All for One

Do sad songs contribute towards a bad mood...
Or do sad song cause depression?
It's like asking what came first, the chicken or the egg.
We concluded that probably both popped into existance together.
A chicken and an egg. *pop*
If only I could draw as well as blog...

Yeah yeah best birthday party ever.
We were IGNORED by the adults.
Isn't that the protocol?
Didnt get a wish, didnt get to cut the cake, didnt have candles
Did have cake, did have coffee with the cake
Did have Jerry and Oliver
I think Jerry likes Oliver. He did say our argument was the highlight of the day...
Haha, but then again, we're awesome.

Dreams dreams dreams, I keep dreaming about water.
Floods, drowning people, drowning myself.
I swear I do so much more in my dreams than in real life.
It just seems like a more interesting reality.
Even if it is only in my own head.

Doing biology report that I had so eloquently neglected for the past week
I'm starting to unwind from study mode again
Uh oh.

I can't seem to kepe my room clean.
As soon as I clean it, it gets dirty again. Why?
Fairies. Psh. I wish.
Lah lah lah. Heres my creative piece for the day:

Your presence eludes any definition. It permeated so deeply into the fabric of my reality that I no longer felt your physical entry into my sensory world. I could feel you there, your existence entangled with mine, twisting and twining, weaving everything I taste, see, feel and know. When I am still, I can feel my heart beating in rhythm to yours, my blood coursing through your veins and yours through mine. I often wondered if you concentrated you would be able to see through my eyes, taste my food, feel the rough texture of bark under my fingers and share my dreams. To tear you away from me is to rend apart my world, to pick every stitch of reality and to unravel every thread of happiness.  I concluded that I will never allow that to occur.

Concrete Angel- Martina McBride

She walks to school with the lunch she packed
Nobody knows what she's holding back
Wearing the same dress she wore yesterday
She hides the bruises with the linen and lace, oh

The teacher wonders but she doesn't ask
It's hard to see the pain behind the mask
Bearing the burden of a secret storm
Sometimes she wishes she was never born

Through the wind and the rain she stands hard as a stone
In a world that she can't rise above
But her dreams give her wings and she flies to a place
Where she's loved
concrete angel

Somebody cries in the middle of the night
The neighbors hear but they turn out the light
A fragile soul caught in the hands of fate
When morning comes it will be too late

Through the wind and the rain she stands hard as a stone
In a world that she can't rise above
But her dreams give her wings and she flies to a place
Where she's loved
concrete angel

A statue stands in a shaded place
An angel girl with an upturned face
A name is written on a polished rock
A broken heart that the world forgot

Through the wind and the rain she stands hard as a stone
In a world that she can't rise above
But her dreams give her wings and she flies to a place
Where she's loved
concrete angel

Revelation

"What's the problem?"

I don't know. There isn't really one. What more can I ask for?

Something permanent perhaps. Someone permanent.

But that's asking for too much?

You tell me what's wrong.

You tell me...

Four Winds

I went to the ocean and found the West wind there
Her dark hair streaming behind her as she sailed over the waves
Her eyes glittering like the crystal cut diamonds above her
Roaring her joy in teasing the oceans into writhing foam
"Wild West wind, what will make you help me?"
And she laughed at my folly, for she has never known love.

What should I find amongst the tree tops but the North wind
Her frigid breath glancing upon the leaves deposit a silver lining
Throwing herself against the woody bars of her prison
Howling her anguish to the uncaring, cold waxen moon
"Frozen North wind, would you happen to know what I'm looking for?"
But she was too far drowned in a lake of her own despair to hear me

In a field where I sat, I chanced upon the South wind
Her golden gown caressing the carpet flowers dotting the green
Her creamy hand stretching to kiss each blade of grass
Sighing her contentment as the blades rippled to her breath
"Lovely South wind, can you see what I desperately seek?"
She glanced back at me with warm eyes, not understanding.

One can always find the East wind in a sleepy town
Her gentle breath tickling the flames of a wavering candle
Her curiosity sounding a twinkling chime hanging by the open window
Giggling away her amusement gently between the eaves of an empty house
"Gentle East wind, have you glanced upon whom I seek within this town?"
She shook her head in denial, and drifted off after some new amusement.

