You Never Know What You're Missing.

Until you have it back in your life.

My blog always comes second to a stockpile of homework with nearing deadlines. Personally, I can't be fucking bothered to do my work until I absolutely have to, because nothing comes second to my peace of mind. If I'm upset, nothing gets done. And when I'm happy, I blog about it.

Seriously, nothing really gets finished (or even started) until it mindfucks me beyond my strength.

Speaking of which. I have been happy lately. I have been getting happier ever since I made this big move in my life, and I am pretty pleased at myself.

Or not. It's a big fat lie.

I have merely been psyching myself into thinking that everything is getting better for me. I am trying to convince myself I have been getting total satisfaction from the friends I have now. They make me happy, yes, to an extent (and I am still plenty grateful for them.) But why do I wake up missing someone still every morning? I still yearn for someone to make me feel glad about where I am now, and truly appreciate it.

And you never really know how happy you can be until it happens to you. I don't usually document my daily events but this just has to be said.

Once he told me he was going to be in town for the weekend, I erased the rest of the week from my mind. Nothing else was going to be more important than his visit here. And it must have been god-sent because I remember waking up that very morning, missing him dearly. I guess this is what it means to be really close friends, and nothing more. And of course, a million and one things had to distract me from the excitement of my future meeting - including massive parties and birthday dinners with hot singles. But there was no way I was going to allow myself to not be there.

And it turned out to be greater than I thought it would be. The first thing I saw when I stepped off the train was the Ritz; and it was then I knew that I was going to enjoy myself immensely.

I had two things working hand in hand with each other, and one would not have worked without the other : the environment and the company. We walked for ages up and down Oxford Street, and this was where I fell in love. I saw Christmas lights and black cabs and shops and shops and shops. The biggest Foot Locker, the biggest Zara, the million H&Ms, the biggest Topshop, the biggest Debenhams. And it was the crowd of people. The intense of crowd of thousands out and about on a Friday night, walking past you in a mad frenzy, running in and out of shops carrying a ton of carrier bags, dining in expensive Italian joints, sipping Starbucks while they hail a London cab.

Any hint yet?

No?

For goodness' sakes, I saw a homeless man as I walked out of the tube station.

If you haven't gotten it by now, you should slap yourself for me.

It was the entirety of it. The rush of madness. The throng of people pushing past you. The throng of fashion-forward people pushing past you. The last-minute shopping frenzy. The people walking hand in hand. The people making out. The rush of traffic right next to you. Those hot Europeans out for a night on the town. My outfit I had taken ages to put together. My 5-inches that were killing my feet but had essentially made my outfit work. That Eggnog Latte in my hand. That swanky Italian restaurant we were going to eat at, with the most amazing tiramisu I have tasted in my life.

The high I felt was greater than anything manufactured in a lab, or in a back alley, could have given me.

And the company was fabtastic. I haven't had a proper conversation with anyone for a long time until last night. I'm talking - no emotional guards, no judgement, no miscommunication. And it was a brilliant exchange of thoughts. I felt so much comfort from being able to say anything I wanted and knowing that the person listening would understand it the right way.

And he sure knows where to take me to see the sights.

When the evening was over, I just wanted it all back. I wanted to go back there to the same place and relive the whole thing. But in a kick back into reality, I realised that I can have so much more than what I have now. I can feel so much happier than I am now. There is so much more from me than what has been given to me now.

And no one should dare tell me not to dream big. Just because you're a loser doesn't mean I have to go down with you. I am going to dream as big as I want to, and one way or another I am going to make it. I will make sure of it.

Thanks for coming here to meet me; I needed it.

And we all know where I'll be doing my Christmas shopping.

Cheers.

If I See A Man Waving.

Does this mean I'm not alone?

Once again I have my work piled up to my eyebrows and I am sitting here, desperately trying to sort out my feelings as if the solution was imminent. Talk about total idiocy married to perfect procrastination.

Yes, it's the feeling again. That missing feeling. When it's the only thing that could bring your day crashing down. When it's the only thing that upsets you when the times are good. When it's the only thing that causes those stormy clouds over your head.

