Its been a busy year for me... Will the new year follow this good trend or disappoint?

So much has happenend in such a short year. 365 days, 12 months, 52 weeks, 8760 hours and so on and so on. this year has just been too short for words. but i'm short and to someone as short as me such a short time can seem very long.

my exploits have not all been captured on paper, they have not all been worthy for the interwebs and often i don't acknowledge them to myself, but they have all happenend.

i've had interviews from hell and job offers to boot. i've lost friends and gained loved ones. and in the processes of it all found out who i really am and that is who i really want to be.

i've had the honour of welcoming people and dignitaries to our great shores and experienced gratitude like no other. and learned that all it takes to make a day is a simple thank-you and a dash of a smile.

i've learned to be creative, to acknowledge the beauty all around us and tried to find beauty in creating art through many mediums and crafts.

i also had a small stint in a hospital (my brain is still intact, thank-you very much) the fear still persists, wrote a crap-tastic book (with a little too much smut for anybody's liking) the fear still exists, and got accepted for my dream job (sadly it is not at the coca-cola factory) the fear has me shaking in my boots, because it means i will soon have to leave behind these sunny shores and all the people on it to venture out and make a new home in a foreign place.

i treasure this year and all its happenings whether good, bad or ugly because it is leading me on an unfamiliar path that i want to be on.

so all thats left to say is: see you all on the flip side... Mickey your ears are mine!!!

Love NjinWonderland

my NaNo month

NaNoWriMo

The rules (According to me)

• 50,000 words (+/-16667 words per day)

• 30 days (Begin 01/11 & End 30/11)

• Pick a genre

• And don’t stop writing

For the entire month of November I was participating in something called NaNoWriMo or National Novel Writing Month which happens annually.

I took part on a whim. A few weeks before I had stopped writing because everything I was producing stopped making sense to me (I know... it never made sense to anyone before). So when someone sent me a link I immediately talked myself into it then talked some people into being my own cheering squad.

I went into it blindly, no plot no problem? Up until you can’t figure out if you’re writing a romance or a horror. The first week was exciting and I was confident, well as confident as a no talent writer can be. I had resigned myself to only writing whatever popped in my head, I refused to plan ahead and I foolishly wrote everything by hand until I had the time to sleepily type everything up again. The second week began successfully until I lost all hope in the middle of it all.

A bit of advice if you’re participating in a 50,000 word 30 day challenge: sleep is for the faint at heart and migraines caused from stress of being under target for the day is just a stupid excuse to sleep like the weakling you are. Well that’s what I kept telling myself over and over.
So during the second week everything went downhill for me (I know I suck). Now they say it will all clear up around the third week but and the fourth would be the home stretch and you’d be so excited that the finish was near that nothing could deter you from writing. None of that happened for me or it just all happened in reverse.
But lucky me, my end result just so happens to be 50,525 words in 30 days, how many people can say that they have done that as a no talent beginner writer thingy?

Here’s a little taste...

Claire spotted some art on the walls. Two abstract paintings and a landscape of an Italian villa and its surrounding area. And positioned above his desk was one of hers (one that wasn’t abstract at all). It was a self portrait in a way. It was the darkest piece of work she had managed in her young life, borne from her depressive state at not being able to prosper the way she felt she deserved to. Her red hair was muddied in the picture. She had worked painstakingly hard at that looking at her reflection in the cracked hand held mirror for far too long. The entire painting had a dark grey scale tinted effect to it and lacked a lot of colour except for a single blue tear that she had introduced at the last minute and a red sunflower that had been one of the inspiring things for the painting, although the flower had been yellow when she had seen it bloom.

Here’s another...

She braved the storm. “I met a boy when I was about eight. I think I fell in love with him. I dreamt about him for almost an eternity. Then about ten years later I came across him again, but he didn’t remember me. He was with another girl. They looked so happy, so comfortable together, holding hands and laughing at each other’s failed attempts at jokes,” Claire’s voice broke as a tear rolled down her face plopping into her wine glass. “I painted that with a broken heart, because I knew he could never love me and poured my soul out onto the canvass. Because he would never want me. As the years passed I learned to accept that he would never see me for the person I am. Now just six years later he tells me he sees into my soul after staring at a painting I did when I was young and naïve and in need of being wanted,” Claire faced Alex. “Wait, do you mean I somehow inspired that?” he asked smiling up at the painting.

