Feeling better now

My feeling sick has passed, I am assuming therefore that it was caused by stress over my exam, which I still don't know the result of. However I am trying to stay positive and keep my mind off the whole thing. Instead I am promising myself that my book will be finished by September. That is my priority, nothing else matters, I'm seriously dedicating myself to that goal. 

Still stressing about result

I felt like my exam went really well, too confidently I think. I knew a lot more this time round and the last question (250 words) I wrote a substantial amount that made sense. I'm still unsure if it's enough, is what I've done worth 40points? I was only scoring low 20's before but I was guessing half it. Thing is I have the feeling I've passed, I think I've done it, but that makes me feel worse because if I haven't it will hit harder. I still don't know what I'll do if I've failed. In fact I actually know what I'd like to do but that's out of reach and not the path of life I was intended for this early so I'm pushing that to the back of my mind.

It's funny how much I love those songs about being broke but being in love, and in that sort of music being in love is all that matters. My parents have always had that sort of crap on, my brothers too, it's ingrained in us lot because we're all broke half the time. I know if it all goes poison in the well then I'm going to refuse to be bailed out, not that I can think of anyone right now to bail me out of anything. I will do what I have to do and stand alone. I wish I just had a decent plan, one a little more exciting than the brainstorm I have at the moment.

Something dead poem

There's something dead beneath my chair

It does not stir, it's certainly dead

Lying in a pool of congealing red

It smells like lost life, I know it is dead.

This something has been rotting here 

For longer than I'm sure, 

I do not try to move its offence, I do not care of its presence.

It is dead and I ignore it but the smell is warm and sticky in the air

When will it rot away completely they ask but I do not really care

This dead thing that is food for rats is dirty and diseased 

I remain seated in my chair while rats run round it like beasts

They take parts here and there and I watch them drag it away

The pool of blood, left so long is now a thick and creamy stain

When all has gone but me and the chair, the stain with still remain.

God poem

God, are you listening?

My lord do you still hear? Have you abandoned me, your child?

Are you close but in silence, lord are you here?

I have called out for guidance, I've spoken out to you

I hear not your answer, I feel not your hand.

Why have you left me to fend for my own ideas

When I ask for guidance you ignore, why don't I deserve help?

I begged of you once to return what once was mine...

I asked, I prayed, I sacrificed, I cried and I cried

You ignored my pleas, 

you left me sobbing on my knees

Never to return him, never to return him to me.

Finally I rose up, I stood and faced you then

I understand I said I am not to love that one again

But now my path is flooded and as I wade through,

The current is gripping me, I can't hear you.

God are you listening? Have you turned away? 

I cannot breathe, I cannot think

But I have kneeled and I pray and pray. 

I accepted what was once,when I knew it was not my path

I left that one tied up with memories, and pushed it into the past

But this is more important, this is just for me

I beg of you to help, I'm blind and cannot see

What way do I turn, what way should I go?

God will you help me? 

God are you listening?

Soul poem

A heart is an organ inside

Although it pumps my fuel around me

Although it keep me alive

The heart is just a pound of flesh it does not think or feel

To rely on a heart within your breast is a foolish dream to hold

It does not know or think or live, it merely beats alone

It beats alone. One day this pump will shut down

And you will die along with it

But it will not weep or mourn, because a machine has no heart. 

It is something else inside, something we cannot see

Cannot touch, or monitor, cannot feel or reach.

There is a notion of a soul, a spirit that guides silently

It is the reason we love and are loved, 

It's the reason for everything inside.

You cannot break my soul apart, 

A soul is untouchable.

You cannot damage or hurt or wound 

My soul is alone all alone, 

When I am dead and gone, 

My soul shall live on . 

Lost. Poem

Lost, I can't find my way

Wondering aimlessly as pointless as steam in the wind

I am but a seed blown without choice

I do not live to live but live to die

I am lost. Can't you point the way?

