9.8.7.6.5...

Can you see through me?
I feel slightly opaque at the moment. A little clear, a little glassy.
It's hard to explain this feeling that I have. That I'm not quite in the world but observing it.
It's like a guided tour with the ghosts of my past where I can watch things happen but do nothing to alter them, only, It's not guided... I'm alone.
I don't mind I suppose. It's not a bad view. It's nice to take a break and just take in the world from a safe distance.
Perhaps I'm not made of glass.
But it feels like I am.
It's a rather complicated thought this one. That I am glass and this is why I am invisible, but also that I am glass and this is why I must be invisible.
I need to be a safe distance from things to stop myself being shattered, it's irresponsible for glass to run around and pretend it's just like everyone else. Not only could I shatter, but I could hurt other people. I could fall and decapitate someone... or worse.
Just one hit and I'd be gone, and perhaps a few innocent (presumably) bystanders too.
But I can't be in the world because I can't be seen, it's hardly a choice I'm making. So am I invisible because I need to be? Or is it simply a case of curious timing that I came to be invisible now amongst a whirlwind of... sand? through my hour glass?
Are these the days of my life?
It's a riddle I can't solve.
Im safe here, behind my glass, inside my glass. It's funny how something so fragile can be the only thing holding me together.
If the world can't see me then I must be invisible, I can't be involved.
Perhaps I need to be glass right now.
I don't think I could handle being a being.

It's a time of reflection nonetheless... whether I be glass or simply in possession of glass like qualities.
Is it that without a lover I am only half a person, will I remain shatterable until I take the plunge I'm most afraid will break me?
What a tremendous leap of faith that would be.
How can the key to my solidity be the very thing that rendered me to cellophane in the first place? And where would I leap to?







Dear Future Lover,

i love you
That much is a given because it is our destiny to be loved and in love.
The more important question I have to ask today is when do I find you? In what chapter of my life do we meet and fall for each other? And is this the kind of story that ends happily ever after or is there a sequel?
How far do I have until I get to the end of the race, do we cross the line together?
Will I write you a story and make you mine? Will you write me into your music and your heart? How does it start? When does it end?
Do we meet in a coffee shop; you see me scrawling on a napkin, alone, deep in thought. Do I glance up and see you cross the street and get stampedded by butterflies?
Do we work together in a restaurant and write love notes in our aprons? Have we already met?
Do you send me flowers and take me on adventures?
Do I meet you in the city while I'm getting stockings and stamps? Do you serve me ice-cream or ink?
Do I talk to you or do you talk to me?
Do we drink tea under a blanket in the lounge room? Lie on the floor listening to music and talking about nonsense?
Do we make a life together?
Do we change the world together?

When do you break my heart?
(L)

can you spare a thought?

I'm distracted by a million thoughts all tugging at strands of my brain, begging for attention and direction. But there's one thought who has outsmarted the lot. One thought that doesn't need to tug for my attention.
This frustrating anomaly keeps my brain going round and round in circles. I don't know what it's trying to tell me. I can't stop trying to figure it out.
I'm wasting time here, wasting life here. So please, just answer me: Who are you?
I can't stop trying to figure out what I want, what I need, what I already have.
Do I have you? Do I know you? Have we met? Can we meet?

I feel so lost when you're not around.
I don't know you, and I don't know how to get to know you.
Do I know you?









Dear Mysterious thoughts,

i love you,
I can't sleep at night.
Whenever I close my eyes you're there, haunting me.
Why can't I get you out of my head? What makes you think you own it? That you belong there?
Don't you think it's time you moved on? Aren't you bored... ready to leave?
I don't know what to do to get rid of you, nothing's making you disappear.
Who are you?
You take up so much of my time with random thoughts and smiles. I want you gone so I can get back to my new life.
I do have a plan. I will beat you.
Do you want to hear my plan?
Too bad.
I'll get you out of my head, you better believe it. I have to because I need to... I want to be free again.
When was I ever free?
I'll get you out of my head. You watch out, I'm a forced to reckoned with. And when you're out you will be in so much trouble you will be forging fake ID's and passports and leaving the country... but guess what, I'll already be at the airport, waiting for you.
I'll get you out of my head and once I have that space back I'll use all that you usurped to plot my next move, making sure you feel my wrath.
I'll get you out of my head, and once I do I'll make sure... I'll make damn sure.
I'm getting you out of my head and I'm getting you into my bed, I need to. I need you.

