And in the end, it’s not the years in your life that count. It’s the life in your years.

I know the reason for it being as it has lately. Why I sleep with a candle burning next to my slumberess head. I feel the breeze and touch of the spirits, I hear the laughter and singing they bring with their presence, the crying and weeping they try to hide from you. I’m not sure why she is so persistant with death lately. I guiltily should have realised sooner. I diassociate the lapse of time I should never forget. So pressed into my mind are nightmares. The most vivid and creative ways of death, pain and torture upon my soul. I do not ask for this. I hate this.

I slept 23  hours straight over the weekend, not from cause of my own. My body was trapped, under my mind which forever churned out the dreams and events before my internal eye, not allowing my body to function and awake itself.

I dreamt of rape. By someone I am fearful of. He came to my house, held me down, My screams muffled by the sting of his fist against my face. The throbbing of pain between my legs and the arch of my back in a wrongful unnatural position. I tried screaming. Nobody came until it was too late. I was found bruised and bloody slumped against a wall.  He walked away laughing. This is a dream I remember so vividly but wish not to at all.

I dreamt of fire. Burning housefire. We were pulled from it safely. But as I watch the flames lick closer to where my written and photographic posistions were held, I sobbed and reached out for all my memories soon to be lost. No place left in the world, no record of my existance being able to remain through such force. I ran back into the house. Clutching and ducking the beams of fire above my head. I reached the bookshelf, I touched my albums and diaries of years gone by. They turned to dust.  The fire hadn’t even reached that area yet, but somehow, life did not want these possesions to remain. I let the blackbness ofthe charred smoke fill my lungs, sting my eyes, and the carbon dioxide to take my conciousness.

I dreamt of death. The death of a baby. I was in another life, perhaps myself older, mature, calmer and above all, happy. I was surround by love and warmth, and carried a beautiful double set golden pair of rings upon my wedding finger. In my dream, I tried to recall the other aspects of my life, who was I sharing it with, where was I living? But my dream did not want me to know all this, just understand I was happy in my time. I felt sensations in my abdomen, and remembered a flash of a warm embrace with someone and realised I was pregnant. The dream focused in fast succesion the process of change upon my body. From subtle growth, to the gentle bubble like feeling of when the child moved inside me. The happiness at baby showers, lotioning the growing skin, Laughter and soft pink colours of a nursery. The the day arrived, I was surrounded by loved ones, the pain of giving birth in a dream was rather frightening, but overtaken by adrenelin. The bundle arrived, the room went silent. A bundle wrapped in pink was taken out of the room. I searched the eyes of the attending people lingering in the room, their eyes showed sadness, beyond belief. I wanted to know what was wrong? Why was there no crying coming from the other room, why was no one acknowledging me? I jumped out of bed, and ran into the adjoining room. There before my eyes, was a hollow, lifeless gray body of something so tiny and miraculous, it looked like it wasn’t even there. I had given birth to a child who had already passed on.

I dreamt others like the three above. Each time waking up sobbing, screaming, exhausted, irrational and dillusional. But to relive the rest of them, in order to detail them in words, would exhaust me even more. Just the memories of such visions, so real and life like, that my brain still has trouble deciding the difference between reality and not. I don’t want to know to be honest. Sleep allows me to avoid all in life. Well I thought it did. I want to sleep to escape my reality, but my sleeping mind is now worse that real life. I’m scared to go to sleep, and scared to stay awake. Is there not some place between I can substantiate a viewing glass of life? Yet not be involved as much as I am at the moment… I’m scared of the next second, the next phone call, the next email, the next letter, the next conversation with someone around me, scared of tomorrow, of tonight, of deciding anything from lunch to where should I be on my break. When I make a decision, I’m scared its the wrong one. I’m not normally like this, but I feel as though I given the reigns of my soul to someone else for a while. No one in particular, just in auto-pilot mode whilst I take a break. Oh how badly do I need a break…

There’s only one I miss at the moment

It just never gets better does it. Compared to my last post anyway. I decide to cancel all previous arrangements I had with said boys. I’ve decided Men are the scum of the earth (again) and can’t see any satisfaction or gratification in going on dates, getting attention, playing hard to get. I’m over it. I don’t want to be here anymore. To Top it all off, my phone gets disconnected. After having the same number for 4 years.  Hundreds of people have dialled my number. How easy it was. I’ll never get it back, so here it WAS: 044 81 00 00 8. Oh my dear handpicked number.

I’m in so much debt. I want to get out of it. AARRGGGHHHH I want to scream. But upon my return form my holiday I have a plan for that.

I fly away tomorrow. Up, up in the air, I fly… Zoom, zoom, zoom zoom zoom.. Where the arms of long lost family await me. New tales of adventure await.

