(no subject)
Well, you wanted photos of meas a change from photos I took. Hey. Look, there's me outside le Sacré Coeur in Paris doing my whole 'one eye bigger than the other' thing and looking happy. Ah, those were the days.
The problem is I don't want to do what I want to do. I want to yell at things. And I want to punch someone. No, not anyone who reads my journal. And I'm so pissed off at myself for being pissed off. If I understand, why does it make me so angry?
The good news is the pushover voice inside my head is finally growing some balls and telling the cynical bastard voice inside my head to get fucked. Making it no longer a pushover. Woo for the voices in my head, finally standing up for themselves. Now if only I could get rid of them.
I don't want voices in my head anymore.
Little bastards, trying to get the better of me.
They also hate each other, so they stay up all night yelling at each other while I'm trying to sleep. No wonder I'm so tired. No wonder I'm so homesick. No wonder I'm being such a bitch. I yelled at one of my best friends. No, not anyone who reads my journal. But he didn't even deserve it and afterwards he didn't want to talk to me. He did after I apologised and explained and now we're back to dreaming of the Driller Killer remake and having nightmares of Rob Zombie's Halloween remake and making crude references to anal sex and dildos. I suppose that's a hooray. But not for the undeserved bitchiness. Hmm.
Good god I can't wait to get home. I need a hug from my real mummy. And my daddy. And brother and sister and dog and friend and boyfriend. If I still have one. He's the only boyfriend I've had that I still want to spend time with after nine months. So I hope I still have him when I get home.
I also hope I still have home when I get home.
I have established that I am angry.
I don't know of what is making me angry. I don't know the source of my anger.
All I know is that I am angry at me.
Ha, weren't expecting that, were you?
Fabienne told me that occurences in life are like nails in a fence. If you hammer a nail into a fence, it's like hurting someone. Even after you take the nail out, you've left a hole. Apologies won't fill in that hole. I've made too many apologies in my life and now everyone I love is filled with holes. Including myself.
I know that I wasn't quite ready before
But I am
Too love drunk to quite open the door
But I can
And I looked too far outside and not quite at me
And quite unexpected you came quietly
And I'm proving with pencils and pieces of me
That I am
You know that I
A sort of collector
I'll make birds of these things
My says will be seeds
And my words will be wings
And there's things
I hadn't the heart
But I am
And love is this blanket I left in the dryer
And anything held that long catches on fire
And it's gone
I'm sorry it's gone
I'm sorry it's gone
I'm sorry it's gone
I said I'm sorry it's gone
But there is a sewing which comes after sleeping
And sometimes theres something that still is worth keeping around
But there is a sewing which comes after sleeping
And sometimes theres something that still is worth keeping around
But there is a sewing which comes after sleeping
And sometimes theres something that still is worth keeping around
Oh and I said there is a sewing which comes after sleeping
And sometimes theres something that still is worth keeping around
And that's what I've found
I have what I've found
I have what I've found
I have what I've found
My words will be wings and
And various things and
I used to have strings
But they're gone
God damn they're gone