I have a plan

(L)

WARNING:

Blogging by request?
People ask me to write blog posts about them... It's a tricky gig that. I mean it's easy enough, I could probably write a blog about anything or anyone; living, dead, zombied, immortal, half-dead, angelic, demonic, frustrating or even boring.
The tricky bit comes in the recipient, the requestee if you will, because you can never be sure how one will take ones blog posting. You see I can write blogs all day about how much I love things but when I write a blog saying how much i love you... well... it's then things seem to get a little icky.
Apparently 'i love you', those infamous three itty words, no matter how many times I have repeated them on this page, still manage to retain their overall power and tend to result in nasty-ass side effects such as:

• Anger on many fronts
• Uncomfortableness in ones seat
• Giddness
  
• Sharp chest pain
• Coughing of blood
• Loss of brains, heart and/or courage
  
• Sudden shortness of breath
• Heaviness of chest
• Sudden sever headache or vomiting
  
• Dizziness or fainting
• Disturbances of vision or speech
• Weakness or numbness in an arm or leg
• Greening of pigmentation around the entire body
  
• Jaundice or yellowing of the skin or eyeballs
• Fever, fatigue or loss of appetite
  
• Itchy rashes
• Rise in blood pressure
• Mutations in the form of extra limbs or third eyes
  
• Swelling around the eyes or mouth
  

So just a heads up, if you ask me to write about you or we talk about blogging about you or I decide on one of my whimsiest whims to dedicate a blog to you... PLEASE don't use it against me with the realisation that my love is more fickle than a pickles. We all know that me loving you is a scary thought indeed, most men run from the idea, climb down deep shafts (the use of the word shaft in ones blogging is always difficult to negotiate without its regular connotations and contexts eg: "I rubbed my hand
over his hard shaft"), the point is, don't be afraid of my love because my love is unrequited, it is small and unobtrusive, it is contained and restrained.
My love is inanimate.





Dear Pickles,

i love you
Pickles may refer to:

1. A pickled cucumber, a food most commonly referred to as a pickle in the U.S. and Canada
2. A pickled onion, a food most commonly referred to as a pickle in the UK. => Other vegetables that have been pickled
   
3. Pickles (comic strip), a comic strip by Brian Crane
4. Pickles (dog), the dog that found the World Cup trophy in 1966
5. "Pickles" (SpongeBob SquarePants episode)

I don't mind which version of you is referred to. You are all I think about.
This letter is for you, I hope when you read it you realise just how much you mean to me and then hopefully, how much I mean to you?
Can we be together?
Yes?
No?
Maybe?

You pickle my fancy.
(L)

the night crawlers

I went adventuring last night.
I woke up from a deep slumber, packed a bag of supplies, tied some knots in my laces and set out to save my relatives from the faraway castle where they had been imprisoned.
I had to do all sorts of bizarre but necessary things to get to my destination, as we all know, faraway castles are notoriously hard to get to. I solved riddles, fought giants, commandeered luck dragons and rode all around the city on their backs, wind blowing in my hair.
There were clues to decipher and concealed doorways to locate with hidden keys tucked away in dark corners.
I hunted and foraged for my meals and rested briefly under trees in the swaying motion of the night. The air was full of anticipation, the night was on my side.
I drank from the magic goblet which gave me strange and wonderful new powers, power which enabled me to save my family and make them safe.
I returned home, flying this time on the back of the nights joys, the airs ecstasy and rivers euphoria.
There was magic and the magic and I flew home together.
When I woke up this morning it was gone, it was just me alone in my bed. The night and it's magic had crept away while a slumbered and I awoke with only vague memories of the all that have passed.
I was happy though, that I woke up as me.
Just me.
I'll do.






