Bus Stop

It's Mia

2010-02-05T18:44:00.002+11:00

This is going to sound pathetic. But who cares, what do I care what you think of me? These last few months I have been on a high. I have my own home now, my own space. Enjoying being a mother. And being so social it's driving me mad! I never used to be that popular. So I have a party. I informed my friends weeks/months ago about it, with reminders. People said they were coming, they didn't show up. I have so much food in my fridge and freezer now... here lies my dilemma.

I've had a few flat/depressed days in the last few weeks, nothing serious. I'm going to see.. I don't know what I am supposed to name him here, seeing one of my past mistakes shares his name and I'd not like to confuse him here. I don't know. Well... I am going to see a gentleman this coming week that I've grown close to these last few months... but suddenly drifted apart. He's not there when I need him. I guess I'm too needy I suppose. I don't want to talk about this but why am I writing about it??

I haven't thrown up (on purpose) in God knows how long. I am feeling awful right now. No. Not suicidal. But fed up. Let down. By everyone. My family, my son's father, my friends and my potential mate. I've let myself down for being to trusting and too "happy" for so long. I can hear that angry voice I kept quiet for so long now shouting again "Told you so! Told you so!" I don't deserve happiness. The closest thing to happiness I have is a fridge full of food, my fingers and my toilet bowl.

Shh. I'm returning to Mia. Fuck the world.

Here Comes The Sun

2009-11-05T09:59:00.003+11:00

I welcome the dreams I have of feeling the warmth of sunlight on my cheek. Like a sweet kiss, like a tender caress, like the embrace of a loved one. I had one of those the other night. I felt awake and in the sun, in the light. I was tentative but completely joyous when in my dream everything came true.

The rain has passed and roses are now in bloom. The lilacs are still giving off their scent.

Look. The sun is shining.

Perseverance

2009-10-31T19:20:00.002+11:00

Quite fitting, the damp scent of Eucalyptus, Lilac, rain and Gorecki's 3rd Symphony. That's how I feel. Beautiful. Delicate. Fragile.

Oh how I feel fragile.

I'm not too certain of the future, only of my dreams. I'm waiting for the storm to come batter my petals and leave me weak to fall to the ground.

But for now the hush of a gentle drizzle.

Ashtray Heart

2009-10-24T15:46:00.002+11:00

I've been meaning to write for a long time. It has been sincerely hard. Now I am compelled to.

Yes, I gave birth to a baby boy, M. He's my world... when I am not stressed or depressed. That sounds horrid. Owen was with me for the birth. I'll write about the birth at some other point in the future.

After the birth, I guess my hormones were racing. I needed Grumpy. I wanted Grumpy. I partially grieved for the past. Even recently I bared my heart and soul to him. I can't be friends with someone who doesn't love me. Unrequited 'love'. But he talked me around.

The latest debacle in this whole sorry saga is the last straw in my 'friendship' with Grumpy. A mutual real life friend decided I had spouted lies and posted logs to one of my internet friends, which is complete bulls***. I'm not that juvenile. I even offered for him to come over and read my message history and logs. But no, he declined. Where does Grumpy fit into this? Well for starters he didn't stand up for me. He washes his hands of it and leaves me alone in the s*** that I have unwittingly been dragged into. He proceeded to text me and phone me and not say one nice thing, not even a hint of sympathy. Pretty much Grumpy is leaving alone in this. Won't defend me. Won't be a friend. And even agreed with the mutual 'friend' that it was probably me.

So that's it. He can't be a friend then he is gone. I'm debating whether or not to send him his birthday present which I got early for once. It's a waste of $80 really, to just go and give it to charity. I know, that sounds selfish. But $80 is a lot for me, who is now on welfare.

On the bright side, I had someone, who I do call a friend, be such a lovely voice of reason as I had a panic attack. The mutual friend that started all this baloney knows where I live and that is still playing on my fears.

But the voice of reason? I'm bowled over once again... and I feel like how I felt initially when Chris came around last year to deliver smokes and sit on the doorstep with me... so now I am wary. I don't want to be dealt the same way Chris treated me. I don't want to be disappointed like Owen disappointed me... I don't want to go to the dark places Grumpy took me... and I don't want to get my heart broken and soul ripped out, what Tad the wonder d*ck did to me.

I guess I just have to be myself... if people don't like that... their loss, not mine.

PS: After 4 years I finally deleted Grumpy's messages off my phone... that in itself says a lot.

Mind's Sedate

2009-04-11T12:58:00.002+10:00

Sometimes my mind flashes back to moments in time when I've had such a tranquil state of mind, when I sit down to write. Currently my mind is sitting on the porch looking down through the greenery, through the bees and dragonflies, through gardenias and geraniums, palms and ferns, toward the small eucalypt undergrowth and spying the calves licking each other in the shade. Lorikeets and peewees, finches and magpies warbling a distant tune.

I can picture the flowers smiling in their baskets framing the view, swaying in the slight breeze. I have a cup of tea sitting on an old stump lugged up here, with an astray, packet of cigarettes and a lighter. I'm resting before my duties. Cleaning the chookyard, shovelling cow manure into bags, mowing the lawn, carting water and hay, all before coming back again to admire the view with a well-earned beer in my hand. That is where my mind is and where I long to be. Just for a few days if only.

The Cross

2009-04-08T16:19:00.002+10:00

What is this force that helps me stumble along? More I think of it, when I start to think of what happened. It's like the cross that was heavy and Jesus still bore and carried it to Gol'gotha. Is this force Jesus carrying me? My pain, my torment, my fear? Perhaps though he can't be seen, he can be felt.

All I've learned, my scraps of religious education, feels like it's reaching toward epiphany. Realisation. When I feel like I have grasped it, doubt floods in.

Don't Sit Under That Apple Tree

2009-03-23T21:36:00.002+11:00

I am me. I am. I am.
I'm the girl who falls for the wrong person.
Someone damaged in some way or another.
An Apple that has already been bitten
by the birds or the hungry little worm
or two.
Perhaps I am that hungry little worm.
Perhaps I am the bee that pollinates
the Apple blossom.

Alle

2009-03-22T16:19:00.003+11:00

*Means alone in German. Or if not, well obviously my German needs improving.

This pregnancy just gets better and better in terms of my mental health.

I gave up anti-depressants earlier on in the pregnancy, which probably wasn't the best thing by me as depression reared it's ugly head again and I started to contemplate suicide again. I guess the only thing that keeps me hanging on is the fact that I am Catholic and couldn't bear two mortal sins (ie killing myself and my child) than the one. I still go to therapy every week and due to a complete and utter misunderstanding on my psychiatrists part (all I asked was if my second appointment in the month could be bulk billed, seeing I could only barely be able to afford him once a month, he also misconstrued what I was saying and recommended I see someone else...what on Earth? All I wanted was a yes or a no!) I now see another psychiatrist whom I've only just started seeing. And back on the meds. If the benefits outweigh the risks, it should be fine on my child. It's not healthy for a child to have a completely depressed mother who still has thoughts of topping herself.

And one disappointment from Owen to another. And now this. My sister and brother in law completely taking my opinions over a certain politician here way too seriously and continually labelling me a racist. I mean what the hell. Anyone who actually knows me knows that that isn't like me at all. Hell, two of my good friends are from Pakistan, I have lots of friends from different countries here and even another of my good friends was a refugee from Vietnam that went from refugee camp to refugee camp at such a young age. They said if I was joking why was I getting defensive and in hindsight I should have told them that being labelled an idiot, a racist and being told it's proof I was adopted makes me defensive. Way to work up a pregnant person. I wonder how many years it's going to be this time and if they're going to expect me to apologise. They never apologise for this and no doubt will feel that they've been wronged. Whom am I going to ask to be the Godparents of my child now?! And no doubt their version would be enough to turn my newly found relationship with my dad and grandparents to dust. Even though Dad hasn't talked to me since I told him about my pregnancy. And didn't even send a message to wish me a happy birthday. And my brother is completely unhappy about my pregnancy and I say so in censored terms. His explosive tirade at me was enough to convince me that he hates me as much and as deeply as he hates my mother.

And then there's the elusive Mother of mine. Excuses excuses on why she cannot call or send a message. And whenever we do talk she spends most of that phone call chatting about things I really don't give a rat's behind about when I need information about hereditary problems and you know, whatever mums and their pregnant daughters are supposed to be talking about. And then with me hardly getting anything in, she has the audicity to say "I have to go now." And hangs up.

