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.