Wednesday, 31 December 2014

Sometimes Lover

Tiptoe through the darkness.
Bare feet on night cold timber.
Push you out through back door.
It's best not to let you linger.

That one last kiss,
still so sweet on my lips.
The shivering memory,
of your tracing fingertips.

Quickly back to bedroom,
pretending never to have woken.
No one needs to know,
just how much we both are broken.

Sometimes we are more than lovers,
Sometimes less than friends.
It's hard to tell where one starts,
and where the other ends.

Tangled friends with benefits,
when we even talk at all.
Disinterest and infatuation,
an endless rise and fall.

Will I see you next,
in weeks or months or a year?
Will I even recognise your face,
if you ever come back here?

It's a strange thing to consider,
as my skin still tingles from last night.
I trace the spots your lips fell,
in the dawning of daylight,

I'm still living in the memory,
of your body pressed on mine.
I wonder if I would miss you,
if this was our last time.

This is something special,
in how this doesn't mean much.
How I'm hungry for your love,
but only when we touch.

The perfect storm of nothing,
and loving rolled into one.
Of no one getting hurt feelings,
because all we have is fun.

Don't read too much into it,
but I guess I should say.
My sometimes friend and lover,
happy valentines day.

Sunday, 14 December 2014

This Shadow Life - Fragility

In the last few days I realised how incredibly fragile I am.
For much of the last year I have been under the impression that I am getting better. I feel strong and indestructible and inexplicable and like the centre of a galaxy swirls within my eyes. I have started feelings better about life. Not all the time, but a lot of the time I feel like I can do this, like I can survive. I'm almost never happy, but sometimes I am, and it feels more real than it used to.
Then, about a week ago something stupid happened. This guy did something mean and inconsiderate (totally unintentionally) when I was driving and it was all I could do to hold myself together. This might seem like an overreaction. It was. It was kind of like the straw that broke the camels back (my sanity being the camels back in this analogy).
I hadn't noticed myself slipping away until that little incident turned the stone walls of my castle into smoke. I crumbled and almost burst into tears. The hopelessness and crushing depression rushed in on me and I was taken completely by surprise, and that's what really shook me. The surprise of being rendered totally helpless to my depression when I felt like I had maybe been gaining some ground.

I guess the poison had been seeping in so slowly that I hadn't noticed. Rotting me from the inside.
This isn't really a new thing. It happens from time to time, but it always manges to take me by surprise. Like I said, I'm not often happy, but some times I feel like I am heading that way. At the very least I now feel at peace with myself most of the time, which is a huge achievement for me.
It makes me feel like I have accomplished something, like I am succeeding at this 'life' thing that has always felt so impossible. Then to have it all dashed away into nothing in an instant is kind of devastating.

I have since managed to pull myself back together. Music helps.
But now I am just wondering how long this new calm will last, and if next time I fall apart is the time when I wont be able to pull myself back together again.

Does anyone else ever experience this, or something like this?
Any tips to help me get by?

Saturday, 13 December 2014

Song Game - Final Words

I have spent years of my life waiting for this moment. Years wondering how it would go. Wondering what we would say. Where we would meet and what I would wear. If she would be funny. If I would be funny. I have played out a million different scenarios in my head on a million different occasions.
You would think with all that waiting and wondering that I would be a little prepared. You would think that I would have figured out what to do and what to say, but no. There she is, sitting right across from me, and I can't remember what to do with my hands.
She is waiting for me to say something, that much is clear. Funny how even though she is the one who demanded this meeting, who seemed so sure that this is what she wanted, and yet now that it is happening she has conceded control to me. I guess she thinks I am the adult in this situation.
I fold my hands in my lap and say hi. That's a good start right? It must be a good start, she said hi back. I guess I should ask how she is now. I place my hands on the table and she tells me she is fine.
That's all I've got.
The silence is thick with all those questions burning in her eyes, and with the emptiness in mine.
Best to face this head on I suppose. Be brave Liz. Be honest.

"I can't imagine that you requested this meeting so that we could stare silently at each other, so why don't you start asking some of those questions rolling around inside you head."
Her face tightens as the words rush from my mouth. Was that rude? It didn't sound rude to me. She obviously didn't like it though.
"There is only one question actually," she spits back.
"Oh yeah? What question is that?"
"Why did you give me up?"
Oh god. Is that what they told her? They told her that I gave her up? Those bastards. How could they dump this on me?
"I don't know what to tell you Chloe."
All her attitude falls away. A carefully built wall crumbling to dust.
"Tell me something! Tell me anything! Tell me you were young, tell me you weren't ready, tell me you didn't have enough money," tears spring into her eyes as she begs me.
She wants me to tell her that I loved her, that I gave her up because I loved her. It's strange how she is looking for something to explain it, some way the she might be able to forgive me. I thought eighteen years of absence and disinterest would have made it pretty clear how beyond redemption I am. Still, it's sad.
Be honest Liz. You swore you would be honest.

"I didn't give you up Chloe," I whisper.
"What?" Her eyes are alive again and it's clear that conspiracy theories, baby snatchers and blackmail are wreaking havoc in her mind.
"I didn't give you up because you were never mine to give up"
Her stare is blank for a moment as that sinks in, but then she finds her voice again, "No, mum and told me that it was you, that you are my..."
"Don't say it!" God  how those last two words make me feel like hurling. I shudder to even think the words "birth mother". Everything I have read warned me to expect that term. That it is only natural for a child to want to differentiate between the mother that gave them life and the mother that lived it with them.
"Chloe, I'm not entirely sure how to explain this without hurting you. In fact, I am sure that there is no way to explain this without hurting you. But I swore that I would be honest, so I will be honest and I will tell you everything. Is that what you want?"
Please say no. Please say no. Please say no.
She nods. Crap.
"Okay. Well I guess I should start at the beginning. You know how nans are always demanding grand kids? Like "When are you going to get married?" "When are you going to give me more grand babies?" All that stuff?" Her blank face made it pretty clear that her nan had never said those things. "Oh, well maybe you are still too young. My nan used to say it all the time. Over and over. Pressure and more pressure. Until one day I snapped and told her that I didn't want kids. That I never wanted kids and that she would have to make do with the three grand kids that my brother and his wife had already given her."
Oh crap. She is crying. I guess that wasn't nice to hear, me never wanting kids and all.

With a giant sniff she hisses, "I don't see how you being a bitch to you nan has anything to do with me."
Good Chloe, be angry.
"It has everything to do with you. If it weren't for her and the conversation that followed my outburst you would never have existed at all. You see she told me that it was selfish and unnatural and that I would regret it one day. As far as she was concerned there can be no happiness without offspring. I remained unmoved, after all I am the one who know what would give me happiness, and so she started to try and guilt me into it. She started telling me about this lovely couple she knew who had been trying to have a baby for years and how they had just found out that they never could because of some complication the woman had had. Anyway, long story short, over the next year or so she wore me down and eventually I decided that I would do a good deed and get my nan off my back in one single act. I approached the couple and they were desperate, practically in a frenzy. I made my offer, and frantic as they were, they only took a few weeks to think it over. At first they thought I was a con artist. They thought I was trying to get money out of it, which would have been stupid seeings as they had already spent every cent to their name on fertility stuff, but once they got to know me and they realised it was truly free they didn't think on it for long."

I pause to catch my breath and notice that her eyes are like saucers.
"Have you figured it out yet?" I ask, and she gives a tiny shake of her head.
"Well, obviously those two people were your mum and dad."
"No," she whispers, "No. No. No. No. No"
Better push on. Once she has a breakdown I won't be able to get through the ending.
"The offer I made was pretty simple. I would have their baby for them. No money, no strings, just nine months of waiting and then a baby. It all went surprisingly smoothly actually. Anyway, you see what I mean now? You were never mine to give up. You were never mine. I have never wanted kids. Of course you are made with half my DNA, but you were never mine. You were essentially a test tube baby, but where I was the living test tube."
At that she collapsed into her arms on the table.
"I'm sorry. I know that's not what you wanted to hear."
I reach out and rub small circles on her back. I expect her to jerk away but she stays. She stays and sobs and hiccups and snots all over the place.

Then, when her breathing has calmed and she wipes her face I feel her tense. Pulling my hands back quickly I lay them in my lap. Like it never happened.
She looks up at my slowly, her eyes practically spitting fire.
"How?" she quietly demands.
"How what? How could I do it? I already said, I was doing a good deed."
"No. How? How did it happen? You said they had already spent all their money on fertility stuff, and I can't see your 'good deed' extending to paying all the money for IVF. How did you get pregnant?"
I feel the blush creeping up my cheeks and I can't bare to meet those eyes anymore. My eyes in a strangers face.
"Don't make me say the words Chloe. Don't make me say it when your heart already knows."
"Say it," she spits.
"Your dad. We, um, spent the night together." I whisper.
With my eyes trained on the limp hands laying in my lap, I don't see her as she pushes back from the table and sprints out the door. The cold winter wind that whips in after her freezes the tears on my cheeks.
Even though her storming out of the room and hating me forever featured in most of the scenarios I used to play out in my mind, in none of them did I anticipate how much it would break my heart.

This is my piece for the song game that I proposed a little while ago.
Click here and play too.

Monday, 1 December 2014

Let's Play Another Game!

