questionaive verbals, misspellings, hiccups and hurricanes

now is nothing, nothing is now,
continuance is a curse,

you

were a vow


that apology? one worded? vague, false? rejected by my vocabulary.
for now. the next now? nothing of the sort~! the very ridiculousness

winder warmth cradles me tight,
devoid of suffocations
cradles
comfort

"i want to collect beautiful girls like i collect jokers?".

don't

care:)

truthfully, ultimately

even love has limits.

bones

i told miki and lauren that which i was going to tell noone. i do trust them. but now it's real
i wonder what'll happen next

you make me

ill, sick
what way out is there? this feels too perverse to ever want to let go of me. i might have to tell him how i want to do things right

nothing lasts forever

creativity

photography and art are very different things and require very different skill. for my part mostly i've indulged in photography over time, i'm not quite sure why, i do have a certain eye for things and a compelling desire to capture it but that's no excuse for not finding room for more in hand art forms.

i have an itching in my fingers to create now, and not to limit myself to one medium either.

each creation by an artist, not a photographer, being fictitious then creates a fictitious world of which we can only see through a pinhole; that pinhole being the finished art piece.

aspiring to create is not enough, hopefully this will be the start of a very long unlimited stretch of motivation for me

misery loves company

it's as if all the bothers and pains of the mundane reality are ineffective at getting through to me, i recognise them but cannot read them through the content of my insides being too vast

antianticuring

expression leaking out from vats i never knew... surprising myself is easier than ever, and expectations haven't changed, it's me

.

it's been time, i've been occupied.
i'm happy, i'm sad, i'm so far inbetween that maybe neither of the polarities will govern over my life alone for too long

i don't know.
i'm only sixteen, i'm just a girl, i'm lost, i'm learning. can you tell i'm caught up? my cocktail of brain chemicals isn't a content one, i keep wishing i was more drunk or stoned, it's easier then. once you start modifying your head it's ok to carry on until you reach a good point, right. i'm right :p



we talked about us and the future again recently, on and off over the past few days. i like and have always liked how it's been thought out, realistic is the only way anything could work, but i know no promises can be made and when the time comes, my half will be in my hands. i almost can't wait.

i woke up with him yesterday to a very limited torrent(but a torrent nonetheless) of what ifs, it made me so sad. i told him them, eventually, he brushed away the first with a promise and the last he ignored. how dare other girls exist. pfffft. i'm rubbish, i'm green, it's ok i noticed now i can stop


the material world makes me UNHAPPY; there is nothing positive to be derived from my surroundings.
not making the most out of the material world makes me unhappy.
not making the most out of myself makes me unhappy.

happiness is built on promise and faith and trust
this is what happens when any of the cornerstones are lost

confessions of the english essay avoidant variety

i think i'm getting better at pretending to be pretty

end please

bitter is not sweet
bitter is torture

and i was born to be bitter.

i want to end and start and stop a lot
malice has done more good to me than a lot of people

starting sampling a little more HONESTY

i hurt someone today

utterly unintentionally, but i did it nonetheless. the perverse thing is afterwards, before i knew for sure how he was, i was on a complete natural high.

and there was that dream. if changed a lot of today. it changed how i looked at him. it changed my thoughts on the bus. it changed my actions. which in actuality led to the unintentional hurt.

bad, bad jess.

enjoyment

of that which is overlooked

cinnamon
clove
vanilla
money spiders
the smell of new notes
the logic in mathematics
the reflections of buildings in the floods
wellies and a tutu
glitter
smiling strangers
remembering dreams
rerealising you're in love with someone

it's good practice to not forget :)

you are not to blame for bittersweet distractors

it's almost deceptively ingenious how i managed to fool myself by applying this lyric only to my experiences, in the last moments given to thought on alex it's near impossible to accept it without some degree of anger. i do not understand the focus on forgiveness and forgetting, as neither are adequate enough to define anything i feel.
but some things and people are just not worth talking about.

