not everything's bad and not everything's good; it's about seeing light through the cracks and wearing jackets with hoods.

i don't write here much anymore. i'm happier so i suppose i don't feel the need to scrawl my heart out anymore. my head, on the most part, is content and that is a fascinating state to be in but not one i particularly like to write about. words can be medicinal in both their beauty and their tragedy and i have always found that the need, in this case, to type comes only when there is anger or sadness within me.
so i guess you could say that this has all become a little dull. i certainly wouldn't read over my old words and since i don't refresh this place with new ones very often, i find myself drifting away from here.

and that's perfectly fine by me.

everything is so different now; for the better and in a way i never thought it could be. our lives are filled with aims and yes, it is our dreams that drive us and that is by no mean bad but as a friend of mine wrote recently, "everyone is so scared about messing up God's plan for their life. humans already screwed up the plan, and Jesus already fixed it. go be free."

x xx

i lost my will and i lost my way, let us go far from here till we're old and grey.

if i tell you that i'm scared will you keep my fear stashed inside your locker, beside advanced english, in the dictionary with rest of the definitions that i labelled myself with?

i don't want to die. and i don't want to lose anyone to death either. but i lie awake imaging our separate ends and then i wake from the sleep that caught me at our funerals, i'm terrified.

heaven is meant to be my comfort but i find none in it. only the destitute and the brave; those who had nothing left to believe and those who were too brave to give up their beliefs. i'm neither of those. i believe because if i didn't i wouldn't be here at all.

break us all down and we become nothing but star dust. maybe that is why some of us sparkle and others are chasm of imploding darkness. and talking of imploding it feel like my body might do just that. it feels like everything is draining from me; my blood, my breath, my soul, my mind. all physical this time, all excruciatingly physical.

(that is not to say that things aren't good. there is much to be grateful for and i am; there is my job and summer and uni and family and friends. and i love them.)

but i'm still scared. my hope doesn't drown my fear, if anything it perpetuates it because it allows my perspective to envisage every angle. it's like looking round a corner using a shard of glass; you can see what is coming clearly enough with your eyes, but you can't know for certain if your brain is playing tricks on you or not.

and as a by the by it's one year since i was discharged from hospital. one year that i've made it without section or tubes or starvation. then why i am so sad? i think, though i may be wrong, it's because i've never felt so close to dying.

x xx

it's not about how you are now, it's about your past and how poisoned you were.

that's the thing; at the end of the day, no one cares how you are now. currently. at present. right this very moment. all that matters is your past and how it defines the person you have become. i don't believe this and i know there are others who doubt it too but i guess the health service would rather urge on the safe side than take a chance. i should be use to it; first medical neglect then discounted because of medical history.

so it is safe to say that my future feels venerable and that the madness feels like a burning twinge wanting to spark.

it's a strange hospital, the place where occuy meet and decides our fate. it's for rehabilitation and i don't mean the drug induced kind. there's amputees and folk with brain injuries and the grounds are rolling, vast grass lawns soaked in rain. there is a school in the centre, a bird table just outside it surrounded in concrete and a cat, spying the bird bath.

i don't like this place; it's unsettling, reminiscent of the royal and altogether less familiar.

there are memories behind us all, moments that created who we are but that should not mean that we are defined by where we come from; who we loved; or what we've been through.

no one knows each others pain and no one should. it ours to bear just as it is not others to judge.

and there is no more twittering and far less unknown "friends". maybe there will be peace in my head and less worrying in my heart.
quinn x xx

the numbers do not matter, or so i tell myself. you cannot preach the holy if you lack the faith to believe.

i doubt i'll ever feel like i was ill enough. it's the way of an anorexic mind, the residual sparks of a feud that doesn't quite leave. and sometimes i think that i will go back. not now but some day, when all is said and done.

i understand that i was ill; that i was very thin, organs starting to fail, a dying sort of ill. but do i feel like i was good enough, do i feel like i accomplished all i aimed for while anorexic? no. and i will never feel like i was "good enough" at my illness.

and i am reminded every day of what i failed to achieve for i know so many others with the same irrational as me.

i think, i need out. i need out of the friendship clause of anorexia that binds. once you meet someone who has suffered like as you have, you cling to them. i cannot cling to such people any longer.

not because i don't care and love and empathise with them. but because i need to remind myself that being better is not just an option, it is a necessity and one that, unlike anorexia, does not come at a price. if i can't have been the most ill then might i be the most recovered. i don't want to be known as the anorexic girl like so many of the people i know; i just want to be known for being me - a student nurse who loves green tea and believes in God. that is who i am. that is who i will always be.

so if i distance myself from it is not because i forgot your suffering or your pain - i know it well, i have lived it myself - i retreat only because i am beginning to learn that i cannot save you, that heroism must come from within you. my words fall on your deaf ears and i can't live beside people who destroy themselves; i'm moving on but not necessarily with you.

i am sorry for that.

perhaps i will be ill in many years to come. or maybe in just a few. or perhaps, never again.

as long as i hurt no one but myself and the world will keep on turning, just like today, just like always.

x xx

it's nearly over and yet not even begun, you stole the ideas and chose to run.

it's funny how just the pressure of the blade does more damage than it's cuts. purple brusing because the fragile blood vessels reputure.

i want tramadol for my pain but they won't prescribe it. codine is addictive and so are all the others.

so for now i'm self-medicating with dreams. 

i think of nursing in neo-nate wards and of falling in love with a doctor. i list baby names and future pets. i picture being a good mother and living in a new town flat. all random thoughts of a wonderful life.

i negate to think of the exams, the birth, the losses, the cost of such ideals. to think of price is to limit and i only want the limitless.

the world, my world, is unstable at the moment. turning on an axis that's going just a little less slow than i would like.

x xx

a b c d e f j h i j K l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z

my favourite

you're the taller one

who wants to be a snowflake

and have two boys

we like vintage

and charity

you have dave

and can walk in heels

i still need you to teach me

you are maths; i am words

BIG LOVE K

there is disaster all around us but it feels like it's closing in. the dark nights are turning to light yet the shadows still surround us.

hope went missing. and i don't just mean figuratively. you took the pills then skipped work to flight around the city. my heart stops when you finally give up the refuge you have sought. near water, up high; all the key sets to suicide.

then you let the rest of the truth spill forth and i can't breath as i think of you swallowing the pills.

crying out to the room; get the car keys, hurry up, i have to find her...

and i do.

i run up the hill, air tight in my lungs and caught in my throat. there's a man walking his dog, maybe someone cycling too but i can't tell, blind with fear at what you have become.

one last call and you finally pick up. i find you by the pond, joggers idling past. i swear at you, hugging you close as the pills make your body heave and shake.

mummy finds us and so do the police. twenty minutes for ambulance with eyes staring one; estate boys watch, mouthy to the police who moves them on shouting little shits after them.

i don't care. i just pace in the cold, chewing at my sleeve and pounding adrenaline with each step. your eyes are closing so i force numbers from your mouth, let's count; one, two, three, four. then check your pulse as the world rushes by. it's racing on too.

the ambulance is slow. rattling but no sirens. they save you, we save you, i save you but now you need to save yourself.