When they are the only thing you want.

But no, it isn't who you think it is. I tend to be able to miss at least 5 different people in one week consequently, mind you, and we shall not underestimate the power of my insanity. This time it is someone I am allowed to miss, and it is someone I am allowed to reveal my feelings to. Someone who keeps moving away from me at the start of every week, and quickly returns at the end of it.

Someone I need.

And I know that in less than a month I would be able to spend as much time as I can with them. I would not need to return to my solitude and my empty room and my despair once the weekend is over. I would be able to leave my worries behind here and the things that I want to be confused with can lay here under my bed until I return.

But oh gosh, a good month away from myself.

That must be a relief.

For now, the person I thought I missed I miss no more - to my relief and partial disappointment. Because I can move back into my shell now, where I was not vulnerable, and I can start to think again of all the things that make me happy. And the things which I like to have around me to keep me satisfied and content.

But the missing feeling? Oh. Well as long as I'm human, it's always going to be there. I am always going to want to miss somebody. I am always going to want to long for companionship. I am always going to want someone to hold me in their arms and make sure that I am okay at any point in time. I am always going to need someone to fill that space in my heart.

That space in my heart.

Cheers.

Go On.

Film the world before it happens.

The workload is still as heavy as it can be, and most of the reason is because I only work hard once I've procrastinated and the other part being that I feel the need to blog so much.

They don't realise why I need this blog. And they don't realise what my blog means to me.

I don't talk about what I did today, I don't talk about which friend binge-drank and puked herself silly. I don't talk about how I made my own dinner last night. I don't talk about which expensive restaurant I went to with mummy. I don't talk about mummy. Heck, I don't even talk about my friends. I don't talk about happy things. I don't talk about people that make me happy. I don't talk about anything pretty or peachy.

What's the goddamn point if none of that means anything to me?

I just realised something. I am in a constant process of analysis. Everything you do, and everything you say. Everything I do, everything I say. Everything that happens around us. I immediately take it in and process it into something that should not be.

Thoughts.

And because of this, it sits in my head as a thought. Waiting to be used. Waiting to be worried about. Waiting to be reprocessed into memories.

So multiply that one thought by a million and watch my brain explode.

But I can't help it. I can't help seeing beyond what happens around me. I can't help try to figure out the reasons why people do things. I can't help but wonder if it's their personality that controls them, or some horrible experience that haunts them, or whether the two influence each other in some way.

I can't help but think if it's their mother who told them what wrong things to do.

So that is why I don't see the point in talking about what I did in my day. Because there is a reason why I did what I did in my day. There is a reason for what I said and who I spent time with. There is a reason why I kept secrets from them. There is a reason why I didn't. There is a reason I miss them at the end of the day, and why I don't.

So why can't we just talk about that? Why can't we just spend an entire post talking about our feelings? Why can't we just spend a few posts on why we hate the way we think? Why can't we spend a whole blog on how much we hate ourselves for thinking so much?

That's exactly what we have done.

And that's exactly what you'll torture yourself reading.

XXX

Is it wrong to miss someone for no other reason than you enjoying the time spent with them? Is it wrong to miss someone because they make you a little more optimistic about the future? Is it wrong to miss someone who makes the time seems alot less depressing?

I think it is very wrong.

But I can't help it.

For one thing though, I need to be proud of myself for keeping this feeling totally platonic. I am glad that I am not missing them for the worst reasons. But I am not glad that I still miss them. Because this means that I have formed some sort of attachment to them. And forming attachments can never be a good thing unless there is a 100% guarantee - when there really never is.

But I do miss the time spent with you. I like our teasing remarks and our gossip exchanges. I like that I can look forward to something in the week. I like that I could potentially trust you with my secrets without having you judge me.

Though I can never be right. I could possibly freak you out so much that you would find it excruciatingly difficult to hang out with me. I could possibly reveal so much of my life without knowing a thing about yours. And I could most capably destroy this thing that I miss.

