secrets.

it's not hard. or addictive. or inescapeable.
its not want. or desire. or need.
really, everything we do, is because were on a path of self destruction that we don't even realise.
we blame everyone else for fucking us up. Our parents. Our love. Our mistakes. look at the first word. it's not them. it's because they're linked with us. Regrets are just a way of wishing things were different. that you didnt fuck up, because you don't have anyone else to blame it on. regrets are the truth.
our feelings. emotions. lies. the things we do to cover our tracks or keep the person we want most, and we know its wrong. its one more thing, because that person, or the thing were covering, could very well be the destruction of us anyway.
we walk right into the traps of our lives.
and we struggle, and call for help and try to get out.
but we'll walk straight into another trap.
we are, the definition of self destruction.
all it takes is ourselves.

i am, in love with you.

this is a message to you, pixie.
because i need to know that you can hear me.

your lying in my arms. your always lying in my arms because the very air that surrounds you, that rests against your skin like a small net of pressure, of warmth, is me. i am that air. that you see escaping from your lips on a cold day, stirring up the settled presence around you. close your eyes now, slowly. i am that darkness. the creeping, settling sensation of pitch black as your eyelids close to the light. when the colours fade just for a little while, and your lost in the bliss of nothingness. warm, and safe, and dreaming. i am that dream, too. that gentle thought that encloses on your mind while your body is still like i asked it to be, the rush of experience and brilliance that you only get to experience that one night. by tomorrow, that experience of me will be gone. as i told you, press your hand to your heart, and feel the beats it pulsates through your body flow like electricity into your fingertips. i am that electricity. i flow from the pulsating shape of your heart through whatever objects stand in my way, to find myself slipping gently into your fingertips. press your fingers to your lips, gently now. hold them still, and safe there. that's our kiss. i am that kiss. i brush against the resting shape of your tinted lips through the form of electricity pulled straight from the core of your body, straight from the heart of love. while the gentle pressure of my electric kiss is against you, you are safe. listen now. can you hear it? there's a wind you can just make out against this backdrop, and its colliding softly with the static in the air to find its way into your ears. whispering like secrets. i am that wind. hushing, and cooing, and soothing you, till your body is too heavy to notice anything else. take a deep breath now, my love. i am that breath. i fill your lungs with the oxygen you need to go on, and i burn them with the rush of carbon dioxide as you exhale. i am that tingling warmth that carrasses its way over the parting of your lips and off into the air, like a balloon carrying a message. i wonder who will be next to breathe that breath. relax now, for i am you. every single second, of every single day.

listen to me bella.

this is harder than i thought, ignoring her. i keep checking my phone to see if there's a text but i know that there won't be. i guess she meant most of what she said to me, because she's given up just like she accuses me of. granted im stubborn, theres nothing to stop me texting her, but im wounded really, a lot of what she said got to me more than she can know.
it'll be weird to keep writing this everyday without seeing her name on the page anymore if things can't be fixed. her code name, anyway. but what she doesn't understand is that she's not got the nickname captain for nothing. when your captain of a ship, that is your responsibility, that ship and how it sails is down to you, no matter what, whether you like it or not. it's what you were born to do no matter how the sea gets, but she's forgotton.
she still love's alright. there's no question about it.
but she's forgotton what it's like to be willing to give up anything, and not spare a second thought on it because it's for that one special person that matters more than life or limb.
forgotten what is like to lose time, sleep and tears over heartache.
forgotten what it's like to sit up all night, or lose yourself on a bus ride to the thoughts of whats to come, about how good yesterday was and how bursting with love the seams of today are.
she hasn't forgotten love. she's forgotten what comes with it.
if you looked up love in a thesauraus, the other would would be sacrifice. they come hand in hand. but they don't feel like sacrifice's when you mean them with every heartbeat you have to offer.
she's been better than anything i've ever known. meeting her, was like being born again, but i let her down. she let me down.
maybe i don't love so easy either. i used to be full of passion and effort and strength, i used to take everything as it came and let it do it's worst, knowing we'd still be alright at the other end.
in 3 days, we would have made it 2 years.

if i could say anything to her right now, it'd be the confession of how i always hold her ribbon when im talking to her, it still smells of her. i've kept it safe. it'd be how, i printed off her country girls picture, and it's stuck on my locker like a secret im dying to tell. it'd be how, i always find myself playing bella's lullaby when were not talking, when we hate, subconciously hoping my own bella, her, will hear it somehow. if i could say anything to her right now, everything i have to admit would carry us safely into oblivion again.

when your on the edge of letting go, it's the strangest feeling you get. it's like being on a drop ride as it drop's, and you leave your stomach up in the air. it's like feeling theres someone in your house that shouldn't be there, the rush of terror before the calm. it's like slipping, when your trying so hard to hang on but your losing strength in your fingertips. it's like the sting of a thousand hits and the hurt of a thousand words all forged into one.
is this just like all the times before?

