klena: (the motion makes me strong)
I'm really tired with all the strain, and being on a knife-edge waiting for news. I honestly don't know what I would have done without [livejournal.com profile] rogue_dreams yesterday. That's a lie, I do, I would have had another mental breakdown or "episode" or whatever the technical P.C. term for it is now. She's amazing, I just couldn't ask for a better friend or soul-twin.

Royal Wedding tomorrow! Now, being Northern Irish, the Royal Family/Britain is a bit of a touchy subject just because of the politics and stuff. However! Hannah and Guy are holding a Royal Wedding party where there will be stawberries and cream and cake and booze and an indoor picnic (because the weather forcast is crap). I am looking forward to it, and seeing Guy and Han before they go off to Japan for a month.

A whole 4 more days off! April, you have been a strange month - fact.

Music inspired by a twitter conversation between myself, [livejournal.com profile] whitehaiku and [livejournal.com profile] adellyna about Jude who I have not listened to properly in about a year or so? Definitely before my laptop was stolen. But I had an urge today to put it all back on. Turns out buying the CDs in first year was an excellent life choice

In order to cheer myself up, and everyone else, have some Joseph Gordon-Levitt and his amazing face.

klena: (just do it)
Sick of jumping through hoops that might be pointless. Everytime something get sorted, something else comes and fucking belts us in the face. Getting to the point of negligence, but no one will hold themselves accountable. I just want him home.

Relax by Ellen Bass

Bad things are going to happen.
Your tomatoes will grow a fungus
and your cat will get run over.
Someone will leave the bag with the ice cream
melting in the car and throw
your blue cashmere sweater in the drier.
Your husband will sleep
with a girl your daughter’s age, her breasts spilling
out of her blouse. Or your wife
will remember she’s a lesbian
and leave you for the woman next door. The other cat—
the one you never really liked—will contract a disease
that requires you to pry open its feverish mouth
every four hours, for a month.
Your parents will die.
No matter how many vitamins you take,
how much Pilates, you’ll lose your keys,
your hair and your memory. If your daughter
doesn’t plug her heart
into every live socket she passes,
you’ll come home to find your son has emptied
your refrigerator, dragged it to the curb,
and called the used appliance store for a pick up—drug money.
There’s a Buddhist story of a woman chased by a tiger.
When she comes to a cliff, she sees a sturdy vine
and climbs halfway down. But there’s also a tiger below.
And two mice—one white, one black—scurry out
and begin to gnaw at the vine. At this point
she notices a wild strawberry growing from a crevice.
She looks up, down, at the mice.
Then she eats the strawberry.
So here’s the view, the breeze, the pulse
in your throat. Your wallet will be stolen, you’ll get fat,
slip on the bathroom tiles of a foreign hotel
and crack your hip. You’ll be lonely.
Oh taste how sweet and tart
the red juice is, how the tiny seeds
crunch between your teeth.
klena: (intellectual)
Things feel strange inside myself again. Or maybe not strange inside, but definitely just above the skin. Hovering.

I hate the late nights. Before bed when my soul is glistening with the desire of being reforged anew, that tomorrow things are gonna be different and I'm gonna be so productive and I'm gonna be who I feel I might be in the shadow of my mind. The possibility, the hope, the tingle of excitement.

I hate the days. Throwing myself out of bed to switch off alarms and crawl back under covers, warmth, security, where I can be nothing and easy. Curling up and falling back into a world where I don't have to be. Then the lethargy of the day. Rushing about, feeling unprepared, no lunch made, forgetting something (a book, to wash my hair, to make lunch, to brush my teeth).

Lessons that spark something for minutes. Ideas that are bright in my mind, and new, and exciting. But then today, I felt snappish (the girl I sat beside starting raising hackles even though I quite like her) and didn't feel like being social, being in the environment. And I came home and did nothing and napped in the evening and worked for a small bit when all the housemates stopped watching TV.

My desire is gone. I have an essay for next Friday I haven't even considered, segements of Paradise Lost to read for Monday, Shakespeare to read for Friday, Freud to read by tomorrow and I don't care. I have two essays in two weeks after Shakespeare. And I have no impetus. My drive is practically non-existent and that terrifies me, because that might meant the depression is back. And I know it probably isn't (because it's not really something that goes away, it just...stops being so prominant in your life), that my fears are probably just the season's change and a malaise of the end of university and some illness that hasn't hit me yet but just lingers and I. I worry.