I finally heard from my Sailor today. Via text. It hurt a little bit. I miss him, miss his morning wake up calls, his updates throughout the day. We were meant to spend the laugh half of this holiday together. He blames me and my life for ending it. Yet after a few months he begged me to open up to him. To let him in and become an ‘US’. so I did, and he couldn’t handle it, the drama in my life. It’s my fault my friend gets hit by a car, my fault my friend jumped out and started dancing. Everything was always my fault. I shouldn’t feel as sad as I do. I guess I thought I’d finally found someone worthy of me. But I guess he wasn’t. Its like a retracting animal that lives within a shell, comes fully out the first time, explores the world. Gets hurt and retreats. After a while, it finally decides to explore again, not exposing so much of themselves, being tempted out by trusting creatures, a little bit comes out, only to be hurt again, retreating the lost animal further into its self. Never again is that animal likely to come out as much as it had. Thanks for that Asshole. I hope you die old, lonely, childless, and hated. Not really but if felt good to say it. I miss your company and friendship so much. I hope you do too.

The Hit’n'Run

It had been the end of 8 days straight partying for us. With three nights inbetween of soberness. And 3 days of work. Outside of those hours, we partied hard and long. Sunday night we decided to call it an early night.

I had forgotten my phone charger, it was 8.30pm, and we were high on the last of our alcohol, preparing for a healthy sleep and a hearty meal. Two cars crossed our paths travelling in opposite directions, she help me back from the roads edge commenting it was unusually busy to see two cars on the street at the same time. As they passed in front of us, we started crossing, keeping our gaze to the left, where we would see oncoming traffic for a few hundred metres. Behind us there would have been no traffic, it was the wrong side of the road. In a split second I saw the back of a red car speeding its way to us. It was reversing. On a road, at about 60kms an hour. I screamed. She turned into the boot of the car with such force even the spoiler was crushed. She was flung from the car, into the air, and landed in a heap about a metre away from the boot. I screamed. I continued to scream. even whilst dialing 000 which I did without thinking. I screamed till people ran out from their houses. I screamed till I lost my voice, as I write this two days later, I still have no voice.

She was taken away in an ambulance. We planned to end our partying month that night. At least she went out with a Bang. I hope she is resting peacefully and recovering well.

It had been the end of 8 days straight partying for us. With three nights inbetween of soberness. And 3 days of work. Outside of those hours, we partied hard and long. Sunday night we decided to call it an early night.

I had forgotten my phone charger, it was 8.30pm, and we were high on the last of our alcohol, preparing for a healthy sleep and a hearty meal. Two cars crossed our paths travelling in opposite directions, she help me back from the roads edge commenting it was unusually busy to see two cars on the street at the same time. As they passed in front of us, we started crossing, keeping our gaze to the left, where we would see oncoming traffic for a few hundred metres. Behind us there would have been no traffic, it was the wrong side of the road. In a split second I saw the back of a red car speeding its way to us. It was reversing. On a road, at about 60kms an hour. I screamed. She turned into the boot of the car with such force even the spoiler was crushed. She was flung from the car, into the air, and landed in a heap about a metre away from the boot. I screamed. I continued to scream. even whilst dialing 000 which I did without thinking. I screamed till people ran out from their houses. I screamed till I lost my voice, as I write this two days later, I still have no voice.

She was taken away in an ambulance. We planned to end our partying month that night. At least she went out with a Bang. I hope she is resting peacefully and recovering well.

I’m Back

So I’m back in the land of online fufillment. I wanted my return post to be happy, filled with love and joy and happiness.. Truth is, I wish I was back where I was this time last week. In my sanctuary, where I am as important as the other, Where the outside world can not filter through its sheilds of protection. Laughter, love and comfort are all that is required. Warmth, novels, sleep, pain killers, kisses, strokes of affection, now I mss it all.

I’ve come home to an emptiness. The pain resides deep within me, and aches through my fresh wounds. The operation went well, only just over an hour. The pain never ceases though. I went today and got my stitches out. My blood doesnt clot well enough so i need this dry-root stuff. Horrible tasting. It acts as a false blood clot.

I’ve also most likely lost my job. I swore at my boss over the phone. He accused me of something he was misinformed of. So I swore. I broke my final promise with my employer, I’m trying to get a transfer elsewhere as quick as I can. I want to fade away. Run away with no one in particular, but run away with myself.

I have self doubts over who I am, where I am going.
I’m falling but not sure where to. All around me, the paths I create, crumble with each step I take.
Sideswipe remarks and absent voices.

I don’t want any pain anymore, inside or outside.

Oh well, back to my soup, just thought I would do an update…

PS: I’m still waking up at 4am crying, and it’s waking others up.. Can anyone tell me why I’m doing this?

Dear Me, Please Help me, Love Me.