A light next to sunlight is unseen

A speck of dust alone is disregarded 

I am lost in a sea of misery, 

I am lost, and this is to be free

I do not walk to reach somewhere

No one waits for me there

I am alone, I am lost once more,

Where am I meant to be?

I am the mind of someone who is lost

Inside I rot away alone 

She does not know what way to go

And I do not know what to do

Together we wish and hope and pray

But does God listen to my mistress?

If life were fair I'd have a voice of my own

Instead I wait, lost and alone

I am lost, she is lost, together we have no way. 

Dear God

Dear God,
     Yes I'm praying online now, isn't that modern of me?
I don't pretend to be anything I am not, I am a good hearted person, who does what is right most of the time. I am not selfish or unfeeling, and when I'm able I do try to do my part in helping others. I am I confess a brilliant liar, a talent I adopted from my father, I also have rather recently succumbed to as the bible puts it carnal lusts and desires. I spent a long time being the innocent beacon of virtue, too much time really, to the point where I know I was ridged and guarded my virginity like a precious gem too easily shattered, I had a mental block to match my physical one and I refused to let it be broken, I really think I had some notion about forever keeping my virtue because once its gone its gone and I prided myself too highly on not throwing it away.

Well all that's changed now, forgive me, but everything changed. I feel as if I lied to myself and to faith because I am not some prude, I was not sacrificing anything by keeping myself to myself, I actually just hadn't felt the need or the desperation. Once I felt the right hands on me I hesitated only a moment really, I drew away for a second before giving in, not very virtuous of me. I was never a devout servant, that was some excuse I gave myself, I just hadn't been tempted by the devil at that point, once I had I did not care for anything but him.

So I have no offering to give, I once held virtue as if it were my saving glory and now that has gone and happily so, I cannot repent for that. I ask what I ask out of sheer desperation. I am on a path that is threatened to be flooded, I cannot swim, I have a fear of drowning, a fear that's been haunting my sleep more often than usual. I need to get through this. I once faced a similar trial, and I failed...I did not care because I pushed and fought and I found a way around it, I truly don't believe I can do that again. I am trying, I am really trying hard but that might not be enough. Get me through this, I'll manage everything else alone. Just get me through. Please.

Stressed Thoughts

I am taking another break, after 2 painkillers for a headache and a bit of a break down...I hate crying, I think it's weak and pointless and I rarely do it, not since I were sixteen disregarding the weeks of mourning for the Keyholder some several months ago. I have been having nightmares, I've chewed my nails to pieces, and now I've had a little cry. :-( all signs of pre-exam stress for me. This time its different of course, my academic career, my future is now held in the balance on the outcome of this exam. At the moment I'm getting aches that feel a lot like period pain but I'm not due for another week. Maybe that's stress too.

Today the packaging was delivered for my charity tea party, cake boxes etc. It gave me a real glow and sense of self worth. When I'm doing charity things I feel a genuine feeling of being in the right place, doing the right thing. If I were rich, after having a few years fun and establishing myself in the world, I would dedicate my life to charity events, and doing good. I like having a goal that's making a difference, I like feeling as if I am worth something to someone no matter how obscure or small. But I'm not rich, I'm poor. Lower working class poor. University was my chance to better myself, and it's slipping away.

There's one thing I've known all my life, I can't remember exactly when I learnt to write, but I know that as far back as I can go, I've loved writing stories. I grew to enjoy articles and poetry too. I have always known that writing and publishing was in my soul. I finally settled on an idea that turned into a story that became a series I am writing...my book, my Grace...that is everything. I have considered, hoped, prayed, dreamed of seeing this story published, and of course I've considered the possibility of never being published. It's a thought I've shunned away, because that is what would truly be the end of me.

If I fail on Tuesday, all I will have left is my book, and my faith. I will push and I will fight and if after going to hell and back I am turned away, if my book is regarded as plain and pointless as I may appear when I stand alone, then that will be the true failure. That would be the end of me as I know myself.