I'm severely lacking in inspiration right now, so I am going to play a game.

I would really love it if other people would join in.
It will be super fun and helpful for anyone else who is stuck like me. Also, for some added inspiration for you to join in, I solemnly swear that I will read EVERY story and poem and admire any artwork that other people do as part of this game.
If it's awesome I will probably even +1 is and rave about it to all my friends. :]

So there. Are you all keen now?

So here's how the game will work. (I have no idea if other people have done this already, but frankly I don't care because I'm a rebel like that)

  1. Get your music player (iPod or phone or whatever)
  2. Plug in some speakers or headphones so that you can hear what it plays (This may be an obvious step, but I feel that it needed to be said).
  3. If you have different options like "Albums", "Artists", "Songs" and "Playlists" (this is what my iPod has) then select "Songs". If you don't have options like that then I don't know what you are doing with your life. Go and get an iPod. Lol. Just kidding. If you don't have options like that, just find a way to get a list of all your songs ready to play.
  4. Select "Shuffle" 
  5. In the comment section below, write down the song title and the artist of whatever plays first. This is your song for the game.
    Don't worry if it isn't "cool". If you are hard as fuck and Taylor Swift starts playing (what I am expecting to happen when I do this) you might not want to admit it, but you should, because writing something that contradicts your public persona might open you up to a while new genre of writing. Everyone has something random in their music collection. ;)
  6. Listen to your song.
  7. Listen to your song again.
  8. Pick a lyric/line/verse/chorus/part from your song and use it as inspiration for a story or poem or artwork of some sort.
    You can use the lyric/line/verse/chorus/part as the heading for the piece, or work it into the text somehow. It's up to you. The world is your oyster and stuff.
    You can repeat steps 6 and 7 as many times as you need, and look the lyrics up on Google if you want. 
  9. When you have finished, post your work to your blog and send me a link in the comments below so that I can come and see what kind of awesomeness you were able to produce. :]
  10. Maybe read some of the things that other people produce. 
  11. You have finished the game. Now all you need to do is revel in your awesomeness. 

So I have completed steps 1-4 (Go me). My song is Bonus Track, by Story of the Year.
Gosh. Listening to this, it sounds like something that I would write already, so I'm going to try and do something a bit different with it.

xx Sasha

Thursday, 27 November 2014

Death Undeserved

The radio announcer cries,
"Oh why did it have to be him?
Couldn't someone else have gone,
someone filled with sin?"

So ready to dish out death,
to those you think deserve it more,
as a trade for someone great,
someone you adore.

"Such a shame, he was so young,
and so full of talent too.
Why not take someone in prison?
Why not take them in lieu?"

I say, "Who are you to play god?
Who are you to choose?
Even if you save him,
someone else will always loose."

Please don't read this wrong.
Know that I am saddened too,
by this life lost, and every other,
all tragedy coming true.

I understand you might not mean it,
these awful words you said.
I just want to caution against,
trying to trade someone for the dead.

Life isn't always fair.
We all know this to be true,
but wishing someone else dead instead,
is a disgusting thing to do.

RIP Phillip Hughes

Monday, 24 November 2014

Rip me open

Rip my heart open.
Watch me bleed.
Now you will see,
it's you that I need.

Break me, hurt me.
I'll come back for more.
I'll smile as you press,
my throat to the floor.

Tie me up tighter.
Let rope cut my skin.
Get lost in the dark,
without and within.

Break me a little.
Forget it's a game.
Push me hard,
'till I'm calling your name.

Kiss me softly,
with love now found.
Kiss me harder.
Let's go another round.

My own way.

You tell me to make more friends.
That I can't be happy on my own.
You tell me that more is merrier.
That I shouldn't be alone.

I have a few good friends you know,
but not enough you say.
I'd rather quality over quantity.
I'll make friends my own way.

You tell me to leave the house more
To get out and run around.
But I believe in stillness,
where peace can still be found.

You want to see me at parties,
today and every other day.
But I'd rather a quiet gathering,
I'll celebrate my own way.

You tell me to go to cities,
with lights and people and sound.
You want me to drink and party,
where all other people are found.

I'd rather walk in the forest,
and breathe salt sea spray.
I'll not go where you want me.
I'll travel my own way.

I need more things in my house,
you say I need more lavish luxury.
I like my old fashioned things.
Why wont you just let me be?

You want me ultra modern,
all black and steel grey.
I want soft country colours.
I'll decorate in my own way.

You tell me to change jobs.
You hate my long commute.
But I don't really mind it.
I get to relax en route.

You say I could do better,
that I deserve more pay.
But I don't need more money.
I'll work my own way.

You want me to be happy.
On this we can agree.
But the life that made you happy,
will not work the same for me.

I might regret this in the future,
and wish I'd let you lead me astray.
But for now I ask you simply,
to let me live my life my own way.

When You Smile

There's this girl I know. She melts my heart to stone.
I saw her first in the winter, striding quickly down the street. Tear drops frozen on her cheeks and hands stuffed deep into pockets. The way she curled in on herself made her seem very small, kind of insubstantial, her body diminished by her far-away mind.
I paused to ask if she was okay. I want you to know that I tried to help her, but she brushed past me as though I didn't even exist. Maybe I was invisible in empty the snowstorm of her eyes.
The dark swallowed her up as she got further and further from me.
The rest of the night I walked the streets, wondering what could possibly have been on her mind.

I saw her again in the springtime. Laughter drew me to her. Loud, boisterous laughter that made me feel stupid for not laughing too. Everything was funny to her in the springtime. Someone asked her why. I was grateful for their curiosity. I needed to know too.
She replied, "Life is better when you laugh at everything."
Everyone agreed. Life was better watching her laugh at everything. She was magnetic. It was more than just charisma. When she smiled she was compelling. Demanding. Consuming. It was like the sun shone for her and the world spun around her. I have no words to describe her that would really do her justice. I guess you had to be there. Let me just say that I loved her when she smiled.
When our eyes met that day I could tell that she still didn't really see me. I was just one of many in a sea of admirers. But I could see her. I saw her quick and sexy and with the world around her fingers. Sarcastic and powerful and beautiful. I knew she could see what she did to people. I knew she liked it like that. She liked being everything to everyone.
She was like a glowing light trapped inside a perfect body. Like a powerful and terrible goddess, blindingly beautiful, irresistibly sexy, and merciless as the ocean.  A woman filled to exploding with life and secrets.
To be near her was to know how much better life could be. Her buoyant happiness was contagious.
Like moths to a flame we fluttered helplessly in her glow.

When I saw her again it was winter, though no more than a few days had actually passed. She was sitting alone on a park bench, quiet and contemplating. I could see her eyes begin to darken and the storm in her eyes begin to rage as depression took hold of her heart. With her once again diminished and blind to the world I could study her freely. She was nothing special really. That irresistible pull had vanished with the sun. Her body was average, her face plain, her hair kind of frizzy and poorly styled, her wrists scarred. Her clothes were lose and obviously intended to hide the slight bulge of her stomach. Her arms were crossed in defence of her heart.
In just a few days she had shrunk down to nothing but a sad, plain little girl.

I walked away. Not away from her, but away from this little circle of winter. I walked to the bench and sat down by her side. She met my eyes then, finally aware of my presence. I have no idea what she saw in me, but a wicked gleam flashed in her eyes and the air began to crackle as she turned it on. Lips half smiling and eyebrows raised, she dared me to say something, do something. Speechless I watched as light flared inside her. She smiled, and sex poured from her skin as the rain hammered down on us from a summer storm that began to rage in the sky above.

Friday, 14 November 2014

For the Love of Music.

I recently got to talking with one of my friends about the kinds of music that we each like.
I don't know about you, but for me this is a crucial and exciting time. You get to find out what music you have in common, as well as possibly enter into new realms of music you might never have discovered on your own.
We decided to each make a playlist, not of our favourite songs, but of the songs we are obsessed with at the moment. The ones we each keep playing over and over until our ears bleed. :]

I made the playlist. It's super weird and varied, but honestly I am obsessed with every song on there. They are the ones that have me singing and jamming in my car at the red lights.
They are the ones that have my crying.
They are the ones that have me serenading the guy in the car next to me, and the ones that have the people in the car in front of me roaring with laughter at my outrageous seated dance moves. (you might have guessed I listen to music in the car a lot).

Anyway. I figured that I should post it here for you lovely people too.
Some of the song have gotten me through the darkest parts of my life, and they are songs that I will always be obsessed with, others are just flipping awesome.

So if you have some extra time, click here to have a listen....

Tuesday, 11 November 2014

This Shadow Life - Enjoy Something Beautiful

Hi everyone.
Life has been super busy for me at the moment. I am working long hours and writing and thinking about writing and trying to figure out how to use Scrivener, as well as doing all the normal life stuff like sleeping and remembering to feed my dogs.
Not to worry though. That's just the way life is sometimes I guess. It's better to be busy than bored. Bored leaves space for depression.

Anyway. I wanted to do a post about one of my favourite artists. Victoria Frances.
I have been following her work for years and honestly the way her work is both beautiful and kind of dark has always been a great comfort to me.

I guess this is more of a lifestyle piece than what I normally do but oh well. I was thinking about it recently and I decided that not enough people seem to know about Victoria Frances and how awesome her work is.

