Her eyes are grey.Her hair is straggly and wet.Her fingers are stubby.The nails are chewed and broken.Her teeth are crooked, jagged things.Her sigil is the hooked ring.One day her hook will catch your heart.
Describing her, we articulate what she is and why she is: when hope is past, she is there.
She is in a thousand thousand waiting rooms and empty streets, in grey concrete buildings and anonymous hotels.
She is on the other side of every mirror. When the eyes that look back at you know you too well, and no longer care for what they see, they are her eyes.
She stands and waits,
and in her posture the pain no longer tells you to live, and in her presence,
I have a new camera. Actually its the ONLY camera I have ever owned. And the reason why a camera-shy person will own a camera is because, said person is about to be abandoned in a new continent on her own shortly and would like to use the camera to document her life over there in case anyone wants to know about it.
I feel like a caveman. I've never handled one of these before. The functions all amuse me. Here's my favourite experimental shot:
I introduce to you, the red items in my boyfriend's room:
Yes, he has a model ship perched on top of his speaker. Its a pirate ship. We made it together out of scratch. And by scratch, I mean small rectangular blocks of plastic (read: LEGO) and an instruction manual.
None of that custom parts BIONICLE bullshit. Woohoo.
There are some things I don't can't forget 'cause it cut too deep.
I wish I didn't, I wish I did. I can't elaborate, too many people read this. I can't believe I'm still thinking about it.
Being unable to forget something 'cause it hurts, is it such a selfish, immature and unreasonable thing? That would be like saying its all my fault. The last time I blamed myself for being hurt, I landed myself in psychiatric therapy.
Where do the people who hurt me figure in that equation?
Ok, so sometime back I picked up a cat at my void deck and its been living with the boyfriend. I have no idea what breed it is, or how old it is. But it looked fucking shabby then. Still beautiful, but shabby.
Over time, with regular baths and meals and mollycoddling, it got progressively fatter
l a z i e r
but PRETTIER!! :D:D
Admittedly, its not very bright. Somewhat of a bimbo. It was supposed to be a fun night. I brought the cat home for the first time.
And it got stuck between my window grilles within 15 mins.
Well, a door left open A woman walking by A drop in the water A look in the eye A phone on the table A man on your side Someone that you think that you can trust. Is just. Another way to die.
*Note to self: Invest in huge oversized jacket for low self esteem[just want to wrap yourself up, and hole up in some dark place so no one will see how hideous you are but you have no choice]days. Till you save up enough money to plastic surgerize yourself.
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feministdirtbag's journal
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