photo (7)Over And Out is just a little project I’ve been working on lately, I’m hoping that it’ll grow into something pretty cool but for the meantime, it’s nice to have a place to jot down some thoughts.
‘I have been spending a lot of my time at the hospital lately. My grandfather wasn’t doing so well for a while there. A sea of worry and hopelessness washed over all of us for a brief time. A hopelessness so excessive, I found myself not recognizing humour and not recognizing joy. But he’s gotten a lot better. The hollows of his cheeks have filled in quite a bit and he’s been walking around, exploring. He hasn’t been released yet but he’s been moved from the coronary care unit to cardiac rehabilitation, which it good.

I’ve been doing quite a bit of exploring myself and found that ironically enough, the people in cardiac rehabilitation have such warm hearts.
A week and a bit ago, my exhaustion levels were high and my optimism excessively low. Today, I realized something. It’s not that bad a place.
It seems that cardiac rehabilitation isn’t just for the patient, but for the patient’s family, and for anyone really.
I’ve found that I really enjoy the consistency of seeing the same smiling people. I’ve made quite a bit of friendly and somewhat awkward conversation with many of the people with who have been feeding my caffeine addiction. There is a constant movement that doesn’t allow for boredom. It’s somewhat like going to a casino. You can sit in the one spot for six hours and not realize how much time has gone by.
You arrive and talk and laugh because things are better and you’re allowed to do these things now. You go to the bathroom, grab a coffee, use the home brand hand sanitizer half a dozen times, sit down, read a little bit, grab a sandwich, have it toasted, grab a drink, eat your food, go to the bathroom, grab another coffee, use the home brand hand sanitizer another half a dozen times, talk some more, laugh some more, laugh a little extra then you leave and repeat it all the next day.
Routine.
Consistency.
Familiar.
These are all good things. And I’m proud of myself. For someone is so easily anxious, I have seemed to pull positive things out of a not
so positive situation and I enjoy this. Maybe a little too much.

I enjoy seeing people and knowing where their room is or knowing who they’re visiting.
I enjoy knowing that the woman who visit’s her husband in bed 23 goes home for a few hours around 1 and comes back in no time every day.
I enjoy knowing that everyone has their own story and I have already learnt so many of them. I enjoy knowing that the two boys and that little girl who walked past me as I arrived where the sons and granddaughter of the couple in bed 24.
I enjoy knowing that I found this information out after having walked past them. The world is so interconnected and everyone has invisible wires connected through relationships and sympathies and glances and simple smiles, these wires are everywhere and coloured and if you could see them and create a key, it would be chaotic. But in a good way.

It is a consistency. The simplicity of a smile. The discussion at the register. My grandparent’s laugh, their love. It is routine, familiar, constant. It is good.’

IMG_1889
there’s no drink or drug I’ve tried, to rid the curse of these lover’s eyes and I feel numb, beneath your tongue, your strength just makes me feel less strong

If you run your fingers against your own skin, does your touch feel unfamiliar?
If you step out into the rain, does each droplet feel any more significant than the last?
If you live and breathe each day with a substantial amount of love and positivity, does the universe give you love and positivity in return?

The above picture I took two or so weeks ago. I went on a trip with my friends up to Shoal Bay for a few days. An over three hour road trip there, and I could never tire of it. I shocked myself in many ways. Over the course of four days I realized more about myself than I have in an exceeding long period of time. I realized that I can be patient, that I enjoy calm, that family isn’t blood or genes. That chromosomes have nothing to do with what or who is ‘home‘.
I found home in family. And family I found in people I know will be in my life always. We do not share blood, nor do we share genes. We share something far greater and far more powerful.

I find myself having faith in humanity. I find myself knowing that life isn’t always perfect and transcendent. Terrible things happen, and sometimes we feel hopeless. And although it took me a while, I finally realize that over trusting the universe, I trust myself.

I trust myself to love the world. To appreciate and enjoy every second. Whether it be ecstatic or horrid. I realize that it’s not just enough to love someone, but I must also love myself. Love myself enough to know that I deserve to be happy. And if I am not, then I must find a way to be so. I must find joy and pleasure in every single day. Because life’s like that and I refuse to waste my days being unhappy. I have found comfort in myself and in those around me. I have found a way to draw preciousness out of life and not run from pain, but merely accept it’s temporary inhabitance within my life, and know that it is just that. Temporary.