Want more? No can do I have to edit and now is not the time for that. The time now is naptime
 edit: The novel is called 'The Perfect Mistake That I'm Hoping You'll Make Right Now' and its a Romance

just a little update

hey look who just so happens to be a #NaNoWriMo2010 participant.
welcome to day number 9 right now as my stats have shown i'll likely be an author of a completed novel by the 5th of December 2010. keep in mind this is a 30 day challenge that began on monday the 1st of November and will end on the 30th of Novemeber. i have so far gotten mixed reviews when i spilled the beans about this challenge.
here's the one that made me curse the loudest: "you read".
did i forget to mention that im a first timer and my genre is romance (i have no idea how to be romantic). oh and the novel word count is 50,000 words (yeah no exaggeration needed). my total for the past 8 days just so happens to be 13,114 no where near where i need to be but hey it all about the F.U.N right. even though i am not entirely sure that i will finish on or before the deadline, i already have plans to do this next year hopefully then i'll have a structured plot and a storyline that actually makes sense. but who ever knows with me right...

Edit: last night (17/11/2010) at around 23:16 to be exact (and we all know how much i dont líke to be) i managed to hit my personal word goal #25,000 words... however i only noticed at word #25,149. the true fml is that now i am not just 50 words behind where i expected to be but 4,500 words behind. heres to going strong... if i dont make it for 50,000 at least my personal was hit hard with a baseball bat.

The Lamppost

I’ve been having those awful nightmares again, where I wake up screaming, kicking and fighting with people I don’t know. I don’t know why it started up again. My peaceful slumber has not been this badly disturbed since... The Lamppost.

Foolhardy, Like You So In Love

I never used to beg as a child. Now I’m on my knees asking you please, please, please, please. Instead you kill me with a smile and a ha ha ha.

“I’m here,” was all you had to say to chase away the monsters from below my bed. But instead you had me up against a wall with your hands around my neck.

Gestures got displaced- like denial of a sacrificial dream to unreach the stars and hide behind the moon to never have to see the light-of-day all over again.

“I’m leaving, I’ll see you in a minute,” I say as the fire licks at my feet and the heat envelopes me.

Too Much of a Good Thing is Just Right for Me

I wanna write a song about a dream I had,

Where I felt as light as a ton of feathers when my heart was as heavy as a ton of bricks.
I wanna illustrate a comic strip
And make it mean everything to one person... And know that it was all worth the sixpence we shared.
I want to kiss in the rain And only come up for air when the snow coats my nose.

Can we blur the lines?
Bend the rules?
Fight the good fight?
For the love of nothing better to do?
Can we be happy as the tears stream from dark eyes?

I want to be able to say: I love you enough to let you go where your heart leads you but selfishly never let go. “If loving you is wrong I never want to be right”.
I want to walk on a rainbow and at its end find a pot of gold full of ‘I love you- love Scott’s.
I’m falling out of love with a dream
And i don’t want to fight the feeling.
You stole my heart and I handed you my soul.

The Humble Bumblebee

I’d recently seen the movie ‘Evita’ again for like the third time. While enjoying the show I got stuck at one particular rendition, where Madonna as Eva Peroni is trying to convince everyone around her (including her lover) that someday she’ll make it big. Her song touched me, well actually my misinterpretation of the lyrics “I wanna be, I’ve gotta be a Buenos Aires, Big Apple” sort of left me confused: why would she want so desperately to be a bumblebee? I now realise that the lyrics are not “I wanna be, I’ve gotta be a humble bumblebee”. I mean this is a woman who wanted to be someone, she wasn’t afraid to lead or be showy; in fact I think she thrived on that. It just got me thinking is all...


When in company my grandmother never forfeits the opportunity to mention that she has the most humble grandchildren ever. In doing so she becomes a little less modest, but then again I believe she has earned that right, she is 82 after all. Then I started working through the dots: Are we really humble or just fearful to disappoint? Or am I just the girl selling her soul to climb a ladder in order to be someone? Is this a fear of rejection that now manifests as humility?

So because I never threw my very few achievements in your face, am I humble? Or is it the meaningful ‘Please, Thank you and No thank, I’ve had enough’s that prompt you to believe I have that quality inside of me?

I think the Black Eyed Peas say it best: “I’m a bee, I’m a bee, I’m a humble bumblebee.

My Hand-me-down Life Re-visited

For the longest time (okay almost two weeks) I could not for the life of me understand why all my thoughts were pointing in one oblivious direction (not that I immediately saw that direction).


All the imagery was somewhat tangible (when can you ever see my imagery?). I managed to turn myself into an Ostrich, a most awkward and flightless bird who somehow managed to stick its head in the sand just as a tornado swirled the tiny grains of sand around its head obstructing already poor vision. And just like in those old cartoons where the characters stuck their head in the ground in America it would pop up in China, all my thoughts pointed there too. I myself felt small and the best way to challenge my height was to place me in juxtaposition to a wall that can withstand all that nature has thrown at it.

