Or is it?

Well, yes.
Much like Herman, Tenstal was also experiencing fits of unnecessary rage.
"It says I must click on personalise," Tenstal said slowly, his left eye twitching and a thin line of drool falling silently and unnoticed from the corner of his mouth.
"Huh?" Herman jerked the tea pot as he stepped backwards out of reflex. Everything he did these days seemed to be out of reflex and it incensed him to no end.
"I must find personalise, and then... what was it?" Tenstal ducked his head over to the mound of papers all piled haphazardly on a filing cabinet next to his desk. "Was it sonify?"
Herman said: "My cousin tried to make a love robot a number of years ago-"
"Program!" Tenstal called out happily, causing Herman to jerk his teapot upwards, hitting the low wooden ceiling beam.
"OWWWWWW!"
Hot tea splashed all over his leather-clad foot. "GOD DAMMIT! IT DIDN'T WORK, DID IT? THE BLOODY ROBOT SHORT-CIRCUITED MIDWAY AND NOW ITS BOTTOM IS BEING USED AS A FLOWERBED!"
"Personalise... then program..." Tenstal clicked. "Oh, Herman, are you making tea?"
"I BLOODY WELL AM NOT!"
However, Herman considered his options. He was, after all, holding a half-filled tea pot with boiling water inside, and he did enjoy handing out goodwill in the form of food and beverage. The only thing stopping him was a vision.
Yes, that vision.
It had happened four days prior to this ill-fated-foot-event, and it had involved a woman. Such a thin, ghostly form this woman had taken, that Herman spent a whole twenty minutes conversing with her about the horse stables down the track before realising that she was, indeed, alive, and therefore uninterested in a permanent place to set up her flourishing haunting business.
Tricked, I was, he thought bitterly as he spooned in heaped helpings of herbs. Played for my handsome features. Why! Surely a moment gazing at my face is worth more than a whole teacup of gold and silver, together!
Her name was Avery and she had come from the 'Peyying Gates', whatever that meant. Herman had no idea. One minute he had been sweeping the porch in a somewhat serene stupor (as it was baking day at Tenstals house and Tenstal always produced bewitched goods), and then the next, he had felt a light tap on his shoulder that made him squeal like a girl and topple into his swept-up pile of leaves.
"Why does everyone show such femininity when I present myself?" Avery had asked in a whisper.
Herman had scrambled up, spluttering on a taste of sharp pine, burnt wood, and a waxy syrup, and laid eyes upon the thinnest, palest, softest woman with the widest eyes and thinnest, longest, whitest hair he had ever seen.
"Excuse you!" he had rasped by accident.
Avery stared.
"I- I-" he tried to grasp a hold of what little dignity he had left, but it laughed at him from afar and sped off into the night, leaving Herman to display his wrinkled vulnerability instead.
"I'm looking for a young ma-"
"Oh! I don't think so!" Herman cut off shrilly. "I'm afraid no one lives here! At all! This is just an old house that needs a sweep from time to time..." he could feel his chest tighten.
Avery stood very still, like a photo. Only her pale hair moved, slowly, gently, in the lazy evening breeze. Her eyes searched over Hermans face with minimal interest.
"And I'm- they asked me, the councilman that is, asked me to sweep, and, so, they know where I am! I am on a register!" Herman's voice ascended higher and higher, until he was terrified it would disappear into the astral plane of no return. Trying to gain control of any part of this situation, he gave a quick cough to loosen his throat. "I have many friends!"
Avery tilted her head ever so slightly. "Do you?"
"Oh yes! A very lot of them!"
"I used to have a-"
"But they're down at the pond!" Herman cried, as shrill as ever. "So I should think they will return brisk and with all haste!"
Suddenly, Avery smiled a small, tight smile. It looked overused and easily accessible, as if she had spent a lot of time showing it off but virtually no time caring for it or allowing it to grow. This observation calmed Herman deep into his trembling core.
"I'm looking for something," she said while staring off vaguely at something over his shoulder.
He stepped forward. "Yes! You must be. And I know just the place."
And I very well did! He thought savagely to himself as he stirred the star-painted teacup furiously. How could I be helped? Not knowing she had never haunted anything in her entire life, because she was HUMAN?!
"BUT WHAT DOES 'OPEN FILE' MEAN?!" came Tenstal's yell of frustration.
"TOOTIN RIGHT!" Herman yelled back. "THE WORLD IS BLOODY MAD!"

Meet back here in an hour?

