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Maybe the hug taught them to let go of their initial fears, and allowed them to come into contact with another human being. Everyone is so upright these days - a hug helps you depend on others, teaches you to know when you can't go on alone.
One week and three days left. I'm almost jumping at the chance to be back in the corridors, the chance to yell hello. I'm afraid you'll be disappointed when you see me, terrified of that 'oh no not you...' expression.
Bet you any money that I don't see you at all in the first week.
See the little angels rise up high
How do they rise up,
rise up, rise up
How do they rise up,
rise up high?
They rise hands up,
hands up, hands up,
see the little angels rise up high
All the little angels rise up, rise up
All the little angels rise up high
They rise heads up,
heads up, heads up,
see the little angels rise up high
How do they rise up,
rise up, rise up high?
They rise feet up,
feet up high...
I dream of the big city. Not quite London - London in another world. I know the streets by feeling them through the soles of my feet. I can walk with my eyes closed. I carry a guitar round in my head and make sweet music. Singing as I walk, I dance through the crowds, wearing no shoes and loose fitting clothing. Hair whirls in the wind. Everybody knows me, look at the girl, the dancing girl, the bohemian with the wind in her hair. I walk all day and all night, never stopping, always singing, smiling. Oh, how I dream.
I went to a christening today. The girl was ten, and we have known her family since our parents were in their 20's. She is a gorgeous little thing, old enough to appreaciate this ceremony where most children have forgotton it. Her older brother is my age - our parents act like the next time they'll see each other it'll be our wedding. He acts like he hopes so too. Her cousin is a year older than me, and a good friend. There was another family friend there too, Callum, a nice boy who looks a little like you, David. Hmmm...
Was it aimed at me? The awkward conversation, the dread connotation, the assumed nervousness? Or am I being assuming, self-centered, big headed, annoying, regrettable...
Or am I making mountains out of mole hills?
Saxaphone exam in two days. I am so nervous. I haven't practised enough, I know it, and now there's nothing I can do. My excuse would be GCSEs, but it's a rubbish one. Work experience today consisted of a primary school, reception class. Sweet, small, and I'd forgotton about the changing all together in the classroom. Talk about awkward. Especially when they loose their pants accidently...
They sat by the river bank together. She in shorts and a loose man's shirt, long tanned legs stretching out in the sun. He sat with his hands on the ground behing him, to support himself as she lay in his lap. Occassionly she would reach up and fondel his long dark hair, and laugh when he spoke, for she adored his sadistic sarcasm like no other. He sat and wondered how he had won her, what did she see in him? He didn't know of her infinate insecurities, how she treasured him...
Well, I can dream, can't I?
I am awkward when I'm sane. Sometimes, when I'm on a high, I just throw away all inhibitions, let my wild side lose. I do all sorts of crazy, confident things. But I feel awful about it after.
I aw your name on the list for the exams. I was first, you were last. Typical, I thought. We missed each other by less than six hours.
Then I had a horrid thought - you're year 11. That means you're on study leave. Which means that you won't be in school. Are you going to sixth form? Please say yes...
We waved goodbye to the old couple. They had just let us hitch-hike with them for the last 100 miles, down to Rome. But we were there at last. You stood in the dust, battered case in your hand. I held my old accoustic in one, the chess board in the other. The pieces were in a section of your sax case, but we'd lost one or two on the way. Pebbles made up the others.
We walked for an hour or so in the dust, through the city. A square became our home for a while.
Time to play...
'I'm sorry!' she shouted to him, as he turned away. He didn't look round. 'I said I'm sorry!' she yelled again. Tears, hot and full, spilled over onto her cheeks. She was really sobbing now, not the dainty tears of self-pity, but proper, ugly, bawling sobs. Still he didn't look round. She ran after him, screaming sorry at the top of her voice. She tripped and fell to the ground, screamed in pain as her leg ripped open.
She lay there in the dust, screaming and sobbing as her blood soaked the dirt.
Still he didn't look round.
Until the stars had conquered the sky...
what a beautiful phrase. I imagine them appearing one by one, the day fading like the sinking sun. A glint here, a glimmer there, like scattered glitter that has yet to fall. Darkess creeping slowly across the horizon, pale blues, yellows and pinks sucked in and transformed into midnight blue.
The tunes get mellower, softer, as nox beckons. But the night is warm, and there are others who will come to listen. People from dark allyways are allowed to love music also.
Music rules the night. Music rules the soul.
Wait for September...
When I was small I believed that everyone had a soul. I still believe this, but back then I thought a soul was like a kidney. I thought it was a long silvery organ that passed round the back of the right lung.