SAS who dares wins

When I was born my mother named me Sian Amy Siviter, S.A.S and she got hold of an S.A.S army cap badge that bore the motto of the society, 'Who Dares Wins.' I never took that kind of rubbish seriously, any idea of my mothers I generally disagree with, so is the curse of mother-daughter clashing. The motto has however been imbedded into me and recently I've lost sight of that. Today an old friend reminded me, I haven't been referred to as SAS in a long time, he said it and it triggered something off inside of me. I haven't been feeling all too daring lately, in truth I am frightened. I'm frightened of failing because if I fail this one exam on Tuesday, I will be automatically withdrawn from my university course. This hardly seems fair, to fail one 1st year module, when every other 1st and 2nd year subject has achieved a pass. I am frightened of not drifting off my path but being pushed. A number, in a machine, that's part of a system will determine my fate. I will not be regarded as a person, or a prospective anything, just a name on a screen that will be deleted, not by a fellow human being, but by a computer program. It's cruel.

I have no back up plan, no other ideas, I don't know what I'll do if I am forced out of university. I'm frightened of starving, of having no money, no prospects and no future. I have nobody to fall on, no helping hand to pull me up if I stumble, I must stand alone.

I am short on money recently, I got lower marks than I was happy with, my arthritis started hurting again without warning, I dropped and cracked my phone badly, all these signs...I am so scared of my life changing course I don't know how to handle it if it happens. I wish I was more the person I write, I wish I was brave and ready and daring. Everything happens for a reason, I guess I'll just have to hold onto that thought.

uni work

I have always been a reserved, slightly on the shy side kind of girl, unaccustomed to compliments. Brought up with an old fashioned Christian view of being virtuous, lady like, modest and respectable, I was never really given the choice or even opportunity to doubt my virtue. My very limited sexual experience with a boy during college had left me unfeeling and settled in the frame of mind that the whole notion was overrated and ridiculously exaggerated. I had not given him my virginity, it was worth too much in my eyes. The pathetic kissing and cuddling certainly wasn’t breathless, or hot, or drug like. It was generally emotionless, irritating in fact. It was not in all honesty an honour to God that made me keep my virginity until I was almost twenty it was through simple lack of desperation to change this.

 

God, I think, would be ashamed at how easily such a seemingly beacon of virtue became led by the devil. One icy night, when the sky had darkened to shades of violent purple and blue and the ground shimmered like crushed diamonds, contrasting colours of white and black, the colours should have been the first sign, Innocence-experience, Angel-Devil. I didn’t stand a chance. This is the short diary of a once virtuous angel, who followed the wolf into the darkness. This is what occurred in the darkness.

 

An angel laid upon a bed, suspecting but confident in her own restraint never knowing how easily she’d succumb. A devil of seduction allowed too close, a kiss…a few more. It was never meant to go any further. The first feeling was heat. Skilled hands trailing the fires of hell over an untainted body, kisses rough and soft on bare skin, a somersault of breath over a rapidly beating heart. The air became thick and breathing almost impossible, suddenly drugged with heat. Overpowering, unexpected, a burst of hot molten desire ran like warm wine down her throat, over her naval to the passage of intimacy between her opening legs. Another surge of fire, she was on fire, her skin burning. If she’d worn her cross it would have stung her sinful skin, it might have strangled her delicate neck. Instead soft hands cupped her throat with powerful dominance, spanning out and roaming down, over every inch of her frame. More, more, more…the words rang like church bells almost echoing from her lips. She bit down cruelly forcing them back but what did escape into the open were wanton unfamiliar sounds let free from some wicked fairy caught on breathless waves.

 

With the heat came the mist; a fog of sorts over her once clear green eyes. It settled in her throat caging protest, like alcohol in her veins, her limbs grew heavy. Her spine arched without control, suddenly her body was under the command of the wolf that had caught her. Fingers clutched at fabric in an attempt to hold onto reality, to not slip, too late the mist carried the angel off, delirious, unconscious of thought. More, more, more. Thrumming, throbbing, wings as damp now as the place between her legs, so wet like summer rain, a rain of kisses on her breasts, more, more, more.