I have included some of my favourites here, but there are tonnes more on her website. Check them out here.

I really like this first one. Some of my friends say that it looks like me, and I think that's awesome coz this chick is hot. ;]

The pictures have this weird ethereal quality to them that I really like.

And then there are just the ones that are super cute and weird and flipping awesome.

I actually have some of her work around my house. They are really pretty and different and always great for conversation. :]

Thursday, 6 November 2014

Myself and I

Childish glee
stunted growth
turned into a woman
before the right time.

Broken heart
long lost mind
who to become
is hard to find.

Pleasing lovers
teddy bear friend
long nights drinking
days playing pretend.

Professional job
silly faces
high heel shoes
skipping places.

Push up bra
frilly socks
secrets spilled
diary locks.

Lipstick smiles
ribbons in hair
broken in half
by life so unfair.

Conflicting people
forced into one
woman in love
girl on the run.

Soundtrack of my Suicide 2

I stand upon the cliff top,
no one else around.
It's peaceful in this quiet,
of never ending sound.

The waves below on rock break,
like my heart upon the floor.
Though you left me darling
I'll be yours for ever more.

I hear the words playing over,
and over inside my head.
The doctor saying "stillborn"
and knowing I was dead.

You never saw the world love,
or took a single breath.
You dragged me down with you,
I died the instant of your death.

I felt your tiny soul leaving,
It ripped straight through my heart.
You left me with naught but rubble.
You tore all that I am apart.

I remember your father crying,
but no sound did I make.
There was nothing left inside me.
There was nothing left to break.

I know I could have another,
a baby boy or girl someday.
But how could I ever forgive them for living,
when you were taken away?

This empty feeling inside,
the hole where you used to be.
Its spreading slowly outwards.
It's taking over me.

Just one more step to take now,
off the edge of solid earth.
one short flight to freedom,
all I have wanted since your birth.

I can hear the wind crying,
just like you should have done.
Ocean spray mixed with tears,
I cry for you, my only son.

I didn't say goodbye,
to anyone I have known.
I'm not really leaving them,
I'm just finally coming home.

I'm sorry to leave your father,
but maybe he will come too.
We can be a family again,
as long as we are with you.

One foot over nothing,
about to take the fall.
About to come and find you,
in exchange for losing it all.

But really what am I losing?
There is nothing without you.
No one will understand, I know,
but this is what I need to do.

The wind is still howling around me,
the ocean spray still on my face.
I hear this music of screaming silence,
as I step into your embrace.

Sunday, 2 November 2014

Horse Drawing

The other day I got really bored of feeling useless so I picked up a pencil and started to draw. 
Drawing is a great way of letting some creativity and emotion out and feeling good when you have a finished product.
Even just drawing scribbles is better than feeling rubbish. 

I'm pretty proud of this horse that I drew from a photo on my iPhone. :)
I haven't drawn horses in years. 
What do you think? Can you tell that it's a horse? Lol 

Tuesday, 28 October 2014

Wish You Were Here - Three Instalments Finished

Breaking Down

"Come on Danni! What are you just standing there for?" Cassy cried over her shoulder. 
Dragging her eyes back into focus, Danni watched the other girl run off along the asphalt. Knowing that her continued silence would only attract more attention, more questions, she began to run too, laughing breathlessly as she went. Breathless laughing was easy, casual, something that didn't sound as false as her normal laughter.
The bright colours and noises of the school fate streamed around them, but Danni hardly noticed. Cassy was probably running towards some kind of attraction, but nothing really stood out to Danni. It all looked the same so she just followed blindly and prepared to act excited wherever they arrived next.

The two girls skidded around people and clowns and corners into the cool air of a deserted classroom. Cassy stopped and turned to face Danni. Her mouth pulled into a thin line. Danni recognised determination in the set of Cassy's mouth, but it didn't reach all the way to her eyes. Her eyes were soft. Danni thought that the softness might be worry, but emotions seemed harder to understand at the moment. It was like she had forgotten how to read them as well as how to feel them.
Putting it all together, the secluded spot, the hard mouth, the soft eyes, the hands held out the same way people do when approaching a frightened animal, Danni finally realised what was going on. She turned away quickly and began to feign interest in the room they had just entered. Paintings surrounded her. Brilliant, an art room, lots of easy conversation there. 
The shapes in the pictures meant nothing to her. They might have been happy people or dead puppies for all she knew. Normally she wouldn't have taken such a risk, but desperate as she was to avoid the approaching conversation, she randomly gestured to one and said, "Wow, isn't that pretty? God I'd love to be that talented. Wouldn't y-"
"Shut up Danni," Cassy snapped, "You can't keep running from this. You can't keep running from me. We have to talk about it, whatever it is, so stop trying to distract me because it isn't going to work. Not this time.  "
With a mental sigh Danni turned to face her former best friend.
"What do you want Cassy?"
"I want you to talk to me"
"That's what we are doing. That's what we always do. I'm pretty sure we have used up all the words in the English language at this point," Danni spat 
"You know that's not what I mean," Cassy coaxed, "we need to talk about what happened. I can see what it's been doing to you. Do you think you fooled me with those weird smiles. They are like someone put fish hooks through each corner of your mouth and they just  pull up when it seems like you should be smiling. It's creepy. It's been like talking to a robot that has been programmed to act like you. It's like you aren't really there any more. I know you are doing your best, but maybe the fake-it-till-you-make-it approach isn't working. Maybe you need to talk about it. Maybe you need to get it all out and cry, so that then you can start to feel better and get back to your self."
"Wow. What a great little speech. How long have you been rehearsing that one Cass?" Danni sneered back. 
Contempt was easy. Cassy had once been her best friend and Danni would never have spoken to her so harshly, but who knew what she was now. Danni had recently realised that she didn't really care about Cassy any more. However, she didn't really know what to make of that because she didn't care about anyone else either. She didn't really care about anything at all. 
"So what if I rehearsed it? I have been worried about you!" Cassy cried.
"Save it for someone who cares."
Cassy's eyes tightened slightly as the words sunk in, but she spoke like Danni hadn't said anything, "What happened at the party Danni?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Danni, you need to talk about it. I was reading about how letting it out can help. You know, like sharing the burden."
"Of course  you read up about it, you little nerd." Danni laughed, "Typical Cassy. You think you can solve everything for everyone with your precious books. I'm not some project for you to fix up and get a pat on the back from some teacher."
As tears welled in Cassy's eyes, Danni knew she had hit below the belt but she was way past caring.
In a tiny whisper Cassy replied, "It's not like that and you know it. I'm just trying to help you. Why wont you let me?"
"Because it's none of  your damn business you nosy little idiot. Now get out of my way. I'm leaving," Danni yelled.
As she stormed out of the room, Danni thought she saw the tears spill down Cassy's cheek as her final words hit home, but she didn't look back to find out.


Walking home in the afternoon heat, Danni knew she should be thinking about her fight with Cassy. She should probably even be upset about it and coming up with ways to make it better. Instead she was concentrating on putting one dusty shoe in the front of the other and counting each step.
Ninety-seven. Ninety-eight.
It had taken two thousand and five steps to get home from school on Friday.
One hundred and nine. One hundred and ten.
As part of some stupid personal mission,she was concentrating on lengthening each step by the slightest margin in an attempt to make the walk from the school gate to her front door in exactly two thousand steps.
One hundred and twenty-four.
Though she was determined to achieve her goal, Danni was actually kind of worried about what she would do if she ever achieved it. What would she concentrate on when waking home the next day?
One hundred and thirty-three. One hundred and thirty-four.
She shuddered at the thought of having nothing but her own inner monologue for company. Nothing would be worse.
One hundred and fifty. One hundred and fifty-one. One hundred and fifty-two.

One thousand nine hundred and eighty-six. One thousand nine hundred and eighty-seven.
Pausing for a moment on the footpath outsider her house, Danni could already tell that she had done it. After weeks of trying, she had gotten the steps exactly right. Just thirteen more steps and she would be nose to nose with her front door. Then what would she do?

One thousand nine hundred and eighty-eight.
Her concentration started to slip.

One thousand nine hundred and eighty-nine.
Her fingers began to tremble.

One thousand nine hundred and ninety.
Sweat started to bead on her upper lip.

One thousand nine hundred and ninety-one.
Somehow the air got thinner. Lungs working in overtime, Danni struggled to draw enough air to keep breathing.

One thousand nine hundred and ninety-two.
The pressure in her head started building, throbbing with each accelerated heart beat.
"No, no, NO! Get a grip Danni!" she encouraged herself, "Come on, pull yourself together!"

One thousand nine hundred and ninety-three.
Trying to stay calm she attempted to swallow down her fear. Her parched and swollen tongue
stuck to the roof of her mouth and threatened to choke her instead.

One thousand nine hundred and ninety-four.
She found the bottle in her bag just in time to slosh some water into her mouth and unstick her tongue. The cool water felt nice to her overheated body so she took another swig.

One thousand nine hundred and ninety-five.
The water in her stomach churned. Nausea rushed back at her and twisted her stomach in knots. Thinking of how some people describe butterflies in their stomach she laughed. This felt more like a python rolling and twisting and knotting painfully as it tried to find some way of escaping.

