Today shall be fun.
Sitting in English Writing once again, we have a relief so it shall be easy going.
Yesterday i gave blood for the first time.. found out i weigh 47 kg instead of 50 so its only 2 kg more than their minimum. To make it worse i hadn't eaten since that morning which i know is bad but i did have a few drinks.
They take 470mls so less than half a litre and only was able to give around 360mls.. I started to feel really light headed and they took the needle out a little after. Sadly the dizziness is still here, not as frequent but strong when it comes. Basically passed out on my bed haha.
But it wasnt too bad, and im sure ill continue giving blood unless of course i get these tattoos i want. Then i have to wait.
A few of my friends are down atm.. Not too sure whats going on there. Hopefully it picks up soon its making me depressed as well ha..
Going to possibly watch a movie tonight, Toy Story 3. May be fun :) Hopefully my other friend can come and keep me company among the rest. Hopefully..
Best get back to my work,
Always love,
Sierra
My full story so far.
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It was my funeral, of that I am sure, because I was the one in the coffin.
The overly large and high room was full of stale air and an extreme, profound pressure caused by the silence they all held. There were rows upon rows of benches, the kinds you find in parks, not churches. They were not all full but more than half were, the back rows were empty except for a few people that felt they shouldn’t have been there or didn’t want to be seen.
My immediate family were in front, a different look on each face; Longing, indifference, curiosity, boredom, concentration and anger. Behind them were rows of the rest of my family, more cousins than uncles and aunts. The benches to the sides held my friends, long lost and people I had seen only last week.
For them having to see me like this, I am sorry. I never wanted to be buried. I never wanted an open casket. What I wanted was to be burned, cremated, put into a box and placed under a white tree next to her tree, and for her to carve out names onto the trees. Our trees.
I suspect she was pissed. She would have fought with them. Tried to tell them my song preferences. Where and how I wanted to be laid to rest. I suspect she brought forth our letters as proof, my silly handwriting scrawled between the lines, claiming my wishes and commenting on hers.
She lost. She must have.
It was her face I searched for. Her face I felt. She came up to me, placed lilies and her last letter on my chest and left a kiss on my cheek. I am sorry. I never wanted to hurt her, she is the last person I would ever hurt and even then, not intentionally.
I choked. I gasped, coughed and choked again. My back arched as my lungs tried desperately to take the energy my heart was giving them, to fill with the needed air. The air that had been missing since the day they found me in that river. My legs kick, my back arches further, picking up off the oddly comfortable casket floor.
I hear nothing, see nothing, and taste chemicals. Another attempted breath. It’s like being smothered in reverse. There is a huge weight on my chest, making it agonising to move, to think. The weight gets lighter but still pushes ever downwards. It all hurts, everything, my heart most.
And then my chest gives. The air is filling all spaces inside me, from my god given mouth to my toes somewhere in the bottom of the casket. My brain is dull, sluggish and my ears are ringing. With my eyes closed, I feel something holding my knees down and something pressing into the bottom of my ribs. Something starts to run down my face in dull throbs.
The first thing I hear is screaming. It’s a horrible sound; painful. I take another breath and the screaming stops for a brief moment, only to start up again. It’s me. I’m screaming. I open my eyes, wince at the sudden light and hastily close them again. I’m still screaming, the wetness of my face is due to me crying. I’m crying through the blindness, through the deafening screaming.
I open my eyes again, blinking rapidly to keep my eyes moist. The tears help. There is one figure to the side of my vision. I can’t look. And I’m out of breath.
“Breathe damn it! Breathe!” I yell at myself.
The shout rings through my head as I remember how to inhale. The screaming melts into violent sobs.
There are arms around me and below me. One set warmer than theirs. I’m breathing. I don’t belong there. Her hair falls across my face as they all try to lift me clear of that dreaded box. She is here. I strangle out a sound which is drowned out almost instantly by more screaming, but from the isles this time. I should be dead. I should be getting carried out in my tomb right now to be placed in the cold, dead dirt. And yet, here I am, getting pulled from that box, clearly alive.