A vague and distant protest tried to break through, somewhere was a voice spitting ‘whore’ ‘too much’ ‘stop it now’ ‘it’s going to far’ ‘you’re letting yourself fall, stop falling!’ …’Oh but it feels so good, so different. I want to be your whore’

 

Forsake the lord and his kingdom,

I have sinned, I am the devils subordinate

I cannot step where I am forbidden,

So lead me Devil into temptation.

Carry me over the coals of hell

For my angel feet cannot pass through

Catch me, carry me and I’ll let you.

You can face the lord, tell him that I fell.

 

Poor angel, ignorance has been your downfall, muttering and whispering to Christ as you lay there but he did not answer, he let you slip away. No one could have explained, you never really knew, no boy could have shown you this; it took a man to make you feel like a woman. My wings are heavy, the angel thought, I don’t want to leave this hell fire bed. I want to burn through and through. I want to know how to make you burn too.

“Fall angel, fall and I will catch you.”

Angel sits on a cloud, a flushed face of shame, when did you become so wanton? How could you have let it go so far? Naughty angel! Showing a side of herself so quickly, so openly, a side she didn’t know about. You’re a fallen angel. You still want more.

 

Angel spreads her wings it's that time of night, the devil he lingers just a minute more.

Ready for sleep upon a cloud

but then suddenly pushed up against a wall, a sigh out loud.

Angel's knees buckle, she'd fall without the devils arms.

Feathers pressed against the wall, oh god forgive me I cannot say no.

Never mind your trembling thighs child, you fell a while ago,

I feel the heat rise up from you, God will feel it too.

Hot mouths press together, unrestrained, laced with sin.

Take me now for gods sake the angel could beg aloud,

it's time to leave angel stop this now!

Oh I can't, push your hand in... the claws of the devil slip in, so wet,

so wanton, place me back on that bed?

Oh christ I can't breathe, my legs are weakening,

I can't stand much longer, lift me up, take me to hell,

I want to burn, I want to die in sin...

It's time to go angel...it's time to leave.

Stop these thoughts, stop this need.

 

The angel awoke in violent daylight, her flesh was cooled now, but the memory of the burning remained...Torture, hot red coals had been lain upon her bare flesh and heated her through to the core. The devil had lain within her, he had stirred himself in and out and she'd accepted with abandonment.

"Where is God now? I cannot face him again. The essence of the devil ran through me and poured out marking me as his own, marking the bed sheets. I'm sorry my lord, for I have sinned. The devil has taken me for his own."

 

Angel's memory is burned too like her body, a searing pain like a branding knife touching her, pushing in, invading, the pain was hot and hard and the lust confused it, more, but it hurts, take the pain it's worth it to be so full with heat.

Oh Angel it aches now doesn't it, poor sweet one, God won't have sympathy for you, cleanse yourself angel your pussycat is tainted with come and the memory of sex. Breathe angel, the ache will pass, you'll want more soon enough. You’ve lost your virginity, it bled out on the devils bed, you waited so long only to leap from the arms of the lord into the sheets of the devil.

The Angel couldn't wait long, a day at the most.

"I want more. I need to be full again, I want my wolf inside me. Yes...yes...More, I'm yours. I'm yours to command.”

 

There's a bite mark on her inner arm, the flesh brusied brown with passion, oh no angel your demon did not hurt you, you fool you bit yourself, you took your own flesh between your teeth and bit down hard to stop from screaming. You may muffle your cries angel but God still hears, he hears you murmer his name over and over but not in prayer, he hears your wanton call and your thoughts are loudest of all. You tainted girl, you let the wolf take you like a dog, you wanted to beg for more...you still do.

