sheepish

hello stars

i've been so terrible, i know. hardly ever updating or responding to comments. you're all so lovely and wonderful to me and i feel ever so guilty. i hope you can forgive me; times have been hard, see, and there has been business and exams. there are yet more exams coming up soon, too. which means more quadratic trinomials and carbon compounds. things i can only grasp so loosely i can feel them trickling away.

but in any case, i can change. i will change. i will try to blog once a week, at least once every two, properly with pictures. even if it is only a little thought. i'm sorry ghostbirds has been so inactive as well; it's just that there has been so little time for writing for fun (which upsets me). it's all analytical responses at the moment.

it's latespring and i've begun listening to the radio again. i do that a few weeks before the jacarandas bloom and the classical music and lovely presentors remind me of christmas and summertime freedom. this summer i might try to get work experience at the local radio station.

the season-changes are always my favorite times. i love the transition, the easy calm. the falling leaves or unfurling flowers. the different clothes and drinks. it comforts me, especially now. i've been feeling so confused. i thought i liked someone but maybe i don't. i thought i didn't like someone but maybe i do.

in any case, thank you all for being so patient, if you are still reading here. i've been having a few troubles with blogger; sometimes it doesn't post my comments. know that i am always reading and loving your words, and you can always find me here

always love ♥

i've given up speaking

Also:

I woke up this morning convinced you found the book on things-I-will-not-say-to-you. The cracks began to widen. Earthquakes rippled down my spine. My stitches were opening and you were looking inside. I was open, the mysteries I made to keep me safe solved. Uncomplicated, just me, with all my shipwrecks and dead ends. The thought made me want to stop existing.

But I saw you and still you so blissfully didn’t know. Your ignorance is the cherry-red in your cheeks; it makes me love you and see how vulnerable the people you don’t expect are. I thought I was the glass creature in the glass world, but I’m just the curator, collecting and understanding.

The ultimate catch 22. I want you to know how I feel, but if you ever do I will fall apart, and not figuratively.

you wake up on the hour and the air is like glass around you. still and brittle, so silent you think you can hear to quiet plinks of dust swirling, tiny flickers in motionless pools of sticky light and cold dark. creep across it all so your shadow is a dancer laughing huge and terrible at you from the wall.

open a door, a window, anything to get you outside.

the wind rolls in to greet you. you are the glass, it is the blower; you feel yourself bending to it, feel it sucking you out. where? outside leaves murmur and even the lagoons of light on the road are cold and white, so different from your yellow inside light that makes the dead look slightly alive and you slightly dead. you've seen the black doll's-eyes it gives you.

do you stay in the dollhouse of stillness, laced thickly with undulating shadows that are both grotesque and enchanting? do you slip outisde into the night, fade into a shadow, get blown away into the wind?

it is the witching hour. the wind tastes of the north. you shut it out and what's left of it falls on the carpet to die slowly in the soft candelight.

i am soft wax; i am half-doll. i might step out into the wind one day, but for now i don't believe enough in fairy tales to be enchanted completely.