Some hands leave me. Others clasp and hold on as if I’m leaving again. Her arms encircle me completely. The weight of my body suddenly hits me and I collapse, softly as there are still hands holding me up. Her arms never leave me, we fall together. Sitting on that numbing wooden floor she holds me. She pulls me into her, into her own skin, her heart. It seems she will never let me go. Never. Never again.
They tell me that they love me, but it’s only hers I hear. She has said it so many times before but this is different. I can feel it in her arms, her body and her voice that she means it. I cry. She cries. We cry; more from shock and pain than anything. I should not be sitting here. What is going on? What is happening to me?
As we quiet down, I look around me. From what I can see through the legs and bodies of people around me there are still people sitting and standing well away from me. They don’t know if they should run or come over and see me. I wouldn’t blame them if they did run. This is not something that people prepare themselves for when coming to a funeral. They may hope for it, but they do not prepare for it.
People are on their phones. Calling friends, family, the authorities, I am not sure. The priest himself has moved slowly back towards us. He starts talking to my father and a few of my uncles. I am picked up and moved to one of the front seats. She’s still right next to me. She will not leave me; I’ll make sure of it. Looking up, I see the coffin again. From here it looks frightening; down right terrifying. I cry harder. She stands me up, leads me to the big wooden doors and out into the warm, clean afternoon air.
We sit on the pavers lining the garden bed of the great Oak outside the entrance of the church. She watches me, watches my face.
“I can’t..” She stutters. “I can’t believe.. You’re really here.. Are you really here?”
I cannot find my voice, despite the screaming and sobbing I’ve been doing. So I nod; a single frightened nod. She looks at me, really looks at me, and hugs me yet again.
Her smell wafts around me comfortingly. She smells of acorns, summer breezes, of her purple lip gloss, the watermelon kind we like so much. She smells of new books, of chocolate, of her body spray I always find myself searching for when we meet. She smells of sought after happiness, of company, of love.
I know this is wrong of me. I feel like I am stealing this air I am breathing. This is not what is meant to happen. It was all meant to end then. I slipped into that river, fought for this; the chance to breathe this air again. I did not succeed; in that instant at least. I’ve never been one to give up easily, but to fight like this; does it not seem wonderful in a horrible way? Does it not seem too vigorous an action? It is not something one hears of.
The death certificate, the birth certificate, the paperwork that needs to be changed back or burned; so much commotion for a life. There will be tears. Many more tears, some for me, some for others that should have woken up like me. There will be fights. There will be screaming. There will be love. Over all that, there will be happiness; enough to drown out the sadness, from me, from them, from us, and why shouldn’t they be?
They have their daughter, their sister, their neighbour and their friend back. I have my father, my mother, my siblings, my neighbours, my friends and my love back.
I breathe her in again, deeper and deeper. This is what I waited for every day, every week, what I got up for in the morning, what I craved for, what I breathed for. This is why I lived, so why not again?
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Sitting in English Writing. Im meant to be writing my major mid year piece but i cant seem to think.. maybe its because i hit my head before class on the underside of a trucks trailer? i have a lump but its not bleeding. a few of us hit our heads. sadly i didnt hear their complaints as warning until after i hit my head. oh well.
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Company vs. Solitude
Don’t you just hate it when you hope for company, long for it, need it, and then when you finally do get your company, you hope for solitude, long for it, need it? Well it’s happening to me... again. It doesn’t matter how many times this happens; I continue to bring this on myself. How stupid of me. How selfish. Do you agree?
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Current thoughts instead of proper writing. how bad.
I have the 1000 Journals Project book in front of me, didnt take long for the state library to send it in. havent finished looking through it yet but i grow more and more motivated to start a few of my own the further i read and look into it.
Our teacher is in my line of site, but he cant see my screen. success! means i can continue writing like this without interuption.
I really need to pick up on my entries on here aye? it makes me feel better to write on here, so why not more?
"Hope keeps the heart from breaking."
I wish she didnt have so much hope in me.