Time has crept along around me, like a shout carried by rough winds that take a while to reach the recipient.
I have been like Avery and Quintus both.. soft and slow like Avery, yet rushing and continuously panicked like Quintus.
It is tiring!
But I have been making progress. And isn't that what Avery is all about? She tries her hardest to accommodate- or maybe she doesn't try hard at all and just merely attends to the needs of others in a wistful way while coming across as accommodating since no one else bothers to try- and when times get tough, she climbs the mountain to meet them.
Quintus on the other hand is sort of soft and slow even though he gives off great energy. He wouldn't dream of climbing any mountain, let alone face his challenges or stare a foe in the face.
I don't blame him, to be honest, but I feel a little let down by him sometimes. I believed he had an amazing story to tell, but all he did was fall in love. But I mustn't dwell in this fictional land that sounds actually quite awesome and I kind of want to live there also.. I must fly free! Catch a cloud! Whip up some Positive Batter and fling it down at random people much like that monkey in that show.

A lot of my time has gone into watching tv and staring at my phone. Yes, I have a new job where I collect blood, work in hospitals, and somehow, even after carefully constructing my schedules, wake up even earlier than I ever did before. That's right! Starting work at 6am, much like my previous job, in an area CLOSER TO MY HOUSE, unlike my previous job, now requires me to wake up at the ungodly hour of 4.30am. I feel like most of the reason is due to parking, and the unreasonable '2 hour TICKET parking from 9-5' signs that I must deal with on a daily basis.

I have signed up at a gym! And I have gone! About six times! AAHAHAHA good times. But for real, it is good times, because the after-workout-buzz that hits the next day is phenomenal. It's also bad times because most of the time I can't be bothered going.

^__$


My days consist of blood, needles, forms, arms, and the occasional spelling mistake. They also consist of birds lured in by the way of purchased birdseed, ever-growing number of plants, street signs, cafe-style coffee, pants the size of a tent, and the odd chest pain/light arm/emergency ECG.
All the swell, all the time.

~ Adios


But there's a scream inside that we all try to hide..

If bees sting humans, who stings bees?

The Story Of Today ~ Part 1.

JUST KIDDING!!

There could never be a part 2 because I would have packed my bags and flown to Canada in protest, spite, and mild appreciation of their advertised love of all things Maple.

But also:

Yes.

So today marked the first day that I have ever had the utmost displeasure (107/10 would not verbally recount) of smelling something so foul, so putrid, so vomit-inducing that I was momentarily struck down by a fit of syncope.

For those who don't know, syncope is a cool new word that means faint or fainting. I was struck a-faint. 

As it was, I have not yet been able to tell this tale out-loud, for fear of inhaling the scent again upon speaking the very words of the thing I dare not mention!

It's a time.

SO, I woke up positively alurching into action- basically one minute I was asleep and the next I was upright and reaching for the kettle.

I turned on the kettle and remembered that the bins had to be put out today, actually, at this very minute, christ! And bae had gone!

I leapt to action, immediately spinning away from the kitchen appliances in all their crumbly and glowy-light glory, and power-walked out to the front of the house, slipped on shoes, flung open the door, and was greeted by a pleasant sunny morning with only a hint of cool air from the night before.

Now, my car is always in the way of the bin location. It is a sad state of affairs, but one that must continue until the day I retire from this place, or just retire in general and have some nice attractive young chap in nothing but low hanging jeans pull the bin to it's spot for me while I sip on champagne and eat cocktail sausages from my reclining deck chair that resides right outside the front window. 

Watching, but also critiquing, in the nicest way possible.

I managed to haul the regular bin to the spot, went back for the green bin, that we all know- even if I have never made it public- has issues. 

The first issue was that it didn't have a lid. So we got one. Then a gigantic spider decided to LIVE ON IT. Anyway, I tried to push it but remembered that, yes, this bin was actually full to the brim.

TO THE BRIM PEOPLE.

With what I assumed was dry, dead, grass and some of my plants that had grown beautifully until one day I realised in a spasm of horror that they all looked like their leaves were legs and I threw them in the bin, alive, to be rid of this abomination.

I thought, hey! I'm an ambitious young go-getter! Today will be the day I finally tip half of the contents out, out the bin out, then reload the stuff in preparation for next bin day, and be an absolute winner.

So I tried to push it over, but it would not push. Mark my words, this bin was trouble. I tried again, and again, and huffing and heaving and ACUTELY aware that I still had not had my morning coffee yet, I pushed the bin over, only to find...

WATER.

WATER AND THE RANKEST REEK THAT EVER WAFTED THROUGH THE AIR INTO UNSUSPECTING HUMAN NOSES.

UTTER STENCH.

The bin was filled to the top with grass and plants, and, SOMEHOW, water had gotten in and everything was a greenish, brownish, sludge that only ever deserves to live in the deep underground instead of innocent human rubbish bins.

