And then? Part 2

There in a bright room he woke up alone outstretched on a huge bed. Every inch of his mattress was cold except exactly where he lay. He thought of her and got up, still no face. The warmth remained on the mattress like a chalk tracing of a dead body on his bed. That morning his feet were a-tapping and his hand was a-slapping his knee. He could not wait to see her face only to remember that he still loved her.

Later that morning he found her and pretended to be interested in a conversation with someone about so and so. It had been a long weekend. Each hour like a block of Jenga, threatening to topple over. His peripheral vision sharpened from all this indirect contact. Shamelessly he looked at her and although he still loved her he begun to remember her face very clearly now. Closing his eyes he could see everything about her. He could see how her red hair dye seeped down her back after she swam, he could feel her weight and her nails scraping, scratching. He knew she had wanted him to find the benevolent force within himself and steal the words from someone else. "You had me at face", "I've loved your face so long"...

Yes, he would remember the way they begun to unglue as she said, "We need to talk..." or did she say "I have something to tell you...". He could feel the guilt in her voice in the small space of air between them. He could see now how Bart had felt when that new girl ripped out his heart, chucked it against the tree house wall as it slid into the bin, "You won't be needing this anymore." Again he could feel her dimples beneath his thumbs as he wiped away her tears. Now thinking of it over and over, he was only rubbing them into her cold skin.

"I love you. You think I don't but I do." He said it over, and over until she stopped watching the floor and looked through him.

"Show me. Don't tell me." She hugged him as a consolation prize. His jaw tightened. Arms lifelessly hanging beside him. He wanted to hear her cry harder. This was only the beginning of lasts. He fell into this hug a little deeper, found the trap door, lifted it, swung his legs into it, and let go. He could feel her chest heaving against his.

And then? Part 1

He was thinking about her in the afternoon and couldn't remember what her face looked like. He'd think about a photograph he had of her but he could see her body, and her hair, and her smile and exactly where she was looking in the photograph. Although he could not pin point what her face looked like in motion on a regular day. It was as if her face was a scarce area of skin with no shape but an oval. He could reach his fingers into her eye sockets like play-doh and it would slowly return to it's former shape as he took his fingers out, but still no face. Instead of her face appearing another girls would appear instead. He did not know the name of this girl but he knew where this face had come from.

Except this story, it's about this guy and how he can't remember what this girl's face looks like. She wasn't beautiful, no. Although she was remarkable to him. She had that face that would undoubtably welcome wrinkles at an early age. That face that you don't tell your friends you think is sexy but you do think so inside. There are three reasons why you don't tell your friends: 1) You don't want them to have a chance with this girl. 2) You don't want them thinking this person isn't sexy 3) You don't want to ruin your idea of this girl with the judgements of others.

One thing he could remember about her face though, was her bags. The almost purple colour of blood underneath her soft skin.

Here we go ride my pony

I'm here again.

How have you been?

I've got the same hair, the same fingernails clicking on the keyboard, the same tired eyes, the same sore back.

Another sleepless night because of something I shouldn't have left this late to do.

Now I have to write about the history to secure my place in the future.

Cooked a feast of penguins

It tasted pretty crappy.

Lord, child you are unstoppable

To those people who look into the mirror and see beauty stare back please tell me how you can decide that of all the faces of the world yours happened to be beautiful. Tell me how, when beauty is created out of such rare circumstances and that it's almost hard to believe it even exists, you think you were deserving of this. What in you mind goes, "Well yes, I am beautiful" when it's obvious that it isn't an average thing. When it's not a gift for everyone to have, you at some point have decided in your mind that you will have it. Even with people telling you that you are beautiful shouldn't you question it, your beauty. People who have someone close to them die ask why it had to happen to them, why did they have to experience the grief and heartache. For every person that dies there are a handful of people at least who will be mourning them. Around a quarter of a million people die each day on Earth, that's a lot of mourning. That's a lot of people questioning God, Life, The Universe; asking why it had to happen to them. Still there are a lot of people who will look at themselves and decide that they are beautiful and not even think to ask why.

Let me eat you pah-leeaaaze

I've just stumbled on Charaben which is the japanese word for Character bento, basically food shaped into non-food related things. It's so sick and cute! Except I would never want to eat it, only walk around and be all "everybody looooook how cute my lunch is" with a grin on this big :D or to be asian it'd be like this xD.

As if cherry tomatoes aren't good enough, this ones got a crown

Yes we can! (Eat you!)

And I don't think this comes under Charaben but it is food that doesn't look like food.

I can't tell you

Everybody is a

writer

or an actor

or a photographer

or a dancer

or a singer

or some kind of diamond in the rough of Perth.

Three questions for UWA

1) Why do you smell gross? In particular of microwaved food and sweat. You have so many variants of odour and each of them bad.

2) Why does almost everyone of your doors say "EMERGENCY EXIT ONLY" or "DOOR TO NEVER BE UNLOCKED" yet you happily allow people to walk through them as though nothing is the matter?

3) Why didn't you tell me open day was for couples only? I would rather of not gone than experienced the shame I felt today.

"You're not well, are you Missy"

I have this sickness. It's like being love sick except I'm school sick. I made the terrible mistake of being too ill for school on Monday and because I hadn't been to school the day before the thought of school on Tuesday was just too much to bare. By Wednesday I figured I'd used up all my sick leave plausible and made the treacherous trek through a school day but Thursday (today) morning saw me slam my foot in the car door at 5.45 am and then later be drenched by the rain and so i figured I'd be better off at home than wearing wet underwear and limping around at school.