Its raining outside.. still. this morning we had half a blue sky and half a looming brown sky. the blue looked hopeful. the sun is coming through. i do wish this winter rain would stop. i do love the rain. more lightning storms than just showers.. seem to help me think if i need to, or stop me if i dont. THANKYOU!!
Class ends in around 20 minutes. then i have to cross the hall and sit through a half hour of Student Group. hopefully Ker will come this time. she usually misses SG ha.
I love army code. my full name is rather fun. Sierra Lima Juliet Tango. im keeping it going for a few of my friends. Romeo, Bravo, Tango, Delta, Charlie, Echo, Alpha.. makes me laugh haha
----------------------------------------------------
Everything I Am
It was my funeral, of that I am sure, because I was the one in the coffin.
The overly large and high room was full of stale air and an extreme, profound pressure caused by the silence they all held. There were rows upon rows of benches, the kinds you find in parks, not churches. They were not all full but more than half were, the back rows were empty except for a few people that felt they shouldn’t have been there or didn’t want to be seen.
My immediate family were in front, a different look on each face; Longing, indifference, curiosity, boredom, concentration and anger. Behind them were rows of the rest of my family, more cousins than uncles and aunts. The benches to the sides held my friends, long lost and people I had seen only last week.
For them having to see me like this, I am sorry. I never wanted to be buried. I never wanted an open casket. What I wanted was to be burned, cremated, put into a box and placed under a white tree next to her tree, and for her to carve out names onto the trees. Our trees.
I suspect she was pissed. She would have fought with them. Tried to tell them my song preferences. Where and how I wanted to be laid to rest. I suspect she brought forth our letters as proof, my silly handwriting scrawled between the lines, claiming my wishes and commenting on hers.
She lost. She must have.
It was her face I searched for. Her face I felt. She came up to me, placed lilies and her last letter on my chest and left a kiss on my cheek. I am sorry. I never wanted to hurt her, she is the last person I would ever hurt and even then, not intentionally.
I choked. I gasped, coughed and choked again. My back arched as my lungs tried desperately to take the energy my heart was giving them, to fill with the needed air. The air that had been missing since the day they found me in that river. My legs kick, my back arches further, picking up off the oddly comfortable casket floor.
I hear nothing, see nothing, and taste chemicals. Another attempted breath. It’s like being smothered in reverse. There is a huge weight on my chest, making it agonising to move, to think. The weight gets lighter but still pushes ever downwards. It all hurts, everything, my heart most.
And then my chest gives. The air is filling all spaces inside me, from my god given mouth to my toes somewhere in the bottom of the casket. My brain is dull, sluggish and my ears are ringing. With my eyes closed, I feel something holding my knees down and something pressing into the bottom of my ribs. Something starts to run down my face in dull throbs.
The first thing I hear is screaming. It’s a horrible sound; painful. I take another breath and the screaming stops for a brief moment, only to start up again. It’s me. I’m screaming. I open my eyes, wince at the sudden light and hastily close them again. I’m still screaming, the wetness of my face is due to me crying. I’m crying through the blindness, through the deafening screaming.
I open my eyes again, blinking rapidly to keep my eyes moist. The tears help. There is one figure to the side of my vision. I can’t look. And I’m out of breath.
“Breathe damn it! Breathe!” I yell at myself.
The shout rings through my head as I remember how to inhale. The screaming melts into violent sobs.
There are arms around me and below me. One set warmer than theirs. I’m breathing. I don’t belong there. Her hair falls across my face as they all try to lift me clear of that dreaded box. She is here. I strangle out a sound which is drowned out almost instantly by more screaming, but from the isles this time. I should be dead. I should be getting carried out in my tomb right now to be placed in the cold, dead dirt. And yet, here I am, getting pulled from that box, clearly alive.
Some hands leave me. Others clasp and hold on as if I’m leaving again. Her arms encircle me completely. The weight of my body suddenly hits me and I collapse, softly as there are still hands holding me up. Her arms never leave me, we fall together. Sitting on that numbing wooden floor she holds me. She pulls me into her, into her own skin, her heart. It seems she will never let me go. Never. Never again.