We're not sure if the friendly gutter cleaner who mowed our damp grass last week had dumped the damp grass into the bin, or if the rain has somehow gotten inside due to a small leak, but whatever the reason, there was a shit tonne of water inside and it had been there long enough to ferment.

I ran back inside to get the outside broom, pulled on a coat, ran back out and started trying to scrape the sludge out with the end of the broom. This meant my face was almost in direct contact with the sludge. I scraped four times. Then I stood up, experienced the pre-syncope feelings of a light almost cold body, partial vision-loss, sway, and a mild draining of conscious. I staggered inside, fell in the hallway, and turned onto my back and thought 'did I almost faint from the smell?'

From smell?

and:

Can this be used a weapon??

This experience had awoken something in me. As I lay there festering in my growing hatred for this wet grass, I thought of marketing strategies and the price and safety requirements of glass bottles. I heard the bin truck pull up. I thought vaguely about getting up to move my car, but did not move for fear of fainting on top of the sludge.

The feeling slowly dissolved into a hunger for breakfast. So I called my mother, staggered up and made my way slowly to the kitchen where I turned the kettle on again. Sat down. Took a sip of coffee and in that INSTANT, I realised with great clarity.. this coffee tasted like the stench of wet sludge.

 o       o

  \___/

  )     (

 -------

(; __  ;)

   

So... how is your Skyrim quest really going?

= THINGS I NEED IN MY LIFE STAT =

Ahoy.
It has come to my attention, once again, just how sloth-like I really am. Maybe that's why Bae likes me so much! Or maybe that's why my car always smells mildly of food.. who's to say!?
If I continue going this way I will end up literally and figuratively sewn into my bed.
Is there any other place I'd rather be? Of course not! Bed is life! But it is also where the legs cannot stretch, the eyes wander away from the heinously bright blue computer/phone/ipad/other 25th century nonsense, and  I N E R T I A  sets in. Hello, Inertia! Nice to meet you! Stay and have some tea- in fact, scrap that- have some fucking coffee because I am a COFFEE ADDICT YO.
BUT TEA WOULD ALSO BE INCLUDED SHOULD GUESTS DESIRE THE URGE. However, it is highly discouraged, and severely frowned upon.

At this very minute I have a banana peel in the door shelf of my car. Yes. My car has a door and built into that door there be a little dipped shelf thing, and certainly, in the course of my traumatic day-to-day driving there might at some point live a microscopic, yellowing but also browning at the same time in a confusing way, fresh as fuck peel of a once-ripe banana. The insides consumed! The outer layer of protection now thrown away in disinterest, and, most likely, with sudden haste due to an approaching vehicle of the police kind!
But not to worry!
The peel and etc will be cleaned out with sure urgent intentions, even if they only reside inside my head.
WHATEVER ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT??
~ ALL THE THINGS! FOR I AM YOU, AND YOU ARE ME, AND WE ARE ONE BECAUSE NO ONE HERE HAS A SPLIT PERSONALITY.
(It's true, we don't)
That would be weird.
But also, welcomed, and treated with respect.

Basically the above is just fancy-talk to describe my lazy ways. I have the sloth shirt that proves I am actually as lazy IRL as I appear to be in WEB BLOG.

I need yoga! And fresh fruit smoothies! And, like, those colourful health protein powders, and, on that note, hair dye!! So I can cover my magical silver slivers with something that makes me look my actual 24 years of age! Amen.
While I'm getting my wishes did up in this grill, I also desperately need a haircut! And another three tattoos, a piercing- perhaps a few more in the ear- new clothes! New work clothes, a new handbag with pretty patterns, more crystals, more bags or soil for my never-ending plant supply, a coffee machine, a fake orchid to sit in the bathroom, pink bathmats.. because I need pink in my life! and basically ~ I  just need to magick my life up!
So much boring! All the time!


☆ Here Are Some Life Choices You Probably Thought I Would Never Make ☆

~ I sleep in all the time. Like, I would rather sleep a little more than get up for recreation fun time

~ My diet consists of chips, toast, chocolate and or cake, coffees, meat, and a little more veg than a few months ago because I experiment in the kitchen nowadays

~ There is no exercise. YOU SHOULD KNOW THIS. I BLOG ABOUT MY LACK OF PHYSICAL HEALTH ALL THE TIME, WHICH IS WEIRD, BECAUSE I AM NOT PROUD OF IT

~ Ok, I know we've done this, but I LITERALLY have no clothes. I have to constantly wash my clothes because they get dirty then I have none. As a female of the modern age, I feel like this is a code ... blue? Blue for physical emergency? It's not, it's black, and it's personal threat, which I feel I am currently in!