What the hell is wrong with my family? What have I done to deserve this? (Despite the bleeding obvious of having pre-marital sex and having a child out of wedlock) Am I suppose to "grow up" or something? I thought I was handling my pregnancy and my life with utmost maturity. If they only knew just want hell my mind has gone through and is still going through. But no, they're just the kind of people to say I only want attention. Which is bullshit because I hate drawing attention from my family because it ALWAYS causes problems. Like the time I saw a psychologist when I was 14? And she had the great idea of bringing my mother AND my sister into a session with me, and my sister went completely off her brain at me and thought I was doing it all for attention and my depression was just bullshit. You know what happened after that session? After the hellride home I tried my best to lock myself in my room and for the very first time in my young life I started cutting. It actually felt an awful lot better than I felt.

So with my meagre family and friends....well really, I am alone. I don't think I've got anyone that's going to sit there with me and take me to the hospital when I give birth. Although Owen says he'll be there but I just know he's going to disappoint me again. I don't have faith in anyone anymore when they say they will be there and they will be supportive blah blah.

And as for my child? I'm not sure if I'm going to be much support either. I don't have faith in myself on sticking out this existance much longer after the birth. I'm barely coping as it is.

Say Hello To Barry Colours For Me

2009-03-20T12:15:00.000+11:00

The title I would like to say came to be in a dream not a few hours ago. I have no idea what it means but in my dream I was on blogspot reading my blog and had an entry titled that for some reason. There you have it.

I've been sort of battling a writer's block if you will these past few months. It's been rather hard.

My news? Baby is doing quite well, I'll find out the gender hopefully this Wednesday coming. Owen and I just recently broke up for reasons I guess I can't vent out on this spot in cyberspace but I do hope for a future for both of us, I really do. It has been a lonely pregnancy thus far and I suppose not having him by my side (officially) doesn't make much of a difference if he wasn't there to begin with. I don't know. I hurt a bit. But it was my own doing so I shouldn't bitch about it so much.

I'm not sure what else to write. All I know is I had to write Say Hello To Barry Colours For Me. Trippy.

All I Need

2009-01-01T18:44:00.004+11:00

First and foremost, best wishes to all for 2009!

I'm due in 7 months. In perspective that isn't a very long time to go. So much to do in preparation. No energy to do it with. Still signing up for study in my laboratory course which I can do still when the baby is born. Have to move into a new place, buy furniture, buy a fridge and a washing machine, maternity clothes, baby clothes, nappies, bottles, kilos of washing powder, a pram, a cot/bassinette and surely more things I haven't thought of yet. All on a happy single mum pension.

Owen will support as much as he can but I really do feel like I am on my own with this one. I mean. My family aren't too excited as I thought they would be, they said they will help where they can but that gesture has done bugger all to mask their disappointment. Friends? What friends? Apart from friends on the internet? Real life? Nobody really except for my housemates and Grumpy's family.

A young single mum how does that work? How on earth did that happen? Here I go from severe depression, to sheer happiness and clarity, to a job I've to do every day for the rest of my life. Sure I'm happy about that and happy to do it. But is it really the best for my kid? They deserve better. All I have is my love but judging by today's society love is a skint way to bring up your kid.

And no longer will I be afraid for me, I will be afraid for my child. How do you mothers deal with that fear?

(Please share your tips for dealing with All Day-All Night Sickness too...it's becoming unbearable!)

Brave New World

2008-12-14T18:21:00.002+11:00

Funny feeling sitting in the waiting room of the medical centre, waiting in anticpation, babies, elderly and those waiting to be born. I have been sick as a dog for a week or so before I went to the doctor. But not the sickness I'm accustomed to. Cramping, one light pink spot and I'm left alone with the sickness. I took a test before work. Postive. At the doctor's I took another. Negative. One failed attempt at a blood test and one successful, congratulations are in order, you're pregnant.

It is still early days, I'm very happy and excited of course but there's that primitive fear deep down that I imagine lurks in most mothers-to-be.

Owen and I met online many months ago and hit it off very well as friends. I should have taken his advice then about Chris being a supermassive jerk to be gotten over. But I didn't and our relationship grew. And as it grew my thoughts of Chris the Jerk withered away.

Owen was moving down of his own accord and for his own reasons, nearer to where I live. We met up. I'm not sure if he was as shy as I was, I certainly felt like a daft and timid teenager with her first boyfriend. We of course did the deed, had an accident and I totally forgot about the ramifications, seeing it happened plenty of times when I was with Grumpy and nothing ever eventuated.

But this time something did.

Owen came again to stay with me for a week. He looked after me and attended to all my needs and for that I am grateful. Owen and I have decided to take our relationship slow and not rush into anything despite my condition. I truly believe it is for the best, we have much to learn of each other outside being parents. Although I do confess I miss him terribly and long to be snuggled in bed with him and dream the remainder of the gestation away.

I know it is early but I have a feeling I am having a girl. I do wish for her to be named Violet very much but I doubt Owen or our respective families would approve. But it is my wish.

So here it is, after writing Interchange, how aptly named it was, that I have embarked on a journey I have never taken before, one of those you've heard about and longed to travel. Holly: Mother-to-be.

I pray to the All Mighty that I have a safe pregnancy, safe delivery and a healthy baby. But I am at the mercy of God's divine Will.
Whatever will be, will be.
He works in mysterious ways.

Note: For those who have access to my facebook profile, please do not post any congratulations just yet as some parties have not been informed and I shall announce it when I enter my second trimester :D

Interchange

2008-11-21T18:22:00.002+11:00

I've gotten off the bus as it had reached the terminus. I'm standing here weary and confused at which bus I'm supposed to take and when. Should I hang around the terminal with a coffee in hand and a cigarette dangling in the other? Or fight for a seat?

I'm standing in a hall of mirrors, so crowded here with my infinate doppelgangers. Someone, perhaps the true me, is screaming, screaming, infinately screaming. Still the mirrors do not shatter.

But I am at the terminal breathing in acrid exhaust and stale tobacco smoke. Just standing. Just tired. Just bewildered at the buses, the destinations and estimated arrivals. How long do I have to stand here?

I often wish I could jump in a car and drive to destination unknown.

Bon Voyage

2008-11-01T17:18:00.003+11:00

Time moves simultaneously fast and slow. When I was happy I was sad, when I was sad I was happy, when I was happy I was happy and when I was sad I was sad, all the while days meandered past.

Chris is leaving for India for quite a few months and hadn't bothered to tell me nor did he think it appropriate to invite me to his farewell. Seriously, I am happy he is going. One less jerk to associate with and I can resume my shortcut walking to work, which happened to be past his house and not worry that he might think I am stalking him. (I used to walk past often, before I knew him)

And what is new on this epic journey of Holly's? Owen. Pure and simple. Another fork in the road. I am going down a new path with Owen. I shall divulge details at another time.

Seeing Double

2008-10-19T12:00:00.002+11:00

I awoke to find myself about to roll of the edge of the bed. Decided I needed to use the bathroom so I got up. I fell flat on my face. My vision doubled and I stood again, stumbling and falling often along the way. Still seeing double.

A choir of female voices kept shouting, "Second sight! Second sight!"I found my housemate and in a panic told her my vision has doubled and promptly fell over again. She looked at me odd.

Next thing I knew I was awake, nearly falling off the bed.

Gem

2008-10-14T15:39:00.002+11:00

An opal is like a soul. Lost inside are fiery ribbons of gold, orange, green and blue. Like a kaliedoscope, facets shift and shine infinately.

I've learned to stop separating people from good and bad. Black, grey and white. Like the Chinese concept of Yin and Yang. You have a good person with a bit of bad and a bad person with a bit of good.

I've sort of expanded on that theory. We are all gems of a particular colour with hues of others that change with light (or circumstances). I used to see myself as an Amethyst but now? Now I am a White Opal with a fiery heart.

I used to think of Mum as the good guy, Dad as the bad. In recent news I've learned about my Mother's lies and in some aspects my Father's. Came to a head. They never changed. They were always. Different facets show.

I'm not afraid of being hurt physically, emotionally or spiritually anymore. The greatest foe I've ever had, myself, defeated but still lurking in the depths of my being.

I'm lonely. I still wish for Chris or at least someone to fill his space. I'm okay. I'm learning more about myself everyday. And I like me. I'm in awe as I view the different colours radiate from me, my gem.

Fire

2008-10-12T23:29:00.003+11:00

A friend of mine recently revealed his diagnosis and battle with clinical depression and anxiety. Another revealed that he was in that current mindstate. And another is in another of her suicide bids.

In the heat of summer when the paddocks are crowded with tussocks of dry brown grasses, when the landscape is like an overflowing tinderbox and the breeze breathes like the hot winds of a furnace, there is an odd calm, a rousing energy in the air, uncertainty, excitement.

Without warning sparks fly. The winds whip up and fire lashes its fury in the bush, in the fields and through homes, human or not. Flames lick the bark of gum trees, rogue pine explodes reminiscent of the nights of the Canberra Bush Fires seasons before. And in what seems like an instant of insanity and horror, the smoke clears and drifts lazily on. The flames have seemingly destroyed most in its path, raped the world of undergrowth.

