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I love it when the autumnal winds blow into town. Trees burn, with reds, yellows, oranges. Subtle browns fade in and out of focus. Faint breaths of frost linger in the crisp chilled air, leaves crunch under with my footsteps. Mugs warm frozen fingers from the inside out. The skies remain a constant grey white, a blanket that slips at night to reveal a star filled cosmos. Duvet covers hang heavy and loved.
Winter beckons, but we revel in this season; the in between time, celebrated with fire and whispers in the wind and secret glances behind the ice...
What would you do if he said he loved you?
Jump, shout, run about. Smile as if my face had been split in half, go pink, and stare at my feet. Widen my eyes, as if to prove that I was being truthful when I gave the same reply. Wrap him in my arms, feel the beat of his heart against my chest, shut my eyes and know that I was happy. More than happy. A feeling I can't even begin to describe, though I've tried. Really I don't know.
But it doesn't matter, because he's never going to say he loves me.
Lemon, Cadmium, Gold, Aureolin, Coral, Apricot, New Gamboge, Terracotta, Indian, Winsor, Scarlet, Rose Doré, Quinacridone, Ruby, Alizarin Crimson, Carmine, Permanent Rose, Magenta, Cobalt Violet, Mulberry, Indanthrene, Sea, Cyan, Mineral, Ultramarine, Sapphire, Prussian, Cerulean, Maganese, Phthalo Turquoise, Emerald, Viridian, Terre Verte, Mint, Perylene, Olive, Teal, Naples, Ochre, Burnt Sienna, Venetian, Madder, Perylene Maroon, Caput Mortuum, Raw Umber, Antique, Vandyke, Sepia, Indigo, Payne’s Gray, Expresso, Hessian, Taupe, Neutral Tint, Ivory, Lamp Black, Mars, Davy's, Orchid, Chinese White, Titanium, Chalk, Pure...
Happy birthday to someone, just happy to another, challenge starts tomorrow, glad you're back.
Ever fallen in love with someone you shouldn't've?
'Won't you come away with me?' whispers the warm west wind. It has been singing softly all day, and tonight is no exception. Blowing away inhibitions of people who are otherwise shielded, watchful. The burning leaves float upon it, catching currents, whipped up into waiting whirlwinds. Eyes are bright today. Smiles are quick. Emotions are high. The heart beats faster, laughs come easier, taunts and teases spread like litter. I have no answer for them. I long to be able to quench their persistent questions, as I wish they could finish mine. But none of us know what to think.
Golden rain, mixing with the thin water droplets, embers twisting into ash. A quiet sizzling, slowly increasing in pitch before exploding softly - a similar noise to a sudden spaltter of water on a tin roof. Not like the sudden bangs of red fire in the sky, bright white lights in front of your eyes. This is more subtle, more elegant. Golden rain, pouring upon the people, embers twisting into ash...
We were soggy and damp and the ground sqelched beneath our feet. I can only say that I bet Tom was glad he didn't have to cycle home.
Goodnight Guy Fawkes.
100 beautiful words
Ailurophile, assemblage. Becoming, beleaguer, brood, bucolic, bungalow. Chatoyant, comely, conflate, cynosure. Dalliance, demesne, demure, denouement, desuetude, desultory, diaphanous, dissemble, dulcet. Ebullience, effervescent, efflorescence, elision, elixir, eloquence, embrocation, emollient, ephemeral, epiphany, erstwhile, ethereal, evanescent, evocative. Fetching, forbearance, fugacious, furtive. Gambol, glamour, gossamer. Halcyon, harbinger. Imbrication, imbroglio, imbue, incipient, ineffable, ingénue, inglenook, insouciance, inure. Labyrinthine, lagniappe, lagoon, languir, lassitude, leisure, lilt, lissome, lithe, love. Mellifluous, moiety, mondegreen, murmurous. Nemesis. Offing, onomatopoeia, opulent. Palimpsest, panacea, panoply, pastiche, penumbra, petrichor, plethora, propinquity, pyrrhic. Quintessential. Ratatouille, ravel, redolent, riparian, ripple, scintilla, sempiternal, seraglio, serendipity, summery, sumptuous, surreptitious, susquehanna, susurrous. Talisman, tintinnsbulation. Umbrella, untoward. Vestigial. Wafture, wherewithal, woebegon...
She was murdered under questionable circumstances, every way you looked at it. The door was locked from the inside, the room had no windows or other entrances, there was nothing on the floor. She had no markings upon her body, no blood had been spilt, but she was obviously and unavoidable dead. The police were confused, having found no leads to follow up. The detectives were at a loss as to where to start with this unusual case. Even the public, the media, the countless photographers and journalists could offer no explanation.
Why was she dead at all?
Fortune amongst the ranks. Are we pawns in this game, you and I? Others rejoice in this game, use it as a source to entertain, but are we in this together, or are we merely pawns?
Fortune, shine on me. Please, I beg you, shine on me, my words, my understanding. The endless rustling of papers, the shuffled silence, the pressure bearing down upon us all.