"im not letting you go. i have you on a rope, and your not going anywhere".

enlighten me.

as she stepped across the corridor to collect the papers the other students had scattered all over the slippery, tiled floor, he watched her from the side of the scene, leant against the radiator with an aura of attitude penetrating the air that surrounded him. He hadn't noticed this girl before, maybe she was too ordinary to notice, but now that she'd crashed into his line of vision it was strange to think he hadn't paid attention to her, she was new though, he could tell. she seemed to have 'new girl' stamped across her forehead like she'd been branded with it at birth. As she bent to scuffle up her scrunched up papers, he spared a second to look at what she was wearing. She had an authentic image, almost vintage but with a twist. Her hair was tangled, with a bandana located amidst it, it could have been the wind, but it seemed like she intended it to be this way. backbrushed. "interesting", he thought. He used bandana's as wrist ties, as disguises but strangely he liked how this suited the red haired girl. She was tall, he could see that even as her legs folded beneath her, "must be intimidating" he assumed, but it gave her an edge that he quite liked. Her fingers were long as the clawed out at the floor, and her cheeks were a little flushed where she'd come in from the cold. He knew this because her boots were still covered in snow. "Boots", he thought to himself, "she must be badass". Shifting his back where it was digging into the temperature knob on the radiator, he lowered his eyes to the buckles on her boots, smirking slightly at them. He liked metal. So did she, clearly. She had a necklace on, he could see it hanging from her pale skin, she was white even against the backdrop of the snow, " a vampire perhaps?" he joked to himself. The necklace was shaped like a button, it didn't or at least shouldn't fit with the image, but he guessed she wasn't from around here. She obviously didn't try too hard to fit in. Retreating his eyes a little, as she looked up at him from across the way, he held her stare as he fixed his eyes on her, a contrasting colour, blue on brown. He grinned slightly as she twisted her features up in a "what the fuck are you looking at?" kind of way, and dropped her head again to push herself up as people swerved round her. It was because people were dodging her huddled shape that he noticed the one person that was not. A renound clumsy idiot from the year below who was too caught up in his probably gleaming school report was tracking his way directly down her path. Pushing up from the wall casually, people stepping aside to avoid a collision, he took a few long strides, no longer being short of height himself across to her, and slid to a halt in time to hook shoulders with the moron about to trample her. He didn't know why he'd bothered really, he didn't usually have many instincts that he listened to, but the mystery surrounding this new girl intrigued him, he liked a challenge. When the two shoulders crunched against each other, he rolled his eyes to the blundering "sorry's" protruding from the boy's mouth and cocked his head to the side, an instruction to go round. Turning with a slightly smug grin, knowing now at least she owed him her name, he bent down and took a hold on her elbow, pulling her up with accurate strength. Lifting his eyes over her features like they were sifting for a fault, he watched hers attack him with annoyance at needing help.
"Casper", he introduced, folding his arms defiantely midword, his stance telling her enough about his character.
Waiting for the reply she owed him, he stood there admiring her behind the front he had on. always had on, and narrowed his eyes slightly as the mysterious smile reappeared back onto her face. before he had chance to decipher what this meant, she answered him, pushing her way past his shoulder as she did. For a new girl, her attitude almost matched his.
"Pixie", was the reply.
Spinning on his heels, he watched her weave her way confidently through the crowd, still sensing her smile through the air. He knew this couldn't be her real name, if it was she wouldnt admit to it, so he wondered what the connotation behind it was. Maybe it was what she went by. It was certainly different if nothing else.
Moving back to his previous position against the wall as he pulled an apple from his bag, twisting it between his fingers subconciously, he returned to his own thoughts, not caring about the peoples paths he was obstructing. Pixie definately wasn't her real name. She was a mystery. She was a challenge.
He was after her.

shake me up.

