#looking back.

[smidgen-of-hotboy]

I think I deserve compensation after experiencing mystic messenger in 2016.

[asiya-ali]

. . . Looking back on these last few months, it's relieving to see that I was able to do so many things with what time I had. It was because of the new phase I entered at the beginning of October; starting a new job, transitioning from my first to second year of fine art painting that I needed to see as much as I could while I can. So I went to alot of events in my own time, group exhibitions in secluded art spaces, talks, circles of discussion. I felt like I could slip out of my routine skin and into that of a familiar more unhindered me, going to these things meant being a stranger and so my voice would be more calmer, my words strung together fluidly. I always go alone, unattached. And in many ways it helps pull me out of my ways of thinking. I always feel I can benefit from an experience - that there is always something to take away, let curl up in my thoughts and turn back to when I need it. . . . writing means a lot to me, it's always interesting to look at a sentence I wrote, to have my thoughts solidified and in words. and I'm quite good at it, so I've been told. But I pull away for some reason that I don't know. It's almost like I am lying to my hands. And because my thoughts, my way of thinking doesn't sound like my writing, and my voice sounds so far away from both of them that I can't even establish what it is I want to put down. But I need to do it, because it connects me to the world that flits about inside. Luckily I bought myself another journal, and I can pick up on that again. Soon. And as far as being organised goes, well, the moment I return to university and receive my grant I'm going to get myself my very first laptop 💻 Hopefully this new year will give me more focus and consistency, we will see Inshalla 🌟

[craptonsofcrazy]

Why? (a there was poem)

There was a strange sensation running through my brain, a rage that could not be combated. There was something strange about this day, and about these people. There was a keen sense of malice and trickery running through the air, running through my brain as well as theirs. There was an argument, with no point, but plenty of punch. There was a montages of seven, each in the back, each lacking a reason, each leaving a scar, not on the back, but on the heart. There was a cry for help, an arm reaching out from the depth of the pit that we call bullying. There was a reputation on the line, needing to be saved, not upheld. There was an abundance of repercussions for the victim, who had been placed as... the bully? There was a band of blockheads in administration, deeming the victim "not empathetic enough". There was on the other hand no repercussions for the bully, just a bunch of "warnings," a bunch of BS. There was no common enemy, the blockheads were a savior to one, and a enemy to another. There was a line, a final crossing point, that would lead to the devastation of a soul. There was no reason for any of this to happen. There was a school that did not practice what they preached, they said they love, but all I saw was hate. There was nothing I could do to reach into the minds of the blockheads, no way to get through. There was just a girl, who never had a chance against the whips of those who could never look at her the way that she deserved. There was a choice, to leave or to stay in the depths of hell. There was an idiot, me, who decided to stay... in enemy territory. There was and is now but one question on my mind... Why?

-V. 

[joannugh-blog]

Lol

I remember when we'd go out to eat or shopping and I'll introduce you to everyone we see that I know and you'll always get mad because you think I'm trying to "promote" you. Even when we'd go out clubbing you always get mad because I always share you on the dance floor. 

"Bugs, are you trying to sell me?"

[beautifulboulevard]

Wow.

Okay. So I'm just in one of those moods, where I'm going through old emails. And I click on one dated back to September 2010. It's a poem I wrote for an ex, called 'Remember Me," and when I say I am blown away by what the fuck I just read........

it's just..... whoa. wow. 

Sometimes I can't believe my writing. I doubt myself so damn much. I forgot what it's like to just write, and write, and write.

And to write to someone that means so much to you.

Life is so funny in that way.

LOL- I am literally amazed right now.

This is gold. 

[joannugh-blog]

The couch. The car. Oka Point. Your roof. Your room. The beach. While watching Big Time Rush. Early Morning. Afternoon. Hotels. Karen's house. My room. Restroom. The back of your truck in the middle of no where. Moms Room :P. Lost Pond. All in order. Yes, I remembered.