"I want my wolf again, I cannot sit here without the thought of being taken and pushed and pulled running through my head. I am a lady of the West but I've stepped down from grace, take me again wolf, screw me your own way."

 

I waited when others rushed, I held back when others ran. I said no and walked away when everyone else seemed to stay put and be led astray. I have finally been led astray but I chose my wolf with care, and I became a woman when I became of an age to deserve the name. I waited until a man made me so hot with a few kisses that I couldn’t think of anything else. The twenty years I’ve spent in this world have not held much in the way of adventure or excitement or even grief. I’ve not been anywhere, or lost anyone, or even made any mistakes worth telling, but I have in the month of April shed my white gown, replaced it with a red cape and followed the wolf into a dark place called lust. I’ve lain with what I can only describe as a human version of temptation, and I’ve felt raw genuine passion for the first time in my life. That’s worthy of writing I think. That inspired me more than anything has in a long time. I am an angel, but a fallen one now.

 

Biography piece on Jane Austen

 

England 1796

It is quite clear that in society today…

It is known among those of us in society with mothers and daughters that…

 A single man with good fortune…

No, no, no Jane thought scribbling away with her quill so furiously it almost snapped in two. The beginning and end to her novel were yet to be finished, it had a title, that much Jane was certain about, “First Impressions” it just needed to be finished, but her hand trembled and Jane was not in all good reason at her best to be writing romance at the moment, instead she took up a fresh piece of parchment, laid it down and began a letter to her sister,

Cassandra my dearest,

             At length the day is come on which I am to flirt my last with Tom Lefroy, and when you receive this it will be over. My tears flow at the melancholy idea. I have reflected and pushed it around my head so many times always to the same outcome, it must be ended. We cannot marry, and already the reputations of both parties, as pointed out by our mother, have been tarnished to an extent. This I have little concern about, but surely to endure such love for much longer, would be to inflict more pain upon us both. 

 Your affection sister, Jane

Taking a breath Jane left the letter to dry under the blotting sheet. A letter in Tom’s hand lay upon the desk and it cut a fine figure against the grainy wood.

Jane,

I write with the sole intention of confessing to you what I should have the moment I met you, I live for you, I love you. I can suffer no longer in silence, you know this, how can you not? We will find a way, a word from you will have the bans called up this week. We will find a way.  You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone forever.

-Thomas Lefroy

Jane choked back a disjointed sob, the pain was suffocating, knowing she was to meet him that evening and let him go. For the sake of both their families she had to. There was no way.

Tom waited for her, a handsome figure in striking bottle green. He bowed his head to her but she did not run to him and it was not until he came close enough did he see the glistening of moisture upon her lashes.

“Jane what is it? What have you to say to me?”

“I come in receipt of your letter.” Jane began slowly “I regret I must refuse your proposal, for the sake of both our families and the sake of…”

“What!” he cried indignantly, “Damn the families, what say you of my feelings Jane, of your feelings? Do not make jest and pretend you have none for me”

“No I don’t admit to that. I care for you deeply, as well you know. However our circumstances as such mean that an alliance of our kind would result in hardships and scrutiny from our circles, we must think of others, think of your sisters how they depend upon you.” Jane’s eyes pleaded with Tom desperately, everything she could not say reflected in the mirror like quality of them.

“I see. So this is your opinion of me? That I would abandon my responsibilities without a second thought?”

“No!” Jane cried “but you must see as I do the impossibility of this match, no one will stand for it Tom. You will lose your place at court and then what will your family live on? What will mine? Selfishness is a luxury reserved for the rich, not for us.”

Tom stood in silence for a while, he looked as though he were certainly torn between running away with her and protecting his career and in turn his family that much depended upon him. When he had written his letter for her he had not known what way they would find, only that there must be one. He saw now through Jane’s rejection of him that there was no way. Another luxury for the richer of men was the ability to marry whom they chose, and love was not a mercy given to the poorer of England’s gentry.