So help me help myself.

Cheers.

Tell Me Who You Want Me To Be.

So I don't fuck this up.

Speaking of the beautiful art of fucking up, here's beautiful art.

Her Silent Silhouette

I took one look at it and I was sold. I don't even think an explanation is worthy of just how captivating it is.

Turns out he's an aspiring artist from the UK by the name of Daniel Conway and the rest of his work mainly features robots and gas masks.

Nothing wrong with that at all.

BrokenDawn

Reaching Into Limbo

In Sight of Apocalypse

See? Nothing wrong with that at all.

Cheers.

The World Of Magic.

Because your real life is tragic.

There was a reason I started this blog, and an even bigger reason why I call it Twisted Tragedies. And yes, it is because I like to tell my readers about chocolate and romance and friendship and how the world spins on love.

Note to self : International anarchy is not massive world chaos.

Note to self : I have no idea what I am doing.

This static I am floating in will get the better of me. One of these days it is going to swallow me up and I will find a nice comfortable spot on its sticky wall to stay permanently. Or I could just blog about it right now, in hopes of finding someone capable enough to save me.

Or bothered, for that matter.

There were six people seated at the table in front of me. But they weren't human. They were fashion hybrids - who look human but ooze more style than the entire House of Chanel during Fashion Week. And out of this group were two individuals who looked like they pioneered wearing clothes. The girl had a sheer burgundy off-shoulder sweater over a black tank top, tight black jeggings with pointed stud detail at the knees, 6-inch black ankle boots and a black feather bolero jacket. And the guy had on a grey hoodie, black leather jacket, black skinnies and Dr Martens. She had her brown hair in a braid and he had his long black hair loose.

And if they hadn't inspired me enough, the way they behaved with each other did. It was their romance. Granted, they did step outside for a smoke but it was the way they did it. One running out holding the hand of the other, and both leaning against the wall in a loving cuddle. The next second they engage in a deep kiss while their hands are protectively wrapped around each others' waist.

All while dressed like they just stepped off a runway.

And I sit here at the other end of the restaurant, watching them. Observing them. Being incredibly jealous of them. And suddenly being so inspired by them. I see their movement in a frame by frame motion of a steady camera, each one dramatically capturing a different emotion within them.

And that's what I want. That excitement. That vigour for life. The way you get up every morning to do what you want to do and love to do. The way you walk past people with that smile across your face. The way you can't stop thinking about that one person, and they can't stop thinking about you. The way the little things in life stop upsetting you. The way the sunlight seems to follow you everywhere you walk.

The way I need to feel.

But the way I don't.

I suppose impatience has taken over me, because I have only had one month on my own, although it seems like it's been eternity. But I didn't expect things to kind of come to a stop around me. People have stopped being happy for each other, people have stopped wanting to know each other.

People have stopped pretending to remember you.

But people have also been getting warmer. A little closer. A little more comfortable. And it would be wrong for me to say that I have not experienced some solace, or even some protection from this. And it would also be wrong for me to say that this situation is going to last forever. The truth is, I am hoping it will last a very very long time. But that is never the case. I am going to say something to fuck this up. I am going to do something that will make you angry, or suspicious or even fear me. I am going to destroy whatever we have.

You need to realise what exactly I want from you. I want to support you in all your romantic endeavours, I want to be proud of you, I want to be a shoulder for you to cry on. Because someday I am going to need that too. And I hope that you are the right person I should be asking this of.

But until such time I know I am going to be worrying about whether I have you on my team (also known as my one-man army) or if you're just here for the ride. I am going to drive myself mad hoping that I have been the best person that I can. And I really really hope I don't fuck this up.

Cheers.

Divine Intervention.

I want to live my life from a new perspective.

Right.

I don't really have a specific theme for this post, or a specific worry, or a specific flaw of mine to conjure up, believe, and convince all of you that it's in fact contagious. Instead, I have a few random ideas, all of which I am going to attempt to squish into one colorful post (as purple as it can be.)

There may be side effects.