I want to work. I want to read my texts and secondary reading and enjoy it. I don't want university to be over. But I don't want to keep feeling like this.
klena: (every starfall brought you to tears)
i will never be good at goodbyes. not even temporary ones (two month temporary ones). he made me smile through my eyes leaking but that didn't stop them leaking. i hate this, hate that my eyes leak and i've never had someone i've said goodbyes to like this and it hurts, in the back of my throat and the bottom of my lungs and the surface of my eyes.

it's the summer, i always have to leave in the summer but this may be the first one i've wanted to stay somewhere that wasn't home.

i never want to be good at goodbyes.

and fuck you Zeppelin for having stupid semi-appropriate songs with semi-appropriate lyrics for me feeling like this

and fuck you iTunes for playing it
klena: (every moment you rise)
It's stupid - it's idiotic for a fic to get me this introspective and to feel this ache, a genuine every-cell-in-your-chest-cavity--is-cramping ache but it's a good thing. Introspection is something I lack except for little moments of wisdom - tiny pearls choking me before falling from my lips - and late nights with too much time spent alone. Like now, I guess.

I spend half my life caught between two distant thrummings of emotion: young and eternal and fuck this, i have forever; needing nothing more than smiles and laughter and stupid moments at 3am where nothing makes sense but something lock-clicks in your chest and time is not a concept at all, it's a thing, a rock wall against which the waves of happiness break and scatter before forming all over again.

The other is this thrum beneath my skin and bones and nerves, where i imagine the soul lays, jittering and shaking and anxious, too-fast breathing and hyper-aware of thhe world, that i may not get chances like this again and wanting to do something. Maybe not amazing or world-changing or even remotely life-changing but moments that will shine brightly for a few years or that will become ensnarled in the web of old memories when i get older until something shines a light upon it and it will no longer glisten like it did, but merely pulsate with an inner glow of something that i cannot recreate or recall anymore. The feeling of the entire world changing and the stupid Sublime terror and beauty of that moment.

The need to be with someone; to fuck, to argue, to scream at, to laugh at, to brush the hair from your eyes, to text you at random intervals in your boring day and turn the ventricles in your heart separate and bleed sunlight and giggling, ridiculous joy into your chest, to cause you to clench your fists and roll your eyes and repeat the same stupid cliches your parents utter about the young/the opposite sex/best friends/enemies/society.

There is no reconcilling this. Song writers will always sing about these two contrary states. Writers will always tie the concepts and use them, place the heart of the idea beneath the words on the page. People will know the ideas but will never acknowledge them consciously but they will always be there, like a song on a radio just a little too faraway to make out anything more than the fact there is a melody playing.

I am terrified. I will lose people in my life due to my own faults, due to theirs, due to life tearing us apart. Or I will lose them because life changes us, one by one the seasons change you as The Acorn puts it, or because life leaves us.

So I am sitting here, trembling, knowing that there are moments like this coming the rest of my life, that one day someone else will live in this room and it will never be the same and in some other life I will never think back to this place, this time again.

I don't make promises to anyone now. This is not a moment of self-actualisation and change. I will let you down. I will forget the important things I should remember. I will be cruel. I may vanish and not think of you and blithely do things that you think I should not.

I won't be sorry because I won't realise what.

I won't swear to be kind because it is more than likely that this moment, the throb, will vanish from my veins sometime soon and my good intentions will fade.

I cannot cut my brain from skull and these ideas and memories and half-formed notions of love I have for you or the little sparks that crackle with overwhelming happiness at the fact that you - you - are in the world cannot be extracted in order to for me to show you them.

But there will be moments that I'll never tell you about - moments where I will be still and think of you and the world will blossom with the possibilty of things I could do for you or for those you love. And maybe in some other life I will have done them.

An extract - the part of the fic, the words that provoked this and broke my heart. )
klena: (walk until the motion makes me strong)
what the fuck is this? Good Friday and now I feel like I'm carrying the guilt of the entirity of Catholic (n)Ireland in my chest?

i just wanted to do my degree - what is wrong with me? fuck i can't do this anymore

don't wanna drop out, can't make myself work. fuck. when did i become such a stupid fuck-up?

having breakfast with my girls today made me realise something too. 4 of us: one engaged, one pregnant, one graduating. what the fuck do i contribute? what the fuck am i doing with my fucking stupid life?
klena: (things we lost in the war)
This was going to be yet another emo-esq blog entry about me potentially having to leave university and my life and my housemate and money and not being able to work out when i was get to go home and how much i miss people and oh god, my friend's going to have a baby girl in about three months --

but it's not. Enough about me for a bit and how I have spent my night eating student food and watching Supernatural and faffing on the internet instead of working.

