camilla de errico will definately be the basis of my sleave.
her artworks are outstandingly beautiful,
and to wear anything near as amazing as them on my body is an absolute honour.
i'm sick of this age thing, stop thinking about tattoos tianna.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
i admit
i am becoming quite frustrated with my age
this is the time in my life when being young is the worst thing in the world
and i honestly don't know what to do
i can't get mad or upset just because someones a year or two or even three older then me
that's just dumb
but i can't help it
i'm jealous
and i do not take jealousy well.
i am becoming quite frustrated with my age
this is the time in my life when being young is the worst thing in the world
and i honestly don't know what to do
i can't get mad or upset just because someones a year or two or even three older then me
that's just dumb
but i can't help it
i'm jealous
and i do not take jealousy well.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
this was written by my best friend, and is one of the best things i have ever read.
maddison rain mcnamara
you never cease to amaze me with your writing.
'ghost towns'
and all that's left of this is a ghost town. leftover scents and clothes that weren't picked up in the rush to escape those skin-prickling four walls.
look closely enough and you can spot the faint impressions between the sheets of lovers too far gone. this is summer, it can never be spring.
i'd like to write that all he was to me was a cold cup of tea, cobwebs in my cellar, an unfinished masterpiece.
but the wise page knew the truth and the blue lines dripped liquid empathy - i've always had an unhealthy attraction to incomplete things.
you know you have a permanent piece of my medium-sized australian heart.
i want nothing more than to tip-toe away, but my feet have made up their mind. they plant themselves firmly here in the midst of memories, and old thrift store jeans. i always loved those jeans.
realisation hits me like a brick. i am trapped here, dripping with denial and fermented dreams, i’m the girl who saw better blind, and this is my ghost town.
you've been the secret kept untold for so many Aprils and Mays, didn't you know? i think you have forgotten how to love me, now i'm left with only the sun's butterfly kisses and my morning lullabies as company.
but we still have our stories. we will always have those.
sticks and stones may break my bones, but procrastination destroys me.
maddison rain mcnamara
you never cease to amaze me with your writing.
'ghost towns'
and all that's left of this is a ghost town. leftover scents and clothes that weren't picked up in the rush to escape those skin-prickling four walls.
look closely enough and you can spot the faint impressions between the sheets of lovers too far gone. this is summer, it can never be spring.
i'd like to write that all he was to me was a cold cup of tea, cobwebs in my cellar, an unfinished masterpiece.
but the wise page knew the truth and the blue lines dripped liquid empathy - i've always had an unhealthy attraction to incomplete things.
you know you have a permanent piece of my medium-sized australian heart.
i want nothing more than to tip-toe away, but my feet have made up their mind. they plant themselves firmly here in the midst of memories, and old thrift store jeans. i always loved those jeans.
realisation hits me like a brick. i am trapped here, dripping with denial and fermented dreams, i’m the girl who saw better blind, and this is my ghost town.
you've been the secret kept untold for so many Aprils and Mays, didn't you know? i think you have forgotten how to love me, now i'm left with only the sun's butterfly kisses and my morning lullabies as company.
but we still have our stories. we will always have those.
sticks and stones may break my bones, but procrastination destroys me.
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