Begin

Been just hanging around here and there, haunted by past ghosts. It's a small world isn't it.
Been waking up everyday and crossing it off, hoping tomorrow won't come too fast.
But we gotta go back sometime I guess.
How have I been? Well that's hard to say. I've been good and bad, but then that's life.
Bouts of depression, chocolate highs. Same ol' same ol'. Wishing for things I cannot obtain.
Not appreciating the things I have enough. But being overall, well.

Haven't seen my mates for awhile, what have I been doing all this time? Hanging. Chilling. Abit out of touch with reality really. No big get togethers, no groups. One on one, personal. Special, almost. I know better than that.

Procrastination. I kid myself when I say that it wouldn't happen. I knew it would. Sigh. There's still time, no there isn't. This lethargic feeling will not go away. I think I got fatter again. Oh well, the winter will no doubt wear it off enough if I watch myself.

Year 11, trust me when I say that it's still sinking in. Slowly, mucous in nature. Overload. What do I have to fear? Hidden away, I fear the beginning. The days that seep into nights until time is but a grey concoction of numbness. That is what I fear and abhor. Two more years. I promise then it will all be over, they say. It seems like an eternity.

What do I want to be? What is my motivation?

Shipboard

Wriggling on our bellies over the crumbling edge, we dropped, one by one, quietly into the little alcove dug into the steep descend by imaginary centuries of salty winds. One, two, three, bodies lithely lowered themselved into our line of sight. A clatter of rocks followed as a fourth, build less agiley, tumbled and thumped into the natural cave. We froze. All winced. We all listened for any disturbance through the thin earth above our heads. The drugs tainting the guards wines were potent and were proved true. More bodies followed, but we had turned our attention to a small ledge leading a steep descent to our goal, a shipwreck.We could seen the central mast from here, a stark protrusion of dark wood against the pale lavender of evening sky leaning precariously around the corner. The few shredded remnants of grey fabric sail hung limp and soggy, twitching now and then to the fickle wind. The shattered hull, embossed into our minds with days of endless observation, was obscured by the curve of the cliff face. We edged on in single file, pressing our palms against the rough sandstone, our clothes plastered against our bodies by damp winds.

The stern of the ship emerged with the fading sun over the horizon. A hazy fog blanketed the surface of the water, lazily drifting towards the shore across the pink tainted grey of the still bay. The jagged rocks pinching the hull between its fingers stood in clear, azure water, framed by a rainbow of reef. Low rocking waves sounded the empty hull like a drum, its hollow echo deep and mellow. The same waves lapped idly at the boulders beneath our feet. A few hardy tuffs of silver green grass peeked out from rocky shelters and stretched towards the water here and there amongst the pale yellow streaked with rust. The onminous wreck loomed over us now.

Though the water looked inviting, the grimance on the faces of my comrades, now slipping one by one into the water and paddling towards the wreck, suggested otherwise. It was mind numbingly cold. Cold as the ice it resembled. The wavelets, licking, nibbling, freezing, prickling, were a thousand hands groping for the fire that slowly ebbed away within my body. The air felt warm. Of all my senses, only sound remained, the spalsh of water against rock, againt the ship, against me. And then, I was being pulled into the gaping hole on the side of the ship, stepping into a damp, semi flooded wooden cave. It was somewhat warmer there, the rotten boards buffeting the wind that whistled through from on deck. Slowly, feeling returned to my limbs, and we all lined up where the sea pulsed into its victim to help the next fellow across.

So far, we'd only lost one. He slipped beneath the wavelets in a gurgle of incomprehensible terror, leg firmly grasped by the local giant octopus that had finally decided to make itself known to us. A moment later, the numbers had jumped back one. 9 in our crew. Out of curiosity and sadistic boredom, I switched to the player count numbers, and watched the numbers. Tick, another one had disappeared. 482,937 left. Half of those who had started this those four months ago. Tick. Ah, there goes another one. How many would survive to make an impact on this world? Not many at this rate.