I've been awake so stupidly long becuase my sleepig schedule is messed up but for now, I am letting my introspection vanish with the dying dark (but maybe just for tonight).

Today (all days) are going to be about you, my list. This entry is for you. Vent in my comments about the injustices you are stuck with now, the little things you want to change, questions you have or a subject you want opinions on.

Let me know little things about you - the quirks that make you who you are and the little routines of your life. How do you take your tea/coffee? Do you have a specific way of arranging your music or your DVDs? What are you reading now? (what do you have on your shelf that you have been meaning to read for years?)

And indulge me and tell me a reason why you keep me on you list.
klena: (heed to your heart)
Six weeks since updating and no doubt this entry I start with good intentions will descend into a series of convoluted explanations and a dull chain of events (nowhere near as theraputic, except depending on where you stand)

I had to take off my watch to start typing this - what does that say about me?

Theoretically, the best way to do this would be to choose - find a point, fix myself to it (stick my courage to the sticking place but I cannot wash things away, just like she cannot remove the spots from her hands) and progress. Move forward and breathe. That's not the way this story goes; it's not who I am, I am a jumble of inadaquaces that I manage to conceal until I am actually needed in a tangible way.

I'm about to spill my innards before you all now; not just the pretty image of the heart glistening and vibrant with life, but the visceral content of my body and all the sick little truths that comprise this sad frame I call myself.

I am ill, currently. I have spent the last 3 days vomiting my guts up, having horrible nausea, migraines, fevers, cold sweats and miserable moods. There is nothing I hate more than nausea. I prefer to spill my guts out constantly for a day rather than to be nauseous for a week.

I had no heating for 5 days. I don't believe this helped this flu that I have been sensing for about a week now. So bad that I could see my breath before me a few nights, and that's not a metaphor.

I work. I work at Fab Cafe, a movie memorabilia bar, that I adore but i missed a shift to flyer tonight. Three strikes in less than 6 months, you're out? I imagine so.

There are debt collectors after me still. I don't know how to deal with them and I would rather sell a kidney than have to deal with debt problems ever again.

I have 9 piercings now. 3 in each ear, my nose, my lip (off to the side) and my tongue. My tongue hurt like a bitch and i hope i never have to take it out because i probably would not get it done again.

My dad had a health scare recently. Within the last 2 months, he started having chest pains that were causing his left side to go numb-ish. He went through a series of blood tests, ECGs and, finally, stayed in the hospital for 5 days worth of monitoring roughly 2 weeks ago. All I wanted was to be home even though I would have just been a wreck. They still haven't figured out what's wrong but it's not his heart - or not obviously his heart. He's massively cut down on his smoking and drinking and now goes for walks in the evening. I've been so scared for him - I haven't been able to shake the feeling under my skin that I was going to have to bury my father before I hit 25.

I began to cut myself off from a circle of people I started to care about because I felt I was losing them. Better to be the one to cut cord than to be the one hanging on. I am revising this plan of action but I don't actually think my initial knee-jerk fear was so wrong.

I haven't smoked since before Christmas, I haven't self-harmed in 4 months and I've changed my medication again. I keep starting over again - maybe one of these times I'll get it right.

Of my close circle of girls (there are a circle of 4 and numberous other singulars), one is engaged and another is expected a child. I am so scared, the world gets older everytime I close my eyes.

Bandom is still my closest addiction and fandom right now. Recently, I have been not worthy of note in any endeavour I set myself in, particularly my co-mod status in [livejournal.com profile] super_bandom but I've been working on my return.

In the past 2 weeks, I have spent nights in the library until midnight, studying and reading and enjoying being a student. I have forsaken all others, shaking off ties of friendship (arguably, and I am a contrary enough bitch to argue the point) in order to work on my degree. This has also lead to my return to writing and art and creation. It feels like some of my cells are being reborn. that is such a ridiculously pretentious English-student way of putting it, but it is the truth. I have missed it, like I miss my home or the feel of my mum's arms or a small scrap of paper/single 0001011010101010001 that comprise a message that read "i miss you, i think of you, where are you?"

