Hopeless Musing #33



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Is life just a series of negotiations?

Swapping pain for a different type,

Sacrificing things that shouldn’t be,


For the sake of everyone else?

Hopeless Musing #32



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I keep waiting for your call.

I was hoping you wouldn’t forget me today.

Why is it that you make me feel so loved, and so alone, all at once?

But now it’s nearing midnight… have you forgotten me? I wonder when you’ll remember me.  Even as an afterthought.

That would be enough.


But perhaps it is simply me, who is not enough.

Hopeless Musing #30



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Some people turn our hearts to fire, and others turn them to ice.

But it doesn’t matter how long it’s been since I saw you last, your presence is like light. As soon as I see you, my problems melt away, burned by a fire that could never die.

There aren’t enough good words in the English language to describe how much I care about you.

But every day you walk this Earth, means I continue to walk it too.

Quote Of The Day 16/10/2019

WEDNESDAY, 16/10/2019:

Source: https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/207095282849384482/

‘Greek philosophy seems to have met with something with which a good tragedy is not supposed to meet, namely, a dull ending.’

– Karl Marx

Hopeless Musing #29



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Roses litter the footpath, curling up as if in agony where they’ve been trampled by passers-by. Their petals are brown at the edges, cut and bruised and betrayed, cut loose from the place they once flourished.

Where does the circle of life start and end?

When do these roses find their way back to the ground, to the soil, and give life to something new, if not by being trampled?

Why do we see them as broken and useless, when they are valuable forever?

Hopeless Musing #28

Losing Time.


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One minute I’m here, the next minute I’m there. Except from this minute to the next, has thirty more in between that I can’t recall.

I lose time from time to time, when I don’t think I do at all. Sometimes it’s minutes, other times it’s months. Sometimes I remember, sometimes I do not.

Depending who I am, depends on where I am. Depending on who appears, depends on what I know. Depending on who comes out to play, depends on how I act.

I never used to think about it, until I had to think about it. When I realized the different ‘parts’ of me know different parts of me. 

Hopeless Musing #27



SOurce: https://weheartit.com/entry/333961481?context_page=3&context_query=plant+photography&context_type=search


Sometimes I wish I could throw my phone away – in an age so hung up on technology, how lovely it would be to send letters to you.

Writing my feelings was always so much easier than saying them, but when they’re stuck on a screen, they don’t feel as real. They become just another another status update, another tweet, another instant message… another meaningless, emotionless stamp in time. Just one button-click away from each other.

But there’s something so much more authentic, when the words on the paper have traveled miles, days and across continents, just to reach you.

I miss handwriting, I miss ink smudges and tear drops and accidental errors, scrubbed out and re-written.

I miss unfolding and folding beloved letters, reading and re-reading, until the paper grew worn and felt like velvet at the folds. I miss seeing the letters and words on pages ripped from books and notepads, that weren’t perfectly typed, but written, scrawled and scarred – imperfectly perfect – a story in a story.

But mostly, I just miss feeling something real.



Hopeless Musing #26




Sourvce: https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/725642558686989301/


I told the stars about you.

But they already knew who you were.

You shine brighter than the rest ever did, simply by existing.

And yet, they still love you, just as much as I.


It’s hard not to love someone made of stardust.

Hopeless Musing #24



Source: https://weheartit.com/entry/331467118?context_page=3&context_query=peony+bouquet&context_type=search


It’s peculiar, how some people seem to stroll into our lives as if God had them made especially for us. Their very essence is like a gravity made only for us, drawing us closer to them without us noticing, until we look in their eyes one day, and realize exactly what they mean to us.

It’s heartbreaking and beautiful, all at the same time.

It’s the most peculiar thing. They tell stories of a life before you knew them, and yet you feel you were there all along.

And you both know it, but you dare n’t say the words aloud, for fear the world around you both will come crashing down.


Hopeless Musing #17



Source: https://weheartit.com/entry/325953759?context_page=4&context_query=pastel+bouquet&context_type=search


The sadness creeps up on me, seeping into my skin, sending shivers down my spine.

It’s the rain, dripping from the pine trees onto the dirt in front of my toes. It’s the windscreen wipers screaming as they try to keep up as I escape into the hills. It’s the dark clouds and thunder – loud and angry, ripping through the air. It’s bleak mornings and drawn curtains, dark rooms and heavy blankets, smothering the light of day.

And you tell me you feel it too  – coming over you without warning, wrapping itself around your chest – forcing you to face the thoughts that I know all too well you keep hiding under the surface, pretending they don’t exist.

This melancholia, as you like to call it, follows us around and around. Until we’re simply deep swirls, on a starry night canvas, never touching.

Like the plug pulled from a bath or a hurricane in the sky, we dance around the issue and destroy our destiny in one deep twirl.