But in tragedy, of all the death that came, triumph is seeded beneath the soil and has already begun to germinate in the heat of sorrow.

The Eyes

2008-10-07T20:58:00.003+11:00

Snails moving in the sea of dew and silver trails
in morning gloom, in morning pride
Moving slowly, patiently watching
The all seeing, all knowing eyes of God.

Sleepy twitters of rousing birds
Silence save for the sound of the universe
moving with great energy
Stars in the eyes of God.

Mid afternoon the dew has gone
cracked shells and baked corpses
pavement stained with silver trails
and the remnants of the all seeing, all knowing
eyes of God.

Hayfever

2008-09-19T22:37:00.002+10:00

Spring has sprung, unclouded weather, fauna frolicking, flora irritating my sinuses. Victa mowers harmonise in their neighbourhood choir, the sounds of saws and hammers hold the beat. Summer will once again be upon me. Lazy strolls and lazy rides around the lake. The chance meeting of Prince Charming perhaps. Although not looking for love, looking for peace.

Debutante blossoms, rebirth and light, I can emerge like a flower in the caress of the sun. Winter sadness and gloom lifted away, now is the time to grow and bloom. The season for love, for joy, for peace, for fulfilled dreams. Time to be social. Time to embrace my personality and all her quirks and oddities. I don't need people to appreciate me. To be free, and be, I must appreciate me.

Hello world, I come in peace.

Home Sweet Home

2008-09-18T09:27:00.003+10:00

They are tearing down a dilapidated shopping complex to make room for a giant hardware centre. In the process they have shifted and demolished three Victorian era cottages which not long ago had endured lavish paintwork and renovations.

Hard work. Sweat dripping to the new polished parquetry, all in hope to raise the value on an already expensive market. Only to be ripped apart to make room for a checkout and a spillage in Aisle 6.

All the roses, geraniums and irises, all who thrived as generations passed, ripped up and destroyed. The decaying roots under a Holden parked on the asphalt. A crying shame. On the bright side (whistles "Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life" - Monty Python), the purchases from the store will be used to renovate and construct more homes and gardens. An irony isn't it? The cycle repeats. Values increase. Destruction. Construction. Destroy. Create. Birth. Death.

It is one thing I hate to see, homes destroyed. In particular homes that have been built in an age gone by. I've always had a keen eye for architecture and design. Practical Art. When I first visited Glasgow I was literally in Heaven. I walked the same paths as my ancestors, appreciated the parks, statues and monuments my ancestors moved around. The Clyde! The views of my ancestors...

One wouldn't normally appreciate such things unless one was in my shoes. The lone Australian. Majority of my relatives strewn across the globe.

Will my children experience these same feelings?

Celebration

2008-09-11T18:11:00.003+10:00

My foot is still shooting up pain to the rhythm of the old woman shuffle with Zimmer frame. I don't believe one iota that the pain should be growing worse after all this time and after strapping it up and resting when I can.

Hard to believe that it's September. Summer is blowing on a distant breeze.

I had another series of strange dreams.

I was at the house, my father long dead and buried. The house and yard were dark. Rubbish and recycling bins overflowing. Mailbox clogged with letters, cards, overdue bills and decaying advertising material.

There was a party being held out the back, friends of my sister, brother and mother invited. A tall thin man with thin black glasses wearing a light checkered blue shirt kept hovering around me looking for opportunities to garner my attention and small talk. I did not know this man or many of these people in my yard, though my family moved through the crowd with ease. Nor did I care for this man, his attention and his blatant fondness for me.

I kept searching the faces of the guests for someone familiar to chat with. To be in company with. Searching for Chris.

A platter of cold meats, cheeses and fruit made rounds of the guests. I snared a cube of what I thought was cheddar cheese and popped in quickly in my mouth. Of all the horrors I have experienced in dreams, the vile taste of that cheese was the heart of the most atrocious and fearsome nightmares known to man. So I proceeded to dream spitting out that abominable excuse for a savoury bite as discreetly as possible. No luck. That man rushed to my side and started touching my arm. I excused myself and spent a good portion of that dream throwing up into a familiar toilet, one I spent a great deal of time acquainting with as a dieting teenager.

I've washed my hands and walked into the hall. No man. Sigh of relief. I'll blow this party and hole up in my bedroom like the old days. Boot up my ancient 486 and jot down some thoughts. The room is still much like how I left it all those years ago but has accrued more adult possessions and disorganisation. Crisp packets litter the quilt of the bottom bunk.

Knock on the door. Before I could answer he already invited himself in. I couldn't really tell him to get out, despite the fact it's my bedroom, my home and not my guest. It would be rather rude of me. I'll get in trouble. So I up and leave.

The wind has blown the window in, in the kitchen. My German Shepherd is outside barking off her brain. The party has moved on to some place else so I am free to go outside. I look over the fence and see my old Italian neighbour pottering around in his yard. Except it seems he has ceased to cultivate row upon row of Zucchini, Roma Tomatoes and the like. Even the odour of coffee beans roasting and being grounded in his garage no longer teases. I look at where his vegetable garden used to be, which not surprisingly, had encompassed the whole of his yard, to find pens of poultry gaily clucking away and scratching the dirt.

The feathers were bright, clean and groomed. The fowls quite jovial. Gigantic white eggs rolled about and cracked open to reveal chirpy chickens eager to grow and live. Excited I called out for the guests to come and see, even that man. No one came.

I went back inside and flopped silently on the couch.
"It's okay. It's okay," a familiar voice repeated., "I'm not going. I'm here. It's okay." Chris' arms wrapped themselves around me and we nodded off to sleep.

In reality my alarm was ringing.

Mind of Time

2008-08-31T19:18:00.002+10:00

Time is a mysterious force. Today I walked rather briskly listening to my mp3 player. "That Ain't Bad" - Ratcat playing. Somehow I managed to get all the way to the Salmon House with the song still rattling through the headphones. Surely I couldn't have walked so fast, it felt like an arduous trek across plains and through valleys. Of light and dark; life and death. The sky above me pregnant and labour threatening.

One step, two step, six and seven all good children go to heaven, wish I may wish I might have this wish I wish tonight. Salmon House flew by in the blink of an eye, in ten paces. The song changed to "Truth Beneath The Rose" - Within Temptation and the sky gave birth to millions of hail spawn, gaily bouncing down to the already sodden Earth.

Recycled Water In Use. I look past the sign, through the mesh and see the football oval, luminous green. I look up at the sky. Anyone could erect such a sign even in the tropics. Water is evaporated, condenses into clouds and the molecules do the Jitterbug and the Hot Shoe Shuffle and break away to form a liquid mass somewhere below for the cycle to continue.

Recycle.

The hedges that edge the lawn bowls club have some sort of strange perfume that randomly triggers memories lain hidden and dormant in my mind. This one scent in particular reminded me of carefully maintained lavatories in certain elderly people's bathrooms or social halls. Where have I been? Who are these strangers I can hardly see? They are the ghosts of the past, the present and of the future. They are ghosts from the lives I've never lived.

I decided to have some lunch at my workplace and read a tattered copy of the days paper. I felt like I had been sitting there for a hundred years but I think it was closer to twenty minutes when I left, passing the clock. I had sat at a table which was behind the one where a young boy has been seen on occasions holding a chain. My only 'paranormal' experience for the day was the complete lack of the presence of Time. Time cannot occur wherever my mind was all day.

I'm over at Grumpy's, it's now around six pm. He's been wandering about finding tools to sort out his CPU case problem. I'm lying on the couch all dressed in black save the white bandage strapped to my right foot. I have done something to it, just have no idea what or how. It's funny, odd, I can feel this sharp stabbing pain yet cannot pinpoint where the pain is resonating from. Whatever the injury turns out to be, the best remedy is strapping it up until it hurts no more.

And all I can do is think of Chris. He's virtually disappeared of the face of the planet. And it hurts more than the hurt I feel knowing that he doesn't love me or want to be mine. I can't talk to him, I can't see his face. I'm just haunted by the memories of time spent with him. Where are you tonight? Where are you? Is he even real?

Satanic Square Dance

2008-08-31T19:08:00.001+10:00

My father died and my mother was happy, my sister upset about legalities and debts.

Crucifix drawn on the wall with crudely made symbols. Brother explained that Satan told him that he was doing a square dance around the Cross.

Dad didn't get to say his farewells, rudely snuffed out. Mum was so sickenly happy. Me? Confused. Hand to stomach. What was happening? I was on a bus pointing out landmarks in a thick Scottish accent. That's Dundyvan Road, thats the home my Grandfather and I visited in a black Hackney cab. That used to be Magnet Mart. You have a Magnet Mart where you come from, don't you?

I spotted my boss sitting on some steps, I approached him and carefully told him I was pregnant. His response? We'll start you on the Cafe as soon as we can.