Now I believe that souls are merely percieved. They have no smell or shape, but are still there.
I like to believe that my soul is percieved as a storm. Rain lashing down through the trees, warm winds howling...
It's not about waiting for the storm to pass, It's about learning to dance in the rain
First the sky paled as dawn was considered. Pale blues and streaks of turquoise swam together in the ocean sky. Next, the washed out yellows and lazy pinks the broke like waves over the clouds. Sun stretching up into the space, filling it with gold. The sky dried, yellow becoming bolder before twisting first into greens, then blues. Pinks, reds and purples did the same, until the whirling symphony of azures and ultramarines and prussisns exploded into their finale.
Breakfast, though it was merely coffee with warm bread, took simplicity and made it beautiful in so many ways.
The 13th. Unlucky for some. Lucky for others.
Mine was totally usual. But it's not over yet. Are you the idiot, or the starstuck lover? I cannot tell, and it'd be interesting to know. Yay, Anonymus is back! hello, I see you've caught up, it's good to read from you again. By the by, DR1NK1NGM3RCURY - hey. I desperatley want to say something more interesting, but I can't right now - too tired.
Something very serious and awful has happened. A truely lovely woman is sick. She is a teacher at my school.
Just another painful reminder that life doesn't play by the rules.
I saw you again today. Coming out of music block, first thing in the morning. Gods, you're getting tall. I nearly said something, I was this close, but the moment slipped away. I was with people who would remember, and I didn't know how you would react. A horrible vision of disgust, fear, or a complete blank scares me. 'Sorry, I don't know what you mean'.
You may have seen me. I didn't catch your eye, but maybe I didn't try hard enough. I was standing with a tall, blond girl.
She's the only distinguishing feature I have.
I didn't mean to insult you. Honestly.
It's depressing that I can make a fool of myself, even in writing. Speaking is different, because you can't take the words back. But you can read writing, correct it, refine it before anyone sees.
And still I have managed to mess it up. Typical. Classic, you might call it. Hopefully I will improve when I start my creative writing course in September. I'm looking foreward to it. I'm also doing phtography, but I'm not sure if I'll change it to drama or not.
I'll remember that if I ever turn to criminalism :) who knows, it might be useful
On another subject, I went to the coolest barbeque EVER. My German teacher threw a party for us, as we've just finished all our exams. Vege sausages and Deutsche waffels - talk about the good life. I also met her wonderfully amusing husband, beautifully sweet daughter, and all singing, all dancing, unicycling and roof-climbing son. He only got on the roof to take pictures of us all, before discovering he couldn't get back in the window.
But I had the greatest of times.
Humans are never satisfied.
No matter what they have, how lucky they are, how beautiful they always look; everyone wants to be different. Some people say they would kill for my hair - longish and dead straight, even though I have never touched straightners, it doesn't even frizz in the rain. But I personally adore curls, which last about two minutes on my head before falling back to a dark, straight wave.
Here in Britain, we are so well-off compared to those in Africa. But we still complain, all the time.
Why is it impossible for us to repel selfishness?
Flying. Gliding through the air on great white wings, only the thinnest panel of glass between me and the sky. Only the thinnest panel of plastic between me and the earth. We were 1800 feet up in the air, and it was my hand on the joystick. No engine, only the sound of the wind rushing by, and the occasional buzz of the radio. My smile was wider than it had been for a long time. Every second I thought I would wake up, but this, finally, was reality. I was fufilling the dream. The real Dream.
I was flying.
Pop-bopping, bop-popping, bang-bang-banging, door to life, gate to death, caught up somewhere in between. Where am I going, where do I come from, where am I, pointless who am I questions, round and round and round. Square. Triangle. Stop, go, don't do what I say, do what the sky is blue. ajingle. ajangle. jdhs. ahuhc. Nonsensical nonsence. Ha ha ha. What you lookin' at? Me, who me? Who's me? Who's you? Knock-knock-knocking on the door to nowhere. Let me in. Let me out. Don't. Do. Everything! Ha Ha Ha...
Poor poor madman. All dead. All gone now.
'what's up?' I ask myself.
Ok, not good. When talking to yourself, I always point out the posative idea that you will definatley get a reply. Not today, however.
'Seriously, what's up?'
'Lots of stuff. I'm happy 'cause I got a commendation for English, tired 'cause there's only one more day of school, upset 'cause Georgie might be leaving, and disappointed 'cause I didn't get to say goodbye to him before he went on music tour. Didn't even get to say hello, in fact. And that's it.'
