Why is blogging so hard on this blog!?

I’ve never been more indecisive and critical of anything like I have this blog.. I’ve lost the freedom of expression in this space. I’ve cleared this thing like a million times, why is it so hard to except this space doesn’t have to have a theme or order, it just is what it is.. fuck it’s so frustrating!!! Hovering a finger over the ‘delete posts’ button… Fuck you OCD.

Advertisements

∞ Mary Oliver

Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.

Expressive Arts: Self identity.

I tend to save images and art that I feel are expressive and moving to me. The title of this one pretty much sums up what this one means to me and what I deem as expressive arts. Some days we look in the mirror and struggle with self identity so our reflections of exactly who we are can be a little sketchy. This image captures that emotion perfectly.

My addiction…

For a minute I sit there in front of him trying to figure out what to say. How do I explain something that is almost impossible to explain? I try, but I stutter and fall over myself, perhaps because I’m not proud, or maybe it’s because I’m scared he will leave, and he knows it.

“It’s like being addicted to dying but being afraid of it at the same time,” I say. I’m staring at my hands afraid to look at him. I mindlessly spin a ring around my finger attempting to distract myself from thinking how stupid that must sound. I smile and laugh but it sounds false and seems hollow, every bad and degrading thought manifests in my mind at that moment. I want to close my eyes and hit erase.

“You know you can look at me, you think I don’t know what you’re thinking?” He gently shifts into my line of sight, “You forget I can feel this, even if at times I’d rather not, it’s not a choice. Maybe I don’t understand why, and I don’t ever want to, but I’ve been around long enough to see you go through the motions. Do I call myself an idiot, sometimes, but you are more than this,” he says, he has that look in his eyes, that same stone cold look of determination that warns me that he will win this.

“You’ll never understand addiction, not like this,” I’m biting back tears because even talking about it is making me want it and I’m ashamed. “Have you ever wanted something so badly that you’d soon kill yourself just to get it one last time?” I say. He fixes me with that amused, almost playful look he does so well, and I forget where I am for a minute, “Yes, yes I have, repeatedly,” he says. “Is that so?,” I say, now it’s my turn to be amused, “and what is it that you deem so worthy of your life to risk it?”

“You,” he whispers.

Review: We See The Stars by Kate Van Hooft (No Spoilers)

enlight1

The main charter in this story is a little boy, and I got sucked into his world and couldn’t turn back.

We See The Stars was written in a very specific way and it’s overemphasis on detail in any other story would be dragging but in this specific novel it was flawless and well needed. The attention to detail through the eyes of the main character really gave you a feel of what it would be like to not only be a child again, but perhaps makes you realise that children are much more in-depth then we think.

If you are looking for something out of the ordinary, and something that really connects you to a fictional world then We See The Stars should be your next read! I absolutely loved it, the author is inspiring to me personally and creatively gifted in both honesty and imagination.