This blog is falling somewhat into disrepair now.
I'm not sure, part of me doesn't feel too comfortable expressing all my thoughts so publicly anymore.
The other day I bought a brand new journal as a sort effort to start fresh with a clean slate. So far I've brought it with me everywhere. I quite like the idea of always being able to write down my thoughts and feelings, as well as elaborate on a story as it comes to me.

It looks a little bit like this, only with smaller polka dots haha.

I've also almost finished my first proper zine. It's really exciting, I literally can't wait to go to be photocopying outlet and start copying it and stapling all the pages together. Writing it has made me feel a bit better lately, it's sort of been an outlet similar to a blog but there is that sense of pride of having made something completely by yourself.

I realise over the last few weeks I've progressed into being a massive, ungrateful, moody dick >.<
I'm just not the best person at coping and tackling change head on. I honestly do feel awful for it all. I realise I'm making things worse not better. I just don't know how to become a good person again.

Edit: I realised the paradox in me saying I don't feel too comfortable expressing all my feelings on this blog anymore, yet I'll do it through a zine. There is something different about the zine though; it's more of a work of fiction if anything. Just a story for people to read, there are no names or any facts that would give anything non-fictional away.

Life.

Chaque amour est unique. C'est ce qui le rend si difficile de se laisser aller, mais si doux à découvrir. L'amour est vivant, comme vous et moi.


I'm glad I've understood this.

Late night.

I saw a shooting star! ^__________________^
Of course a wish was requested. It's like 10,000 11:11s all bundled together XD
I was sitting outside having a little midnight picnic with Kate and her friend Jen.

Fiction.

Today I started writing a story. It's so different to everything else I've written before.
I don't think I could ever show another person it, at least not now, maybe in years to come. It's just so personal, I've never been so open and honest about everything before. I slit myself open and poured myself onto the page. All my troubles and all my worries converted into little black typed letters. Like a large factory processor, which takes what I'm thinking and wraps it up in neat and tidy little packages. Preparing to be shipped out into a million unknown destinations.

I felt a little bit better after I wrote it. I guess it put a lot of things into perspective. I have a lot of problems, but at the same time I wouldn't be the same person I am if I didn't have them. My mind works like a giant pendulum, constantly swinging from left to right and never once showing any signs of slowing and stopping. This left and right represent all the pairs of opposites my life consists of. The main two being:
- Happiness and sadness
- Childhood and adulthood
I realised how much my life is a hybrid of all those extremes. Sometimes this pendulum moves so fast that before you know it they all get blurred together, into one big mess. I don't really mind it though. I think it's best to look at both sides of things. I sort of like to take the best of both of them, for example taking the adventurous and carefree attitude of a child and placing into a typical adult context (I don't mean adult as in sexual, just adult as in grown up. I do resent how perfectly normal terms get warped into things like that).
In reality we're all just children in whore's clothing.

This is why I want to study film and be involved in the film making process. I believe so strongly in the power of fictional characters. Their ability to make us feel better when it seems like all hope has left. They're always there for us, picking us up when we fall, listening patiently as we rant and whine and always providing a little bit of hope for the future when things turn grey. I think if I can spend my life doing this then I might be able to save myself as well as help others in a similar situation. Paranoid, neurotic, self conscious misfits like me. Obviously not in any martyr styled way. No "this story will save your life!".
Just "I was there too and this story is how I coped with it. Because it can be done".

Preparation.

Grumpyface.

It seems as if everyone I know in my life is really angry. I'm confused as to whether the world is just an angryangry place and I've naively tried to convince myself it's different.
I don't really like anger. It's all loud and intrusive, violent and frantic. It makes me somewhat nervous actually, especially when people start to scream and yell from anger.
I guess thats one of the ways I don't feel particularly close to my father. He is always so angry and never really thinks things through just explodes.

That being said it's not like everyone I know is angry non-stop. There are just a few instances of anger here and there.
I want to crawl up under my duvet and transport myself to a cosy and happy place.

Beautiful.

I've been reading so much these last few days. Like literally just pouring over books. I've been reading the second last Harry Potter book mostly and bits of Macbeth. I have A Clockwork Orange to finish as well but I'm not really in the mood for that. Iono, I find when I'm sad I just like to escape into fantasy landscapes. There is so much mystery and adventure locked in them. An entire new world that no one has yet to discover and you're the first person to wander through it.
I really want to get some nautical based novels as well. Perhaps Moby Dick. Lately I've really fallen in love with the ocean. It itself holds a lot of mystery and adventure as well. Some much of it is left undiscovered, there could be so much there that humankind has failed to notice.
It really represents freedom, having a large pirate-esque boat and just wandering aimlessly out to sea, taking everything as it comes and exploring endless new horizons. If I could I'd merge that with my love of forests. A large boat that was like a floating forest. It would be a regular wooden boat but covered in growth and plants, the masts would be large trees and the sails would be made out of vines.
Sea monsters are amazing too. I'd love to encounter one and just witness it.



In adjacent to being over-indulgent in food I've also been over-indulgent in music consumption. These last few days I've downloaded so many albums. They've all been peaceful Dream Pop LPs/EPs, with swirly music and unintelligible lyrics delivered by soft and delicate voices. It's as if you recorded yourself feeling cosy. It's pretty depressing actually. This is the kind of music that's just perfect to just put on, lie down next to someone and just half-sleep/nap. I find something so romantic in that, two people discovering something beautiful together with their combined mindset trailing along to the music, following every new swirl and pattern. I know I could just save these albums in case a moment like that ever happened to me again (if it ever will), but it just wouldn't be the same. I'd know all the albums inside out by myself then and instead of discovering something, I'd just be lying there thinking "There is this song, now that song comes next, then the other one".

Before I went to shave and shower I put on a Slowdive album and turned it up as loud as it could go, all those little bars reached the top of their little path. As I closed the bathroom door I could hear all the music seeping in from the cracks under the door and between the door and the door frame. These lush echoing sounds seeping in and echoing through my small bathroom, circling over my head and getting caught under the skylight.
In that moment everything felt perfect. I didn't feel at all mended or okay but just at peace, I felt alive. It was like that one moment just completely reflected my fragile state of mind. I could see everything fit into place and see all my emotions in front of me, within arm's reach.
I could of cried in that moment. I should of cried in that moment.

It's made me think; if I ever came into a lot of money all I do was travel to the peaceful and green English countryside and buy a car. I'd buy all these albums on cd and just drive aimlessly listening to one after another. I'd have no direction or purpose, just traveling for the sake of traveling. I would just drive and drive until my body just gave way to absolute fatigue and I'd lose control of the wheel and plow into another car or tree and die instantly.