life taught me how to die.

a single sentence. a line in a song, falling from the lips of an irish boy strumming on a borrowed guitar. his admirers, hanging on his every word, every note, eager for more. he knows he has charm, he knows with a single wink he can have them begging for his attention, addicted in seconds. and he knows he can have his fun, give them the time of their lives, then leave a trail of destruction and despair in his wake. he doesn't care. all he wants is entertainment, a good time, and no-one will deny him what he does best.

i've seen it before. i see it all the time. it makes me so ... sad. am i the only one who sees? can i do nothing to stop it? why does no-one else do anything? why do they get away with it every time? why is it so accepted?

why?

dancing in circles, wheels spinning, arms flying, voices screaming.
i look up to the ceiling. lights, people, music reflected in the glass against the dark sky. chaos surrounds me, the pain is flooding through my veins, i can't breathe. and yet, i am calm inside. the six words suddenly spring to mind, for reasons im unsure of, and they won't disappear. they're etched on the walls of my mind. i've been waiting for them. in so many ways, they make sense, but every time i grasp a meaning that i can relate to, its slips away.

the lake. the wheels. the friendships. the unforgettable moments that make life worth living. an escape for a weekend was all i had to do, all i needed to find the right words and find myself again.

but you can't escape everything.
the irish boy never sleeps, and neither does his guitar.

a tangible link.

i never quite remember how beautiful it is here until i'm actually sitting with the single tree behind me and the vast expanse of field stretching out before me. the thick mist that shielded the trees in the distance is slowly clearing, leaving behind a layer of glistening dew on the tips of the grass. usually you can lie on the ground and be hidden from sight amongst the tall stems that brush your fingertips as you walk, but the grass has been cut.

i am exposed.
a feeling that i'm having to become accustomed to.

the sky is a clear blue above me, as it always is, with clouds circling around this point like the eye of a storm. there's something so precious about this place. a piece of pure serenity within the chaos of everyday routine. i'm reminded of this only by the sound of traffic just over the hill. but i can't see it; therefore it doesn't matter here.

time seems to stop still. its almost enough to forget why i came here.

i don't think i've ever come here to deal with things, simply to escape them for a while. maybe i should. instead, i prefer to dwell on memories. back then, when i first laid on eyes on the beauty of this place, everything was just so ... innocent. would i want to return to my past? a few hours ago i would've answered without hesitation, but now i'm not so sure.

the mist has completely disappeared now. colours are suddenly defined. the sunlight is finally streaming through, casting shadows across the ground.

the pain never fully goes here. however the calming atmosphere does its best to soothe the agony to a dull ache. i can breathe here.

the cool breeze slows down the pace of life that i have no control over. in an instant i can be transported to my swing, my haven.

the only way i can describe this field: it is the only accessible alternative i have to make up for the one place i truly feel safe. i sometimes forget that my swing is a real destination; waiting for me to return properly instead of flitting to and fro in my dreams. in a sense, this field is my only tangible link, reminding me that that there is such a place that i can call mine.

i don't like to think that i need someone here, but occasionally it doesn't feel quite right without a certain presence next to me. i can remember clearly the last time we were here, in this exact spot. if i had to name one, the best day of my life so far. nothing went wrong, no-one could touch us. i'd never been happier, more content. even as we left, arms wrapped around me, we stopped every so often and looked back at the setting amber sun. no-one could touch us.

i wonder if she remembers it like i do. i wonder if she even remembers at all.
although this place is beautiful, it is the memories that make it so precious.

but are memories really worth hanging on to? do we have a choice?

blameless.

when did a casual embrace at the end of the day
become a shove in the chest down a flight of stairs?

i must've missed it when everything changed.

my movements, my life, all measured by the intensity of pain.
no-one is to blame, but who can blame me for wanting to know the source of my agony?

something is trying to break free inside me
i'm hiding from someone, to my cost
i'm denying the world my true identity
maybe He's attempting to talk to me
my heart is being crushed continuously with every disappointment
i'm trapped within myself, against my will
lost in a circumstance i don't understand
afraid of what my world will think
a shield from the worst
an influence from others
an escape
a cage
a punishment for my many sins
a beating bass rhythm resisting the melody
a raging, internal fire
a thirst never quenched
lungs bursting, sides splitting
yet the race has many miles to go
lying in a ditch, the cold air piercing my skin
bite marks, deep and bloody, sinking through muscle and bone
a constant echo in my head, again and again and again and again and again

i just wish i knew what it was.

florence ...

if you could only see
the beast you made of me
i held in
but now it seems you set it running free
screaming in the dark
i howl when we're apart
drag my teeth across your chest to taste your beating heart
my fingers claw your skin
try to tear my way in
you are the moon that breaks at night for when i have to

howl ...

now there's no holding back
i'm making to attack
my blood is stinging with your voice
i want to pour it all
the saints can't help me now
the ropes have been unbound
i hunt for you with bloody feet across the hallowed ground
like some child possesed
the beast howls in my veins
i want to find you, tear out all your tenderness

howl ...

be careful of the curse
that falls on young lovers
start so soft and sweet
then turns them to hunters

hunters
hunted

the fabric of your flesh
pure as a wedding dress
until i wrap myself inside your arms i cannot rest
the saints can't help me now
the ropes have been unbound
i hunt for you with bloody feet across the hallowed ground.

shattered glass.

i cried. for the first time that i can remember, i cried.
i cried my fucking heart out.
bleeding emotion, until completely void of feelings and senses failed me. the immense pain in my chest was too much, and i couldn't control it anymore. it had taken me hours to discover that the fear of falling was greater than the fear of hitting the bottom.

i didn't expect it to hurt that much. it didn't make me feel better afterwards like she said it would. i came so close to allowing real blood to entwine with tears, it felt like the blade was already slicing through skin before i'd picked the handle up. i can still feel it now. but once again, like many times before, she stopped me. for a moment, i hated her for her power over me. i wanted her to let go, needed her to let me feel something. a sick desire to accomplish something on my own, without influence from other people. people who know nothing.

do you know how scary it is? how afraid i was? completely alone in the dim evening light, clutching at my hood; shaking, blind and unable to breathe. i wasn't expecting that either.

i find it ironic that i was saved by a man. he only called me for a chat - i didn't prompt him. and i didn't tell him about the state i was in. pretending is second nature. who needs to know? its not like im the only one. maybe he'll never know how much i owe him. just one thankyou when he had to go; i didn't explain why and he never asked. i think he knew not to, and that is a gift in itself.

the pain is still there. the lock has been broken, the frosted glass wall shattered to pieces before me. once they start, they won't stop. i find it strange that the key to lock was merely putting myself in someone else's circumstances. empathy. finally, i understood something. i cried for her, and i cried for me.

the end of one notebook, the beginning of a new one.

    i've had my notebook for four years. it took me a while to learn how to trust it, but after a few months it took to travelling with me everywhere. everything goes in the notebook: random thoughts, occasional pieces of homework, legendary quotes, whole episode dialogues from my favourite tv shows. and every once in a while, as i try (and usually fail) to understand something, an attempt at an actual piece of writing. something which i love doing, but definitely need to improve on!
   sadly, my beloved notebook is slowly coming to the end of its life, having been drowned by several glasses of water and ripped to pieces by various sharp objects in my bag. so, i thought, why not start a new notebook; one that can't be (affectionately) abused or worn over time?
   this is now the start of my blog, a 'new beginning' - trying not to sound too dramatic and cheesy here :)
 
    so here goes.