~

The curser hovered over a name half way down the list of contacts on facebook then the little green light went out and the laptop lid slammed shut.  She dragged her self over to the light switch and turned the light on for when she returned to the room.  The orange light fought off the blue hue in the kitchen barely succeeding.  She just stood in the center of the room confused until a sudden shadow danced along the wall causing her all of a sudden to switch back on and reboil the kettle.

She began hyper functioning placing the tea bag ready in the cup before washing the days of unwashed dishes piled high around the place.  She seemed to realize after finishing drying the last of the cutlery she managed to go through about 4 cups of tea in an hour to do that lot.   Agitated, she ran upstairs and rummaged under her bed for a shoe box lodged near the very back between a half deflated basket ball and a large collection of cobwebs.  She hugged it as she ran back down stairs to the light and poured the contents all over the floor.

She sifted through the old photos, badges and a small figured to find a folded up letter with a blue bow tied round it.  She held it close to her chest as she slumped to the floor.  Her fingers caressed the ends of the frayed fibers.

Time moves far to quickly sometimes and with out meaning to people get left behind.  Sometimes its the very best of people not because you meant to leave them behind but you don't want to bother them and they the same.

She tugged at the end of the satin allowing the letter to unfold before her.

"Jade,
You are truely brilliant.   You're gorgeous and so sweet.  You're always there for me no matter what.
You're ughasfghysbuibaodsuhqosph.  I love you lots.
You don't force me to be happy or to... stop doing the things that I shouldn't.  You're a perfect friend :)
You Shouldn't be sad, ever.  You're brilliant.
                        I love you Fufffuff
    So smile! I'm always here. :) Can't rain all the time and I have an umbrella until it stops :3
Stacy xxx"

She retraced the word always as tears streamed down her face.  Sometimes when you want to go back I suppose start at the beginning to simpler times but it had been 5 years since Jade and Stacy had last spoken and even longer since they had last met.   She sifted through the photographs separating any with Stacy in once she had collected 20 she took them to her room along with the letter and began blue-tacking them in the space above her head stroking each little memory as it passed through her fingers.  

When she finished she began writing a letter she knew she had no intention of sending, no need to dreadge up old memories for both of them.

"Oh deary I miss you like you wouldn't believe.  I thought you might be like everyone else who I would just forget and move on from but after all this time I can't let you go.  Oh look at this soppy mess I am writing its awful isn't it.
I think you always knew how I felt about you I just suppose things happened at a bad time when we would inevitably move in different directions.
I hope you are OK and I hope who ever you are with now is treating you well.
It's a shame to see the pictures of you with brown hair on facebook when you had blue hair it made your eyes shine so bright, and well that was just creepy wasn't it but I mean you know me.  Well you don't I suppose not anymore... but I wish you did... I wish I still knew you.
Out of everyone I ever met you managed to shine the brightest.
I suppose... I should finish this little letter up not much to say when I know you will never read it in the end anyway.
I love you Stacy I hope you managed to keep your self safe and found other people to protect you who did a better job than me
     With love from your Fufffuff <3"

Jade walked down stairs with the letter and closed it with the same blue ribbon and  piled everything else back into the box and placed the letter neatly in between a figure of death made of metal and the cardboard of the box before returning the box to its rightful place at the back underneath her bed.  She came back to her laptop calmer and more empty than she was before but anything was an improvement on how she had felt.  She opened the lid and typed in "blueandgreenqueens".  Even though times had changed it was always to much effort to change her password, though painful it was nice to hold on to it.  When she saw Stacy was back online she felt at ease... almost as though she might be thinking of times they had shared to.

Jade placed the laptop next to her to go make a final brew for the night.  Hidden under the sounds of the bubbling kettle was a small beep from in the living room.

Some text popped up at the bottom of the scream under a heading of " Stacy "boobless" Parkinson":

Hey, I know its been a long time and you probably barely even remember me but I am coming back to visit some family and well I will be near by if you fancy me popping round for some coffee or something I know it sounds a bit odd coming from no where but I have missed you a lot and well I just thought it would be nice.. So what do you think?

Liam Left Alone

This covers a lot of topics which might be close to home to people and slightly graphic... (if its offensive its James' fault he told me to put it up here)

He found there where many ways to destroy himself in that foreign house. Everyone was out so what would it matter and sure his girlfriend later would cry again if he left a mark but she was working so scarless methods are available. With in a 6 hour shift, he could have bought more alcohol than any normal person could handle and down it and lie and let the world spin round him for a while. Take every pill labelled or not in that tempted plastic box in the cabinet in the bathroom.

