I Can't Write Happy Poetry

I just realised that to those who don't know me, I must look like an emotional wreck.

Those of you that do know me, well, enough said.

I'm happy, I just don't know how to write when I'm happy. It's why I'm struggling with poetry so much in the past few months. Happy poetry doesn't come naturally to me, but believe me, I'm working on it :)

Is it okay if what I want to be will never make you happy?

Older Sister

As an older sister, I do things for people that save me from hell.

Juliet, Naked

I first read this book in the summer of 2010. Read, I said, and what I meant was devoured. It so peculiarly and particularly mirrored my life, it was a very eerie sensation. What a surprise of a novel.

I was reading over my notebook from that year, the notebook that held all my heartbreak and silly little etchings from that moment and I came across these quotes from the book.

"He was now beginning to wonder whether the jigsaw was the correct metaphor for relationships between men and women after all. It didn't take account of the sheer stubbornness of human beings, their determination to affix themselves to another even if they didn't fit. They didn't care about jutting off at weird angles, and they didn't care about phone booths and Mary, Queen of Scots. They were motivated not by seamless and sensible matchings but by eyes, mouths, smiles, minds, breasts and chests and bottoms, wit, kindness, charms, romantic history and all sorts of other things that made straight edges impossible to achieve."

"Have you ever had one of those? When you know you were out of your depth?"

"In her case, it had taken about three minutes for passionate admiration and dreamy speculation to be replaced by a nervous, naggingly maternal disapproval."


I really love Nicholas Hornby.


Cheers!

Orange Shoe Glad to See Me?

I do believe it's true that there are roads left in both of our shoes, and if the silence takes you then I hope it takes me too.
So brown eyes I hold you near 'cause you're the only song that I want to hear, a melody floating softly through my atmosphere.

Feeling Alright

Birds in the sky, you know how I feel.

Sex and Rain, or Lack Thereof

How understanding is understanding?


Why am I always stuck with cabbies in the rain?

And yes, that is a metaphor for morals.