My faith is a contentious issue at the best of times but this year I am taking part in Lent. I am giving up swearing and asking for sponsorship. Everyday I fail, I make up the money I should have made that day. At the end of Lent, I plan to donate my scrapings to the charity my mum has founded. There are, however, exceptions to my rule. Swearing in songs (mild, borderline inoffensive as I am going to see the Cobras and Fall Out Boy before the end) and during seminars where our poets swear (Swift, I am looking at you) and for fiction/RP purposes. Myself, as a person, an entity, shall not swear. So the theory goes.

I am single and lonely but "the best of us can find happiness in misery". I tasted the misfortune of trying something, knowing it was unlikely to work and i broke myself, twisted my heart into knots trying to not be such a "fuck-up" and allow this genuinely amazing guy into my life. He is still in my life, but as a friend. It's better this way. It doesn't stop the pain I felt during the period or the pain I feel I have caused him, but I believe that this is for the best.

My skin itches for a tattoo. "I Have Been All Things Unholy" "The fall shall further the flight in me", "I went under the sea. I have been dead, and yet am not alive, but let me rest still", "your halo better gleam", "never knew a part of you you didn't set in ink" and/or "heed to your heart, and not to your wit". I feel it under my skin.

I am a self-depreciating, pitying little fuck and I hate myself for it sometimes.

I am going home for Easter. I will be home for my dad's birthday, and will belatedly celebrate my brother's 21st.

I am moving house at the end of this year.

Recently my geekery has diversified. I have been reading comic books beyond Sandman. "The Umbrella Academy", "Runaways", "Fables", "Lucifer", "The Boys", "Y: The Last Man" and "Watchmen" are all recent geek readings. It has been amazing and I want to try to write a dissertation/thesis next year on graphic novels//comics as representations of modern literature. "Watchmen" will really fucking help me out there. Movie - 2 weeks!

Sunday nights, with the exception of the past Sunday, have been reserved for me and [livejournal.com profile] rogue_dreams to watch Supernatural.

[livejournal.com profile] rogue_dreams has probably saved my life in subtle ways since the start of this year. She is my soul twin, my non-girlfriend, my Supernatural-watching partner. We don't need to spend an inordinate amount of time in each other's presence but I love it when we do. She's snarky and a bit of a bitch but in an awesome, take-no-bollocks kind of way that I desperately have needed and funny and fangirlish and what I would be like if I were more talented and more driven. I am, and I rarely use words like these, blessed to have her in my life.

I miss those of you I know online but I cut myself off from lj for periods of time because I believe I deserve you lot. Hence why I vanish. I am usually guilting myself somewhere or working or studying.

I cannot sleep tonight. I'm sweating from this fever but I'm cold and can't get comfortable and can't sleep more than 3 hours. I feel jumbled and slightly lost and it's not just illness that is causing this but I'll blame it on that tomorrow.

"Think of us at all, if not as lost" - where is that from? Have I studied that? It's in my head and daylight is filtering in and I am going to have a shower because it is 7am and I want to try and sleep this migraine-headpain off.  
klena: (dry my eyes and keep on walking)
Thousands of things to say and a huge introspective journal entry coming but had to commit this to (it's not memory really, nor is it ink) little 0s and 1s before i forgot it in my haste to say other things that might not make much sense.

Before going back to my notes (and leaping from witchcraft to 17th Century political theorists to revenge tragedies) I want to get you involved with me for a little bit. Because I've been an absentee from this year and I feel like I'm drifting away on a tide (caught in riptide) and I want to know you. I love you already, but I want to know you better and I want you to know me better.

Anyway, behind all my Wentzian drabble, what I'm saying is this.

I am writing New Year (New Self) letters to anyone who wants them. You can just ask for one and I'll ramble about anything. You can ask me here questions you want me to answer about myself (things you feel you should know, who the fuck am I and why am I on your friendslist etc etc) and I'll write a response to you, and i'll ask about you and what i wish for you this coming year.

It might even be a fairytale.

