them at all, let alone with someone I am so close to.

That there are parallels that are drawn, and a different perspective to what may or may not work for me without putting me in a box. That I am given a take so full and rich but also coloured in and shaded with truth and often times, personal opinion. I think in general I am grateful for all round support from my family and such but last night in particular.

So, for last night, Thank you Erika-
For being an amazing support and my devil's advocate all at the same time. You're all the world to me(:

It's taken me three weeks to fully arrive, and four and a half to be more honest with myself about where I stand and what I might feel.
I think the truth of it will always scare me. Or the possibility of it being truth at least.
The notion that this frame, this setting, might not work for me.
That being said I don't want to just end up being a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Once one is decided- there's no changing it. So if, for instance, I say, "I can't do this, this isn't my thing." Then I won't be able to do this.
I will fully acknowledge the immense difficulties on various levels of course. And I will fight for time for myself, and fight wholeheartedly for the need to be and to not get lost or run away from myself.
But I'm not going to write myself off or throw in the towel.

I'm going to give this a shot, and more importantly, I'm going to give myself a shot. Even if it feels like I'm clawing at chalkboards.
I deserve to say, "At least I tried."