You know, I don't think you get to question the merits of my words.


You never got the reference anyway, did you. 


Those, were YOUR WORDS. Funny how you never hear yourself properly. [I am not immune]
 
 H.

I've had enough of the dungeon for one night. I'm going home.

and before you ask...;

H.


*If that's what you want to hear.

Maybe I need some rehab, or maybe just need some sleep
I've got a sick obsession, I'm seeing it in my dreams
I'm looking down every alley, I'm making those desperate calls
Im staying up all night hoping, Hit my head against the walls


What you've got girl is hard to find
Think about it all about it all the time
I'm all strung up my heart is fried
I just cant get you off my mind


Because your love, your love, your love, is my drug
Your love your love your love
I said your love, your love, your love, is my drug
Your love your love your love


Won't listen to any advice, mamma's telling me to think twice
But left to my own devices i'm addicted its a crisis!
My friends think I've gone crazy, my judgment is getting kinda hazy
My status is gonna be affected if I keep it up like a love sick crackhead


What you've got girl is hard to find
Think about it all about it all the time
I'm all strung up my heart is fried
I just cant get you off my mind


Because your love, your love, your love, is my drug
Your love your love your love
I said your love, your love, your love, is my drug
Your love your love your love


I don't care what people say
The rush is worth the price I pay
I get so high when you're with me
But crash and crave you when you are away


So I got a question;
Do you want to have a summer party in my basement?
Do I make your heart beat like a native drum?
Is my love, your drug?
(huh) Your drug? (huh) your drug? (huh) your drug?
Is my love, your drug?


Because your love, your love, your love, is my drug
Your love your love your love
I said your love, your love, your love, is my drug
Your love your love your love (x2)


Heyyy heyyy you love, your love, (whispered) is my drug

H.

You start making pumpkin soup, thats how.

Ps. Master chef is way cool.

Part of me is sorry about making you cry.
Part of me wishes I hadn't said what I said.
All of me still thinks it was the right thing to say.
All of me still thinks it was the right thing to say.

H.

 I drove through the night to see you.


You slept through the night to avoid me.

I'm not going to bother anymore.

You never did anyway. 

H.

 Today I realised something. I am not alone.

Sitting on the computer next to me in the medical hub of deakin's new library is a girl, tumbling away about her depressing life and insecurities, and from than I know that there might be others out there, just like me. This brings me, if not hope, belonging.

H.

So I just discovered that for an extra $5.00 a month I could get 14 times the amount of data usage. AND guess what I did! [PS I'm writing this FROM MY COMPUTER AT HOME.] yes, you heard it here first folks.


H.

 Did you know that you don't have to fill silence with constant small talk just to avoid the awkwardness? The radio already does this job.

H.

and the isolation has begun once again. 


I don't know why I get so jealous. I just do. So when I see you're smiling faces with friends I used to have I can't help but feel a little sad about what things have become. No angst. No silent loathing. Just time.

I think I always expect too much. I mean its good to always aim high, have hopes and aspirations, and a general upbeat outlook, but I should [more often] remind myself that such things only work in conjunction with me. I cannot control [or influence] others. I should not control [or influence] others.

And now you're thinking 'how hypocritical'. And you're right, which is why this blog-post come guilt-trip [as with pretty much every other one] is going to end here.

H.

Heres the post from yesterday,
that was to say, 
without delay,
happy birthday!


A day of adventures of parks and cars,
one with whit and humour and stars.


An early morning of a tardy arrival
surely did nothing to the party's survival.
The will however did not wilt,
and soon enough the picnic was built!


With presents and food and laughter all round,
the mood was set, the joy abound.
The onset of noon brought sudden departures,
and pretty soon we're off on marches.


After many an hour with thought in mind,
the beach of St. Kilda proved a delightful find.
With swimming in jeans, and splashing about,
the fun was had, till we all got out.


With chaffing a fare,
and many a stare,
the black car chair
proved a delicate affair.


Home was the way for the sensible mind,
to get out of clothes the sand did find.
Then a trip to the city for a night of humour,
the sight of Josh Thomas; more than a rumour. 


But the secret was kept behind tightly locked lips,
the surprise on said face, better than half-price chips.
The hour had past quite too soon,
and back out into the night to see the full moon.