Dear Bed,

i love you
You and I are the perfect match. I didn't realise how much I would miss you, or even suppose how much I was missing you, when I moved.
I missed everything, your soft touch, falling asleep in your arms, the way you whisper to me while I sleep and send me into peaceful dreams and most importantly the way you lift me off the floor and stop the ants crawling all over me while I slumber.
You're the one i want to watch movies with, cuddle with, spend time with when I'm sick. Nothing brings me instant comfort the way you do. You have the ability to lift my mood and take me a lace of divine luxury. You make me feel like a princess.
You're the one for me, I know that now, and I also know that we can't be apart again. I don't enjoy it when your not around. Your the only one I want to sleep with in this world. I've tried couches and cushions and foamies and tents and cabins and lodges and tree-houses and none of these compare to being with you.
The moment I saw you standing in my room, in pieces, asking for me to have you in my life I knew that leaving you was the worst mistake I have ever made.
Thank you for finding your way back to me,

Now we can sleep together for eternity,
(L)

who's going to save you now that i'm dead?

Today. Today. Today. Today I feel like writing, unfortunately that feeling is not skipping merrily hand-in-hand with something to say.
I'm coming up against a lot of obstacles, not just in my writing which is all but dead.
I feel like a heroic prince; yielding my sword to bravely cut back the terrifying and encroaching poisoned vine that threatens to choke the fragile neck of my princess. Only I can't cut fast enough, and my sword is too heavy and the vines are creeping around my ankles. I can't move, I'm stuck, my sword has fallen to my side, I'm covered in vines, I can't see my princess, she's disappeared too.
Who's going to save me? If I'm the one who does the saving?
Why am I the prince?
Why can't I be the princess?





Dear Independence,

i love you
I've never had this feeling before, this feeling of being alone and liking it. Independence, you're unlike any lover I've ever had before. You bring out strengths in me I never bothered looking for. When I'm with you I feel like I don't need you... though I must admit it's nice to know you're there watching out for me, someone needs to, since I am totally and utterly hopeless.
I like how we can have such space from each other and not need all that reassurance, not feel that ridiculous jealousy. It's just so nice to be comfortable, with no worries.
Although all this time on my own does make me feel like it's only a matter of time before I fall down a rabbit hole, and as much as I wish I was I'm no Alice, when I fall down that hole I'm not sure I'm going to like what I find.

Don't,
(L)

is planting the seed

I don't have much to say except the usual, I suppose that's the reason for tremendous gappage in posts. I have written several love letters but they don't seem to be able to escape the claws of my spiral bound notepad into the phenomenally expansive world of the inter-web.
I feel out of contact with a lot of the people I love most in this world, they all seem to be dangling over the cliff waiting for me to pull them back to safety... but if you've seen my arms you would know there's not much chance of me pulling them to safety.







Dear missing friend,
i love you
I want to see fast and furious with you...
who else?
just you.

a seat for two?
(L)




Dear missing friend,
i love you
I want to watch skins with you, eat cupcakes...
Dance in the rain?

Just me and just you.
(L)




Dear missing friend,
i love you
Lets have coffee's and cuddles?
goonies and giggles?

I miss everything about you,
(L)




Dear missing friend,
i love you
Tell me a story, about badminton in the backyard? or guitar sessions in bed? Tell me a story about my missing friend.

There's too much room in my bed.
(L)




Dear missing friend,
i love you
Where's my adventure buddy? where's my tea and talks?
where's my practical jokes?

where's my banana fantana?
(L)




Dear missing friend,
i love you
I want pinches and punches. I want you to make me cry and make me smile. I want sweet nothings. I want nothing.

?
(L)




Dear missing friend,
i love you
where are you? Why am I all alone?
Where's my cuddles in the night? the smiles in the middle of a fight?

I'm alone and lonely
(L)

puddle jumping

In the middle of the night, lying cold and wet in a puddle of my tears, a stray thought crossed my mind amid the darker more depressing question bubbles floating over my head. I slowly reach up and gently let the bubble come to rest on my palm, taking all possible precautions against its breakage.
Maybe somethings in life are uncontrollable and ridiculously frustrating and confronting for this reason. But if I'm going to hide under my bed in the middle of the night shaking with fear, I'm not going to be hiding from me... not anymore.
I pulled my phone from the dripping puddle that surrounded me and wrote messages of love, to other people, but mainly to me.
And then pop... the thought was gone.






dear self-loathing

i love you
i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you.

now will you please start loving me?

(L)