Writer's Block

I need names.

I need the name to think about the characters.

But we're the characters.

And we already have names.

And I can't imagine anyone else being us two.

No matter how much I don't want to be a character in your story.

Interesting

How unusual we are. You're with them and I'm with us. You do that I don't. You listen to that I listen to this. I never thought we'd ever talk, I never thought we'd ever want to. But we do, and there's only one thing the same about us, but it doesn't seem to matter as much anymore because we're both just people.

Coming through my cracks

You're getting in.

Coming from everywhere.

From my headphones, the photos I see, the words I read, the thoughts I think, media, friends, books, families, worlds.

In through my eyes my ears my mind my nose my self.

But stay out.

Because you'll never be welcome here again.

Have You Ever?

Have you ever?
Have you ever?

Have you ever
Have you ever
Ever found
Your forever?

Your forever
Like a high
Like a high
To find before you die

Do you know
Have you dared
To find you
You never cared?

When all it does
All it makes
Is a smile
Light your face

Doesn’t matter
Never has,
What they say
You know it as,

Have you ever
Have you ever
Ever found
Your forever?

Your forever
Like a high
Like a high
To find before you die

Doesn’t matter,
So essential,
That you find it,
Your potential.

It’s the thing
You never knew
You love forever
Whole way through.

It’s not the person
Most a thing, a place
When you’ve found it
Start your chase

Have you ever
Have you ever
Ever found
Your forever?

Your forever
Like a high
Like a high
To find before you die

Find your forever
Find your forever
Find your forever
Before you die

Go.

Lollipop

You're my bright red, sticky, licky thing.

You've stained my lips, and to my jeans you cling.

You're too sweet made with so much taste,

Unfortunately you must be replaced.

Fighter

Bruised, skinned, pulled, torn, sore, achey, cut, tired, sick, dry, cracked, limping.

Strong, fit, talented, stable, toned, capable, happy.

Love is Pain

I don't want to be one of those girls in the bad relationships with the boyfriends who beat them, who don't want to leave because they feel like they need the love and affection, even if it's twisted.

I don't want to settle for just any physical contact with guys whatsoever.

But after observing my heart for a couple jujitsu classes,

I'm starting to think I'm getting a bit desperate.

Conversations

What do you say when someone says "You don't care about me."

What do you say when they're right?

Do I lie?

Do I admit it?

I don't want to hurt her feelings.

Do I care then?

But... well... I really don't.

Maybe I would if I could get through to her.

Maybe I would if we were friends.

But when you care about someone it shouldn't matter at all.

I wish "I don't know," wasn't the same as "no".

Lights off spotlight on

With me underneath it.

On stage covers gone

Scary I'll admit.

My Profile.

Name: Andrea Rose
Age: Too young.
Height: 5'5"
Status: Single
Interested in: Guys, not men.
Looking for: A guy, acceptance, friendship, dating, a relationship, love.
Getting over: The name that hurts when spoken.
Likes: J, A, S, J.
Listening to: Set Down Your Glass by Snow Patrol.
Favorite part: I'm shaking, then I'm still. When your eyes meet mine I lose simple skills, like to tell you all I want, is now.

We're waiting.

We're all sitting around looking at each other.
Occasionally we glance at the empty chair.
We don't know what to do with ourselves.
We're not sure how to behave when you haven't arrived yet.
Ever since the chair was emptied, we've been wondering if anyone will fit there as naturally and perfectly as he did.
We're not really sure of anything anymore.
All we can do is wait.

Pride is hard to swallow.

Link:

That was difficult. You better appreciate this girl.

Hate.

Blood pulsing heart beating eyes narrowing.

Keys tapping mouse clicking windows flying.

I wish you would vanish.

I seriously want you to disappear off the face of the planet.

You're the only thing left tying me to them, and I want you to let me the fuck go.

Never ever speak to me again.

How dare you you stupid little immature bitch.

I can't belieeve I ever tried to help you.

That was a fucking low blow.

I want you gone.

I never want to think about you, hear your name, see your face again.

To think I was worried about you.

You deserve all this. You deserve every little bit of the crap you're putting yourself through.

Leave me the hell alone and go shatter someone else's happiness.

