Vast.

For all that was lost,
For all that was gained,
For the plans that were made,
And the the dreams we held close,
For the lives that we changed,
And the ones that changed ours,
For the people that left,
The people that stayed,
And the ones who let us down,
Or where we found help in unexpected places,
For the longest dark nights,
And the brightest of days,
The times we thought we wouldn’t get through,
And the highs from which we thought we’d never come down.
For the things misplaced,
And the hope we found.
For all of this,
We’re still here.
Smiling and laughing and crying and aching.
Breathing and living.
Feeling and loving.

So here we are.

Look at me with those eyes that assure me I'm safe.
Listen with understanding ears.
Breathe in this air in time with me.
Say the words that tell me I'm home.
Hold my hand so I know I'm not alone.
Make me believe.

'For miles to come.'

For all this time you've been running,
You've barely moved an inch.
Now you're asking them to make mountains move,
When you can't even move your own molehills
To fill in the potholes you keep stumbling over.

Dear you.

Well done.
Managing once again to make a mess of things.
It's really quite impressive.
But you should try to not do that.
At least, some of the time.

"If his was more than just a vague ambition, if he was absolutely determined to discover the truth, there's no way we could prevent him."

Even if it sucks, at least it's real.  At least there are people who care and won't just leave.
At least it's life.
It's everything.

It's not a lie.  It may not be the truth the whole time, but it's not a lie.
And the truth is out there to be found.

"You get so alone at times that it just makes sense."

Except it doesn't make sense.
Nothing has ever made sense and nothing ever will.
And nothing will ever change.
Alone and empty is where you belong, so don't try to escape.

Gretel.

There's a forest inside of me and it's dark and cold and I'm so lost.
Leave me bread crumbs.
Leave me lit pathways.
Take my hand and lead me out of here.
I'm so lost.

Contact.

I feel lost inside my head and it's hard to make sense of things.
I wake up from dreams and nightmares wondering if they were real or not.  Sometimes I can't tell.
If they all came true then I'd be dead and alive one thousand times over.
And life would be perfect and a disaster.
I'd feel everything and see in vivid colour, but feel numb and see in shades of grey.
You would love me and betray me in the same moment.
I would come home and be further away than ever before.

Maybe they're all just memories.


"There’s no reason to be afraid, though I know that you are.  You’re just scared of the changes that could fix your life.  You deserve so much more than what you’ve allowed yourself to be.  I wish you were strong enough to set yourself free."

If I could sleep then I wouldn't write.

"I'll love you in pieces.
I'll love you scattered all over the floor."
Sing me a song where you sing those words and make me believe.

Oh hai blogspot.

Maybe it was just out of wishful thinking, out of hope that somebody wondered, or even cared.  I thought it said 'Where is your mind?'
I think it may have gone on holiday, probably someplace cold and far away, just to escape the mess of this heated brain.  Leaving me all alone.  But I think it left my imagination behind, just to keep my thoughts racing.
Or maybe I pulled it out along with my hair and threw it away to relieve the pressure.
Wherever it's gone, it would be nice if it would decide if it's staying or going because the game it plays is getting tedious.
And now I just want an answer.


"Does this deafening silence mean nothing to no one but me?"

Something...

From my other blog, a long time ago.  Well, last summer.  When I wrote a lot about fear.
You probably don't care but I was looking through old stuff and this kind of jumped out at me.  I don't know why.

I thought of another good thing about fear:
You can't be brave if you're not scared.
But if you're too scared you'll never be brave.

That's it.  Nothing amazing.

I think I may be hopping back to ye olde blogdrive.  Think I need a change of scenery for a bit.  Or I may go back to using both at the same time.

It would be selfish.

So I'm not going to say it.
I'm not going to wish it.
I'm not going to think it.

(Except from time to time it bubbles up inside and I feel like I'm going to burst if I hold it in any longer.  And it's not like I can control what I'm thinking anyway.)

Fun Fact.

I am socially awkward.
Bet you didn't know that.

There is nothing.