He lead in her bed paralyzes by the fears of what he could do if he moved from that spot. He thought of how well his and her body fit together as though they where perfect although he wanted it all to change. He tried to talk to her many times about becoming who he felt he was becoming Liam once and for all rather than just pretending from time to time while outside away from people they knew but he was met with the brutal response of “I AM ONLY ATTRACTED TO WOMEN STOP IT! I love you but I can't love you if your like that”.

Liam tossed over onto his side and curled up and tugged at his long brown hair grew far beyond his breasts.

He kept two razor blades in the back of his phone just in case, sometimes it was enough to just place the metal strips on his thighs and imagine what he could do but some times it wasn't enough. As his neck began to throb from being placed in an awkward position he dragged him self up reached for his phone. After glancing at the lack of messages he went to the mirror and lifted up his shirt and stumbled as his fingers fidgeted with the small pressure pad at the back of the phone. He noticed how silent it had been previous to the two blades jingling as they fell to the floor and instantly put on Boys Don't Cry by the cure setting it to repeat.

He looked into the mirror and saw everything that was wrong with his shape. The hips, the breasts, the lack of muscle growing around his stomach no matter how much weight he tried to put on at best when he tensed his he felt them under a layer of fat that would not leave. Reaching for the blades his hand steadied. “at least it heals quickly there” he whispered.

As quick as a flash the blade slid across the lower half of his breast. “NOT GOOD ENOUGH!” he screamed as he watched the shadow fill up with blood and over flow. He repeated the previous gesture again and again until he could see no uncut tissue remaining on that side that could not be covered by his bra. He noticed the blood trickle down his tummy and so he shimmied his jeans and boxers down to avoid any blood stains. The situation became slightly more real.

He quickly walked to the toilet grabbing a roll of toilet paper and returning to the mirror. He mopped up the blood whimpering “stupid girl”.

The bleeding subsided and he felt brave enough to pull the soaked paper away to see the damage noticing his hair had blood on it. Possibly not his smartest move he grabbed it and cut it off with the blade leaving an average of two inches in length of hair. He shook as he noticed the length to which he had gone but it was calming to see it gone and lying on the floor around him.

Some how it was 16:47 and there where only 4 hours until She should be back. He looked around for scissors to neaten of what he had started until he felt he looked more like himself rather than like her. He looked at the mess he had made and rushed around cleaning it up as quickly as he could then returning to the mirror and sighed as despite his efforts he still wasn't there yet. He routed through his bag for a darker bra and placed it over the cuts hiding them perfectly.

Liam continued to dress before running his fingers through his hair realizing Beth would want some fun later and how could he explain it. He could always just pull the period card it usually worked.

He went downstairs to wonder through the kitchen for a while and try and find food. In the end he warmed up a couple of pasties some onion rings and two chicken keives in the oven and swallowed them down quickly. He noticed how the calm aura he had built before had left. He had far to much fat already because that's what female bodies have fat around the hips and on the thighs and on the chest. He grabbed a glass of water gulping it down with out taking a breath in the hope that he would feel nausius and it worked. He ran to the bathroom but nothing so Liam began to force his fingers further and further down his thought until he would cough up mucus but still no food. Eventually he tried stretching his fingers out down the back of his throught and all of a sudden food irrupted from his mouth it tasted rather fresh as though it was just cooked and still warm from his insides. He kept going until nothing more would leave him. There was a thrill in it all. Light headed Liam pulled him self up and flushed the toilet cleaned his fingers and teeth.

He returned to his loves bed, his eyes leaked but he ignored it.

Liam rightly supposed he was safe now and it disappointed him. He lead on the bed for a few more minuets before working out a plan and plucking up the courage to execute it. He grabbed the spare keys after throwing his bag over his shoulder. Walked to the first store and bought the bottle that would be his salvation. Then continued walking into town and in every next shop buying a box of paracetamol though in two ibuprofen where the best that he could do then returned with an hour or so remaining. First packet was empty rather quickly with no aid but the further he got through the boxes the more vodka each pill took to wash down. Feeling sick and light headed he crawled to the bathroom banging his head and occasionally vomiting until he fell unconscious.   

