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♥ precious.
la bella vita;

Cara

loves: black and white photography. poetry. vintage stores. thunderstorms. good ambience. fairytales. disneyworld. black kohl and fuschia lipstick. red and purple skittles. turquoise beads. icing but not cakes. might-have-beens. the dandy warhols. within temptation. automatic loveletter. mediaeval baebes. troy. interview with a vampire. the oc. making 11:11 wishes. purple glitter. mermaids. my-little-ponies. magic.

expertise: melodramaticks. eyeliner. laughing. goodbyes. hanging in there.

♥ music on, world off.
shh.

soundtrack to life.

♥ scream(?).
live.

♥ past .
instant time travel

December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
May 2009
June 2009
July 2009
August 2009
September 2009
October 2009
November 2009
December 2009
January 2010
February 2010

♥ adieu .
set them free

AMANDA
ANDRE
ASH
DEB
ELEMM
07IP04!
08IP04!
JOSH
KAT
LISA
QIU
RENJEAN


♥ credits .
thankyouverymuch

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Monday, November 10, 2008
hello, old friend. 7:15 AM


I get dangerous when I'm around
emotions.


last night
after finishing Tristan And Isolde
I went into a manic kind of frenzy.
I don't know what triggered it but I went over the edge
just looking for a turquoise pendant that meant a lot to me a long time ago.

flung one, three, four, all closet doors open
dropped to my knees and started rummaging through the shelves,
fingernails pulling apart used paper bags and ripping into their contents
blindly batting at the dust devils that rose like miniature sandstorms
and all the while the silent, desperate moan of "please, please, please..." rising higher in my throat like the sound dying ships make as they sink into the waves

one hour later
found me sitting amidst a pile of old trinkets from half-forgotten friends and old dusty plastic bags and bits of plastic
but no pendant
with my eyes and nose streaming from the allergies/tears/both?
buried my face in my dusty hands and sobbed dry heaving sobs that terrified me
the one physical thing I had left to remind me of them
and i'd lost it. presumably forever.

glanced up into the mirror
and whoever called that girl pretty must have had another think coming
the girl in the glass was no beauty queen
was no spoilt suburban princess,
fingers stained grey tracks down tear-swollen black-rimmed lids
hands hanging limply like dead men in nooses
looked into her eyes and knew that she had lost
something that had meant
everything
to her.

fingers shivered over phone buttons like drunken dancers =
"oh, sweetheart. you miss him? have you talked to him lately?"
"no, he's dead"
and the finality of this rings through my head again and again and again...

hang up and half-slither, boneless, against the wooden floor.
i get up the courage to rise to my knees again
to start searching again
and this time i can barely see what i am tearing through,
i am shaking so hard.
my lips move over the two lost (but always loved, but always loved) names like they are sacred scripture
repeating them over and over in some dazed droning chant
as if by doing this some divine light would shine down through my lavender walls
and say "see, child, the pendant was here all along"
or better, even better;
"...we are here. we are here and we love you and we never left you
we are here and we will not leave you and we're sorry we made you cry
please don't cry
stop, just stop, please

stop."

so then i
freeze for a moment to register what i must look like from the outside
(a stark raving lunatic)
and start laughing and crying, wash rinse repeat,
because in this moment, i realize that i might very possibly
be going crazy.

at this point: still no pendant
but my fingers are closed around a little white stone i found
that was my wishing stone when i was smaller.
i've got one wish and it's the one wish that no magic stone could ever make come true
because granite can't bring dead people to life
and pebbles don't find you the people you lost somewhere along the way
but somehow the little white stone in my hand comforts me;
even as i sit back on my haunches surveying the room i turned upside down in my frenzy
even as the mania freezes over, summer popsicle in reverse,
and the white noise that has been screaming in my head dims to a tolerable thread seesawing through an old hollow wound,
dims to the dull little ache
that everyone who has lost someone must feel.

in the growing clarity i can hear myself think again
and in my head a small voice is saying:
this is it.
there is no pendant here, and they are gone, and they're not coming back.
and this hurts but there is no burn.

suddenly the brightness goes out of everything
and i am tired, so tired.
fifteen minutes later i pull myself into bed and drag the covers over my shoulders
fall asleep with the wishing stone held tightly in my palm
(but not as tightly as i would have held Them if They were still with me)

the world is a big place and it is easy to lose people you love
i don't believe in what all the songs say, that you should let them fly
because what if they pull an Icarus and go too close to the sun and
die?

no, i believe that when you've found someone;
when you love someone,
and i mean really, really love someone
you should hold on tight and never let go

because the world is a big place and it is easy to lose people you love

take it from someone who knows.