Translation: Plus a walk and talk extrordianair!

Here for those who don't quite know who i am talking about, a Translation:

the Dragon - My over-bearing mother, whom i do not get along with at all. She seems to have taken the roll of making my life completly miserable. Lucky me :

Suicide Blonde - My alter-ego. The depressive me that surfaces once in a while and makes me seem like a complete wack-job on here, with my 'slit my wrists' blogs.

Green - Also goes by the name of Petey, Bucko, Bruce, and many more. Just another name for Him. The Beau. My perfectly pouncable piece slash chunk of slam dunkin' hunk. My BoyFriend.

An ordinary day in the life of a Tea-Bag:

So, im just sitting there with my chums, right. And we can't see a damn thing 'cos you know we got that lid to keep us fresh and then i see............

The light.

This pink flesh-y thing comes right at us, these long podgy tentacals reach in to our bangin' pad and grabs me and Steve by the leaves and edges. The cheek! so, im thinking right lets see what actually happened to Sally. The prospects wern't good. You see there was this jacuzi. Oh man you should-ah seen it, but then again maybe you shouldn't. Steaming it was! Then i hear Steves Leaves rustle and he's wriggled free somehow, and im flying solo.

Into this jacuzi, which wasn't a jacuzi at all! The bloody fiends! They only went and made it look like a Butlins holiday camp for us! Boiling hot it was! Not only that.. but.....they...oh i can't bear to repeat it. It was just too horrifying.....

The got this shiny thing and drowned me in the hot water then got me right up against the wall they did! All up in ma grill! Then picked me up and droped me in the pile of all the other things they just used.

Thats how i feel.

USED

I don't know where i am. But boy, it's lonely on this heap. Help? Anyone?

The test of my HEART

I don't want him to get freaked out. That is why i vent all my girlie anguish and desire upon my blog. We are so new that i dont want to fuck things up. He whom i shall call Green, i believe has been sent down on a space-ship, buzz-ed his little toosh on down to earth and fell into a hibiscus plant. From there he sung a sweet song that lured me to this flower and its sweet aroma. As this flower opens i see more off him and piece by piece he flutters into my heart. He has battled with the Dragon, and the brain-teaser too and yesterday he passed the endurance test of the beep, so now he resides to conquer the lock on my heart.

We haven't actually united our bodies, i have chosen him to be the one to land Martian probe on planet Venus. I am scared that once we do touch each others souls, that we will either like magnets attract or repel. Both of which will break my heart. I am so ready for him to land on planet Venus that i can reach out and touch the balloon between us and i want to physically throw it away, pop it. See this is why i feel i can't tell him this. Because i am so weird. He puts up with my weird-ness but i wonder how much he can take. Especially when it's on this topic.

Now for topic mum thunder. . . .

I want to crawl into Green's arms and hibernate until she is dormant once more. The eruptions that continuously spew onto me are horrendous these days. I will never be good enough for her because i am too alike her. As much as it pains me to say these dreaded words. But i am different in so many ways we are almost adopted.

Back to the splinter in my paw. . . .

Love. I don't want to be in this situation, i did, but now i wish all i got was fun because, at the moment there is a distance between us but soon, there will be a light-years of roads between us. And we are so new that i don't quite know yet if Donne's theory of the compass will apply to us. Will the united nations of our souls carry our love for us? Will he want it too? Or will i? I know i know this is so teenage drama but none-the-less it is what is pacing through my sex-driven mind. That too! How will i cope without the growl of his kisses on either side of my lips. Or the electricity of his finger-tips?

I don't want this wave to end, and i don't want to fall of my board but as the midday sun rises i can see that my wings will burn and my grip will loosen. I don't want to be paranoid. I don't want to hold him back either. However much it would pain me his smile is worth a hundred suns more.

Get a grip Woman!

.......and so the Summer begins. Here i am, bikini in hand and him in the other. The sun in on the end of a string and im taking it where ever i go. I want this to last. I want this to be the best.

No what if's. No regrets. No should-ah's, would-ah's or could-ah's. This is my time.

almost dreamlike when i fell your tribal drum next to my hummingbird flutter.

Here i am,

in an origami house of paper, dreading the rain but longing for the freshness of the downpour. littering the floor are my tissue roses, the house is getting too crowded for me because im growing rapidly. I can see the pink sky outside marking the evening. The fairy light stars blink at me in a lethargic manner as if enticing me to sleep, but i can't.

