2013-02-14 @ 5:39 p.m.
For days now I�ve been meaning to write in here, only every time I�ve tried the words have gotten stuck in my throat. Have you ever just wondered whether you were really there? Whether life was real? Whether it�s all some sort of fantastic game and when we die that�s the end of it. Like the battery power on a remote�.only our batteries are one of a kind.
I feel a little bit hollow�.sometimes I feel a lot hollow. I�m struggling to maintain this cheery front when I just want to hide away. My bones are restless and my heart is confused. I�m in a permanent state of bodily lethargy and mental over-load. Nothing seems to be making sense.
I desperately want another fresh start�why is that diary? Why am I always wanting to wash away my life and start again? Why does the idea of living in a little Greek village where no one knows my name feel so damn appealing?
I want all the things that matter in life to stop mattering. I want no demands and no responsibility. I want to wake up to the smell of grapefruit and the sound of my own laughter.
Things are always changing. Nothing stays the same. Isn�t that just the oldest saying in the book? Why, when change bothers me so damn much, am I always in a hurry to make it?
I�m tired of this life of deadlines. I�m sick of feeling like I have to apologise for who I am. I�m also very tired of being this alien version of myself.
I want university to be over. Good lord, do I want it to be over. I love the learning, but this place is growing old for me. Or maybe I�m just growing old.
I want to finish this degree, just get it over with. And I want to write, I want to feel happy enough to write up a storm and make that my life. Why can�t I just do that?
Why has everything got to be so damn complicated? It�s like one thing after another � to do lists and bills and socialisation. I just want it all to go away.
I want to be debt free and care free. I want to be skinny and happy. I want to be accomplished and talented. I want to have freedom and pleasure. I don�t have any of these things right now and if I don�t find a way to do it I�m scared I�ll hate what my life has become.
Please someone give me the strength to make some progress.
A shit load of contradictions, wrapped up neatly, with a nice pretty bow.
Reading. Writing. Zoos & Animal Parks. Bowling. Coffee Ice-cream. Blues Rock/Alternative/Indie Music. Fallen Angels. Wild Flowers. Pastrami. Vanilla Coke. Autumn. Harry Potter. Driving. Turquoise. Southern Comfort. Aviators. Semolina. Christmas. Museums. Dream Catchers. Roller Coasters. Tattoos. Winter Cider. Philosophy. Vintage Shops. Night time. Chinese Lanterns. Hoop earrings. Sci-Fi. Flowery Skirts. Mythical Creatures. Weeping Willows. Castles. Yankee Candles. Rainy Mornings. Ballet Pumps. Baking. Art Galleries. Long pendants. Quills and Ink. Spiced Rum. Libraries. Sleeping. Converse. Forests. Banana Milk. Venetian Masks. Poetry. Fireworks. US License Plates. Graveyards. Quotes. White Chocolate. Cats. Stars. Scrap Books. Shopping. Metallic Nail Varnish. Keepsakes. Phoenixes. Golden Grahams. Horror Movies. Tea (Esp. Rose Earl Grey). Lemonade Shower Gel. Travelling. Tragic Love. Piercings. Old Book & New Sponge Smells. Storms. Witty People. Cherries. Colourful Socks. American Dramas. Airports. Aston Martins. Hazelnut Lattes. Cowboys. Skeleton Keys. Cajun Chicken. Ivy. Dreams. Cinnamon Waffles. Old London. French Cheese. Trilby Hats. Antiques. Colourful Plasters. Postcards. Colourful paperclips. Bangles. Marvel & DC Comics. Key rings. Notebooks.
Dishonesty. Racism. Narrow-Mindedness. Idiocy. Unwarranted Violence. Neglective Parents. Bullying. Unearned Respect. Betrayal. Extreme Heat. Bright Lights. Sickness. Mushrooms & Olives. Alarm Clocks. Unfounded Jealousy. South African Accents. Celebrity Biographies. Suffocating Presences. Restrictions. Superficial people. Game playing. Routines.
Robert Frost Leather Bound Journal.
Small Vinyl Book Ends.
Astro Star Lamp.
Small Vinyl Book Ends.
Astro Star Lamp.