Lucky

For English Extension One, we have to write a creative piece. During the trial examinations a story came to me that was nothing like my pre-prepared one. Throwing caution to the winds I wrote it. There are segments which are probably inaccurate, or not polished, but there is still something about this story which is important. So I put it here, a place where hardly anyone will read it, and maybe one day I will do something more with it. If I'm lucky.


I was lucky. Lucky to be alive. Lucky to survive while my friend's were crushed to death, their houses burning. Lucky?

We lived on the outer reaches of Hiroshima, as far from what they now call the Atomic Dome as possible while still being a citizen of Hiroshima. That did not mean the bomb did not affect our area; on either side the houses of our neighbours collapsed inwards as though reaching out to one another in a dying attempt to console each other.

Perhaps it was this that prevented our house from doing the same thing. Perhaps the tremors dissipated before they managed to shatter the wooden supports. My husband built this house, perhaps it was his love, hope and strength that held our home together.

Or perhaps we were just lucky.

I stay here, living in this house. I am old now, and nearly dead. "It is not safe here" they told me. Using words like nuclear radiation, hibakusha, as if I knew. Or cared.

I feel as though if I stay here, watching the city rebuild itself from the ashes and blood of our people, one day I will understand why. I walk through Peace Park once a week. I walk down to the museum where tourists and citizens alike join to search for the truth. I stare at those glass doors and sometimes wonder whether I'd learn anything new, whether one day I'll have the strength to face what may or may not be what I need to know. What may or may not be the truth.

Instead I turn and walk the few metres to where the tree stands. I love this tree. Split down the middle when the bomb dropped, it still stands, bound by cloth that keeps it standing, supported by sticks carved from the flesh of it's brothers.

I too am bound by cloth, the very clothes I wear are the fibres that stitch me together. I too am supported by my brethren-the human kind. Every week when I sit here and watch the people walk through this beautiful park, I leech happiness from them, gaining strength from their curiosity and empathy.

The Peace Bell tolls, again and again. The Peace Bell tolls. It is interesting, I find as I watch. The children run gleefully to the bell, using the rope to ring it as they enjoy the sound it produces. The adults watch, and sometimes when they think nobody is watching they reach out as though to touch it, but they hesitate. I have never seen an adult ring the bell that promotes peace.

Down by the Centigraph where the flame burns eternally for Peace, I squint to see the fire in the sunshine. Barely there, it flickers low and blue, the eternal flame of peace seems as doubtful as the adults.

Walking on to the statue of Sasaki, the girl who thought a thousand paper cranes might heal her, I watch people taking photographs. Next to this memorial are glass cases filled with paper cranes from children all over the world.

I read their names, see photographs of school children everywhere leaning of the bombs that dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki in 1945, and wonder whether they have found the truth I am still searching for.

Soon it will be my turn to move on, leaving this world to the children that seem so eager to forgive, but never forget the misdeeds and mistakes of our generation, to join my husband in the home I know he will have built for us in the next life. One just as strong as the one in this world, only next time he will be in it when the bomb drops.

I walk slowly, like the old woman that I am, back to the Atomic Dome near the entrance of the park. Circling it I feel tempted, as always, to climb over the short fence surrounding it and search for the truth amongst the skeleton the war left behind.

Once on the streetcar home, I readjust my kimono, ignoring the stares of tourists and Japanese alike. As I leave the epicenter behind, my attention refocuses, intent only on getting home.

My worst fear is dying in between the two places I call home. On public transport in the middle of nowhere, surround by only questions and no answers.

I feel at my neck for the fine chain that carries a lock of my daughter's and my husband's hair. One of the hibakusha girls, she left for America for an operation that would better her life, but instead ended it. Just another event in my life that has left me wondering, why me? Why am I so lucky?

In my eyes she is getting clearer every day, waiting with her father in our new home for the day I finally die. No longer does she appear to me as the deformed young woman who I last saw being herded onto a plane for America. Now she appears to me as my own sweet little girl with the abnormally wavy hair that tumbled around her small face.

I see her as she was, when life made sense and I had no questions. I see her as she was before life decided to make me lucky.

