- Two of my fish are dead! Actually, to be correct, they were my sisters fish initially. She got bored of them so I had them in with my four. It's odd that they've both died on the same day. Kind of poetic. They were called Sharky and George. Partners in fighting crime, partners in death. RIP boys.
In other news, I can't sleep xXx
What is it with people making these grandiose gestures of pettiness? You want the world to know your woe, yet maintain an illusion of a bone-bound mind. You can't have your cake and cover it in salt and vinegar, else you'll be very sick. So change every last detail, sever metaphorical connections and stick her to the recycle bin. Life defined by radio buttons and drop-down menus; nothing upstairs. Nothing at all. And where did it go? It went to the online self-help group. Was it ever there? No, you just like to think it was because it made you masquerade more colours. Bright colours attract small children. Children, the type of being that believe animals can talk, that when you reach the age of 10 you can fly, and that crustless bread will reduce the need for straightening irons in later life. STEP ONE: Make a large incision from crown to heel. STEP TWO. Fold yourself out, the body is after all, just one big surface. STEP THREE: As your spleen rests against your elbow, smile; theres a flash. We can see it all. Who wants to read the book when there's a bullet point version in the front cover? Tell us all your secrets. Eyes still wide when we know it all? Are you retarded? Tell all and people stop asking. Paper perfection. Substance all in black and white. Not autobiographical, or even non-fiction - pure fantasy. Worse, a chicklit collection of clich. Pause. There it was. You just stopped to ascertain whether what you want to say will sound as cool and correct outloud as in your head. Is it hard? Must be taxing, thinking every thought twice. Exam-like stress. Must. Check. Spelling/punctuation/grammar. Lovingly pushing books in her pram, you should know that she will always keep her secrets. For what do we have to hold and keep and love and cherish through sickness and health, but that which no other owns?
PC whores sold their souls to paint a tree as a rainbow.
Bec was bored...
So bored that she tried life horizontally. Alas, it made no difference...
Then she had a nostalgic idea. She'd go and play on the swings. Because having her feet floating in the air always made her happy...
- THE END -
In other news, I can't sleep xXx
What is it with people making these grandiose gestures of pettiness? You want the world to know your woe, yet maintain an illusion of a bone-bound mind. You can't have your cake and cover it in salt and vinegar, else you'll be very sick. So change every last detail, sever metaphorical connections and stick her to the recycle bin. Life defined by radio buttons and drop-down menus; nothing upstairs. Nothing at all. And where did it go? It went to the online self-help group. Was it ever there? No, you just like to think it was because it made you masquerade more colours. Bright colours attract small children. Children, the type of being that believe animals can talk, that when you reach the age of 10 you can fly, and that crustless bread will reduce the need for straightening irons in later life. STEP ONE: Make a large incision from crown to heel. STEP TWO. Fold yourself out, the body is after all, just one big surface. STEP THREE: As your spleen rests against your elbow, smile; theres a flash. We can see it all. Who wants to read the book when there's a bullet point version in the front cover? Tell us all your secrets. Eyes still wide when we know it all? Are you retarded? Tell all and people stop asking. Paper perfection. Substance all in black and white. Not autobiographical, or even non-fiction - pure fantasy. Worse, a chicklit collection of clich. Pause. There it was. You just stopped to ascertain whether what you want to say will sound as cool and correct outloud as in your head. Is it hard? Must be taxing, thinking every thought twice. Exam-like stress. Must. Check. Spelling/punctuation/grammar. Lovingly pushing books in her pram, you should know that she will always keep her secrets. For what do we have to hold and keep and love and cherish through sickness and health, but that which no other owns?
PC whores sold their souls to paint a tree as a rainbow.
Bec was bored...
So bored that she tried life horizontally. Alas, it made no difference...
Then she had a nostalgic idea. She'd go and play on the swings. Because having her feet floating in the air always made her happy...
- THE END -
VIEW 25 of 38 COMMENTS
Smokers are performance artists.
xip