I am good, but not an angel. I do sin,
but I am not the devil. I am just
a small girl in a big world trying to
find someone to love.

new moon

You try very hard to make up for something that was never your fault. What I mean is, it’s not like you asked for this. You didn’t choose this kind of life, and yet you have to work so hard to be good.

i wrote everything i wanted to say to you down, but you never knew what it was i meant. because i am only good at writing them between the lines. while you never knew betweenthelines existed.


there was once a girl who believed in everything she believed in. she believed in everything that others believed in. this girl, she believed in believing. but today, she believes in nothing.

how time strips us down and takes so much away from us. giving us so much to take away from but we keep letting them take it away instead. they keep taking and taking until we realise we're this close to having nothing at all.

i've so much to say, but i've nothing to write. so many words so jumbled up that they won't make no sense at all. is that it? is that how it'll always be, words and words jumbled up inside of me. can never really get them to fit.

we sung our hearts out, when we were young, pouring our sorrows, letting it drown in the wind and rain. we let it out and we let it in. and we learn to let it go. when we were young.

we had gold dust in our hands

Isn’t it odd how much fatter a book gets when you’ve read it several times? As if something were left between the pages every time you read it. Feelings, thoughts, sounds, smells… and then, when you look at the book again many years later, you find yourself there, too, a slightly younger self, slightly different, as if the book had preserved you like a pressed flower…both strange and familiar.

I'm just another writer
Still trapped within my truth
A hesitant prize fighter
Still trapped within my youth

Anyone whose goal is ‘something higher’ must expect someday to suffer vertigo. What is vertigo? Fear of falling? No, Vertigo is something other than fear of falling. It is the voice of the emptiness below us which tempts and lures us, it is the desire to fall, against which, terrified, we defend ourselves.

Have you ever heard the wolf cry to the blue corn moon
Or asked the grinning bobcat why he grinned?
Can you sing with all the voices of the mountains?
Can you paint with all the colors of the wind?
Can you paint with all the colors of the wind?

i've waited long and hard to feel this way. to have the energy surge in every vein and blood that flows in me. lost in the world of languages. unknowingly absorbing the best of what it can offer to me. taking the bait and biting hard, having the best of what i could have if i wanted. i really love language. and i really should take this passion of mine more seriously.

i always say, from now on, i should do this and that. maybe i should say instead that, from now on i would and i must be more driven and know what i can achieve and get down to doing it. all talk means nothing. words mean nothing. action will mean at least something. i should. i could. but would i?

Try to remember the kind of September
When life was slow and oh, so mellow.
Try to remember the kind of September
When grass was green and grain was yellow.
Try to remember the kind of September
When you were a tender and callow fellow.
Try to remember, and if you remember,
Then follow.

the more you know

the more you know, the more you know you don’t know and the more you know that you don’t know.

those dreary clouds hanging low, i could almost reach out and touch it, feel it, take a bite out of it. as low as moods could go. everywhere the clouds are dark and i hope the thunder and lightning will never stop. let it rain for as long as it wants to and we can all be adrift, floating, not knowing where we're going to end up at, not knowing when we might drown and it's the end.

They say reality is an illusion
We all create our own
So who is right or wrong?
Yes, I am still searching for the truth
When did you stop looking?
Where did we go wrong?

Every time you create a problem
You have the remedy
The same old strategy
I ate the red pill, no turning back
The gloves are off now
Where did we go wrong?
Where did it all go wrong?

The fruit of my imagination
A blessing or a curse
I'm a stranger in a plastic nation
Stuck in reverse
Take a look from my perspective
It's so obvious to me
I can't stand this narrow-mindedness
We'll always disagree
We're incompatible

while you were walking away...

flashes of red and that tight chested sensation that refused to go away, threatening to tip over and spill all over. control trying so hard to control. gained it then lost it and tried to cling onto it again. appalled by the mental and emotional state of being. appalled but afraid. ruins life.

more and more, thoughts seem repelled. there's diminishing harmony. feels so bad.

why make it home for darkness and silence. why not make it home when there's still some light, some laughter, some happiness, some hope of comfort. why leave before there is life in the house. why go into the sun leaving her all alone. with unimaginable ailments that plagues her. uncontrollable palpitations. to lay there in pain and suffering. while you, have a sun-kissed day.

there were hopes, to be dashed. promises, to be broken. what else is there?

while you were walking away

cast me gently into the morning

for the night has been unkind
take me to a place so holy
that I can wash this from my mind
the memory of choosing not to fight

I didn’t want my picture taken because I was going to cry. I didn’t know why I was going to cry, but I knew that if anybody spoke to me or looked at me too closely the tears would fly out of my eyes and the sobs would fly out of my throat and I’d cry for a week. I could feel the tears brimming and sloshing in me like water in a glass that is unsteady and too full.

nobody shall ever live in such mortal fear of being. being herself. being something other than what others want or need her to be. being someone other than her deluded self. being someone. anyone. just by being, you're already something. by trying not to be, you lose. bit by bit you'll lose it. and you may not feel it at all but when you're nearing the end you'll realise, there's nothing left to fight the end. so it's just the end. the end.


be thou exalted

Perhaps all the dragons in our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us act, just once, with beauty and courage. Perhaps everything that frightens us is, in its deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love.

so many thoughts and feelings that run through our minds each day and each night. we've learnt to keep them to ourselves. we bury them with us and they go deep into our graves when we die.

the evil that men do lives after them, the good is oft interred with their bones.

let's now strive towards burying both good and evil. impossible.

there are no beginnings, only ends. there are no ends, only beginnings. it's either, or neither. there's no all, only nothing. all or nothing. there's no happiness or sadness but happiness and sadness. there's no laughter or tears, only tears and laughter.

but thy eternal summer shall not fade.

we run because we want to be chased.