They tell me that they love me, but it’s only hers I hear. She has said it so many times before but this is different. I can feel it in her arms, her body and her voice that she means it. I cry. She cries. We cry; more from shock and pain than anything. I should not be sitting here. What is going on? What is happening to me?
As we quiet down, I look around me. From what I can see through the legs and bodies of people around me there are still people sitting and standing well away from me. They don’t know if they should run or come over and see me. I wouldn’t blame them if they did run. This is not something that people prepare themselves for when coming to a funeral. They may hope for it, but they do not prepare for it.
People are on their phones. Calling friends, family, the authorities, I am not sure. The priest himself has moved slowly back towards us. He starts talking to my father and a few of my uncles. I am picked up and moved to one of the front seats. She’s still right next to me. She will not leave me; I’ll make sure of it. Looking up, I see the coffin again. From here it looks frightening; down right terrifying. I cry harder. She stands me up, leads me down the isle and out into the warm, clean afternoon air.
We sit on the pavers lining the garden bed of the great Oak outside the entrance of the church. She watches me, watches my face.
“I can’t..” She stutters. “I can’t believe.. You’re really here.. Are you really here?”
I cannot find me voice, despite the screaming and sobbing I’ve been doing.
----------------------------------------------------
Thats my major piece so far.. i need to think of a way to make it more.
Maybe i should get back to my writing haha.. or reading
Always love;
Sierra
It was my funeral, of that I am sure, because I was the one in the coffin.
There were rows upon rows of benches, the kinds you find in parks, not churches. They were not all full but more than half were, the back rows were empty except for a few people that felt they shouldn’t have been there or didn’t want to be seen.
My immediate family were in front, a different look on each face; Longing, indifference, curiosity, boredom, envy and anger. Behind them were rows of the rest of my family, more cousins than uncles and aunts. The benches to the sides held my friends, long lost and people I had seen only last week.
For them having to see me like this, I am sorry. I never wanted to be buried. I never wanted an open casket. What I wanted was to be burned, cremated, put into a box and placed under a white tree next to her tree, and for her to carve out names onto the trees. Our trees.
I suspect she was pissed. She would have fought with them. Tried to tell them my song preferences. Where and how I wanted to be laid to rest. I suspect she brought forth our letters as proof, my silly handwriting scrawled between the lines, claiming my wishes and commenting on hers.
She lost. She must have.
It was her face I searched for. Her face I felt. She came up to me, placed lilies and her last letter on my chest and left a kiss on my cheek. I am sorry. I never wanted to hurt her, she is the last person I would ever hurt and even then, not intentionally.
I choked. I gasped, coughed and choked again. My back arched as my lungs tried desperately to take the energy my heart was giving them, to fill with the needed air. The air that had been missing since the day they found me in that river. My legs kick, my back arches further, picking up off the oddly comfortable casket floor.
I hear nothing, see nothing, and taste chemicals. Another attempted breath. It’s like being smothered in reverse. There is a huge weight on my chest, making it agonising to move, to think. The weight gets lighter but still pushes ever downwards. It all hurts, everything, my heart most.
And then my chest gives. The air is filling all spaces inside me, from my god given mouth to my toes somewhere in the bottom of the casket. My brain is dull, sluggish and my ears are ringing. With my eyes closed, I feel something holding my knees down and something pressing into the bottom of my ribs. Something starts to run down my face in dull throbs.
The first thing I hear is screaming. It’s a horrible sound; painful. I take another breath and the screaming stops for a brief moment, only to start up again. It’s me. I’m screaming. I open my eyes, wince at the sudden light and hastily close them again. I’m still screaming, the wetness of my face is due to me crying. I’m crying through the blindness, through the deafening screaming.
I open my eyes again, blinking rapidly to keep my eyes moist. The tears help. There is one figure to the side of my vision. I can’t look. And I’m out of breath.
“Breathe damn it! Breathe!” I yell at myself.
The shout rings through my head as I remember how to inhale. The screaming melts into violent sobs.