There is only me and there is only you.
And once all this is over there will be only me and you.
There will be spaces and silence but it will all be okay.
For in the spaces we can breathe.
And in the silence we can talk.
And after breathing we can move.
And to the talking we can listen.
So then the spaces won't be spaces anymore.
And the silence will turn to song.
And in amongst the nothing that turned to something we'll find ourselves.

One Day.

It's hard to believe that 'one day' will ever come when every day feels the same as the one before and you still haven't been rescued from your castle turret.
You can pace over the stone floor as much as you like but he still hasn't come.
And you're still alone.
But you keep holding onto that hope because it's the only good thing you've got left.  These four walls, that cold bed, the worn dress, and that hope.
You have to believe it's going to happen one day because it's the only thing keeping you going.
Maybe he's got lost or trapped or it's not time yet, but he has to be coming.
Just like He told you.

'Ain't nobody else quite like you.'

I miss accents.
I mean, everyone has an accent.  But you get used to them.
Plus, some accents are cooler than others.
I've been listening to The Gentlemen a lot and it makes me want to be around people with that type of accent.  Don't ask why, it just does.

That's all I have to say right now really.
It probably wasn't blogworthy but you know.

People are more awesome than not.

This will probably be incoherent.

I am a constant battle between excess and shortfall.  I'm hoping the shortfall will win because it seems like it's for the best.  I'll misjudge the steps and trip up and learn for later.
Stairs are dangerous things.

I know you like the back of my hand but I want to know you like my handwriting.  I know how that works, what it looks like in detail.  And then I can write you down on fresh white pages and have you to keep and look at and wonder over.  And I can keep you in a notebook by my bed, just so you'll be close.

Maps.

So there's this girl I know and she's scared to death of everything.  Well, most things at least.  But there are two things she's scared of more than anything else.  One is getting lost.  The other's being found.

She's been given this map.  It's like an old pirate map and confusing as heck.  She doesn't know where she's going but she's trying to work out which way to go anyway.  And there are these people constantly giving advice, but none of them can agree and she's getting drowned by their voices.  She doesn't want to end up nowhere, at least not alone.

She doesn't want to be found because she knows people will be disappointed by what they find.  And she doesn't want anyone too close either.  Not so much because she's scared of getting hurt, she's been hurt before, it's okay, but because she's scared of hurting other people.  It's the guilt she can't stand.  She knows she'll screw it up.  And she'll leave you more broken than you were before.

It's not that she doesn't care.  She cares so much that she cries herself to sleep at night.  She's only living for others these days.  But if you knew she cared then it would all go wrong.

Stick a pin in your map and get as far away from her as you can.

"Without you, I'm just me."

All together, falling apart.
The knots we tied in the ropes above our heads to keep us standing are coming loose.
The glue we used to stick pieces back together is coming unstuck.
The plasters we covered up the holes with are peeling off at the edges.
But no one knows,
And that's the key.
We keep smiling and pretend it's all okay.

Skin & Bones.

I have eight fingers and two thumbs.
Breaking bones is not for fun.
I want you to know that.
But one by one I would break them all.
If it would get me under your skin.

Skin and bones is all we are.
And far better together.

Tragedy V: The Death Of A Flower.

I am nought but a wilting flower
And under the heat and light of the sky
I wither and die.


This is what the Isle of Wight trip reduced me to.  It was dire.

"Manage me, I'm a mess."

I'll keep walking down this road even though I know it's heading nowhere.  It seems like the best option.  And it passes the time.  If you're heading nowhere from nowhere, it doesn't make much difference, does it?
Maybe I'm missing out and the other roads had more exciting journeys to offer.  Maybe the birds sing sweeter or the sun shines brighter.  But I can't know for sure.

So I'll stay on course, stepping over cracks as feet have done before me and looking at the sky seen by a million other eyes.  The moon may pass and die a thousand times, but someday the road will come to an end, or I'll find my somewhere along the way.
That broken-down place I'll call home.

"You make me happy, whether you know it or not."

Delayed Appreciation:
Just to let you know, I appreciate the fact that you don't push things that you know I don't want to go into like other people would.  I think you say the right things without knowing it.  I hope you're doing okay and that you know I'm here whether you need me or not.
And I hope you know who you are.