~ A lot of my possessions aren't authentically mine. Like my car, for instance. I may have recently experienced a car accident, and as much as I LOVE the clean, fresh, ordered insides of Uber cars, there is only so much money a girl can comfortably spend on a luxurious chauffeur before doubting her self-worth. Hence! Purchasing a $650 dollar car, COMPLETE with patterned seat covers yet somehow incomplete due to a missing inside door handle.
-- It's just so nice to have patterned seat covers and not stained actual seats y'all


SO!!!
I feel like a sloth and I NEED to change my fun-loving, couch-sitting, bed-lounging, computer-scrolling ways, even though I am aware how adorable I look in this sloth shirt.
It's gettin real yo.

☆ Changes I Need To Do.. Or At The Very Least Pretend To Attempt To Do While Looking Very Serious About It ☆

~ From today, I need to exercise. I am aware that my previous anxiety could likely be due to lack of anything physical except the annoying bend and twist of the work life.
  -- I need to
    1. Jog around the block in the sunlight.
    2. Do 5 push ups and 5 sit ups.
I am aware that jogging or running incorrectly can fuck you up. Also, I understand that incorrect physical activity can result in unplanned pregnancies, so it's a chance you take, and death could be upon us tomorrow (in a spontaneous event like a car crash or a stabbing), therefore, Do Your Research and RUN LIKE YOU MEAN IT YOU LOSER
But also, you're amazing and I have the deepest respect for your continuous efforts that you put into your life everyday and smash them you dawg

I literally have no idea ~ ~

    * *;.
    /\    *;
   /  \      **
  /    \
 ****
(6__^)              #buygymwear  #drinkasmoothie  #cryintoyourcelerysticks

Did I ever show you my magic trick?

The fact was, Marlo had never chosen anything in his life. He had successfully avoided every single choice so far, and as he had lived on this planet for the past 22 years, this was quite a feat.
Until he met Hazel.
Hazel asked him all sorts of questions. She said things like: "This isn't enough!"- which alerted Marlo to the realisation that he was unwittingly denying himself- and "I can't believe you didn't bring it!"- which made Marlo suddenly aware of all the items he could have brought if only he had took the time to think about it.
"I don't see why I have to chose," he would reply to anyone who questioned him, before turning abruptly and stalking off.
"Well you're a bloody person aren't you?" Hazel retorted back the first time he had done this, while buying profiteroles from a food truck. "Don't you want things?"
Marlo had shook his head slowly, as if giving it some thought.
Hazel had stared. Finally, she had said: "I can only imagine how you sleep at night," before ordering caramel.
"On my back," he supplied, with a fleeting scowl that was quickly replaced by overwhelming contentment, bordering on euphoria.
Unbeknownst to Marlo, Hazel felt his heightened emotional state. His energy pooled and surged around his body, and on a night like this, where he had once again escaped the strangling experience that was providing an answer to a riddle his brain couldn't cope with, his energy flooded out to invade other spaces.
Hazel kept her energy clean, light, and constant. She had no time for the chaos that people resided in. She couldn't understand how they lived their lives with their physical being so submerged in the heavy, hollow drudge that dripped- or flew- onto her like globs of honey whenever she got too close.
For instance, just the other day Hazel had been walking down the street minding her own business, when a young man wearing a suit had sprinted past in a flurry of mixed cologne and medium-strength regret. His close proximity had sprayed her shoulder with little blue-and-yellow-streaked drops, staining her sleeve an off-mustard colour, and leaving a waft that brought up a long forgotten memory of when Hazel had walked into an unused sitting room at a strangers house as a child.
Hazel understood how close and tight the world could get.
"Well then," she stepped away slightly as she held out a profiterole, "Let's go to the park."

When is a haze not a haze?

