the garden dress

the garden dress was not a garden dress at all. it wasn't the sort of thing you would wear whilst crawling on soft, moist fertiliser or to brush the sweat from your brow. it was beautiful. beautiful material, beautifully cut, beautifully fitting. i wished you could have seen me in it and loved me. but then i scolded myself. it should not be like that at all.

i wish i knew best, and i wish i could make the right choices. well, perhaps not even 'right' or 'wrong' just the better alternative. tonight i don't feel angry at myself. i feel frustrated with time, with others, with fear, with social politics. especially the latter. i feel ancient, like my skin is becoming coarse and my lips thinner. I feel like my hairline is receding and my eye lashes thinning. i feel as if weight is slowly becoming a terrible lover that is clinging to every inch of my body. i feel my back is arching as i begin to cocoon and cradle the small foetus that i will become. but i'm not angry at myself. i don't hate myself. i just feel scared. scared that slowly yet surely i will be less and less wanted. i feel that slowly but surely my time of being noticed and special and certain has passed. i'm disappointed that i spent that time fretting and not embracing. now, i'm trying so desperately hard to embrace everything because the directors that drive my mind in the hard times are far too domineering. my mum says that i'm beautiful and that i look much younger and fresher these days. but she's my mother and although i want to trust her, i know that she too has her own selfish agendas of protection and control. the more i stay here and seek comfort it what is, the more i want to run away. whatever happened to our meeting at the airport? whatever happened to falling in love with strangers? it was real for me. i don't want to be rational and logical and intelligent if it means i cannot and should not believe in the authenticity and innocence of people. perhaps it is because i feel broken or because i was missed my grandest opportunities. i feel like i'm getting sick and maybe it is because i shared a drink with you. i feel afraid. i should probably go to sleep and wake up to the new day. then i should drag myself to leave the covers and go for a run. then i should photocopy the book to put the songs in a book for my friend. then i should go to the post office and buy more stamps. i lost my stamps. i had so many too. i need to write to another friend. but i am utterly insane. it was better off this way. i've let things go now, you can't hold on to things.

whatever happened to carpe diem. why are we so afraid? we complain of institutionalism and yet we are the ones who set the constructs in our lives. there's a reason why i prefer romantic to classical and jazz to pop.

sometimes we just need to take one day at a time. i still just want to wear black and tie my hair and cover my face. i just feel like it is better that way. what if you could make their day? i know it would make mine. maybe there's a new philosophy coming into play. i'll let you know once i figure it out for myself. there's no need to ask for your approval. you would say no anyway.

it may be you, or perhaps my new dress

it may be you, or perhaps my new dress,

perhaps the feeling of summer on my skin, maybe the music

either the way tonight is a good night. These don't come often so I figured I should document it to remind myself that happiness is possible.

i really think i may have some personality disorder or perhaps I'm just emotionally handicapped because my lows are seriously debilitating but the highs are so damn beautiful.

yes, yes, yes, I have a lot of love right now!

so... what's happening?

I don't like watching movies for the afterwards. I can get so shaken for so long and absorbed in some fictional character's life and emotions. I made soup today. Mushroom soup. It was really nice. I can't wait until the holidays. Not even Poulenc is quirky to me right now. I'm starting to panic about a lot of things. Ever read the Raw Shark Texts? I never finished it. But if you ever do, it talks about 'live' texts or something to that effect. That's how I feel all the time. It's a little bit scary and makes you overly precarious.

I'm at my happiest when I'm surrounded by plants, when I'm planting, when I'm in a park. I feel a sense of guilt and depression to see wilted flowers in supermarkets.

I'm at my happiest when I'm composing or totally absorbed in a piece of music that I love.

I'm at my happiest when I'm hugging someone that I really care about.

I've realised that things need to change in the now. I make plans because I'm not happy in the present. I've found that a lot of the reasons that I'm unhappy have to do with conclusions I've come to in my head, but cannot repeat, for fear that they're false and I wouldn't want to lie to you. I make up happy endings in my head. The endings are always happy when they lead me away from here.

I am at my happiest when I can be myself.

I am at my happiest when no one expects anything from me. I hate people knowing about anything that I've achieved or done because most people will treat me differently. I hate that. So I suppose you study all the time. BULL SHIT. I don't like that at all. I like trying things and giving things a go. No one ever asks me about my favourite song. It's always what's your BEST song or the HARDEST song that I've ever had to play. I don't understand why.

Yet things are never good enough. I was never enough. And I guess I'm afraid that I never will be. I wish I had someone who could completely understand me and just laugh at my moments of bipolar mood swings. Don't be silly Anna - it's all just chemical. I try to tell myself that. But it's hard to believe when tears won't stop coming out of your eyes and you will as if you are about to be sick.

I'm hoping for a better time. I'm hoping for a change. I'm trying so hard to be the change I want to see in my world. I'm terribly lost and confused about so many things. I won't tell anyone the whole truth. Because nothing's wrong. In some way it's easier that way. With my mum it is anyway. I just have to smile (but not too much) and reassert that everything is fine and that I am following the average path of every other ordinary person my age. But that's not true. That's a lie. I don't like lies. I don't like it when people pretend.

I'm learning the hard way that perhaps I was right not to have faith in others. Yet, in the same neuron transmission of thought I feel that now is perhaps the time when I need most of my faith.

I'm so awfully sorry. For everything. Really, I am. And I wish things could have been different. And yet, I know they never will, because if I were you and she was her, I would have run a long time ago.

come fly with me

next year. Between June 27 to July 27. Greece. Italy.

Please?

complaint

Just something I wanted to voice:

I could smell cigarette smoke at random intervals all night during the CANCER COUNCIL Relay for Life Event. I wanted to smack those people over the head. grrr.

brain explosion

I've had this feeling for a long time. It's the feeling that I am well and truly insane. I don't think I am. I know I usually blame it on hormones, but I checked my calendar and I wasn't supposed to be so hormonal until another week or so. I feel really scared and I don't even know of what. My head really hurts. Maybe it's just one of those days.