Have a cookie.

"If timing's everything, stop telling me you're taking your time."

Close your eyes and grit your teeth and you can stand anything if it keeps you separate from it all.
There was a time when you’d stop short, but not anymore.
When did you stop caring?
Or was it just that you stopped being scared?
If I could take you back kicking and screaming to where you once were then we’d work this all out.  We’d lock all those doors and open the windows and watch the spring unfold.  But I think you got lost in the long hallways and cobwebbed rooms of this house.
And I don’t know where to find you to drag you back.



Also,
i carry your heart with me by ee cummings
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate, my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

Wafcakes or Panfles.

Trivial is an art form.  Don't knock it.
If there's one thing I will ever be good at, it's being trivial.
So I'll dance aroud the issues, holding hands with the fairies until the fairies all fall because no one believes anymore.  And no amount of clapping will do the slightest bit of good.  Just like a round of applause for a bad actor doesn't make them any more believable.
And I will be labelled as the liar I always was but would never admit.




To end this war of waffles vs. pancakes,
Why not go for a wholesome and tasty combination of the two?
Of course, with double toppings chosen especially by you.

Nevereverever.

I had maybe three things to say to you.  None of which were nice, so I kept them to myself.  Because I wanted to be just as nice as you weren't.
But now I'm finding that I don't want to say them anymore because there wouldn't be any point.  I won't ever forget, but I don't need to hate you and I don't need to be angry.
So it's all okay.



"It's like if I blamed my aunt Helen, I would have to blame her dad for hitting her and the friend of the family that fooled around with her when she was little.  And the person that fooled around with him.  And God for not stopping all this and things that are much worse.  And I did do that for a while, but then I just couldn't anymore.  Because it wasn't going anywhere.  Because it wasn't the point."

Desertification.

From that look in your eyes I can see that you're fading and the colour that used to be there is growing dull.
So we'll take a day off and take ourselves off down to the beach where we'll laugh and scream and sing about the things that never really mattered.
We'll take our minds off the hook and forget the broken world, leaving it somewhere in the drips of melting ice cream.
We'll lie in the sand and get lost in the clouds with a blanket on the ground to catch us when we come back down.
And the water will be cold but we'll swim in it anyway because we can, and the sand left on our feet will serve as a reminder of it all.
Memories wrapped up in tousled hair and the smell of salt will give everything else a different colour, a more exciting hue.
And all this we'll do just to know it's all okay.
Just to know we're still sane.




"Well, I found a wheel that squeaks and squeals and I left it on your doorstep, because I heard that you might be broken too and I thought it'd keep you company."

Dear Gravity,

I do wish that you would stop holding me down.
I want to fly to visit Peter Pan.  I love him, and he does so need a mother.
Please let me go, just for now.  I promise to never ask anything of you again.
This means everything to me.
You may be part of the fundamentals of physics but you still have a heart, don't you?

Thanks in advance,
Yours hopefully,
Rachel

Favourites.

[I actually only wrote this last night, but meant to write it last week.]

Why have just one favourite when there's so much out there?
Why not have a bunch?
Favourites for different categories, different reasons.
Passing favourites and permanent favourites.

Hey, guess what...
You're my favourite.

'This world isn't kind to little things. You're not doing this alone.'

[This week or last week, maybe even the week before.]

I know I'm not very good at this.  I'm sorry.
If I could do something to just make everything better, I would.  But I know I can't.
So all I can do is try to be here when you want me, even though I'm not that great.  I can't make promises, but I'll do my best.
You don't deserve this.  No one does.  But you especially, because you're you and you're awesome.

Describbling.

[Early January?  Not sure.]

LOVE is so much more a verb than a noun.
I mean, first off, it's something you just can't describe in a nounish way.  But you can describe the way in which you love things.
Secondly, who has ever just felt love, or felt loved, without something being done?  Hugs, kisses, even just 'I love you's' and other words that lighten your heart and brighten the world.  Love is an action.  Otherwise it's pointless.
Love as a noun is pointless.
That weird, warm, fuzzy feeling inside you.  That's no good to anyone, unless you do something with it.

