riveted

nay

 pathetic how I'm dying to be told I make somebody happy

I've been prodding my ulcer with my tongue for days now. It hurts like hell but I can't help myself. I think we humans are all self-mutilating creatures like that. We beg to be hurt. We want to be damaged and broken so we can whine about it to the next person who seems to care before we get hurt by them again. Vicious cycle, I welcome you with open arms. 

Apart from overindulging in self-deprecation, I've been spending a lot of time having internal monologues with myself as to why I am feeling such unadulterated fatigue and loathing towards everything. I find myself completely drained and heading to bed before 12, and considering I have yet to complete my assignments it is an unthinkable option and time for a JC student. It is in bed where I lay just running through the most minuscule and redundant of anxieties and details in my mind - which has been the perfect playground for doubts and negativity and darkness to fester. 

Maybe this is me sucking at handling my stress, maybe this is me sucking at balancing my time, maybe it is the time of the month and excessive estrogen is getting me cranky, maybe this is my loneliness manifesting, maybe it's all in my head.

It probably is and I am once again dramatizing every single thing that is meant to be kept simple; peripheral. 

I just cannot help but wonder what I'm doing wrong.

I want to get new ink so desperately but I know this cannot be a reckless, misinformed lapse in judgement because unlike everything else, it will be permanent. 

Like all good fruit the balance of life is in the ripe and ruin. Somewhere, someday.

Got a follow from this band, checked them out and fell in love very alarmingly quickly.

girl crush

sew me good

Just close your eyes

and count to five

let's craft the only thing we know into surprise

set down your glass

I painted this

to look like you and me forever as we're now

I'm shaken then I'm stirred

when your eyes meet mine

I lose simple skills

like to tell you all I want;

is now

you sing, and I'm killed

I'm just not the same

as I was a year ago and each minute 

since then

my jumper tears

as we take it off

you say you'll sew me good as new and

I know you will

Issues

Did a fair bit of walking today. Always see instances like these as opportunities to air out more intimate thoughts. I'm not ready, I decide. The worst thing you can do is jump into something without the necessary prerequisites, applies for academic choices as it does for affairs of the heart. I question my ability to love anyone, explore his entity, disgustingly ironic seeing how desperate I am sometimes for someone to do the same. For the destructive interferences of our quirks and habits; souls. I struggle enough to love myself. These things will have to wait but yet I prophesy myself foolishly taking yet another leap of faith because loneliness always triumphs.

prolific

this will not be about love
why should it be?
when it is only dignified by the hearts in its wake
dignity that is questionable when the mind is sound
but tossed aside in wanton abandon 
when sensory and emotional overload
muddle conscious thought
I shall talk about me instead
not the the vital organ;
the silent killer
the size of a hand-grenade
damage akin; ready to implode under your skin
how I swore to turn a blind eye; a deaf ear
an ear weathered down by empty phrases
to teach it the art of imperative non-commitance 
as soon as glasses clinked and lips puckered
to usher in another 365 days to 
ostentatiously promise to promise
and make resolutions only to
break them a few days into the new year

I am acutely aware of my inadequacy
but my dependency on the wrong breed
on their hypnotic incantations
are blindingly obvious
to everyone but me
more often than not the bats in the belfry
pick at my scabs and drink from
the salty pools that collect in my ears
I cry as much as any ordinary person
maybe even less
but nothing chokes as bad as the 
onset of tears that will not give 
the honor of falling



This song has yet to make its exit out of my head and heart since Natasha Khan sang it mere metres away from me last Saturday at St. Jerome's Laneway Festival 2013. It was a day I cannot fathom into words, and I thank Jesus and St. Jerome whoever he is for granting me such an incredible experience. I am currently lacking severely in the adjectival department so 'incredible' is the best word I can think of. I fulfilled one of my lifelong dreams of watching Alt-J live and despite the technical error that rudely interrupted Joe Newman before he could sing 'My heart still thumps as I bleed", it was earth-shattering to be in their presence, grooving to the songs I've had on loop since I got into them.

Like all good fruit the balance of life is in the ripe and ruin, words that I think deserve to be etched permanently on my skin.

Not forgetting Kings of Convenience, Polica, Of Monsters and Men(who were ridiculously fun to sing along to) and Yeasayer. Despite my burnt back in dire need of the careful ministrations of a gentle hand and aloe vera gel, I look back at those 12 hours with immense fondness.

Nursing a very angry pus-filled ulcer near the web of my tongue and I feel an onslaught of sore throat, flu and the works impending. I am worsening my circumstance by eating biscuits and crackers and granola, as well as probing the little nub with my tongue every 3 seconds, but I am kind of reveling in the pain and finding myself wanting to fall sick so I can sleep the entire day or just waste away without a twinge of guilt. And I would love that.

little talks

I covered OMAM's Little Talks only because I am shameless and bored and not afraid to flaunt my lousy voice