Marlo thought hard about the selection he had to choose from. He had searched for a long time to find them all, and now they were laid out before him. There was something wrong, though. Marlo felt it with certainty. All the colours were wrong, for a start, and the tops differed in size in a way that calmed his aching soul... but not enough. A sliver of soul still ached, his body sagged ever so slightly with apparent vague fatigue, so he ran his eyes over each one, as if he was a computer scanning for errors.
Suddenly he reached out and touched one. Then another. And another. He recoiled with a dawning realisation and a prickle of something other than hunger.
Every single one shared the same fabric.
"The touch is wrong!" he swiped the 68 hats from his bed menacingly and gave a strangled cry at his broken fingernail.
"Are you breaking down again?" asked his kitten, who sat curled up in the shadows watching with a look of disdain.
Marlo spun around. "You would, too, if you had to deal with this UNSATISFACTORY BEHAVIOUR!"
"Marlo..." came a voice from behind him. The kitten muttered something with a tone that sounded like exasperation.
Marlo turned back and saw someone climbing into his bedroom window. "Hazel?" He whispered. His heart was beating too loud for him to hear his own thoughts, but he thought it must be her. Hazel had long pale legs, long pale arms, narrow hips, and translucent hair that glowed a little pink at the top of her head and ran all the way down to her ankles.
Watching the mystery person now, Marlo could just see a flicker of a tattoo on the elbow area before they straightened up.
"Hazel!" his legs almost gave way. "What are you doing here?"
"... loud, the old toad couldn't finish his speech."
Marlo swiped at his ears to stop the niggling ringing. "What?"
Hazel stared at him with her big grey eyes. She said, "I could hear you. You're soul was aching." Her eyes fell on the pile of tossed hats and her expression changed.
"I was not!" Marlo hastily and messily scooped them up. He stood up and remembered he didn't have anywhere to store them, then realised why they were hidden around the house. He glared at the kitten.
"I did nothing," the kitten replied.
"Briar doesn't have to tell me," Hazel said calmly.
The hats weighed heavy in Marlo's arms. His shoulders slumped a little more.
"But still," Briar said as he licked a paw and stretched out onto all fours. "Still I do." And he trotted out of the room with his tail high.
Marlo hurled the hats at the doorway. "THEY'RE ALL WRONG AND BRIAR KNOWS IT!" He turned to Hazel. "All the fabric is the same." his voice cracked, panic rose up seemingly inside every space of his body, tears pricked in the corner of his eyes.
"Yes, I can see that."
He stared at her. Her aura floated lazily in the way it does when it's cold, because Hazel was cold, and fresh, and still. She was like a stalagmite glittering inside a dark and dangerous cave.
Marlo was hot, all the time. He had never seen his own aura, but Hazel had described it as "swirling and bubbly like hot cocoa", and Marlo knew she was right. Sometimes he wanted nothing more than to rip his aura away and eat it. He wanted to kill it in the most savage way possible.
"WELL IT SHOULDN'T BE!" Anger rose up to join panic.
Hazel walked closer, taking her time and looking around at things in his room.
"Hazel, it shouldn't be..." Marlo said desperately.
"Mmm," she said quietly, glancing at his torn shirt draped on the chair."Why not?'
"It's wrong..." Marlo could hardly breathe now. He watched her walk slowly towards him, and he wanted to pace away from her, but also fall right into her.
"Stay still, darling."
The ringing had increased to a boiling kettle shriek and his heart thumbed with such force he was afraid of standing still and being thumped right into his closet. "I can't... Hazel, I can't..."
Hazel stepped up right in front of him and raised her head. Marlo opened his hands, unaware that they had been clenched into fists. He could only see her mouth move as she said something. He blinked, and Hazel moved closer until she floated right into him like a haze of sparkling star smoke.

What if one thing led to another, but then it never went further?

~ I STILL HAVEN'T FOUND SHOES THAT FIT ~

"Hey remember that one song from 2011...?"

~

★
I got a secret

I think I was born to be in a state of longing
born to be wanting, wanting

I put it in a letter to you,
yeah, it's true that I've changed,
what was once is now broken
broken in two

I feel like a travelling salesman
even though I'm a woman
If you lay down beside me
you'll feel that I'm cold, it's true

I'd be lying if I didn't say
I'm just playing a game and I'm empty
but I'm also the same
believe me it's true

I love the danger in distance
★
~


I feel like a travelling salesman
                          even though I'm a woman . . .

Where did I misplace my self-identity, and how can I exchange it for something else?

Day Two in the quest of ...

~✨ Rid Cerri's room of unused and unwanted items forevermore, while also adding in chic clothes, mystical items of other-world magic, and arrange all in a calming, spacious, organised way ✨~ 

So far I have entirely emptied two of my dresser drawers, Marie Kondo'd all underwear, sock, and misc hat etc clothing drawers, arranged the box drawers on my desk to stack on top of each other to create more space, and cleaned out one paper folder that contained old 'to do' lists from 2011 to present- because who still needs a grocery list of the 9 things I bought one Friday in 2013?

Exactly.

Smashin' it!

Currently in the process of creating a master 'to do' list of all the general life goals I wish to achieve so I can get rid of the 8 separate ones I have now.

To keep me motivated throughout this gruelling process, I stream Sherlock BBC series on low in the background.

Past Cerri was rockin that shiz.

Things I Have Found and Promptly Thrown Out/Recycled Due To My New Rule

This new rule is 'IF YOU DON'T WANT IT, JUST TOSS IT, LASSIE!'... 'No! Don't stare at it wondering if you'll ever need it again! These unanswerable questions will just add lines to your face and take years from your life! Just Bin It!'

