conversation with myself, at night.


Who are you?

I'm Amy.

No, I didn't ask what your name was. Who are you?

is my favourite movie ever.

"... but sooner or later, if you're not in some sort of therapy whatever's going on in your head will find a way to peek it's little head outta the water.
are you alright?"

"yeah."

"yeah you're alright! you're alive!"

You squished sand into my hair, and I squished sand into yours, handfuls of tiptoed innocence.
You stayed at my house, and played me guitar before we slept.
When we woke and I saw you, your hair was crazy, your traditional seagull look.
You sleepily attempted to flatten it, gave up and shrugged to yourself.
I hid my smile beneath the cool summer sky of morning and looked up, at you.

not touching;
connected.

streams of sunlight through the trees
the tumbling giddy twirlings of happiness sweep around and i am flown away from all heartbreak and unrelenting cynicism,
entangled in you and me and this undreamed collection of moments i didn't know would ever exist but now my heart is full full full of your smiles and whispered sleepy wishes, up in this tree we forever claim, and you're right lovely this is only the beginning.

about transport,
wispy wandering between the shade and the sun
blinking flashes of uneven light and the moments caught between our ears
fixated to one unremarkable place of concrete and pink-rosed wishing
i close my eyes and move, dream.

^ design for a t-shirt thought of when about to fall asleep. had to wake up to record it so i wouldn't forget. that happens much too often to me, haha, but i usually like the result of my sleepy inspirations.

everything you are collides and explodes,

my thoughts scrambling on the edges.

^ for h.

I should be shot for writing the third-last entry here [Happening].
Ten days after I wrote that, my boyfriend of two and a half years cheated on me, a week later I broke up with him, and a week after that he repeatedly made out with a good friend of mine [an ex-friend, now, obviously].

How horribly, awfully ironic. Let me quote Friends:
   Ross:  "Huh. Isn't that ironic?"
   Phoebe [freaking out and sarcastic]:  "Yes...  and given my lifelong search for irony you can IMAGINE HOW HAPPY I AM"

Sighhh.

How have I handled all this? [The question which, I suppose, began it.]
Shockingly, in the beginning, but still better than I ever thought I would, should this happen to me. Right now, two months later, I am mostly fine, no longer having nightmares every night, and no longer am I screaming and abusing my ex and my ex-friend in my head every SECOND of every day. I still am losing weight, and still automatically think his name continuously, but am usually able to distract myself, knowing I am better off without him and that I deserve more, thanks to a friend of mine who has become much closer recently. I also wouldn't be anywhere near this sane without my best friends who have been extraordinary. I am very lucky. He is not in the same boat, at all. Rumours suggest he has turned to alcohol and that surface friends are all that remain for him. Which is more than he deserves.

In all my imaginings of how I would react to anything like this, it was nothing like I expected. When he told me he'd cheated I laughed in disbelief, and continued to find it hilarious for 20 minutes and did not believe him for days. When he told me which friend he'd kissed, I got up and left him, and no punches or words of abuse were hurled at him. Simply quiet refusal to tolerate his behaviour and then hysterics, sickness and absolute heart-wrenching AGONY in private with my friends.
Nothing like how I'd imagined it would be. For weeks afterwards I dreamt of how I SHOULD have reacted to his face. I envisaged the violence I would inflict on them repeatedly and unconsiously.
The blind, raging hatred has now faded to a burning numbness which I can usually ignore, unless the subject is brought up.

Reactions, [at least mine,] can never be predicted acurately. Dammit.

Draft 4 saved to phone on 6-11-08

Read on a train, seriously.

"Approaching Richmond. All passengers for Unknown LineID [12], Unknown LineID [13], Unknown LineID [14], Unknown LineID [7] services please change trains at Richmond."

The unknown always allures. Let's try line 14, that could be fun.

Draft 3 saved in phone on 15-11-08

"in a half-second, all memory of the incident is forgotten forever"

Lately I've been wishing for something, just anything to happen.
I'm bored with the normality, the routine of my busy life. The constant ebbs and flows. I want a cyclone to hit me full in the face just to see how I'd react.

I think about the most horrible scenarios over and over, wondering, visuallising my possible reactions and words. I don't know. What would I actually do?

And I don't want these things to happen not at all but I kinda want a simulator just to see.

But I guess you don't get second chances at developing the right reactions to unknown, impossible-to-predict moments.

Let's just wait here, musing, 'til I'm struck. Will you listen to that?

Somehow more tears have almost flowed tonight than any other night for a long time.

All caught up and panic stricken, my mind and the overflowing of worry and grief and the shared whispers of frustration over the crackly, ever reliably-bad phone line.

Slowly seeping into me again, the despair.

Eyes that itch.

The quick shadow of the moth blurs my vision as the light flashes.
Awakened.
The tiniest pulsing strobe in the vastness of ceiling,
Ever centred around the heart, the glow of flourescent heat which somehow attracts without effort.

The sunflower seeds smirk and scatter below.

...the timing and the ______ and the winter upstairs


^ half-formed, forgotten dreamy thought from the haze of sleep three nights ago.