it's been mellow yet hectic, the times of recent; it itself they counteract the other not to produce a nothing but confusion, but oxymorons exist for a reason. more chemicals, more smokes, places and feelings and people. walking allows me to turn inside and think like a professional, when i can accurately recall that mood i may recount those moments and immortalize them. it seems as though everything i ever think is of great importance to me and the world, and maybe a little more motivation to record it would be welcomed
of course the importance is subjective and i know it's really, really not of any more value than the headstuff of others, but i'm the center of my universe and i'll say what i like about it

a day's deliberation of thought

i re-realise that no matter what, two things are not going to change; his memory of it and my feelings about it. decided in the recent now is my fire exit route. at present i have little reason for this, it would involve catastrophic spurts of irrationality, but time changes the world around me and the people within. we shall have to see. and in the meantime i will be waiting teetering for all hell to break loose inside and out.

today i've felt drained and similarly pained, like my spirit's been raped with a pitchfork. reasoning lies in yesterday eventime's events and talks with alex, it's taking this long for it all to settle in. romantic fucked up couply bullshit, it's all i need. smells like sarcasm? i bet.

i know exactly what power i have over emotion and i know how to best hold it back. deciding my own future for definite is a dangerous thing; i have a tendency to spite myself and others most gloriously if given the chance. but it is part of what defines me, i shalln't shun it

tolerance

why do i do it? i hate unknown reasoning, there is no sense to make from it.

doing for the sake of being

i consider it to be excessively important that a person be thinking something of significant interest at any time, to maintain an ongoing focussed whirlwind state of mind. challenging aspirations such as this really only serve moments of success in comparision to lengthy hours of decompressed disinterest. cheating, this entry could well be considered. ha.

and more and more

the assembly rooms really is the truest place in glastonbury that captures the spirit of the place. it's beautiful.. small town, big people. getting into the right bodily mood for careless but true dancing is tricksy, more so when sober unfortunately. after a few weird moments involving a girl requesting alex's nipple in her mouth (!) and some faltering steps it was fine. actually it was more than fine, it was fucking brilliant. big fuckoff boots turned it into expression of an angry pixie, which suited more than anything. notable characters include swarms of shirtless untalented but energetic teenage boys, ben who was looking remarkably like a particularly attractive bear, and an over-exertive female, probably chemically pulsing (i say probably?) who was resorting to what i figured was probably her preferred art form.. incessant repetitive shrill whistling. i ripped my nails down boy's back when finding him in front of me and wishing to make my mark, which turned itself into another moment of disappointment towards him an the way he reacts to life. saying that, having little choice in displaying a fine array of bloodied welts across your beautiful, skeletal back can hardly be considered a part of life as a norm. whatever.

buses are getting tedious. if considered realistically, they were never not, but they are becoming more and more familiar to myself and i am becoming more and more irritateds by the other occupants of space. middle-aged men who think it's ok to be dully pedantic about the signs on the bus, women discussing knitting, children screaming, pathetic chirping music, crispin students loudly displaying to the world their stupidity and ignorance, strangers smelling.. where does it stop.

aggro with michaela lately. i think i'm trying to exercise my morals forcably on her regarding alex, she needs a kick in the head, then a hug. i saw her on the bus midway through our online shit, i think she then tried to make a pointed show of getting off it and as far away as possible, as soon as possible. it was laughable.

as for myself, much room for improvement.
this is enough

admitedly more chemical content

today was, in it's own way, insane.
in words: exhausted and listless, artings with cedrik, then glastonbury, jonald and lauren, candy sticks, breakfast;) , park, giggles, poetry, monk traffic cone and smiley, buses, understanding, fluidity, lawrence, dicken

and all just a little unexpected
and a little bit nice

:)

chemical induced irrationality

pathetic.



how can i explain earlier? irrational slight nagging feelings pulling me deeper in until they're just part of an inescapable cycle
it's the same equally irrational and lost sadness as the acid had. i almost wish i could go back there, i would have stayed out longer on the surface of the planet, in the empty cold windy streetlit alleys.. but then i knew that what happened to me was very likely to have a long lasting effect.. much dismay if this is it, it is much more probable than anything else. adds insult to injury if it's self inflicted, and insult twists and pains just as much as any wound

