Who I am.

insight eightynine  Here’s a few blog starters that I just never got round to pursuing: You’d be surprised about how much i feel. More than I seem to. From the persistent smiles and jokes. No. Not me. See me at home, watch me observe my face and cry. Watch me thrash at the walls just to release the anger I feel inside. Watch how I am never enough for anyone. Watch how they chip away as me, not good enough, not happy. Watch me cry and cry until I feel dizzy with short breaths. It’s as if I am lost, I have lost something within me. Something so significant that my entire personality depends on it. I feel as if I’m going rotten. Rotting from the inside and not showing a sign of disgust externally. My brain turning… I hurt. I hurt really bad inside. And I just want someone to hold me. Someone from the past. The present. Someone. I feel like ice. Thin ice. Like I make everyone tiptoe around me because they may make me snap. Crack. Break into angry shards that hurt anyone in my...

insight eighty i can't even deny it. i am obsessed with you. it's like a wave of emotion has washed over me, and i see how much i have fallen for you, how much i have fallen flat on my face for you. im obsessed with the way you look at me when i smile, your eyes dead set on my lips as i tease you. im obsessed with the way you hold me tight, and wrap your arms around me, keeping me close. im obsessed with your face when you're resting, sleeping so pure and precious. im obsessed with your touch and your hands tracing on my back, your fingertips so light and smooth. im obsessed with your laugh when i say something stupid, sighing in disappointment but still smiling in love. im obsessed with the way you make me feel and the support you give me, holding me and letting me ramble about everything in my head, not wavering when my voices cracks in near-set tears. im obsessed with everything you : your life, your family, your hobbies, your dislikes - i want to know it all and more....

insight fifty 2nd holiday... same old camera... daily writing... whilst in Gisburn, West Yorkshire... 28th August 2017 the art of a new day dawns pink wakening sun blue surprises spread within cloud grey headphones blast calm red top hanging down black thoughts settling in (well that was shit... shitty day) 29th August 2017 tomorrow i recognise every detail details one wants never showing all details details everyone always disguises (ooh secret message... ooh bad day) 30 th August 2017 crisp white sheets twisted round tired eyes squinting in the peeking sun from curtains closed flat white duvet welcomes and fluffy socks warm whilst howls hoot in trees (sleepy day...) 31 th August 2017 separated by emotion or by mental happiness it could be stability divide by a smile or a pair of tired eyes unfair rules without trust unfair happiness throughout the mind (more arguments... fuck sake) 1st...

insight fortyfour rain trickles down the blotched white roof of the conservatory and the loud taps echo through my left ear. music blasting through a single headphone in the other, that specific scent rolls through my open window and surrounds me as I dangle my bare legs over the frame. the sheer sound and tranquillity that comes from 3 am rain calms my faded soul and clears my mind of everything cluttered. clouds float over the trees as I wait in anticipation for the sunrise, phone balanced on lap listening to music. danger strikes through me as my mind flickers to the untimely death of the ifs and buts in the event of falling however I relax myself by staring out the blurry glass, simply watching the water droplets race to the bottom. at times like these i thank my sleep problems for keeping me up at the lonely hours, for helping my eyes strain at a laptop screen to type these very words whilst everyone else is taken away to the land of steady breathing and ...

insight thirteen she smiled as she passed the cream house on the way to school, clean windows with the china plates and bouquets of lilies sitting upon the ledge. a cheerful glimmer reflected off her blue eyes, brightening the mornings of the people who saw her. viewing the empty bus stop she strolled towards it, taking in the peace that hugged her. Sie lügt. murmuring the words of a Green Day song, she grinned at the small dogs that were playfully bounding after a stick, not a care in the world. everyone talked to her, asking about her weekend and how her amazing relationship was going; she spoke proudly of herself, not in a boasting sort of way, but in a soft and intriguing way. Es ist zu gut, um wahr zu sein. friends greeted her as they wandered up to class, another lesson with good grades and disruptive children. reading her book slowly, her mind escapes to the Sunday with the boy of her dreams. one smooth hand slipped into hers, his deep brown eyes fixated on her soft l...