You are alone.

If only I had thought like this when I was younger!

The Cup of Tears

Drink not to deepen dreams,

 But rather wash away- 

Those drunken maddening screams

 Force my hands to obey, 

Oh wicked, wicked hands- 

They owner thou doth betray; 

In strange and twisted lands 

The sun stands on its head 

Alone, in desolate sands 

The world a blackened, bloody red 

Watching from some distant height 

As heaven halted in her fears 

Alas, I have drunk from the cup of tears

One Day

One day I will live in a house with a writers view.

 I will have a desk by the window, and out the window I will see the ocean breaking on a white sand beach. When the tide is low I will be able to see clear rock pools and my row-boat beached on the sand. 

When the tide is high I will see the waves breaking on the shore and the lonely footprints disappearing into the sea.

 I will hear the waves crashing in the night and the howl of the salty wind in a storm; I will see an angry sea illuminated by lightening across the pulsing sky, and when the night calms and I watch the sun rise over the water, I will see my inspiration.

 This is my writer’s dream, where I can breathe the salt air, listen to the waves and see the raw beauty of nature. Where my words will flow as naturally as the sun rises and my joy will be unmatched. Peace, tranquility and companionship. 

 One day, I will find that house on the edge of the sea.

Pain

There are only two types of pain in this world.

The type that you ignore, shunt away into the darker regions of your mind and try desperately, hysterically, to pretend it isn't there. Concentrate on the stain on the wall, on the sound of a lawnmower at the edge of your hearing, anything to take you mind off it and pretend it isn't there.

Then there is the pain you accept. You revel in it, bask in the white-hot fury of it, feel the liquid fire trickle through your bones and radiate outwards. Instead of ignoring it you concentrate on it, accept it as part of you, as something you cannot change, and instead wait it out, like an old acquaintance that you're too polite to tell to go away, and wait instead for them to leave on their own accord.
You take strength from the pain, but it's a twisted power, it gives you the ability to lash out at others, rather than to help them.
 It is the agony that you spread to others, and it is this pain which is the most dangerous, because anger is so much easier than hurt. 

Goodbye 2011, it's been an interesting year.

This was my year of change, of moving out, going to university, gaining some Independence, living with my boyfriend.

My year of firsts, first serious relationship, first car, first licence, first love, and of many more things.

This year I learned to drive, I discovered cooking, I began to feel like an adult, but I also learned how precious (and fun) being a teenager is, I only have one more year of it so I might as well enjoy it while I can.

Overall, it has been wonderful, full of ups and downs, of anxiety and happiness and stress.

It's been a good year, and I hope I can say the same for the next. (although I hope it doesn't go quite as fast as this one did)

Happy New Year!

Sometimes, for a brief moment walking down the street, I find myself feeling all alone. A silence settles over me, and indeed the whole world; I am walking the earth after the Apocalypse, and I am the only human alive.

There's a sense of giddiness and glee there, I can do anything, go anywhere, and no-one will know, there's no one left to know.

Then a car passes on the road, the faint strains of an unsure pianists fingers reach my ears, a dog barks

And the illusion is shattered.

Late late late at night, all quiet in the house, gone tenpin bowling and found out I wasn't bad as I won the first game. Laughter and fast cars, racing on the motorway and winning, stupid why are we doing this?

Beer, beer, and now i'm alone-champagne to forget my sorrows.

I know everything will be better in the morning, but not right now.

Never right now.

Busy busy busy, back at uni, so many assignments I don't know how I'll get them all done, I've got everything from Xenophon's constitution of Sparta to the autobiography of Frederick Douglass (An american Slave) going round my head.

I feel like I'm learning exponentially, I'm just not sure my brain can keep up with it. Sometimes I think I'm in a time bubble, everything seems static, my life moving so fast and at the same time, no-where at all.

It's a year this month, me and him I mean, so much has changed since this time last year, so very much I know it can never be the same again. Mostly I think it's in a good way, but some things I think I may grow to miss.

Empty empty words. Why am I writing all this? None of it means anything, none of it says anything.

I wish I could write like I used to; sometimes I think Uni sucked all the expression out of me.

The way is shut...it was made by those who are dead, and the dead keep it. The way is shut...

Yesterday I went to the Paths of the Dead, and truly it felt as if the men of Dunharrow were coming out to greet me, the whispers filled my mind until I could think of little else and so clearly it resembled what was in my head..