I can't drown my demons, they know how to swim

We inevitably construct our own meaning in the world, whether we realize it or not. We want our experiences to mean something beyond the moment they occur, which I think is only human nature, because without any proof of our experiences, what are we? We attach these intangible moments to tangible things- to places, to people, to songs, to words. These things become a trigger to the memory of our experiences, those emotions during those experiences- whether we like it or not. I mean Gwen Harwood may be all for this kind of thing, her and her insane belief that the pervading nature of memories is something purely positive- but I'm sure there's a majority of the world that would beg to differ. For example; there's a place in the world where I refuse to go, purely on the basis that going there will bring back horrible memories. Countless times, I've been tempted to revisit this place, but I'm basically too chicken to for a number of reasons:
1. I don't want to face all the emotional bullshit attached to this place.
2. There's the possibility that there is no emotional bullshit there anymore, or ever was, and basically I've just spent a large amount of time just living in my own constructed mess.

I think we construct our own mess, as horrible as that sounds. I can't be the only one, with a place/thing that I can just never associate with again. But it's not like there's anything physically stopping me, it's all a crazy mental melodrama, where (as I said before) we just want our experiences to mean something beyond the moment we experience them. And in some cases why wouldn't we? The fact that some of us may be able to never physically revisit a place ever again, only gives us the opportunity to spend more time in other places, which may be home to memories of other more happier experiences. And maybe if we all do construct our own mess, who can blame us? We live in a world where people live in little bubbles, and we're all trying to reach out into eachother's bubble and connect on a level beyond facebook- and we do so by trying to draw attention to ourselves, and our flaws, and how we need the help of those around us. But paradoxically as we do that, the bubble a person inhabits just becomes more solid- people don't understand us, or we don't get the reception we planned for. So what can we do? Exist, I guess.

a spoonful of optimism (sorry, i'm back)

Well, I'm back it seems. Hope you didn't miss my rants...

I have a new theory about happiness. That happiness is not a permanent state of mind, nor a fixed destination. We can never be truly happy, forever and ever amen-and this is why so many of us are unhappy. We spend our lives searching for happiness, as though it's some kind of lost treasure; like chocolate eggs on easter, or that horrible brown sweater your grandma knitted for you and wants you to wear because you said it's "lovely" but you sadly can't find. But unlike chocolate eggs, or horrible granny jumpers, finding happiness is only fleeting- which annoys us. Humanity yearns for things to last for more than a moment- ask any five year old that's cried after devouring an ice-cream and they'll tell you that it's because it melted too fast for them to savor the taste. Happiness is like ice-cream; tastes/feels amazing for a moment, but before you know it, the mood's gone and all you're left with is an aftertaste. Happiness is not a permanent tangible thing, it's a moment. Series of moments. Like when I was out walking after a crap day at school and Coldplay (god bless) started playing on my ipod and before I knew it, I was skipping, dancing, running, merrily making my way down some deserted street in Heathcote, not giving a fuck what any skeptical onlookers may have been thinking. I was happy. Happiness lasted about as long as that song- 4 minutes and 5 seconds to be precise. At its end, the storm clouds of anxiety, sadness, fear, anger- the list could continue on forever- returned; but that fleeting moment covered me from their rain like an umbrella, making things seem slightly less shit.

Let's face it; no matter where you are in the world- life is shit. Whether our own justifications for this are reasonable enough for the 7-point-something-billion other people in the world is irrelevant. To combat this bleak world view they've promised us things like heaven, invented ice-cream and told us to "forget about the price tag". However what we've never been told is to appreciate the little things; good coffee, cute dogs, a good song, writing in the sky- little moments where no matter how much you may hate yourself and the world etc, you can't help but smile and feel a kind of warm fuzzy feeling. That instant. Appreciate it. Don't go searching desperately for more. Go back to sulking under whatever pile of shit you've buried yourself under but with that little moment as a kind of perfume to make the shit seem less smelly. And that is my theory: humanity needs to appreciate the small things to live less blue lives.

No Ghosts Left To Haunt You

It's the ones that don't speak up that are drowning the fastest. The ones that bury their monsters and hide behind a mask of okayness that have the most shocking secrets. Because to admit something to someone, is to make it definite, to affirm they have a monster, a problem. such an affirmation only makes the anchor dragging them deeper into the blue heavier, but there's the chance that people can help. Slim chance though, because those people are too busy worrying about the braver ones that admit to their problems. Brave or stupid? We can't really judge, but while they get all the unwanted or wanted attention they deserve other suffer quietly. Are they the brave ones? Running into their internal battles alone? It's a crazy double edged sword as some teacher put it, something to which there is no sole cure, or any cure at all.

You Never Said Goodbye

Goodbye is a funny thing. Something that we avoid saying- despite whether or not it is something we desperately want to say. It can both open doors, and close them, or both. The consequences of saying goodbye are unknown, which scares us, so we don't say goodbye. Saying goodbye to people is something no one likes doing; it can hurt both us and those we say goodbye to. So instead of confronting that monster, we drift apart from people which is usually more painful that ending something definitely. Goodbye is definitive, drifting away leaves people in a grey area which is filled with doubt and insecurities.

did we make it through the rain?

cigarette smoke
drifting out the window
blocking out the night
like our words
hiding the truth
maybe out of fright

later we ran away
spilled words out on the street
like the vodka back inside
the truth something i wanted to say
wanted to know
if you're truly ok

YOLO or something like that..

Our goals in life change as we grow up, fact of life. But if we're supposed to live without regret then shouldn't we be aiming to achieve the goals we set out for ourselves as a little miniature version of ourselves? Does that little version of you regret the decisions you made to become the person you are today? It's impossible to live without regrets, because as we grow and change what we would once regret, we now see as an opportunity. But if we do something we'd once regret then does it count as a regret? Is it a good idea to dwell on the past? Will the future us be something the we in this time would regret? It's like a crazy meta cycle that's making my head hurt.

I think the little version of us would regret things we've done, even though who we are now doesn't regret it.
I don't know what that means.

But yeah.

parting the sea between the brightness and me

Hiding in a tree
from the world
and it's cruel reality;
you told me you loved me.
Word which tattooed themselves
to my disintegrating mind
inhabited by monsters
because this time I believed you,
and I knew I loved you too.

Such words brought a smoke
to kill the monsters I held inside-
we smiled as they chocked.
Then as you went away
the smoke started to fade
and then came demons who
swallowed happiness and spat out
an evil kind of doubt.