So! ~~

❊ The stretchy ties that come with new shoes that I might someday make into a hairtie if I was ever lacking 

❊ An unidentifiable long piece of firm but stretchy strip of plastic that calms my soul and realigns my Chakras just holding it

❊ A few torn off corners from coffee sachets

❊ A black whiteboard marker that doesn't work

❊ An orange sticky note that says: Head Side Top of paper this End

❊ A broken plastic spoon

❊ Two thick strips of foam

❊ Eight plastic packets that once contained menstrual pads that I feel guilty adding to landfill, even though it's up to the companies to create recyclable packaging

❊ Three pieces of orange crepe paper

❊ Two broken plastic knitting needle holders

❊ A tiny bell and collar that came off a Lindt chocolate Easter rabbit last year that I was saving, also, in case I needed an impromptu hair-tie in a hurry

❊ One black piece of crepe paper

❊ A box that used to contain a Christmas cake topper, for whatever reason

❊ The actual Christmas cake topper

❊ Any sock that has a hole in it, which is Eleven

❊ The top of a gatorade bottle

❊ An opened plastic cutlery package

❊ Two ripped plastic bags

❊ The lid of a jar

❊ A quarter of a container of bubble blowing solution I have had since 2013

❊ A small round plastic firm circle inside one of those little plastic bags that I have NO IDEA what is used for

⭑ ⭑ ⭐   ✫   ✴     ✦      ✭    ✳     ✺   ~ Stay tuned for more absurd discoveries on the Cerri channel! 

 

  ________

 '   ]        [   '

      ]___[

  (8) ___ (8)

Would you like fries with your internal squeeing?

One

        I gave away almost all of my clothes in a fit of change, and now have no jumpers, only one over-sized ugly but warm coat, four black t-shirts and one brown t-shirt that are a tad too small, absolutely NO jeans, one fake-leather leggings that are so peeled and worn it's criminal and cannot be worn out in public unless I'm in one of my The-World-Can-Get-Fucked moods, two pairs of elastic work pants, a range of dresses that neither fit me nor inspire any confidence in me to actually wear, two pairs of shorts: one new and amazing, one old, small, and paint-stained, a bunch of skirts that are two sizes too small allowing my love-handles to spill over the sides in an unflattering way, and a bunch of out-dated work shirts that need to be ironed after washing, even though the iron never ever ever ever gets all the creases out.

Two

       I entered my room this morning in a fit of I WILL CHANGE MY WHOLE ROOM BUT WITHOUT ACTUALLY MOVING ANY FURNITURE BECAUSE I PHYSICALLY AND LOGISTICALLY CAN'T, but then sat down and searched pinterest for over an hour and realised I desperately need to go vegan and eat gut-pleasing foods.

Three

       Because of being poor, during the course of my short life I have hardly thrown out any of my accumulated possessions. It's recently become quite a burden in the sense that I am stuck in the past whenever I open a drawer or pull out a box. I need to fix this! But I have this clenched up vault door that creaks in alarm and protest whenever I decide to have a clean out. It says 'NO, you treacherous man-child! Keep all these items for ONE DAY you will surely need them, and then ON THAT DAY, you will curse the heavens and I will have to listen to your damn lamenting as if you had suddenly become a baby lamb. BLEAT NOT, HUMAN SLUG, JUST SETTLE AND GO ON WITH YOUR DAILY LAME.'

To which I will understandably reply: 'Um... what?' and also: 'Man child?'

Four

       But I desperately need to update my wardrobe- or just buy ONE other pair of pants for the love of god- and I do need more of other things, like crystals, and incense, and fairy statues, and basically anything and everything from a magickal shop. When I have these things, I can then become the super woman that I have always dreamed of becoming where I don't lounge around all day eating bags of chips in my torn up fake leather pants and over-sized adult shirt for men, watching iZombie and Horror Houses in grim satisfaction, admiring my plant garden and birds pecking at the lawn at intervals, and generally running around in mad panic when I have to do anything seriously adult like grocery shopping or go to work.

Five

       The mess of life is severely underrated. It can never be overrated, because life just shifts from serene cruise mode to sudden INSTANT DEATH mode, where the gear has been yanked into first, rain is suddenly pelting down from all sides, and the speed limit flashing at you from your water-stained windscreen is one hundred and TWO THOUSAND - one hundred and TWO THOUSAND - GET READY TO PARTAYYYYYYYYY.

In the worst way possible.

Which is fine if you plan for such a change. But if you're chowing down cheesy-McCheese-with-added-cheese chips and laughing at undead one-liners one minute, and then trying to find the lime juice in an overcrowded supermarket with 'under pressure' playing on the radio while blinking back tears of rage as people cut you off every ten seconds with their crammed shopping trolleys the next minute, with no in between.. well. You in mess.