I sat my first English exam today, and I merely pray for fortune.
Fortune. Let this feeling envelope all in the presence of pure, utter, unmistakable Fortune.
Why do you cry little girl? Is it because you have finally felt some of the pain that you continually inflict upon others? Is it because you have met your true nature coming the other way, and were left beaten and bruised in the road? Is it because you have heard the hateful lies you spread about others in your own ears? Is it because your cancerous heart is made of cold stone, and hangs burnt and heavy in your flattened chest? Why do you cry little girl? Why why why?
You don't deserve tears and you know it.
I never loved nobody fully
Always one foot on the ground
And by protecting my heart truly
I got lost in the sounds
I hear in my mind
All these voices
I hear in my mind all these words
I hear in my mind all this music
And it breaks my heart
It breaks my heart
And suppose I never ever met you
Suppose we never fell in love
Suppose I never ever let you kiss me so sweet and so soft
Suppose I never ever saw you
Suppose we never ever called
Suppose I kept on singing love songs just to break my own fall
Just to break my fall
11/ 11/ 11
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie In Flanders fields.
RIP to all the brave soldiers. We all fell silent for you today, poppies red against our blazers, and the wind whistled throughout the room, sending shivers down our spines; as though your ghosts were watching...
Who are you?
Do you sing along to the radio, even if you don't know the words? Do you like to curl up with a book every now and then? Do you dance whilst cooking, jigging around the kitchen in time to whatever song is living in your head? Do you smile when your hands can flow across the keys like making music is magic? Do you get wrapped up in your emotions, and laugh to let it out? Do you live and let love?
I can breath again, for exams are over. Time for some fun...
'You're a bit of a slut, aren't you? You'd scream yes to the first guy that offered. You haven't really got any pride at all'.
I said nothing.
'Just a little bit a tart, aren't you? Always sending longing gazes at every guy in existance, no pride, no preferance'.
I said nothing.
'I think you're a little bit afraid. Afraid that you'll end up lost and lonely. So you're, what, keeping your options open? Please.'
I said nothing.
'Are you afraid? He hates you. It's never going to happen. You know that, don't you? You're worthless, a waste of space. Might as well be a spinster at sixteen'.
Still I said nothing.
SERIOUSLY, SERIOUSLY, SERIOUSLY, SERIOUSLY, SERIOUSLY...
Damn. Well, that's one challenge failed. What a coincidence, that as soon as PiZak writes about how no one ever writes to him, I manage to fail that challenge he set at the end of October. Oh well - but it is annoying. I did all the other days.
Parading up and down in the rain, being poked in the back by (naming no names) *cough* you lot *cough*! I'm glad you're here Zsofi; we've missed you so far.
I'm glad to have spoken to her - I've missed her so much. But she's gone to the USA.
The sun begins to sink, even at this hour, leaving a stretch of red trees on the skyline, and a frosty grey wilderness in between. I laugh with them (because I know they'll read this) but honestly I don't know the answer to their persistant questions. How do you feel? What is this feeling? I have no idea. All I can do is keep walking, keep breathing, keep smiling, always smiling. Keep listening to jazz. Keep hoping that it'll all turn out fine. Just fine.
I like to think there's a lot of love in this soul. I hope they know that.
One more time and I'll be looking for a rock!
She loved all the happy birthday choruses really - they both did, deep down.
The thick clouded fog crept lower, wispy tendrils whispering their way along the frozen ground. Trees were enveloped by it, lost to the human eye, the only shadows on a frosty wasteland. Misty voices, dampened by the air. Haunting music littered in my mind. I felt the cold seep into my bones, into my very soul. The cars came within a breath as I ran across the road. Still alive. For now.
All around me are familiar faces
Worn out places, worn out faces
Bright and early for the daily races
Going nowhere, going nowhere
Their tears are filling up their glasses
No expression, no expression
Hide my head I wanna drown my sorrow
No tomorrow, no tomorrow
And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take
When people run in circles its a very,
Very mad world
The group of girls adorned the kitchen. Two upon the worktop, one perched on a stool, and another two lounged against the walls. The sixth stood over the camping stove on the side, carefully watching the sizzling pancakes. Occasionly she would call someone to grab a plate, and would slip the pancake onto it before it was dolloped with nutella, lemon or sugar.
They laughed and chatted about their day, giggling over the excruciating sex education they'd had to sit through earlier, and the irony of a friend's 16th birthday the same day.
You guys already know this, but I'm going to say I love you anyway.
I walked through the whole day, as I always do. But a mere five minutes of walking stand out in my bustling mind. Enveloping fog shrouding the sky, skeletal trees looming out of the mists. But I like the clouds reaching so low; it's comforting to have the thicker air surrounding you, almost protective. I'm only sorry it was cut so short. This is probably a load of sentimental drivel, with little value, but still.
Thank you for loving me like you do, for writing about me so openly. I like how I look through your eyes.
To all the people I know write on here - people like Vera, Anna, Issac, David, Rani, Flo, Emma, Angela, Zsofia, Emma B, Alice, and anyone else who I've conveniantly forgotten....
