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