An Ode to Love

I was sent a poem today, a wonderful beginning to a brand new day. I think it's beautiful and clever, especially because it holds different interpretations dependent on the reader. Either time or genius went into this, and whichever it was, both are highly valued. That aside, this poem was meant for me, and it warms my heart, I hope it brightens your day too.

An ode to love

To Love is a many sided thing
It can make one smile
It can make one sting
It can make can make you feel immeasurable relief
It can bring crushing waves
Of grief
It can make you laugh and cry and sing
Because Love is a many sided thing

To see love can both confuse and elate
You may imagine your own
Or curse your fate
You may use your heart to pull its half nearer
You may open your eyes, and see yourself even clearer
You may look to change to better suit your other
You may gaze inwards and wonder
Why bother?
It can build and break and sear and sate
Because to see Love
Can both confuse, and elate

But to be loved is the greatest feeling of all
It can stock you up
It can slow your fall
It can fill you with words that cant be expressed
It can provide you with actions to match those words best
It will serve you better than any mere object
Because its life force will fuel you, and forever protect
Its fiber will bind you, tighter than steel
You will work in symmetry, like the ring of a wheel
Your thoughts will be those of freedom and bliss
Even in short moments alone
You will sorely be missed
It can heal and affix and assure and call
Because to be loved, is the greatest feeling of all

And then

There is us

Our love is a story without match
You are my porcelain angel
My wondrous catch
Your clear voice breaks my ice like the chime of a bell
A mere second without you, is a moment in hell
Our bond is so strong we could hold back the world
Let them try
Let them push
While our fingers remain furled
You are my princess whose hair shines as bright as the sun
Whose thoughts and movements leave me stunned
Your eyes are so deep i could dive from above
And still be able
To float down on our Love
My world, my heart, my soul, my jewel
To attempt to describe you with mere words...
I'm not a poet
I'm a fool.

The Last Hug.

I found this today while I was going through my files on my computer searching for SOMETHING to do with the shit that I need to study for tomorrow. Didn't find much so I got distracted, but the weird thing is I definitely don't remember writing this, it's about Bella, my grandparents dog.

I feel like I never got to say goodbye
They told me you'd gone and I was unbelieving
Months passed, years passed
I forgot you were gone
Then one day I thought of how you died
And realised I never gave you that last hug
I wish I could have smiled more often
Laughed and played with you
Come to visit
But I came to you when I was sad
And cried until my tears ran dry
Maybe you thought you made me sad
When you made my life worth living
You made your way over to me
Curious, worried
You stayed with me until all the pain was done
I want you to know
You made me smile
Laugh
Now you're gone
Nothing can assuage me

I am the world

I am the world
The tectonic plates inside me
Are shifting

Molten lava at my core
Running through my veins
Looking for the cracks

No, I feel like, a galaxy
The suns around me
Become black dwarves

Around me stars suffer
Gravitational collapse
Now nothing
Can escape
The spacetime curvature

You are locked in my universe
Alone with me but
Surrounded by everything
Catching the tears that fall from my eyes

In a vial, a testube
We're drowned by my tears
Free from the make believe world we're in
We explode, shattering the universe into a million pieces

We roll on the shards
Feeling them cutting our flesh
Tearing our skin
Embedding themselves
Until we screech to a halt
The glass rasping against the floor

One way, or another

I think it's much harder to write now that I'm more happy. It always felt like I was channeling some inner melancholy when I was writing especially well, however-I will see if I can fall into it.

There is something inside I need to write, I'm just not sure what it is yet...some poem? Not quite, but definitely not a story...a description of sorts...of what though? Hmm.

It was like watching my heart be torn out, paralysed and unable to move.
Smiling and waving I watched you step on it, again and again.
You opened it's chambers with the heel of your shoe,
I noticed there were different tints to the blood
As my head caved in and I succumbed to myself.

Okay, so that wasn't what I had to write, that just came out of nowhere. Better out than in, I guess.

This is so highly frustrating, knowing there is something I need to tell you, something...and I just can't seem to...remember.