NIIICEEEE!!! That was a spectacular waste of a morning, but it showcases my musical genius. :D:D

Echo.

Echo. Echo. Echo.

I re-read it with a clear mind. And it didn't hurt as much as I thought it would.

It didn't even hurt at all really. There was the tiniest whisper of a forgotten echo of feeling that's long gone, and then nothing. I think I'm supposed to be happy about that.

ARRRGGGHHHH.

You're a stupid stupid stupid boy.

With your stupid little half grown moustache that looks really ugly and your stupid funny shaped head that seems to only hold a couple random math skills.

And your stupid long eyelashes and unusual blue eyes.

And your stupid scratchy pre-pubescent voice and your stupid friendly uniqueness that managed to ensnare me in your stupid stupid little net.

And your stupid ugly coloured hoodies that I used to wanted so badly to wrap up inside.

And your stupid STUPID friends who you would date and NOT ME.

YOU'RE STUPID PICKINESS, HOW DARE YOU?

HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT?

HOW DARE YOU?

HOW COULD YOU HAVE EVER POSSIBLY CHOSEN THEM AND NOT ME?

And you tell this to SARAH.

How dare you have the nerve to talk to me after everything you don't even know you've done.

You stupid stupid stupid little boy.

How DARE you.

The stupid way you keep giving me these stupid flashbacks of all out stupid little good times when we were alone together.

Stupid times when you were excited you got me all to yourself.

Oh, oh yes.

You said so yourself, I have the conversation history to PROVE it.

And I haven't read it for ages but I know it all off by heart anyways.

Every little thing you did right just made every huge thing you did wrong even worse.

And you did every possible wrong thing wrong.

You could have made this easy for me.

Quick and clean and easy, no strings attached.

But instead you ripped me apart and tore my skin and shredded my heart with your teeth.

You stabbed me in the chest with a rusty spoon and scooped out my heart in the most violent gruesome way you possibly could have!

GOD YOU'RE GOING TO BE BAD AT BIOLOGY.

Stupid stupid little boy you have no idea what you've done. When you look at me and I look at you and we walk past each other with cold expressions of indifference, you have no idea what I'm thinking.

No, I don't hate you.

No, I definitely don't love you.

Yes, I'd be sad if you left.

No, I wont care if we never speak again.

I'm done. Over. Finished with you.

I'm only still battling with the angry scars you left behind.

I don't do words.

I am not a word person.

I can't think in words. When I think in words I confuse myself and wonder what ever made me want to think in words because words don't make sense. And I don't communicate with words. I can try but it doesn't work because how can I show how I feel and think in a different format than the way I actually do? See that didn't even sound right, because it was in WORDS. And I don't do words. 

I am a picture person.

I think in pictures. And colours and light and sparkles and fire and ice and feelings and images. I can't give someone advice in pictures because how am I supposed to get pictures to come out of my mouth? There's no body part that allows us to exactly show what picture we're thinking of. We can't project them from our eyes. We can try and draw them but that never ends up being completely right. We can take photos, which is the closest we've ever got to the truth. But I don;t know if I want to take all the photos that show my picture thoughts, because I'm thinking there's a reason we cant naturally show people our pictures. Maybe they're not supposed to see them.

Bolt

The air is still and warm.

It's muggy and it's hard to breath.

Something's charging up in the air the pressures building.

The hairs stand up on someone's neck.

A buzzing noise and anticipation and someone looks up to the angry clouds and opens their eyes.

Then the strike comes hard and fast and electrifying and shocking.

Someone laughs and smiles and cries and screams as the electricity flies through their body setting everything on fire.

Someone is burnt and charred and collapses and dissolves into a pile of gray ashes.

And everything around them is gray and charred and ashes and dead.

And the air settles and the pressure relents and the storm goes away.

And the sun comes out and lights up everything except for the dull gray charred dead spot where the thrillseeker used to stand.

And the grass and trees and the top of the hill are all dead too.

And when the clouds come back angain or whenever a shadow passes over the dead spot,

A new bud and growth and sprout of a new thrillseeker comes up to welcome the strike soley for the moment of exhilerated torture that will kill them with its awesome power.