I blame the Beatles for that post because I started seeing everything with new eyes. I’ve decided to change, I know it’s a constant progression that never stops, but I am trying to see every mistake as a new adventure waiting to lead me to new heights (maybe just maybe I’ll grow, in more ways than one. Not only did I reference the Great Wall and an even greater bird but I even managed to throw in some Terracotta Warriors (just for good measure).

But still I could not fathom my African/ Chinese obsession all of a sudden... then I realised I’d seen pictures of P!atd when they were early this month in China. (These dudes influence me too much for my own good... but I’m not gonna complain).

My Hand-me-down Life

My heads stuck and there’s sand in my eyes and thudding in my ears and a heart racing at a mile a minute.

I’m a creature of habit. There’s truth in what we did... who we became... and how we changed the world for good. The future is just a bunch of hopes and dreams lying in wait to fall through the cracks.

We’re made of brick and stone, to create a wall that can surpass the ages (these walls have ears) infallible like the mascara running up my cheeks, that are rosy and red and cold just like the wall when seen through rose coloured glasses, like the ones that held onto our faces with duct-tape as we raced around the globe in a roller-coaster as our drinks sloshed around like the liquid in my favourite snow-globe; shaken not stirred!

I tug but my heads still stuck. The sand has blown away leaving my vision clearer than it ever was and I see the infinite wall staring back at me in all its greatness and an army before it made of stone unlike me.

“Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo”, Juliet solemnly asked...

Dear Juliet,


I know this is supposed to be about love. No, not just any kind of love, but the unattainable kind that people lose their minds over. So I guess this is where I warn you that I haven't found the one and neither has he found me... yet.

It's as though love keeps bypassing me. My friends all have sparkles in their eyes and here I sit faking smiles to prove that I'm okay being by myself. Sometimes it really is okay because I really am happy and most of the time those smiles happen to be the real deal.

I dreamt him up... those eyes that change each time they burn deeper into my soul. I see him before me, but he's not mine, he's just a memory of a dream that won't come true.

I've gone so far as to mould him from clay, to try to breathe life into that mound of sand and hope for him to love me.

Love is all around us (sometimes I forget), and I'm trying my damndest to learn to be patient for when my unattainable love comes to find me... for when my Romeo comes to find me. (If ever you want to play fairy godmother just please give him a push in my direction... the right direction.)

I know that one day, someday soon, I too shall have that sparkle in my eye and the love from my one keeping me safe.

Love nj in wonderland

What a Waste of the Sun

Smoke billowed from a chimney as the porch light extinguished, the drapes drawn and the resounding quiet too loud for outside ears.

The Last Remnants of Framed Mementos

On Wednesday a dear beloved was injured in a horrific tragedy. At promptly 19:52 the coroner’s report was received stating that the passing away was accidental.

For the past few years, each day was spent in the company of greats. Each day they helped me see, directed my way without protest and assisted in my constant need for learning.

My glasses... or “gases” as someone often called them. When I had first gotten this pair no one noticed the change to my exterior and I didn’t mind. They went everywhere with me... sorry my humorous eulogy skills haven’t quite kicked in yet.

I remember them all fogged up as I persevered to concur that ski mountain. I remember the countless heroines they brought to life for me. i remember how often I managed to fall asleep with them on and feeling safe and protected like: nothing bad can touch me now. As soon as I adjusted them to the bridge of my nose I was transported to a world unknown, one that was made of dark & light, good & bad, yin & yang.

We take the little things for granted... to you they might have just been specs, but to me they were the window frames to my soul.

The Indecisive Pretender

You’re not who you say you are... I see it in your eyes at night when you change from dark to light. I see it when we fight, when you care to make my heart feel so tight. At first sight I can’t decide if I want to want you because you’re not who you say you are or if I can live with me without you.

I am me no doubts about it. Un-hollow and warm: through and through. Being near you I feel like me, just ten million times better, like you fuel my super powers.
I want you to want me too. I’m tired of hoping you’d show me you. Let’s put our fears aside. Maybe we should slow things down and go up town to play with a circus clown without a frown as I wear a curious crown... my eyes are brown and I like the sound of your smile when you’re you through and through.
It sort of still feels bitter-sweet: one goal down ten million still lying around... but I could care less about them all scattered round and strewn on the dirty ground… because “all you need is love” and if it’s meant to be... it will be. It all comes to play at the right time.
The tears I’d shed were not for you, but for the life you’d said I would never call my own. Because you’re not who I say you are...