Comments will be locked so no worry about people viewing things. Just....please get involved. Even if you've never left me a comment, even if you couldn't care less about this idea, it's always nice getting mail, right?
klena: (Default)
and all you see is where is you could be

dealing with the possibilities that will never happen and wondering why someone so similar to yourself gets chosen above yourself. the inabilty to be anything less than their mother, their support, their iron pillar when you are falling apart and wanting someone to stay with you that night, sleep beside you, hold you (not sexually because you know they don't feel like that for you)) and tell you that you'll be okay.

you struggle with the desire not to turn yourself inside out for them, not because they want you to, but because you wonder is maybe you do then maybe you'll be good enough.

simple words that cut to the core of your cells

there is no addiction strong enough for you - you are fated to pretend. in groups this is easier but when you are in a pair, you can't do it. Pretence fades and truth prevails, and o, how you curse it.
klena: (lost the light in everyone's eyes)

Oh how can it be, sweet mama tell me why
why all love's discipline's have to wither and die

Possibly the most pogniant, fucking awful and awesome song to hear just after finishing reading the next installment of the Unholy Verse by [livejournal.com profile] bexless: Staring Through The Demons. Anyone who spoke to me after I read the last one (I Have Been All Things Unholy) will know how much I flailed over it and was just ridiculously in love with it. So, due to my fucking wank week so far (little breakdowns that are more than just little and feeling lost and not wanting to speak/be/breathe) I've been reading it on and off.

However tonight I managed to sit down and read the last half of the fic (seriously, half of it) and I don't actually believe I've ever sobbed at a fic like that. Granted I had needed to sit and break and weep properly for a while but I was sitting, tears actually dripping onto my hands as I read the last quarter of the fic. And stopped at the end of it and just sobbed. Full on, head aching, chest hurting sobs.

I probably read sort of normally right now but I feel like I'm living in a state of emotional shock (thanks Julian) - a living dead doll. I'm not really here or there, i'm just....existing is not even a word for it at the minute. don't have the strength to sleep, to laugh, to work and dress up and study. it makes me feel like a doll with strings cut. Like Mikey at the end.

Something wouldn't leave my head yesterday

It's almost on the same level as a Shakespearean comedy: tales of love and fond deception except that those players can take their masks off - we can't because we are living it. There are no deus ex machinas for us, no chaotic last acts because that is not the way this great stage works. Standing to the side and painting-carving-pouring a facade onto your mask but it's too thin - too translucent to your own face so there is a sad truth to your face and no longer the easy smile. How sad that is.

klena: (can't help glancing back)
should really be asleep by now. miles to go before tomorrow ends (work included). spent today with the beautiful [livejournal.com profile] rogue_dreams and the rest of the NaNo crew until midnight, writing a pretty much new NaNo due to the last one being on non-working!Helena at the moment.

keep thinking about art: Lucasta and charlie's nano and bubble twins and panic demons and demolition lovers and kids of the umbrella academy and half-formed fanarts. plus my tattoo.

i read the sleeve notes to "A Fever You Can't Sweat Out" and besides making my heart clench (Ryan Ross, i adore you. never change) i realised i was mishearing a lot of the lines. damn. how is it i can understand GeeWay perfectly but Bden Urie and PStumph, it does not happen with?

song lyrics you love. quotes you adore. sayings you love. things you associate with me. help a girl out please

also: any music you can pimp out to me would be ♥

thanks for the memories - he tastes like you only sweeter
klena: (been walking in the same I always do)
playing second fiddle and dreaming of the first (eying it longingly, try to swallow the acidic tang of disappointment when you are passed over again and swear over and over you'll take your eyes off it) (liar, you never will). Sit in your seat, play the music laid before you (sometimes the notes don't make sense and the pages feel like they're in the wrong order and you scramble to right it) and focus.

Pour yourself into playing - ferocious and trembling and with wild abandonment. Laugh as other remark on your spirit (fingering like a concert pianist, bowing like its your soul) and make some flippant throwaway remark on how you would hate the pressure of the spotlight.

but you itch for it and you want to reach for it - you can taste the glory of it on your tongue and it's like the sweetest nectar

But secretly you scream for it, every little flourish, every trill, every double-bow is orchestrated - crying out "look at me, please choose me, look at me, look what i can do", wanting the light so badly but making yourself comfy in the dimmer light.

second violin is close enough to first, you suppose as you straighten your back, lift your instrument up and glide over the first notes, and maybe the melody will be enough for a while...
klena: (summer of like)
Let's make our way through the list i need to update on, shall we?


Those not in the know! For the past few years, I have sort of half-heartedly been taking part in [livejournal.com profile] kacfrog711's epicly awesome idea of Dark!Art October. What the principle is, is that for every day of October a piece of dark/twisted/morbid/hallwe'en-eque themed art is produced, occasionally prompted by friends.