As the rain poured down the outlook seemed bleak,
"Where was the car?" We both did speak.
In our excitement to see someone famous
we did do something, oh so shameless.


As the car did appear after prolonged searching,
the well soaked appearance was quite deserving.
with the heater on full in the hope of drying,
a thought of the end; well worth a sighing.


and then it was done,
we'd had all the fun,
of times in the sun,
the year before; quite outdone.




H.

 This is the blog post which was supposed to lament on the sorrow, and borrowed clichéd moments from days of mourning. Though despite the urge to write said post whilst sitting on that pew, listening to the preachings of the fabled afterlife hit me across the face like and angry ex-girlfriend, I thought it wise to restrain until proper dignity and etiquette left room for the much obliged. Resulting of which, this post about nothing really. Only the intent but nothing more could be remembered after the 5th cup of tea and the last tears of this day ebbed silently into the handkerchief.

There is something to consider; as a member of a stringently atheist family, my funeral or even those of my parents might be something to consider. It's all very well to go through the motions of the church service, and the psalm readings, and the hymns and rest of the churchy stuff, but when you simply don't believe, then what? The tried and tested format is wiped clean, leaving a 90 minute void to fill.

Atheist I may well be- I'm not a cynic. If JLD believed, then so will I for her for the two hours of glory she deserves as the center of the celebration. However, despite the fact I know and understand the ideologies behind the notion of spreading God's word, I can't even find the words to describe the idea of attempting to enlist me into joining such activities at my own grandmother's funeral. Boundaries surely must apply somewhere?

And in case you haven't heard yet, AND you don't want to be the hundredth relative to ask me today, yes- I like Geelong, No-  I don't really like Uni, and Yes- I did buy a Celica, and it is black. And just to be different, it surprises me too that I've managed to grow in the past seven years since seeing you. But seriously, your concern is much appreciated.

And just like that, the suits were put away, and the left-over sandwiches and slices gladwrapped and returned to the refrigerator to become the proceeding weeks lunches, it was all over, until next time. 


H.


I still don't recall hearing the fat-lady sing.

Sometimes I just feel tired. Tired of this. Sometimes I think its time to get a good night's sleep. Sometimes.


H.

The rock and the hard-place have never found a better spot.


I get the whole not knowing what to say/do/feel/whatever verb you feel like putting here.




I don't know why you don't notice the things I say to mean something.
I don't know if I care enough to care that you don't really care anyway.
I don't know why we should be so devastated about the inevitable.
I don't know why I can't take my last statement seriously.
I don't know why I just want to tell someone, I don't even want sympathy.
I don't know why I can't just talk to someone about something normal.
I don't know why I never bothered to know you better.
I don't know why I made every attempt to see you, and then didn't.
I don't know why I don't want to go.
I don't know why I spend $77.35 on chocolate.
I don't know why I have $0.32 left in my account.
I don't know how I'm supposed to eat next week.
I don't know why it matters to me that I have new shoes for Wednesday.
I don't know why I am who I am.
I don't know why I can't believe.
I don't know how to believe.
I don't know if I could believe.
I don't know why I feel more isolated at this home.
I don't know why it can't be you.
I don't know why I believed my lie for so long.
I just don't know.




And here's the part for something profound. Something which makes this whole post worthwhile. Well you know what? I've got nothing.




H.

So the plan was to subtly place chocolates at the doorsteps of the people I would want to wish "Happy Easter" without leaving a name, and hence removing the obligation of giving something back. Alas, it seems my plan was foiled by my predictability it seems.

But if you've read this, please don't waste your money on me, donate what you would have spent to the Good Friday Appeal or something more worthy. Plus you'll get a tax deduction, and thats always a plus.

AND if you didn't find the easter bunny came, sorry, its either you lived too far away [and petrol is like 54561561523c/L presently], or I didn't know your address, or I knew you were away visiting far away places, or I simply didn't have time to make the trip. And for that, I'm sorry. Yeah actually, this time I didn't venture past the boundaries of Mount Waverley. Sorry! 


H.

And again, the ensuing silence can mean only sadness.

And just like that, the world had gone from behind those frail eyes, the last breath escaped through those parched lips, and warmth slowly fading from the yellowing skin.