Flight

Your friendship to me, is how I imagine air feels to the birds. All birds that take flight, that is. A soaring bird is a majestic sight and bird cannot soar without air. Can you imagine a bird that could not fly? How it would be humbled; awkward and weak. Birds are the kings of the sky, empowered by flight; empowered by air. They ride on the currents, as if in control. But do they realize? No. They are too often in the air to appreciate it. They do not feel the breeze under their wings and count their blessings. For birds have never been humbled by the loss of flight as I have never been humbled by the loss of your friendship. They are spoiled by air, and I am spoiled by you. When I turn and see you there, holding me up as the air does the birds, I am reminded. I think of those birds who have lost that which is so unknowingly dear to them and I am humbled. I am lucky, for I can return once more to the skies and regain my ignorance of your presence, unlike those birds. The birds that will only ever fly in their dreams.

His Hands

His hands grasped the rope tightly, pulling. The knuckles protruded from the pale, stretched skin and his fingers were starting to turn red. Veins popped up on the backs of his hands, as he tightened his grip. He fought the weight on the other end of the rope and the veins bulged, travelling up his arm. His hands were wide and strong, but gentle. They did not have the plumpness of a childs nor the elegance of a womans hand but they were desirable. The kind of hand you wanted to hold. A hand that would hold you. A warm hand.

His nail beds turned white around his short nails, the tips of his finger carved with small cracks, inconsistent with the smooth skin that stretched over the rest of his hand. Each crack was black with impermeable dirt from years of working tediously. The rope started to move. He used the new slack to quickly, pefectly, loop it around itself and tie a strong knot. The rope was forced to hold itself and he let go. His hands relaxed and returned to their natural olive colour.

She's going crazy

She thinks too much
She can't keep the thoughts away
Each action has a billion possible reations
And she thinks of them all

And then she focus' on the ones she doesn't like
She thinks until they are real
And then they won't leave, and it's all she can see
Regardless of reality

The boys she likes will never know
And those she doesn't will fall
Head over Heels
And she thinks its her fault

The friends she can't stand
Will keep inviting her to their plans
And she'll never say a word about how she feels
Because she can't

She can't because those thoughts got there first
And she sees herself alone and unwanted
She cannot see another possibibilty
She cannot see the truth

Auld Lange Syne

New Years, sweet, sweet New Years :) 2010 has flown past, I can't believe it. Such a significant year, and it's over. It's a hard concept to grasp. I remeber when we were younger, and summer break lasted forever and the days waiting for Christmas made you feel older. Each year goes by faster. Too fast. I keep expecting them to move slowly like they used too. I've heard it keeps going; flying by with more speed each year. I'm telling you, it's a weird, weird idea. A year, is not so long anymore, not as siginificant.

So heres the good stuff, my new years resolutions (on the spot):

1) Be Less Depressing-I promised Ainslie I would stop texting her all my woes and worries and so, I'm going to look on the brighter side.
2) Stop cracking my knuckles-it grosses people out, and isn't very lady like (says my grandmother)
3) Make New Friends-I love having new people in my life. So there.
4) Schoooool Work-gotta get into better habits...

Ahh that's enough :)

OH SIDE NOTE:
I was informed, by a reader, (Anne ;P) that my blogs are sad sounding. SO I would just like to point out that yes some of them are (because who has time to blog when they are having the time of their life) but most of the "sad" ones are just stating facts and I feel neutral about the subjects etc.
JUST THOUGHT YOU SHOULD KNOW