two sets of words in just a few days, we call that progress somewhere out there.

the bus smells bad, stale and clingy. i think that my duffle coat will smell the same when i get off. we're at ferrytoll, the end of the earth. it really should be; there is nothing here but a park 'n' ride used for dumping and migrating elsewhere. crossing the bridge into my city, dreich and full of decadence and squalor. sometimes i think that i'll be killed here; back alley stabbing on the fringe of suberbia - because i live in a nice area that borders a not so nice area and at night, the moon calls wolves. other times i can see myself soaring, lifted with a power ready to spill over like cloud's tears, raining down. i feel whole. i feel whole until i hear, a whisper from the corner, of parties and futures. even today, with someone who is like my twin, i could not tell who she was becoming. fear isn't leaving me, and neither is the hypocrisy i spout - i've come far but apparently it's not far enough. x xx

we are at one with the world around us but at war with the world within us.

i should check in more often but since failing is art, i like to do it to the best of my abilities.

i have a link for you, it's a selfish link at that but hopefully you won't hold it against me.

amongst all the puffs of normality that now ebb into my life (babies, God, chocolate fondue, mentally berating myself for not having written a personal statement yet) there has come an idea.

i want to save others, that has always been a constant since i could not really save myself. but now, now we have a plan. i say we because thankfully i am not the only one embarking on this naive adventure.

it's not like i am a secret anymore so here i am sharing my secret whereabouts and name...

welcome to edinburgh. here we want set up a charity for people in the same situation that we found ourselves, a place that holds onto their hope even while they can't, something i always needed done for me.

the fully story will be explained shortly a la "this link"

love and dreams x xx

how did man learn to talk with such stagnant thought and stale tongue?

i need to get back to words. books have been good but now i must do the writing.

when i didn't eat, i use fill my time with writing and now i'm so busy with the business of "trying" to eat that i don't write. which is ridiculous.

i guess, no matter what, i use to find the depression inspired whirls and turns of ideas. now it's fading into a drug induced clouding.

they say we have twenty one grams of soul and also a book within us all. i like the myths and legends, our folklore and fables. i want to write something that goes down in history but who am i to decide what is worth making history?

just now i'm storyless, i'm still holding out for an epiphany of inspiration and clinging to the stars. i think sometimes i forget that you have to go searching for the unwritten tales so that you can know them, so that you can give them voice like never before.

x xx

the words are wandering and the sights are searing blindly amongst their foray of memories

it's been too long but i've also had toofew words and too much to say.

there are three of us in that curtained cubicle even though it only looks like two. we are talking awkwardly about the mondane amidst your crisis. and we live in strange times.

all night these thoughts keep haunting me; all these thoughts of the afterwards and the point of it all and our twenty one grams of soul. i'm so tired, it's this physical exhaustion that comes from deep within the heart strings and values. it's my muscles ached and bones hurt. i wonder if it is the weight of my person, my ghost, my soul as it grows heavier as it falls further from my grasp. 

things are good and bad and up and down. everything is better than it once was, i am thankful for that, but i miss papa and the cat and old familar knowledge of why i feel upset.

x xx

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