Having a bad day x 2

On the 5th February I posted regarding 'if you're having a bad day, tough get over it' and linked to an article about Sophie Delezio returning to school after being horrifically burnt in a freak accident a couple of years ago and saying what an amazing girl she was and what an inspiration she was to me at 5 years old.
Three months after that post, I find myself back at the same spot, linking to another news article . I've just read that Sophie has been critically injured in a motor vehicle accident today and is fighting for life. Her mother was apparantly pushing her in a pram and a car has hit the pram and Sophie was thrown 18 metres and landed on the road. The car didn't stop.

I don't believe in god, I don't pray, I don't really know what I believe apart from most people have some form of decency in them. Some are downright assholes and nothing in this life will change them. But I refuse to let them bring me down. But I don't know where I can find the compassion in this instance. Granted, the person driving the car wouldn't have known Sophie was in the pram, but they sure would have known that SOMEONE was in the pram and that they had just hit them. Why the fuck wouldn't they stop and at least outwardly show some remorse for their actions. People will never cease to amaze me.

If I could possibly send positive thoughts to Sophie and her family, I guess I'm doing that now. I have been hurt, but I can't begin to imagine what the Delezio family must be going through. I hope I never have to feel that pain myself.

If you can, hang in there kiddo, you really are an inspiration to me.

Phear the Crocs!

EVERYONE should own a pair!!!

I never thought I'd ever find a benefit of not playing netball............

For the first time in forever, my nails look 'girly'

*shrug*

You think I'd learn

Why do I do it?

mas·och·ism ( P ) Pronunciation Key (ms-kzm)

A willingness or tendency to subject oneself to unpleasant or trying experiences.

I know what will happen when I look back over stuff that means so much to me. It will make me miss it all so much more, yet I'm drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

The special nuances a word can hold. The way it was written, the expression it was said with. I can close my eyes and hear every word even though it was only written. I can hear how it would have been said. I can hear it all so clearly.

God I miss it.

The most treasured of all was written June 20, 2005, at 2:44:58. Little did I know that 40 hours later my world as I knew it then, would never be the same again.



Tomorrow is supposed to be start of a new adventure.

I'm feeling nothing like starting it.

The coin has landed....

The coin spun for a long time in the air.

Did I will it to land a certain way? We will never know, nor is it relevant.

I have to now accept the coins fate.

Am I comfortable with the coin's decision? Probably not, but I will get there.

Baby steps is all I can do for now. Small baby steps.

Am I scared? Shit scared.

*remembers to pack the floaties*

Flipping a coin

Maybe if I flip a coin, I will be able to make a decision based purely on luck.

50/50 chance.

Those odds aren't so bad.

What am I messing with here?

Am I messing with my future?

Am I messing with the present, which really is my future past?

To quote Greenday

"another turning point, a fork stuck in road"

Some days, fleetingly, it seems I know what needs to be done. Just get on with it, just make the decision and do it. Those thoughts are more often than not swamped by doubt.

Why does something that seemed so right; seemed such the perfect decision, now seem like I was just fooling myself. I will never succeed, I will never fulfill that dream. Was it my dream? Was it a decision I made at another low point that at the time made perfect sense. I wish I could remember. I wish I felt the determination I felt then.

Maybe my future lies in other areas. Would I have made the decision I did, if circumstances were different?

I'm asking questions again that can't be answered. Why am I asking them? I don't know. Am I expecting answers? Probably not.

*flips the coin in the air*

Pablo Neruda

I know Sonnet 17 by rote.

I hope one day soon to want to read it again, to want to feel it, to want to be it. Right now it's raw, but still so true.

I wonder at what stage of love did he write it.

I do not love you as if you were the salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way than this:

where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.