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10/01 Direct Link
There was a blackbird, composed of night, perching on the tip of the aerial.

Its caw was a dulled blade, renting the earth, cracking it all into pieces.

As the rain fell, it turned its eyes towards the clouds, staring them down, defying them to continue to pelt its face.

I just stood there, watching, thinking how to write all this down, before it could all escape.

Eventually it did. The blackbird flew away, long languid flaps of its wings propelling it past my field of vision to a new land. I, too, left, as the rain fell.
10/02 Direct Link
I made it here.

I'm not typing this in my room. I'm typing it in a very poor imitation of my room. It's bigger, certainly. Just more room to be empty in.

There are so many things I need to do. So many people that I need to see. I don't know who they are, where they are, what I'm supposed to be doing. But I'm not panicing.

Instead, I'm calm. Things will work out. They always do, no matter what some people may try to tell you.

So I'm here, listening to jazz fm, and it is all good.
10/03 Direct Link
I'm in love. A drunk told me so.

The floor sticky, melting, pulling in your feet. Agressive lights punching you in the face and music hammering against the walls. All around, people enjoying themselves, ignoring themselves and allowing all those fears to drop away.

Shouts in my ear and respect for staying sober. A cornerstone.

I just want to run away. Tear through the crowd, the heat, the lack of sleep and head towards a door, any door. Just something that will take me away.

I want to be able to join them. I really do. I wish I could.
10/04 Direct Link

'Everything just seems to be so different.'

'Well, what did you expect?'

'I don't know. A...small change. Little things. A little less time, a few more people. But...everything just seems so distant. All those things and people I knew. I know! I still know them. I do. They...I don't know...seem so far away. Physically. Emotionally.'

'To be fair, they are far away. You've been so used to having everything and everyone at your fingertips. And now, you don't. But you will get used to it. Everyone does. So just give it a little bit more time.

10/05 Direct Link

'Why do you write so much about love?'

'I don't know. I suppose...if I were to write down the word 'tree', then you would immediately get an image in your head. I could then further refine that image by writing the word 'oak' or 'pine' in front of it. But if I wrote down the word 'love', then what do you see? People kissing? Holding hands? Poetry, roses, grand gestures, noble deeds? It's not just one thing. It doesn't have a single defining image that everyone would pick. Which makes it more interesting.'

'More interesting than trees, I guess.'

10/06 Direct Link
I seem to have finished my work before eveyone else.

This is not a good sign.

I mean, I didn't go out a couple of days, and I get up earlier than most people, but still...

It's only the first piece. My tutor will tell me what I need to improve, what extra detail I need to add, whether this should go or this should stay or this should be shoehorned in.

The essay was about fluid comparments. Not the most riviting subject in the world.

I think I might try to re-memorise the concentrations of the various ions.
10/07 Direct Link
'Hello Mr red-blood-cell.'

'Hello David.'

'Do you mind if I try and make you burst? It's nothing personal. I just need to do it for this experiment, which may or may not help me pass my exams.'

'Well...I don't know. Will it hurt?'

'I suppose it could do. Bursting does seem to be a rather painful process.'

'I don't want it to hurt.'

'I know. I know. Neither do I. But this is something I have to do.'

'Do you think there's anything after bursting?'

'Would it help you if I said yes?'

'It would.'

'Then yes.'
10/08 Direct Link
Waterloo sunset's fine.

This sunset is fine, too. I mean, it's probably not as good as the one at Waterloo, but it's pretty good. It has colours and everything.

The sunset's even better when you are here. A sunset should be observed by two people. I'm glad I have you to observe it with.

Look! It's gone orange! I like orange. It reminds me of soggy, butter filled toast.

You know, the sunset doesn't last long. You last much longer. You may be far less orange, but you are far more beautiful. More poetic.

I'd pick you over a sunset.
10/09 Direct Link
The king on his roof glanced and saw,
Fell in love with a woman
Until thoughts of her consumed him.

Her silhouette painted onto the back of his eyelids.
Her voice dancing through his ears,
Hums and murmurs that made the air thin,
Pale and light.

She would come and kiss his cheek in the night,
Run a hand through his hair as he slept
And in the morning, all the remained would be a scent,
A gentle smell that would lounge across the room.

She was a plucked note on the harp.
Someone to love.
A woman to kill for.
10/10 Direct Link
'I made a love cake!'

'What's it made of?'

'Love!'

'But how does it rise?'

'Love! Love makes everything rise.'

'Well, what does it taste of?'

'Love!'

'And what does love taste of?'

'Strawberries, a hint of lemon and vanilla!'

'What does the cake look like?'

'Love!'

'And what does love look like?'

'A litte bird!'

'So who are you going to give it to?'

'Anyone who will take it!'