This year I am adding a part of a twist to the idea. There are something like 87 of you on my mutual friends list, which means more than enough of you for at least one prompt a day. This year, due to my tendency to spend LIFETIMES on artwork, I'm also including fics in Dark!Art.

You know my fandoms! Request a day, a fandom, character and a prompt for the piece. All underneath the cut!

Even if you've never prompted, i want you to get on this! This is my srsbznz face >(

i am the wind blowing through your hair )

2. I have signed up for NaNoWriMo this year with the beautiful [livejournal.com profile] rogue_dreams and we are planning to get each other very drunk to get through it support and encourage each other over the course of the month. We are also going to get t-shirts printed. There may be talking bottles of rum on there.

3. University is still not sort.
University funding is still not sorted.
I have registered for module though and applied for a job. More details about this massive cock-up to potentially come tomorrow.

4. Even though you adore someone, sometimes you just want to lock yourself in the attic, am i right?

5. once you stumble, Septimus wrote on the back of a postcard, human nature is on you.

I leant over the edge of the boat and fell down, he thought. I went under the sea. I have bee dead, and yet am not alive, but let me rest still, he begged

6. BY SHEER AWESOMENESS I MANAGED TO GET TICKETS TO SEE THE ACADEMY IS... AT VERY LAST MINUTE. EXPECT FLAIL POST AND PHOTOS TOMORROW. [livejournal.com profile] sekkritbandomlj, this is an advanced warning to not look! :D

7. i really need to go to bed now

8. fucking cutist icon ever why do i not use it more?
klena: (you are my sweetest downfall)
fandom birthday and right now i'm so far behind i think the idea will last forever. hard to justify sitting down to write, to draw, to create when outside the closed door (a barrier in it's own right) tension vibrates, heavy and breath-catching like the string of a violin plucked in an empty auditorium, the note ringing off the walls and the air and the metal of the strings. The tension is like that but without the beauty of sound. I need the noise otherwise the tension tightens in my chest, like screwing my courage to the sticking place, like adjusting an out on tune guitar string.

what do you do with this tension? I cannot ignore it, i can't when i feel it shaving my skin. I try to sooth it with a frantic melody, obnoxious and maybe not the most melodic but an attempt at such.

maybe i'll just lie back and play my own melody for a while
klena: (dead as dead can be the doctor tells me)
still ill. was at doctor and he's given me two weeks off work. isn't stopping me from going in tonight though. i promised. hate getting blood taken - almost pass out or be sick everytime. fail.

two weeks off people! prompt me to keep me sane :(

kitten is apparently fascinated by the appearance of words in the blog entry. stop trying to bat the words away, i can't see what i'm typing.

photos of kitten and madness to come later tonight(?) tomorrow (?)

henceforth this icon shall be known as my ill-icon. because Lisa is hot, even when dying. and y'know the blood and stuff. make the links, etc.
klena: (try to stay upright)
it's like a circus. every day the ring leader changes (or, sometimes, there is more than one ring leader which means the players do not know what to do or who to follow. Some follow their own path, weaving and acting and tumbling on their own paths) - every day the audience is different. Some don't want to be there but the majority do. Some look down on the clowns, the performers, the costumes. must be too stupid to do anything but work in this circus but we're not. Underneath our costumes and face-paint we are people and we are smart and we make each other laugh and we survive every day. Doesn't that deserve a round of applause? Hand over your coins and we'll give you a show; welcome ladies and gentlemen to the comedy of our lives, but stay for the tragedy. It's worth every second of it. Sometimes we may stumble over our acts and somedays the clowns, the marionettes, the animals might change roles. We are clowns one day with plastered grins on our faces, the next day we are the ringleader, directing and holding the fragic fabric of the marquis together with our solidity. Maybe tomorrow we will be the acrobats and soar about the audience and make them beam and gasp with joy? Or maybe we will be the animals, doing tricks and scaring the watchers, making them twist into each other's sides and laughing with relief, clapping appreciatively. Give the kids a show - twist your face into the mockery of a smile they've come to see - dance the steps like it's all you're meant to do.

come see our show and when you leave, remember to thank god you aren't one of us.
klena: (her colour bleached by blood)
I came home from work feeling calm and soft and felt the warm pleasant buzz of happiness at being with an ex and sharing familiar touches that mean nothing but familiar and gentle.