*shakes self*
temporary recovery always feels falsely refreshing

today wasn't all right. college is feeling really strange, i know how to deal with it, and i am, but the fixed and stubborn nature of the routine gets to me as much as it ever did. conversing with people is strange, as well. but that's only today, i think
i ran from him today. he didn't even realise until he'd woken up from slyly falling asleep. i hurt myself when i did that, too. i greeted him, a sleepy him, went upstairs, lay on the bed for a few seconds with him. his nipple looked so appealing under his dirt white shirt, i bit him. it hurt more than i meant, i just left, out into the sunshine, out into the away.

and again, dealing with myself using separation. i'd like this to be the last time i do this to myself. at the time, any time, the prospect of self punishment appeals, but i think it does serve it's purpose more if it finds interruption.



in that empty cold windy streetlit alley, i find myself wishing i had let go. of him, of all.
this isn't free. even stripping away all the obligations, institutions, it's not. but i chose this for myself, and freedom would be very lonely without him.

l'update

not a lot of writing here lately. i have half wanted to, half forgot. finding myself unable to translate my thoughts into anything remotely coherent on acid last friday was the trigger, but some things we need not write because they WILL remain with me in memory.

yesterday was beautiful. arguments and stuck and love in the morning, i disappeared off to wells on my own simply because i could (and discovered jelly belly beans...oh god). riflemans, more stuck, a little horrible. mikes with pretty people, corny, lauren, selena, alex, miki.. and a new pagan fiend, shane. amusement, alcohol. then the tor, nos, gorgeous music from inside the tower, friendly strangers with goatees, lit by the town. no eclipse was visible though, the british climate saw to that. back to the home which is not mine, 4am. slept until 3, dull grey day, not much to say aside from i love my boy, and i'm a grumpy bastard.

out.

yesterday, valentine's. sweetness with my sweetness. sex at lunchtime. and the evening in the orchard by a fire, laughing at haikus, indian food, and the same old appreciation for the same people always deserving.
this morning, excruciating. pessimistic circles of thought and futility etched into every moment.
and now, hungry. bothered less, but bothered nonetheless. i sought contentment through my self amusement and autonomy. this is becoming a more regular occurance than ever.

it's unrealistic to take a nihilistic approach to life like this, it is not stable and predictable, a single conversation can change my day. when something is in the moment it is empowered so it becomes something i've always felt, thought, been. recognising in this the real truths, and not the fabricated ones threaded by my unhead, is a long and slow process resembling a struggle

i am not the person i am aspiring to be, i am the person who holds the aspirations. i am the grey in the sky. i am the uninspiration felt in students alike, with high thoughts and a thirst for understanding. i am nothing that i adore.
but recognition tastes sweet, sweeter than most.

i need not press myself to write more, ample distraction has been found
relax, repeat, suffer, relax.

polarities

again.

finding myself in the middle of a day where everything winds up being unexpected and slotting together to form a whole picture. no plans, basic mundane expectations, and i come to be in the center of a jigsaw puzzle with only a smile on my face. maybe it's the sun. it's something that's not me, that's for sure. OR! there's the inbetween bits, where everything's at an excruciating standstill, and time is being killed each and every second. my number one problem is i need a change of scenery; to get out of the house. even if i just go to a field and read, that's enough. it's just everything beforehand that's a struggle.

i talk to boy about change, and i take it seriously, and i shed tears over it, but really can only administer it to myself if it is a complete Something that affects my life holistically. when there's nothing to do, there is no fualt in seeking company. but fault is found when in the presence of said company i am irritated at the circumstace leading up to it.

how LONG is it going to take me to get out of my patterns of laziness and procrastination!? i am not ridiculous.

today was a day of

limited choice. i have been exasperated that there is nothing to do, when in fact i know this is not true.

i am currently distracting myself from the issue of time, so i can continue with my only task; to not phone him. i even got up and looked around my room for something to do, but it just served to tell me that is nothing i can do, apart from not phoning him.

i read back through my old journal entries on vf. most over a year old had been cleaned out, for a reason, i'm sure. but i came to realise that i am much the same person i have been for about that; a year. i've always been troubled "deeply" by some thing or other, i've always been searching for new and interesting ways of translating feeling into a language more universal.

i suppose

i am always looking for something to define my feelings with, and in music it can be done so well already by someone who is just more articulate at transferring the feeling into words than i.

so, the mood of the moment is colorblind.

