I'm Not Going To Write You A Love Song.

But isn't it funny how fate plays out?

One day you meet a person. You say hi, they say hi.

You observe them- how they look, how they talk, how they act.

You see them every now and then,

You build an opinion of them.

A neutral one,

You don't even know them.

But one day something changes.

Why are you searching for them in a crowd of people?

Why do you feel shy around them? Why do you feel like you must look especially lovely?

How come suddenly you want to talk to them, more than you cared to before?

Sooner or later you admit to yourself the answer to all of these questions.

Don't kid yourself, it's because you like them. That neutral opinion is gone. You fancy them, don't lie.

Things don't play out the way you would like them to, though.

Things happen and you realise they're not mirroring your feelings. It's a little sad, but you move on.

Or do you?

There are other people. Other boys.

You meet, you talk, you flirt and you think that maybe you like someone new now.

So then why does your mind keep reminding you of the first one? Why does something feel unfinished? You brush it off.

It's a meaningless thought. Right?

Wrong.

But you keep meeting people. You make new friends, one friend that stands out from the rest. He's like your other half- you have everything in common and you never tire of each other.

He's incredible,

And the new friendship is wonderful, and you think maybe this one is right.

But he's not the first boy;

And that makes all the difference.

And fate knew that.

Because lo and behold, he finds his way back into your life.

And those feelings? The ones you tried to move on from? The ones your mind kept reminding you of?

They're back.

But now you're confused- the friend or the first boy?

You won't kid yourself, you're too foolish and confused to sort it out yourself so you pray for some help.

But all the while, those peculiar feelings for that lovely friend begin to fade and those for the first boy come back even stronger. He's really got a hold on you.

Maybe this is a sign. You were given help in the form of a sign, and soon there's no denying it.

That friend? He's great. He's fun and lovable and you have plenty in common.

But the first boy makes your heart race and your stomach do peculiar things.

You realise that friend is a friend and you can never think of him as anything more. Those feelings have vanished.

And the first boy steals your heart.

So he's here in your life again and months pass;

And you only get happier.

You notice things about him- little quirks, habits-

And wonder if he's noticed yours.

One day you realise that you're so very comfortable with him;

You're happy for him to know your flaws and see you at your worst.

How is that?

When things go wrong, it's him you want.

He can make you smile without trying.

Magic.

One day you realise a lot of different things all at once.

You realise he's the only person in the world who makes you feel like this.

You realise the months you've spent with him have been some of the greatest of your life.

You realise how content and blissful you feel, lying in his arms.

You realise how lucky you are to have him, and how blessed you are.

You realise how empty you'd feel without him, which makes you realise you don't ever want to lose him. You want him around because you know you need him around.

And eventually, you realise you've fallen for him.

Well and truly. Completely. Totally. Undeniably.

Isn't it funny how fate plays out?

Vänligen. Gör inte detta. Du menar världen för mig och jag kan inte förlora dig. Jag känner mig så dum och jag är så arg på mig själv. Värst av allt, jag tror jag faller för dig. Bra jobbat, Anoosha. Din jävla idiot.

Hurt Me.

Oh my love is that a vulture?
Tell me it's a vulture
Standing beside you
Oh, Do you see your own face in his eyes
Do you see him like I do?

It used to be that when you said you believed it
I would believe it too
It used to be that when you said you believed it
I'd wanna follow you

But never where the dogs bark, never where the dogs bark

And I remember, praying at the dinner table
For you to come around
Maybe pat me on the back when your able

I've a dream of you with half a face
And you take me to rooftop
And skin me, come on Abel
Are you going to skin me?

And use it as a mask to keep you in the dark
'Cause the shadow of the moon won't do.