People came up bombarding me with questions, Who is the Father? How are you pregnant?

I didn't know how I was or who could possibly have fertilized me. I was confused. My dad is gone and my life felt like it had ended.

I wasn't me. But I was me. So confused.

The place I was in whirled around me faster and faster and in an instant I was back facing the wall with the Cross.

Camellia

2008-08-19T09:38:00.004+10:00

Glossy waxed leaves turn to face the sunlight which filters through the concrete clouds. Upon the gentle touch, photosynthesis resumes. Hungry for more precious photons for the chloroplasts. Hungry and wild. Ravenous and rabid.

A sparkling droplet of early morning rain disruptively crashes onto one particular leaf. A leaf usually lost in the crowded populace of the Mother Tree. Nothing too definitive about it save for a touch of mottling and this disturbing droplet. Still, the leaf carries on it's destined duties, continuing the conversion of sunlight and gas for another form of energy and matter, safe under the cuticle which covers it. The droplet decides to slide off to fall to the intended target, the Earth, who will embrace and swallow it down into the depths of it's soul.

The roots of the Mother Tree crawling blindly through the darkness in the hope of feeding from the Earth's hidden fruits, through the gift of osmosis this droplet and Earth present after their most Holy union.

In time the particular leaf aforementioned will have made room for more coworkers, clamouring hungrily for the light. A hard ball seemed to appear so quickly and quietly but day after day nothing else changed. Nothing else out of the ordinary. The same cycle of biosynthesis repeated over and over all for the Mother Tree.

And then one day a sliver of pale pink peeked out from the womb of the hard ball. Ever so slowly as the days repeated the dainty pink emerged, unfolding into petal upon petal, a rounded delicate beauty.

The leaves worked still in the presence of this wonder, energy converted to feed the Glorious one. In mornings she shed her robe of sparkling dew and danced gracefully with the breeze. And each day she grew more beautiful and heavy with joy.

The breeze grew tired of dancing the same dance with her. She was too beautiful and too great to partner with. Breeze violently morphed into a wicked wind and pressed suddenly into her body. Enough was enough. And with the sleight of his hand she dropped to Earth, with all the weight of her beauty which betrayed her.

The members of the Mother Tree had no time to mourn their fallen counterpart. Work had to continue as she rotted slowly to pieces of Earth.

Reflector

2008-08-18T22:16:00.003+10:00

It's been a couple of weeks and already I have noticed a difference in my mood and the general outlook on life. There is this numb nagging feeling in the corner of my mind that I have to be sad or worried about something. But in the present I really don't care. I just want to be.

Chris must have sensed my increased confidence and contentment. I think he did. He invited me over last week for some good old...well, intimacy. I'm not sure if it was awkward or not. I don't really care. It seemed like when we first started hanging out. I felt shy, I felt my cheeks betraying me. He said I looked good and he leaned over for a quick peck.

He doesn't love me, no. Likes me? Maybe. But I know what I feel. Yet again, I don't know anymore. I still can't see the lines of reality and unconciousness, that I know for sure. I'm still dreaming as I walk to therapy, as I serve the masses, as I wait for the bus, as I sit here and type and long for Chris. I still stand by my previous statement that he is indeed like the many lovers I have had, all rolled into one persona, one love, one light, the beacon in my so-called shiteous existance. Maybe that's a significant thing, maybe he represents the past and the need to move on with my life. Maybe he is the One. I don't know what this universe has planned for me.

And in the mess that was his bedroom there were pieces of looking glass woven into every object and every fibre therein. I could see his soul, his mind, his heart, him. A mystery. A wonderous mystery that will be forever unsolved, shelved in a dusty box in a dusty warehouse in the middle of nowhere. Frozen in time. Frozen in space.

I've been having fun with my talking shoe at work, although I think I'm starting to wear on my coworkers nerves.

I walked to therapy this afternoon reading a short science-fiction story, luckily not walking into any posts or cars but nearly knocked a lady over when I got to a gripping part. After therapy I walked down to the bus stop and attempted to finish the story but kept getting interrupted by the inane ghetto calls of 15 year old girls to passing cars. Unfortunately two of those girls and their male counterpart (clad in the most ridiculous golden metallic cap I have ever seen) caught the same bus as I. For the duration of the bus trip the other passengers and I had to endure the unpleasantries such as loud mouthing, crude language and their phone set up like a mini stereo and thumping out loudly obscene gangsta rap filled with such eloquent lyrics "Mother fucker beating on my nigger" etc. Oh never mind the feet on the seats and the disregard for the elderly passengers. And they didn't even get kicked off which really got to me.

My eyes flashed up every so often from the pages of my book to see one of the girls staring at me. She didn't say anything, which I had feared she would, I suppose my absolute disgust and possible higher intellect backed her off a bit. I was tempted to be a juvenile myself when I got off at my stop to stick my finger up at them. But I thought it was more appropriate to keep walking and know that my taxes are going to help them in rehab or help them in the form of Legal Aid.

Yay for the youth of today.

Coincidence

2008-08-10T05:58:00.002+10:00

On Friday our white dove Magic became a father for the first time (after years of trying) to two twin white doves.

And on the same day one of the black sheep gave birth to twin black lambs.

I hope all are doing well.

Acid Rain

2008-08-08T17:18:00.003+10:00

The Olympics opening ceremony is due to start in just over 4 hours. Shall I watch? Of course, the occasional swimming race for me. Nothing compares to the swimming at Sydney...and feeling so patriotic from my living room. I had an old schoolmate that was participating in the Paralympics, and I watched her from Scotland...sadly she didn't do too well, but I know she's still at it. Good luck to her, wherever she is.

8 is supposed to be a lucky, prosperous number. 08/08/08. In Numerology, the date also adds up to 8. There have been quite a few earthquakes in China in the past 6 months. Lucky? Sharon Stone famously said it was their Karma. Was it? Was it the civilians? The peasants? The children? The horses? The goats?

God gives life, he taketh away.

The world is indeed changing rapidly. Hotter Summers, Colder Winters, More Earthquakes, Floods and Storms. Is it our fault? Sure. Damn right. Some blame is to lie with Mother Nature. But in science and indeed religion, everything happens for a reason. Disasters are a test of faith. Day to day living is a test of faith. The bear is about to emerge from the acid rain riddled woods and stones... Babylon is about to fall.

Not at least until the stock market completely crashes.

In other writings, Holly had another panic attack at work yesterday and then burned her hand on a grill wearing plastic gloves. And the shrink wants to see me twice a month now and my medication has been raised. Ho hum.

If A Vow

2008-07-28T20:51:00.002+10:00

No idea where to really begin or where to head this or what I'll end up saying.

I had to know once and for all where I stood. I asked and got the answer I expected so ho hum tough luck Holly better luck next time.

I shared my previous post with a friend and he said it was scary. How is that scary? Try living with what's inside my head.

I've been sick with a stomach virus for the past few days and now the chest infection is coming back. Yay.

I haven't been sleeping well, and my appetite has gone to crazy town. Next stop, the Mad Hatter's Tea Party.

And the fact that Chris doesn't actually love me. Well. Bugger eh? Shit happens? C'est la vie? Such is life?

Forgive me, I feel used. I feel completely led on. He told me I was gorgeous. He kissed me and cuddled me and held me so close. He wanted to spend time with me. He wanted to sleep with me for crying out loud!

So I'm the idiot that fell so madly for someone who I thought and perhaps still do was perfect. Serves me right. Karma definately is a bitch.

And where my mind is at. Well. Let's just say I can't see the difference between dreams and reality.

:|

Delusion

2008-07-21T00:12:00.002+10:00

Back inside my icy refuge. In time the frost will melt when this body of mine heats up. How on Earth can I dare to be warm? Dare to be alive? I feel as cold as these blankets. So much for moments of clarity. So much for becoming harder than stone. So much for not allowing anything permeate. Beyond hurting? Gosh. Deluded much?

Currently listening to "I know you know I know" - Tex Perkins. My mp3 player, on random, mocks me. The chirpy quirky happy ducks on the mantle across from me mock me too. At least the knife underneath this bed, directly below me doesn't mock me. Hello my friend, my shiny solace.

I walked hurriedly into the dark save the moon shining fiercely in it's full phase luminescence. The pavement glowed a gentle yet haunting pale pearl. Stop lights reflecting in the rain on the road. Seagulls squawking, crying, flying. If I close my eyes it's not cold, it's not wet, it's not night. I really am at the seaside. There really is sand running between my toes. The sun is kissing my cheeks with it's warm mouth.
Warm. Mouth. Sweat. Kisses. Love. Urgent. Want. Need.
Something pierced my heart and I'm still walking aimlessly in the night.