I have found that it is important in times of trial and suffering and exhaustion, that we must be able to live with ourselves before we think of doing so with others. This is inexplicably significant. Sometimes life is hard. Sometimes it’s wonderful. But life’s like that. And I have found enough strength within myself to stand up and carry on.

So if you run your fingers against your own skin, it sometimes doesn’t feel familiar.
And when you step out into the rain, each droplet just makes you damp, and each makes you damper than the last. And if you live and breathe each day with a substantial amount of love and positivity, the universe will provide you with love, possibility, strength and positivity in return.

Here’s a delightful little picture of my cousin’s belongings~

With these things there’s no telling, we just have to wait and see.
But I’d rather be working for a paycheck, than waiting to win the lottery.

Hello, hello, hello.
Before I go any further into how I’ve been and what’s been happening with me, I’m billing over my sincerest apologies for yet again, not updating at a consistent pace.
I’m overall at a very happy place right now. My home situation isn’t that enjoyable but I’ve come to recognize that it won’t be my home situation forever.
I’m in year 12 now, I’m hoping to somehow muster enough money to get into Shillington College, I’m not really good at much else. If all else fails, I plan on cutting hair for a living.
I can’t wait until these next 3 terms are over, oh the burden that will be lifted of my chest, I can’t wait for that relief.

I can’t wait till it’s over and I can laugh to all those people that said, ‘Enjoy it while you can, when you work, you’ll wish you were at school.’ I will never miss school, all of my schooling life was and will be hell. And even if I don’t enjoy my job, I’ll get paid for it. Compromise~

I’m not that stressed or worried about anything right now. Conor Oberst’s voice has been repeating for the past two hours and something about it, and knowing I’m safe and comfortable for once, makes me feel at ease.
Have you ever felt so happy that you just wanted to cry? I’ve been feeling that lately. I feel like sobbing because I can’t believe it. If you’ve ever been sad, if you’ve ever known sadness or pain, or depression or loss, or hurt… If you’ve ever known any of it, you’ll understand what I’m talking about when I refer to that heavy feeling on your chest, as though there’s an elephant sitting on your lungs.

If you’ve ever recovered, or been on your way to it, you’ll understand how it must feel when that elephant finally decides to get up.
If you have ever recovered, congratulations. Enjoy your happy tears, you deserve them. You made it. And if you haven’t recovered yet, don’t stress. Just keep breathing. That elephant will get tired of sitting soon, have faith.

 

Went to Bondi yesterday with some of my friends, the weather was fairly warm and I have the ever so slightest tan going on, you can see strap lines on my shoulders. The water was freezing cold and there were hardly any waves. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the beach so busy before.
As a comparison of my days, today is cold. It’s dark, it’s cloudy, it’s boring and I’m not spending it with anyone who means anything to me. I haven’t been this bored in a very long time, and since I seem to have lost all talent that use to reside in my right hemisphere, I can not draw nor can I write to past the time. I don’t have the patience to read, not lately. I’m unimpressed and uninspired, and I feel fairly miserable today.  Tomorrow will be much of the same.

I’m thinking of either going into prostitution or drug dealing because for some reason, normal ass forms of employment don’t want me. I think when McDonald’s rejects you, there’s really no where to go from there. Not that the idea of being around meat and oil is all that impressive to me in the first place. I have yet to buy my ticket to Amity, I have $2 and I’m fairly sure I have another $48 to save before I can get it.

There have been a few things bothering me lately. My future, my appearance, my sudden lack of any real skill or interest in anything. Everyone knows what they want to do. Everyone knows what they’re good at, and everyone’s trying to get somewhere. I’m simply existing. Barely. I have to start my major work for Art next term, I have no ideas. Not one. The creative nerves that once stemmed from my brain are dead.
I might spend the rest of today lying around watching tv, and further exhausting my laziness.

Letters To Queens

September 6, 2011

The Freshmen

September 5, 2011

I won’t be held responsible, she fell in love in the first place.

I just wrote an entire essay that I was going to post, but I highlighted that shit and backspaced it all. None of it seems right.
I’m not sure what’s happening to me lately. I can’t draw. I can’t write. I can’t do anything. I think it’s because I’m happy, being miserable suited me well. It made me great. My cynicism and negativity fed my emotions. Now I’m too pleased to bother being creative. And I’m scared. I’m so terribly scared. I don’t want to be miserable again. I did it for too long and I’m not ready to go back to that. Thinking about it right now is making me teary. I’m getting a lump in my throat just picturing it…

To be honest, I don’t need art. I don’t need to draw or to write or to do anything that requires my right hemisphere at all. I have no desire to sit in white rooms, stringing together consonants and phrases. I have no desire to have paint all over my clothes, I have no desire to be covered in red stains. Red stains of any kind. If my cynicism is being taken away from me, and I can no longer hold a brush…
If I’m no longer allowed to be miserable, and  my sentences stop making perfect sense…
Then fine. I’ll give all that I could do, every stroke, every word, every minuscule letter. If it means I’m happy, I’ll give it all.