“Tell me, how’s the latest novel coming along?” he asked randomly changing the subject to disguise his anguish. It did not fool Jane but she played along, her own insides burning as her heart shattered.

“Not at all. I cannot find a way to end it.”

“Happily.” Tom replied with a half smile “The joy of fiction, you can write it as it should be. Give Elizabeth the ending we should have had, the unbelievable one, that could never really be in our world.”

Jane’s tears started to spill over onto her cheeks but she held her feet firmly where they were, if she ran to him now she’d lose all her reserve. Tom had less restraint, for a moment he took a single step forward, tilted before turning and retreating. Feet away from his horse he looked back.

“And the title, I have a better one.”

“Indeed?”

“Pride and Prejudice.” He replied with bitter humour “without either in our society we would not be walking away from each other this moment. If it wasn’t for the Pride of our families, your own pride and mine, the prejudice of society…we would be married within the month.” Jane could do nothing but nod, her tongue swollen and heavy, her throat clasping shut. Her heart drowning in its own agony, pieces like shreds of paper fluttering from her hand in the wind.

“Goodbye Tom.”

“Goodbye Miss Austen” he bowed and that was the last time she would see him for the next twenty years. If I can’t marry him, I’ll marry no one. She swore to herself watching his horse dart away. My characters can have the love I was not allowed. I shall never marry. Jane cried then most bitterly, her knees buckled and she crumbled to the ground. A storm of rain like tears viciously pounded down on her, dampening her spirit along with her skirts. She had let the only man she’d ever loved go, and now had nothing but her writing for comfort. That would have to be enough. Once at home Jane didn’t bother to undress before scratching her quill along her earlier parchment.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.

Then the added but later crossed out

And such a man can choose his wife at leisure, whereas a poor one must suffer the reality of loss, and a woman, as has always been, has no respected opinion in the matter.

Jane decided then that she would dedicate her life to her literature all the while missing Tom like a bird would miss its wings.

Twenty years later

1816

Jane found herself a little exhausted from the evening and found herself a quiet place by an open window. She was weakening; her family had noticed and in turn so had she. Anne Elliott had been given her happy ending and that was what Jane had been holding on for. Suddenly Jane’s hands trembled and she caught her breath as she saw a familiar silhouette cutting a shadow in the light.  A moment’s reflection set her to rights, and she could look upon the face she had not seen but thought of often the last twenty years.

“Hello Tom”

“Good evening Miss Austen”

Older, etched slightly with lines, silver rivers running through his once black hair, Jane savoured every angle and arch of his face.

“How did you find my most loved?” she asked smiling softly, struggling to stand properly.

“Pride and Prejudice, I liked it better than Emma. Of course I’ve read all your novels. I particularly liked the title.”

“Indeed? A young man I was very fond of gave me a lot of inspiration.”

“Is that so.” Tom smiled and looked younger with the brightness is his eyes “he adored you I assume?”

“He loved me a little once I believe.”

“A boyish love?”

“Perhaps.”

“Oh no Jane, never. Never boyish, much deeper than that I assure you.”

“Even now, right at my end?”

He clasped her hand but for a moment before taking the appropriate steps back.

“Always.”

Wordcount: 1410

 

fighting through but worn down

Giving up seems like such an easy option. Especially when you're nursing warm tears and a brutal headache. It's not just an establishments comments and numbers that make parts of you crash down, it's that feeling of loss. Does it make sense that I am yet to feel like I am where I'm meant to be? In twenty years I've not found that peaceful feeling of being in the right place. I grew up reading about so much adventure, I craved to be the person I felt I wasn't given the chance to be...so I wrote it down on paper. I turned a blank notebook into a world that would give me everything I asked of it. I held lives and souls in my hands. In my notebook I am God. I thought by now I'd find an ideal in reality, but no, not yet.

