Cried out and cold

I'm staring into this chasm, and I know that in the next few months, I'll pass through and come out the other side. It's the only way out of here.

I'm scared.

I've felt like I'm on the verge of tears for a few days now. But they don't come.

The last time I dropped my guard, they wouldn't stop.

Fuck Pandora

The misery she's caused. She should have shut the lid on hope.

Games

I'm just really bad at playing games. Any kind of game at all.

Anything that involves navigating yourself to one of only two outcomes, win, or lose, I'm just terrible at. I Always Lose.

Any Sports - I always lose.

Computer Games - I always lose.

Chess - I always lose.

Cards - I nearly always lose.

Just life in general - I pretty much always lose.


Except for Mr Squiggle.

I'm really good at playing Mr Squiggle. I guess there is actually no winning or losing in Mr Squiggle, so it doesn't really count as a 'game' as such. Mr Squiggle is basically the fairest game that you can play with someone. I think that's why I like it so much. I also love that it gives you an insight into each others imagination and sense of humour. Such admirable and exhibiting qualities to explore in someone.

Except, I always keep the other persons ones.


And always find mine in the bin.

So in a game with no winners or losers, I still somehow manage to lose.

decimated

Sometimes I come up for air.

But mostly I'm just suffocating in this enveloping darkness.

Wondering why every beautiful thing recoils, or slips away.

Taking all the best parts of me away with them.

Thai Sweet Chilli Doritos

And Beer.

And Cigarettes.

And Weed.

In Your Hair.

On My Finger Tips.

It's all still there in the morning.

A scar can be hidden, but never erased.

The Greek name for butterfly is Psyche, and the same word means the soul. There is no illustration of the immortality of the soul so striking and beautiful as the butterfly, bursting on brilliant wings from the tomb in which it has lain, after a dull, grovelling, caterpillar existence, to flutter in the blaze of day and feed on the most fragrant and delicate productions of the spring. Psyche, then, is the human soul, which is purified by sufferings and misfortunes, and is thus prepared for the enjoyment of true and pure happiness.

Silence

Abruptly the sound ceased
Suddenly ,the desolation ,the solitude became unendurable
While that voice sounded ,London had still seemed alive
Now suddenly , there was a change , the passing of something
And all that remained was this gaunt quiet




Taken from Jeff Wayne's musical version of 'War or The Worlds'