Monday June 04, 2012 at 21:38

5 notes

My boyfriend has forgotten about our anniversary and so has made plans to play in a rugby game and then go and get “fucked up” on a night out. Anyone doing anything on the 24th June?

Tuesday April 03, 2012 at 20:18

25 notes

Tuesday April 03, 2012 at 20:09

9 notes

Tuesday April 03, 2012 at 20:08

7 notes

Tuesday April 03, 2012 at 20:07

Ew I hate everyone

Monday March 12, 2012 at 17:39

1 note

Don’t know if I never trust anyone anymore or if I have a strange sixth sense that is making me very nervous that something has happened that I don’t know about. Wish I could either slap myself for being a paranoid idiot or pat myself on the back (whilst crying) for having such intuition. 

I also wish I hadn’t had this feeling before, with the eventual conclusion being that I was right in my suspicions. 

Friday March 09, 2012 at 20:22

Yet as I sit at home, alone on nights such as this, I can’t quite work out why I am so….well, sad. But this experience has suddenly turned contradictory, as I’m so happy that I feel sad. Maybe just happy that I feel something. Anything. So I’m not going to question my sadness, because sadness is better than numbness. At least I know I’m not losing my humanity. I just wish I had a higher consciousness to better inform what is wrong with me. 

Let’s drink to feeling a hell of a lot.

Friday March 09, 2012 at 20:00

1 note

I have always been steadfast in my view that if Death was simply around the corner, then I was ready to embrace it. Though I am not sad by any means, I do did not value life enough for me to think there was something I should try to stay alive for. And then I read Keats. Particularly ‘Ode to a Nightingale’. For I now wish Death away, as Death destroys even those pains which are better than nothing. As the poet said himself, “death is the great divorcer forever”. There’s a fine line between happiness and sadness, and our humanity forces us to acknowledge our indescribable sadness even at the happiest moments in our lives. That’s because we know nothing can last. We are transient. Finite. And so when we see an object of great beauty, or feel an intense love for someone else, in our subconscious is sadness. Because beauty doesn’t last forever. In Keats’ Ode, the poet is “too happy”. The felicity which is permanent in the nightingale is not, and can never be, permanent in humans. The nightingale’s attraction thus makes everyday living ugly by contrast. I don’t think that Keats disregards earthly existence, though. If he did then he would not have such a strong love for Fanny Brawne. And thus, though humans hate feeling sad, it’s better to feel sadness than feel nothing at all.

Sunday February 19, 2012 at 22:24

11 notes

Sunday February 19, 2012 at 22:21

1 note

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