stuck somewhere

Some days, I can’t seem to string together my thoughts. I feel like I’ve been running around in a maze in my head. Walls on all sides.


sssh, coffeeThe title of this photo is “Don’t speak to me until I’ve finished drinking this coffee (while I listen to the new Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds album)”. Some days are just like that, y’know? Who knows the reason.

Rings by Lovisa, Basic V Neck Tee in blue marle by Witchery, nail colour by L’oreal Colour Riche Le Vernis in Rose Paradis #201


blue sunsetUsually I’m more or less OK with myself, but some weeks I can’t help but feel sad that it’s all downhill from here. It’s like I’m watching the sun set and I can’t stop it. I miss my 20s today. How is that? I didn’t like them so much when I was there, and yet today… Tonight, I feel differently. I don’t know why.


Need to get back on the treadmill good and proper soon. Not soon, actually, more like yesterday. I fear I may now be the same weight I was when I was 15, which was not good – I was a tub[by].

Speaking of 15, there’s lots that’s going on in my life now that harks back to when I was that age. Honestly, it’s like all the chooks have decided to come home to roost this year. I honestly thought I could get through life without dealing with all that crap from when I was that age, but life has a way of getting its way. I was not close to my dad, who died in March, but who he was obviously had a significant effect on me. (And I don’t mean that in a good way.)

What’s that Philip Larkin poem about parents… Oh, that’s right, this:

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.

They may not mean to, but they do.

They fill you with the faults they had

And add some extra just for you.

That’s life, innit!


I’m feeling introspective. My fortnightly sessions on Macquarie Street always bring forth the outside-looking-in.

I’m in that mode where I don’t want to talk to anyone. Again. I am that person for whom the internet and SMS was invented. If I didn’t have to talk to another human being… Sigh… I don’t mind that thought so much some nights. Like tonight.

It’s exhausting.

Why is it so?

I don’t know.

… When I say I want to disappear I mean disappear like an ant under a thick pile of leaves beneath the shadows of giant trees. Or like a nobody in the maze of a metropolis. I’m not being moribund. I just want some solitude. Sometimes.

The xx provides the perfect soundtrack tonight. (Coexist could be one of my Top 5 albums of 2012. Could be.)


Balance of the work/life variety seems tough to come by these days.

Caring, too much, my flaw. Of things and of others’ opinions.

It’s a self-imposed cage.


I’m as fucked up as they say

I can’t fake the daytime

Found an entrance to escape into the dark

Got false lights for the sun

It’s an artificial nocturne

An outsider’s escape for a broken heart

~ Metric, Artificial Nocturne


Play loud. Really loud.

If someone else is singing about how fucked up she is, it can’t be that bad.

Silent hurrah. No applause, though, huh?