It's not love Holly if it's not reciprocated. You're a fool. You're pathetic. How dare you believe that you deserve something special after everything you've ever done.
No. Don't ignore me. Don't push me out. Listen to your mind. After all *I* am the one that's been with you since the moment you emerged from the nether abyss, grasped by the doctor's hand. I'm all you have. I'm the only one you can trust. I am the closest you'll ever be to love.
Now I can see you've seen my truth. Doesn't hurt so bad now does it?

You can bleed from the most malicious of wounds but the blood always ceases to flow. It clots. The wound mends. If you're lucky Holly, there won't even be a scar.
Scars are there to remind you why. Remind you of the pain you endured.

Let it flow.

Recieved

2008-07-19T22:13:00.002+10:00

Tad the Wonder D*ck.

I don't know who you are. If you're who I think you are, then I'm sorry for the way I've made you feel. Something I lament, regret everyday. If you're not who I think you are and I don't know you at all...how can I add you?
20:44:49 01-01-06

Actually if you're who I think you are, I haven't forgotten you. And I think you think that I think you're someone else but I think I know who you are and my previous statement still stands.
20:59:22 01-01-06

I already called, you hung up. And I miss what we had, that is not a lie. And I am deeply sorry for everything that happened. Choose to believe that or not. It's up to you. And I am sorry to inform you, I have no friends. Since I moved, I've had no intentions of making any. The friends I had before I moved were the best ones I ever had and that includes you. I do class you as a friend, I'm just shit scared of you. Don't ask why, cos I dunno...just...yeah. I won't call if all you're gonna do is say no and hang up.
21:26:26 01-01-2006

It feels weird seeing you again...but a good kind of weird I guess. At least I didn't throw up. Send another if you like, I ain't goin no place for awhile.
04:51:17 02-01-2006

Hehe, you still have that top. You look good.
04:53:15 02-01-2006

Holly, you were always my first priority. And you sorta still are, I'm taking a while to reply because I'm not sitting at my PC like I was the other night. I was in the kitchen. I only come back to the computer to check if you've sent anything. And if you haven't whem I check I start to worry. Don't tell me you're my last priority even though we're not together I still hold you higher than most people I class as friends. I don't know what meant by trading then for now... I don't know what you want from me. I want to be your friend. I love being your friend. But from what you just sent me it sounds like you want more. I don't know what you meant. It could just be me being lame. I don't know.
21:28:46 06-01-2006

It might be hard for you to believe but I always thought of you. Even if I didn't really want to.
16:29:55 07-01-2006

It was my failure...if I had just trusted you instead of listening to other people things would be different. It was my failure to you as a friend and as a partner.
16:45:18 07-01-2006

I don't want to tell you what's inside of me because it scares the fuck out of me to know that I still feel that.
20:49:29 07-01-2006

You don't know what I have inside me Holly. From what you just said I can tell you don't want me to feel it either. It scares me to think that I do still think that.
20:58:03 07-01-2006

If I say it then I validate it. I don't know if I want to put it out there...
21:00:01 07-01-2006

It might break both of our hearts if I said it. I've probably said it to you millions of times and taken it for granted. And the one time I wanna say it and mean it...I can't. Because I don't want to open myself again. I promised myself I'd never open up enough to be hurt. I don't want to be hurt again.
21:04:36 07-01-2006

I'm sorry Holly but I can't tell you. Like I said, I don't want to get hurt.
21:08:10 07-01-2006

Maybe I still love you. Maybe that's why I can't tell you.
21:44:03 07-01-2006

Truth? The truth is I do love you.
21:56:07 07-01-2006

It's been dead for a long time. I don't know if it's right to love you. Especially since you have someone and since it's just going to ruin your perfect life. If I'm out of your life everything will be better.
22:12:59 07-01-2006

I'm sorry if you can't trust me Holly, but everything I said was the truth. When we were together I loved you more than anything. I wanted to marry you for fuck's sake! I just don't go around wanting to marry anyone I see. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you...
21:53:35 09-01-2006

Needless to say, he was full of shit anyway. He said he stopped talking to that Italian *whore* since she apparently cheated on him. She was the one that broke us up. Her and our supposed friends that spread rumours about me cheating. I never did. He was my life, my love, he made me sane, he helped me recover from anorexia. Why would I do something so horrible to someone I cherished so?

Turns out in the end, everything Tad said above was bullshit. He and that Italian *whore* were still together...ish. God knows. He said he stopped talking, but that was definately a lie. Somehow she got my number, my email addresses etc. She threatened to hunt me down and kill me. Called me "So ugly that even if you were hit by a train that wouldn't fix your uglyness you fat freak"

So juvenile. And she works at an Electronic games boutique in Sydney and a Lawyer's firm? For Christs sake. I pray along Bruce's lines, Karma gets her in the end.

I look back now with older eyes at those above texts Tad sent me, now I see, it was plainly f*cking with me for his own gain. To think I felt sorry for him. I guess I still do, in a different context. I don't think he was manipulated at all, I just think he's an arsehole.

Pending Arrival Part 2

2008-07-18T01:13:00.003+10:00

To view part 1 click here.

We've been walking for what seemed like days but the sun never set nor did it rise. The clouds have not moved. The wind did not change. Sand turned to soil, Spinifex into shrubs, umbrellas to houses. The parrot decided to perch on the girls shoulder when I stooped to carry her on mine.

We have walked into a township. Residents are outside, tying branches to trees with haywire in the mud. Children are trying to ride their bicycles to be bogged again and again in the mud. The dogs seem to be having the most fun, chasing each other and splashing mud over the working adults. "That storm was a fierce one," a man said, coming over "We seem to have more storms these days. This weather is getting crazy. You look like you could both do with a rest and a feed. I'm going to make some sandwiches, come." Normally I wouldn't entrust some random stranger, especiallly if I have another so young in my care. There is something about this man that does feel familiar though. This place is familiar. Those dogs are familiar. His home is bright and aerated.

Sandwiches filled with cold meat and salad are placed in front of us and we dig in, munching in silence until he speaks. "I've just gotten back a week ago. I've had such a wonderful time away. Now this has happened and I have to start over again. Nice doll you have there," he nods to the girl. She shrinks behind me and her eyes gaze off dreamily to some unknown place. "There are people coming for you both shortly. I had a phone call before the storm came. Some friends of yours I presumed. They mentioned that there was a flight you were supposed to be on and it was delayed and that the flight cannot go ahead without both of you on board. Rest easy my friends, they shall be here soon."

What people? Why? Who?

I looked behind me to see the little girl playing with her ribbons and playing with her doll.

The ribbons reminded me of a task I had previously, of searching for a wedding dress. Simple, elegant, feminine. I never did manage to find what I was looking for, but by judging those ribbons, I had an idea.

The doorbell rings some minutes later.

To be continued....

Future Thinking

2008-07-17T20:39:00.002+10:00

Right now my mind is at a place where I am actually thinking positively and thinking about my future.

I've been looking around at various Tertiary Institutions looking for a course or degree that suits my desire. I plan to either go down the road of the Sciences or go down the road of Organic Farming. Or both. :)

My plan is to spend my life working hard, outdoors, building something with my own two hands for my family if I ever get that blessed. Also I'd rather work with animals and plants or beakers and testtubes than with people. Less abuse. Less panic attacks. Works in well with my mental illness.

I honestly cannot afford university at this current moment. Sure I could go on the HECS scheme but who's to say I can afford to pay it all over 10 years? And still have to pay out of pocket over the course/degree duration around $20,000. Yeah, not this chicken. Not at the moment.

So I've been looking at courses that interest me and will give me some insight into the areas I might like to work in and what I actually want to learn for the sake of quenching my thirst for knowledge. There's a course in Laboratory work that I'll apply for and it starts next year. Who knows where that would take me?

It's funny. People have told me I should be many things. I should be a nurse. I should be a teacher. I should be a writer. I should be a musician. I should be a veternarian. I should be a medical doctor. My lack of self-esteem confines me to the believe that I should just hide under a rock and forget about doing anything so important.

But when I'm not feeling so depressed or suicidal or silly, right this moment for instance, I think about the future and what *I* actually want to achieve in this lifetime. I want to be a mother and a wife above all things and do something with my life that helps my family grow.

Pending Arrival

2008-07-16T13:40:00.002+10:00

The aeroplane is ready for take off, ready to fly me to another unknown destination. The cabin is warm, snug althought quite messy with toddler toys strewn about. Surely it's a safety hazard? Abort. There's a missing child. The child isn't on the plane. "This is your Captain speaking," comes the faint crackling voice, "This flight has suffered a setback. The plane will be taxied into the terminal to commence boarding of missing passengers. There will be a significant delay and we ask you to remain seated until further direction. We thank you and apologise for the inconvienience."

Children are crying. Dogs are barking. It's getting awful stuffy in here.

"Come and help us!" a woman in brown beseeches, "We must find this child. This flight has to arrive at the destination!"