Hit the Bank before You trudge the Lane: the Memory Saga

You are more than you give yourself credit for. Fear is powerful and you’ve allowed it to rule like a Nazi dictator or something equally vile.
Fear is the darkness that clouds out the brightest star. Love is the sun that dries up all the tears shed leaving you starry-eyed.
Wanna forget the bad times? Build shrines for smiles we don’t even remember?
Sometimes it’s good to remember the pain, the tears, the lessons we were forced to learn... it always has the tendency to remind us of the courage we possess, of how brave we are, of what we can accomplish when we put our minds to it even as our hearts shatter.
I like to forget to forget... to remember the true smiles. I’ll never ask for more. I’ll never tell you to hide who you are. And I’ll never expect you to be who you are not.

I thought I'd try something a little different today

I thought I'd try something a little different today


my interest in the Saga is waning just a little. i loved the books, devoured them & looked past all the spelling errors (which is hard for me to do). i got hooked on the first movie saw the second with a gaggle of tweenies who shrieked each time Jacob appeared half naked and realised that the third is just a little too sexual-innuendo filled for my liking. i sooo agree with the unhealthy relationship bit though i mean if my guy must disable my truck so i cant see my best friend he'll wish he were never born (dont mess with my baby)... needless to say i will see the fourth movie , both parts of it.

I Believe...

I believe in love... i believe in evolution: man, those dinosaurs were epic... i believe the chicken came before the egg... i believe we all have a purpose: I just haven’t found mine yet... I believe in never stepping on the cracks in the asphalt... I believe in life... I believe in death... I believe that death is a part of life... I believe in witches & wizardry... I believe in soul mates & true loves... I believe there is no ‘black & white’ about it all just the Technicolor my TV comes in... I believe that there is always two sides to every fence; you’re just stuck on one side... I believe in you

What is more Beautiful than Death?

The walk is slow, long and tedious. But none rush to get there faster. Tears flow in ceaseless err.

A loved one is gone… to laugh no more.
A life is done… to begin unknown.
Sorrow overcomes a world of joy.
A loved one is lost… to be found no more.
A life without cost… to the mound we go.

Reddened eyes and weakened smiles. The untimely passing a test for all to endure.
With legs of jelly we journey more, clutching at chests fearful and sore. The days have begun to melt into one. The never-ending nights when I felt you before I saw the sun. The picture perfect memories that're flashing before my eyes. The mighty gust of wind: to push you from my sight.

To rest… if only for a little while… to rest…

Picture Perfect Memories

Looking at my world through someone else’s eyes, it’s what you see me as. It’s your perspective of me and the world you find me in. but it’s not me… it’s a juxtaposition of angles, differentiation of light and nostalgia. It’s me in contrast to my surroundings.

Day in and day out we become strangers living in the shadows, unknown to each other. We’re fighting to stay relevant in an inadequate world. We stand on the side-lines to see it all fall apart.
My needs you can’t satisfy, let’s not play this all too familiar game of blame. We overcompensate to keep our heads high in the torrential rain. This world of lies we’ve created will kill us from within. Disregard the good because the bad out-weighs it all.

Back then I was naïve. I still am… and if I stay I’ll forever wonder what could have been. The ‘what-if’s’ will loop in my mind and I will forever be naïve.
My heart is on your sleeve… it’s yours… to do with as you please…

Re-dial

“I’m just a phone call away,” he whispered sweetly, kissing her forehead and chasing away her fears.
Each time the line would disconnect.

It’s just a ghost town of lights and swaying trees. A lonely man walks on the side of the street. In his hand he holds the hand of the one he lost. The ringing stops and a voice can be heard: “Your call could not be completed… The subscriber you have dialled no longer exists…”

The Voices in My Head...

The white walls no longer seem scary as I walk to find my next test subject.
My clipboard in hand I sit across from her. She stares off into oblivion and I have to shield my pitying face with my very own clipboard, it’s just the silly cardboard kind but it does the trick.
Taking a deep breath to compose myself I set my pen and clipboard silently on a low coffee table between us. Her hair is dishevelled and her clothes are miles too big, but I don’t think she has yet realised this, nor do I think does she know I am here.
“My name,” I begin slowly, “is Ms. Wonderland and I have a few questions to ask you,” I say gesturing to the clipboard. “May I begin?” she nods awkwardly at my question, leading me to proceed.
“Please state your name for the record,” she answers plainly with just two letters: NJ.
“You have made claims of hearing voices, are they just that or are they personalities? I mean is it just sounds and voices or do you believe they are entities created by your own mind?” I try to simplify and know I’ve failed.
“There is more than one,” she states and I’m led to believe she is more lucid than I first thought.
“Would you please elaborate,” I ask gesturing for her to continue.
“The first... I’m not sure of her name,” she quickly states as I nod pen poised over clipboard ready to jot down the names and personas of NJ’s inner psyche. “All I know is that she is the mother of Peter Rabbit, she’s very bossy. She keeps telling me to stay out of the farmer’s fields. She once tried grounding me for not listening to her mothering tales.
“The other is an insane French flower child, who is too wild for her own good or mine. She goes by the name Anony Mous and she keeps leading me down the paths closest to the farmer’s fields. But who could blame her when the farmer grows this herb that manages to make it all right. I think she takes advice from the voices in her own head.”
I sat pen still poised over clipboard, speechless at what this patient just revealed and stunned that as she spoke she mimicked all my movements (even the subtle ones) perfectly.