We drove into our estate and this black cat was twisting and writhing in the air like it was being bitten by bugs or was a puppet being yanked in a bunch or directions. My dad and I laughed because it was a stupid sight - it was funny. We drove closer and saw that cat had been hit. Dad parked the car at the house and I got out, told him I was going over. He said "There's no point, the cat's going to die soon" but I just said little snatches of phrases that meant nothing but he understood.

I walked over to it and knelt down and stroked it's fur and it was dead. It was obviously someone's pet and the car that hit it (the carthatpassedusaswepulledinhome) didn't even stop. Oh God, my heart. And dad came outside after about 2 minutes and i came back in (because it was dead and there was shiny bright blood on the tarmac and one of it's eyes was out and blood on it's nose oh god). Dad told me mum had sent him to bring me back in. She told me to wash my hands and I did and I curled into her arms and cried.

Funny how your mood is destroyed.

That wasn't even 30 minutes ago.
klena: (just for the attention)
The more things change, the more they stay the same. Never got excited about promises because you never came through on any other ones. Dull taste in my mouth like distant acidic heartbreak but no ache echoing in my chest. Old scar tissue I opened and happily rubbed salt into the unhealed jagged edges but the pain is one I prepared myself for. There is no ache, just the residual taste of first love that never developed.

Memories of the drumbeats you tapped into my back that sunk into my skin and into my blood that night and i felt as though i could feel them course in my body and the beats were the pulsing music and the energy of the people around us and the thrumming electric joy of being together. I was happy then and so were you. But those are all they are now; memories. Times has changed.

remember when i was a bird and you were a map
klena: (first step to knowledge)
I am desperately in love with this song an awful lot right now. I'm guessing it's because it reminds me of wandering and being in awe of the world changing around you and people mistaking your awe for being lost (which awe and the sudden rush of emotion in your chest can be like - being lost and not having a solid grip on yourself but at that moment that's okay, you're happy with that) and the world changes. The world changes and maybe you are a little lost sometimes but that doesn't matter because you can always find your way back and your hometown is always there.

Two of my days off have fallen in a row which is awesome and wonderful and I've been awake for 3 hours now (thanks to the howling wind and the pouring rain and my head being cleaved in two and Matt texting me because Gerard wanted to know if I wanted a wee shift today) and i feel all dizzy and blurrysmudged at the edges because we had no ordinary painkillers and i took some of mum's which are, like, horse tranquilisers or something. Strange!

I got a letter from Jules today. Jules, for those not in the know, is one of My Girls who was studying abroad for the year in Guelph in Canada and got home on Thursday. June and I surprised her after we finished our respective shifts on Saturday and sat in her house from 6pm until midnight. MIDNIGHT. just gossiping.

Lying between two of your favourite people and feeling good in your own skin - unafraid to give voice to the things lingering beneath your skin-mask and laughing like you've never done anything else. It's like perfection.

We're all trying to meet up for dinner tonight. Which is what I am going to organise after I post this.

I am also seriously considering writing The Highwayman!bandom fic for [livejournal.com profile] sekkritbandomlj because it sounds AWESOME even if The Highwayman ends sadly.

I am bringing this up again because I am going to be moving into a house in a few months and I am already considering the decorating. My Photo Wall. For those who didn't know, I used to have a massive photo wall in my bedroom here in N.I before I went to uni and I also created on when I went to uni. (and i actually went and looked up the photos for you)

plastering your heart and your life to the concrete wall for the world to see )

except obviously i am going to want to redo the wall for my new house in Leeds. I want you in my new house (and it is a house - can't be a home yet, not there, haven't chosen it and we haven't put our hearts there yet) on my walls. So....who's interested in sending me photos? Or even your own photography ([livejournal.com profile] littleredfox and [livejournal.com profile] sarshin i am particularly looking at you here). I would love it if you would reply here? Please?

So my voice post seems to have gone down well! And I was thinking that I get 20 free voice posts a month which i don't want to really waste. SO! If people are interested, I will ring in LJ posts and talk. Suggest a topic you want to hear my thoughts on - want me to read one of your fics/one of my own - want me to sing? (you'll be lucky). Ask away! I am happy to whore myself out for you lot ♥

Right. I am sitting here looking like a scruffy gangster because my hair dried strangely overnight. Luv curly hair. So i am going to get dressed and start being productive....possibly.

Suggestions people~!

And now. Strange dream

aching as you wake and realise that you've slept your life away in the most perfect dream you could have but now it's over and you are awake and bereft )


klena: (Default)

April 2017

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