Every turn I've ever faced I felt like there was a guard I had to fight past while holding no sword, a river I had to cross when I can't swim, everything is a struggle and push and shove. I always hold back, uncertainty features a lot inside my head, I've never done anything lightly. I always hesitate and toss and turn before making a decision. Getting into university was a fluke, I didn't get the amount of points I needed, but for some odd reason they let me in anyway, no clearance or waiting list, a total fluke. Intelligence and knowledge are two different things someone told me, I'm not very intelligent, I don't hold onto knowledge that doesn't interest me, but there are three things I have; Creativity, Imagination and Determination. I've never claimed to have anything else, surely people have worked themselves up with less.

My head is throbbing and I'm lost. I should have been a gardener. I've never been keen on numbers, they make no sense to me. Being a digit in a system, a number of grades on a page means nothing. My soul is untouchable my heart is not. There's a constant question running through my mind all the time: What am I working towards? How long before I get there? I this the right path?
I'm a wiccan. I live my life by feelings and senses, if this was right I'd know for sure. This doubt is a sign but it's too late to turn back now. Any other path is too risky for someone like me, it amounts to the same thing each time, a lack of money. I have to follow the path I can afford, I can't stray now. If I fail, if I do badly where will I go from there? If the next envelope is anything like this one I had better come up with a plan and fast.

half of this probably doesn't make sense to a reader, I'm just typing thoughts as they come while Con Air in all it's fire and brilliance is playing in the back ground. I've been utterly crushed today, I'm not a crier, I'm not a weak person that breaks down and I don't often let things get the better of me, I'm stronger than that, but this meant more to me than I let on. Sometimes I just wish the road was more clear for me, instead I have to fight and push and I'm getting wary of it. Since I was fifteen I've followed one goal and been set on that target and I'm almost at the end for it to now be flickering out in the wind. I've sat in this house for twenty years, I've written almost every word behind these walls, I'm beginning to feel extremely suffocated. All the hopes, and work and effort are sucking the little life thats left here for me, I'm suffocating and I'm still fighting my way through I'm yet to have anything to show for it.

Average :-(

I got average results today, in an average boring envelope, an envelope I felt sick opening. Thing is, despite everything, my upbringing, the way I look, the way I talk, to any stranger I might look the simple plain character but I am not. I am not average or low standard. There's something in me worth while and sometimes I think I'm the only person that can see this. I need a chance to prove this and the only way I can is through my book. I'm crying now because my chance to push my book to people that might look twice at it is rapidly slipping through my fingers as this envelope is crumbling in my hands. I haven't cried in a while. I knew I was on top too long, and now it's crashing down on cue, the wheel of fortune spinning back the way it came. I'm crushed. I just want to curl up and try and work out a way to climb a mountain on my own but no ideas are coming to me. I can sense where this is going, I can see the rope breaking and I can't scramble up fast enough. If you gave me five minutes in a room I would make them see my light, I'd shine for them, but I'm not being given that chance. This envelope is ripping up the only chance offered. I don't know what to do now. I don't know how to force myself on these people right now. I haven't been this upset in a long time. I know I would have succeeded if you put me to fight for myself. These marks on paper mean nothing. I need no armour, nor solider, I needed a pen and I needed you,  I would have fought my way through. Now I'll just cry and let it out, and I'll think in the morning.

Sad woman poem

There's a sad woman upstairs

She'll stay in that place all day

Crying at random, breaking down piece by piece

She's nothing more than a crumbling leaf

Fading away, fading away.

The light in her eyes has died and no ones replacing the lightbulb 

There's a murky fog around her

She looks but doesn't see,

I used to know a woman who meant everything to me

I don't know her anymore, she's not the person she used to be

There's a coloured pane of glass between us, 

The glass distorts everything

I've tried to bring her back, but it's time to give up I think. 

Life thinking again...

