I am...

I am a ghost. A spectre, a shadow. My existance is but a fleeting thing, it is only the absence of another embodiement. My considerations contain no weight, my interpretations have no meaning, my life has no journey to follow.

I am but half of what I was, and even less than that half am I now. I do not consider my consiousness an existence, merely a status of fact, a status that can and will be nullified. When, you ask? I do not know. All I know is that I cannot endure as I am.

I step through the shadows, through the memories of what people once had, I stand in their absence. I stand in the memory of what was, but no longer recalled; I am forgotten.

What has brought this about? The knowledge that I am, and always will be, completely worthless. And don't go throwing the blame on my mother either, she and I are getting along well enough now, it is her boyfriend that I am having problems with.

I don't mind being accused of things that I've actually -done-, like leaving the occasional cheese wrapper on the bench and whatnot. I know my room is a mess -- one of his main complaints that he, and I quote 'don't want to go in there for fear of something biting me' <-- a="" accuses="" alone="" am="" and="" aparantly="" as="" being="" br="" cat="" cruel="" do="" down="" five="" for="" he="" her="" him="" i="" in="" just="" kitten="" leave="" locked="" locking="" looked="" me="" meaning="" minutes="" mother="" my="" of="" offer="" on="" out="" patiently="" room="" s="" sat="" she="" since="" sitting="" tactile="" taking="" that="" the="" to="" tv="" up="" was="" watched="" while="" you="" your="">
....

Okay, great. Accusing a girl that sees a TV show in it's ENTIRETY that -she- chose to watch maybe once a MONTH, of sitting down and watching the news that more often than not she has no interest in!?

I have had enough. I was -this- close to bringing it to blows with him, and I'm not a violent person, not in that manner! I was -so- angry that I actually growled. Well, snarled would be a better word I suppose, like a dog would, the rumble in the throat and everything. I haven't been so bloody close to hitting someone since I was twelve. I almost couldn't control it, I had my hands fisted so tightly that I was actually hurting myself. So while mother tried to calm him down, I sat on my bed, tears streaming down my face as I snarled -- primal, primitive sound of pure rage -- I don't get angry, I get furious when people royally piss me off.

Only one other person annoyed me to that same extent, and he freaked out and ran when my eye's changed. They're usually blue, a nice, bright blue with green around the iris (a little bit, and it's only if you look closely that you can see it) but when i'm that pissed, they go purple. The angry, roiling purple of a thundercloud, complete with the swirling. That's what others have told me, I don't recall what actually happened, only that he ended up with a massive bruise and a fractured rib or three.

*sighs*

Come new years, I am out of here. I'll have to be anyways, since the majority of the uni campases are in Joondalup. About two hours drive from where I currently am.

I am not like you.

I am not like you,
you who walk in the day,
you who live, love, breathe,
hope and of course, pray.

I am not like you,
you who walk in the night,
you who hate, hurt, loathe,
bleed, and of course, fight.

I am not like you,
those who walk the street,
steadily walking down a path,
stones steadily passing beneath your feet.

I do not walk a path,
nor hope, hate, love, loathe,
live, bleed, fight nor pray.

I stand at the crossroads,
watching as you pass,
watching where your road leads,
where you stumble, where you laugh.

I mark the divergance,
I watch what you do,
I note the change;
I am not like you.

~~~~~~~

A curious little thing I came up with yesterday, you know when you have a poem just waiting to be written? Or maybe you don't, but it was like that for me, it was wonderful, happens so rarely now, unfortunately.

What else shall I tell? Oh yes, I had a human biol exam this week, well, last week, I got the results this week, it had two parts, theory and practical, 63% of the theory (ahem, too many questions attempted, sadly) 78% on the practical though! and as each was worth 5% that lifted my average mark from 54% to 62%!!! And I'm like, -score-. Fairly chuffed there.

I'm doing pretty well in lit too, I think, I hope. I've got to check what my score there is as well too, I said as much to mother dearest, and you know what her reply was? 'It doesn't matter, do better'. To that i'm like...oh thanks. Great. What's the point of doing 'better' if you don't know if the 'better' actually does anything.

So, while on some aspects my relationship with my mother has gotten better, in others it hasn't.

Take not five minutes ago for example, she yelled at me because I didn't go and wash the seven year olds hair, when I wasn't sure when she'd start her shower or anything like that, I mean, -i- am not the one that has to take care of her and all that. Fair enough she asked me, but when I told her that I wasn't sure, and what with th epropensity she (the kid) has for wasting time, who knows when it would have happened?

And then, because she growls at me, and growls at her boyfriend, I"m the badguy. I can understand that, honestly. But her argument, that because she's working tonight she shoudn't have to do anything, doesn't wash. I mean, if you made school into a 'job', i've got two, and on my weekend, the only day when I'm -not- working, ie, sunday, I shouldn't have to do anything, or rather, have time to relax adequately, which she seems bent on removing from me. *sighs*

Ah well, life will go on, as it always does.

Mirror, Mirror

I open my eyes and what do I see;
in the mirror, staring back at me?
a creature of repeated history,
something I never wanted to be.

It has my eyes; it has my nose,
it's a duplicate of me, down to my toes,
but this creature is not me,
it is not how I am meant to be.

There is my smile, my white teeth,
my manner and method of speech.
Whatever it is, this creature's a lie;
it may look like me, but it is not I.

There's my hair, my oily skin
my face, neither too fat nor thin.
It looks like me, but it is a lie;
this creature, it is not I.

I open my eyes and in the mirror I see,
an Image, a duplicate, a being of me.
Yet it's a lie, a fake, a falacy;
it's the truth I refuse to see.


Not sure how to spell falasy....false basically is the meaning. Anyways, enjoy.

ps. edited. Falacy and 'and' and 'wanted'