as of yet, untitled

Torn. My heart, mind and soul being pulled in several directions; not knowing what to do, where to go and, more importantly, where to end up.

I’m not losing sleep, it’s just not coming during the night. My body might already be on New York time, I don’t know, because in my mind I’m already there. I’m already everywhere I want to be at once, with the people I want to see again and others I want to meet.

When it started it was so simple, one person, one life, live it. But my heart was shattered and the pieces seem to not want to go in the same direction. So now, everyone I meet, I begin writing our story in my head, all completely different lives that in some Universe I might be headed towards. Except that I don’t know which Universe I’m in, whether one of those books already in my library isn’t fiction, just fate. Or has my book not been written yet, has the person not been met?

I want to get to the final chapter and think that it was better than any of the other tomes I had conceived. Unfortunately other people have their own libraries, their own dreams, hopes and fates. Those I can’t control. But which library to go into? What if I leap for a book that has my name in, only to find out I’m killed off 26 pages in? What if I cast asunder another with no mention of me, only to find it was written with an alias, or that I threw it down after 16 pages, when I waltzed in on 17?

But then I get scared knowing my fate, because then I start to long for the mystery, for the fiction, even though reality could turn out to be infinitely more enjoyable.

I need to gather all of those wandering pieces, and find which one is going the right way. 

I need someone to bring me the sellotape.

Why do I never get the number? That voice is screaming it in the back of my head, but the words refuse to leave my mouth. And when I do get the number, I dont get a reply. And when I give someone mine, I’m pretty sure they delete it as soon as they turn around. Rant over, I’ll just stick to the numbers that DO reply.. Mostly.

It’s so loud inside my head, with words that I should have said; As I drown in my regrets, I can’t take back the words I never said.

I try every time to say what I want at the right time, but it never comes out, and I’m sick of it. This past week I have had so many of these moments that my life should have taken 1000 different turns, but alas, we cannot change the past, so instead I look to the future and that next moment. I promise I will give it a try but I honestly think those words won’t come out. 

“I think that all the silence is worse than all the violence, fear is such a weak emotion, that’s why I despise it. We’re scared of almost everything, afraid to even tell the truth. I’m so scared of what you think of me, I’m scared of even telling you; Sometimes I’m like the only person I feel safe to tell it to. I’m locked inside a cell in me I know that there’s a jail in you.

“Consider this your bailing out, so take a breath, inhale a few; My screams are finally getting free, my thoughts are finally yelling through”

So I guess a lot can change in a year… This time last year I called you one of my closest friends, how wrong I was. I guess I should have guessed when you forgot everything that you’d told me when we met in April. I know we havent spoken since but I dont understand why you have changed so much..

Just as last year and the year before that one, arguments, fights, and, highest on the list, accidents, are all, once again, my fault.

I must say that someone needs to rearrange Christmas so it draws out the happy bits more, and condenses the rather unhappy bits into one short burst in the middle. I’m not going to call our family dysfunctional, because it would be unnatural to never fight, unnatural to disagree. However, what I will call dysfunctional is the person behind the words. It is not natural that it always seems to be me, yet it is natural to feel that way. The feeling of being abandoned, alone, and outcast on any day is perfectly normal, or at least it is in my world, purely and simply because in my world this is an every day occurrence. There must be something intrinsically wrong with myself and the universe for things to pan out this way, and yet no-one has so far satisfactorily defined the universe, or studied me, so maybe it’s right?

Don’t be mistaken; this is no cry for help. This isn’t even depressing. This is merely a description of the way things are. I am not happy about the situation, yet curiously I’m not sad. If this is the way it is, then so be it. If you are the way you are, then that is that. And if I am me for who I’m meant to be, c’est la vie. I would dearly like to know why, but I know that answer may never come.