There is a balloon in my stomach that feels that its expanding by the moment.

Theres a hummingbird in my chest thats drumming against my rib cage and silence in my head.

No little girl screaming, no little girl dying, just silence, making room for the Indian drum pattern made by the birds in my heart. My feet are green, a fresh garden green with little red flowers weaving up around my ankles, when i walk there is a swoosh. My legs are bare and my pelvis also. Hanging around my neck in a relaxed manner is necklace of flowers, meeting with my hair and reaching my crown with a halo of daisies. My blonde hair cascades in loose waves making my body the perfect house for a family of fairies to live. Dancing in the wallow of the moon under the fuchsia marshmellow sky's natural light bulbs. Leaping into the air with a weightless bounce i fall into the light brown arms of a man who has changed me. For the better i am now walking with open eyes, now they are open i see him and who i am when i am with him not only has evolved but who i am because of him. I am but the same, but i can now see the attributes. And when we are as close as lipstick, when our breath is one, and

i want you beside me

i feel the tribal bass next to my hummingbird's flutter, i see this fuchsia sky and remember who i am. Who i want to be. Who i can be.

a good old walk and talk. deep

There they go again, each colour representing a different aspect of my life that has been run of the rails. The strings that i held my balloons with has been cut, and as i stand here on the ground i watch them loose control in the wind. The blue - my depression. All this pent up hurt balled up into a fist of tears. The green - my happiness. All the things that make me smile and set me free with contentment. The yellow - my inhibitions. Dancing in the air, leaping forwards and swaying in beat with the gushes of wind. The orange - my soul. My fiery passion for exceeding and breaking expectations, the engine behind my wild, wily ways. And last but not least, the red - my love. I see this balloon on its own on the horizon, slowly falling to the ground, the life in my red balloon is seeping out from the hole that cupids' arrow made.

One, two, three, four, my feet are rooted to the floor.
Five, six, seven, eight, i'm rooted with my evil hate.

Sitting on the grass, crossing my arms and legs i cry and say goodbye to my balloons. I wish i gave them the space and freedom they needed, because maybe when they did go i wouldn't have felt so helpless and useless and so feeble. Accepting my mistakes and embracing the errors of my ways, the wind stops blowing, the trees fall silent and my feet dangle limp and life-less beneath me as i am raised up. Beneath me floats a cloud to sit on and one by one my balloons come back to me. I hold their strings in my hands but feel a slight disappointment. I feel compelled to let them go. Up and away i watch them fly, even little red musters the courage to swim.

In the spur of the moment i take from my pocket my pouch of marbles. From the cloud i open the pouch and drop the colourful cat eyes to the ground and close my eyes. A feeling of weightless-ness drifts over me and i close my eyes mistaking it for tiredness. one minute, two minute's, three minute's pass before i open my eyes again. The suns arms are hugging me and i awake from my dream.

..along the coast of my dreams..

''A true love story never ends'' - Is this true? Can it be that if i have met my true love he will jump back into my life? Would i notice if he walked into my life for the first time? Because i am sure, i a mean i am damn sure, that i havent met him yet. I can't have! None of them men in my short life have, well ok there has been one that has swept me off my feet, and there has been on who makes me feel totally comfortable with myself but none that stick around. Its annoying because i still feel it.

WELL SAY GOODBYE. It's time to say goodbye to all this crap about heartache. I am giving up my heart for a while. Putting it in a box, locking it in a hotel room on route 66. I need time to heal and to live. I'm going to stick my life into reverse to the time where i was at my peek, happy, hyper, hippy, and ready to party 24/7 baby, then drive in a banged up pick up or a mustang along the coast of my dreams.

A DREAMER. That's what i'm born to be and a life i am born to live. Dreaming.

The opinionated girls' opinion of Love....

If i were to write a book i would call it ''curiosity killed Casper''. Simply because that phrase sums my life up. It was the phrase that begun my writing, that began my cyber life, that begun me. [Woah i just had a dizzy spell, i swayed on my swirly computer chair. Well that was weird.] So yeah, im going to write a book, and i think i should write it all about love because i have so much experience in it and yet no understanding at all. How funny life can be sometimes. The way that my eyes work is that what i see is what i get, however i still seem to be looking into things way to deeply. Reading into the tinniest detail is i think the part where i go wrong. I have no doubt that i am not the only one that does this. I know that in your chairs you are sitting in, you are nodding along with me. If your not then you must be pretty lucky. Do you feel lucky? No ? Maybe you are lying to yourself? Hm ?