Happily (n)ever After

Did Cinderella and Prince Charming live happily ever after?

Did they learn to compromise?

Did she reprise her role as cleaner and house maid, cleaning up after him?

Did she live happily ever after by ditching his ass and finding true love?

Did they find their soul mates in each other?

Were they content to live with each others’ failings and learn to build each other up?

Did she take her knowledge of house tending and he his knowledge of princedom, combine it and build a life together that was uniquely theirs?

Did they learn how to make each other happy, how best to get the other to smile when life seemed to barrel at them?

Did she marry him just to escape her family?

Did he marry her just to show people that he could slum like the rest of them?

Did they lose themselves along the way?

Does happily ever after exist in real life or is it just ‘the stuff fairy tales are made of’?

Straight’s Not Always Great

So I was noticing a few constant idiocies in recent days... if its straight it’s great!
Here goes my rant: Straight up!
My naturally curly hair should not determine how professional I can be in the work place.
My sexuality preferences should not determine how my culture perceives me.
The waves on my shirt should not exclude my sense of style.
My lineally incorrect handwriting should not undermine my depth as a person.
And you know what: it does.
Your manner of logical thinking does not have to be mine too.
There are tons more ‘Straight vs. Me’ titbits but right now I can’t think of more. My brain’s the boss of me and she is screaming for sleep.

As I Search for a Revelation

I hate how time just stands still and rushes by all at once. What I am trying to say is: How long have I been here now? It feels like years but he hasn’t come back yet.
And they all went marching down to the ground to get out of the hole they had dug for themselves: dum-dum, dum-dum, dum-dum, dum-dum.
I’ll be the lantern guiding you there.
I wasn’t looking but you found me when I was too lost to know myself.

Dear Journal

It’s been a while since we’ve spoken. So I decided that I’d prefer t o tell you a little truth.
I don’t know what happened this weekend. All I remember was stopping the car in the middle of the heaviest traffic known to man and just bursting with tears.
I guess it was always there hiding in the background: cars- the weapons of mass destruction to the modern world.
But I would never want to harm anyone... except myself. I stopped cutting a long time ago, quit the drugs, but this just feels different. I know I’ll never actually do it but the idea is there growing in power and I am here growing in fear.
I’m sorry it must be pathological or something, but I am working on not believing my lies so readily.
I wonder how I would feel if this was actually true. No, I take that back: I’d never want to feel anything if an idea like that ever grew enough to be carried out.
Sorry again to have misled you. My truths these days are often twisted and fucked up.

QOTD

Yesterday I was a bookworm;
Today I’m just a waste of space &
Tomorrow I’ll be a wild child.

Some might say I’m dramatic but I’m just a darn good actress ready to take this world by storm.
Sometimes I think I’m crazy; this asylum isn’t just metaphorical. Its white-washed walls become iron bars trapping me inside. Its sealed windows threaten to keep me from fighting for freedom, for justice, for love. The smiles are fake, the sparkle glinting and popping off of eternally brightened teeth and their corresponding lies. Each pair of eyes that stare my way have dulled as their owners hide.
Some might say this is over-dramatic, but I’m just a damn good actress ready to take the world by storm. The stage is set and I await my applause…

The Homebody that flew from its perch

I get excited to go home because I know that’s where you are, even though you don’t come around anymore.
You look at me with darkened eyes, like you’re scrutinizing me and I flinch back because my soul should never be pried at in that manner.
You console but I’m a sceptic.
You control and I try to break free.
I can’t be me with your iron grip around my throat.
I lie and it hurts because I’ve learnt to turn my lies into truths... for my benefit only.
I can’t be what you want me to be because that’s not me.
I’m all choked up because I’m losing you. But I know deep down we were just wasting time... consuming oxygen... and faking the sparkle in our eyes for the birds and the bees.

Because Tomorrow Means Never

Today was meant to be a good day. It started out that way but I quickly realised how crappy it was, how pissed off I’d been all day. Peace-love-happiness me, pissed off?
All day long I could not put my finger on why I was angry. But just now as I heard the soft knock on my window and didn’t get excited as I would have a year ago, I realised what had me all pissed off. You.
A year ago today I was the happiest person alive...because of you. But right now I’m hiding from you... hiding from the lack of love we show each other. I know I should really face my fears... face you but I guess it could wait another day or so, right?
Now I am safe inside a world I’ve created. With earphones in ears and iPod on shuffle, with just a tiny candle illuminating this world... I’m safe and happy again...
...till it’s just you and me again.