The things we do to make others' lives better, the things we do to show they are appreciated, to help them through hard times, to build them up and offer them hope where they feel there is none... that's love.

Superhero.

[This was written ages ago.  November/December time.]

I'd give my life to save yours if I only knew how.  No, if only it was mine to save.
If I knew how and did save you, then that's all I could do.  I wouldn't be able to stop you from putting yourself straight back in danger.  I would save you a million times over but you'd just keep going back and I'm sure that would kill me.
I don't get how superheroes can do that.  People keep getting themselves in trouble and the superheroes have to save them.
Maybe no one's told you, but superheroes aren't real.  Sooner or later, someone you think is yours will let you down.  They can't always be there.

So I can't be your superhero.
You can keep putting yourself back in that position, but just know that I wish you wouldn't.  I can't stop you.  I'll help you out as much as I can, but in the end you have to choose to be saved, or save yourself.

Updating time.

So I'm going through my blogs and adding stuff which I wrote recently but never got round to posting.  I'll try to give a rough indication of when I wrote them, but I'm not entirely sure myself.
Here goes...

Pardon?

I'm pretty sure I have this weird habit... when a member of the general public, sometimes even people I just don't know very well, say something to me or ask me a question, I always say 'pardon?' regardless of whether I've heard them or not.  Sometimes I even catch myself saying it and think 'why the heck am I saying this?' but I still do it.  Maybe it has some huge great significant meaning.  Maybe it's nothing.  But it's what I do and I don't plan on stopping.


"But sister, in our darkness a light shines and all I ever want to say for the rest of my life is how that light is G-d, and though I've been mistaken on this or that point, that light is nevertheless G-d."

I currently hate...

...dry skin and scars.
And homework involving copying up notes that I've already written once before.
And the mood that distracts me from doing said homework.
I also hate forgetting cool little moments and idea.
I hate those tempting hairs and scabs.
I hate wasting time and feeling lazy.
I hate being offered food and the fact that I can't refuse.
I hate feeling fat and putting on weight.
I hate annoying police shows on TV, the ones where they show car chases and stuff.
I hate deadlines.
I hate my perfectionism.
I hate when people do things purely for attention and get it.
I hate that horrible type of rain which seems really light but ends up getting you horribly wet.
I hate not having snow.

But most of all, I hate a certain someone.
And if I say any more I will probably get complained at, so I won't.



N.B. Hate is fleeting, so this is current hatingness.

I'm pretty lame.

I think I'm starting a new 'I can't be bothered with people' phase.
Don't worry, it's okay.  These things happen from time to time.
I'm just hoping it doesn't last too long this time.

I am far too nice,
But I'm actually horrible.
You can trust me,
But I will lie to you.
I'm told I'm a calming person,
But most of the time I'm worrying or I'm angry.
I don't like drawing attention to myself,
But I want to be noticed.
Some people say I'm strange,
But I'm a lot more normal than you think.
I'll say I'm fine,
But in reality I'm crying.

This is a bit weird.

I think I have a slight irrational fear of emailing teachers.  And people I don't know.
I think the thing with teachers is that I worry I'll write something stupid or sound rude and they'll always judge me by that email.
I think with people I don't know it's the same but also along with the whole shyness thing.  What if they don't want me to contact them?  What if they only reply out of politeness and I'm actually boring them?
I get like that with IMing as well.  I actually worry a ridiculous amount about how people I don't know and will probably never meet think of me.

I'm not a people person.

---

Dancing on the skyline,
Praying that this sunset will never end.
Here, I'm free.
And I'm safe,
Despite the risk of falling.
I'm alone but I don't care.
I can see everyone else's lives carrying on.
And that's my favourite part.

Coughing is not fun.

So, I'm ill.  As always.
I wanted to go to school today but the parentals told me not to.  But that's probably for the best.

I think a lot of people are afraid of life more than they are of death.  And afraid of finding out who they really are.
I think this includes me, but believe me, I'm trying to change that.