One thousand nine hundred and ninety-six.
As the snake rolled in the pit of her stomach the chill set in. Sweat froze into goosebumps, teeth chattered, and she began to shiver.

One thousand nine hundred and ninety-seven.
Her back started aching and she realised that she had been holding her body so tense that she was beginning to tremble as well as shiver. Her muscles and skin both twitching and shaking pulling away from each other. Tremors cracking her apart.

One thousand nine hundred and ninety-eight.
Unable to hold the pieces of herself together she felt it creeping in.

One thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine.
Quietly through the cracks in her mind, the broken record of her inner monologue began to play.

Two thousand....

Quiet Storm 

The rest of this story has been moved to Wattpad because this post was getting insanely long.
You can read it here

This post is getting too long and annoying so I am going to continue writing it on my Wattpad account where you can see it one chapter at a time, rather than just one long stretch. 
I don't know if you might have to be a member of Wattpad in order to read it...that would be sad. If that's the case and you don't want to sign up, then just let me know and I will email the chapters to you or something. 

I will continue to update the title of this post though so that if you are on G+ you can see at a glance if there is a new chapter for you to read. 

Wednesday, 22 October 2014

Tall Dark and Handsome

In life, the path we walk is dark and treacherous. We grope our way forward moment by moment, trying not to stumble. Trying not to fall off the edge of the path altogether.
Like veins and capillaries, the path branches off towards a million different lives we could lead. Twists and turns hide the road ahead but we are pushed forwards by our pumping hearts. We have split seconds to make decisions, right or left, straight or up or down, before it is lost and fading away into the blackness behind us. If we stop, we clot.
Jenny has stopped. She is standing at a fork in her path. One man stands to the right and another to the left. Both men tall, dark, and handsome. She knows these men, their paths have wound through hers for years, crossing, running together for a while, splitting apart once again. Weaving in and out, a tapestry of friendship.
Now they are here. Both at once, but pulling her life apart. She must chose. One or the other. Left or right. Up or down. No third option of coexistence. No choice but to choose.

To one side is a childhood friend. When he hugs her she only reaches his shoulder. He is tall, tall the way Jenny likes a man to be. Tall and broad and strong. Strong enough to hold her, to protect her, to restrain her. When he smiles, his dark eyes shine. His dark hair flies in the wind as he runs. When they kiss the dark stubble scratches her face. He is dark, but he is light. He is obviously beautiful, obviously joyful, obviously good. He makes her laugh and tried his best to please her. He is polite and makes her family happy. He is handsome.

To the other side is a strange man. Not a stranger but still strange. Though he isn't much taller than Jenny, he seems to take up far to much space in her mind. He is tall, tall from within. Jenny met him in darkness. Figurative and literal darkness. In the sorrow of her life he came like a shadow of a man. He is dark. He is weird. He makes her uncomfortable. He makes her laugh. And when she makes him smile he is beautiful. He tells her things she doesn't need to hear, calls her out when she is full of it. He doesn't try to heard to please her, and that pleases her. When they fuck he leaves bruises. He is not the kind of man Jenny would ever introduce to anyone. He is challenging and passionate and consuming, but not right for her on the surface. He is handsome.

Which one to chose? Which path to take? Which life to follow? Jenny looks from one to the other. She can see them, but she cant see past them to the life they will give her. Who to take a chance on? If she kissed them again would she know who it is that she needs in her life?
Taking a deep breath, Jenny decides. In her beating heart she knows who she needs.
Stepping forward and to the right, she takes a warm firm hand in her own and is swept once more down life's path, moving more surely now that she has someone to hold.

Thursday, 16 October 2014

Wild One

Half hidden in the dark she is perfect. Silver moonlight reflecting off cream skin and midnight hair. She is tangled in the sheets, staring darkly into my eyes. Maybe she knows what I'm thinking. Maybe she knows I'm glad for the shadows. Glad I cant see the shiny scars that pattern her wrists and stomach and legs. Maybe not. Maybe she is just begging me to begin.

Finger tips on fire tracing cold liquid skin. A blazing trail of territory claimed, shapes memorised, and silent thoughts. In the dark I hear her breathing. Soft, shallow, steady breathing. I feel her trembling in anticipation, waiting for my next move, my next touch, my next unspoken word.
Without thought her body responds. There is power in my finger tips. With the smallest bit of skin I control her. With a millimetre of movement I captivate her. With the slightest pressure I enslave her.

I escape her eyes and kiss her. With a fistful of her hair I hold her down as I pull back. Her body arches up against me and I know she is truly mine. With lips and teeth and tongue I torture her. Tease her with touch but pull back before she has enough.

The tempo changes. Her need is savage. Her eyes are fire burning my name. I give in to that stare and make her glad she came. She wants me and needs me like never before. This time it's different. This time it's real.

She is all shallow breathing and tangled hair. All forgotten vows and broken promises. All mine.
I tie her up in ribbons and write my name across her skin. Smear the memory between our sweaty bodies. I hold her close and know she needs me closer. I pull her into myself so she forgets she even exists. With each moment I claim her and tame her. Break her open to keep her whole. Dissolver her into dust and release her to the air. I let her escape this heavy breathing and whisper her name so she keeps from screaming. I paint her skin with violent love to keep her heart from bleeding.

Wednesday, 15 October 2014

Hear the Children Crying

Laying in bed I hear it.
I hear the children cry.
Crying for a mother,
who never said good bye.

Voices in the darkness,
loud, and strong, and true.
Convinced that she will return
just like she used to do.

I hear the children crying,
for a mother far away.
perhaps if she could hear them,
she would try harder to stay.

I hear the children crying,
who want naught but to not be alone.
I hear them crying for a mother,
who is never coming home.

Monday, 13 October 2014


I am sitting on the floor beside you. Your breathing is shallow, ragged. The air through the window is freezing. Too cold for spring. The glass is broken. I cannot close it. You are freezing.
Patting your hair I feel the short coarse bristles. They irritate my skin. But how can I stop? How can I stop when this might be making you feel just the smallest bit better?
I can't stop.

Your neck is twisted horribly. Not broken, just twisted. You hold it there for some reason. Does it make you feel better? Is the pain less when you hold your head like that? It looks so unnatural to me. But how should I know what is comfortable. I have never tried to be comfortable while waiting to die. I wish I could ask you these questions but you wouldn't answer me. I wish you could tell me what I can do to ease your pain. The only sound you make now is screaming. Screaming and that shallow, ragged breathing.

Do you want it to be over? Should I have let them kill you painlessly, or were they right, do you deserve the chance to try and fight through this? I have no idea what to do. No matter what I do it is the wrong thing. If I let you die I would always wonder if you might have pulled through. When you don'd pull through I will hate myself for every extra moment of suffering that my weakness caused you.

"I'm sorry" I whisper quietly. The only thing I have left to say. The thing I have said to so many before you. The thing I will some day say again. Those two words break me. They contain all the mistakes, all the sorrow, all the death that I have ever faced. I know this isn't my fault, but I'm still sorry.
So so sorry.

Saturday, 11 October 2014

Looking Back

An empty road, a fallen tree, a twisted fence
crippled by the decay of time.
The rutted track calling out
for you to walk alone.
A broken chair. The paint is peeling slowly and the ornate steel is rusted
Its past was beautiful.
Tilting towards the track,
you can see the past but you cant go back


Tuesday, 7 October 2014

Sunshine Girl

Sunshine Girl I see you,
with your hair of liquid gold.
Walking slowly by me,
such a beauty to behold.

Sunshine Girl your laughter,
it's ringing in my ear.
your summer morning melody,
such a joy to all who hear.

Sunshine Girl I'm smiling,
to be spending time with you.
Even just with being friends,
my dreams have now come true.

Sunshine Girl please share my life,
the good moments and the bad.
Let me love and support you,
and give you all you never had.

Sunshine Girl I love you,
I see the spark of light within,
I'm asking will you marry me?
Let our lives together begin.

Sunshine Girl I love you,
more with every passing day.
You smile and I smile,
together we will stay.

Sunshine Girl, a baby!
With golden hair like yours.
Our perfect gift from heaven,
a girl who everyone adores.

Sunshine Girl stop leaving,
stop pulling back away.
Please let your light keep shining,
by my side please stay.

Sunshine Girl where are are you?
The dark has covered up your light.
I swear to god I'll find you,
I will not give up this fight.

Sunshine Girl I need you
your daughter needs you too.
Please stay with us darling
from the clouds you must break through.

Moonlight Girl you took her,
blood from skin you tore.
Now laying in the darkness
my sun will sleep for ever more.

This Shadow Life - Crying and baths

People say that crying is a good thing. That it releases endorphins and relaxes you because you get all that emotion out of your system. Baths are supposed to be good too, but to be perfectly honest I find both things useless in my day to day life and dealing with depression.

As some of you might have guessed from my posts, I suffered a trauma and now I have trouble feeling emotion. 
People have suggested that I need to let it all out and have a good cry. That it will unstopper my emotions and I'll be able to feel again. People also suggest relaxing reflection in a bath. 

To my rational self these ideas make sense and in the abstract they seem like a great idea. But then it comes to actually doing it. 
Now, I have a lot of things I could cry about but I don't really cry about them normally. So, when I want to go on a crying jag, I have to really work up to it. It's like running the bath. 