But just so you know, not everything I write on here is true. No one said it had to be. I'm not actually lovesick, depressed, lonely, or whatever else you might think from reading this. I have to admit that most of this is fiction; I want to be a writer, and this is a good place to practise. Of course,
of it is based on truth, but definatley not all of it.
Sorry for the confusion, but I just wanted to set that straight.
I went to see the latest Harry Potter film today, with some amazing friends. However, although I practically cried the whole way through the film, it was one of the earliest scenes that struck me as being the most poignant.
When Hermione whispers 'obliviate' and slowly watches as her childhood photos fade from their frames. Her parents, innocent and naive, carry on smiling and talking to each other in low voices. Then she turns and we watch a single tear caress her cheek.
It sent shivers up my spine, and I could feel a matching tear on my own face.
A whispering wind that whips the leaves into fantastical shapes. A childhood place that holds trapped memories in the walls, but not mine. A jazz piano piece, called Autumn Leaves - very fitting for the picture outside. A piercing pain in both arms, of hepatitis A, B and typhoid. A suspended smile, and a few, brief words. My eyes are heavy after a week's worth of late nights, and there are black shadows under my eyes. I blink them away, as the pain envelops me in the darkness. It hurts, although the wind is still whispering secrets, before carrying them away. We are all made of stardust.
I spent the day dreading the evening. Butterfly nerves tickled my stomach, and made a mockery of my smile. My fingers fumbled as I coaxed a song out of the golden saxaphone. My voice trembled as the notes got the better of me.
But it wasn't all that bad. Not bad at all, actually. I always love the music, and drift away into fantasy worlds as the tunes slip between my ears. Alright, so I can't dance - but you smiled when you saw me try. Eyes roaming the dusty hall for familiar faces, and always catching smiles.
Smile for the music.
I can't honestly remember what happened on this day. I've managed to get behind this week, due to my personal challenge of reducing my internet usage. I do know that I had my James Bond session - and hour when me and 7 classmates watch James Bond whilst perching on desks and hiding behind scarves. And on Monday (possibly) we got hold of some dry ice, and dropped it into bottles of water, which smoked to the point that Toby made smoke rings. Penny even ate some - don't ask.
I'm taking English Lit, English Language, Classical Civilisations and History for A level.
The cold was a furious frost, that dug deep into the skin. However, the endless wating paid off.
I stretched my head back until I was staring at the sky, my uncontrollable smile skimming the stars. Snow. It made me laugh like a child, and my wide wide eyes drank the vision, and it tasted like the tears of angels on my tongue. And Angela showed the video, which made me laugh until I nearly cried. The memories came flooding back, and something inside me built up a warm barrier against the cold; laughing with friends, just happiness reigns.
It was so nice to be... comfortable. To be able to walk and talk, about anything that came to mind. To be able to be a group, an extended conversation. To feel like I wasn't making
But I'll tell you another thing that happeded today - I discovered a new person. They came in the size and shape of one that I've known for a while, but today there were smiles instead of glares, and compliments instead of mockery. It makes you feel good.
The child within me longs for snow. Angels, falling from the sky.
Icing sugar snow - just a dusting on rooftops and pavements, but enough to track pawprints on pathways. Dragon breath smoke rings, made by rotating the breather, and the cause of quiet laughter. He said he could see it in my eyes. The earth like a cake, waiting to be frosted by icy white clouds. Sitting and watching for sugar lump shakes, icicle downpours and forcasted frosts. Dreams were dusty and worn, with a new moccocan coat (watch out for the marshmellows) which hazed the raven's writing desk over with mist.
My dreams are out of this thin, tired body.
I was late, but he wasn't too mad. At least, I think he wsan't. Mum gets home tonight, which will be nice. Dad's out, visiting our neighbour in hospital; he had a stroke a week or so ago. I've done nothing all weekend, well, nothing constructive, but I am still tired, still worn.
Raindrop notes hit the snowflake keys like rhythm sticks. Spider web lamposts, complete with Narnia twinkles littered the clouds. Yellowing hearts wept new and deformed shoots. Craving. The fire crackles, a star burning bright in the grate. I'll miss it, you know. Candyfloss mountains.
Of today I remember two things. One is that I nearly walked into my shadow, and two was our rather strange conversation about eating myself.
So, the shadow. It happened while I was walking up the stairs. I was talking, and I looked in front of me to make sure I didn't fall, and the sudden shadow before me made me jump. It was a rather surreal experience, and I laughed about it afterwards, but I seriously thought it was someone else in front of me.
It also snowed. And then I
It started with a buzz. The cold white flakes falling from the sky, which induced many an exclamation mark (spelling again...). In the middle there were exams, and freezing feet. I don't remember much else, but there was ballet in the evening, which is funny considering what we already know about my dancing ability...
It ended with a question. Just a little one. Simple easy question, not like the ones I answer all the time.
Thanks Issac. Much appreciated.
Angel flakes. I've said it many a time, but that's because it doesn't change.
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