***

I wish I was a flower. Flowers don't have to do much. And they're pretty without even having to try. Flowers have it easy. I wish I was a flower.
10/11 Direct Link
The world really is such a wonderful, beautiful place.

I speak, of course, coming from a middle-class background. Coming from a wealthy country, with freedom and opportunites to progress. Where medicine is to a high standard and the prospect of actual war, the sort that improves poetry, is far away.

So really I can't comment about the whole wide world. But the little bit of it that I'm in is really rather nice. Very beautiful and sweet and light, like those sunny days in the afternoon and everything moves so slow and you can feel every little thing relax.
10/12 Direct Link
I sat for minutes on end looking out of the window at the small flock of birds as they circled around the buildings.

They seemed to be going in a figure of eight, getting wider and longer with each completion. I wondered how they could do that. How they all knew which direction to fly in, how far, how fast. How they never managed to hit each other, rather, stay in perfect time. Ballet in the sky.

And then I realised that I had multiple essays to hand in and that I was 'wasting time'. 
10/13 Direct Link
As one of the few purely sober people, I was trusted with certain responsibilities. These included:

1. Looking after drinking money.

2. Looking after drinking tickets.

3. Holding drinks.

4. Looking after someone who had had too much to drink.

I danced along with everybody else. The trouble was, as I didn't drink anything, I have no excuse for my dance moves. It's not alcohol controlling my limbs. It's me. I really do just dance like that. I don't know why. I just get self-concious, which makes me dance like a puppet made of very heavy wood.
10/14 Direct Link
A cold day, where misty breath clings to the air.

There was a green place. The greenest place I had ever seen. So green that it shone and glinted.

A drumbeat, medium speed and infectious, making bones twitch fingers rat-a-tat on the leg.

Standing in line, strangers all around. Instructions come and go, each step placed with little care until finally, we are ready.

A faster tempo. The sound of bagpipes. Feet moving together, hands meeting, shouts and grunts and running, running as fast as you can whilst the music keeps playing and you just smile, smile, smile.
10/15 Direct Link

An apology to the people I have met so far:

I'm sorry. I know that I probably seem really distant and untalkative and boring. It's just that I have a hard time with the idea that people may actually like me.

So that means that if you don't talk to me for a day, I will assume that you hate me. This can lead me to performing over-clingy acts in an attempt to win your love. This is not a Good Thing.

I'm trying my best. Please be patient. I do want to be friends with you. I promise.

10/16 Direct Link
Several years later he would come back to that very spot. That very bench, a flacky, ill green that shuddered in the wind. He would sit back down, in exactly the same place, back slighty turned towards those trees that looked like slumbering beasts of an older age.

He would reach down and pull at the grass, just like he used to do. Roll the blades between his fingers until they became limp, lifeless. Let them fall back to the ground and then, finally, breathe in the crystal air.

This very spot. That very bench. All those faintly whispered memories.
10/17 Direct Link

I managed to catch a cold. It took me long enough.

Having obtained a large jar, I covered the inside with honey and then just waited. Sure enough, a cold came along. They love honey.

When it had clambered into the jar, I ran out from my hiding place and quickly screwed on the lid. I carried it all the way home, and it only started to bang its little fists against the glass when it had finished with all the honey.

I'm going to try and teach it some tricks. Then I can show it off to my friends.

10/18 Direct Link

A poem. May God forgive me for what I have done.

I sit here writing, about golden tussles that frame
An elegant face that my words fail to capture.
Yet those gremlins of fear still my tongue from your name
Whose syllables, once uttered, was cause me entrapture.
Your eyes throw ropes around my poor frame
And draw me in, closer, to the beating of your heart.
Yet whilst I desire, I struggle all the same,
Grappel with a knife, cut those ropes, to depart.

I would write you poems, enshrine your beauty permanantly.
Yet I am destined to pick the wrong words eternally.

10/19 Direct Link
It was so strange, seeing you. I had no idea who you were. Your face was that of a strangers. All those lines and contours. Unfamiliar.

Then a handshake. A handshake? You once chased me around shouting 'zombie brains'! You were my fellow squirrel in a play. You were my friend. Friends don't shake hands.

Your face changed as we continued talking. It was more recognisable. More you. The you that I know. I could see who you were again. I could laugh with you and eat with you and go walking and it was nice. Very nice indeed.
10/20 Direct Link
I should have been there.

I thought that there would be too much work, that I would be crushed under the weight of it all. That I would spend the whole time fretting about the essays, the worksheets, the reading.

It turns out that I was wrong. There is never too much work.

I know you won't remember me not being there. But I will. I will remember missing all those little things that you said and did. All those moments of giggles and laughter and lightness that comeso from being with all of you.

Happy birthday. I'll be there.
10/21 Direct Link
They were walking along the street, when he suddenly spotted a sweet shop.

'Hey, do you mind if we go in here for a while?'

'Why?'