It's dark outside the cabin. Wind has started to howl, rain whipped down, a storm was threatening. What happened to the sun, to the clear day? As if the woman in brown read my thoughts, she pulled me down the aisle and off the plane. "No time to ponder on life's mysteries, dear, we have work to do. Here, take this doll and follow me."

The terminal was bustling with frantic passengers and equally as frantic Airport staff. So hot in here, I thought. There were bags of luggage left haphazardly next to the luggage carosels and in front of empty counters. Where are we going?

The woman in brown led me through a food court full of college students and blue-collared workers. Why are they all here? Sniffing the air, my stomach craved cheeseburgers and fries. "No. No time. We have work to do," came the seemingly telepathic woman in brown. We came upon a doorway although it was blocked by revelling Irishmen and an old Swaggie. The woman in brown somehow disappeared through the door, leaving myself facing these men and trying to get past.

"What's this you're trying to pull?" one asks.
"You'll never get out," said another.
"I've been out bush for months on end, searching for sacred things, searching for the wisdom lost from Abe's men for many years before mine," came the voice from the old Swaggie. "You'll find it. Aye, that much is true. It's not in the barrel here nor on the dartboard over there. Go, you have to hurry, there are wings waiting to take you."

"Thank you, bless you Sir!" I called graciously as I pushed past the Irishmen. The woman in brown was waiting. A little impatient. Tapping her feet and clucking her tongue.

We are walking barefoot on sand. There is a cool, crisp breeze sighing past my cheeks and through my hair. Children are laughing. Dogs are panting. Birds fluttering gaily to and fro. A parrot splashed with brilliant greens and purples seemed to take a liking to me and landed on my shoulder, refusing to budge. There is a little girl underneath the shade of a white umbrella.

"Over there," the woman in brown points.

I saunter towards the girl. She is about four or five years of age, soft light hair in pigtails, dressed in ribbons and an impish grin. Dark green eyes look up at me and strikes the heart of my soul. I offer the doll to her.

She stands, takes the doll with one hand and slides the other into mine. Well this is easy, I thought as we walked along the beach towards the door. Where's the door?

"Hey wait! We need to get back, where is the door?" I ask turning to face the woman in brown. She's gone. My heart sinks. I'm left on a strange beach with a missing child. This can't be good.

To be continued...

Passive

2008-07-15T10:16:00.002+10:00

It's cold tonight and my pillows are sagging and shrinking.

I enjoy hanging out.

Say it. Say it is the only thing you care about.

I'm sorry.

Say it. I'm nothing. I'm the sizeable lump of dirt caught underneath your nail.
Say it. Say "You fucking disappoint me!"

My head is whirling. I'm here. I'm there. Where am I now?

I had a nap before therapy. Figured I was feeling exhausted from the marathons my mind was racing.

And it happened again.

I'm there, here, curled up on my bed, still in my coat, still wearing my clothes from the previous night. A force was standing next to my bed. It was my mother, her undeniable accent, booming away as I lay. What's this? Another force, my niece calling Auntie, Auntie. Giggling and bouncing about the room as I lay, still, not moving.

It's a dream, it's a dream I continued to shout silently.

Someone is lying next to me, invisible and tugging me towards them. It's a dream, why can I feel this?

I'm up at the front door. I can see my housemates have arrived home and are walking through the gate. But I am still curled up on my bed listening to the banter of the many familiar female voices in my room. I can hear my housemate walking through the house talking about work and talking about people. Doors are opened, doors are closed.

My feet are cold. I'm shivering and someone keeps pulling at me.

Mum shut up!

That's it. No, no this is just a dream, wake up, wake up, wake up. It's painful to open the eyes. They are so heavy like stone.

It's cold. I eventualy gain the courage to get off my bed and go out into the hall. I look out the front, my housemates aren't even home yet. I look at the time. Oh dear, going to be late. There goes my wine money for a fortunate cabbie that needs the fare.

Head feeling like it's been packed in cotton. Oh yes, that's right, stupid Holly was too busy pleasuring herself the previous night that she forgot her meds.

What's Love Got To Do With It?

2008-07-14T21:33:00.002+10:00

Sheesh. Holly couldn't keep her pants on long enough when it comes to Chris. You know, that guy she is absolutely smitten with. The one who doesn't want her in any other way but perhaps friendship and...well..yeah, you know.

I really missed talking to him. I missed his company. Just seeing his photo next to his words made me feel all weak and powerless inside. I had to. I had to be with him. He doesn't want to hurt me. I said, I'm beyond hurting. How can he hurt me more? I just need what I desire so badly.

He came and picked me up and we went back to his place. We watched a movie, had a drink, had a smoke and had sex. The whole time, thoughts whizzing around my head "I want this man, I want this man, I want this man." Do I?

I woke up, our arms and legs entwined. Without sounding like a sicko, I watched him, looked at what it seemed every hair on his face, his head, his neck... how simply devine the colour of his hair. How black yet so colourful his hair. His smell. His smell is so homely. When I smell it, good memories as a child are stirred up. There aren't many, but they are of the nursing kind, to send me to sleep, to chase away the badness.

Sunlight started to pour into the room onto us. I could see the dust floating around, peacefully, gracefully, rising, falling, like his sweet breath, blessing us. The dust sparkling in the light reminded me of bubbles in the sea. I felt underwater, undercover, safe and sound. The alarm kept beeping, time was running out. But for those waking hours, it felt like my lifelong mission was complete.

Winter

2008-07-11T18:14:00.002+10:00

I love Winter. I love seeing my breath float away in front of me, to vanish at some distance. I love to slip and slide on the grass in the mornings when I feel that the crunching sound underfoot doesn't sound as fun. I love walking past houses and their gardens to see the springtime bulbs clamouring excitedly for their time to shine.

Winter for me has always been about withdrawing from life and shutting down. If it were holidays, I would spend most of it curled up in bed with a cup of tea, reading and listening to the rain. If it were school term, I'd pretty much do the same.

Sometimes I would daydream about the coming of Spring, the scent of Summer, another year, another age.
Would I be popular this year?
Will I fall in love?
Will I get straight As?

The only dream that ever came true at the end of each Winter were the tulips, hyacinths, daffodils, jonquils and the like, blooming proudly in my garden or the gardens I passed.

A friend in need is a friend indeed, a friend with weed is better.

2008-07-11T01:00:00.000+10:00

So here is Holly, still reeling from the previous week, thighs mending from the frienzed
symphony created with some random kitchen knife she found at Grumpys.

Head still spinning with suicidal thoughts and thoughts of dinner.

I hadn't talked to my friend Stan in quite awhile. Feeling depressed and wanting his company

I dress myself up, put on my makeup and walk in the night to his house. Unfortunately
meeting Grumpy in a carpark on my way.

"Need a ride?"

"No thanks..."

"Where are you going?"

"Friends..."

"Oh....."

Stan and I met up with the promise of sex and pot and a good time. And it was achieved.

Suddenly Holly wasn't in her depressed and pessimistic state of mind anymore. She was
traversing the universe with her Space Friend Stan. She flew towards stars, she opened doors
of all shapes and sizes to one world to another. She felt each word, each thought, each
feeling accentuate and create a rhythm that her ears had never heard before.

She felt Stan shapeshift into that lover she craves so, the one who broke her heart... she
felt him shapeshift into a stranger....an animal...she felt him shapeshift back into Stan,
her friend, her Space Friend and they jumped off this planet and fell into another world.

After a time all I could hear was his breathing and the rain falling hard on the roof and I
fell into a deep slumber.

You Took My Heart...Decieved Me Right From The Start...

2008-07-10T22:05:00.002+10:00

So what is news in the land of Holly? Or as I've come to term, Planet Zygaborthas.

Over three years of my life with Grumpy null and void. No more. It's done.

I've moved in with some friends of mine and it's nice so far.

About two weeks after Grumpy and I broke up, I was complaining to a friend online about my lack of cigarettes and dire need of said cigarettes. Sure enough, there he arrived on his motorcycle at my front door. And wow. Just wow. When he sat down on the step next to me, I could see him for the first time alone. And just wow. I honestly felt like I had been bashed around the head with a frying pan. It felt like we were only talking for an hour but when my housemate came home at 1am we were suprised we had been talking for so long. Talking and smoking. Just wow.

He invited me over to his place another night to watch movies etc... I was cool with that although I warned I was very sleepy. So he sat in his chair, I lay on his bed and tried my hardest not to fall asleep. The second movie came on and he decided to join me on the bed....suddenly we were cuddling....suddenly we were kissing....suddenly...suddenly.... Did you like me in that way too? All my emotions turned into a virtual tsunami.

Then we started hanging out more often. He'd cook sometimes and invite my housemates over too. Gosh he can cook. One night afterwards we were standing outside smoking and shivering a little in the cold. I remember seeing how his eyes were shining in the light....I've never seen such beauty in a man's eyes before. Sounds silly. He turned and said to me "You're gorgeous." Me? I'm too stuck for words for being in awe of this man.