Claws

Standing in the dark room with every one else. They're screaming and crying and moaning and suffering. It's so dark, we can't see each other's faces, so we can't see who it is exactly who's doing what. We keep the lights off so no one will know. I'm screaming with them, but a little bit quieter, because I'm afraid someone will recognise my voice anyways. And I don;t know if anyone else is like me, but the whole time I'm thinking and wondering what would happen  if I just left the room, to get away from all the pain. I consider this, but then I realise that everyone here needs me, because I'm the only one thinking enough to listen, and even if there's nothing I can do I'm the listener, and that's my job, and who knows what would happen without me in that room. But sometimes I get so fed up, and I just want to leave that place and be selfish for once and go off and leave the room and all the suffering people. So I open the door a crack and quietly slip out in to the light. It's blinding at first, but I feel happy and free and wild. But I hear the whispers coming from behind the closed doors still, no matter how hard I try and plug my ears. And a shadowy hand reaches out from behind the crack in the door and brushes at my arm. I shake it off and try to ignore it, but it's there. The whispers are telling me I'm stupid and selfish and I'm neglecting my job. I try not to listen. I want to HELP the people out of the room so they can stay with me in the light, but none of them want to listen. They might make the occaisional visit, but no one is able to stay, they all get sucked back in. I'm different though. I don't get sucked back in. Instead, I get dragged as the shadowy hand reaches out and grabs my arm, pulling me kicking and screaming back in to the darkness.

Boy.

You could be happy and I won't know
But you weren't happy the day I watched you go

And all the things that I wished I had not said
Are played in loops 'till it's madness in my head

Is it too late to remind you how we were
But not our last days of silence, screaming, blur

Most of what I remember makes me sure
I should have stopped you from walking out the door

You could be happy, I hope you are
You made me happier than I'd been by far

Somehow everything I own smells of you
And for the tiniest moment it's all not true

Do the things that you always wanted to
Without me there to hold you back, don't think, just do

More than anything I want to see you, girl boy
Take a glorious bite out of the whole world

Never

I wish you would do one thing.

That would make me think I didn't care about you more.

Than you care about me.

Oh well.

That's never going to happen.

True Love

First think. Then walk, and look so you can find. Then crouch or stand or balance or lie or twist. Then stare and think. Then try auto. Then use manual. Changing aperture for depth of field. Changing shutter speed for light. Do I need tripod? Hate tripod. Look more. Think more. See. Stop thinking. See more. Raise finger. Push button half down. Does it work? Yes. Push button all the way down. Click! Push button more. And again. And switch. And again. And stop thinking and press button and change dials and move joystick and flip numbers and adjust balance and compose and feel and see. But thinking time is over. No more thinking now, just clicking and doing. Keep clicking. Just right. Stand up. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Plug in. Turn on. Open. Revise, look, choose, delete. Open. Zoom in, zoom out. What does auto curves think? I disagree. Adjust colours. Crop. Un-do. Crop again. Zoom in, zoom out. Artsy? Meaningful? Creative? Different? Not today. Save as. Open window. Click bookmark. Upload. Wait. Still waiting. Done! Name. Re-name. Tag. Add to groups. Re-name. Wait. Watch. Read, listen. Laugh, frown, get upset, feel talented, feel like a pro, feel like an idiot. Wait more. Decide. Decision made. Love. Remember and forget. Start again.

Colours Make Sense

Back then was black.

But then, it became a dark grey.

And then a black again, with a tiny little point of white.

And then dark grey, with lots of little white points, that were actually starting to take on a blue colour.

And then the blue exploded in to the grey, and filled all of it up except for the corners.

Which were black.

And the colours were black and blue and happy and sad.

And then the blue got darker.

And then it got lighter.

And then it got so dark it turned black, the darkest black.

But it gradually lightened into a dull cloudy blue with dark black edges.

And the occasional point of light.

And then the blue was gone completely.

And it was just a neutral grey.

With one or two tiny points of cloudy blue.

That are disappearing.

In to neutral grey.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

I can't understand; comprehend; believe;  accept; imagine.

How I could have possibly; utterly; actually; literaly.

Forgotten; abandoned; omitted; lost; blotted out.

How happy; content; joyful; peaceful; sparkling.

I was when I was sad; gloomy; bitter; dejected.

"It suprised her how much she actually missed from her own personal dark ages."