The women of today are too obsessed with finding the perfect man to settle and mate with that they are screwing up their own minds. I am not saying that i don't do this, i am probably the worst at it. I know what i want, and that my darlings is where i go wrong, every time.

Forever dreaming of a perfect love, eyes meeting across the room, a fantasy man, whom i picture to adore my every mole. Sometimes i think that reading has captured my imagination and that im still living in a book, the girl who lives alone wandering aimlessly till her prince charming rescues her from her own mind. Ha. Laughable i know. Who knows? Maybe i have met him and he has past me by as i have him. I guess i'll never know until cupid aims his damn arrow towards my butt. Or until i get bitten by that damn bug that has nested in my school and is infesting my friends around me. Immunity to a disease everyone else has, makes you feel kinda lonely. One more thing for you to be singled out from. One more thing that makes you different from everyone else.

God knows im not alone, i mean i know i sound like a sad sack and there are girls out there who are reading my blog/book thinking ''heck your not the only girl !!''. I know and i do acknowledge you all. For we are all sitting in the same over weighed sinking boat. Im just another girl waiting for a star to fall into her hands.

I believe that there is a match for us out there. Someone that makes us feel like our hair on our necks is standing up, that we feel we are perfectly, blissfully complete with. Someone that can change a shitty day into an great day just because they smiled at you. Someone that loves you back, despite everything and anything because in the end your life is theirs and theirs is yours. Who would have thought a rude, obnoxious, arrogant, stubborn girl like me could be such an old romantic? Well the old romantics do say [and when i say old romantics i mean me], ''love fools everyone but nothing fools love.'' Because you will know it. When that times comes for you to understand that you are made for each other you will know it. And when that day comes for me, i will know what to do, because it will feel like everyday is as naturally beautiful as it is when i am with him.

Tonight i will dream of the man that will change my life, and tomorrow i will wake up again feeling lonely and empty once more. And still hopelessly hopeful.

Would

If you saw through my eyes Lord would you see the way i see
Or would you see simply your way?
If you could see through my eyes would your sight be hazed with jealousy?
Would you see red upon the things i disagree with?
Or would you see with all perfect clear-ness?

If you smelt through my nose Lord would you pick out the things i smell?
Or would you Simply smell the way you do?
Would you be drawn to the fresh cut grass as i am?
Would you Pick up the smell of fresh air?
Or would you smell everything?

If you felt with my touch Lord would you feel the same as i?
Or would you feel the greatness of everything?
Would you love the touch of heat from another person?
Would you love the feel of fresh cut prickly grass?
Would you love the trickle of sand through your finger tips?
Or would you feel everything as great as each other?

If you taste with my tongue Lord would it taste the same to i?
Or would you reach for different things?
Would you decline a plate of seafood?
Would you gorge a chocolate bar?
Or would every thing taste wonderful to you.

If you hear through my ears Lord, Would you hear the same as i?
Or would you hear angels for everything?
Would you love the sound of a babies laugh?
Would you hear solitude when listening to Yiruma?
Or would everything sound wonderful to you.

As you have created all. I am posed with these questions i wonder about what you see when you look through my eyes. Do you see the computer screen or do you see the soul i put into my writing? Is there anyone really there that i am talking to or is it once again a rouge for me to talk to myself once more.

Many Moons ago.

The sky is meant to be held up with pin tack stars. However when i looked up last night i saw that the stars were replaced with no nails aeroplanes. Which isn't how the blanket of darkness is meant to be. The lightbulb moon, shines through as normal but there are meant to be the pin tack stars to hold it up, shining through, they dont move, they stay there, they are reliable. They hardly ever move. No nails aeroplanes scoot arouns all nigth replaceing the mellow dull yellow glow of the pin tack stars with a pulsing red/blue, red/blue light.