We made love plenty of times. He to date has been the only man to ever satisfy me. With him somehow I let go of all my emotional baggage and was totally free. Totally happy. Of all the lovers I have ever had, all those things, quirks etc that I fell for, were in him all rolled into one. When I am with him I am weak in the knees, giddy, I feel like I am in one of those rare good dreams I never want to end. He's a pure fantasy but he's real. When I am without him, reality comes creeping back and swallows me back in. I'm back to same sorrowful Holly.

Time together, time apart. Crunch time. No. No he doesn't want me. He doesn't want me. Maybe still 'hang out'?

How on Earth does a heart get broken again if it's already broken?

Sure, I'm angry right this minute. But still, the thought of him still makes me swoon. Oh Holly.

As The World Turns

2008-07-09T12:19:00.003+10:00

How quickly time flies. How emotions rise and fall; how people come and go; how the Earth day in and day out, continues to spin.

How often a heart breaks, mends with the love and warmth of another and breaks apart once more to be mended again.

How often a person draws their final breath as another draws their first.

How hard it can be to carry on and how many times one has looked back wondering why is was hard to begin with and to feel a sense of pride in what it is to be successful and never have given up that hope.

To look in the smiling eyes of the ones who have come after us. To see the hope, amazement, wonder, awe in the eyes. Did I feel the same back then?

I have been fortunate. I have been unfortunate. Such is life. I've had strength. I have been weak.

The challenge seems to get more difficult as time wears on, as the world continues to turn slowly. My strength falters more so. I'm weak, too weak, so I have cut my ties to those whom I love, those I don't want to drag down into my despair.

A Place For My Head......

2008-04-01T21:41:00.002+11:00

Hooray I have some awesome awesome super awesome news. My father and I are now talking and omg we are so alike in every way. I feel like I have fallen in love again, except this man, he is so like me it is scary. I really don't understand why I have been so afraid after all these years.

Word Up

2008-01-24T20:01:00.000+11:00

So the whole world is talking about (I bloody hope!) Heath Ledger's passing.

When I was 13 I was listening to my favourite radio programme, they were talking about this new movie coming out and played a song from it that pretty much became one of my favourite songs of all time.

"It's coming round again
the slowly creeping hand
Of time and its command
Soon enough it comes
And settles in its place
Its shadow in my face
Puts pressure in my day

This life well it's slipping right through
my hands
These days turned out nothing
Like I had planned "

These Days - Powderfinger (if you get the song, make sure it's the 99 version)

I was a very angry hurting 13 year old that just discovered 'Bulimia' cheers to my father beating me in my room and a handy garbage bag.

My sister would take myself or my brother and I out to the pictures to see whatever was on. Two Hands was one my sister and I saw, and I was so looking forward to seeing it after the reviews I heard on my favourite radio programme. That movie has been and probably will be forever, my favourite movie of all time. There have been and are so many instances when I think of that movie. I have seen it so many bloody times, different versions, etc, crikey, I could never ever ever get sick of it. One of those movies that has so many hidden innuendos in it. So devine.

And thus started high school crush on Heath Ledger.

I then saw 10 things I hate about you with my first ever proper High School boyfriend on one of our first dates and swooned some more.

Then they showed Roar on Fox8 which I watched religiously and made sure my brother taped missed episodes of it when my mother and I were in Scotland. Heath Ledger's character in Roar was Conor and for years and years and years and years I have wanted to call my first born Conor in honor of that character and my celtic roots. When my mother and I were overseas travelling from Scotland to America, The Patriot showed twice on the plane and twice long I swooned and swooned and my mother knows now just how much I am devastated by his loss. Not just a high school/teenage crush, I deeply admired him. He was too young. Sure he had issues, don't we all? But he was never as wild and wacky as Anna Nicole Smith or Pete Doherty or Amy Winehouse.

I was hoping he'd outlive me and I would go on swooning until my dying day.

Two Hands.

Favourite movie ever. With favourite actor and favourite music. (Powderfinger, Alex Lloyd, etc)

As Fucked Up As It All May Seem...I Cannot Blame This On My Father...

2008-01-22T22:43:00.000+11:00

Blah where is Daddy Cool when you need them?

I'm feeling like utter crap. Maybe it's the hormones and the whole thing that I'm bleeding profusely because that's my womenly duties. Maybe it's working 7 days straight? Or the teenagers next door? Or workmen outside?

I'm frightened of telling my shrink when I see him about my panic/anxiety attacks, he'll just tell me I need to raise my dosage but fuck I don't think I can handle any more! I just need to work out somehow with my therapist what the hell is going on with me that causes them and how to deal. Sure, loud obscene, intrusive noises freak the fuck out of me. Like a car backfiring or teenagers blasting their gangsta rap or a workman sawing guttering.

What do I think, what do I think. I think someone is coming to get me. Someone knows where I am and they are taunting me. Hey little bitch, I might be sawing some guttering but I know you're in there and I am watching, waiting for you. Does that sound nuts? Seems perfect sense to me. Is it PTSD? I don't know. My therapist has likened it to PTSD but I'm too scared to ask properly. Sure, what has happened in my life is like a warzone, but hey, isn't that supposed to happen to everyone? I just can't help but think that anyone out there is out there to hurt me. Because that is what has happened. Not just my Dad or my family or old friends/lovers. It's just always.

Yeah fuck it. The answer is I am weak.

What happens to the weak in the wild?

Don't they just die out? Why haven't I died out?

And if I am feeling this way and having these problems, how come my siblings seem just fine just fine? Eh? Maybe because I am WEAK.

Summer Breeze

2008-01-07T10:50:00.000+11:00

Hello :)

I just got back from my road trip with my partner and his friends on Friday. We travelled along the Great Ocean Road and then up throught the Grampians. If you haven't done the Ocean Road it is one of the things you must do before you die.

Hot summer days but the ice cool coastal breezes along the way were heavenly. Wind blown from Antarctica I imagine or hope. It was funny too, driving to Cape Otway through the bush and seeing so many Koalas. I've never seen so many in one day. Now I have seen plenty of Kangaroos, Pure blooded Dingos, Emus and Platypuses and all manner of native bird. All in my backyard, I do feel lucky.

Then it was straight back to work for two days and I have the day off today and I for one, intend to enjoy it. Just chilling out alone.

It's flooding again up in the area where my mother is but I don't think it has affected them this time. Regardless I hope the cattle are okay.

And as I type I looked over at my fish tank and they've gone and clouded up all the water again. They ripped out their plant last week and shred it to bits. Usually it would grow back but 2 days ago they went silly again and ate the stalks of their plant. I've had them for a year and a half and they've never done that before to this degree.

The internet seems to be working again. It hasn't disconnected once since yesterday afternoon.

And touching on Bruce's comment about revelry and drunken celebrations. I don't do parties. It's an occasional thing for me. Last one I went to was my next-door neighbours engagement and that was low key. New Years Eve I sat and drank alone once again. Went outside for smokes here and there and another next door neighbour had a party on. They were sitting out in their backyard and I felt so alien around this noises and laughter and pleasantries and oh I don't know but I just felt completely alien.

Our fuckwit teenage neighbours decided once again to have a party on Saturday. No notification. Who gives a fuck if I have to be up at 5am for work? At least they didn't have the music up as loud as last time and they had less people. However the baaaad music, gangsta rap and really bad techno was still pumping clearly through my bedroom and even the living room where I decided to sleep, with two fans going ear to ear in an attempt to drown the noise out and keep cool. Didn't work. Young men up and down the driveway with their drunken laughter and some idiot young woman shrieking all the time I just wanted to wring her neck. Cars tooting their horns.

Next morning when I was going to the car for work, I noticed that either the fuckwit neighbours or their friends decided to snap an old lightpost from it's foundations and left it on the grass. For what, shits and giggles?

Makes me more adamant to get a new place.

Or go on a killing spree.

Suicidal, Suicidal...Beautiful Girl

2007-12-31T22:10:00.000+11:00

This New Year is more like that weird guy with the hat and all in Daddy Cool's Eagle Rock. You know the stoner silly bugger at the chippie? Yeah. I'm that for 2008 except everyone is more stoned and more fucked up than me. Everyone calls me nuts. But hey seriously, my world seems more sane.

2008 I plan to eventually become vego again. People will apparently quit smoking, cut down on booze. Fuck that. I'd rather do it for the cows. Poor angels.

Grumpy is blaming me for his obesity and blaming me for this and that. He didn't seem to pleased when I reminded him last time the bells were ringing, he was online chatting up his whores.

What do I care?

I plan to see out 2008 as the last God forsaken year on this planet. Time to return home methinks.