Well, I think I'm a little distracted at the moment. There are other thoughts predominant in my mind...exams are coming up, and I've barely started studying, not that I'm stressed. But I feel a bit like a waste of space, of time...I'm not very useful. I'm not GOOD at anything, you see these people that can create incredible artistic masterpieces, and people who can perform to such a degree that they become another person...people who can play a sport at the highest level, people with ambitions...incredible writers or mathematical geniuses...I don't have that kind of drive. I just want one thing, I want a family.

They say when you know you can't have something you want it more than ever, maybe this is true. But I know that ever since I was a young 'un myself I've wanted to have children. Since they told me that would be close to impossible for me, it's become more than just a normal womanly, natural desire to have. It's close to becoming an obsession. Logically, unemotionally-I know this is probably due to psychological aspects such as believing myself to be unworthy, to be faulty, to be unfulfilled, abnormal etc. However, the fact is that my heart aches, it really just burns...every night I dream, I dream of the future, happy days where I have my handsome husband and gorgeous children, and nightmares where everything I fear most comes to pass; I get pregnant, miscarriage, or give birth, the child dies, or finally everything works out and I lose the love of my life...

Neither type of these dreams are good, the happy ones make me wake up in tears because I know they aren't true, and the awful ones leave me with a dull hopelessness that sits in my chest all day...I'm only young and already I'm researching all the different ways I might achieve having little children of my own, the medications I could take, the technology available...everything is so expensive though, why can't I just have a baby normally? When so many teenagers fall pregnant and get a fucking abortion, I can't hope to even have that one day in my life?

This last week these thoughts have been plaguing me more than usual, although at the same time I've been more cheerful. See, I finally found a drive, finally found something I could actually do and be proud and happy of...something I could be good at. I'm going to find a way to unite more children with women that want them.

You all want to be famous artists, novelists, basketballers, diplomats, singers, actors...I just want to be a mother.

Graveyard Shift

It's been a while since I wrote. It feels a little as though I've forgotten how...Let's give it a go.

I cut my hair last night...I wanted a change, I always do. That usually means a new piercing or a hair colour change or a cut. I knew Mum would kill me if I dyed my hair again so soon though, and I'm not sure my hair could take it either, I'll have to wait a few months. In the meantime I still have my ears to complete. I'll have to wait to get my nose done until I leave home I think, it would upset my Mum a lot. I really want my eyebrow done but Rob doesn't really like the idea...so I've thought recently there's no point ruining my face in the eyes of the person I want to be with forever.

Anyway, there's heaps more piercings along the way and I can change my mind at any point. Unfortunately Marika's also sparked an interest in me about tattoo's, watching Kat von D's show has made me see how incredible some of them can look. But I'd want one that really means a lot, and I would want it on my back, to try and avoid tackiness. I'd love to incorporate wolf into the design, I have a few ideas but until I have it just right there's no way I'm going to consider it. It's so much more permanent than a little hole in your nose that won't completely heal over.

I think my writing style has changed, and I'm not sure I like it. Then again I have a small hangover and I'm exhausted from last night. Last night was Sean's 17th Birthday Party, he's Ariel's boyfriend. I didn't end up sleeping until 2am, and I woke up this morning at 9...time to begin my Legal Studies Project...soon.

So I was feeling tired last night before I went to the party but I took some vitamins and a fuckload of coffee laced with vodka and had my shower, cut my hair, took the old nailpolish off and went about choosing an outfit.

I hate getting changed, it's so much effort-especially during Winter. Not only do you have to look good-ish, but you have to stay warm, and plus I had to fit the dress code. In the end I fulfilled the "shirt and tie" requirements but not exactly the "semi-formal" dress code. Oh well I was reasonably warm during the night.

I met Ariel at the top of my street and we caught the bus to Ana's house, where we finished getting ready. We tried to talk Ana out of her outfit but in the end all she did was cut the buttons off her dress...which improved it quite a bit. With the black coat and boots and nice stockings it ended up looking good. Ariel looked incredible in a black velvet dress and the sexiest net stockings ever.