There is nothing I can do more, I do all I can. In fact trying harder would be detrimental, and so all I can do is pray that you do more, that they do more, that we do more. What annoys me more than most is that when someone does something, anything, that could be considered offensive or harmful, they then ask “are you OK?” This irritates me because it was neither harmful nor offensive, and yet but asking whether I am alright after the aforementioned actions, implies that I am in some way very weak and sensitive, which upsets me more than any original action.

I’m not entirely sure why I am writing. Maybe it is out of want to do something, anything. When I write I can talk, to no-one in particular. At this moment, I talk to you, but I know not who you are. If you do read the entirety of this post, I applaud you but I also feel apologetic. And, if you do read this, please feel free to reply in any way, ask a question, do what you will, but it would be very nice to know someone is listening.

Thank you for listening :)

Let me tell you all a little story of the things I’ve found
Hanging out and drinking with my friends in the cathedral grounds
And later dodging drunks as we dance along Jewry Street
As we wander uptown to the railway, our friends to meet

There’s something about coming back to your hometown again
The place where you grew up and where you found your firmest friends
And though none of them still live here, I’ve got nowhere to go
I’m a Wessex boy and when I’m here I’m home

Let me tell you all a little story of the things I’ve lost
Huddling for warmth on the top step of the Buttercross
Sitting on the benches by the bridges at the riverside
Counting down the hours for the buses ‘cause I missed my ride

There’s something about coming back to your hometown again
The place where you grew up and where you found your firmest friends
And though none of them still live here and I’ve got nowhere to go
I’m a Wessex boy, a Wessex boy and when I’m here I’m home

And one day I will hear this song, anonymous and sweet
Ringing out from a buskers guitar in the ancient city streets
I’ll buzz a while and smile before I continue on along
And somebody else will sing the words and I’ll feel like I’m home

There’s something about hometowns you never can escape
The triumphs and the tragedies, the tortured little fates
The welling of nostalgia and the feeling’s kind of strange
‘Cause despite the little changes, yeah, this place still feels the same

There’s something about coming back to your hometown again
The place where you grew up and where you found your firmest friends
And though none of them still live here but I’ve got nowhere to go
I’m a Wessex boy, I’m a Wessex boy and when I’m here I’m home

You made the sleepless nights bearable, because you were there. Inevitably when I was down, you were there. Even when you shouldn’t have been, you were there. But now you’re not there I miss you more, and I pray it won’t be long before you can be there again. I can’t say how long it will take, there is no way of even you knowing. Even reading this won’t help you. I’m sorry.

For the past few months every time I have thought of something to say or found some meaningful lyrics to post I don’t know why but I just haven’t, and then comes a vicious cycle because you can’t understand the latest one without the last unposted one. See? Dilemma.

So, I did.

Perth was amazing. I loved every second. But now I can say I have circumnavigated the globe, and have returned to a home that is weird to me. I really don’t know what to do with myself, mostly because I barely have a penny to my name. Yet still I manage to find ways of spending even more of what I don’t have. My nights in Liverpool might be spent out but my days will be spent looking for work.

I hope you missed me England, cause I definitely missed you :)

If only. It definitely wasn’t money I was swimming in, and I failed to find Dr. Sherman’s dental practice on Wallaby Way, mostly because Wallaby Way does not exist. But I found where the house SHOULD be judging by the view of the harbour from the window. Sydney is very pretty, and I wish I’d seen it in daylight, but, as with most of the places I’ve been this summer, I have to go back eventually. It is for this reason why I’m spending my last $80 on the Rugby and on the Lottery! (Not really, everyone knows Ireland are gonna win so why bother betting)

So Hawaii got better and better and then better again, I somehow managed to meet a perfect group of people on my last night, which sucked a little bit, but it was far better than not knowing them.

But sadly I had to leave, mostly cause I couldn’t afford to stay any longer, and my visa expires soon anyway, and now I’m in Perth for 3 days, before heading back to the right end and side of the planet.

I feel a bit like Brewster, except after I spend all my money in a month I don’t get $300,000,000 :(

So after a couple of months of extensive research, I have concluded that the original findings were correct, and that they are unforgettable