The Land Of The Up-Theres

"The secret history of the world is a rude gesture in the face of the know-it-alls who make up our intellectual elite, the control freaks who would decide what is acceptable for us all to think and believe "  
      -Preface of The Secret History of The World by Jonathan Black

I ponder about the land of the up

While playing with my coffee cup,

All those doctors and nurses

So far up their own asses,

Even the check out staff think I’m inferior

because of my shy and quiet exterior.

They might ask me what I do

I say “Physics and maths too”

And all of a sudden they turn I am one of them now

“Oh well you must be smart, Wow!”

How do those subjects make me intelligent?

What makes them think I care for their acknowledgement

They look down because we are not they

But I would rather be seen as someone with nothing to say

Or at least nothing worth while hearing

Than be someone who’s vision is disappearing

Blind to what is before them

So worthy or not they condemn

Or worse ignore what they don’t want to believe.

I can’t work out if they’re ignorant or naive,

Maybe it’s my fault for looking in the undergrowth,

Seeing the darker places causes a deep loath.  

For those who would consider equality immoral

and that capitalism causes less quarrel,

Well I very much agree

The down-theres can’t afford the key

While the up-theres swagger around

and the think-they’re-up-theres continue to astound

They think they are so amazing

Getting payed for patronizing

I suppose I don’t see what makes them tick

How can they act like that and not make them self sick?

I wonder if I am alone in thinking this...

I guess I should shut up and go back to staring into the abyss.

It feels like the clouds are returning day by day

and it seems poems are the only way I can portray

the aching and throbbing inside my head,

so why should I care what has been said?

Sure, I am selfish I am glad you realized,

about time someone else critizised

the way I have been behaving as of late

staring into space as I sit and wait.  

"Wait for what?" you might question

Well a way to deal with things apart from suppression.

I am pretty miserable when I am sat alone

and it doen’t get much better when I randomly roam

but at least people think it made it better

though in reality it just made me more bitter.

Where ever I look sadness lies

but people still emphasis:

“STOP BEING SO MISSERABLE”

They forget I am not adaptable

So I grit my teeth and punch a wall

Hoping it might make the bad thoughts stall

Then hide away from everyone numb

Popping away with my chewing gum.

I guess this is farewell to planet125
Where my mind again thrived
Got back thrills I haven't felt in a while
even though I first went as a trial
I didn't know I could actually write
So when I got praise for my work it brought delight
My favorite part was making something people enjoyed
While with Stanzas and rhyme schemes I toyed

It was weird, it brought great highs and lows
All the while the poems showed my woes
Thank you guys for being the highlight of my week
Though I don't think I really speak
But in the end there where a few meows and the occasional dance
And that apple pie I brought by chance
Thank you for letting me read your work to
But I guess this really is adeiu

<3

Its stupid that I am nervous

Now I have finally found a purpose

Even though its stupid and premature

And I act rather immature.

It's not only that I can barely talk

Or I get shy and stumble when I walk.

But it's stupid you made me smile

For what feels like the first time in a while,

Though time is running out,

In all honesty I have a lot of doubt

But I will grab hold of any happiness I can get

Rather than live a life of regret.

I am going to take every single smile

Bottle that happiness and run a mile

I will try and be your friend and see if you agree

Even if this thing in my head is just me.

So in this final month of may

I will act like me and see what you say.

It's silly, it was like the world collapsed,

If I am honest actually relapsed,

But you where there with light harted fun

Maybe you can be my motivation to get my work done

On the worst days I will imagine your face

and maybe a warm embrace

things are to weird I suppose for it to ever be more

Just knowing you is a joy. What more could I ask for?

Friend with two names

The needle slid in to my soon to be friend,

I placed out some buttons to lend

for this creature yet to be named

with uneven stitching causing the illusion of being maimed.

With in every stitch was a memory,

I added a felt heart so he could live his own story. 

I could tell he was a bit fan of rainbows as me

When he was finished I cuddles him with glee.

Kim named him Bob, Nicola named him Jeffry

At a later date Nick named his own Bobfry.

We have been through a lot my sock teddy and I,

I’ve cuddles him so much his face looks like a permanent sigh.

I made most of my friends their own with coloured felt hearts

though bad sewing technique caused two to fall apart.  

His smile though is something that is still a worry,

maybe I finished him off with to much of a hurry.

I can stretch it to a smile bigger than I have ever seen

but it always returns to a frown that mouth of blue and green.

