in⋅spi⋅ra⋅tion
–noun
1. an inspiring or animating action or influence: I cannot write poetry without inspiration.
2. something inspired, as an idea.
3. a result of inspired activity.
4. a thing or person that inspires.
5. Theology. a.
a. divine influence directly and immediately exerted upon the mind or soul.
b. the divine quality of the writings or words of a person so influenced.
6. the drawing of air into the lungs; inhalation.
7. the act of inspiring; quality or state of being inspired.
Synonyms:
1. stimulus, incitement.

in·spi·ra·tion
1.
1. Stimulation of the mind or emotions to a high level of feeling or activity.
2. The condition of being so stimulated.
2. An agency, such as a person or work of art, that moves the intellect or emotions or prompts action or invention.
3. Something, such as a sudden creative act or idea, that is inspired.
4. The quality of inspiring or exalting: a painting full of inspiration.
5. Divine guidance or influence exerted directly on the mind and soul of humankind.
6. The act of drawing in, especially the inhalation of air into the lungs.

Home alone, and I have to say it is awesome. Only because I am sick and it means that I get to wallow in my own self pity and not be made to do anything seeing as standing up is not in my strong points at the moment.
I had a delirious moment this morning where I didn't know what day it was, and I had no idea if I had taken my medication or not. Thank God for phones with dates, and days written on the medication packets, otherwise I would have been screwed. It's scary when shit like that happens though, not having any idea what day it is and what you are supposed to be doing, or have done.
I would like to think that I am feeling better than yesterday, but I think that it could be a sham.
It rained this morning, maybe nothing huge, but it was nice. We are so in need of rain, we will be for a long time, so every time it rains a little bit of me rejoices, not only because I love rain, but because I know that we need it, desperately.
I've been watching Sound Relief, which so far has been good. It's amazing that we are all coming together for this, we have raised obscene amounts of money in a short amount of time, and it shows how much we support each other. It is also amazing that so many bands are reforming just for this, for this cause, for their country and their fans. This has been the worst disaster(s) that Australia has seen and it is good to know that we have the capacity to raise and react so quickly and well.
I was just informed, although I can be sure how reliable this is to be perfectly honest, that all the fires are out. If it is true than I am more than happy, them being contained would have been equally as amazing, but them being out, that is just such good news. Now we can focus on rebuilding.
I have decided that the Gerard Way quote I used in that picture is one that I love. I think the message is something that so many people need to hear.
I am contemplating an afternoon nap, but I don't think it will help me later on tonight when I need to sleep. It's like being caught between a rock and a hard place.

I don't care what you think.
I don't care what you do.
I have to remember that this is you.
This is your life.
That is their life.
I am not in control of everything.
I can't control everything.
I have to let the mistakes happen.
Even if it means you all fall flat on your faces.

Thanks for the heads up.
It's nice to know that you can move on so quickly.
I guess it wasn't love after all.

I am beginning to lose faith in the human race.
I'm not looking for any happy endings.
I don't want anyone to know I existed.

i need to buy a camera. end of story.

It's strange how faces can change things. How faces grow with age, with emotion, with time.
If we could go back, would you want to?

reading list:
persusion - jane austen
northanger abbey - jane austen
the plague of doves - jane austen
sense and sensibility - jane austen
jane eyre - charlotte bronte
the great gatsby - f. scott fitzgerald
the picture of dorian grey - oscar wilde
the knight - gene wolfe
the folk of the faraway tree - enid blyton
the wind-up bird chronicles - haruki murakami
angela carter's book of fairytales - angela carter

