When I was little
and innocent
I thought the world my friend
I thought it best to be kind
and curious
and soft

As I grew older
and sadder
I thought the world terrible
I thought it best to be cold
and distant
and hard

As I grow ever older
and hopefully wiser
I think the world neither bad
nor good
nor a mix in-between
just as it is
not worthy of kindness
not deserving of cruelty.

i. Soft, pink petals drift in circles on the lazy breeze.
Birds sing as they chase each other across the blue sky.
Sharp, green blades of grass tickle the back of my neck.
The sun is bright, so I keep my eyes closed.
Winter has fled in the face of a glorious spring.

ii. A sad girl with a beautiful smile shares this room with me.
Her life is made of empty fun, empty loves, and empty bottles.
She paints her face to cover the darkness around her eyes.
But concealer can't succeed in hiding the darkness in them.

iii. You can't call someone else irresponsible when you act like you do. When you can count your empty glasses, you can try again.

iv. Floating in the clear, cold water, with the sun beating down on my face, I escape. I have no worries, no distractions, no obligations. I let the scalding rays burn freckles into my nose. I let the waves spill into my eyes. I have no cares. I am infinite.

v. A word of advice to the male type of human: licking your lips at a passing girl doesn't make you attractive. It makes her want to take a shower. Alone.

vi. It's 4:13 and I'm still awake. I haven't been doing anything but staring at the ceiling since midnight. Why is it that in the dark, everything seems more real? 4:15..

We fall so hard. We dust ourselves off. We pretend that it doesn't hurt, that our knees aren't bleeding. We walk on, our heads held high, trying to exude a dignity we lost long ago. We look at the others and think that they are different. We want to believe that they are stronger, yet we wait for them to fail. We rationalize. If the superior, the brave, the proud, the unbroken, can stumble, maybe we don't have to be ashamed. We all crave love as we make ourselves hard to love. We're all the same. We turn a blind eye. We pity ourselves. We loathe who we are. We make unfair comparisons. We make excuses. We accuse. We playact. Sometimes I can hardly stand.

Breaking my heart inadvertently, you pull me close to yours. I can hear it beating, but not for me..
Effortlessly taking my breath, fingers lightly dancing on my shoulder, you make me remember..
The memory of being held so gently against his chest, his chin resting on my forehead, floods my mind..
Casually, unknowingly, you smile down at me. I smile back, but I am in pieces..

viii.
one hour spent and you couldn't decide..
why does everything you do need a confirmation from someone?
be your own woman.
no one cares as much as you think they do.

ix.
high heels scattered on the floor
clothes tossed on the bed
make-up littering the desk
the scent of hairspray in the air
a drop of nail-polish on the window-sill
loud music playing
young voices singing along
bodies colliding in too small a space
jewelry traded, earrings lost
perfumes sprayed and purses ready

x.
black outlines of branches
stars slowly starting to appear
yellow fading to orange to red to purple to blue
lights in windows coming on
silhouettes through the curtains
fog rising to kiss the lowering clouds
lamps clicking off in sync with street lamps
cliffs darkening until they disappear
only a few hours till dawn now

xi.
people who say they hate drama are usually the ones who create it.
if you want something, ask (and accept the answer).
if you don't like something, say so (or say nothing).
if someone doesn't like you, say "I don't give a ****" (and mean it).

There is a girl in my class, who up until yesterday had never seen a stamp that wasn't peel-off with sticky backing.
I watched for 5 minutes as she tried to find the non-existent edge to pull before I told her to lick it.


There is another girl, stereotypical blonde, who thought Brazil was in Europe.

There is no hope for our future.

i.
how can it be that they simply walk by,
while I, in contrast, stand stupid in awe.
cliffs veiled in fog
the lights of Geneva
mountains framing mountains framing valleys.
when did they forget to look?
when did they become accustomed?

ii.
when I'm lonely I stare at the pictures on my wall.
the same faces are repeated often,
and I try to memorize them so that next time I'm lonely
I won't lock myself in my room.
but I can't.
I can picture the faces of people I met yesterday,
but not the faces I've looked upon for years.

iii.
my mind struggles to wrap itself around new grammar,
words,
and pronunciations.
I'm supposed to be learning a new language.
instead it seems as if I'm forgetting two.

iv.
head pounding,
heart racing,
lungs burning,
legs aching.
**** Le Saleve.

v.
cycle of loneliness:
something you see, or hear, or do,
reminds you of something you know, or knew.
thinking of something you know or knew,
especially if it's not there with you,
will make you dream of it a time or two.
which makes you think of things that you
used to see, or hear, or do.
which reminds you of things you know, or knew.
in turn reminding you of him, or her, or them.  
and we all know what that means...
chocolate.

vi.
yesterday, a beautiful golden boy sat by my side at dinner.
he smiled at me with his bright blue eyes,
and he winked when he said my name.
today, I hoped that he'd sit there again.
I even left a chair empty. (just in case)
but today, he sat by the girl with the hair.
I always knew I didn't like her.

vii.
together we sit at a bus-stop.
we missed the 10h25, so we'll have to wait an hour.
you gave me your coat because I was shivering.
the sleeves are so long they reach the hem of my skirt.
you rested your head on my shoulder a few minutes ago,
your hair just brushes my cheek.
it smells good and manly, just like your coat.
but all I can think of is that I have to ***,
and there is nowhere to go but the woods.