Maybe if I choose my own name for him

maybe it would make his aura less grim.

Letter From Che Guevara's mother to a friend

While helping out at open evening I found this book with a load of ideas of stories and things to write.   One of them was to write about Argentina in 1932 involving a tea cup... I sort of managed it apart from its more like 1940 and mentioned tea rather than a tea cup but I tried right?

I feel I should say Ernesto is Che Guevara's real first name Che was a used as a common reference to Argentinians that just sort of stuck when he was older.  

Oh also I have made a blog for my writing and stuff if anyone is interested in reading anything on it, so far it is mostly what I have also put on here.  Anyway here http://josiedoodlesandscribbles.tumblr.com/

I knew he would struggle drinking it but he did insist on drinking tea. His asthma is improving and I think he might be well enough to go back to school in a few days. I have got him reading Victor Hugo's Hunchback of Notre dame in the oringal French. He loves the book, the idea of such social inequality seems to speak to him. Though I don't like to admit it he has been well looked after by me and my husband and I think the book inspired him to do rather annoying things like giving his clothes away, he always has the best of intentions but it is hard to keep him sometimes under control.

This may sound weird and it's not that all my children aren't brilliant it's just that I suppose I spend more time looking after him and there's a bit of a spark in him.   Maybe it's because he is the oldest, seen more of the world so I see more from him.  I have never seen such keen emphasis on equality from someone so young.

It's been hotter here than its been for a while its probably why he has been off so much. I am considering taking him away from his book to go through some maths with him. Sometimes I think I push him more than he would be if he was at school but it is good for him.

I think some of his friends who work in at the sugar plantation are coming today. I think think I might make something a bit extravagant for them. I wish I felt I could do something to make a difference. I look around and despite being of a Spanish background rather than Indian I still see the rich get richer and the poor get poorer. I don't think the divide can continue much longer. I know it is dangerous to speak of such things but I feel we need change.  I don't want my children growing up with so many people with so little. I know they will do well and they don't seem to me the type to get warped by propaganda but they are only children.

Do tell me what it is like in Chilli, I really want to travel but I feel it's a little late to start thinking of such things especially with how we keep jumping around to keep Ernesto's asthma at bay.

I hope your letter comes sooner next time, either you took months to write it or they have been searching through our post. I don't trust the government if I am honest particularly yours and if this is enough for them to come after me so well be it.   

Just herd a knock at the door so I think I better finish the letter.  Hope to hear from you soon

Lots of love,

Celia

Script Thing-a-ma-jig

(Tasha Sniffs white powder set up in lines when John walks in on her doing so)

John: WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!

Tasha: What? Nothing.

John: YOUR NOSE!

Tasha:... I just have a cold is all

(she wipes her nose on a tissue and attempts to stands but stumbles before giving her brother full eye contact

How did you get in anyway? I thought I locked the door.

John: I got in because I opened it I want a piss. Please don't tell me you are doing what I think you are doing.

Tasha: Why What do you think I am doing

(looses eye contact and puts her hand on the door ready to escape)

John: You weren't taking...

(Tasha interrupts)

Tasha: Hahahaha of course not god your way over protective

(attempts to open door but pushes instead of pulls)

John: Your a mess just stay here sit down let me get you some water

(John leaves. When alone Tasha slides back to the floor and cries and sways to calm her self. John returns with water)

Her you go sip at that. What happened... I thought you might be struggling but I never knew you were getting this bad. Please don't cry

(John attempts to hugs his sister but he stumbles to the floor as he is rather drunk and strocks her hair to calm her)

Tasha: I am sorry.... I just....

John: Please you can tell me

Tasha: I don't want you to be ashamed of me

John: Why would I do that? Your my sister I love you.

(Tasha hides her face with her hands)

Please tell me what is wrong so I can try and fix it.

Tasha: You know how you and Melissa grew up with dad?

John: Yes..?

Tasha:... and you knew she drank

John yes that's why dad left her

Tasha: It doesn't matter.. I am just stressed I suppose

(Tasha laughs it off)

John: NO don't do that to me I have been worried about you for months and you wont say anything to me please just let me in please just let me help you.

Tasha: I am just tired of failing you

John: You don't fail me I am so proud of you

Tasha: Are you kidding me? You have a proper job I am just a waitress who is 1 day off from getting sacked and the worst part is I don't even care... I don't care about any of this I just...

