Thursday, November 24, 2011


I'm so mangled nobody can understand me. Not even myself. It's my greatest curse.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Blue and green.

A soul was dropped on my path today, on the corner of Davie and Granville. He told me that my auras are blue and green. Blue means calm, and it was fighting, trying to overcome the green aura. Green means emotions. My life is like an hourglass that has been suddenly flipped over. The green sand, my emotions that I am fighting, are being covered in calm blue sand. I don't want the sand on this half of the timer to run out. So I shall make my egg timer bigger, and add more sand.

Once upon a time.

I met someone. He writes and stuff. Scripts. Lots of things. And he took my very real, very blunt life, and spun it into a story. My life became a dream again, the way it used to be. I don't think I mind, I've always been kind of a dreamer anyways.

Every end is a beginning.

Monday, November 14, 2011


I'm going to embrace this darkness within me. I'm going to float upon it, paint with it, make creations with it, I'm going to ball it up and throw it everywhere. I'm going to eat it. Play with it. Who am I to deny what I am?

Sunday, November 13, 2011

Red, Read, Red.

Am I heartless or is my heart too big? Is there a soul behind these eyes, and will I ever know the answer? Lost I am, and lost I'll be. Better lost than found, what's life if there is nothing left to search. My mind and my heart are two million miles apart.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011


Sometimes my best hope of finding true happiness is to keep pretending that I'm happy.

This way I can keep happy people in my life, and keep smiling.

There's no point in letting the seams of the quilt I've worked so hard to make, tear apart.

Monday, November 7, 2011

Confessions of a blank mind.

I was graced with the luck of having so many amazing experiences in my life, that I am now left with only high expectations of every waking moment, and I no longer see the beauty of everything around me. Simple things used to spark my mind. A blue sky, the clouds, a leaf, a bug against the bark of a tree. Now I walk under the sky as if it is a blank canvas, and I don't know what to do with it, nor do I notice it. I don't know what to write anymore. I don't know how I feel anymore. I feel like a walking, expressionless blank sheet, bleached, conforming to the shape of everything I land on.

I don't know where and when I lost touch with myself. But now I'm flailing my arms blindly, deafly, trying to find my own self again.