'Jeeesus, that's it?!'
I'm such an idiot.
I know you won't read this for six days, but I saw you just before you left today. I was standing less than a metre away from you. I even said your name at one point, I caught your eye several times and tried to smile. I so very nearly said hello. My hands were shaking with nerves, my stomach a butterfly pit. I was the girl with the fringe, hanging around the group of girls with Daisy, having their photos taken with her. I said hello to Alison too.
That was me.
Why did I leave?
So so tired right now. Ugh. Too busy, far too busy, I need to rest. I need to sleep. I have far too much to do, and not much time to do it in. So much so that I cannot do all of it, so now I have to choose what to do and what not to do. I have to choose. Quickly. It will mean upseting one person or another. Either is bad. I don't want to upset either. But I have to, for now. Ugh. I don't want to see any of them.
Far too tired.
Phone rang. I didn't pick it up. Bare feet. Real cold. Freezing. Shout from upstairs. Phone's for me. Pick it up. Familiar voice on the other end. Talking to me. I talk back. Mundane conversation. Pointlessness. Then the important words. She has my results. She has them. She is going to tell me if I passed. If I failed. What? I don't know. I will soon. She's going to tell me. Now, right now. Pass or fail. What? I'm going to know. She's going to tell me. Oh my God. Breath. She's going to tell me...
Thank you Lord.
Ain't no point wishing on a star
That's far too far away,
Ain't no point writing no note
To no fairy today
'Cause the fairy's will is breaking,
And the star ain't even waking up yet
Yes, it's too true
And the only note worth taking
And the only star worth wishing to
Yes, it's you
Yes, the only star worth wishing to
One more time
Yes, the only star worth wishing to
My stomach keeps hurting. I don't know why. Maybe it's nerves. Even though my results come out August 24th, I am still waiting in tense anticipation. 11am - I am allowed in. I am going with a friend of mine to collect them, though I'm sure I'll see other friends there too. After all, everyone who did an exam early will be there. That's a lot of people. Apparantly year 11's are allowed in at 10am. But they have more results to collect. But no one has to be there early. You can come any time you want.
I hate falling in love with fictional characters. Not because it might seem weird, but because it would never work out. This isn't because I'm not suited to them, but simply because they don't actually exist in this world. Amazing people like Sherlock Holmes, or Imp y Celyn, or Dustfinger aren't actually living next door. Which is a shame, because I'd
like to meet them. Although, I suppose they're always there for you - just open the book and there they are.
But if you know anyone who could be my fairytale love, give me a shout.
Today I sat down at my computer with too many hopes. I'd put it off till 12:30, to give you time. No one else is in the house - they're all out at my gran's, but I felt bad this morning, so I opted out. Just so I could do this.
I'm Stupid, don't worry, I know. Oh boy, do I sure know it. I'm the one that's had to live with myself all these years.
And just because I'm self-assuming, selfish and naive, it doesn't mean I have any right to sroll down the dates, looking for the blue hills.
Everyone has four lovers in their life.
The first lover is The Friend.
The friend is the one who isn't serious. There is true like here, not love.
The second lover is The Cheat.
The cheat is the one who takes your heart and snaps it in two.
The third lover is The God.
The god is the one who is too good for you, and you know it.
The fourth and final lover is The One.
The One is the one is the one.
One day I will have lovers.
On my entry for the 21st of June, I did not mention Terry Pratchett, saxaphone or German. But you knew all of these things. Which means that you must have read my previous entries. Which might mean you picked me when I picked you.
Food for thought.
On another subject, I love cities. I went to one today, and on every street there was a busker. A violinist and a cellist by the shopping center. An African choir in the square. Guitar on a back street. I'll be there, one day. Look out for me.
What was I going to write about today? Ugh, it was something really good, and I cannot for the life of me remember it. I was in town this morning, and I just thought, that's a good thing to write about. What was it now? Was it the way I fell down the stairs this morning? Or the way I broke the bracelet that I've worn everyday since I was 13? Or was it something to do with my cousins who I never see? Oh, wait, wait, I almost got it, it's on the tip of my-
No. It's gone.
The last say of July. This month I have made a fool of myself, caught chickens in the rain, aquired Mozart, made typos, finished the final year before my last, made friends, and discovered that I will soon be losing a great one. This month I have cried rain, drank music, danced tears. I have walked and said nothing, sat still and said everything. I have completed nothing, but I have done lots. Tomorrow I will go and help children at the crack of 8:30. Then I will go away, and then I will come back.
Please Come Back.
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