i had a strange dream last night. it was something that has me questioning the way my mind works.
in my dream last night, i was back in my old hometown, only it wasn't that anymore. it was like the same setting, but a new name.
i was the new shiny object at school, i can't remember if it was university or highschool, although with the way i was able to skip out on classes it must have been university with my old school uniforms? either way, it was weird.
anyway, i had a few friends, but the majority of the school ignored me. except the football team, cliche to the max i swear. anyway, they made fun of me, for some reason.
anyway. i got the bus home from scchool one day, and i decided that i needed to stop of at mc donalds or kfc to get some food. i don't know why, because that is not normally something i do, ever.
anyway, a guy from the football team followed me. it's funny because throughout this whole dream, he did not get named, he remained nameless while everyone else seemed to be dubed with a name.
anyway, i started to panic and get scared. so i skipped the food and went straight on home. or at least tried to.
he cornered me, and decieded that he wanted some. i fought back to the best of my ability, but he was physically stronger than me. it felt so real, i was kicking, screaming, scratching, yelling, i was doing everything i could to fight him off but nothing worked. no one bothered to come to my rescue, even though we were suddenly out the front of a police station.
he raped me and got away with it.
my crazy dream didn't end here though. my head tells me that i would be depressed and shit after this, but i barely was, i stayed away from school for two days and then went back and pretended nothing happened. i even avoided him like he avoided me.
cue four months later and i find out i am pregnant. in the drama of the dream, it took me forever to tell him because he was avoiding me like i was avoiding him.
anyway, i ended up moving out of home and getting my own appartment. where i found the money to do all this i don't know.
i continued to go to school as if being pregnant was not something that would make that hard.
in some form of complicated soap operah, me and this so called boy, managed to kind of make things up and i was determined to let him be part of the childs life. the child ended up being a boy i called david.
by the end of the dream, we were together and the rape had been tossed aside as being fine.
i don't understand how my mind works, because i don't care fo the circumstances, i would not be so willing to forgive anyone who betrayed me like that. or abused me like that.
needless to say i think my mind is fucked up.
i could dream about anything, and i dream about that.

i hate that i can't see the beauty in anything anymore.
everything is sucha chore.
the things i love are fading.
the ones that care are spacing.

we are invin(s)cible

i love (not) being normal.
little things make bigger things when we leave them undone.
i'm in love with being alone.
i am in awe of the darkness.
i am filled with "i wish" and "what if".
i used my last wish on a falling star.
childlike innocence and false pretences.
i'm pretending i just don't care.
i'm (not) so stuck.
i'm sinking.
back to where i was before.
this time i feel like i am not going to make it.

why i love movies.

"When King Lear dies in Act V, do you know what Shakespeare has written? He's written "He dies." That's all, nothing more. No fanfare, no metaphor, no brilliant final words. The culmination of the most influential work of dramatic literature is "He dies." It takes Shakespeare, a genius, to come up with "He dies." And yet every time I read those two words, I find myself overwhelmed with dysphoria. And I know it's only natural to be sad, but not because of the words "He dies." but because of the life we saw prior to the words.
I've lived all five of my acts, Mahoney, and I am not asking you to be happy that I must go. I'm only asking that you turn the page, continue reading... and let the next story begin. And if anyone asks what became of me, you relate my life in all its wonder, and end it with a simple and modest "He died."...
Your life is an occasion. Rise to it."

"All stories, even the ones we love, must eventually come to an end and when they do, it's only an opportunity for another story to begin."

"Great. Well done. Now we wait. "
"No. We breathe. We pulse. We regenerate. Our hearts beat. Our minds create. Our souls ingest. 37 seconds, well used, is a lifetime. "

i'm (not) so stuck (on you)

i feel so disconnected from everything and everyone
i don't seem to care anymore,
once again.
i can't be the advice giver, the shoulder, the arms to run to
i'm just not there anymore
distance is supposed to make everything better, make me love you more
somehow nothing works the way it should
counting it down

