tim friedman and Australian Concert Ochestra - her floor's my ceiling.

i can't help but remember when you asked if that was your song.

and you sent me the lyrics, and said it was you.

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perhaps this is my shitty attempt at some kind of love sonnet.

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this is what becomes of rainy days.

filling them with tori amos, talking to a boy i've ever met, and telling him all about himself....and pretending that i'm not thinking about you

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i can't believe i'm writing like this. ahh, it's absolutely pitiful.

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it's strange, all these people telling me woderful things about myself.

and the one person, who i would die to hear say it...never will.

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i have to remember that nothing has happened for me to be sad about. what are you sad about?

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opening up lately. as things get harder to handle, i open up to people. and often, don't realise i'm doing it. don't realise what i'm doing to the person by putting this onto them.

sarah, wasted her time. gave her shit.

danni, wasted her time. gave her shit.

amanda, wasted her time. gave her shit.

amber, wasted her time. gave her shit.

and alex. somehow thats different. perhaps someone who is possible of wasting my time. giving me shit.

and thats why i need it. why i get too involved in it.

because i'm still getting hurt. most probably unintentionally, but the feelings still there.

quite possibly misread, but i can still pretend.

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today i told sarah something like this:

I can sit down one day and talk for hours about how i feel about something. and mean every word. and then sit down the next day, and talk for hours about how i feel about the same thing, and it will be completely different to theday before. but i'll still mean every word.

so, this is what gets to me. another of the things i can't get my head around. i need something constant. something that is never changing. so i keep these things; my scars, the perfect reminder that i am in this body (include in that love for red, the pages and such..), and the fact that the confusion is there. the sadness is still there.

thats my invariable.

--- ---

(why am i bringing maths into this??)

--- ---

shit. now i've lost my train of thought.

and now a song that reminds me of another beautiful boy i once knew. young (he was actually 27 or something like that..no matter) paully. cass's boyfriend. beautiful he was. oh, how i wish i could somehow break her habits.

i put it back onto the whitlams.

hmmm beautiful.

i say beautiful too much. all is beautiful.

all is full of love.

"with a head full of her."

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"oh, if she liked the look ofme.."

well then, get your act together.

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i fear we're returning to old habits again my friend. i thought it was fun the first time. you thought it was weird. doesn't matter though, i doubt we'll be going anywhere with this dream in a stone.

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but, for now my space bar is beginning to fail me (therefore i am continually going back and seperating words..rather tedious.)

--

but i would just like to repeat these words. (and,if there is someone out tehre reading this, listen tothe whitlams - her floors my ceiling. he said it was about someone else. he was probably telling the truth......perhaps.)

--

"oh,if she liked the look of me."

well then, get your act together.

--

and you out there behind the computer screen, all apologies for wasting your time. and making you read this shit.

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