Whilst i was looking up at the light bulb moon last night i did indeed notice how brightly it was shinning! it was almost blinding. But i couldnt look away. It was as if i was having a staring contest with the man in the moon. If i dont move he wont move and on and on. It odd how lonely the moon looked with out his baby stars planted around him. He looked lost in a field of marshmellow.

Im lonely. and have no idea on how i am to stop it all.

Alright. So here i am.

I feel so lonely right now that it has affected my temperature.

I feel cold.

Its not nice.

Its as if im only half here.

As if the other half is residing with Grandadio.

Making sure he is not too lonely.

As he lies in bed.

Soaked in pain.

I feel sick to the stomache to think that this will make him better.

Its a crying shame that it wont.

It will make him worse.

Whats the point i say?

Prolonging his life, but making it uncomfortable.

Where is the justice that he should live his last months like this?

Where ungrateful men walk around care free with no health problems at all.

And im sitting here in pyjamas wrapping my arms around myself.

Trying to hold myself together.

So that when he comes out, i will be whole enough for all of us who arnt.

Then theres Jasmin.

How will she cope?

How can i help her though this?

How can i make it all better?

What can i do?

Its all going wrong and i cant stop this winding fall that we are all facing.

Show me the way God.

Show me what i need to do.

Smoking Kills

The smell lingers on me. I cant seem to shake it off. That poignant smell of cigarette smoke clinging to my skin and hair and clothes and nails and eyelids and lips and everything. Its suffocating me, wrapping itself around me as a constant reminder of what has taken away half of my family and has more captured in its wrath, under its thumb. I will never escape the devastation's that it has causes. That grey tar that clogs the lungs and slowly kills its victims from the inside out.

No one who accepts readily the challenges that smoking invites understands, they haven't watched their family fall apart one by one through this, that smoking not only kills the person inviting the clouds of darkness down their throats, but also kills a part of those left walking the earth. Me. After years of inviting puff the magic dragon down into your lair you will die. No matter what you say. You WILL die. Why cause it to come sooner? I ask you this.

Thinking of the casualties that smoking causes, i wonder who the hell would invent such a thing? Why would you bring forth such a thing that tears hearts and families apart? That kills the body that God gave us to cherish and worship. I pity you who has no respect, because respect build a person into a better person.

And after ranting i breath a deep breath in and i am once again reminded of that smell that is clinging to me. I want to shrug it of me, scrub so hard until no reminance resides on my skin. And reminds me of the graves that are full and the ones that are dug freshly awaiting my brother and my sister and my brother in law and my aunty and my uncle and .. and .. and .. my grandad..ready to be reunighted with my nan.

I had a bad day

Today i am having a bad day.

):

But i'm not the only one.

Someone i care about alot is haveing a very rough time at the moment and i can nothing at all to help him.

Chemo sounds like the pitts.

My Grandadio started today.

It doesnt sound much like a bunch of roses i must say.

Then again roses always did smell like poo-oo-oo-o.

):

I watched the film my sisters keeper with my sister the other week.

It was about a girl who had leukemia.

And had to undergo Chemo.

The effects were too real, it was sad.

And now i am sad.

):

I hurt my finger as well.

Its not been a very good day.

):

I also found out today, that that bag i loved o so much, was infact fake.

I will never trust chinese men again.

I thought he looked a tad fishy.

):

I was listening to my ipod today.

And the band [im not sure whether to call it a band or not but i will for now]

Hillsong came up.

Its a christian group of youngsters that praise God.

And i felt all the hairs on me raise, and a warm feeling,

like protection,

washed over me.

I want my grandadio to feel that.

All i need now is to find out how.

):

What a day.

Forget her

Forget her. That girl with the suicide blonde hair and the eyes that spelt pain. A blue that continued for eternity spinning in spirals mapping out her journey home.

Forget her. Almost as soon as it was on it was off, like someone with a romote flicking through the channels to find the best to suit the mood. That girl didn't suit your mood. She will always wonder in the wrong direction, so theres no point in chasing after a whisp of air.

Forget her. She minds, i can tell you this, she doesnt want to be forgoten but this is her destiny. To lead away from the trouble she has caused.

Forget her.

Me. Back in the act.

Here i am, falling into the same old routine.

Where im a rabbit caught in the headlights, but yet i am repulsed at the fact that i wont run.

I am a coward.

Several times i have been caught like this.

I wont be caught again, i vowed.

But no.