It's one thing to worry about not having anyone to rely on, and it's another thing to worry about when you do. As painful and torturous as the worrying is, it never stops you, and you never stop it. And when you finally have someone you think you can rely on, the worries transform into something you can't fathom, but it still hurts you just as much.

What if you're wrong? What if their impression of you is totally different from what you think of them? What if you don't seem to find what you saw in that person in the first place, later on? What if what you thought you saw never existed?

What if it's just the person you've been needing?

And you're worrying that person away.

Worries could destroy everything we have.

XXX

I'm turning this whole thing around to something that will most definitely lighten the mood a little bit. I haven't had a fashion-related post in a while so here goes.

Trend alert! I'd much prefer talking macrotrends because that's really all that matters. Quit fussing with the idiot details - everyone would just turn out looking like an army of ... Idiot Microtrenders.

So I have noticed a quick shift from fun, frilly, youthful miniskirts to elegant pencils and A-lines. The only inference I could possibly offer for this change is the state of the economy. When everyone had money, we decided to splash colours on our clothes and rip them up into frills and tassels. And when the economy decided to crash, burn and die on us and get rid of our jobs, we decided to put on our Give-Me-Work skirts.

Ah, but don't be fooled. Pencil skirts can be very very sexy. I should know - it's my new obsession. Us curvy girls just look better in them anyway.

Another obsession :

Bright red lipstick.

Can I squeeze in one more?

Garnier Fructis Surf Spray.

For sexy, salty, curly hair. Guaranteed.

Last one, now :

MAC Tinted Lip Conditioner.

Tints like magic, and tastes like chocolate. It's sticky enough not slide off your lips but light enough not to have your hair stuck to it. And you don't notice the tint, until you put on some more lip stain and realise you look like a tramp that overdosed on lip stain. It's as simple as that.

Cheers.

The Razor.

In the hands of your heart.

It's been a little over a month and they say it's a miracle I have already assimilated. Maybe it helps that I have some form of family here - some form of warmth, connection. Maybe it helps that I have been raised to speak a little better than most. Maybe it helps that I am addicted to adventure and live off all the new things I could possibly get my hands on. Maybe it's because I hate being in the constant motion that I have been in all this while. Maybe it's because I have wanted this so much for so long - and now that it is finally here I am having a hard time appreciating it.

Maybe I am living a dream that isn't going to end soon.

I nearly published a third-rate post today that should never even have been on my records in the first place. And I realise why.

I have lost a sense of direction. Again.

Remember that it is literally engraved in this blog that I need a goal to move through any obstacles I may be facing. And I seem to have either accomplished it, or forgotten where I left it last.

I am in the middle of an unfathomable workload, I am having my weeks flow right past me, and I can't seem to find anything that could function as an anchor to hold me down where I want to be. I keep looking towards virtual goals that aren't even in my near future, to make me feel better - but those dreams are so far away, they may not even develop into anything more than a spark.

Although if it doesn't develop into anything more than a spark, I will kill somebody.

And there isn't anyone here that could save me from myself. Granted, I am so grateful for the ones who are giving me a chance to be myself, and holding on to the little hope I have, and for those who love me. But I have been told by the most reliable source that I can't keep looking for what I want to find; it has to come to me like an angel wing from the sky.

(I'm sitting here thinking : As often as an angel wing comes from the sky.)

I am as worthy as I need to be, and someone someday will see that and take the opportunity. But until then, I have to keep my focus on something else with a stronger guarantee, and with certainly more returns.

The Economics essay kinda sorta fucked me up, yeah.

And we're back at square one - what focus? Where is this point of definition that I need to direct my energy to? It's either invisible, or non-existant or it's both and seriously playing with my head.

Until it decides to show, I have got to give myself a break. Absorb all that I can from the good things life is giving me, and deflect the bad energy it's leaving for me. And be so very thankful I am not totally unwanted.

So I guess we're back to us, oh cameraman, swing the focus

In case I lost my train of thought, where was it that we last left off?

Cheers.