Careless carefree me

Prologue

The uniformed woman stared questioningly and I didn't blame her. I knew I looked a sight, standing there with my small suitcase, ticket, passport and frightened eyes. "Would you like me to check your luggage?" she asked sweetly and I smiled as I nodded yes. I could feel the fear slipping away. I knew in my heart that I was making the right decision. My escape was... I wasn't really sure about what to expect. I knew this whole thing could blow up in my face or it could be the start of something extraordinary. I was praying for extraordinary. I only breathed after my passport was checked and my luggage was crawling away on the conveyor. "It's going to be better that okay," I kept reassuring myself as my mind dwelled on other things. I hated thinking of that time.

It's been two years and some months since I packed that bag with four peace-sign t-shirts, two pairs of blue jeans, my favourite blue hoodie and the tiniest jewellery box, three of my favourite books, my laptop and a few mismatched underwear items and boarded a plane heading for New York. I couldn't contain my excitement the minute my black Chucks touched down on American soil, I mean concrete.

I always refer to it as 'my great escape', but you might think of it as running away, you'd be dead right. I did run, they say admittance is always the first step. I just didn't know what I was running from or what I was running to.

Aubergine dreams & Zucchini screams

I waste my time in buildings that once were packed but only hold ghosts & glass barricades, where people transform into mannequins & pillars. This world of brick closes in on me. I’m the only one here but I know I’m not alone. The shutters that keep out now imprison a world in caverns of cotton & gold.
Every letter screams my name severing my hold on indifference as someone plucked the rainbow from the sky, squished the colours to make this point unscary. But I know what it hides: bars, shackles & restraints.

Tandem teenage hearts on a string

You wanna know what hurts the most? Hmm? It’s when you put your heart out there and nothing else. So you’d think, right? You’re wrong. What hurts the most is when you put your heart in the hands of someone you love and there’s just no reciprocation, because he doesn’t love you enough.
Would a smile grace your lips when I publicly accept that? Would that smile brighten your eyes when I refuse to acknowledge it in the haunts of my bloodless/loveless heart?
I give up. I’ll throw in the towel... today the last of me has been given. You’ve wanted the rest but here’s the best for your enjoyment and earthly pleasure.
I guess this really is goodbye...
I’ve put my hole heart in this and now I’m wearing my heart on my sleeve trying to cover up the scars my fears have left behind.
So long... goodbye.

Gloom-day-Cookies

When is it okay to quit... to raise the white flag... to surrender the sword... to stop the fight... to accept that the end is near?
When is it okay to gather the sheet... to lay it over what once was... what will cease to be?
Accept the fate?
Deny humanity?
Cross our hearts and hope to die?

“...So I say thank you for the music... the words I’m writing...”

My contemplation right now is whether to name everybody by name or band or most prominent literary work to date.
I have had so many inspiring people in my life as of late. Be it in day to day living or through a song that got me to sleep after my nightmares stole the blissful hours from me. Or like the complaints of a customer in a check-out line or some wacky TV commercial or a touching moment between loved ones. Or the times i had my heart broken (which seemed to be all the time).
But really I want to thank all those who’ve helped me, skimmed at these, laughed at them or even with them, screamed at anything I’ve ever posted (because I really can’t write and it frustrates the hell out of you that I seem to never take the lack of comments as a hint at that), hated that almost every sentence is either disjointed or it begins with ‘And’. If you’ve ever had a ‘wow moment’ I really am sorry I didn’t mean to let that happen. And if you’ve never got my sarcasm then you’re a real trooper for even starting to read any passage, text, paragraph or simple word I’ve allowed to slip past me. To the pushy and undaunted- thank you if you had never ‘peer pressured’ me into anything I would have become a turtle stuck forever in its shell (but I still don’t believe in peer pressure and I will always be glad for you and I really do want peace- now I just feel like ‘Gracie Lou Freebush ‘).
I apologise to those who never understood anything I forced out of my pen, to those who misconstrued my meanings... not everything was about me (it rarely is). Don’t worry half the time I don’t get it either.
Did anybody realise how badly I ramble. I clearly never make sense and yes I did once reference “making cents”. I love to break rules: hello! I start sentences with the word ‘And’ like always. I suck as a suckish-rebel and I can’t spell or spell-check, but I’m a dreamer it’s just that at times of blissful inspiration I never seem to get the ideas out of my head (or heart) exactly as I had imagined them to be. And I don’t care about that.
So thank you for reading, commenting and inspiring. And for you who never have read anything by little ol’ me, thank you anyway.
This is by no means ‘good-bye’. None of this was ever meant to be seen; I just needed to back up my ‘stuff’ after my hard-drive decided to through in the towel the first time. I am not about attention grabbing, I just wanted to say thank-you and I truly appreciate your attention.
(As with every fanfic I’ve ever read or written, I clearly don’t own any of the bands, their songs, the poets, their poems, the authors, their books, the oxford English dictionary... but i do own the notepad I bought and the pencils I’ve had since my brother noticed them go missing from his school stuff- when he still was in school- and not forgetting my ‘life’ or to those who don’t know me well, my beloved laptop.)
Last but not least: God, my parents, my friends , JJ, Lynn and everyone else forgotten, you guys have been there for me when I didn’t think I would or could survive or for just scaring me senseless enough to remember that I’m not alone, never was and never will be.
Thank you for letting me express my own opinion in a world that could care less.
Love Linzay (njinwonderland).
Ps...Apparently I don’t even own the pencils I stole from my brother JJ. –NJ