Six

       I am in love with migoreng noodles and sushi train, and these things sustain me throughout all.

Seven

       What is progress if not those little googly-eyed dog stickers on fridge and cupboard doors? Instantly cleaning tissues? Eating all the food? A quarter-filled rubbish bin on pick up day? Continuously cleaning as per the implemented cleaning plan? Lights? Labels? A solid 'Hey, I know we're both parmesan cheese addicts, but I left you the last of the parmesan cheesy garlicky mushroom chicken from last night, even though I'm jonesing for it so bad, enjoy. I will record you eating so I can watch it later'.

It's deliciousness and honor in the highest form.

Eight

       At some point in my life I would love to have all my papers sorted and aligned to a system. 

Nine

       This one time I had a cold sore and my grandmother told me to put honey over it to make it go away. So I did. And just like a love-struck man who is foolishly lured into the forest by a bewitching maiden fairy who is really just an ugly old man covered in a glamour spell who is really just a bewitching maiden fairy under a disguising spell gone wrong and a cover spell gone right, my cold sore bloomed out over my lip as menacing and mocking as ever until it burst off leaving a scar.

The moral is: just because it is sweet, doesn't mean it is good.

Ten

       There was once a time where I wanted to choose tea over coffee. I ached for it, yearned to be able to make the switch, then sank into a pit of despair whenever I was lured back in to that sweet addictive aroma by my weak-willed ways. We do not talk about that time.

Amen.

o     o

 \ o /

  \/\/

  ]^[

4__4

If you're not a zombie yet, are you even trying?

Lily hands me a wide-lipped jar containing a greenish liquid that splashes a little onto my fingers.
"Lily!" I wipe my hand on my jeans, wondering if she even noticed.
She darts halfway around the cauldron and glares dramatically at the bubbles popping and rising up to greet her face.
"And... what exactly is this greeny stuff?" I ask, wincing as my fingers start tingling.
"Greeny stuff!" Lily exclaims, looking up as a bubble pops near her chin. "Darma, this is a potion to find your dreams! Knock down the naysayers! Put an end to those who declare 'we command you conform in the sheeplest way possible'! This is-"
"Yes, yes, ok, sheesh." I'm not one hundred percent certain, but I'd bet my uncle Ferl's wooden rat memorabilia that Lily has been obsessed with cauldrons and potions since vanishing through a particular stone archway located in the town cemetery two years ago, and reappearing next to a water fountain on the other side of town two months and four days later.
Lily raises her arms theatrically and stares at me with the widest greenest, eyes ever to exist. "If done correctly, Darma, this can heal the dreamless, give shove to the apathetic- in a nice way, obviously- bring spark to the bored, and, even, allow whites and darks to be washed together!"
"Ohh," I nod. "Well I could do with that."
I could. Too many of my white lingerie had turned a pinky beige that clashed astoundingly (and unflatteringly) with my orange-red hair.
"Exactly!" Lily finishes in a triumphantly smug way. "You can be the first to try it!"
"What? Try it?" I look at the jar with waning interest. The liquid inside fills half the jar and is a chartreuse colour, thin and innocent-looking, calm, translucent, and yet somehow sinister.
"Oh I know!" I suddenly understand. "It looks like snot, that's why. It's the same colour."
Suddenly a voice speaks right next to my ear. "Darma, ok-"
I scream and drop the jar. It bounces on the carpet, the liquid splashes out over Lily's wooden bed-frame and purple sheet covers, then the jar rolls right under her desk.
Lily snatches it up like a lightning strike from a vexed and well-trained Zeus.
There's banging from downstairs. "You girls better not be making another potion in there!" Lily's mother's voice floats up.
Lily sighs. "We're doing homework!" she yells back.
"Does she have a super long bat down there or something? To hit the ceiling like that?"
"Listen, seriously, stop being so jumpy ok?" Lily says as she dips the jar back into the cauldron.
"There was still a bit left!" I exclaim, outraged at being presented with fresh potion.
"Just so you know, I am not a ninja, I just hate wearing shoes so no one ever hears me walk. It's not a super power, it's just practicality."
I let out a breath. "Lily, where did you go that day from the arch? Also, I have an avocado plant I need to change the water so I have to go home, I'll try your potion next-"
"Darma." Lily walks slowly over to me, making sure to press each foot heavily into the carpet, holding the potion in both hands and looking like an angry flowergirl at her enemy's wedding. "I have admired you since we met."
"Girls!" Lily's mother calls up again. "What did I say?"
"I'm just walking!" Lily yells.
"Can you possibly be more feminine about it?"
My head starts to ache. I watch as Lily walks right up to me. She holds the jar out. I remember when her hair was a golden brown and her face was round. She used to wear jeans, glittery jewellery, and had never even been inside a piercing store. Now she dresses in black, dyes her hair black, has twenty nine piercings and lost so much weight her cheeks collapsed into themselves and her hip bones press into my flesh whenever we hug.
"Really, where did you go?"
Lily smiles. "The jar holds all answers."
"Come on, I was your best friend. You can tell me."
Her smile widens. "The Jar."
I sigh loud and long. Then all of a sudden I hear a hissing sound. "Oh! That's not me!" I say automatically.
"SHIT!" Lily points past me.
I whirl around and see wafts of smoke rising up from the bed-frame.
We both gasp in unison. "But there's no fire?" I say, confounded and entranced in equal measure.
"Oh noooo," Lily moans, running to her desk. She flips papers over, muttering. I watch the smoke curling into elegant tendrils like mysterious orphaned acrobats, until she gives a mild scream of panic. "Darma, they're melting!"
"What?"
"EXCUSE ME LADIES!"
"What's melting?" I ask stupidly as the hissing grows louder, much like a swarm of peeved bees.
Lily's great-grandfather storms into the room, rather grand and rather rotund, carrying a gigantic purple fire extinguisher. He grabs hold of the nozzle, pulls the pin, and presses a button. There's a loud sound like a car horn. "Whoops!" he cackles, and pulls another pin, and presses another button. A stream of bubbles come out of the nozzle.
"You're pulling all the wrong pins!" Lily shouts.
"And most likely pressing all the wrong buttons!" I add, to feel useful.
Without any warning, the floor under Lily's bed gives way and crashes down onto the floor below.
"Christ almighty!" Lily's great-grandfather cries out.
"It's the broom!" Lily says, "I shouldn't have brought it into the house!"
"GIRLS!" Lily's mother's voice shoots up from the hole, now much clearer and angrier.
I turn to Lily, "You wanted me to drink that?"