(She stroked the plectrum her father gave her around her neck)

John: What where you going to say about mum?

Tasha: Nothing

John: please.. please don't lie.

(Tasha tries to push him off and move away from him)

Tasha: Please can you go I want to be sick

John: I will hold your hair back for you

Tasha: NO I don't feel sick I want to be sick I need to be sick I just... Please go I need to just go leave me alone I don't need help I am fine

John: I am not leaving you while your like this... does Tarran know how you have been acting you wanting to... be sick?

Tasha Of course he doesn't

(begins to tug at her hair to relieve the stress)

There is nothing for him to know

(She smiles while tears stream down her face)

John: I am not leaving you. I care about you please tell me what happened with mum.

Tasha: nothing she drank she got angry

John: and then?

Tasha: and then?

John: did she.. She didn't hurt you did she

Tasha: I dunno.. I suppose yeah she did... but it I mean it wasn't often

John:... what about that time you broke your collar bone?

Tasha: No that time I was just jamming to S.O.A.D. at the top of the stairs and fell.

(John stairs at her and waits for her to crack)

I promise I am fine.

(she crawls to the toilet and kneels in front of it and she can conveniently no longer see Johns gaze. She remains there for a minuet and neither say anything)

SCENE CHANGE

(Tasha is age 14. (muted sound) Her mother grabbing her by the shoulder and shouting at her for not turning the amplifier down and drags her with her bass around her shoulder from her room to the top of the stairs. Tasha is crying but doesn't respond or fight bag she just tries to pull of the bass in case anything happens to it but doesn't manage it before she gets a shove and looses her balance and falls down the stairs)

SCENE CHANGE

(Back to the bathroom where Tasha proceeds to make her self throw up. John Notices to late for him to stop her and so now cries over his lost little sister)

Tasha: see all better now all that alcohol out of my system I am completely better

John: It wasn't the alcohol I was worried about

(he takes her hand and pulls her to her feet)

Come on your going home

Tasha: NO I am having fun OK?

(she pulls her arm away)

I am going downstairs and I am going to have a good time

(she wipes her mouth clean of the remaining vomit and mucus and opened the door)

Go have your god damn piss!

.

What are you doing? Why aren't you smiling?
No one wants to see you cry darling.
I know the worlds a bitch
But your nationality is not something you can switch.
Sure you struggle to conjure a convocation
Apart from this lack of a "nation"
And how words can't satisfy your frustration,
With air born poisons and water fluoridation...
But your a no one so you buy your dept,
You go to work to sell your soul despite you never slept,
As its your role as a "Citizen" to forget or accept
Your governments lies, that crept
From propaganda from before you where born.
This is your life its futile to express scorn
While your box in the corner flashes images of war and porn,
Making you question what is right your mind is now torn.
"Am I gay? Am I straight? am I bi?
Why should I have to be out and proud?" you said with a sigh.
See this is nothing keep smiling don't cry
Don't cry for those dying in wars against terrorism
Even though you find America's enthusiasm
Distasteful considering they create the fears
But the politician and CEOs simply laugh at their blood smears.

Keep on beaming honey
While your in negative money
Because you can't do a thing anyway
Why bother to try and have your say?

Missing out on things that he enjoyed,

Hoping if himself where to be destroyed

In all the minuet ways.

Then that voice that always says

“Your existence is pathetic and you should be ashamed”

No matter how he tried those thoughts couldn't be tamed

So he attempt subdue with masochistic ways,

Hoping it will make him free one of these days.

He can't deal with shame so that's his next plot

"I'll blurt all my secrets and feel my mind rot!"

His friends will laugh and his humiliation will rise.

He looks in the mirror to see the pain in his eyes

But it still isn't enough to subdue what lies inside.

What other happy feelings could he brush aside?

He finds nothing so drinking came next of course

And he continued on such paths with no remorse.

"It is my body" he cried "and I choose this pain"

Until his thoughts escalated  "why not cut a vein?"

He never chose to be so broken and alone

It was the only way he could attempt to silence his mind's moan.

.

I am sorry if you find this depressing but I wrote it and I am proud of it (mainly the number of science references I could fit into one short poem).  

hope you like it anyway... if not please comment STOP WITH THE SADNESS WE WANT MORE KITTENS... or rainbows... I personally prefair to combine the two...

I am rambling

POEM!