Urges & Vices

July 30, 2011

So this is a picture I took of my friends hand. I love cameras. They make me really happy.
I know I haven’t blogged in a while, I’ve just been going through some pretty serious home stuff and I couldn’t really bare to come here and write without dribbling around some overly melancholic sap about my life. I didn’t want to put you through that. So I’m going to stay remotely positive.

I had some coconut today, it was disgusting. I like coconut milk and coconut flakes but real, fresh coconuts are disgusting. Had to wash it down with pineapple.

I’m so tired, I honestly can not stay awake and it’s only 9pm.
My best friend is going to Spain for World Youth Day, I won’t see her for three weeks. This saddens me. I’m not looking forward to August.

I’m not sure what else to write about. I promise I’ll write more often now, I feel more intact with my creative side now than I did over the period that I went cold turkey.

Laters.


Waking up from this nightmare. How's your life, what's it like there? 
Is it all what you want it to be? Does it hurt when you think about me?

Hey there WordPress. Not much has happened since I lasted posted. I saw a few of
my favourite bands live. I saw Buried In Verona, Pierce The Veil (Which, if you didn't
already know, is the band that I named this blog after,) Escape The Fate, Hand Of Mercy,
Underoath and A Day To Remember. They were all really amazing. I lost my shoes during ETF.

So it's pretty cold here in Sydney, and it's not even winter yet. I feel pretty ill and
I've sneezed a minimum of 20 times today. I really can't be bothered for school any more.
I'm too tired and lazy and I'm sick of certain things and certain people. 
I'm almost there though... Just a year and a bit left.
I'm going to see Parkway Drive and Miss May I on Friday, then I won't be going to any
concerts till September, when You Me At Six decide to come down here.
Anyone going to Soundwave Revolution? It'd be great to meet some of you. (:
Hope you're all doing well, I'll be sure to post sometime this week and describe my days.
Stay safe.
xx 

P.S; This was a photo I took in Bondi a while ago. This photo makes me so happy... 
Things were different and better. 
EDIT: Don't know what the hell happened to the font for this post, sorry about that.

I want a tattoo on my inner left wrist, saying ‘My scars will heal.’
Shall I explain the meaning behind such a choice?

When I was in year 8, the doctor said I had depression. This was the year that I began cutting. I cut my wrists, my legs, and my waist.  This was the year that my life changed. I became indescribably unhappy. Year 9 was much the same, only worse. My problems increased, as did my cutting. Year 10 felt like the worst year of my life. I ran away, attempted suicide… more than once, and felt more lonely than ever. During this time frame, I saw psychologists, counsellors, youth and health officers, etc, etc. You name it, I saw it. No one seemed to be helping.
Towards the end of year 10, my soul mate moved away. My sister left the state, and I was left with no best friend,  no one to talk to, and no one to hold me when I cried. That girl is still the only one who understands me. Towards the middle of year 10, I began to worry about my weight. It slowing became more and more significant and I then began to realize, how much fatter than other girls I am. I’m not that fat… But compared to the other skinny, pretty and much more beautiful girls, I felt obese and disgusting. Then year 11 came, and with it, other problems. I lost the remainder of close friends that I had, and therefore became more depressed. Instead of just feeling alone now, I actually am. I’ve found new ways of harming myself as I don’t eat very often any more.  If I do, I’ll make sure it comes back up.

I can’t say that I’ve gotten better. I can’t say that I’ve gotten worse.
I’m sick. I might die, I might not. But these series of events, problems and difficulties in my life forced me to throw myself into the art world. I began drawing what I thought were meaningless artworks, paintings, etc, etc. From this, I then realized what I want to do.

I turn 17 this year. When I finish high school, I plan on going to COFA and getting a Bachelor of Fine Arts. I want to become a tattoo artist, not because it seems like a pretty fucking awesome thing to do, but because I want to engrave permanent reminders like, ‘My scars will heal,’ on the bodies  of other people with difficulties, problems and shitty lives, so they know that not only are they not alone, but they are alive.

They will make it.
Their scars will heal.