trust vs idiot

after reading yet another personal message, i feel inspired to write a little, hence this post.

i've never trusted people enough to tell them some things. for good reason: people are untrustworthy things- they have their proven this time and again with keeping their own interests at heart at all times, and boy oh boy i know some nasty characters in this regard. that's life i guess, but it grates against me to know that they exist and what the hell made them that way.
i never was one for keeping things in, either. i'm a chatterbox, ask anyone that knows me beyond the point of acquaintence, or even easier, look at the number and length of my posts on the beloved little blog of mine.
in any case.... this talkativeness often gets me in trouble with myself, and others. not because it is solely others tales i tell, but my own. my logic: i have to deal with any crap that comes along with it too.
these two things aren't exactly what you'd call a match made in heaven., but, this is how i am and how i will remain.
this is also not what i'm wrtiting about.
it is more a matter of silence. not my own, mind.
i think its ironic that people are so trusting of others. i guess its all a matter of experience:
fool me once, shame on you, but fool me twice, and shame on me.
i got lucky, and there hasnt been a second time. for some, these seconds come time and again, and we all sit down and wonder why?

don't get me wrong, faith is a necessary part of life. essential. but only to a point.
but at what point is that line crossing into naievety?

rise against

In fields where nothing grew but weeds,
I found a flower at my feet,
bending there in my direction.
I wrapped a hand around its stem
and pulled until the roots gave in,
finding there what I've been missing.
And I know....

So I tell myself, I tell myself, it's wrong.
There's a point we pass from which we can't return.
I felt the cold rain of the coming storm...

All because of you,
I haven't slept in so long.
When I do I dream
of drowning in the ocean;
longing for the shore
where I can lay my head down.
I'll follow your voice;
all you have to do is
shout it out!

Inside my hands these petals browned;
dried up falling to the ground,
but it was already too late now.
I pushed my fingers through the earth,
returned this flower to the dirt;
so it could live, I walked away now.
But I know...

Not a day goes by when I don't feel this burn.
There's a point we pass from which we can't return.
I felt the cold rain of the coming storm...

All because of you,
I haven't slept in so long.
When I do I dream
of drowning in the ocean;
longing for the shore
where I can lay my head down.
I'll follow your voice;
all you have to do is
shout it out!

All because of you.
All because of you.

All because of you,
I haven't slept in so long.
When I do I dream
of drowning in the ocean;
longing for the shore
where I can lay my head down.
Inside these arms of yours.

All because of you
I believe in angels.
Not the kind with wings,
no, not the kind with halos;
the kind that bring you home
when home becomes a strange place.
I'll follow your voice;
all you have to do is
shout it out!




I know not why these affect me so.
there is power behind these words. power that rocks my core when i really really listen. I do not do this much because it leaves me with such a devoid feeling. i know that's an oxymoron right there, but listen to it. really listen. the rhythm, the melody, the meaning.
why did they write this?
i know why i would.
and it was brave of them.
music is brave. to be able to tell this, without giving it away.
to affect people without ever meeting them, or knowing them at all.
is magic.

stream of philosophic consciousness

it's like putting a stone in the middle of a piece of soft plastic, just floating on the surface, and watching it sink.
it's clear, but its dark down there, and deep, and it's not long before it disappears out of sight, with the last remining air bubbles wobbling to the surface, before silence.
its a blank reassurance.
there is plenty of time, don't freak out.
it's a lie.
there isn't plenty of time, not in my mind anyway. months fly by so fast these days. maybe that's because there's a lot to fill in the hours. come summer time there will be days in which the only obligation i have is an early morning walk with my dog, and then hours spent swimming and laying in the sun, sleeping.
but then March will ... well.... march into this dream, and life will begin again, and people will disappear, and reappear, and disappear all over again.
and the world will resume its normal pace of 'hectic-to-the-point-of-exhaustion'
or maybe that's just me getting too used to the lifestyle of year 12.
it's almost over. i'm so excited. the exams aren't worrying me too much because i know they will happen whether i want them to or not, and i have to try my best at the time, regardless of the result. and then my world opens up. think...... the original Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, when they open up that TINY door at the end of the corridor, and they step out of a massive one into that incredible room.
that is me, by the door, about to turn the handle.

so tell me, my friends, what lies on the other side?







~~~
Oh, and a brief note about something i noticed the other day: there were links recorded on my statBlog about people being in the early 2008 and 2007 archives. i checked it out. all three years. people, though i suspect it is only one person, have checked 'yes' for every single post i've ever written.
unless this is a creepy stalkerish thing, to which i say 'bugger off'..... i sincerely hope that you read the posts rather than just clicked the buttons. i also sincerely thank you for the little bubble of happiness/pride i felt when i came to this realisation.
i would love for you to comment this post so i can actually say hi properly, regardles of who you are.
so...
thanks XD

why.

it's a steel wire, being coiled into a a spring.
it's an excitement. and a horror.

i hate people that tag things with their mark, like they need to destroy things to make people notice them.

i wonder what went wrong when people shout their rage at the Institutions that make our world.
is it lack of education?
fear of not belonging that draws others together?
is it destroying the mind with the power of alcohol?
or drugs?

i hate drugs. their enticing effect of destroying reality. the way that what goes up must come down. the way they burn holes in pockets, the way they turn beautiful people into mindless zombies, giggling heaps, or raging bundles of dangerous muscle.

why do people take them? dont they realise its like swallowing poison?
same with nicotine.
drench them all in water. ruin them.
why do we do things that hurt us? are humans, beneath the surface, doomed to self destruct?
i think we are. not all, but some.
i feel hopeless that it happens
and that it is neither my place, nor my right to say a word against it.

the intimidation....
the makeup, the hair, the eyes, the clothes.
is all a facade.
we're all the same, beneath the clothes.
and yet..... we cannot get along, and meld normally.

I am of the catergory that loathes vandals, and has respect for the police. i like the ideals of our society. and i like order, even if this order is a little chaotic. i don't understand self destruction. i undertsand existentialism. i live it. but mutilation, agression, i do not undertand.


won't someone please help me to understand why?

i am not.

am in a rather tired, irritated mood at the moment. This may be because i was up til 1am talking, when i should have gone to bed at 9.
Eh.
I've almost finished my Dukes report, but with two days still to go and 2400 words behind me so far, it's moderatley painful to realise this report will probably be over 3500 words and i have spent the time i should have been with Daniel, in bed being pissy and writing whilst trying to keep the venom out of me words.

I hate not having a car
I hate having to rely on other people for things
I hate that I have to rely on the public transport system.
I hate that i have so much work to do right now,
and that place i want to be, is 48 km away in a place i don't even know other than the name and how to get there.
I hate that i know that things would feel better if he was holding me.
because nothing can hurt me when he does.
I hate that i'm sitting here in shorts and knee-high ugg boots, under a quilt, on a sheetless bed, when i could be somewhere else.
and i hate that regina spektor is playing in a tinny voice through my sister's laptop in the dining room, shattering my nicely made air of irritation with jumping notes and a piano.

i cant wait til i get a car.....
but it seems that the ones I choose aren't good enough for my mums standards. i know it has to be able to get up and down the freeway etc, but i dont give a flying fig if its got 60000km under the hood or 2000km. and all the ones she picks out are fantastic to her.
except that i can't afford them.
theyre $12 000 too much. and all she says is 'keep saving'.
Fuck that. i'm happy with anything, so long as i can drive it.
i NEED this. its driving me mental,
like putting a tiger in a cage, after it's had a taste of true freedom.

it's.
not.
fair.