Monday, August 31, 2009
Drawers are fantastic things. So simple in design, yet are capable of hiding, and revealing, so much.
For instance, I have many drawers. Some small. Some large. And I’m sure that if you were to open one, many things would be exposed.
My desk alone has two drawers in it. Open the top one and you’ll find pills that I don’t need to take, blatantly displayed. Hidden in a fabric purse, tucked away in this very same drawer, you’ll find cigarettes, papers and a lighter.
Under my bed there are more drawers, under the different fabrics and other commodities in the left drawer you’ll find contraception and Russia’s finest.
Through opening two drawers in my room it seems you’ll discover so much about me, about the kind of girl I am. Leave my drawers open and you’ll see how vulnerable I really am.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Friday, August 28, 2009
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Monday, August 24, 2009
Sunday, August 23, 2009
She was so in control of herself, no matter how different it looked to any passers-by. She skied parallel as fast as a car, one that would be in need of using a safety ramp on a highway, causing me to try so hard to keep up with her.
The thing was, when she was here I thought I knew everything there was about her. But now, when she’s gone, there are so many voids, gaps and spaces which I had no idea about, and it seems that I was no where near as close to her as I thought. I never knew anything about her, while she, she knew everything there was to me. She knew every tiny detail that constructed the bland simplicity that I am.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Monday, August 17, 2009
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Saturday, August 15, 2009
I am camera.
I stand on the hard concrete pathway, waiting, always waiting, the same as every morning. It’s always just after seven. Today, the sun is up and the clouds are minimal. I wait for my coffee, exactly the same as what I order each and every day. Someone is smoking a cigarette somewhere behind me, its scent filling my breath. I want to look around, to stare at the people around me but I am too scared, too afraid. My panophobia sets in. I fear taking that risk. I take my coffee and proceed onwards in my journey towards the day.