I didn't go friendsonly. I just stopped posting.
I know no one (in their right mind) will be reading this anymore, but that's okay. I'm alright with it. I just need somewhere to vent. And to write. And to be myself, somewhat.
I'm starting NaNoWriMo tomorrow. I'm afraid I'm not up to it.
I'm afraid of a lot of things right now.
I hope everyone out there in cyberspace is doing well, whether they read this or not.
I hope to god I'm not completely insane.
I hope tomorrow is a sunny day.
I love you. Know that. This decision is not based on you as a person or a community. It's not you, it's me.
Somewhere along the line, this journal has changed from a private one to quite a public one. Due to several reasons, I'm transforming it back to a private one.
I'm not ashamed of you, livejournal, really I'm not. Don't be like that, sweetheart. I'm not walking away. I'm simply closing the curtains so peple can't perve on us in the shower any more.
I still adore you. It's just that... well... my real life doesn't. And despite the fact that you and I have been together for some years now, real life has to be my priority from now on. Please don't cry. We'll still have each other, we'll just have to make it our special little secret.
As of tomorrow, this will be friends only (that means, Ally, that you'll have to get a livejournal to read it. I know, I suck).
Livejournal, our precious love will live on forever.
Faithfully (and secretly) yours,
My friend Nadia asked me to write something real in here. She's right - I post rarely and when I do, it's either photos or crap (and unfortunately the two are not always mutually exclusive).
So here we are. I have 10 minutes to spare and so I'll write something small (but real).
It's my birthday today.
I was dreading it.
I'm not a birthday scrooge. I'm not concerned about getting older - the further I get from my teens, the happier I get! I love birthdays and make a big deal of everyone's - I think that the ONE day of the year that belongs to you and celebrates you is a really important thing to recognise. That being said, I had a really bad birthday last year - for lots of different reasons - that ended with me pretty much crying myself to sleep, alone. It was a really unhappy, depressing day and one that still makes me wince whenever I think about it. So when everyone started saying, "It's your birthday soon, ooooohOOHOHooooo, are you excited?" this year, the most I could muster up was a shrug and a weak "Mmmhmmm!" My hopes were not raised when a workmate cancelled on special birthday drinks last night.
But it's actually been a pretty nice day so far, despite the fact that I'm working for 11 hours. My cousins gave me a pair of really cute flannel cow-print jammies, and my aunt made my favourite food ever for breakfast. My parents remembered, which is a pretty good effort, and my boyfriend has dinner reservations for tonight. Last year his gift was a dvd - while nice, a little impersonal, admittedly - and this year he vowed to make up for what he now calls "pathetic excuse for a present", so that's promising. I have a lunch date in the park. Lots of my workmates remembered, I've had messages and phonecalls from friends, the weather is sunny and the birds are singing.
Birthdays are looking up. It's a good day. I'm happy. And that, for once, is something real.
I'll blow your mind, I am... I'm a revolution.
Big things are happening. I'm exploding, I'm combusting, I'm reaching out and grabbing every goddamn beautiful thing in this world and layering it, piece upon piece, inside my bitten fingers. I'm cool, I'm calm, I'm so collected I could scream out for pure joy.
Everything is gorgeous, everything is torturous, and more than ever I know that everything stands on a knife's edge.
I just bought another camera on ebay... a classic German Adox Golf63 120mm. While very pretty to look at, and doubtless a bit of a collector's item, I'm not sure what I was thinking.
Credit card be damned! Art is life!
I forgot the internet existed. I'm home!
And oooh, eyeing up concert tickets for my favourite guilty pleasure - Westlife. Ooooh, sexy boys. Come to
(I feel adolescent fangirling coming on in extreme proportions :D and oi, lay off the defriending, will ya? A girl's gotta feel 13 somehow.)
Australia rules, btw. I've never been happier to see magpie shit on my car.