I'm struggling here. I have a year left before my life really starts, that's what I keep telling myself. I have this awful ache inside me screaming that I have only one way out, one thing that can possibly make everything fit together and put me where I am meant to be: my book

Grace has walked with me for so long it's like I've become more of her than I ever wrote her to be like me. I have to get my story finished, I need to get it published, I can feel all my life in that story and if it doesn't push me along I'll be lost. I won't know what to do, I feel like the balance of my life is on the edge and the only thing holding me from crashing down is the angel wings I've written myself. Nothing else matters in my world not in reference to me. just my books. They're everything. Jobs will come and go, university will end with whatever I've gotten myself, but even if my life crashes and burns none of it really matters to me other than this story. If it burnt to ash I would blow away in the breeze with it, nothing will ever matter to me more. Until perhaps I have children. 

I guess I'm just a bit blue right now thinking over these life choices. I won't say what they are but I have recently had serious longing for something I didn't think about much before. Maybe because it just wasn't a possibility or in reach but I am blissfully happy in one area of my life, and I strongly feel like I may have a new slightly different future ahead of me that might not take the time until I'm thirty to reach. I keep having dreams, and I'm never wrong in my feelings. I'm still the adventurer, I still have my b.list and I still have all my goals but I can't stop that other feeling now. I'm trying to ignore it for the time being but eventually, in a few years rather than a decade, I might have changed my course of life. 

I didn't see you..poem

I shuffle the deck and think a word,

I feel a question inside

I push my energy through the cards,

The answers have no where to hide.

I see what's important in my life, I see the people I know

I read about the beginning and end and everything below

Taking the deck I spread the crescent and draw the cards to me

The answers lie before my eyes, the future I set free

I see the change in people, as the seasons move

I see the wheel of fortune turn as I win or lose

The heartbreak of one end, the bond with close friends

I see trials and dreams, in truth I see most everything

Only one thing evaded me, one thing the cards did not show

I did not see you as you entered my life, and therefore I did not know

I almost passed by without a backward glance, 

On looking closer dared not think that this was my chance

The cards did not give face to you, or tell me what was right

I did not think I'd see you again after meeting that night 

The cards hid you from me, why? Because I'd have run?

I wouldn't have stayed to discover if my heart was wrong

I rapidly threw up walls and shields but it was much too late

You had evaded my inner eye, somehow you had befriended fate

I see everything I need to, my conscious and cards lead the way

They send me signs and readings so I can be safe each day

But I did not see you my Tree, planting in my heart. 

I did not see you coming, and didn't see if we will part. 

Wicca and me: readings

I was raised by a mother who was very much into magic and witchcraft, the supernatural and natures ability to do things unexpected...I got my own deck of Tarot cards when I was eleven. Most often my  predictions come from them, but sometimes I dream of things that are happening during my sleep and I discover their truth in the morning, or I just have a feeling, sometimes I say something out loud not really thinking about the consequences of my words...I predicted in the cards the divorce of my friends parents, I knew the day his grandad died long before I got the phone call, I predicted my first relationship would end before I reached twenty, I almost said it as a joke but I knew better deep down. Theres only one thing i didn't see coming and that surprised me...i didn't see my tree. I even asked the cards simple questions for everyday and I'm never wrong. I asked if my tree wanted me and read the moon (strong female energy of dominance and getting what one wants) and the lovers...quite obvious really. I am never wrong with my predictions. I don't rely on them, but they give me comfort, to draw the cards is very calming. 

Dear Heart, Something important to say

Dear Heart,
     Hope you're well, haven't written in a while
it's so good to feel you beating strong, to see you smile
now I have something important to say,
I am your friend, you are my dear one, but don't come back this way.
I've gotten used to you being with him,
and if you come back to me I'll turn you away.
I don't want to see you standing there, those old wounds opened up
I won't let you in when you drag your suitcases back here
if you let go of this one, I'll say it's your own fault
keep hold, stay steady, let go of that past fear
I don't want you coming back to me,
I won't have you come back here.
If those strong hands by chance break you up,
if you start bleeding and dying again
don't come crying to me for help
I'll leave you out to drown in the rain
I won't want you when you're so black and blue
I'd rather wither away, and I'll die along with you.