Did you catch that? I said I slammed my foot in the car door. That fucking hurts. Like alot. You know I thought I was over this. I have slammed my finger in the car door 6 times! 5 times on my left hand and then one lucky time on my right hand. I mean proper slammed, like mangled blue finger bleeding and I'd have to wear this special finger splint thing which I became very used to. It got to a point where one time I just casually called out "Yeah, I just slammed my finger in the door, can someone help me" And no one did, my brother thought i was just joking.

I guess I'm just prone to those kinds of things. I've also been stung by a bee 7 times, by a wasp once and hornet once. Let me tell you wasps hurt most. The rest don't really hurt so I'd probably take a sting for you if you were allergic or something but lately I start to swell up when I get stung by bees, especially when I get stung on the foot. I'm sure you've all seen the Notorious photos of my swollen foot or do I dare say I'll post them in the never arriving collection of mobile uploads. I figured it was just a foot thing since they get moved heaps and the blood always sinks down there but one time i got stung on the leg and my thigh got really swollen, "nooo Dirtbag, that was just during the winter months and you got faaaaaat".

yes feet, ah that reminds me, my foot is presently bruised and a little swollen but because of it I left school at recess time and had Tan Po Po for lunch, watched Foster's home for imaginary friends, went to the hairdressers, tidied my room (suddenly my new favourite pass time, oh my god what's happening to me!) and that's about it. I watched a lot of cartoons.

Yes well you know how they say school's almost over, well they say it for a reason mainly because school is almost over but still i don't see myself responding to this finish line call. I'm going down hill. I'm getting increasingly tired, I'm doing less and less work and my lit essay is coming on three weeks late (I think, I don't really have any idea of it's actually due date). I lack motivation I guess. I'm just school sick.

Ya know what I mean?

If people weren't so obsessed with the concept of a picture tells a thousand words then perhaps they'd bother to read more than a thousand words...

Infinite

cheesus christ show mercy on those in the valley

Does anybody else ever find that even the best of crackers sometimes taste like ants or am I just really quirky?

Your Arms Around Me

In the microwave's door dead set infront of my face I don't see me slip.
My hands linger in the water after I've let the knife fall. They were slow to enter and slow to release. I see red spiral fumes dance and twirl. I look down and see you're right. Then gone is my hand. My arm. It's all very subtle. Everything spreads outwards like stars in the ever expanding universe and I'm left looking at the bloodied sink. All bloody now. The red sea. I smile. Somehow the red turns to darkness. Not blue, not black. Darkness. And even when I'm awake I don't notice myself slip.

You're beautiful, like a May fly

Anger walks down the verges. There's no footpath on her side of the street but she prefers it to having headlights expose her. That's where all the other teenagers stand. In the light. Squinting eyes. Red eyes. Drunk and tumbling.
Continuously walking past groups of people, this had been a very large party, one throws out a live one, just.
"Hey, you alright? you look so angry." She bends an arm around his back and keeps him from falling. Now she pushes her palm against his chest to support him. "I hate this. I just want to go home." she says.
"Come home with me. My mum is coming soon. I just called her. she should be here soon."
Soon came and went and she still hadn't come. Unbeknown to the two of them, sitting on the curb of Eternity Street, he'd never made the call. All this time, time that had passed: time leading up to, time that was and time after soon, the two sat in silence.
In present time, time after soon, Anger blinks to swallow her tears. She can taste the uncomfortable saltiness of suppression. He bobbles his head, playing with the draw strings of his jacket.
He is looking at her but she's too concerned with across the road. She tries to draw shut her long, silky however thin hair as curtains to cover a girl under the influence's underwear.
"You know I'd like you if you weren't so full of yourself. If you didn't go everywhere thinking you were so beautiful"
"what?" The girl under the influence has now slipped her spindly arms under a boy's shirt for warmth. Later she'll be under him. Then of course they'll go back to his place and be under covers. "I don't understand what you're on about. As if you think that? As if you think I think that?"
"yeah, you totally do. I mean you are beautiful, but you just totally know it."
"shut up, you're so annoying. I'm not beautiful. I'm not even close." Anger was being sincere. She thought of herself as ugly. She didn't have self-esteem problems. She was truthful and realistic and not complicated. It was true, Anger wasn't beautiful. She wasn't even close.
"sure, sure"
"what the fuck, I don't understand this. I don't care that I'm unattractive, I can accept it, whatever."
"I don't believe you. You got so much confidence because you're beautiful and you know it"
"If you think I've got confidence it's because I don't care what I look like. I am just not bothered!"
"nup nup, I don't believe you."
"you know what, you're so wrong about everything. I know you. What you think about everything is wrong. It's fucked. When I was younger and had a crush on you I was waiting for the day that you'd grow tall. Now I'm waiting for the day you grow up".

Anger stands up and walks down to the end of the street. Before she even thinks of where to walk next a car pulls up with it's window down. Delirious' father offers her a lift home. She climbs in from the left side of the car to the backseat next to Righteous.

Delirious' father starts to drive off. Delirious looks back from the passenger seat at Anger and Righteous and then the driver turns to face his daughter. In his peripherals he sees the others. A thorn between two roses he thinks. He looks back out at the road and continues to drive.

Afro's with flowers attached to them are cool

Going on someones computer when they're not around to write down what blogs that person reads is not cool. It's like rape. Also not cool.