Letter to my teenage self

It gets better, happy things happen, you find new people to love you, the world keeps spinning and you're going to explore it.

The world moves strangely. It has plans for us all.

It's very strange to not know who you are. It's times where you do not understand the world around you, you forget everything that has happened to you and everything that is yet to come and you feel a disquieting comfort. It's very strange to be completely removed from everything you know. That's how I feel. Everything is new, I feel very different. I wish I could explain it somehow.
I do not belong in someones arms anymore. No one to know me. I do not have to explain. But I wish I could.

For now I am ready. My mind has been caged, restricted and scared. To be at a point of mental paralysis began to reflect on my actions, my life. I know it is time to end when all my passion is just a dwindling light, like a small candle in a large, dark room. I did not feel empty, or broken. I just felt... misplaced. Like something else was calling to me, the back of my mind whispers "what if..." to me. I am not the same as before. My life comes in waves and realisations crash at the shore. For now, I am ready to begin the next stage of my life. Completely free and willing, to say yes to making mistakes and not feel guilt or regret. To just live my life with support, yet independence. I want to not be afraid to find out who I am. I want to tell people things they have never heard before. To ask them questions and find out their biggest fears and biggest dreams. To find my own. I'm ready to go places I've never been. I'm ready to open the doors to a different colored light. I'm ready to smile because I'm lonely.

Ride - Lana Del Rey

I was in the winter of my life- and the men I met along the road were my only summer. At night I fell sleep with vision of myself dancing and laughing and crying with them. Three year down the line of being on an endless world tour and memories of them were the only things that sustained me, and my only real happy times. I was a singer, not very popular one, who once has dreams of becoming a beautiful poet- but upon an unfortunate series of events saw those dreams dashed and divided like million stars in the night sky that I wished on over and over again- sparkling and broken. But I really didn’t mind because I knew that it takes getting everything you ever wanted and then losing it to know what true freedom is.

When the people I used to know found out what I had been doing, how I had been living- they asked me why. But there’s no use in talking to people who have a home, they have no idea what its like to seek safety in other people, for home to be wherever you lied you head.

I was always an unusual girl, my mother told me that I had a chameleon soul. No moral compass pointing me due north, no fixed personality. Just an inner indecisiviness that was as wide as wavering as the ocean. And if I said that I didn’t plan for it to turn out this way I’d be lying- because I was born to be the other woman. I belonged to no one- who belonged to everyone, who had nothing- who wanted everything with a fire for every experience and an obssesion for freedom that terrified me to the point that I couldn’t even talk about- and pushed me to a nomadic point of madness that both dazzlez and dizzied me.

Every night I used to pray that I’d find my people- and finally I did- on the open road. We have nothing to lose, nothing to gain, nothing we desired anymore- except to make our lives into a work of art.

LIVE FAST. DIE YOUNG. BE WILD. AND HAVE FUN.

I believe in the country America used to be. I belive in the person I want to become, I believe in the freedom of the open road. And my motto is the same as ever- *I believe in the kindness of strangers. And when I’m at war with myself- I Ride. I Just Ride.*

Who are you? Are you in touch with all your darkest fantasies?
Have you created a life for yourself where you’re free to experience them?
I Have.
I Am Fucking Crazy. But I Am Free.

Aëla Labbé

I want something and someone to muse with, to sit on the floor with me and listen to music softly while we ask each other about our opinions on life. That's what I want now. Where are you?

(Draft) From a while ago, I find these things.

It really is very easy to lose your memory of things that once you held most important in your life. Time heals and time forgets. I know what your ears look like, I know the way you move still. I have memories of people, I remember what everyone else was like but I cannot remember what I was like. What was it like to speak to me, to hear me and see me? How am I different now? How do I find myself?

Would you ignore me if you saw me in the street? I still think about you a lot, I still ask myself questions about it. 8 years is a long time. One year, or two. They're all long. People change very quickly. Am I still the same?

People are moving continents and I am changing the colour of my hair again. I received a shock to the heart, but I receive them on a weekly basis. I am happy, but I am confused. What do I want? What does everybody want? What are we all aiming for?

Fufilment is necessary and worth looking for. But then, is that the end of it all?

Put my mind at ease.

I need my friends where are all my friends
I make them up in stories, in my head
I miss all my friends

I feel wrecked and saddened because it's also melancholy. People make noise over the top of their insecurities, dancing and singing louder than their thoughts. But now no one has structure, there is no structure to the rest of their lives. That's why there's that life formula that everyone expects for themselves, because no body really knows what they want to do or how to do it. What am I supposed to do now? All the parties in the world couldn't fill the dissatisfaction I have with my future. Life, at the moment, has no purpose. I'm unsure and insecure. I don't know how to arise from it either. The air is suffocating in this atmosphere of boredom and a taste of depression in the mouth, constantly thirsty with a blocked nose. I just want to find peace and reassurance and security and fun, I want to return to a life of romance and consistant smiling.

It seems that everyone around me is somewhat unhappy. Perhaps I'm unhappy too. Where is the lust for life?

it takes getting everything you ever wanted, then losing it, to know what true freedom is

I want to find a blogger that writes things about things that I can relate to, who can be my friend when I'm feeling like this. Not sad, just, bored and confused. dazed and confused.

Wake up with white light spilling behind cumbersome curtains.
Twist light pink hair into bun and place on top of head.
Press play on iPod and sing under your breath.
Slip on shirt, shorts and shoes.
Make tea, look out at backyard then say goodbye to dog.
Grab keys from behind the door and put them in ignition.
Drive to friend, talk about how good it is to not feel trapped and then go to boyfriend's.
Kiss on lips, roll around and then walk to the draw with left over clothes.
Meet outside for cider, wave excitedly at friends and when drunk enough, dance.
When that's enough, sing along and then go home.
Repeat.

It's November, how strange.

I see them everywhere and I'm like fuck you stab stab stab in the face why does everything you do annoy me
you should stop existing, move to perth and delete your facebook or something

WHAT AM I DOING WHAT AM I DOING WHAT AM I DOING

I'm back - for my last two weeks of confinement from a real world and I want it to be done now I want it to be all over now so that I never have to see some peoples freaky faces maybe I'll even delete them off facebook so they know I don't like them

I want to return with good news and insight and I'm sorry if I never replied to your emails, I will I promise

I will have a nice better life I miss writing about real things

I made a tumblr and hopefully I'll post more than I do here.

i have been trying to be who i was before him, but she doesn't exist anymore. i keep finding myself wishing i could hold her hand or be a house for her. i imagine that if she had a home beyond him then she might be whole, that she might then be me. i don't have to worry about hands anymore. no one listens to me breathe. i imagine him now, hiding green eyes inside eyelids. i daydream that he kisses me hard, tells me what color my veins are. & in the morning, between city streets & whatever heaven brings, i say, quite calmly, "i thought the girl you undressed & undid was the one i was." & he says, looking straight ahead, "the extent of your heart is the length of my arms."


19; bedbones

“You know that place between sleep and awake, the place where you can still remember dreaming? That’s where I’ll always love you. That’s where I’ll be waiting.”