Then I get into it. 
I sit and cry or sit in the bath and reflect but then I think "now what?"
I'm just going through the motions really. The physical act alone achieved nothing for me and it all just feels like such a waste of time. There are so many more productive things I could be doing. I don't get anything out of crying or baths. So what's the point? 
There is none. 

Crying and baths have no value for me. 

I'll have to try something else...,

Wednesday, 24 September 2014

Girl in the Night - Part 5 - New Light

<< Return to part 4 - Half Light <<

With a gentle swaying rhythm, Tom's hips rocked in time to hoof beats of the horse beneath him. Long and weary hours together fused them into two parts of the same being. With every mountain and river and enemy that fell beneath those hooves, a kinship was forged between horse and master. One step, one breath, one sway of the hips, one movement closer to home.

A long  dry summer had left the road down which they walked ready to fly away, and with every step a puff of dust was released into the air. Thought the ground was dry, the forest surrounding the road was lush and green, tempting.  How pleasant it would be to wander through the trees, to escape the raging sun, but the Darce Forest was not to be trifled with, not by one man alone. Many a  man had been drawn into those silvery boughs on their own, with no one to hear them scream and no one to report why they could not return. Of late the problem had been growing. The gangs of men who had been safe entering the forest together, dared to venture forth no more. In hushed whispers they could be heard speaking of a shadow stretching through the forest, leaving bloodshed in it's wake. They called him Grosvenor, the merciless prowling hunter.

Dragging his eyes from the Darce Forest, Tom lost his thoughts in the dirt of the road. Nothing but dusty brown dirt.
"Brown, brown, brown, brown", the words ran through his mind, "brown, brown, blue, brown, wait! What? Blue? What could be blue?"

Amidst a quivering mound of dirt he found blue, wide, perfectly round, deep sky blue. Not just one blue, but two. Two of the pretty blue circles, like punctures in the ground revealing the sky on the other side of the world, like two eyes so the dirt could watch him pass
"Hello dirt, why are you looking at me so?" he chuckled to himself, thinking of coloured beads fallen from a saddle bag.

Then, the dirt blinked and Tom reigned his horse in suddenly, laughter forgotten on his lips. The idea of bead-like eyes in the dirt seemed funny, but blinking dirt? Surely not. In the glaring sunlight he forced his mind into motion and began to separate shapes from the earthen backdrop. He discovered the form of a girl, crouched, filthy, and ready to fly. A savage girl with skin the colour of the earth and hair matted with dirt and twigs and blood. Shocking though her body was, with bones pointing everywhere as though trying to escape, her eyes were what held him captive. They were large, intelligent, and wild with fear.
The eyes of a caged animal staring from her hollow face.

In one fluid movement he dismounted. As his feet found solid ground he looked for her again, looked for those eyes, but all he saw was a whip of hair as it disappeared beyond the nearest tree. With a yell he began the pursuit, following the sound of her ragged breathing.
She was fleet and light of foot, obviously familiar with the forest, but Tom was faster. Fit and healthy and well fed he gained on her quickly.
She reached a clearing in the trees and whirled around to face him. With the force of his momentum they collided and his arms wrapped fast around her. Spitting like a feral cat she clawed at his skin and thrashed against his hold. But hold he did, and eventually in exhaustion, she stopped and sagged against him. Once she relaxed, Tom was able to get a better view of the clearing. He staggered backwards at the sight. In the middle of the clearing a body has been left, mangled and broken with congealed blood and entrails all around.
"Oh god, this must have been the Grosvenor," Tom though to himself.
He felt her hanging limp against his chest and thinking her frightened from the mess of death on the ground he began to croon softly in her ear. With the words he used to calm wild beasts, he attempted to soothe her.


As the giant man held her tightly Sarah fought. She fought for freedom and air and life. The terror that raced through her veins screamed of captivity, torture, and punishment for the sins of her past. He would drag her back, she knew he would.
As she struggled she felt his skin, his clothes, his hair. It all brushed against her as she moved. Howling and pushing and scratching against him, she suddenly knew what it had been like for all those creatures she had killed, the ones that had put up a fight.
As she grew weaker she began to breath deeper. She smelled sweat and horses, leather and man, forest and earth. Something was missing though, something didn't smell right.
After a moment she discovered the difference in the air. Falling limp with shock , Sarah realised that for the first time in her life, she could not smell the ocean.

>> Part 6 Coming Soon >>

Tuesday, 23 September 2014

Beautiful World

With the sound of roaring thunder,
and water diamonds in the air.
A river falling over clifftop,
reckless wonder with no care.

With the quiet drip of something,
deep within the ground.
Caves of infinite darkness,
so many treasures to be found.

With thin air that's hard for breathing,
high above it all.
Mountains touching heaven,
hear the universe call.

With green at every turn,
and nature all around.
Timeless forest growing,
lost in sight and sound.

With music and with laughter
with light drowning stars.
People revel through the city,
driving in fast cars.

With an ever restless soul,
and blue horizon eyes.
I have seen so much of the world,
beneath these endless skies.

The world is a beautiful place,
with many amazing things to do.
But for all my endless wanders,
I know one thing to be true.

Though there is still so much I haven't done,
I would rather just sit and waste my time with you.

Monday, 8 September 2014

Nap Time

So much to do,
no time to lose.
Work to finish,
things to prove.

People to see,
stories to write.
Dinner to cook,
battles to fight.

Tears to cry,
smiles to grin.
A burden to carry
and love to fall in.

There is so much to do,
I've no time to lose,
I'll never get it all done,
So I think I'll take a nap.

Wednesday, 3 September 2014

It's Still You

When someone dies
and everyone cries,
there are tears in my eyes.
but I'm crying for you.

You died long ago,
and somehow I know,
to put on a show,
and pretend I'm over you.

Death gives me a break,
from being a fake,
I can acknowledge the ache,
in my soul still for you.

I can pretend to be sad,
for their life no longer had,
but secretly I'm glad,
that once again I can mourn you.

It's too long for me,
since you were set free,
to still be unhappy,
I should be over you.

But even after all these years,
of love and tears,
of laughter and fears.
I only ever care about you.

I don't have a clue,
how to live, what to do,
but I know this to be true,
Every breath I take is still for you.

Sunday, 31 August 2014

Things I'll Never Say

The things that mater most, are the things I will never say.
A broken promise inside my heart, forever you must stay.

People read my stories and think, that my life must have been hard.
But none of them will ever know, the real reason that I'm scarred.

Some things are just too hard, to say or speak about out loud.
That doesn't mean that I don't miss you, when I'm alone or lost in the crowd.

The wound is just too real for me, even after all these years.
and I know how sad it would make you, to see me always in tears.

So I think I'll just miss you quietly, in the hollow space inside my heart.
The space that was carved out to hold you, right from the very start.

Girl in the Night - Part 4 - Half Light

<< Return to part 3 - Insight <<

In the dappled grey of moonlight the world quiets into a fitful slumber. The land is grey and muted, a molten lead shadow of daylight's sun kissed glory. The sounds of the world are muted too. The chaos of life, the howl of the wind, the creak of the growing forest, it all subsides into the heavy breathing silence of night.
The night is a time for hunters, stealthy nightmares that prowl in the darkness while the weak run and hide.
In the night, the stillness is broken only by bursts of lunatic laughter as the hunters terrorise their prey, and by hollow screams of the dying.

A dream creeps through the forest on tiny silent feet. She is a dream. She has no presence. She something seen, but not really there. Insubstantial. Something noticed, but then easily forgotten. She slips in and out of the shadow forest like a whisper on the breeze. This is Sarah, or at least what is left of her. She has learned to live as a wraith. A shimmer in the darkness.

Through all the months since she awoke, half submerged on the bank of the river, Sarah wandered. She wandered away from the pungent sting of the ocean salt and off through the forest.
At first she blundered forward, tripping on roots and branches. Snagging her clothes on every twig and bramble. The forest animals fled at the noise of her passing and she grew hungry.
With the desperation of the dying she ate whatever she could find. At first grubs and grasses were all she could manage but as she grew into her life in the forest and her skeleton forced it's way out thorough her whithering flesh, she became desperate enough, and light enough, to take to the trees. The birds eggs were delicious. Rich and warm. So much better than grubs.

One evening, a mother bird retuned to it's nest while Sarah still crouched on the branch beside it, sucking an egg from it's fragile shell. The bird noticed her, but was too distraught be the sight of the empty nest to pay her much attention. Frozen at the sight of the bird, Sarah's mouth flooded with saliva. She could almost remember what meat tasted like.
The bird began to urgently hop around it's nest, and when it reached the point closest to Sarah, she leapt. With both hands she grabbed onto the silky feathers, and together they fell. The ground was soft with leaf littler, but the little bird landed between Sarah and the ground. It lay broken and dead, but still somehow beautiful. With broken wings and dripping blood, Sarah thought it to be the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

The bird marked a turning point for Sarah. She learned that she was capable of killing, capable of fighting, capable of surviving on her own. This is when she began to move through the forest like a hunter. Her steps became quieter, and eventually silent. She learned the voices of the forest, and forsaking the language she was taught as a child, she began to speak as one of the animals. The distress calls of prey that she had heard in the past soon gurgled in her throat as she lured the night predators to her waiting hands and snarling mouth.
She became wild. More wild than the howling wolves. More wild than the wind on the ocean.