No.

No.

No.

I slip easily into old habbits.

Walkig straight into y old shoes i find or am found but another mistake.

Another bannished.

Knock-kneed i sit here typing on the laptop.

My hair messy and wild.

Wearing my space jam t-shirt and knickers.

Smudged mascara.

Chipped nail varnish.

Me.

Back to the same old routine.

Me.

But have i found a cure??

Being a slut, finding new guys to plug that hole.

To plug up the howling of the wind from that gapeing dark void, when my heart was stolen from.

Me.

Curiosity Killed me. Once more.

This is absurd !!! I hate how someone still has the power to bring you down even when they are the one that left you. I though i had a hold on this feeling, i thought that i had it all bottled up the lid shut tight so no one could get in and nothing could get out but once again my powers are stunted when i am faced with curiosity i take a bite and i am sick, sick all over my new Prada bag over my Stella mcCarteney dress. what ever you want to compare happiness to i was sick all over that too. Thats what this feels like. After all that hard work i have ruined everything once again because i was curious!! After all that is what will kill me, why not get in some practice now eh ?

Theres no light bulb on behind my eyes anymore.

This is so damn confusing! I am most definitely still in love with Coliflower. That is a fact. But i feel like i have feelings for Broccoli too, granted not as strong. No where near as strong. But how can i harbour feelings for Broccoli whilst i am still in this state? Its annoying because at a moment like this where i have to sit in a room which i once shared lustful glances across with Coliflower my feelings for Broccoli are overpowered, they seem so minimal that they almost dont exist. As if i will never feel like this for anyone else ever again. I mean ive been like this for over 5 months now, you would have thought that would have been long enough, but oh no. Why cant i move on? Why cant i get over it? Its like it will never end. Like no other feeling with match or measure up to this. And it pains me to say but its true, any feelings i have for Broccoli are overpowered by those of Coliflower. Its an endless circle.

I feel like a monster because, looking back on it i have been leasing Broccoli on, as if i could leave everything behind me and take that place once more. It feels like my life is a Nintendo game, where i cannot move up a level unless i complete each task or have seen every clip, its as if i have to do my very own tick list before i can finally get over him.

Im kinda empty. Im no angel that you can hold on to and float up to the sky with oh no. Im empty, a shell, now theres no light bulb lit up behind my eyes. Ill never be able to love somebody again with this much force, its left a mark upon me. I put everything in to this love with out even realising, and the worst part it i tried to prepare myself for this, i new it had to end soon and yet i still ended up like this. I just didnt want to believe it.

Now i have nothing left to give. Im sorry.

country laze, sunny daze.

She walked along the road with her school bag slung over her shoulder as she struggled with her new gigantic art folder. To the side of the road her sight was diverted to a mushroom circle of poppies. Bending over to pick one up, her folder bent and slipped from her grasp. This is when she decided to talk a gander off route home.
Along the side of the golf course the grass grew high, high enough to engulf her knees and lower. Randomly to the edge of the course a long knobly log was drawn up to mark the edge. Slinging her folder to the floor, where the grass was freshly cut to keep up appearences. You could still smell the fresh spiring smell that wafts over after a cut. She reached in to her bag for her bottle of water and takes a swig. She felt for the flower blazeing contrast in her mass of blonde loose curls that she had put for safe keeping, leaving the lid to her water she popped the poppy in with the head poking out.
Lying face down with her head leaning to the side against her arms she watched the ant walk up and down her arm dazily in circles as if on drugs.
A cheer from a putt in one woke her from her country laze, more like sunny daze. Swiftly she heaped her belongings and set off for home.

What would you do ?

I've never had to think of today being my last day, however reading this book i have stumbled across this topic. What would i miss the most, or who, more importantly? What would you do if you found out that this was your last day on earth? Last chance to walk bare foot across the grass. Taste the chocolate linger on your tongue after that chocolate bar that you consumed so fast that you dont even notice. Would you tell the people who meant the most, how much you loved them. Tell them that its your last day, or simple let them know you love, loved and will always love them.

From the way i interpret life, you only get one, so live it as if its your last day. Leave behind no what if's with your footprints in the sand that will soon be washed away with the tide. If i knew, heaven forbid that i were today this time tomorow, i dont know how i would react. No one does. But i know that i would not let fear swim in my veins and do the unimaginable. I would walk up to the one regret that hosts a seed of doubt in my mind and tell him the insides and outs of my heart. Selfish i know to think of tht at a time like that but hey i cant help it.