There are arms around me and below me.
----------------------------------------------------------
Sitting in English Writing at the moment.. this is my current story in progress, im hoping to put a few different peoples points of views in there, told from different point of views.
Any comments? Advice?
Is loving this 1000 Journals idea
http://www.1000journals.com
http://www.1001journals.com
I want to start some of my own, first one kept plainly between people i know, then from there some ones to be sent out, hopefully some nice people end up with them when they are finished
"Those who find the journals add something to them. A story, drawing, photograph, anything really. Then they pass the journal along, to a friend or stranger, and the adventure continues."
What fun it would be, what wonders we could all see, from this one book alone.
There is also a journal, 114, lost. it was last known to be moving towards Hobart, Tasmania, Australia. if anyone knows its whereabouts or know anything about it, please do pass the information on to me so i can pass it through to the creator
"I believe people are in our lives for a reason. We're here to learn from each other."
Take my hand, ill show you how to fly, but first, untie those bags of sand from your belt.
We all have friends that, although we love them more than they'll know, get to us rather hard. The good things you say about them, the true things.. They just don't believe you, they don't want to hear them. You listen to their troubles, their reasons of hating the world, of hating life, you listen because you care, not because you can stand it. You listen, and secretly promise yourself not to do this to another living person. If you catch yourself on the bridge of it, you stop yourself fast. Slyly numb it down, change the topic without them noticing. You manage all this around your own life, your own troubles. You continue on this track for years and years. You love them. Knowing that listening to them, letting them get it out will possibly help in some way, even if its only in a small way, you will keep it up. You have your days where you just wish to run. To scream, kick, cry and break things. But you come back, you continue in your routine. Because you care. Because you love them, and you wish for them to feel better, to see what you see in them, even if it takes your last ounce of energy to do so.
"Often the test of courage is not to die but to live."
Cover my ears, blindfold me, gag me, bind me, drug me. I wish not to use these senses, if only for an hour.
If only you could purchase optimism from the drug store. Drug Store Optimism. Yes please.
"Life is short and we have never too much time for gladdening the hearts of those who are traveling the dark journey with us. Oh be swift to love, make haste to be kind."
Where ever is my energy.. I cant keep this up for much longer.
Forgiveness is love in its most noble form. So love me.
"I saw a liquid control
That gives life to a soul
I hit my head on it and woke up to know
That I was all alone
Wearing just socks and a phone
Someone's screaming like their world might explode"
Not feeling my best. And i know im late with my posts. Ill get better.
Catch up dot points on current happenings anyone?
- still no job
- still haven't moved out
- still haven't dropped school
- wanting to do a gap year in the defense force next year but thinking ill just forget that and join full time. i think i need the break and someone else to decide on everything for me
- broke up with my girlfriend. silly thing is, i knew i shouldn't trust her ha, not after what she did to me, to my family, and yet i did it anyway.. stupid stupid girl i am.
- school reports are being written this week.. i need to get alot of work in.
- new kitten. im half hearted towards it.. because its replacing my cat and her kitten and adopted kitten that died a few months back. that and my mother and brother have joint custody of it, even though its replacing my cats. im a jealous one aren't i?
- new friends
- finding old friends
- trouble up in my neighbourhood with some over confident teenagers. a broken back car window, roughed up father, cop calls and alot of unneeded stress later, still nothing can be done yet
really liking the song Map of Your Head by Muse at this point in time, a friend at school was singing to herself, i asked her to sing louder because she has a lovely voice (and secretly it was making me feel so much better) and she was singing this song. wonderful x
Bear (new kitten) is sitting on my lap watching my fingers as i type and hiding her intentions behind her purrs.. im going to get clawed in a second ha
mmm im going to have a week of silence. not going to text facebook message or msn and such.. but i thought, seening my blog isn't directed at anyone, i could still use that. i will talk to people face to face if needed, i have school of course, but other than that, no. oh and im still writing my letters but wont send them until after my week. see how that goes yes? hoping it makes me feel better, less crowded
best go,
always love,
Sierra