    &
(^_@)v     ० * ০ ⁰ ੦ ۰೦

... but I'm still in the tub!

How many speeds does a broomstick have?

Apart from the heat and sitting in his favourite outdoor chair (a large round-backed cafe chair that could seat two men, painted red, with tiny holes in the shape of hearts), Chester had no plans whatsoever.
So it irked him when the telephone rang. He groaned with effort as he hoisted himself out of his beloved chair, set down his mug of raspberry leaf tea with such force that liquid spilled over the edges, and hurried inside as fast as his little legs would carry him.
"Yes! Hello?!" he squeaked with an off-putting rasp.
"Hello, is this Chester Mortimer, from 19-49 Surmsace Potting Lane, a mile from Lorten, which happens to be south of Winchester Awn-"
"Yes! Yes!" Chester cut in impatiently. "It Christ well is! Christ!"
"Sorry?" The woman at the other end said, sounding as though she hadn't understood a word Chester had said.
"I said 'yes! This is Chester Mortimer', what do you want?"
"Oh, I see, so you are Chester Mo-"
"Woman! I am sunbathing in my most comfortable chair under the hottest sun England has ever experienced- which isn't all that hot mind, but we have to do- and I will be damned if I am interrupted by some sales clerk who wastes my time asking me the same questions the entire phone call!"
"I'm terribly sorry, sir," the woman continued in her calm, high-pitched voice. "Are you alright?"
"Am I what?" Chester squeaked.
"I said 'A R E  Y O U  A L L RIGHT?', I'm ringing to speak with a Mr Chester Mortimer, you sa-"
Chester abruptly hung up the phone and trotted back outside to sit in his favourite chair under the sun, where he had peace and tea in the sweetest taste of berry that money could buy.


Oh she's sweet but a psycho..

How bout unabashedly bawling your eyes out?

~

How bout getting off these antibiotics

How bout stopping eating when I'm full up

How bout them transparent dangling carrots

How bout that ever elusive Kudo


Thank you India
Thank you terror
Thank you disillusionment
Thank you frailty
Thank you consequence
Thank you thank you silence


How bout me not blaming you for everything

How bout me enjoying the moment for once

How bout how good it feels to finally forgive you

How bout grieving it all one at a time


The moment I let go of it was the moment
I got more than I could handle
The moment I jumped off of it
Was the moment I  t o u c h e d  d o w n


How bout no longer being masochistic 

How bout remembering your divinity

How bout unabashedly bawling your eyes out

How bout not equating death with stopping


Thank you India
Thank you providence
Thank you disillusionment
Thank you nothingness
Thank you clarity
Thank you thank your silence

~