She lived for the half light between day and night, where animals were restless and tired, moving to bed after a day of hunting, or just waking up for the night. They were less careful then, more easily caught and subdued. In the half light, Sarah would fly through the forest on feather feet like a ghost. The dirt on her clothes and embedded in her skin made her the same colour as the twilight, invisible to any watching eyes. She was one with the earth and the birds and the sky.

Then the sun would lighted the eastern sky with a promise to rise and the earth would call her down to sleep. With a full stomach she would curl up where she stopped and forget all the world around her.

One night when she stopped, it was on a particularly hard patch of ground. Crawling along it, following a shallow rut in one direction, it seemed to stretch on for ever, but turning to the side she found a soft mound of dirt quite quickly. Curling up in a ball she placed her arm over her head to shield her face from the light of the quickly rising sun.
Something pulled at her brain as she lay there, drifting off to sleep. Something familiar about that hard ground and that rut running through it. The nagging thought in her brain swum into her dreams as she fell deeply into sleep.

A memory floated to the surface of her mind, becoming clearer with each hour as she slipped away from concious thought. The memory was from her childhood. She had been playing the in the garden across from her home when she heard the kitchen maids calling her in for supper. Exited to see her father at the table she had leapt up and run. She ran so fast that when she tripped she felt like he was flying through the air. When she landed it was bloody. Skinned elbows and knees. Ripped dress.
With tears in her eyes she had hobbled back to see what she had tripped on.
It was the wheel rut from carriages trundling down the road...
The road. Oh god. Dragging herself out of the memory she fought to wake up.
Desperate to be wrong, inside her head she was stuck on repeat thinking, "No no no, not a road, please god not a road."
Reaching the surface of her mind she finally woke up.

The sunlight was blinding when she first opened her eyes, even though it was filtered through the veil of clothing on the arm that covered her face. Fear filler her as she gave her eyes time to adjust to the light. Thoughts that her savage life had buried began to flow through her mind, and terror began to take hold. Her fiancée, her father, the blood, the terror. It all rushed back in and tried to drown her.
Fighting down the urge to run she realised that she had to look. She had to know where she was.
She calmed her racing heart, slowed her breathing, and removed the clothing that covered her face....

>> Continue to part 5 - New Light >>

Saturday, 30 August 2014

This Shadow Life - Take Me Home

Today I went walking in the forest. I don't know why. I didn't plan it. I just found myself getting up from the lounge, putting down the chocolate, and tying up my shoes.
As a rule I don't exercise. It's easier to do nothing. It's easier to hate myself.
I know I need to make changes, but it's so much easier to just sit back down and watch another movie. To watch other people living wonderful, fulfilling lives. It's easier to be nothing myself.

Today was different somehow. It's like something was calling to me. Something I couldn't see or hear. Something inspiring movement in my wasted limbs. Something calling out to my very soul.
Through the open fields I wandered. Mindlessly placing one foot in front of the other, drawn onwards, ever onwards.
With time the field gave way to trees. The forest grew up around me with each laboured breath I took. It was too small to notice at fist, but with every step that I took through the trees I felt the peace growing back into my heart. With every breath I felt the self loathing slip away, I saw the world grow brighter. With every step my heart grew lighter, my mind clearer. With my body moving my thoughts gained purpose. To the rhythm of my breathing I contemplated myself. With the sun shining I remembered who I am.
Then the rain came down, gentle at first. It filled my lungs and clung to my eyelashes. It was like walking through a cloud. I smiled through the water as I felt a bubble rising in my chest.
Then the rain got heavy. It poured over me and I stopped. I stopped to hear the beat of the earth's heart dripping through my blood. I stopped to revel in the calm, in the elation, in the peace. I stopped to revel in myself. I turned my face to the sky and the bubble finally reached the surface. I laughed. The rain washed me clean. Washed my soul clean.

When the hate creeps in, it's like poison. Slow and patient and deadly. It seeps into my bones with every second that I spend away from this place. From the living forest that reminds me I'm alive.
Most often I am dying so long that I forget to even come back here. I don't notice myself changing. I feel fine. Until the forest calls me back here and reminds me who I am. It draws the poison out. It folds me deep into it's embrace. It reminds me that there is still beauty. Still purpose. Still peace to be found.
This life I have chosen. This path I am on. I think it is good for me, but it is so not good for me. There are no trees where I work, but the money is good. It's a good job. It's everything I was ever supposed to have. But as the poison sinks in, sometimes I hear the forest calling me home.

Monday, 25 August 2014


Walking down the road, headlights shine through me.
How did I get here? We were so happy .

I must have missed when you started to hate
I should have stopped you and escaped this fate .

Here in the gutter, you left me broken,
Alone since, not a  word I have spoken

People must see me, when the light is right,
I know 'coz they jump, and scream loud in fright

But walking along this cold empty street,
You are the one I am hoping to meet

I owe you one for what you did that day
you left me to die and ran on your way

Silent tears are drifting slow down my face
That night from my mind, I cannot erase

Now I am nothing, I'll never be free
I'll find and kill you, you did this to me. 

This is something I wrote for a challenge in one of the communities that I am a part of. 
The challenge was to write something related to the word 'Death' only using 10 syllable lines. :]
If you have any ideas/writings for this challenge, feel free to post in the comments below. 

Girl in the Night - Part 3 - Insight

<< Return to part 2 - Flight <<

The world exploded in Sarah's ears as she crashed into the water. The hard surface slapped into her back and forced the air from her lungs. Bubbles rushed to the surface as she was forced down, down into the rocky river bed beneath the crystal clear water.
With the sky sailing by above her, Sarah could feel the current pressing her down and knew it would be pointless to struggle against it. A river this old and strong could not be conquered. Instead of fighting she let go. She had been fighting for so long, every nerve on edge, her strength stretched to the limit. The peace and quiet beneath the river was a welcome change. She relaxed into the rhythm of the river as it washed her back and forth across the ground, almost rocking her to sleep.
Her golden hair shifted gently around her face and tickled the back of her neck with the tiny eddies in the flowing water. The fine net her hair cast was so beautiful against the silver blue rippling sky above her, that she started to sink more deeply into relaxation.

The agony in her lungs began to subside and through the icy water she felt her face pull into a smile. At least they wouldn't be able to catch her now.

When the blackness overtook her she welcomed it with an open mind. She welcomed the respite from her aching body and her broken heart.


Sarah woke slowly in the misty morning light. The pillow beneath her head was cold, the bed hard and lumpy. Groaning as she moved, she rolled over to pull up the covers. The icy silk sliped between her fingers. Normally when she woke she was warm and comfortable in her huge bed. The maids would be clattering around in the kitchen, and the smell of bread would waft up the stairs. This was different. She was cold and sore, and the hard uncomfortable thing beneath her was definitely not her bed. Letting her senses roam out in an attempt to determine her location, she heard a gentle bubbling of water, and she smelled the salty tang of the ocean.
With that smell it all came rushing back. The announcement, the death, the running, the fall.
Laying on the frozen rocky river bank she broke. The wave of grief crashed over her and tore her to splinters like a ship thrown onto a reef.
She cried forever. She cried until it was all that she could remember doing. She cried for herself, for William, for her father. She cried for everything that she had lost in less than a week.
When her tears ran out she sobbed. Dry, painful half screams rocked her body and tore from her chest. She curled into a ball and tried to hold herself together. It didn't work. She felt pieces of her soul crumbling into nothing. She was turning to dust and floating away with the breeze. With each shuddering breath she felt herself slipping. However, she also noticed the agony subsiding with every particle that left her and so she let go. She surrendered herself to the nothing and felt it all fading away.

When she had lost it all and nothing was left, exhaustion finally took over. Her body went limp and her mind roamed calmly through the memories piled up on the floor in her heart. Her thoughts no longer spun out of control into grief, but instead sank deeper into a kind of meditative self reflection that she had never felt before. She learned many things about herself, her life, and the world she lived in. More than anything else, she realised the mistakes that she made which had led her to that point.
She had trusted. She had loved. She had relied on men to look after her. She had been soft and fragile. It was her fault. The men in her life had never been perfect, but Sarah realised that she was to blame for allowing them such control over her in the first place. She should have been learning about the world and how to take care of herself, instead of worrying about what dress to wear and how to style her hair so that she would be more pretty than all the other girls. She should never have blindly trusted the men who were supposed to protect her.
Drawing strength from this realisation, and her new resolve to never make those mistakes again, a burning determination filled her body and flames hardened her heart.
Sarah pulled herself from where she lay, half submerged in the river, and began her journey inland.

>> Proceed to part 4 - Half Light >>

Thursday, 21 August 2014

Pretty flower picture

I often find that drawing something pretty makes me feel a little better. 

These are really pretty and actually quite easy to draw. 

Give it a go :)

Wednesday, 20 August 2014


Everyone is selfish, 
in their own tiny way. 
I just want someone to hear
the things I have to say. 

I want you to know what I have been through
how hard it's been to persevere, 
you just want me to stop talking, 
this is too hard for you to hear. 

I think my need to talk it out, 
trumps your need to not be hurt.
You think your comfort more important
and stick your head in the dirt. 

