People let you down.

Life is bigger than us. Life is bigger than petty quarrels and stubborn arrogance. Life is bigger than always needing to be right. Why can’t you see that?
I was you’re first girl and you always liked to remind me. I was there when shit went down and I was the one who listened to tapes of love-struck REM. I was the one that accepted her and loved her and the one who always travelled, went out of my way, filled with excitement to spend time with you and your home.

We used to do everything together. For those moments that we saw each other, you would tell me how much you missed me, crack your lame jokes, tell me stories. You would take me out and we would find things to do. We would stay up late watching your favourite movies that I always loved, or wait up late to that odd hour when stargate or battlestar galactica would be showing. We would fall asleep on the couch at that late hour and I’d wake up with a start to your loud snoring.

You would excitedly show off your new purchases, and fill me in with your surprises for your loved ones. You would tell me everything about your new hobbies and lecture me on your observations of those around us. I enjoyed my time, and you made it special.

Why can’t you see that? Why can’t you see what it was? You’re so caught up in your own pride and your own stubbornness, your constant need to be right, that you’ve pushed all that aside. You can’t bear to think that anyone would grow up and have their own thoughts and their own opinions, that they could think for themselves. According to you, I have a personal vendetta against you, that I always need to doubt you and prove you wrong. I would only suggest that you look in the mirror.
You now constantly state unnecessary comments about how much I hate you, that I’ll get over it when I get over being a teenager. These comments leave me dumbfounded. Can you not see the stupidity in your words?

I have constantly taken my time, my effort, to see you, spend time with you and make this work. I have accepted everything and I have never argued. I have been taken for granted, and treated to a lesser extent as the years go on, but yet, I still kept coming back to you. I could see you drifting away from me, and you losing your effort as the years rolled by and I grew older. But I never listened to the voices of your enemies, whispering in my ear and trying to influence my decisions. I stuck true to you. I was convinced that you were genuine and that it was going to work. That you wanted it to work.
And now you tell me you miss me with a spiteful tone in your voice. Your words hiss with accusations that I’m no longer around and that I have a dislike for you. You never really want to hear my side of the story as your are smothered in your own self-righteousness. Your words are constantly harsh and spiteful, but they’re subtle.
We’ve grown apart to the greatest extent, and according to you, it’s my fault.

It’s been four months since I’ve spoken to you. The last time I had to put down the phone, because I couldn’t deal with your antics on my day of celebration.
I know your lies that you fed me, and I’ve heard the truth in the actions that you kept from me. Blood is thick, and there are others who have realised that life is bigger than this. I know your terrible truths, and I really cannot stand you at the moment, because I cannot deal with the way you’ve cast it all aside and the way your self-righteousness has consumed you (maybe it always has, and i’m only just old enough to realise it, who knows).

But despite this, I want it back. I don’t want you and your pride-consumed self, I want what we were. I want the you that I knew back then. I want you to put in the effort and care once in a while. Care that your first girl is out there and living, to take an interest every once in a while. I miss the days of simplicity, and I miss having you there.
I hate you, and at the moment, I can’t stand you. But I want you.
I want to continue those things we did together, I want to relive the days when you went to the effort to spend time with me, when you didn’t unload your spite on me.
(Is it because we are also her children? I don’t know.)
I want to be able to laugh and joke with you without feeling uncomfortable.
I want to be able to say that there is something that I do with you, something that I can share with others about our times and be proud of.
When will you understand? When will you get over it?

Because I miss it. And as much as it pains me, as much as you pain me, I miss you.

My head feels like it is going to explode.

Fearless on my breath.

apera ad astra.

All I have to say is, really?

life, this is to you.

I'm eating a creamy apple-turnover and drinking tea

fuck you sydney buses.

Human Nature is an odd sort of thing.The way people act, and why people do certain things.

What is it that makes people act the way they do it, and in certain cases, why the hell do they do it?!

Lets look at the trains as a case study.

Cityrail - post-school peak hour. City to wherever you’re off to - out of the city.

The train is full. There is barely enough room for people to cram into the standing areas let alone find a seat. But here arises the questioning of human nature. Why is it that people can be so god-damn selfish on trains?