“The world will never do...”

We’re inspired by the weirdest strangest things. And I love it.
She said “say what you want, say what you need” ...some love and happiness to make this world spin a little faster, please.
But seriously now, what has gotten into everyone lately? We’re just all so ready to though in the towel.
We live in a hater nation.
I thought you cared but it seems I have no problem with lying to myself. My world came crashing down, weighing on my little shoulders. You’re blind if you can’t see the pain you constantly inflict and you’re smiling through it all.
Harden your heart and pretend nothing ever happens because red doesn’t come close to what I’m seeing. My chest burns at what you’ve done. The ‘H’ word threatens to slip past my last defences.
You never cared that you were shoving me down to pull yourself up.
Your terror reign ends with me because I won’t throw in the towel.

“...Like calm in place of clamour, like peace that follows pain...”

“Long live the car crash hearts...”

The sun shines through the rain but not through my tears. You know I’ll support you no matter how many times you break my shattered heart. Thank you for allowing me the pleasure of experiencing all the bad days... now please make them stop.
We’re as close as the blood in my veins as my heart makes quick work of love, life, me.

Here, see the cracks in my facade. Decisions were made whether good or bad. We have to see them through and live with the consequences, the hate mail and the teeny emotions.

Sometimes I just want to scream, “Look at me, look at me,” but no one listens so they don’t.
So we go slow and now here we stand stuck in the motions... let’s go sailing on the oceans.

“...Our hearts beat for the diehards...”

“...Oh, if you ask me I will see this through...”

“I want an old time love... nothing else is good enough,” I sing along. It’s still except for the radio and my terrible singing. Silence is golden, oh so golden when stolen from quiet lips.
“... Nothing else is g-g-good enough,” I sniffle wiping at moist eyes. My voice is coated with tears and I try to push away every contemptuous thought suffocating me. I’m wondering if this is life or just my nightmares playing on a loop.
Try? I might.
Succeed? Not quite.
A hand pauses on my shoulder, a finger wipes away a tear and a deeper voice whispers low: “try to succeed...” I smile.
Why the hell not!
You’re so right!

The Treacherous Transparent Fight

The brisk currents pull me close, close to the wave’s core: the crashing water splashing over my head. I’m afraid of what I might find, what might happen.
Slowly and then ever faster the crashing ceases and water rushes by. My form drenched I trudge deeper and deeper trying desperately to keep pace with the rushing... I’m only human. Man can try, but never beat the odds.
With every step I take the wind whispers softly in my ear telling tales of long lost heroes: Heroes of old. Tales whispered so sweetly. The tears spill from my eyes or is it just the rain pouring from the sky?

The sky so dark and yet so light, is grey as night. The wind no longer to be heard- all is calm. I still move; further, deeper. Wave’s crash against my shivering form: it’s cold, so cold... I cannot give up now. Still I move as bursts of waves push me against, above and below brisk currents. Desperately I try to keep my feet firmly in the sand.

I just need the water to bury me. Take me under and cover my naked body in its watery heat. “Protect me from all evil, please,” I beg as I am taken down. My knees are forced beneath me, my eyes close and my mouth involuntarily opens- I am calm. I fight. The current pushes me up, but I force myself down. I fight.

Washing over me I feel different... new. Am I? Will I ever be? No. Do I ever want to be? It would just be easier to allow the crashing to continue over my head. To wipe away all my fears, my sorrows, to make me new, clean, whole.

We’ve got to want what we need and need what we want. I want the water to push me down to bury me, but most of all I need to be burned by the water. Allow the pressure... succumb to it.

But our wants are no longer important it’s the needs that count to make love exist enough to make this world go round to make happiness abound so that we stop trying to drown our hearts.