Detox Just to Retox

I had a horrible night, something that has not happened to me in such a long time. I cried to myself, pressed alone in the dark corner, again sliding down the shower wall, water mixed with tears, everything drowned out.
I’ve got troubled thoughts and self esteem to match...
You’ll never catch us so just let me be...
I have been living in a bubble, a bubble where I pretend everything is so fine, everything is okay, that I am making progress, that I am achieving something, but it is all just bullshit.
I saw a movie today, something that wasn’t supposed to hit me in the way that it did. It was supposed to be some stupid teenage drama movie, but instead it had me crying and realising how selfish I am.
Some people spend their lives complaining about everything that is wrong in their lives, about every mistake ever made, they find something to make everything else seem bad, they look for their own unhappiness. There are some people who delude themselves into thinking that they actually live a life and are doing the ‘right’ and ‘normal’ things, but denying themselves their own happiness because it wouldn’t be ‘acceptable’. There are some people who don’t get to live for very long, and those people who get the raw end of the deal tend to live a better life than anyone who is given more years than they probably deserve.
I am one of ‘those’ people, I have a hard time being happy, I try to make myself decide what my perfect life would be, but I can’t. I am so selfish, I have all this time and here I am wasting it. Here I am unable to make myself get out of bed, unable to leave the house, too tired to do anything, too unmotivated to go to university, and there they are, doing everything they can to make every moment last.
It frustrates me that I have this stupid fucking gift, this life, and I am wasting it. I can’t decide what to do with it, and for the most of it I am depressed. I can’t seem to get past that, I just seem to be going in circles, I have no direction and every time I try I fail.
I look at this depression and I don’t find any solution or any cause. I haven’t been abused, I was never raped, I was barely bullied, I have such a charmed life in comparison to others who don’t suffer this stupid illness. I don’t see why I have it, I don’t understand why I can have all this stupid stuff, this amazing family, these supportive friends, and yet I am depressed. It makes no sense. I don’t feel like I am in a league worthy of feeling this way because so many people are worse off than me.
I can barely keep this charade up any longer. I get better to get worse, and right now I can feel myself just going through the motions but falling off the wagon. The worst part is I can never see an ending, I can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel, all I can see is this pit of never ending darkness, and I think all of this is me giving up hope that I will one day be ‘normal’. Sometimes I feel like I’d give anything not to be like this, but I don’t want to compromise being me, I just don’t want to be like this anymore.
All the mothers raised their babies to stay away from me...
The lives we lived are only golden plated...
I knew all the lights of the city were too heavy for me...
I so desperately want my life to amount to something so much more than it is, I want it to be easier than it has been. I want to be able to get out of bed, to freely walk down the street without wishing that I was in a dark room alone because I don’t feel like being around anyone who is smiling because I feel so pathetically dead inside.
I so desperately wish I could be able to keep studying, three times and I’m out, I can’t go through it again. I can’t put myself through that stress when I know that I will fall back down and not be able to do it. I tried, I try, yet I still fail, I still can’t get to class, I still feel uneasy in that place, no matter who it is that is sitting next to me.
I have no direction anymore. In high school it was easy to fake it, it was easy to pretend that I was okay, but now everything is so much harder. It is so much harder to pretend that I am okay, that I can do something when I know that if I wasn’t pushing myself so god damn hard all the time I wouldn’t have even tried.
I need this deliberating weight to be lifted off my shoulders but it feels like it is only getting heavier. I swim in circles, and it is slowly breaking me down. I feel like each time I go back it might be my last. I don’t know how long I can keep going up and down, I don’t know how long I can go through these emotions without snapping in the worst possible way.
I’m loosing faith in everything, and for the worst part, in myself. I don’t feel like I can do this anymore, I feel like I am loosing grip.

harry potter seriously is brilliant.

"...is that a student?"

"technically it is a ferret"

good times right there.

lady luck

there is something beautiful in the innocence of children.
they are the one thing that stop me from taking myself too seriously because they are the ones that are constantly reminding me to laugh at all the silly things, and more importantly, to laugh at myself.
got lost inside a song.
found my way back to want to do it again.
little boy blue, has a battle wound the size of his body, a scar worth a story,
crying for attention in an empty room.
childhood seems so long ago.