People who sit at the edge of a three-seater seat, or leave a space in the middle.

Where on earth does the logical reason to do that come from?!

I mean sure, you may feel a little awkward sitting right beside a stranger when you could sit one seat away, but in peak hour traffic, everyone’s sitting next to a complete stranger. The weirdness is removed because you’re action is only allowing someone else to take a seat. Being polite - the common rules of cityrail etiquette.

I mean, is it really that hard to shuffle you’re butt over one measly little space?

And then there are the people who sit at the very edge, or in the middle, and don’t move over when the person next to them leaves. WHY on earth would you not shuffle over to the window seat if that spot has been made available - thus saving that weird and slightly unpleasant feeling for you in having someone awkwardly step over you (and the possibility of being knocked out by some overly-accessorised handbag) and awkwardness and annoyance for another innocent train-rider, who just wants to find a space to get off their feet.

Really, I don’t understand, why would you not move those three inches over. It’s really not that hard!

Yet I sit here on the train, staring at a surprisingly (to me) large number of vacant ‘middle’ spots and watching as the socially braver, take that awkward step to get to a tiny place of relief.

Who knows what people do on trains.

I mean, I’m sitting here facing a whole carriage full of people all going about their ‘training’ in their separate ways. This one lady opposite me I swear just shot me the darkest look when I pulled my laptop out. She’s even still staring me down through those dark, endless sunglasses.

Well, at least that’s the vibe I’m getting - who knows what she’s looking at to be honest, those glasses are as ambiguous as those taunting limousine windows. And again, why wear sunglasses inside a train? It really isn’t bright.

Human nature. It’s an odd thing.

Quite honestly, I sound like the biggest nerd.

I'm studying hard, and extreme brainwork burns calories, yeah?
So Im going to stick to my diet of chocolate biscuits and tea, and I'm going to enjoy those extra large, double choc iced-coffees with cream thank you very much
I don't care what anyone says about it being unhealthy - I don't give a fuck
I've earnt it.

Sitting here with notes, folders, books, cords and booklets spread out in every direction.

rain fall on a tin roof
inside i sit and scribble a haiku
on a napkin from our takeaway thai food


Monday afternoon - cloudy skies.
school work and rain.

Sometimes you need those days when you can hear the rain falling with a splat against the pavement outside and the grey clouds running down your window.
There's something about that feeling of being dry and sheltered by the indoors while the world continues to work around you. The rain will keep on falling, whether you're out there to get wet or not.
And in such cases, you're distanced from it, you can look out on it as you are not part of it, but there are those days when this disconnection is precisely what you want. There's something reflective about the cloudy skies of a monday afternoon.
Books are either piled or sprawled over the table-top surfaces, their sneaky-ness getting you with their passive-agressiveness. Silently they scream at you, and constant, dead-still reminder of what you should be doing.
Except some days, you accept this. Some days you don't even take it to heart, you brush it off and you do what they tell you - you tackle those sneaky devils.
These days breed inspiration, because all you can do is sit inside and watch the world go on - so you do what you can to make your world move, you make your mark and you get it done.

I don't know what everyone thinks of the rain. Does it inspire you or depress you, does it anger you or does it make you lazy.
It mocks you and laughs at you as it knows you're not tempted to interrupt it, to maybe try (and fail) to deny its existance and prevalence. It is what keeps you inside, and keeps you from going out and doing something, anything to make a connection to the outside world.
And so it forces you into a contemplative state, or perhaps a lethargic one. It gives you no choice.
And perhaps this is exactly what we need.

Don't we all need a bit of rain to push us into that which we'd rather avoid?
The reflection, the contemplation, the work or the study.

I say, a rainy can't hurt anyone once in a while.
A rainy day could do you the world of good.
(After all, when are you going to use that falling star?)

So there are these boys, and they think they're BAD.

so it's the season of inspiration.

this is what's inspiring me, and what's occupying my time at the moment.

a constant reminder of what i want and what i am determined to achieve.

On another note, the day of relationships was two days ago.

Cities are full of lush, plump red roses on sparkly long green stems and shopfronts are bursting with red and silver foil-wrapped hearts - a sweet token for your lover.

My sweet token, was a book to capture my personal inspirations. Motivation, much?