'I've just had a sudden craving for my childhood.'

She relented. He strode purposfully towards the shop and soon managed to locate the marshmellows. She wandered around, pausing to stare and smell at the strange shapes and colours of the sweets.

'So why marshmellows?'

'I just remember going for a long walk, and then being taken into the post office to buy some sweets. I would always have marshmellows. Do you want one?'

'Sure.'
10/22 Direct Link
i really wish i could tell you what im feeling but that would first require me to understand what im feeling i dont know its just so hard and im so confused i mean youre so lovely so very lovely and you stand out like this bolt of lightning just striking the ground but im so afraid of telling you so of telling you that you are lightning that you are beautiful that i would give you my soul because im afraid you wouldnt take it so i wont and ill just die a little every time i see you
10/23 Direct Link
It stretched open, like a petal, soft and pale pink. It took my thoughts by the hand  and led them away from the whirring, grinding noises of the factories that pump out ideas as smoke.

Instead, it lead them towards a tree in the field, green sheets of grass rolling across the landscape. It was quite. Peaceful. Your smell gave me a peace that I have not felt for a long time.

This has happened before. It did not end well. Which is why I'm running away from your smell, running from you.

I don't want to lose you.
10/24 Direct Link
I saw a drainpipe with the words 'You can do it!' etched onto its side.

Thank you drainpipe. I needed that. I really did. There's a large part of me that is thinking 'I cannot do this.' I'm just so tired, and everyone else is so smart, and I'm so bad and everything is just so much grander than I can ever live up to and this poor poor brain is dying from trying to run so far and so fast and I just want to lie on the floor and hide my head under a pillow and fly away.
10/25 Direct Link

'You know, I saw four homeless people in the space of a, what, 5 minute walk? Four people who have nowhere to go. It was so cold that evening, and I was looking forward to going back to my room and wrapping myself in warmth. But how could I, knowing that there were four people who wouldn't be able to do that? How could I possibly call myself a compassionate human being and walk past them and continue talking as if it was ok to leave them there? I couldn't. But I did, and died a little with each step.'

10/26 Direct Link
I went walking. I like walking. You see so many things.

Like someone dressed in a suit begging outside of the covered market. Or a woman dancing to the strains of 'when you wish upon a star', as played by on the piano by a busker. Or another woman, kneeling down, head in hands outside of a pub with a man standing next to her, looking into the distance. Or that person with a large bunch of flowers. Make that two people. Three.

You see every little part of human life. All the subplots of this strange old world.
10/27 Direct Link
You have no idea how much I want to talk to you. Walk with you through those meadows on a cold day, air crunching under breath, with the leaves turning from green to brown to golden and red and orange. 

My tongue is too small, to tight, to be able to allow words to freely flow. To make everything nice. Comfortable and enjoyable. All it can do is spit out words, small phrases, harsh and bullet-like. They scrape, make a sound that crawls across the skin.

If I could talk to you, I would do it all day.
10/28 Direct Link
'Hey, I haven't seen you all day. Where have you been?'

'Oh, I just went out for a walk.'

'And how was it?'

'It was nice. You know. I was just feeling a bit sad.'

'Sad?'

'Yeah, like, I felt that I was a failure. That I was idiotic. That every time I opened my mouth, I said something stupid. That people hated me and hated being with me and hated seeing me and would gladly cut me from their lives forever without a second thought. Have you ever had that?'

'I can't say I have...'

'Oh. That must be nice.
10/29 Direct Link
I have little blue crosses on my wrists and my elbows. If you apply an electrical stimulus to those places, my hands will start to twitch.

If you use your imagination, they look vaguely like the markings of a really boring cult. Maybe one that was like the red cross. But blue.

Last practical, I had to stab myself seven times in order to measure my blood glucose level. That was Not Fun. Who would have thought that this young man had so much blood in him. So much that it stained the coat of my fellow student.
10/30 Direct Link
The red cross is not a cult. Nor is it boring. I just happened to be writing when I was rather tired and had no idea what I was doing or saying. 

I know that sounds like my permanent state, but I was slightly more tired than usual. 

I wonder what a blue cross cult would do? Would it be evil, justifying themselves with grandiose speeches about the greater good? Would it be a force for good, spreading cheer and happiness throughout the world and saving the lives of innocent citizens?

I don't know. 
10/31 Direct Link
'Hey, I just got handed this leaflet from a guy with pen on his arms. Said he was from the blue cross cult or something.'

'What does it say?'

'Just kind of outlines their goals and aims and beliefs.'

'Which are?'

'That stuff happens. They plan to let stuff continue to happen without trying to interfere with it. They believe that stuff has always happened, and will continue to always happen, and that one should not try and fight it. Nor should one try and attach any meaning to said stuff. Because it just happens, no matter what.'

'Sounds interesting.'