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inkdigo
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Name: karmin
Gender: Female
Interests: writing, books, blogskinning, middle earth, literature, fantasy, camelot, the celts, enya, clannad, the fray, the hush sound, lifehouse, coldplay, viggo mortensen, wentworth miller, dominic purcell, robert knepper, cate blanchett, prison break, LOST, veronica mars, sytycd, benji/donyelle, travis/heidi, dance, nature, english, french, spanish, philosophy, intellectual discussions, recognition, sentimentality, the ability to overcome.
Message: message me
Website: visit my website
Member Since:
12/30/2006
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| - Sabre Dancetime to ramble again -
incoherence is all very well, but there's a certain sort of beauty when incoherence comes together like fragments of ash paper to weld, one stitch at a time, coherence. looking at my previous xanga posts i wonder how i managed to keep everything together, and this is not being arrogant or wishful, merely that i am surprise with myself sometimes.
i realise i am becoming overdependent on the people around me. situation's been improving of late, but the thing is i do want to be dependent on them, i want companionship and if i were a fish that flies i would rather fly together than alone, winging with the moon. swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon how i hate that girl, and their relationship, which is so unrealistic you could fry ice cream on with it.
there were no pretty phrases in this that i could reuse again but, through the triple goddess, we all run full circle and there will always be another day, another time, another opportunity.
just never... another soul-state.
well/come back,
karmin
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| - How To Be DeadSomehow, when everything seems to be going right, I can still never be truly happy. It's the nagging doubts, the slow creeping insecurity that sneaks up and grabs me by the throat. And perhaps like a fish out of water, my gills will dry and the irony will be that water escapes through my eyes. They will drip drop and be lost forever, meaningless mementos soon to dry on their own.
If only we could crystallize tears.
I've always wondered how crystallized fruits tasted like. Sugar-laden sins but that must first be proven, I need to undertake upon myself the responsibility of finding out why and how and what, what? Crystallized pineapple, bribes and brides. I was speaking to someone the other day and I found myself believing in the existence of a soulmate. It is probably because of the non and sense that I lead myself to read, assimilate, and now I write and continue the cycle. Influence is a powerful thing, so stand aside.
Yes and there is that detachment again, as it has been for the past two weeks.
they will not bring me down,
karmin
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| - Take Me AwayEveryone made it clear I was dead wrong.
Perhaps it's a Holiday Withdrawal Syndrome, a term I coined on the spur of the moment and yet is surprisingly well-understood and sharp, but I am dreading tomorrow. School and Mondays, terrible combination. And then there's training when my ankles feel like (de)boned fish. Boned fish subjected to more abuse at the paws of an overzealous kitten. Or Smeagol. I have decided that tomorrow will be lousy. And I think that perhaps I am jumping to conclusions but I will be right in the end, and what people say about "if you believe that it's lousy, it will be lousy" is true in this twisted way.
Gah. I think I have exhausted my complaint threshold with the people whom I trust enough to complain to, and the people who trust me enough to listen to my griping. I'm so sorry, all of you. Next time, just tell me to shut up and ignore me if I cry. Because I think I have scales.
like butter that has been scraped over too much bread,
karmin | | |
| - Who Says You Can't Go HomeI hate this.
It used to be that I looked forward to every new adventure, that I loved the feeling of being needed in multiple places at once, that I smiled. It used to be that I was not like this. I am tired now, and I don't want to think. An unreasonable ambition, but an ambition nonetheless. I plot my days by the next school holiday. Perhaps I am getting over-reliant on rest, but what else can I do? It's merely day two and already I'm feeling the terrible strain. I leave home every morning dragging my feet and yet hiding everything under this "oh-i'm-really-truly-enjoying-it" facade. Why, I ask myself. Why do I torture myself this way. Why do I miss home so much. Why am I unable to adapt in the same way that everyone else does.
Why, oh why, is time so short, and why can't I go on living like I did at the end of last year, the golden days of August and September - the culmination of freedom in October?
now i drive alone,
karmin | | |
| - TransatlanticismThe first day back and I'm already crying on the inside. It hurts to be so helpless and controlled by all factors around me. There is nothing but truth when I say I miss my parents and brother and everyone else at home. I miss home, because here I can smile and mean it. I miss home because here I am safe and warm and loved. I miss home because it is not school. I used to try to describe heartache but it never worked no matter how many metaphors or grassy language I used because heartache is not something that can be described.
it can only be felt,
at times like these;
I miss you, karmin.
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