"Can we please change the subject?" 
Your continual request.
How can I ever deal with what happened,
if I cannot get it off my chest?

I need to tell someone about it, 
I need to share this load. 
If I always keep it bottled up, 
someday I might explode. 

Sunday, 17 August 2014

Cold Like Me

Kiss me on the lips. Open your mouth. Let my frozen breath mix with yours.
Press your skin to mine. Hold it there. Feel your body shiver.
Murmur my name. Say that you love me. Listen to the silence of my response.

You shouldn't have let it come this far. Now you will get what you deserve. You may not realise it now, but you asked for this.
I warned you that I'm cold. I warned you over and over again. I told you I would break you. That I would tear your heart into pieces. You said that you didn't care. That you don't care. That there is nothing I can do that will stop you loving me. Do you see how pathetic you are?
You are clinging onto nothing.

Maybe you thought I was joking, or trying to be cute to encourage you on.
I wasn't. I was serious. I am serious. I will bring you down with me, one degree at a time.
We will do this thing that you wrongly call love all through the night. Over and over again you will convince yourself that I love you. That I was wrong. That this is something.
In the morning it will be over and I will be bored of you. You will cry, but frankly I don't care. I'm cold.
Cold and hard as ice.

Maybe you think that you are different, just like all the ones before you. Maybe you think you can change me. You think you can melt the icicles from my soul with the warmth of your love?
You can't. You won't have a chance. You wouldn't even have a chance if I wanted to let you try. There is no fixing me. There is no fixing someone this far gone. You are just a distraction, something to fill my time.

For the night I will get lost inside you. In the scent of your skin, the beat of your heart, and the light in your eyes. I'll forget myself in each physical moment. Then the sun will rise and I will forget you.
You might say that it means something. Those movements in the night. They don't. It wouldn't matter if it were you, or anyone else on the planet.You are all just my way of filling time.

I have so much time. I decided not to die, but now what?
What do I do with this life?
I have no interest in anything. I have no goals, no aims, no future.
So I might as well sit here in the dark with you and cool your fire against my heart.

You Make Me

You make me want to live for ever, just so that I can see every ray of sun that ever kissed your skin. Bouncing around the universe into infinity. You make me want to live forever so that I can drink every drop of rain that ever fell at your feet. I need to steal the things that touched you. I need to swallow them whole so that no one can ever claim you but me. You make one life time of loving you not even close to being enough.
This wasn't me, but you have changed me. I never wanted to live forever until you smile touched my lips. I never wanted to live forever until your skin was so soft beneath my finger tips.

You make me want to smile. A million teeth and lips as wide as the ocean. You make me want to laugh so loud the stars can hear. Te deafen everyone else so that your voice is mine alone. You make me want to change the world. To make it perfect for you, to reflect your glory.
You make me want to pull the light from the sun and cast it as a halo around you. To consume the smell of your skin.

You make me want to give you up. You make me want to quit you. Like a drug in my blood I need you. I crave you. I will die without you. But I am a drug in your system too. I'm the kind that isn't good, the kind that will just bring you down. I'm not good for you. I'm not good enough for you.

You make me want to fight for you. To cast the world into ruins if it offends you. You make me want to be a better man. You make me into a white knight in shining armour. You make me willing to die to protect you. It would kill me if anything ever hurt you.

You make me want to build palaces for you. To make the world beautiful. Gardens everywhere alight with fireflies and fairy lights. You make me want to fill the night with fireworks. Green and gold and red. Love blooming in the night sky. You make me want to hold you. Cradle you to me chest. You make me want to listen to the melody of your soft breathing in the morning. To your heart fluttering with life. You make me live just to hear you say my name.

You make me want to die right now to preserve this precious feeling. To sink into nothing with this smile plastered across my face. You make me want to vanish into the perfect happiness inside my heart.

You make me want to take you with me. So that we can be forever as one side by side. It can never be more perfect than now. Nothing could ever be more complete than you and I. I have peaked. I cannot lose you. I cannot bare for this feeling to change.

This is what you do to me. You make me into all the things I have never wanted to be.
You make me...confused.

Wednesday, 13 August 2014

Not a RIP Robin Post

Lately I have seen a lot of posts about Robin Williams. Obviously this is because he committed suicide a few days ago. There are loads of people sharing fond memories, celebrating his life, mourning our loss, and just generally posting about mental health.
To be totally frank, it all makes me pretty angry.

Millions of people all around the world are writing about the tragedy that is, the suicide of Robin Williams. They are writing about the wonderful, kind, caring, warm, and hilarious man that he was, they are writing about how he changed their lives for the better, which is all great, but also part of what makes me so angry.
To all of you who are saying that you already knew that you love Robin Williams, and that you already knew how important he is to you, I say, how often did you tell him that?
This isn't just about Robin either. It is about a whole facet of society just begging to have someone smile at them. This group of severely depressed people who feel so alone and hated that they end up killing themselves, only to then have a giant memorial thrown in their honour, filled with people crying and missing them.
I know some people who have committed suicide, and every single one of those deaths has been contributed to by unkind people such as teachers, parents, 'friends' and even complete strangers who criticise, bully, belittle and ignore. The perpetrators aren't bad people, and they usually don't even realise the impact of what they do.
I hate that we haven't learned the importance of showing people what they mean to you.
I'm not saying that any of this would have made a difference to Robin Williams, I am just saying that it makes a difference.

Before the news of his death was broadcast around the globe, Robin Williams would almost never come up in conversation. There were not many articles, stories or posts dedicated to him. He was nowhere to be seen. Now, the world has exploded with quotes, images, and tributes.
What makes me mad is the timing.
Why is all this love and affection coming out now, now that he is dead and it can no longer brighten his life?
Why the hell does someone have to die before we realise how much they mean to us?

Did you write to him? tweet him? draw him pictures?
Did you ever try to connect with him as a human?
You probably never did. You almost certainly didn't do that last, and most important one.

It happens all the time. All the fucking time.

This is something that I have seen time and time again. People never learn.
Someone we cared about dies, they take their own life, and we are filled with sorrow, but also with regret. Regret for not telling them we had a crush on them, for not smile back at them from across a class room, for teasing them the day before it happened.
This regret should be the sign that something needs to change, that we need to be kind to other people.
Everyone is fighting a battle. We shouldn't be trying to make that fight even harder.

But for the person who ends up dead, it all tends to feel like a whole world of hate, and often just one kind person trying to make a connection makes all the difference.

I hate that people are still feeling so alone and unloved, that death is all they have left.

Smiling at someone on the street might be what convinces them not to jump off the bridge that they were walking to.

Reach across the space between us,
meet me where I stand.
Stretch you arm out across the gap
and take my trembling hand.

All I need is to feel a connection,
to know that someone cares.
People say that I matter,
but they're so caught up in their own affairs.

No one sees that I’m falling,
into this dark abyss of despair.
I feel like I’m drowning in sorrow,
struggling for every gasp of air.

I don’t want to be seen as a whinger,
someone who will just sit and moan.
I’m not looking for attention,
I’m just so tired of being alone.

Cherish the people you love, and most importantly, let them know that they are loved.

Monday, 11 August 2014

Regret Me Not

Relationships always end, and 
someone always leaves with a broken heart. 
But I need you to remember how you loved me, 
at least at the very start.

Remember when things were beautiful, 
before this twist in the plot, 
Remember those times now that we are parted. 
Please regret me not. 

The tears are running down your face. Your make up is running with it. Overzealous, overemotional, overreacting, but not this time. This time your tears seem like an understatement. How are you even breathing? I'm not. 
With the tears, and the make-up, and your somehow-still-beautiful crying, I'm still instinctively wanting to protect you. To draw you close in my arms and save you from the unending number of things that upset you. To shield you from the world that gives you too much. Feeds you too much. Makes you too much.
I can't help you this time though. This time you are the one inflicting the pain. 
On yourself. 
On me.
My arms are glued to my sides. My head is filled with hornets buzzing. Buzzing and stinging. Stinging me with your words. "It's over". 
Just two words. But two words that carry the weight of the world. The weight of our world crumbling into rubble at my feet. Colours bleeding. Plants dying. The sky falling into the sea.
The hornets wont stop buzzing. 

The world is fuzzy. Nice and blunt and easy to take in. Perhaps I'm going to pass out. 
I still can't remember how to breathe. I don't even remember what it feels like to breathe. To draw the air in and know that I'm alive. I'm not alive. I'm stone. 
Black spots are marring your face and I can feel that I'm starting to sway. 

"Are you even listening to me?"
I remember to breathe. 

I can see your face changing. Anger colours your features with red. Is it anger? I don't really know any more. How can I presume to know anything about you. Sure, two seconds ago you were the other half of my heart. The missing pieces from my soul. I thought I knew you better than myself. 
That person wouldn't have done this though. Not her. 
This is you. I don't know you. 

The buzzing has quieted down now. With every breath that I take, more of your words are breaking through. The carefully constructed mask that I live in is falling to your feet. I am naked before you. Naked like I might never have been before.
You are ranting, but I'm still stone still. 
I didn't love you. I didn't treat you right. I have held you back. How could I do this to you?
I don't know. I didn't realise that I was doing anything like this to you. I thought I was loving you, supporting you, treasuring you. 
I don't even know what you are saying. Were we even in the same relationship?
Obviously not. I was living in paradise. You were stuck in hell.
How can you say that I don't love you. Even now when your words are ripping my soul apart, I love you with the pieces that I have left.