I saw the poppies growing and springing up everywhere on the way home, but i didnt automatically think of bloodshed that we are brainwashed to do at school. I thought of how beautiful they were. Are. How something so pretty can be linked with something so unGodly is beyond me. Most things are, but i was born to question, as we all are. I looked up to the sky and then down to my hands. I placed my hands upon the walls that make my house. Everything has material worth. I want to be one of those poppies blowing in the wind signifing somemthing. They are important, because no matter what they link back to the dead, and then the soldiers are remebered. I wonder if there is something for every dead person, something i mean that reminds the living of them. I hope there is. For me i would hope it would be clouds, because i see my self as a cloud i guess, forever drifting like the tide.

Memories are like streams of thoughts, they pop up everywhere. But they hurt, alot. They can make you laugh so much you actually pee yourself, or your stomache hurts real bad. If today was my last day, i would have called up all my family, take a camera and go to the field and wait for them to turn up an hour late. Time for me to look at the world. The trees, the flowers the bees, the birds, the litter, the ineveitable litter cast in the gutters and ocacionally strewn in the flower beds. Then they would turn up and i would tell each and everyone how much i love them, without them knowing the truth, and have a good old knees up, record the whole day on camera. I want to be remebered. For the good. I dont want people to think of all the selfish things i have done, said or thought. And that in itself is a selfish thing.

If i could miss something when i go i dont know what i would miss the most, surprising my dad with a cuppa tea whilst he is working and see his smile. Hugging him and feel his akwardness but knowing that he still loves me. Reading my book in the prescence of my closest and dearest most treasured friend whilst she is on her laptop, feelilgn so comfortable knowing she is there 3 metres away yet so close to my heart i could burst. The Christmas mornings when both my brother and sister lived with me and we would cuddle together in one of our beds and open our stockings together, them knowing what i got and smiling at my belief in Santa. Shoutinng with my mum at how im not a kid anymore yet both of us knowing this argument would be over within a couple of hours and we wouldnt stay mad at each other. All these memories i will hold in my heart, with many many more. That is what i would miss. My memories, because without them i am nothing.

waste

somedays are just a waste of emotion.

a wate of time.

a waste of tears.

i look out side and see cat in the greenhouse. she will die too.

i think of jasmin. how will she cope.

at the moment i want to be a writer.

i want to spend my time writing from the heart as i do for you here.

can i do that for a living?

i dont know.

the mist that clouds my future will someday lift.

and it will be clear.

i like grass. the plant. or weed. what ever it is.

i like it.

its fresh and clear. especially when it rains.

i like standing in the rain with my face to the heavens and smile.

its a good way to waste such time.

confusion

have you ever thought that your happiness could pop
that if you got too happy God would snatch it back
sqeeze it till it burstcrack it like an iceberg
and if i stop try to please them all at once
maybe my happiness would shine on selfishly
desicions i can not make promises i can not break
Looking for guidence on a petit filous pot
for wisdom the back of crisp packet
they dont know i seek for more im the seeker of the law
What is right to do in places where silence is required
but all your conscience tells you to do is scream to break the ice
the little man that sits on my shoulder in red he tells me the selfish
and the little in white sits on the other and directs me to whats right
signs and directions i can not followbe it a rabbit with a clock or a umpa hobbit fellow
im alice in a world where i dont know what to do where i dont know where to go what door to open what window to climb out of
whom can i trust
when my heart is full of lust.

when blood comes to town

I have a dream that when blood comes to town
we all will stand up and throw ourselves into the fire
into the pan like the rhyme with the fat sizzling sausages
we are the sausagaes wasting our lives away in a pan
where we wait like little sheep to be hearded on to a plate
to be cut open, for our guts to be splayed. to be eaten.
i have a dream that when blood comes to town
ill stand there in my white blooded gown
and in tot eh fire i shall jump and fry and turn and wait
for the justice
wait for the help that we so need
i want to make a stand
make people see the wrongs they are comitting
when they are just sitting
and wasting
and not tasting their lives
i have a dream that when blood comes to town
that i wont leave in the fire with yet another frown.