no need

It's like trying to swallow a huge piece of cake without chewing, and backwards.

that's what it feels like right now.

I desperately need you.

[photos from we heart it]

dead-links.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm real, the kind of real that ants must wonder when they walk across my windowsill.

The kind of real that I wonder even exists, because when lightening flashes the only thing that reminds me it was there, is the thunder that follows eight seconds afterwards. I'm not quite sure I'm saying anymore. Lately, I wish I had a barcode, that told me who I was, and where I was going to go.

But I don't and I'm not sure whether I'm okay with that. I don't mean to be rude, but I wish sometimes God would understand that waking up one day in a place you don't understand, without the slightest idea of where you're heading is something quite daunting. I want to be able to remember something that makes my heart flutter. But the closest thing I can think of is the view outside my window (past and present) and how much it improves when it seems like the floor is rushing towards you.

Tybalt,

brought home some flowers today,

I stole them from Georgia's Garden.

don't tell her please.

The tourists smile and say cheese

cameras are basically sensors with a series of mirrors and lenses that distort the image.

light that is reflected off ourselves. light that isn't allowed to dwell.

so why does it seem like the camera chooses to take me, leaving the empty light?

thanks for the milk Bailey.
it was chocolate flavoured.

custard.

I've had a lot of spare time on my hand(s). If I can count a hand that isn't entirely useful. Tybalt sorry for coming home late last night, hope I didn't wake you. I left some money on the fridge and brought some milk. There's custard on the stove. (I love custard)

Lately, there are these moments I have, they remind me of tybalt's freckles, insignificant, tiny things, which will change if I don't glance at them everyday and sometimes change despite all my effort for them not to. Sometimes when things get darker, they begin to fade, and I forget, and her face gets pale and I get scared.

and the only thing I really want to do is open a window and let light in on her face, just so the freckles can reappear again. So I can have those moments back.

but its so cloudy here,

so Tybalt doesn't have as many freckles as she used to.

{photos from weheartit.com}

it was your birthday the other day.

Wow.

Thanks for the tag, Erimentha. It was probably Bailey who the tag was aimed at, but she's resting after 'falling' through a window. Her and my vacuum cleaner are currently not on speaking terms.

This month I tag. . .

Dandalily

Francesca

Christina

I'm only new to blogging, but you three have caught my eye.

The task is: fill in 12 likes, 1 love and 8 hates like Cassie in her therapy video. Below, the bold things are what you MUST include. Also, please make sure you link it back to me, and link it onto 3 other blogs you admire!

Abracadabra, Wow!

I like boys who can whistle and girls who laugh.

I like warm afternoons lazing on trampolines.

I like those small chains made up of tiny metal balls that are used with clothes tags.

I like the thinking sounds my laptop makes.

I like music makes you get up and dance.

I like old ugly jumpers that feel like bear hugs.

I like bear hugs.

I like scooters at inappropriate places.

I like being alone.

I like the country.

I like small cafes.

I like playing music loud and not caring if the neighbours hear.

I love the way light makes shadows.

Today I slept in.

In some ways, I love everything.

Its less, its less of a thing to like, its less distinct, its less particular

I like things that I like but I love everything

There’s more choice in like

Cos even the worst things have things you love in them

I don’t know what you mean about things I hate

I hate large crowds.

I hate people who are too much.

I hate when friends fall through windows.

I hate being musically untalented.

I hate when your favourite show is cancelled.

I hate when concerts used to be over aged.

I hate when bad things happen, but in a way, I deserve them.

I hate calling people.

I hate cockroaches.

I hate this, wow. . .Sorry.

[weheartit.com]

Dear Tybalt.

sorry for the broken vacuum and window

I decided to see if I could run.

like I used to.

It turns out broken glass is hard to pick up,

and your vacuum doesn't like eating glass very much.

I was trying to find something familiar.

then I remembered that I hate all those things I used to have.

{photos from weheartit.com}