apparently, it’s March.

just this morning while i walked up to the letterbox, i thought, this is great, the ground’s finally drying up and i won’t have to dodge puddles and mud anymore!

two storms later, returning to the tin can literally walking through ankle-deep water: nevermind.

my kingdom to return to bloody suburbia and concrete fields. i did my time slogging through constant mud, rain, and biting insects seven thousand years ago, it wasn’t romantic and earthy and cottagecore then, and it isn’t now, either.

i would even have the literal criminal neighbours over everything i’ve endured over the past two and a half years, and i feel like a complete fucking moron for ever thinking it was unbearable. you didn’t know what unbearable even was, idiot child.

aestivation, stat.

god, i despise summer with every fibre of my being. can’t i just sleep until the weather starts behaving in a civilised manner (ie, stays 26ºC or lower and the humidity takes a hike)? i don’t understand how i’m like…anti-accustomed to this. for someone who grew up in the subtropics, i should be immune to this, or at least just find it a minor inconvenience, not five months’ worth of life-stops-brain-dies BS.

i love brisbane so much, and the thought of leaving her at all makes me sad (with the approaching five-ring-circus coming to town, it may end up a necessity, moneywise), but damn if most of her summers aren’t just sunshine brutality.

or maybe it’s just that they’re intolerable when i have nothing to do while they occur, which…makes sense. summer ’16/’17 was the happiest i’ve ever been for an extended period.

how much

dad’s in the hospital with a TIA and blocked right artery.

i don’t know what else to say that i haven’t said already, and i’ve lulled myself into a kind of semi-dissociative feel-nothing state, which possibly isn’t healthy, but feels less like the whole world is caving in on me, so i’m not going to force myself out of it by elaborating any further on a blog that nobody reads.

i just. i want to disappear. i want to turn into a star. i want to shine light and beauty onto everyone and everything but not have to interact with anyone to do it. i’m tired of the pain. the pain never stops. every moment is pain. and just when you think it’s let up, something else happens.

i can’t take it anymore. i am not large or strong enough to hold all this.

all the troublemakers

Brittle little smile, pretty petrol eyes
We keep our shadows locked up here inside
Try not to offend or to disappoint them
Write them letters you will never send

Don’t show that you’re hurt
You won’t be the first to hide the bruises there under your shirt
Oh, and your secret’s safe with me, so admit your complicity
And write them words that they will never read

Oh, they stay in shadows, all the heartbreakers
Oh, they stay in shadows, all the troublemakers —
It’s always the quiet ones.

It’s always the quiet ones.

“for you are in Elysium, and you are already dead.”

I’m brewing a cup of “Boulangerie” tea from Tour de Tea and it smells wonderful…and it also smells like the Wednesday markets at uni. Yet again, I want to cry.

No matter how I slice it, I’m not home. I’m very far from home, my September City, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to find a way out of here. Jericho Bay again, I guess. I’m aware I’m talking nonsense, or stream-of-consciousness…ing…there needs to be a verb for that…but I just…I don’t know. I just miss home. I miss uni. I miss jacaranda trees in wild bloom, I miss chocolate milk tea, I miss flat whites with four sugars and studying by the lakes, I miss hope. I miss possibility.

The tea tastes wonderful, as well…mild and comforting. I don’t want to pollute it with saltwater. I just want to go home, so much. It’s not a place, not wholly. It’s…everything. A feeling. Several places.

A friend visited me in 2018, and I’m so glad they got to see me at my…well, not my best, because my brain was being an absolute disaster for the majority of their visit, but. Me in my home. My September City at its best, the places I love. I wouldn’t let anyone visit me now, see me as I am, like this.

I should have gotten up and asked them to dance. I should have. I should have. I was two drinks down and I was still a coward.

Maybe I’m being negative and refusing to see anything good in my situation. I don’t think I am; there’s just so little of it here. And besides, being forced to thrive in a toxic environment is NOT a sign of happiness or health or anything of the sort.

Sure, there are possums. And stars. And a lovely wee dog who is a handful, but I love absolutely ferociously. But it’s not enough. It’s not home. I’m rotting at the core and it’s spreading outwards and outwards into the grey mist that is the future for me. I want to melt that mist, but I just don’t have the resources.

I have the willpower. I have the sheer bloody-mindedness. But I do not have the resources. Doubt I ever will. You can blame capitalism for that one.

ばたいてく 君からDaybreak

they say it’s darkest before dawn, but I’ve been sitting in the freezing cold blackness waiting for the sun to peak over the horizon just the tiniest bit for two years, now. i don’t think aurora will raise her head anymore.