July 2009
26 posts
I love the word ‘perforation’. She has a perforation in her dress, her skull, her heart. I have a perforated ear drum and nobody listens to me. My brain pours out the sides of my head but nobody notices.
Once, I climbed a tree. It’s such a romantic notion, but I got splinters and climbed down quickly. Wood perforated my skin like fear into my heart.
http://greensmps.org.au/content/petition/changes-yo... →
Sign this petition! The Australian Government is making changes to the eligibility criteria for Youth Allowance.
“The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference.
The opposite of art...”
– Elie Wiesel
“I talk to God but the sky is empty.”
– Sylvia Plath
My lips are tingling from the chili on the pizza I made myself for dinner. The cats got up on the bench when I wasn’t looking and gnawed on the spare pizza base so I hit them and then felt guilty. I feel really down tonight and I really wanted to start some study for uni but my notes won’t print so I have to wait ‘til tomorrow. I hate how much it upsets me when I have to deviate...
I feel like my emotions keep being shuffled around in my head. I cry I laugh I scream I smile. My head is aching and I am being treated badly today. Made to feel guilty guilty sad sad sad. I feel so lonely and is it true that we never really touch each other? On the atomic level? There’s always space between us, a massive canyon or smaller than a hair. Always repelling, forever separated.
“I do what I do, and write what I write, without calculating what is worth what...”
– Arundhati Roy
I have to fix things. Somebody’s upset and I have to fix it. She’s crying and there’s a hole in her heart.
I’m looking forward to being twenty. I’ve hated every new age upwards of sixteen, but now I’m enjoyig being older. We play grown-up all the time, anyway - we pay bills, go to dinner with SD’s boss, introduce eachother as “my partner”. Independence is starting to set in, sinking into my core and setting up house. I’ll always be my mother’s baby, but...
“And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing...”
– Sylvia Plath