May 2012
11 posts
2 tags
she is crying
on the phone
to her mother
i don’t think i will ever understand that
who does that
so strange
to cry
to your mother
2 tags
13# Arlington Park - Rachel Cusk
Anonymous asked: Everything is possible with books.
2 tags
Arlington Park - Rachel Cusk
1 tag
i seem to be stuck in a frozen state of collapse
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12# Alias Grace - Margaret Atwood
1 tag
11# The prime of Miss Jean Brodie
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reflection of me
there were two of us in this dream me and me and people dressed in costume they only saw me but i saw you watching hearing what i say you frown inwards grimace at my words
the costume people never know
1 tag
long days badly spent
the crowded warmth of the library soon dispersed leaving an akwardly frosty feel three or four people hunched over and unapproachable perfect seclusion voluntary - with reason
1 tag
10# In The Cellar - Jan Philipp Reemtsma
April 2012
11 posts
3 tags
9# Looking for Alaska
1 tag
8# The private lives of Pippa Lee
the tiny bits of genesis slip out
sly, masked and underappreciated
and they stick, coat your mind
slowly seeping through
but still making as much sense as they did
when you first read them
Anonymous asked: “Why would i voluntarily, remove the one thing that stops me from being bored to death with you’re stupid standards and expectations. The same way i don’t want to voluntarily communicate with you half evolved monkeys” do you believe in evolution?
2 tags
7# The Ask And The Answer
The curtain always stayed open a bit. The light from her room would tumble out into the dark, the light was never turned off at night. She was scared off the dark, Was. They left it on in her memory. I think its silly. I think she would have too.
Anonymous asked: What's hidden behind your back?
“That is part of the beauty of all literature. You discover that your longings...”
– F. Scott Fitzgerald (via sangueblu)
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the packet the plastic the tiny twisty things the time it takes to impatiently unwrap you finding everything out taking it to the extreme no fear of breaking the gift we momentarily adore you, our shiny new toy
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dreams polluted hearing words you will never say noticed movements happened or not slight touch nod and smile blind ignorance furrowed brow ignore prevail the loneliness persists
March 2012
43 posts
1 tag
old emails
they make no sense
in orders that are lost and forgotten
broken scrambled words
hidden secrets, jokes and meanings
then the sad ones
they make you cry
remembering what you hid and shared with the world
how you tried to be brave
and how they tried to help
old emails
you cannot delete
Anonymous asked: So if you knew you were going to die in exactly a week, you wouldn't be scared? You wouldn't despair?
1 tag
6# The Knife Of Never Letting Go
3 tags
People: Girl on the bus
She had fallen asleep, head resting on the window.
Her eyeliner smudged and disappearing.
The rims of her lips bore the last ruminants of a harsh red lipstick.
Faded jeans and old car boot bag.
I like to watch you live.
Empty city heart
Banned and secret
2 tags
My attempt to read 50 books in 2012:
1# The Catcher in the Rye. - J.D Salinger
2# In Cold Blood - Truman Capote
3# The Fault In Our Stars - John Green
4# The book of reverlation - Rupert Thomson
5# The Hunger Games - Suzanne Collins
2 tags
You bore me.
Your voice is a continuous
Monotonous drone
You bore me.
The skin on her left wrist was red and bruised. She held her arm awkwardly near her chest, as though it was supported by some invisible sling. She walked briskly down the path breathing out a thin white mist.
There was blood on his face, close to being dry. He lifted a tissue halfheartedly and wiped it across his cheek. Leaving a red smudge along his skin.
1 tag
Drinking coffee,
seated opposite,
an empty chair,
in a cafe that’s not fashionable anymore.
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I have this burning desire to throw away finished notebooks.
To edit and remove my external memories.
Rid myself of parts of my past.
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Within the mess of paper and books,
lay,
huddled and curled in a ball the little lost girl.
Hiding here all along.
Waiting for us to come.
Our backs against the cold city wall
We gaze at the red morning sky
The blindingly white fields had been trampled on by the ungraceful steps of a thousand girls.
2 tags
We are so small. Someone elses play things.
Hanadi : Lets live on the ourskirts of london and hold extravagant, fortnightly parties like Gatsby, hoping that what we desire will wonder in one day.
she seemed to enjoy playing family
even if it was a dysfunctional one
that she wasn’t really part of
she rarely had coffee
but instead ordered cup after cup of tea
pouring way too much sugar in
saving all the empty packets
it isn’t that i don’t speak to you
you just stopped wanting your friends to see me
why does your touch burn
leaving deep purple marks
all along my arm
dotted up my back
silent things hidden
behind a calm quiet face
His smile was large, odd but charming.
It changed him.
And then it vanished and back he went.
Anonymous asked: Let it out.
This is extremely frustrating.
3 tags
I wrote a sad bit of a story i am working on. Now i don’t want to write any more because to create these people, to make them happy, to give them lives and memories and feelings, love and friendship; then for that to happen. Well that’s just too heartbreaking.
Why must characters feel human and make you cry? Why do i become so close to them?
Anonymous asked: Boy do I like your attitude, keep it up girl. They'll have to get used to it in the long run anyway.
Anonymous asked: Your parents don't like you writing?