I feel trapped again. The enlightenment I feel is short lived. Without trying, I know I am hurting others. Either I have or am about to. Why can’t everything just go easy? Maybe because others press their requirements, needs and wants of me, admirations used as subtle blackmail. Now my actions I have/am taking, are going to affect the promises made to those who bled it out of me like water from a stone. Do I be honest and come clean and not be pre-judged nor judgemental of myself? Take life as a grain of salt? Or lie, cover up the truth and pretend I am still in bliss of basking in the colours of the rainbow.

 

I have abused my body in a way I never thought I would again. I don’t remember much of three days. I felt like I was living in a 70’s dream. Trapped in a room, surround by dozens upon dozens of empty bottles tainted with the wisping smoke of many cigarettes wafting into the tiny abode. My skin covered in sweat, trickles of absinthe, yager and chocolate liquors stain the white flesh of my body. My mind is struggling to remember five minutes ago, every few minutes. I feel like a tiny child, trapped yet exploring the world for the first time. Abandoning all insecurities and sharing one soul with another. Once it all ended, I must have inner strength, to stop myself from swaying off the path I have built the past few years. Self respect and willpower are one of a kind. A skill I shall need to master, but is oh so fun to let go of.

The memory of the Start..

You know when you have so much to drink, you have no idea in the world what happened the night before? and one day a few months later u’re in the shower or brushing your teeth or stuck in traffic and you suddenly have a wash back of memories? You finally remember!! Yay… or Nay..

I don’t remember much of my 21st, at all really. I’m normally a responsible drinker (obviously until that night). I couldn’t figure out why I let myself drink that much.

I was just putting on eyeliner, getting ready for the night and I had this wave of a flashback where you stand straight and stare  into nothing as if you’re watching the memory play out in front of you. Well it was of my 21st. 20 minutes after I turned 21 in America, yet It had been my birthday for 12 hrs back in Australia. And I hadn’t heard from him. To be honest when he called that night, it was the only time he called me on my whole 10 day holiday. even when I was stranded with no money because i left all my credit cards and money at home.

He called, he said happy birthday. I said thankyou, mentioned that it already been all day where he was, why didn’t he call me earlier or send a message. He said he hadn’t wanted to ruin my night. He said he was moving out. I should have been elated as thats what we both wanted for so long. Said he would be gone by the time i got back.

So i came home from America, elated and full of esteem and determined for a new journey on life. I came home, my friends all raced around and i told them stories over wine and presents and a bbq.

But then he walked through the front door. He hadn’t moved out. I ignored him, all night till he cornered me. Took all my new found energy away in a single second. Why couldn’t he have movd out then. before I got back. It would have made everything so much easier. And i was under the impression I would come home to my own house..

Oh well…

Life feels good now. I love it.

Sickness

Started taking my meds again today. Got the script filled yesterday. Thought it would be a matter of popping one in the morning and feeling all jolly again like I was before my thunder was crashed and stolen and redeveloped into a spinning sphere of bright red hate and anguish.

 But no, within ten minutes my pupils are dilated to size of mini 8-balls. My mouth is dry and my teeth are grinding. The yawns also start. By god the yawns, I swear within a 1 minute time frame I could yawn 70 times. Not normal ones, but short, jagged, strained with immense tension from my neck to the lower back with each breath of air. I’m remembering it all now. If I had remembered how bad the start was, I wouldn’t have started again!! All I can think of is the goodness I feel.

Then the sickness started about an hr afterwards. I held on as long as I could to subdue the waves of nausea causing me grief in public. Public it happened to be. Ride outside a hospital. I was lucky enough to make it to a lonely little alley way and sat there on the cold tar, pouring down with rain, and waited for it to go away.

 I went to the hospital for an allergy test today from a referral from the Ed last month. It appears I have become allergic to anti-histamines such as Ibuprofen, Aspirin etc.. Every Friday now I have to go to the hospital where they pump me full of a different drug and sit there for 5 hours in a controlled environment to see if it happens again. That way if it does, they can make it go away quicker. But just the thought of that crazy burn red raw swollen feeling covering my body again for the third time is enough to make me miss the appointments and just never take pain killers again.

 I also went to the doctors yesterday. Bailed up in bed in pain I hadn’t noticed before. Turns out the doctor discovered I have a very sensitive spot which is likely to be either my appendix or a cyst on the old egg makers..  Rather than cause a fuss and more $$, I’m going to resume my everyday duties minus pain killers. I have found another way to make the pain go away. No it’s not alcohol and it’s not illegal.. Well in some states..