Cause I knew, the moon is but a pearl
Stolen from your mothers bedside
The day, you came into the world

Still now I can hear the dogs bark
I can hear the dogs bark
I remember, praying at the dinner table
For you to come around
Maybe pat me on the back when your able
Whole cities light up
But nothing can compare to you baby
So I stay waiting, laying on the dinner table

Waiting for you to Hurt Me, come on Abel
Hurt Me, Hurt Me, Hurt Me
Come down to the world
Cut Me, come on Abel
Cut Me, Cut Me
Serve Me round the table

And now, it's late
I'm on the table
Waiting for you, on the table
To carve it up and watch the splay go across the river bed

And sweet, aromas fill the halls
From all the bodies that came before
And thats the body
I swear thats the body

I remember
I was laying on the dinner table
And when you came around
You said you'll be doing fine, when you're able

Oh, Whole cities light up
But nothing can compare to you baby
So I stay waiting
Laying on the dinner table
Woohh, Hurt Me, Hurt Me, Hurt Me
Woohh, Cut Me, Cut Me, Serve me
Woohhh, Wohhhh
Wooooh, Wooooh

- The Jezabels

You Were Young Once.

For Mary. I know nothing of you, save for your name and that you touched my heart.

You were young once,

Your white hair, sparse and thin, twisted behind your head in a haphazard knot.

Your eyes once glistened with radiance and youth,

You were young once.

In Sunday bests, you sat in the chapel, eagerly awaiting the Sunday fair,

In dresses your mother stitched with such love, you danced at the ball,

Pearls glistening, curls bouncing-

You were young once.

You were a good student in those days. Studious and eager to go as far as the world would allow. And you did.

Your lips once kissed a handsome young man,

Your arms once held a beautiful child-

A perfect mother, caring and mild.

You were young once.

Those eyes that stare with both an emptiness and a longing,

The bittersweet nostalgia that washes over you each day.

What have they seen, those eyes, lady?

What wonders, what history, what change?

What happiness, what troubles, what mysteries that we'll never know.

You were young once.

Your hands tell a story of your past,

Each wrinkle and line a testimony of your life.

These are hands that have seen, felt, held, touched, experienced and lived-

Oh, the history of you.

But you were young once.

And now you have grown old. In the race of your life, you raced only against your years. They have caught up to you.

The eyes that have seen so much- they fail you now.

The ears that heard the carnival sounds, the school bells, the sweet nothings of a lover, the babies cries- they fail you now.

The hands with which you sculpted a life- they are frail, wrinkled, aged.

Nurses lead you to a room in which your life has been confined into the four moss green walls.

They bring you tea and a meal that you know you had once perfected.

The photographs on the wall exist as your only link to the past.

A small piece of the life that you had.

What do you feel, lady? What do you think?

Where is your mind now? Your memories?

You have grown old.

But you were young once.

Lana Del Rey - Paris

Happy Birthday, Mum.

Cough Syrups & Pills Are Making Up About 45% Of My Body Weight Right Now.

And I'm only slightly joking. I am so sick it's ridiculous. What's more ridiculous is how this illness came about. I believe it began with a tickle in my throat on Thursday night. Well, it developed over the weekend and now, lo and behold, I've been in bed for a good three quarters of this day, I've drugged myself up with every relevant medicine in the medicine box, and I've got a whole new set of abs from coughing so much.

A lovely start to the winter holidays, I dare say.

I really hate being sick. Everything aches and throbs and even making a cup of tea to soothe yourself takes effort. But enough of my whining. I intend on being better by tomorrow morning, and so I will not spend another second loathing my sick, sad existence.

Besides, I have things to do and plans to make.

Though it's absolutely of no concern to you, here's a list of the stuff I'm planning on doing:

• Seeing those friends I never get to see: Karen, Kim, Brigitte and hopefully meeting my lovely new friend Meleonie. (Hello, if you're reading this Mel!)
• Going to the Napoleon exhibition and Jewish Holocaust Museum with mum.
• Having a movie night with all my best friends.
• Sanding and painting my new dresser.
• Adding more patches to my patchwork blanket.
• Buying tickets to Gotye and Of Monsters & Men.
• Going to the drive-in's. I dont know who I intend on taking with me. We'll see.
• Op-shopping.
• Using my Dymocks book voucher.
• Putting more money towards my Mexico ticket.
• And finally spending my birthday money on something for me. Something other than food.

If all goes to plan, I'll have accomplished every one of those dot points by the end of my two week break. If not, you'll know I remained sick the entire time..