Snow.

Every year the snow comes, and every year I am either missing someone, or I am entirely alone. This year it is the second one. The pale flakes burst from heavy skies, reigning their freedom unto us, some people will cry and fret about travel troubles, and some will dance. I merely yield my camera a midst the flurry of running feet and cries of laughter, taking empty photos of empty moments.

This is one. I stood and thanked God for all he has put me through and saved me from this year, and for giving me the courage to give up on the most painful thing I have ever loved. It was time to let go, I suppose. Winter is my time of solitude, whether I like it or not.

I am going to do some cleaning for my parents to earn enough money to buy a twenty bag of green, to myself. I will have it in stock in my room so that when I need to relax I can just roll a biff and disappear into a world of edgy thoughts and paranoid naps. I wish to smoke it with Bethan Collerton, but she will have none of that, I know. What with her terribly British way of crushing hearts with zebra striped and heavy, Doc Martens. Maybe one day, ay.

I have come to love my work, the way I can create and make people interested, just by looking at my Blipfoto journal for example, people become engrossed in my life, by my words and my photographs, for once i don't completely, feel useless, I have a an entrance into my mind, and it is open, if people can only find the door.

I want my arms to fully scar over, they are itchy and uncomfortable, the cuts are old, I just have a habit of picking them endlessly even with my stumpy chewed off nails. I like a girl, I can't tell you who. But she's beautiful beyond anything. Sigh.

~

Lovely girl, won't you stay, won't you stay, stay with me.
All my life, I was blind, I was blind, and now I see.
Violent men, dance the blood ballet.


My favourite band make my heart pound and give me butterflies, more than any girl could.