 Finally got water into the house last night. Had two rather gorgeous young men rock up to my house at 9pm in a big truck. They dug many holes around the street and stood standing in the rain talking to me and teaching me how everything works. By 11.30 pm they decided to hook my pipe up to a neighbour’s yard to get water. The road needs to be pulled up to replace the pipe leading into my house. What fun. At least I have water for the first time in 6 days. You take for granted the simple things such as warm long showers, washing hands in running water, being able to do the dishes.. Although my toilet still flushed which was a bonus.. I survived on heaps of Dettol hand wash and bottled water. Never Again.

  

Headache

I sit here with a throbbing pain in my head. Drifting its way down my body like blood red waves washing up against a rocky coast. I feel sick like a shaken milkshake. I swear i’m pregnant. But nothing will prove it.

I had a dream, that the events of last night turned out differently. He asked why I stopped directing posts to him. He looked sadden.

In reality you waltzed into my safe haven of friends. Muddied it with ur charming stance. Not daring to look my way, and when you did. I made sure all you could see was happieness and laughter escaping my face. It didn’t change anything. I got looks and words of dreaded sympathy. A few wanted to smash ur head in for coming to such a place. You felt unwelcome, your place where you normally pride yourself was gone. You were banished to the other side. Few came to talk to u. Some went to keep u company. You are no longer welcome. If you ever come back, ur tyres will be slashed, ur lights smashed, ur sweet innocent grin cut from ur face with the jaggerred edge of ur mirrors.

Now I’m waiting for him to come collect the dog. I even messaged civilly asking so.. If u don’t reply by the time the hand swings past the next mention of an hour, you will not be able to take her.

I need help. Yes in my brain and body, but in this house. Iwant to rid it of ur furniture, ur belongings, ur essence. I am too frail to accomplish such a task. My mind is wavering along the highway of giving up. Sleeps tormented with countless smiles from u. then ripped apart with fire bursting from the centre. I have lost my innocence. I will never be as sweet, loving,caring or giving within a relationship. I am tainted, stale of the stench, a broken wish bone. Mendable only to a certain extent, whilst the scarring evidence of my cracked fortay is visable for all to see.

I want to rid my life of everything. Everything in it..Sometimes I think friends too.I have the skills to make new ones. It would be so much easier. Maybe I dont want to make new ones. Maybe I just don’t want to be here  anymore. I can’t deal with this rollercoaster of life.. The intense ups and the incredablydefying lows. I am spent. Wasted. Giving up. Well not giving up. I have tried my hardest.

I had three nice men ask for my number throughout last night. Right in front of him too. Oh self confidence, how you rise at the most unexplainable times. Where are u when I need you today? In my phone. The calls and texts from many unknown. Willing me to look good, speak well and be funny. Maybe I’m oozing charm. The opportunities are endless. But on a miserable day where I can’t see through the rain, I would like to sit in ones arms, talk about life. I’ve never had that before. Even with the devil, he would never allow me such comfort. My tears were never wiped away, my smiles never embraced and my views never challenged nor agreed upon. I wasted three years. I badly want it back. Not with him, but those years. The most youthfull years of my life. Gone to an unappreciative waste of space. Forgotten like an unmarked grave. lost like the wick of a burnt out candle. Impossible to retrace.

I am trapped in a life I neither want and can’t escape. Maybe I can.

I hate you

I hate you for the person you have turned me into.

I will forever be ruined for nice men in the future.

I get to see you briefly tonight. And i wish I could murder u and torture u. But then you wouldn’t spend the rest of ur life wanting me back like I know you will.

The Chef -Fight

I caused a fight with the Chef the other day. Due to my own insecurities. It felt good though once it was sorted out the next day. He talks to me like I’m the most important thing in the world. We can both be completely upfront and honest with each other about what we both want. Which is not a relationship on my behalf. Now we can move forward with our friendship. He cooked me frozen lunches again J

 He gave me a book on how to read body language.
He’s moving to Rockingham next week. I won’t see him much then. If at all. M knows how much I hate to drive that far. But I drove far to work today. It was great. I got to sing Dido at the top of my lungs. Now I can’t stop singing. I sing a lot these days. Must mean I’m happy. My work mates aren’t liking it. They say they are going to start wearing ear muffs.

 I got told last night I have Eva Longoria’s eyebrows and Jennifer Anniston’s eyes. I told the Chef via text and he wrote back saying “And a Soul to die for”  *tear*

 He is taking me to the Gold Class cinema’s tonight. I feel like a queen. I have split everything 50/50 in regards to money so far. I like to pay my own way. However he invited me, so I’m not going to offer to pay for dinner. Might seem rude, but he was rude by checking his bank balance on speaker phone which announced he had $10K + in his normal account. Show off. He can pay.

 That’s all about the Chef. No more updates. I’m pissed off there’s not enough time in my life to talk with him about all the things we never have time to keep talking about. I could talk forever. He talks more than me. Strange.

 PS: I’m sorry for being so nasty to him.
Wine + Me + PMS = Total Bitch