My good mates are suffering overseas. Oppressed. Bah so depressing. I wish I could give them the freedom I apparently enjoy or should, in this country. But what can I do? Put a bullet to the brain? No gun, sorry, Howard took care of that.

2008 will be just like every other year, worse than the previous. Flashbacks? My sister in a catfight, Dad drunk, Singing "I walk with a swagger" Tom Green on the Pier without realising the bells had been and gone, Dancing to "Numb/Encore" with my killer knee-high boots and halter top I got years previously from the US, Rowing myself about with a broom on a swivel chair with a ripped Cheezels box on my head proclaiming "I am Harry Pothead!" and then ending up in the bathroom slicing the backs of my thighs to bits with some guys razor, Messaging Tad the Wonder Dick of an Ex to tell him I'm glad Karma got him in the end and it turns out it never did he was just fucking me over again with his lies, Drinking alone watching Matthew Newton make a sillyhead of himself on national tv and have Grumpy eventually wander through to wish me a happy new year after the bells.

Most likely going to be a repeat of that. Happy New Year honey, you made me fat, you make me miserable but I won't let you fuck off this planet, you have to fucking suffer, he'll say.

At least this year I'll be making burgers and drinking like it's 1999. Except 1999 was fun. I think.

Tis the season to be Postal.....

2007-12-27T21:34:00.000+11:00

Hope everyone had a happy holiday. Super on this end.

Went back to work today, seemed alright to begin with, after all, I didn't have my morning coffee or anything, I was super!

A co-worker was taking some guys order, I was coming up behind her, to get some drinks to give to customers that were coming up. Sounded good. Normal. He seemed to have finished ordering and the co-worker asked what kind of bread he would like. Normal. Not to this guy! He went NUTS. "THIS HAPPENS EVERY F*CKING TIME, I'M INTERRUPPTED THIS IS SHIT I WANT THE MANAGER HOW DARE YOU ASK ME THIS AND INTERUPT ME" *insert another super long rant*

She let him finish his order in the first place, she was just doing her job asking what kind of bread he preferred. Noooo this guy didn't care. We got the manager and he wasn't happy, he wanted the STORE manager, we were dispicable. He actually said that. He came up to my window but I refused to open it and ignored him. He went to the next one and the other co-worker refused to open it until 2 managers came down. If he went nuts over bread, he might have had a gun. He was obviously looking for a fight.

I don't care if he had a shitty christmas or whatever excuse is given. Try having christmases with an alcoholic father eh. Try having a christmas day like the poor sod on the train given a text to say his brother topped himself. This guy apparently has done it a few weeks ago too.

Bah. It's more understandable if he was asked if he would like Fries with his order!

Hotdawg, We Have a Weiner.....

2007-12-19T00:19:00.001+11:00

Hello!

My ugly tootsies are saying hiiiiii. And a huge fudging OW. A co-worker accidently stomped on my foot a few hours ago, in an angular direction. (beach volleyball)

I know that bruises and stuff means more than likely it's not broken but that foot right there? It's seen at least one proper break in it's day. And I'm sure there are more wee ones that healed up awkwardly. I used to be a long distance runner, one day when I was 12 I felt something snap during PE and that foot was never the same. I didn't know it was broken until I was 17 and way too late. I thought and my mother/fellow students that I was a wimp and being stupid. Meh. Anyway this canes hardcore. The bruising is up in the top bit of the toe but there is this god awful lump in the diagonal lower right bit of that toe. And it kinda hurts a wee tad. I can't actually bend it at all without shouting out all manner of speech a demonic tongue would.

So after therapy in the morning I'm going to traipse off to the doctors for their opinion. Can't afford an X-ray atm but meh, just as long as I have some idea what is rocking with it and how to deal.

Oh and the deformed toe from teh accidentz when I was 12? Right next to the big toe. The bone was fractured below the second toe, so there is this weird deformity lump thingy happening. Hoo haa!

Seriously that foot is the worst of the lot. I had a foot test done recently to check my feet and what shoes I will need and the thingo showed that I have a lot of pressure on the other foot compared to that one. I told the guy doing it that it was because of that accident and I've made myself not rest on it whenever I could.

On the brightside, an hour after this current problem arose, I could still do the chicken dance. Like to see myself do that NOW.

Boxes

2007-12-12T12:03:00.001+11:00

I took this photo on the way home from therapy today. We were discussing how I have itemised different "Me"s into different compartments and boxes. Me from 1999, me from 1989, me from 2 weeks ago etc. It's like I am completely different person every day, or every hour.

And discussing my facade. People in real life think I am this happy, jovial, silly person. They say this to my face. It really angers me. Hello, I'm in pain. I'm angry, I'm incredibly depressed. I'm violent. I'm lonely. But they can't see because I hide it so well. I don't want to look like my father on the outside, someone to fear.

Inside it's like a bank vault, full of different boxes and safes and things. Incarnations of me jump out at random to dust themselves off, to stretch their legs and have conversations of the past and offer opinions on the present.

We also talked about how 'finely' tuned I am to my environment. How alert I am to percieved dangers. Are they coming to get me? Are they going to kill me? Are they going to hurt me and break me down again? Am I going to fall to pieces today or the next? Are my friends going to abandon me again? Will it be as hard or harder to make friends this time around?

Not only is my hearing and sight on high alert, it appears my smell is too. I hate walking into the house and have these foreign smells wafting about. Yesterday when I came home it smelled like a library. You know that special smell libraries seem to have? Right now, this instant, I smell blood. Old blood. You know, blood that has been sitting around for awhile. Stagnating. Maybe it's coming from miles down the road. I don't know.

Maybe it has something to do with the anxiety I felt when I got inside the house, when I saw one of the scary neighbours was walking behind me and gave me a funny look. Fucking bitch.

A Friend In Need...

2007-12-09T22:47:00.000+11:00

Here is a serious question I shall pose at the end of this short 'story'.

A man goes off to war. He lives everyday with the knowledge that despite all his armor and weapons and bullets and skill, the very moment he lives could be the last. People want him dead. They want him dead. He kills men everyday. It's his job, it's his duty. He sees his mates get wounded. He sees things that he never wants to see ever again yet it haunts him every night.

He returns home. He finds his "loving" wife, whom he has thought of during his tour as his beacon of hope, in bed with an old friend. He breaks down. Within a few weeks a rumor runs through his circle of friends, his "support" circle. According to his old friend and his wife, he beat his children. He hurt them. Suddenly he isn't the "hero" or the poor guy who came home from war to find his beloved fucking their friend. He's worthless. He's a psychopath. He's a dog.

The truth is that he never laid a finger on his kids, given the time frame they said he did. He was at war. But funnily enough 'everyone' seemed to forget that, or not seem to care. They don't come near him again, cast him out of society into loneliness and despair. Leaving him to battle his PTSD and the day he found his wife and mate together, all alone.

Tell me, what happens to these people that makes things up for their own gain? People who end up socially and financially better off than those they kicked in the guts when paralysed with pain?

"All I Know Is That To Me, You Look Like You're Having Fun"

2007-12-08T22:48:00.001+11:00

My red wine is a wee bit too warm. It was another hot one today. Last night I went for a walk around the lake with my partner and our friend and then had a barbeque and drank the bottle of 2002 Kiwi Fruit wine which was delicious. I have made a mental note to visit the winery one of these days. I would love to do wine tours. Wine and cheese, yes please!

Today in itself was a rather fruity day. I worked from 8 until 4. Been called "retarded" and mistaken for a male (honestly how does my voice sound male? I would understand if someone thought my looks were male, but sheesh). Maybe it's one of those things were people think they're being ingenious and witty but really they look like complete tossers. You know, instead of crying or whatever I usually do I sort of let it wash all over me again. Good sign I guess. Just you wait, tomorrow I'll fall to pieces because the milk is spoiled. Or I spied a silverfish in the bathroom.

I nearly went into a complete meltdown earlier when I couldn't find my ring. That familiar sickening churning, strange feeling came jumping down my throat and nestled in my tummy for a good 10 minutes. Can you be addicted to that feeling? I remember for a fair few years growing up I felt it so often and felt so odd without it. Like I needed that feeling to be on the ball, to be on my toes, to watch out for the daggers, to watch out for the volley of bullets. Yes, it was utter madness inside my head for 10 minutes but hurrah I found the ring again. Panicked over nothing really, I seem to do that.

I was messing around with a scan of a charcoal drawing I made years ago. Decided to put random words/lyrics on it to add oh I don't know, substance to it. Wonder what any one can make of it.

Again and again and again.

2007-12-05T21:38:00.000+11:00

I don't know how many times I have to start over making a new blog with new entries. Yes, it's my problem and I have to get over it myself.

Just like when people knock at the door. That happened earlier and once again I froze up and went and hid in my room.

I wish I could send a mailout to everyone:

Oh Hi, yeah, just don't bother talking to Holly. You can't make any sense of a dithering idiot so why try?