10 Fingers 10 Toes

I was a little bit hyperactive last night and so I just started writing down lyrics for a song and this is how it turned out.

I have ten fingers, have ten toes,

Don't stick either up my nose.

But one time on the 9th of July,

I could see a ladybird fly.

But whether or not that has any relevance,

To this story in present tense,

Well I guess you'll just have to wait around and see.

There are many ways to co-exist,

With monkeys and them flying pig.

First you stop deforestation,

But that could halt urbanisation.

So now you'll have to find a way,
Before the 17th of May,
To help protect all of the flying pigs.

Now you know this song had no point,
I'm remotely sorry to disappoint,
But now you know one hings is always true...

I have six fingers, ate four toes,
One was momentarily caught in a hose,
And one day you'll understand what this all meant.

This got me thinking, what is this song about, and I concluded that it is the compelling tale about a boy, who is living with ADHD. It's all about how his view on the world is fast moving and rapidly changing and that one day he will have the courage to tell his friends about his disorder.

Loneliness + Time = Pathetic Dreams

So, I thought that maybe I can share my pathetic dreams with all of you. This, dear reader is pathetic dream number 1, and for all intensive purposes, let's pretend that absolutely perfect guys exist.

It's early night after our 10th or 12th date, the moonlight is covered by dark clouds that threaten to rain at any second. I'm standing in a nice red dress and a set of low heels, and he's walking beside me in jeans, a nice shirt, a black leather jacket and runners. 

Finally on the walk through the woods, we reach a clearing that leads out onto a bridge that hovers over a stagnant lake. Then it starts to rain, not the light sort of sprinkle that makes the droplets shine in the partial light, but the heavy kind, the thick onslaught of droplets that obliterate everything in their path. 

He senses that I might be cold and I tell him that I'm not but he refuses to let me go on without his jacket draped over my shoulders. When we make it halfway across the bridge we stop to look at the lake which is lit only by a lonely street lamp, struggling to pump out a dim light. We stand almost directly underneath the light, and even with my heels I have to lift my chin slightly to look in his eyes. 

The light provided by the lamp, only allows me to make out half of his perfect face, his hair, that was previously was standing at odd messy angles, now patted down by the rain is framing his face. We stand like that in silence for a while, silently communicating with our eyes, calling each other beautiful without disturbing the tranquility.He will put his hand, which was holding mine, underneath my chin, raising it just ever so slightly from its current position. He will put his other hand on the side of my head, cupping my cheek and and ear, for just another sweet moment we will look at each other before he leans down just ever so slightly to kiss me. 

It will be a passionate kiss and I will have raised my hand to his cheek bones and we will break apart and stare at each other once more. We will share that same silence before walking home. We don't want to ruin the moment, we want to be stuck in those 2 minutes leading from the rain, to the kiss, forever. That bridge becomes our spot, out safe haven. And in those unspoken words, we fall in love all over again.

And I know I'm not the best writer, and I find it hard to communicate my feelings because I'm partially heartless but eh, what can you do? This blog is sort of a way for me to vent my feelings to people so yeah, my feelings it is.

Dawn

Okay so I wrote this song.....yeah. That's about it.

When you run out of time

And nothing’s good about being alive

You’re lying down trying to get free

But what’s the point, living through insanity

Your vision will go black

Afternoons pass, you’ll never get them back

All of your highs, are topped off with lows

And you’re running far but you can’t seem to get close

Keep on running, keep on pushing through

Don’t stop dreaming no matter what they tell you to do.

They say it’s darkest before the dawn

But what if you’ve been living in the night all along

They say nothing is forever

It will get better

Then why hasn’t anything changed

Tell me why does it all stay the same

Your soul is torn apart

You know many tragic poems by heart

All that you know, is the night and darkness

And you’re staring at distant skies appearing starless

Keep on running, keep on pushing through

Don’t stop dreaming no matter what they tell you to do.

They say it’s darkest before the dawn

But what if you’ve been living in the night all along

They say nothing is forever

It will get better

Then why hasn’t anything changed

Tell me why does it all stay the same

You’ve been trying hard to maintain good will

And you’ve stopped to think and ignored the pill

Just as the poison starts to take you in

Now that is when your dawn comes creeping in

They say it’s darkest before the dawn

But once it comes around you’ll never know it was gone

Pain’s not forever

Through time it gets better

Everything has finally changed

 And they will never be the same

They say it’s darkest before the dawn

But once it comes around you’ll never know it was gone

Pain’s not forever

Through time it gets better

Everything has finally changed

And they will never be the same again

Love Stories

This is just a rant to all the people at school who tell me I'm delusional or love obsessed.

People have being saying lately that I'm in to love stories. But that's not what it is they've got it all wrong. I love my action shoot 'em up and kill them books, and I wouldn't go out of my way to find a love story.

You see they look at me and say, 'You're a nut for love stories.' But I'm not, I'm a nut for hope. Hope that one day someone will walk me over a dimly lit bridge and kiss me, that someone will have perfectly calloused hands and life will just roll on smoothly.

Stories about love give me that one tiny shred of hope that I will actually have happiness and I won't die lonely. If they are going to look at me like I'm soft because I want love when I'm older,  I have hope to find nice people and I have dreams, then they've got it all wrong, life that is.

Life isn't about what makes you soft, it isn't about what makes you tough either. It isn't about books, or music, or mainstream or alternative. It's not about whether or not I wear polos or if I wear hiking boots with skinny jeans. It's not about whether I care about my appearance or get overly embarrassed when I fall over in mud in front of guys. It's about ups and downs, and when I read a love story it's afterwards that I get the up, and after that I get the down. Because it's then I realise my dreams are far-fetched and nobody in the real world has perfectly calloused hands. But then that's why I read, because hope is what let's any far-fetched dream become a reality in some form.

I know he's out there, my perfect guy, his perfect hands, at some stage I will find him, I just have to many things to do and see before I go looking. So if everyone could just stop telling me what I can and can't pass comments on, what is and isn't racist, what will and won't be fashionable, I would very much appreciate it. Go find your own ups and downs, don't try to make mine.