...As Truth Instead of Lies

I’ve already believed in dreams coming true, in magic and in white unicorns. Those myths and fables are the treasures of my heart.
It’s weird you always think it’s the little kids and their imaginary friends who believe. They’re able to experience things we no longer care to. Their childlike faith and ability to believe allows imaginations to run wild.

And I could really care less that my left shoe doesn’t match my right as long as I’m with you. And I could care less that my eye lids are heavy because we don’t keep normal humanoid hours if it means we get to be together. So un-expose your heart and re-focus the lens. Shoot. Rethread the needle and stitch it to my sleeve. This world is devoid of love. So please get some freaky science dudes in white lab coats together to reinvent love the way it should be.

Your every footfall is mirrored by my every step as you hold me close and we dance to the flickering lights. I breathe you in and make a self-centred vow: I’m gonna try to be generic for just one day, then for every after I will always be me, the dreamer with the pet unicorn- the one you love.

I’d already believed in dreams coming true, in you, in love I just didn’t think I’d get to experience it all at once.

Wish upon a silver star... the only lights in the dark...

Night had come fulfilling its habitual cycle. The sky freckled with glamorous stars, lighting the path. Silently trudging along, fearful for what she had done.
Escape! She’d taken what could never be hers. Regret filled her heart. “...Should’ve grabbed all possible bits of evidence,” she scolded herself. She walked on, increasing her pace.
“...At this very moment all hell could be breaking loose. Shit, fuck, shit,” she swore loudly knowing the cat would be out of the proverbial bag by now. Her brain screamed for her to make a run for it, but her every extremity became leaden.
She needed to turn back, to confess, she knew it with every beat of her heart. “...Confess to what, he deserved everything he got,” she spoke louder this time and then whispered a quick ‘Hail Mary’ while fingering her black Rosary with nervous tentative hands. She stroked her favourite piece of jewellery once more, admiring its colour. Black the most sinful colour, the nuns would be ashamed.
But she didn’t feel safe though...

Back in Time

The candle flickers, the flame low.
Oh how soon death comes.
Darkness has gathered round us.
Oh for a penny and a smile...

So take a deep breath and
See the world outside.
Life’s so over-rated, but
It’s cool when you’re in
The swing of things...
And all eyes are on you and me.

The Prison

Is it humane to ignore the screams of a woman bound, as her husband -a man she trusted for the better part of a decade, loved more than she did herself- bloodied his fists with every thrust at her face? He was killing her, physically, emotionally and mentally; he found satisfaction in the breaking of her bones and her soul.
I hid behind the closed door. I couldn’t stand the pain she endured, her cries caused my heart to crack, but I knew it ‘wasn’t my business’, I knew it because that’s what I’d forced myself to believe each time he got too angry. So I closed the door, closed my ears, closed my mouth, closed my eyes, closed my head off and closed my heart.
I could still sense her fears with every whimper and every intake of breath. I still heard his curses at her, his names of love: “whore, bitch, and cunt”. My blood boiled and I forced shaky fingers to turn the key in the lock, sealing me in.
The beat of drums, the screech of guitars and the sweet sound of melodic voices intertwined as it poured out of my headphones, forming a wall between me and the carnage the wife endured.
“P-p-please s-s-stop it,” I heard her pleas through my barricade. I even held my breath as he promised his love and sealed it with a resoundingly painful slap on bare flesh.
Surprisingly I could already hear her ’explanations’ as to the purple-tinged class-ring imprint on the apple of her cheek, the ‘it-was-all-my-fault’s’, the blustering, the quiet voice, the screaming eyes, the nightmarish shouts and the cold sweats. The blatant lying... to herself and those who love her.
I could see the pain of an all too willing housewife. I could see the bruising and all I had to do was to stare into a mirror as I tried to smooth the concealer over my new ‘love mark’!

The fighting depressions...

She felt tainted, like she was broken. She tried desperately not to think of how empty inside she was. She knew all it took was seeing his face, hear his voice, or even just hear his name spoken aloud for her resolve to disappear.
She knew how easy it would be to break down the walls she hid behind. How much emotion she was learning to suppress. She knew it wouldn’t be too long before her best friends realised all of this and left her the same way he did. But worst of all, she knew she wasn’t just lying to her friends, family and loved ones, she was lying to herself and she felt guilty. But that was that. “Lie to yourself,” she whispered to her reflection in the bathroom mirror. “Forget the only way you know how,” she said jabbing a finger at the mirror. “Life needs to go on,” she yelled at the closed bathroom door as she fought to escape its grasp.
She followed the sound of music till she came to a dance floor packed with too drunk people. She thought about heading over to the bar, thought better of it and decided to join the over-heated mass of bodies on the dance floor.