Ariel did her hair while Ana stole her cupcake beanie and then I did my hair and stole some of Ana's earrings to wear becaue I'd forgotten my own. I was wearing a white shirt with a pink, black and white striped tie and some grey tights that looked like jeans. Oh and black boots, and a black trench coat...of course.

Daniella's Mum picked us up, and we found our way over to Sean's, whereapon Ana there and then decided that by the end of the night she had to have visited the graveyard. I agreed to ensure her dream was fulfilled and with Ana struggling to text her mother the address we went inside.

I'll stop here because not everything is mine to tell and I have no way of knowing who will read this. Also my head is too slow to come up with a method of explaining the night without using names or making it obvious who is who. If it is possible I will attempt this at a later date. Until then, live long and prosper.
Kitty ;)

Lonely and Alone

Hi guys. Thanks for reading my stuff. Thanks for trying to get to know me better. Thanks for being my friends and thanks for doing your best by me. But I can't keep this up. Right now writing about what I think and feel is not something I think any of you would appreciate reading. I guess I'll start again once I can, but right now I don't have much of a life to speak of. Everything I thought was going to be my future now isn't. No I exaggerate. i still have my family, my school, my friends. I just don't have me, or my other half anymore. I hope maybe this will change some day. But any purpose I've had in my life, the purpose I gained a year 2 months and 25 days ago is gone. I don't feel like I'm me anymore, I guess I never really worked myself out, I just tried to become a better person for the sake of a relationship, not for my own.

Turns out I need to work on that, and become a better person for the sake of my own soul, and nobody elses. So if you see me sitting in a corner with no life to speak of, that's what I'm doing. No really, I need to work harder at school, I need to be more helpful to my friends, I need to be more kind and loving to the family I have that doesn't hate us. I don't know where any of this will lead, but hopefully I'll become a better person, and hopefully this means one day if my love takes me back I'll be more worthy than I am now.

I thought about giving up. About letting myself go and becoming trash like I was. But I won't self destruct again. I had the best year of my entire life, and I learned so much from it, I need to put those lessons into use and learn even more. I might feel empty inside, and these words are all coming from me without any thought put into them, but somehow I have to find a way to truly apologise, to truly change and to truly show I've learned.

Life is littered with mistakes, we just have to learn from them and noone can expect anything else of us. Of course the weak make more mistakes than the strong, but we each have our own weaknesses...mine being loneliness. I hate being alone, even though sometimes I hate being around people that just aren't attuned to my mood. But there's a difference between alone and lonely I suppose, and most of the time I'm surrounded by people and I just couldn't feel more of the latter. Right now, I'm both. Part of me is missing and nothing in the world is a replacement for what I have lost.

I will wait and learn and pray and try, and hopefully one day I will regain trust. Because I know a loss like this can never be forgotten, it's not something I can just "get over" I can't just "move on". A true friendship has awful moments, but true friends also eventually forgive, even if they never forget. I had what I thought was the truest friendship of my life, an eternal best friend...and I ruined it.

A lesson I learned today in moving on from grief was profound to me. My mother was telling me about her move from Cuba when she was 8 years old. Her father had just been released from jail, where he'd been held captive for some years speaking against Castro, leaving my grandmother to care for and provide for my mother and her brother. My mum left her toys, clothes, favourite plate and home behind, but she also left behind friends, family, and everything to which she belonged. This wasn't just a holiday, it wasn't a carefully considered relocation, my mother and her family had no choice but to leave their home country...and everything else behind. All of this made me sad-I who have lived in the same house since the day I was brought back from the hospital. I can't imagine leaving the bed I love so much, let alone my school friends and my aunt and cousins, however distant I am from them. I can't imagine losing all I have come to know as my life, and facing life in, as it turned out for my mother-Spain. Not so different you may think, but it was loss that made the change so strange.

