men don't cry, woman multitask, girl stab backs and boys break hearts

there is a wave of sickness spreading through my body, it started as my heart fell to the pit of my stomach when i saw the photo of them together. i hate him.

how dare he tell me for months that he wants us to be more, he wants us to be together, and then, when i finally start to trust him CRACK goes my vile of trust as he spills it from my hands. i hate him.

it lying in pools, dripping from my fingertips; trust glistens like the tear tracks on my cheeks. why do we bother? why why why? back when i was horribly ill, even just a few months ago, i didn't care about school or boys or the future ...all the mattered was surviving the present and refused to let myself trust anyone. i never got hurt that way, i never got hurt by anyone but myself.

and i think that was better because at least i knew what direction the blows were coming from. i hate him.

for the first time in three months i cut myself. a red seeping line drawing over the scar tissue of a previous distress. and then the anger moves to my stomach, it seems fat suddenly, even though i haven't gained any of the weight i'm meant to have. if i cut over the word fat that it already reads there then perhaps some of the contents of my stomach will bleed out too. it doesn't work, just leaves sharp, angry lines which spot blood that runs down my stomach.

then yesterday and today i skipped meals for the first time in three months too. the twisting pain in my tummy, crying for food, was a better pain than the one in my heart and head. those both dulled as i walked and didn't eat.

i haven't come this close to fucking up in a long time and it's frightening.

but what frightens me is not the fact that i might sink below the water level to that deep dark world again. it's the fact that even though i hate him ...all i want to do forgive him and be hugged close again.

x xx

sick. sick. sick. sick. is it any wonder that the world's next generation is ill so young?...

there are many things out there in our world which are wrong; we fight each other, we steal and riot, we kill animals for pleasure and destroy the earth we were given.

but these things are global, there is only so much one person alone can do.

and what i write next is not in any way comparable with the destruction of our world but it shows where the potential for self-destructing ourselves can come from.

for i come across an article like THIS and i am outraged that anyone could come up with a brain washing idea quite like it for our next generation. this comes from an educated adult in a continent which prides itself as being at the fore front of "right against wrong".

what is worse is that Aloha Publishing, the self publishing agency this author used, has not even begun to think of removing the book. just type in the title, "Maggie Goes On A Diet" and you can see disgust sweeping across the internet. among the upset there are tragic stories of girls dying from eating disorders that started as "simple diets".

i should have been one of those girls. it scares. this self hatred must stop.

i know obesity is an growing problem, especially in developed countries, but this, aimed at those as young as SIX, is not the way to solve such a deep routed problem.

i want to do something. i want it to STOP.

and i am out of ideas except that perhaps if we ALL click HERE just once and write to Aloha that we think their decision to publish this book is unacceptable then maybe, just maybe, someone might stand up and take notice.

i have no idea how many people read my scatterings of words but please, all it takes is a few hundred voices from accross the globe.

with love and prayers,

quinn

x xx

he likes me. he like me not. he likes me. he likes me not...

when he holds my hand my stomach quivers like a thousans butterflies. when we go out together it's funny and sweet and i don't want it to end. we talk about books and argue about god and drugs then kiss before we part. 

i like him. but for the record, i know nothing about love.

i'm just winging it, sure that i must know when i feel such a beast.

i hope he trusts me but i know he finds it hard. and i don't mind that, how can i when i barely trust myself?

the only thing that scares me is what if he stops liking me? i'm terrified of being unliked, unloved, unwanted. what if i get my heart broken? i mean, how can you know? how can you know what another person thinks or feels? 

you just, can't.

he's seen me in fits of giggles, with tear stained cheeks, cut up arms, starving limbs. he's pushed that awful chair when i could not even walk, played songs to me written from the heart. he use take the cheese of my pasta when no one was looking because it scared me so and tell me i was pretty even in weigh in clothes. 

i want him know i'm sorry for not realising sooner that he means such a lot to me. and i don't want anyone's fairytale to end.

love quinn

x xx

the great fire of london burned and burned, how long will the flame go on they asked?

papa lost his wallet in the woods. a week later it was handed in at a tiny polise station thirty miles away.

three europian tourists had found it behind a bench in the woods. inside they wrote papa a note.

the reason it took a week to get handed in was because they walked all those miles to find a police station.

i know london is a mess and that the riots are spreading but moments like lost wallets and kind strangers sometimes restores my faith in humanity.

madness isn't catching but it's something i've seen you learn. don't waste a life on gaining control when loosing it is all you know.

i can feel my anxiety displacing. i use to corner it off in the little area of my brain traffic lighted, "appetite" but now i'm not meant to do that.

it's difficult. sometimes far more difficult that i previously allowed myself to imagine.

all those thoughts of dying keep infiltrating my head. not myself dying but others. the whole world collapsing in on itself; family upon friends upon colleagues upon acquaintances upon strangers. i try and keep everything out by making up stories of my own death instead.

i sound so macabre but it makes me feel like i have some sort of control over my life. even though that's nonsense in reality.

i think about the accident; how frightening the world seemed, the whole prospect of being was, in that that instant. even now i shake at the thought of the route he took, it had nothing to do with me but i still feel responsible. i pace back and fourth, legs quivering, heart a quell of senseless emotion; please let him be okay, please let them all be okay.

i know loss is part of human existence, to be human is to live and to die but i feel unprepared for the prospect. i suppose most people do. i feel young and old at the same time, horribly cliched but true - you so long with the fear of a child but the body of someone aged and fragile soon your mind is fucked up even more than it was before.

x xx

without us would the world be better or is that just a hope unfounded?

most of the time i do not understand the world, it's cruelty and desperation. but sometimes, it still amazes me how beautiful it was made before we came.

x xx

watch the world go, see it swim and dive.

in cities we are anonymous; we slip through subways, onto double deckers, into starbucks for a skinny-extra-hot-no-foam-latte-with-caramel-syrup all with the bleepbleep of plastic credit and elderly bus passes.

some hate it. some love it. some just accept it; obvious choice, convient, pays better than ploughing beetroots. (i must confess here i don't know what the average beet farmer earns) the city just swallows you up, often from your birth till the birth of your own child.

i like the way i can dissolve in cities. the way i can exist and learn to sit with my existance, my need for air and space, but not be overly reminded that i am parked in the only space beside the first corner shop in fifty miles.

then there is the way characters form in the city; the crazy lady with a thousand piercings, the homeless man with a pregnant mutt, the private school girl who loves charity shops and the business man, the student, the nurse, anyone, everyone all filing past each other. there is an acknowledgement of difference, of the lines that divide each into their area of society but judhement subsides. you see so many lives in cities, so many strange sights, it becomes normal. you accept humanities difference.

i grew up in a small town, really more like a village bursting at the seems. maybe it was a good place to start, but a good place to end. i love it, in a strange way, but it is nosey and chatters and self contained. it has no need to look further afield, that worries me. 

i like where i was. i love where i will grow up.

x xx