Five DaysDay 1 – 27/10/09:Five Days
I laid in bed listening to the scratching and crawling, the thumping and bumping that was happening above me. I stared at the ceiling, almost trying to stare through it, to see what...or who was making the noises. It had started as soon as we moved into the house last week. At first I convinced myself it was rats or bats or giant mutated spider, but in the end I couldn't get the subconscious thought out of my head: Ghost. I didn't sleep at all last night. Just when I'd think the noises had stopped and was drifting off to sleep, they would start again, even eerier than before. My heart would jump
| Riette Du Toit. A name uncommon but not unheard of. A name that slips off the tip of your tongue, with the weight of lead blocks, in more than one way. A name that belongs to a girl who finds comfort in the dark and macabre. To a girl attracted to people haunted by their futures and scarred by their pasts. A girl pessimistic, hypocritical, contradicting and fallen into a ditch she can’t dig herself out of. Nervous ticks like biting her nails, cracking her knuckles and playing with straws. Scared of possibly everything. She doesn’t really have any luck in life…well, not really in anything. Or maybe that’s just the pessimism kicking in? She’s got a hole in her heart and she doesn’t know how she’s going to fill it. Or with what. She feels herself with headphones in her ears and a guitar in her hand…or in the water. She likes water. People seem to grow on her and like her. But she doesn’t really like people…except for a few. Like her best friend. And her best friend’s family. Short-fused, sarcastic and stubborn. Stereotypical and common. Enjoys walking along highway and busy streets, lying in the middle of roads and looking at the stars, eating too much chocolate and reading crime thrillers and ghost stories. A girl of incomprehensible stupidity and, sometimes, wit. Modest, quiet and keeps her thoughts her own. Says her life story can be told through songs. Sort of lost, doesn’t really know where she’s headed or where her road is going to take her. Maybe to happiness. But like I said, she’s not that lucky. "Bitter but oddly pleasant at the same time." Maybe if you pick away the layer of self-defense, she didn’t know she put up, you can see who she really is. People who inspire me:                                                                |
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Daily Needs
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Am I a man who dreamt of being a butterfly, or am I a butterfly dreaming that I am a man ? - Tao
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"Whatever our struggles and triumphs, however we may suffer them, all too soon they bleed into a wash, just like watery ink on paper." – Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden
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Vincit qui se vincit.
And thank you for the fav
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"Whatever our struggles and triumphs, however we may suffer them, all too soon they bleed into a wash, just like watery ink on paper." – Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden
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i bleed you in colors of harmony and desire; my song for the troubled
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"Whatever our struggles and triumphs, however we may suffer them, all too soon they bleed into a wash, just like watery ink on paper." – Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden
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"Will we ever be the same when we're closed in by other walls?"-Go Ask Alice
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"Whatever our struggles and triumphs, however we may suffer them, all too soon they bleed into a wash, just like watery ink on paper." – Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden
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I love Music and so should you!
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"Whatever our struggles and triumphs, however we may suffer them, all too soon they bleed into a wash, just like watery ink on paper." – Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden
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