before any of you can really understand me, inside and out. you need to know how it is i live.
i plan everything. mainly for a bit of variety, because when you wake up in the city. tomorrow is today. and yesterday is today. it's all the same. everything.
imagine waking up on a summers day, and hearing, like you should, the bluetit thats nested in the gutter above your room. then imagine, that sound being drowned out by the growling sound of a moterbike engine chugging its way down your road much faster than it should be. followed by cars, a million and one cars all filled with people on there way to offices, schools, appointments. important places right? wrong. but they're important to the people trying to get there. that completely disregard everybody else for the sake of themselves. maybe they need to see a woman in a red dress amongst the blurred grey figures of men in business suits and women carrying they're heels as they walk along in trainers, to make them stop for a second. break the mould. you'll get up and out of habit move straight to get dressed. it matters what you wear, because peoples looks can be chilling. you can see from across the street when somebody disapproves. eyes. they tell you everything. or at least they do when you learn to read them. sometimes i think that because i have unusual eyes, it lets me read deeper into all the normal eyes. searching. for another unusuality amongst the regular. so you find something, reasonably trendy. maybe it was something you could never really afford at the time, but you sacrifice to fit in. because thats the one rule of the city really. fit in. you'll eat at the breakfast bar, the type you only get in city apartments. a knock of version of marble to look better than it really is just like all the neighbours. toast, maybe cereal? nobody has time for origionality here. english breakfast is a rare luxury and its usually cooked at dinner time even then. you grab your bag and leave the house, but the only thing is, if you look around you'll see your not the only one. about 5 other people all around you are stepping out of they're front doors at exactly the same time. only it isnt as pleasant as it sounds. because you don't talk with them, or laugh with them. they've lived by you for years but they're beyond strangers. without identity other than "the guy from across the road". nobody cares about anybody else. sometimes i walk the streets of london and think about how the way the houses are all lined up remind me of how things were in the war. everybody's still living on top of each other really, it's just nobody takes enough time to recognise it. make your way to the tube station, or the bus stop. fascinating isn't it? fascinating to be pushed and shoved as people try and rush for they're platform to get to the same office job as everybody else. it amazes me. if these people have so much in common, why don't they talk? ignorance is bliss. perhaps. you can see people, all weaving in and out of each other reading the metro, like they never knew anything different. they don't look up, they don't stumble or trip. they're all wearing the same colours, same material. its like a haze of nothingness. sure, occassionally you get the odd person colliding with a tourist or somebody that doesnt belong, the flutter of paper and sentences constructed with swear words. even that makes you stop for a second. it's as dramatic as a car crash or a disaster around here. because it never happens. everything's too systematic for that. it's like your born with everyone elses identity. you see the people sitting in over priced cafes, smell the overpowering stench of starbucks coffee as you walk past the windows and see all the people inside. once i wondered why cafe's always have small tables. its because everybody always sits on they're own. you look in and see the sea of faces all looking down at they're laptops, not communicating any better than i am right now. words on a screen. maybe thats why i detest living this way so much. the very same girl i mentioned in my last post showed me that living like a machine. living through machines, isnt always what it's cracked up to be. the hooting of people climbing in and out of black cabs, the people straining they're eyes for the red buses, constantly checking they're watches.
i was born a city boy. but, i don't think i was supposed to be that way.
i used to be reckless. i jacked a minibus and hid it. started smoking too young. drinking. i got piercing's when i knew it'd probably get me killed. vandalised things. even graffiti'd on the back of a church and ended up with a police warning.
then i conformed. became everything i never wanna be again.
no wonder i got myself so miserable. i feel sorry for the rest of the city. all those people that don't have a pixie or a phantom to show them how they're meant to be living, what they're missing out on.
i've never been more excited in all my life about whats coming. what im gonna cause.

im on the brink of a discovery.

"were full of risks because that's who we are. were high voltage"

this is gonna be the start of something.

simple kid. from a big city. i tend to blend in with the crowd, but one day im gonna be bigger than everybody else simply because i want to be.
i have enough siblings and friends to keep me where i am for now. but it won't be that way forever.
i've managed to learn a lot recently, from a girl that's very important to me. for this blog's sake, we'll call her pixie.
she showed me that somewhere out there, there is something i can do myself that makes me happy, and i know it stems from writing. It's all very well pleasing other's but sooner or later you have to take a look at yourself.
as it goes, this entry is only gonna be short, but longer ones will follow.
learn about me.
i could be the best stranger if you let me.

"if you can live your life and look back at it with satisfaction, it'll be like living it twice".