My mother remembers her sadness about leaving her family and friends behind, but what made her cry in front of me tonight was remembering her pet. Her 4 year old dog, Joli, had been sent ahead of the family from Cuba to Spain. Upon her arrival she was told her father's sister had sold the dog to provide them with money to get by. A year later when my mother and her brother were crying uncontrollably for their dearly beloved Jolie, my grandfather decided to tell them the reason they could not buy her back, as much as they all wanted to-for my grandfather loves dogs, and would see their loss as that of a family member. Jolie had been sold to a lady, as far as my mother can gather for the mess of lies her different relatives told her, and soon after had died of sadness. She hadn't been happy in her new home and soon enough, despite her young age, she passed away. My mother cried harder as she spoke, telling me what a good dog Jolie was...and how she wished she had her.

This is 40 years later and my mother is crying over the loss of a childhood pet. This is how I know some wounds don't heal. And the gaping hole left inside me from the loss of, however cruel this may sound, someone far more meaningful to me than any pet, will never close over. At least my mother can cry in my arms over her loss, with this loss I will never have a child to cry to.

I may have gone a little off topic, but all of this is what is close to my heart. My family-who up until recently meant my mother, father, brother, my grandparents, my auntie and my uncle, my cousins...and Robert Armitage. I would so love for you to be my family again Rob.

Please my love, forgive me, give me a second chance and I will never fail you. You are my life and my purpose, you are everything to me.

I find that...

Slowly, wearily he wandered through this strange and never ending maze. The walls were not lush green hedges like those of a typical maze. No, these walls were made of stronger, and weaker, substance. The walls writhed in anguish, tormented by unseen forces, some of the undulations pressing forcefully against his sides.

He wondered whether the walls would eventually constrict entirely, and if so, would he be crushed before he could suffocate to death? Step by step he ventured deeper and closer to the heart of this unusual entanglement. Tendrils were stretching forth to greet and envelop him, soon he no longer had to walk as they pulled him gently forwards.

When he saw the dark pit in the center of the maze, he leaned forwards and took a closer look at it, nodding sagely. Closing his eyes, with his hand over his heart he extricated himself from his imagination.

Now he sits somberly alone at the desk in his well lit study, pondering his findings. He considered them from every angle, and then considered them some more. Finally, after hours over analysis and investigation, he released a sigh and relaxed heavily into his armchair. "I am depressed" he uttered aloud, unreservedly amazed.

And indeed he was.

I feel like I'm floating but I'm being dragged down
I feel like I'm ready to fly
But I have your shackles on my wings

I feel like I'm falling but you're holding me up
I feel like I'm ready to drown
But I can't forget how to swim

One day I'll reach inside
One day I'll see
One day I'll finally be me.

Him

Forgoe normality and swallow reality
Allow your heart to venture down its chosen path

There is a man, born from the shadows that melt seamlessly into the light which shines from the slowing train.
Standing against the wall, only the burning glow of his cigarette dangling precariously from his invisible lips is visible.
He soundlessly inhales the acidic smoke into his lungs, allowing it to fill him with the possibility of an early death, before slowly-powerfully-releasing the smoke back into an unforgiving world.
Trains arrive and leave the station, passengers trickling on or off, the number dying as the night ages.
A watcher would have though he was waiting for a tardy passenger to alight. A watcher would have been wrong...

To Be Continued...

My head is light. Am I happy?
My heart is heavy. Something isn't right.
I feel as though I'm missing something.
Some piece of information just beyond my grasp.

I feel as though I am listening to the white noise of suspense.
I feel as though I am tasting blood from a broken heart.
I feel as though I am touching the velvety fringes of mystery.
I feel as though I can smell souls going up in flames.
I feel as though I can speak and my words will never exist.

Home is where the heart is.
Hell is where the mind is.
But Heaven may yet be reached.

Dream Girl

My dream girl would be perfect. OBVIOUSLY.

She would be my height, maybe a little taller or shorter, but no more than a couple of inches.

She would have hair past her shoulders, it would be soft and curly and smell nice. It could be any colour of the rainbow as far as I'm concerned:Brown, black, blonde, red, purple, silver. But not green.

She would have honest eyes, where I could see how she was truly feeling no matter what she said. I would be able to both fall into those eyes and also be held at a distance by their intensity. They too could be any colour although hazel eyes are gorgeous. Those eyes would look up at me smiling, full of laughter. But she wouldn't be afraid to let me see them full of tears and deep sorrow when she needed me there to hold her. When she is angry at me sparks will fly and her whole face will catch alight with her emotion. She will not need to stomp her feet because the burning of her glare would be her most powerful weapon.