yesterday was eventful

new perspectives, new people, new levels of conversation

it's all so very odd, yet because it happened, it has to be perfectly normal.

i want

to read about your miseries

vendredi

the world of music never fails to astound me. i found myself unable to concentrate on the analytical nature of the overdue essay i was attempting to write, and instead fully lost myself to the noise of what sounded similar to psychedic classical playing inbetween my ears. realising this, i have found yet another distraction, this time in the form of blog writing. i appear to be willingly loosing all knowledge of how to deal with motivation, taking my usual approach and just not doing what i must, leaving it until there is no other option. but nevermind. i'll learn one day, probably the hard way, but at least i'll learn. as for today, i'll just have to skip lessons as planned for writing this. i could now go into great depth of my appreciation for the subject of this piece of literary crap, the Shakespearean character Ariel the air sprite, but i can at least recognise a bad idea when i have one. let's tie this up and get on, please.

again today hugely irritated by my patterns of thought. moments like those within this morning, i often (and excruciatingly) question my wholeness as a human being when i find myself unable to release the ghosts. it's awful. the said ghosts as people have unknowingly somehow captured parts of my head. i wonder how i can eliminate them. i half-did, once, when circumstances appeared to change, but then i realised the parts that mattered hadn't in the slightest and i could not let go.

talking about it does no good. suppression, please. i wish there were vitamins for you.

i missed two buses in a row this morning, the hopelessness of which i found amusing. wasted forty short minutes doing nothing, wandering, then to much happiness i encountered a Qita at other bus stop. old friends give me a wonderful sense of being lifted up somehow, finding parts of myself i'd lain aside for the new world i live in. glastonbury's confining nature means some day or another i'll find again the people i've forgotten. i reencountered Kim yesterday, i can't begin to explain how wonderful it felt. i utterly love her, she's like a sister, or another part of me. without her now i feel almost wounded, but it would be a hate crime against myself to not see her again in the near future. every moment is an opportunity for change. and these are for her.

there is no

"only way".

i wish i never felt like this, that there were no ghosts, and i lived in the past again.
i miss summertime like nothing else.

attachment

is irrational.

some faces

i am sick of seeing plastered all over my internets. i've never been fond of repetition. once something's been said or done, the point has been made, surely.
ok, i get it. i get you. i've got you.
can't you just stop rubbing it in?

we have

a problem here.

currently

more frustrated than usual with norms and values held in society, and their invisible but everpresent bind on myself.
i really don't like england right now.

recovery sunday

once again reminded of how truly good nights have a resonant feeling of contentment following :)

the past few days have been lovely, i have mostly alex to thank for that. the cause is somewhat difficult for me to get my head around.. but i think he's just had a few alterations of jess-related reality.

yesterday was hectic, to say the least. so so so worth it though, despite my many slight aches and pains now. the hospital "visit" was an experience and a half, these places are too real to find unusual to me now. cycling all that way pushed me a little after so little experience lately, and it just occurred to me i don't think i've ever had the need to cycle that kind of distance before. the house party was purrfect, saw and engaged with a great deal of people i knew and didn't know, moderation of spirits not making me drunk and disorderly despite the volume consumed.. but allowing me to become a rather dramatic lady of the higher classes. it's such a lovely social buzz, still with me.

my hair is still purple. the promise of monies next week is keeping my spirits high, it will allow for slight changes in outward appearance which are, of course, always welcomed. i think perhaps that my apparent interest in "unusual" aesthetics is really just a sign of my boredom, living in this cutesy overpopulated country town with not much to kill time with. i'm an ongoing art project. constantly changing and altering, working as a whole in each moment but never coming to a final point where all is complete. i wonder if this sounds familiar to anyone.

i prefer not to write about the immediate things going on in my life, more so on everpresent or paradoxically spontaneous underlying trains of thoughts.. but my happiness should be documented in a way which i'll find easy to re-encompass when read, not any cryptic shit i could spout out.

my nails are more interesting than rooms of people

i am not and will never be an antihero.

my eyes are bored

well it took so bloody long for me to get this thing sorted, really what i should do is make my first post something of great interest. but i enjoy creating pointless opposition to myself, so here's nothing of any interest at all.