Dealing with existence

Requires more persistence,

Perhaps some assistance,

More than I have left in me

My mind decaying and emitting debris.

What is my mental half life?

Is there anything that could lesson my mental strife?

for now the poems flow, the decaying slows 

Am I better? Who knows?

I think social interactions pain me most,

Inside I am praying to become a ghost,

more gentle and less engrossed.  

Sadness decay triggers the production of radical thought.

Why can’t happiness be taught?

Although would anyone be truly distraught?

These can be annihilated by radical actions.  

I wonder if neutrality could be achieved through this reaction

but I should remember two negatives lack attraction.  

Why are my thoughts so corrosive?

implosions rather than explosive.

I feel I should express

But what have I left to confess?

I promised someone a poem about cake and this was the best I could do.  If you can't tell I like portal.  

"And at the end there will be cake"
"The cakes a lie, the cake is a fake,
I don't even think you can bake"

But they don't understand our words build momentum,
Make far greater leaps than those that are quantum
In Becca's verse or maybe even Lucy's strum.

I can't help but feel in the position of GLaDOS, it was a test after all
I trusted them to be there to laugh when I stutter or fall
But I suppose they had no portal gun to shoot at the wall

I doubt they would understand anyway or even construe,
Words we speak from our point of view
"And all the cake is gone.  You don't even care, do you?"

When the brain regains control

Stupid emotional girl,
Spewing feelings that make me hurl,
What did you think you would achieve?
I laughed watching you on New Year's Eve,
Wiping tears on your sleeve, 
I still Laugh as you grieve.

Your feelings were not shared
And now I see you're scared.
I asked you not to speak,
But the words you typed now leak
and now I hear your internal Shriek.

It shames me to share mental space with you,
Things fall out of your mouth and you have no clue.
If you let me take over I wouldn't have said a word
And maybe now we could speak less slurred,
Better than knowing they think we're absurd.

And now we're stuck being obsessed,
Telling others "I am just stressed"
And then we look and they are still perfect,
Despite that we're desperate for a defect.
I know you tried to help us recover,
by trying to shift obsessions to another
But who could match their beauty, intelligence,
Humor or benevolence?
From this moment onward we are banned from feelings
Because I can't cope with more dealings
Of the feelings such as this we discuss
No Dopamine nor serotonin for us
As the withdrawal symptoms are rough
For a silly girl who is anything but tough.

Even serial killers can't hurt animals

I have had the craving to write limericks for ages then my fingers typed these... enjoy?

There once was a girl who loved lace,
then she disappeared with no trace.
they found her head
at the foot of my bed,
now no more they praise her grace.

Once a man who liked the dark
got startled once in the park,
Jammed my knife in his spine
then laughed at his whine,
serves him right for his vulgar remark.

There was once a woman cried
she made no attempt to hide
So I killed her quick
hit her with a brick
She'd have lived if she didn't lie

There was a dog who peed on my leg.
he then had the nerve to beg,
I shooed him away
yet another stray
the only one I didn't want dead.

Day to day life of Tom Kingsman.

This is just based on the idea of a story of someone questioning where to go from where they are I suppose... Hope it is as interesting to read as it is to write.  

14/11/12


Well, this is strange, I have been panicking a little recently about little things I looked it up and I do not agree what the internet has been telling me.  Apparently I have some sort of anxiety disorder but I find that hilarious this is the internet what does it know about me from a few questions but it had a recommendation to talk to someone so I thought I would talk to my self instead so... hello diary?

I feel a little girly calling it a diary but I suppose that is what it is.  

My day?  Is that where I start?  Well I got up did some simulations and came back here to my apartment alone.  I don't even know what I am trying to achieve anymore with my thesis, I suppose I am trying to work out the non ionized electrons in superconductors move at different currents but that's irrelevant and you don't care.. why would you care your a word document you don't have feelings you don't understand or think.  Basically I don't know where to go from where I am and there is no help anymore not real help.  I finished in the top 5 of my class, managed to bag my self a research post and then I can't even manage to do a competent introduction and I am one month in.  

Sometimes I feel I shouldn't have gone into physics I mean it makes me "happy" in a sense that it is the closest to happy I have ever manage to find but what can I achieve in the grand scheme of things? Well I suppose what can anyone achieve from life?