Together we would fight like wildcats, exchanging spitting words and vindictive howls. Both of us, full of simmering anger that cannot be extinguished with haste. Eventually calming in our own manners, alone. Coming together for forgiveness and apologies. Accepting, forgiving, but never forgetting.

Her mouth would be small but full, so soft and sweet to kiss that our mouths melt together as we gently cup each others faces and sigh. Her teeth would be hard as they bite my lip in passion, her tongue warm and sensuous as we drown in each others taste.

The rest of her body, warm, long, smooth. She would be slender, she would be more energetic than I. She would tease me with her ability to outrun and outlaugh me.

Around others she would be restrained, bubbling energy hidden in every movement she makes. Slowly understanding my circle of friends, slowly loving them as I do. Soon with them too she would be displaying her quick wit, her sharp humour and her cheeky way of thinking. She would be smarter than I in most areas, leaving me only a few to excel at. She wouldn't hesitate to share her knowledge and our conversations would be interesting and full of genuinity.

We would make love slowly and passionately, pleasuring each other gently and lovingly, unafraid of emotions, feeling no urge to rush.

We would make love wildy and roughly, taking what we wanted without restraint and panting over each others bodies, desperate to reach the high state of climax we achieve together.

We would fall asleep in each others arms, limbs entangled and warm. Moving closer in our sleep to hold each other and whisper our love. We would wake up slowly together, stroking one another's hair from our eyes and leaning forwards to steal a goodmorning kiss.

We would each have friends of our own, but slowly through our growing trust and love, they would all get to know each other. We might not all get on, we might fight, but such is the way of all good friendships, so long as they heal.

She might have another lover, hopefully a man. I myself would have my own. We would discuss, help and understand each other, leaving no room or time for discontent. Maybe one day we would share our individual lovers, maybe one day we will leave each other.

But we would always, always stay the best of friends.

Big Weekend Out

The last few days have been awesome, despite the will of certain failing people to make EVERYTHING fail.

Weighing up the good stuff, I think it still wins. Despite a night in the pouring rain, a morning after little sleep, and getting into about 5 seperate fights with the same amount of people.

Friday was meant to be the open day for Chinese New Year, but due to the rain all the plans to celebrate Ana's birthday in cohesion fell apart. Certain people left other good people who were doing the right thing by waiting for the birthday girl, and left those good people carrying their GOON for a few hours. Those certain people should be very happy that the goon was not dumped or drunk. But instead certain of these certain people are instead choosing to be...difficult. Oh well :)

The night was spent in wanderings, drinkings and rainings. I wish OTHER people (who are not the "Certain" people) could have been persuaded to stay inside the bar until the rain lessened...which it DID. I have also come to conclusion of never drinking that amount again when a pretty decent amount of walking will be required.

I had a pretty damn good night in the end thanks to Ana, Soph and Roy. Daniella...you make life difficult with your claims of clubbing powah. And then making it more suss than sucking dick. Thankyou very much to Dom who stayed up and sheltered Roy from the wild world. And thanks to me for getting up early to fetch him ;)

Saturday was better than Friday. Probably because it didn't require getting soaked through to the skin. And probably because I could walk very capably. I'm sure those are the only reasons Saturday was any fun. Hope the people who ended up going to Reclaim the Lanes last night haven't caught their death. Or that at least they decided 2 nights of pouring rain was too fail to consider.

Happy Valentine's Day everyone :) I woke up to a very pretty rose outside my door. And I was up late enough last night to get my only "Happy Valentine's Day". Live life my way. It's goooood.

Not to mention the present I recieved on Friday -.- Sigh. -facepalm- doesn't even cover it.

A recap; the last few days, Friday through to Sunday (today) have included these events: Friday, fake Valentine's Day at school, Ana's Birthday, Fail open day of Chinese New Year and To Write Love on Her Arms Day. Saturday, kiss on the lips and not the cheek day, Reclaim the Lanes. Today, Valentine's Day, the true Chinese New Year.