"God! I wouldn't even be surprised if you told me that you cheated on me."
I don't know what to do any more. I am baffled. The world is fuzzy again, but this time it is all in my head. I can't even keep up with you. Not this time. You must have left me long ago, to even be thinking these things now. You pulled back. Looked from a different perspective. Looked at me from a different perspective. 

I never knew why you loved me. 
I guess one day you looked at me and realised that you didn't know why either. 

I don't even care if you leave me now. This new you isn't the you that I loved. I guess you changed and I didn't. I just need you to remember.
Remember things the way that I do. Remember the way that you loved me at the start. When things were beautiful and the smile still reached your eyes. Remember how I would kiss your eyes as you started to fall asleep. Remember the sunshine on your skin as we lay in the grass, laughing at the world. 
We were gods, you and I. We unlocked the mystery of the universe, the meaning of life. With our hearts beating together we found the thing people search forever to find. We were in love. Remember the giddy highs we shared, and the all consuming passion. Remember the secrets whispers, and the feel of my fingers in your hair. 

I need you to remember the precious, perfect moments, not this horrible, poisonous relationship you seem to think of now. 
Even as our life together is severed. Even as I hate you a little for doing this to me, for walking away from me. I need you to remember that you loved me. I need you to regret me not. 

I thought my hand would hold yours until the ending of time. 
I am a tree. My fingers are roots. You are the earth.
My life. 
My death.

Sunday, 3 August 2014

Liebster Award!

It never rains but it pours.

There is often not much happening in my life, but then something changes and all of a sudden I have a million things going at once. 

One of the things going on at the moment is that I have been nominated for a Liebster award. That's pretty exciting right?

It's great to know that my writing has made an impact on people in the few short months that I have been blogging. :]

I'm super flattered and apparently I have to write this...

I was nominated by Kate Arbre because apparently she enjoys what I do. (crazy, right?)

Kate is pretty rad, she writes a blog called Our Wolf Song (I know what you are thinking, greatest name for a blog). It's about finding great music, as well as helping people who struggle with self harm.

This award is a pretty good way for readers to discover new and awesome blogs, as well as a way for us bloggers to get more exposure. Basically, it is a great way of connecting people and strengthening the blogging community.

The rules of the Liebster Award are as follows:
1. Thank your nominator!
2. Write 11 random facts about yourself.
3. Answer the questions your nominator asked.
4. Nominate people (with smaller accounts) and tell them!
5. Write 11 questions for your nominees.

11 random facts about Sasha Heart:
1. I'm not a fan of religion, but I am a very spiritual person and meditate quite regularly.
2. I have experienced depression, and ptsd for most of my life. 
3. I love movies, books, music, and really any form of escapism.
4. I'm a horse rider and I currently own two horses. 
5. My room is purple.
6. Sometimes I cry in my sleep and wake up with tears running down my face.
7. Social situations make me uncomfortable.
8. I'm a pretty obsessive person. At the moment I can't get enough of tiny houses. 
9. I currently have two tattoos (planning on more) and nine piercings.
10. I believe that learning how to see things from someone else's perspective and understanding where they are coming from, even if you don't agree with them, is one of the best things you can do to become a better person.
11. I love toast so much, that sometimes I get so excited when I eat it that I get the hiccups

11 questions from Kate:
1. Pick 3 people for your Zombie apocalypse team (can be famous, fictional etc...)
Chuck Norris (obviously) because no zombie would ever be a match for him. He would do all the fighting while I just hang with the other two. 
Ian Somerhalder because he is a hugely inspirational person and I feel like he would be great to talk to.
Probably also Andy Biersack, because lets face it, he is a super hot, talented, and very cool guy. 
2. What is 1 item you can't live without?
I think I could live without pretty much everything. 
I have actually always thought that I might like to live a really simple life in the country with no power or technology. Just me and animals and nature. God that sounds so lame a hippy. 
I would probably struggle without some pens and paper to write with and a couple million books to read though.  
3. Why did you start blogging?
I started blogging mostly for myself. I love to write and be creative and I figured that blogging would be a good forum because it would make me write regularly. 
Then I realised why I actually want to write a blog. 
It's because I have a story. A story that many people can relate to, but that very few people will talk about openly and honestly. 
I'm not in crisis any more, but when I was I was desperate to find something, or someone that I could relate to. Someone who would understand, and be blunt and honest. Not someone who would bombard me with virtual hugs and stupid, hollow, inspirational words. 
I never found it and I ended up hating the internet community for not being what I needed. It felt like everyone was just full of shit to be perfectly honest. 
There is a phrase that I have found to be very true of the internet in regards to depression and mental illness. It is "we are just a bunch of suicidal kids, trying to convince other suicidal kids that suicide isn't the answer".
That has stuck with me because it is so true. I don't want to be like the people I found on the internet, or just another suicidal person trying to tell you all that it isn't the answer.
I have no idea what the right thing for you is.
So now I write this blog about anything and everything, and I take the time to talk to anyone who wants to contact me. 
I tell my story, and also the story of a lot of other people that I have met along the way, in the hopes that someone will read it and it will help them to feel just a tiny bit less alone. 
What I write is often uncomfortable and controversial, but it is honest and it is important.  
4. What instrument do you wish you could master?
I am actually a flautist (that's a person who plays the flute). I played all through school and managed to get pretty good. 
I have also had some experience playing the sax, piano, trumpet, drums, and violin. 
Not to brag or anything. lol
5. What country do you want to visit the most?
I have actually been to a lot of countries. 
I would love to go back to Poland. That place is amazing. 
Of the places that I haven't been, I think it would be rad to go to Africa and/or Alaska. They both seem so savage and wild, something that I can relate to. 
6. What was the last dream you had?
I don't really dream. At least not that I remember. 
Sometimes I cry in my sleep, so maybe I have sad dreams. That's pretty weird, so I will elaborate. 
When I was younger, someone made fun of me for crying so much. That New Years, I swore that I would never cry again. That is a pretty hard thing to do and naturally, I failed miserably.
Skip to the present and I have recently realised that I have accidentally achieved that resolution. I almost never cry. But I guess it all just stays pent up inside me and the only time it can get out is when I can't control it, aka when I am asleep. 
7. Your happiest moment?
I honestly have no idea about this one. I don't really have any outstandingly happy moments. 
Maybe when I was walking out of the airport terminal, exhausted after like 24 hours of flying, and lonely after two months overseas on my own, and saw my parents and nan there waiting for me. :]
8. Fight or flight?
Neither. I am all about passive acceptance of the world.
I think that people should be able to say or do whatever they want unless it harms someone else.
If it really came down to it and I was in real danger, I like to think that I would fight but I would probably just escape into my mind and let whatever happens happen. 
9. Your favourite band?
That's a mean question. I have way too many favourite bands.
I am a fan of just about every kind of music and what I listen to depends on my mood. There are a couple of bands that I never get tired of listening too though, so I guess they would count and my favourites. In no real order...I love Soilwork, We are the Ocean, The Used, Alesana, Bullet for My Valentine, Breaking Benjamin, Parkway Drive (a great Aussie band), Black Veil Brides, Asking Alexandria, Birdy, Christina Perri, Deathstars, Falling in Reverse, Escape the Fate (when Ronnie was the lead singer), Imaging Dragons, and Fort Minor. 
10. What are your favourite YouTube channels?
I don't really like to spend/waste too much of my time on youtube. So I have no idea. 
11. If you could control 1 of the 4 elements, what would you choose?
Probably air, based on the idea that air is connected to the soul and the breath of life, but in terms of practicality and which would be the most awesome to use, I would go with water.

My Nominees
I am going to nominate Steph Ex, mostly for her creative writing entries.
Her writing is great and something that I can relate to.
I always love seeing her work pop up on my news feed.
You can see the creative entries on her blog here

I'm Also going to nominate Max Saunders, the post-apocalyptic writer from Exmouth.
His stories are weird and interesting. He is also great because his name is Maximilian James-Bainbridge Saunders. Best name EVER!
You can find his blog here

I would also nominate Kate Arbre, but she is the one who nominated me.
You can still answer the questions if you want Kate. ;]

I would like to amend these nominations to include a new blog that I have discovered and a new person I have met who 100% deserves this. +Christina Campbell Hughes .
Your blog is great. I really like reading about your adventures and looking at your amazing snowman and pink gumboot pictures. :]
You can find Christina's blog here

There are others who I would nominate because they are amazing, but most of them already have a fairly large following.

Questions for my Nominees
1. If you could become a character in any book (replacing one of the existing characters or entering as a new one) who would you be and what book would you be in?
2. Why did you start blogging and what do you hope to achieve with your blog?
3. If you could only eat one food for the rest of your life, what would you choose to eat?
4. What was your dream job when you were a kid?
5. What superpower do you wish you had?
6. What is your favourite book or book series and why?
7. How many countries have you visited?
8. What do you value most in people?
9. Cats or dogs?
10. What medium do you use when writing creatively? (pen on paper, pencil, computer etc)
11. How do you feel riiiiiight now?

Thanks for reading, and remember to keep counting the seconds. :]