Non of that matters though.  It's is all just something I have to do I suppose just sometimes it feels like the world is caving in on me until the world seems so close to me that I can no longer breath or move and it was fine it used to be when I was alone with a calculation I couldn't figure out and usually I would get over it and just continue but It happened in the computer lab today in front of this third year, she got me a glass of water and sat me down and as soon as I felt I could move of my own accord I just apologized and left.  That was the most embarrassing moment of my life.  I admit this is a problem but its not anything that wont go away.  

Well it was nice talking to me and well I feel kind of better.  Who knows Maybe this might actually me a semi decent solution.  

anyway night?

15/11/12

So it's Thursday morning.  I am sat here with my coffee and well I feel I should admit because only I can read this anyway I mean who else is going to see my laptop? so it's a bit more than I don't know what to do with physics, I don't know what to do with anything anymore.  I did physics because I could do it I got decent grades and no point doing something you can't do but I don't care about it and I don't remember caring about anything.  here I am 22 a full grown man living on my own but I just can't see why I should do anything.  I wish I didn't do theoretical physics I sit on my own in my room writing programs for 30 seconds worth of a simulation.  I wish I was good at something that was important I can't draw to save my life, I tried to play guitar but my fingers are too big and clumsy and I can't even talk to women normally.  I say this I tell my self it can't be as bad as I make it out to be I just need to get out more I suppose.  I am going to buy a copy of halo 4 today and just occupy my self with that and just get through my doctorate and just keep going its all you can do.  but sometimes I wish I was free to just... I am not going to say it but yeah that's enough writing for now I think.  

OK well that was a productive day.  spent chasing up a load of references of "recommended reads" of others work and I have read them all before its not exactly ground breaking research now is it.  I got my game though and its pretty awesome can't wait to get back to it I am only here while I am waiting for the chips to cook I have about 20 minuets yet.  

I saw that woman again I sort of walked in the opposite direction when I saw her and hid behind the corner which sounds a bit pathetic but I don't lie talking to people unless I have to.  I hate people and I hate being alone what can you do. 

But you know what life's good.  I have a crate of cider waiting for me in the fridge and a load of noobs to thrash on infinity.   Is it sad that that is the highlight of my life so far, probably ever I mean what am I going to do anyway that's worth anything?  well maybe its not but I can't remember anything else it's all just sort of a grey-ish blur.

FOOD SMELLS READY!!!  "DIP THE MASHED POTATOES IN THE BARBOQUE SAUCE YUM YUM GIMMY!" it popped into my head and I felt the need to quote tobuscus OK? http://youtu.be/hmCxs2_ztPE
but what I was going to say was time to drown my chips in sauce   

The Conventional Fear of Glass.

She caught a glimpse of me in the glass;
She saw into the caverns and darkest corners of my mind.
She frowned as though she knew that all the light combined could not light the way.

She caught a glimpse of me in the glass;
She saw me shudder and knew it not caused by cold,
She reached out as though maybe she could have controlled then drew back.

I stared Back while we paused to hold breath in sync;
I pushed my glasses up to hide my eyes so no one again would see
We walked on as we both agree,
Mirrors are an unpleasant sight,
They leave your soul haunted at the depths of night,
For when I glanced back at her I saw no more than spite,
While I stood and trembled with fright.

Three Little Birds. (part II)