I love many of you, respect most of you, and trust one of you.
Bai for now.
xoxo

Dithargia, to be or not to be.

You know that feeling like you're in a bubble...people are talking, yelling, screaming, you might be working in class, sitting on a bus or walking down the street...but it's like they aren't really getting through to you. You hear them, you see them, you smile and laugh and do all that you must because society dictates its the go. You aren't depressed, you aren't crying on the inside and covering it up. It's just a huge effort to respond to people because you're content to watch the world go past. You aren't exactly empty inside, it's more as though you are full...but full of emptiness. It has substance in this state.

You do know this feeling?

It's like someone has injected a local anaesthetic into my little bubble...writing this isn't triggering emotion...it is merely fact. I am not melancholy nor am I depressed or lethargic. It goes deeper...or sideways maybe.

One has to become a master at masking the signs of this dithargia. This is the name I have given this strange feeling, as one may suggest it is a combination of depression and lethargia. If one does not mask the signs, all kinds of assumptions will be made about oneself. The first few times it is difficult to hide. A certain blankness of the face and of reaction may be detected, possibly less laughs but also less frowns. Less reactions after insults have been cast. Overall it is a safe place to be, this dithargia, unless detected.

Once detected meetings with psychologists or school councillers might be put in place, parents may ensure eating habits are healthy and no strange sounds come from the bathroom after, friends may edge away, or report strange behaviour. Dithargia, once put under this stress, no longer copes as such, instead this benign state of mind leads to what is known as depression.

Only "under pressure" does this usually occur. One may say that opposed to the everyday ups and downs of life, dithargia is a "happy" place to be. It is certainly more hassle free. Unfortunately it may also lead to incompleted homework, unanswered text messages and poor exam results. However if carefully managed the outside body may continue to process the delicacies of every day life while the mind and soul remain unoppressed within the warm walls of the human psyche.

Expertise must be achieved to experience the perfect state of mind where effort is no longer required to keep the sack of intestines, arteries, bones and other necessary innards functioning as per the norm. This allows full relaxation to occur. It does still however complicate human relations, the closer the relationship is the more the person may realise they are dealing with a content yet partially absent drone. In a situation such as this dithargia is difficult to maintain without losing the one's closest to you, however if you have achieved full dithargic state this should not be a problem to you.

You are the weakest link.
Goodbye.

Testing, 1, 2, 3

3rd day of Year 12...3rd day lucky?

Only had 4 classes and still managed to lose focus. I ended the day with pen on my arms to reveal the intense focus of my classmates during school as well as 3 beautiful sketches of the animals I would love to be and 1 new shitty poem...and what have I learnt? That if I don't hop on the HSC train soon I'm going to miss my flight at the next station :(

I think school should bring back naptime, bring back the better times of sleeping on the floor and getting rewarded with lollies if we behaved. I would definitely focus harder in the hopes of achieving a few smarties.

My 1-year long boyfriend has left the country for a better place (Japan) and he's teaching English there for a year. I have so much spare time on my hands now that I'm not texting him, msning him or on the phone with him, it feels strange. Yet why should I use this time wisely...instead I believe the best thing to do is add these hours to my time lolling around the floor reading books and pouring water over my clothes to cool down...and of course, my facebook hours.

Seriously I guess I should pick up some new skillz in my spare time...I might start the long desired Latin dancing lessons on Thursday nights. But these days who gets to show off any expertise in that style unless they're good enough to be on tv? Maybe I should just improve my stepping :(

My...amazing...friends have decided to go clubbing this weekend, which is going to FAIL, because they always fail. As usual I'll probably be the anti-social one who stays at home but ends up avoiding a shitty night and doing something useful with their time (AKA, watching Family Guy with my brother). I think I need to go out though, I've been taking some weird anti stress medication pretty much hourly just to stop myself from going into a vegetable state of depression and I need to wake up to the way life is going to be from now on.

Schoolies at the end of the year? No thankyou. I have better plans.

xoxo
Me