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