   Her coat dropped from her shoulders to her ankles.  Initially the coat had been a pure black coat but she had spent hours interweaving colours on it's surface.  The cottons caught the clouds' glow.  Rosa was a bit of a strange one, she hated being looked at but she knew that people would, so she would give them something at least half decent to look at.  The emptiness of the streets allowed her footsteps to echo down the road.
   Everything apart from her seemed to resonate muted colour, the lights were blue white, the sky was blue-white, even the trees seemed to lack their natural colour and was replaced by a darker blue.
   Her work clothes felt uncomfortable as she walked.  The white trimmings pushed against her up most thigh.
   Despite everything that had occurred she felt safer at work than anywhere else.  Despite that Robin appeared a bit of a sleazeball he wouldn't let anything happen to his girls.  More than once she had thought of talking to him about what was going on but was she really worth worrying over? Her fingers trembled.  Everything she got was exactly what she deserved.
   She walked under sign above her and continued on to her locker.  This was the closest place she had to a home, not somewhere to live but to people who would care for her.  The girls stuck together; it can be hard keeping your self together and everyone there had their own story.  Only Paloma knew what was going on.  Just so happened the night before her and Rosa had a bit of a wild night.
   "Yo, Rosa, happy Christmas"
   "Yeah you too" she looked away to the floor.
   "Oh relax you didn't do anything that stupid last night" her eyes flashed while she spoke just for a second as though remembering something that she dare not speak of.
   "Are you sure?"
   "I am sure, don't worry" Paloma giggled.  She had white hair that was very short, it clung to her head tightly with neat little curls.  When you looked at her if not for the colour of her hair you could imagine her to have walked straight out of a party in the nineteen twenties and her tendency to wear very unfitted clothes outside work only emphasis this look.
  They stood together in their work attire.  Half the girls in the room were wearing a variation of Santa's Little Helpers clothes which where all the less tasteful but at least they where only on waitressing duties.
  Rosa sighed "Time to go sell ourselves."
  "God you make us sound so cheep come on, have fun with them."
   Rosa's smile quivered slightly before Robin came behind her and patted her on the shoulder.  "Hey you're up, someones been asking for you" He winked at her.  She hadn't told him about Alex, this had been going on for months and she thought that he might be busy with some family or something, today of all days.
   Paloma gave her a nudge "TALK TO HIM"
   "No its pointless I mean I am not worth bothering over it will be fine like you say 'Everything's going to be alright'."
   "Yeah it will if you talk to him about it and sort this whole thing out, if you just leave it it will only get worse."
   "I will be fine." She flicked her hair as she walked through the curtain door and as she left a cocktail of alcoholic beverages wafted its scent into the dressing room.

Three Little Birds (part I)

Blue light ate away through the thick curtains spilling onto her heavy eyes.  It continued to nibble at her eyelids till she sat bolt upright.  She signed and wrapped the duvet around her and trudged to the bathroom and stared at the mess that reflected back at her.  She washed away the smudged mascara from the night before and then brushed her teeth.  

When she slid downstairs she remembered "Oh... I have work tonight." she passed a silver little package in the corner on her way for the coffee and attempted to ignore it. 

Lights flickered outside the window.  Reds, pinks and yellows entered her eyes via the trembling kettle.  Rosa ignored them.  Her Black hair kept the chill of her neck.  she reached for the vodka as the kettle boiled and poured some in before adding the hot water staring it.  

She pressed play on the CD player and "three Little Birds" by Bob Marley began to shake the frosted windows.  

She put on her work cloths underneath a pair of baggy jeans, a t-shirt and a jumper.  She couldn't stand going to work but it was just to fill in time until she could get something better.  It wouldn't be too bad if they didn't feel the need to incorporate the theme of Christmas into the costume, as though she didn't have enough of it with shops screeching it's music out of every orifice with out having them further cheapen a tacky job.  

It was only 3 in the afternoon, she had an hour before she had to set off.  She returned downstairs to the package.  She noticed it topped with the same blue as the lower layers of her hair. She shuddered.  The tag attached to it read "From your loving boyfriend Alex xxx".  She felt nauseous.  He didn't give up, she changed the locks and he still found ways to get into her house, her home, the one place she was supposed to feel safe.  Holding her head with one hand she slid for to the floor while grabbing the present with the other before shattering its contents on the adjacent wall.  

She curled up and sobbed.  He had to give up eventually and then she would be free. Reporting him did no good, she got laughed out of the police station I mean a man of high social standing such as him wanting to be anywhere near her.  He was a lawyer, knew the ins and outs of the law.  It made it very hard for her to find anything evidence of what he was doing to her.  

They first met at her workplace.  One of his "friends" apparently payed for a dance.  Out of everyone he had to know her boss of course, had words so he could get more intimate encounter.  She was payed double of course for that, she couldn't tern down the work.  Her brother disappeared months ago leaving her drowning in dept. desperate times called for desperate measures and there is more than one way to sell your body.  More than once she was tempted to give in and to go along with his fantasies he could more than afford to help her but he just stepped the line to quickly sure she was desperate but not quite there yet she was going to beat him if it was the last thing she did.  

She had set the track to repeat and the lyrics pierced her self pity "this is my message to you, don't worry about a thing because every little thing is gonna be alright" her lips mouthed in time with the lyrics as she picked her self up and dragged her self to get another coffee.  She felt the music made a perfect little paradise in her mind fighting off the nauseating claques of Christmas with the warm sunny sounds of reggae.

When the track replayed a sixth time she took it of repeat and let the rest of the album flow through the speakers.