Who am I? Who are you?

Sometimes, you have to step outside and take a breath. Sometimes, you have to step outside to realise who you are.

I detatch myself from that enviroment, it has nothing to do with me. I will have nothing to do with it, for I could think of nothing worse than being that sort of person.

The sort that lies, cheats, their way to affection. The kind whose idea of romance is a half-bottle and a backseat. The type that smile to your face, and then stab you in the back.

If it makes me hated in their world, so be it. Frankly, I couldn't care less. I might contradict myself at times, but I will never be such a blind hypocrite.

The funny thing is, they don't see what they're doing wrong. They don't see the damage they leave behind, because they walk on and expect others to clean up after them. Every single fucking time.

I will always be, who I want me to be. Not influenced by the others around me, but only myself. In the long term, I know that it's the right thing to do. I don't need to be accepted or openly embraced by the High School cliches. I have my friends, who mean more than anything to me.

I step outside, and there's my entire world. Soon I'll be able to shut the door, and put the keys through the letter box.

You.

Nicotine stained finger tips,
Trace rainbows in the sky,
Hold up this smile on my face,
Never let me fall.

Blood stained red lips,
Press their love on your cheek,
Sunset on this forgetable day,
Let tomorrow come.

Bright eyes flicker,
Emit tears that trickle down,
Relieve much intensity,
Those dark shadows come out.

Don't wanna grow up.

I go into my fourth year of high school in, oh, 30 minutes.
Timetable change, teachers swapped about, the usual.
My prelims are less than six months away, and my final exams are only a year.

Fuck, I remember when I was a first year.

I'm citing for a one-way ticket to Neverland, if anyone wants to come with.

Roses for the Dead.

I didn't want to grow up without my Dad, but I was left without a choice. I was too young to fully understand the situation, but old enough so that I remembered every little detail - so vividly, that it can haunt me even today. I never understood why he was taken away from us, and I still don't. One minute I was Daddy's little girl, and the next I was 'Davie's only daughter'.

When my Dad died, I took two weeks off of school - the funeral, the family and the aftermath of it all. I could've taken the whole fucking year off, I didn't feel any better. My Gran [My Dad's Mum] wanted me to wear black to his funeral, and I point-blank refused. I didn't want to be around distant family that I'd never known to begin with, so I went off to the swingpark with my cousin. I didn't want anymore time moping around at home, so I went back to school.

I was ten years old, I wasn't old enough to get my head around any of it.

I was never a proper Christian, I wasn't sure if I believed in God or not. After my Dad's death, I decided that I didn't. If there was some God looking down and protecting us all, why was he letting all of this happen? I prayed everyday for my Dad to get better, but he never did. I watched my family go through hell and back, and I had my own fucking Dad stolen from me. At that point, I lost what little faith I had.

I watched him die right infront of me. Everyday, he grew weaker and weaker. They're not supposed to let you out of the hospital under you're better, but they let him back home as he grew worse and worse. On a good day, he could come downstairs but on a bad day, he could barely even move. At one point, he was so drugged up that he couldn't even remember who I was. That broke my heart.

The night before he died, I kissed him goodnight. It was like he was already dead. I stood there shaking, watching his chest rise and fall slowly but surely. I went to my bed, and cried for what seemed like hours. Just after midnight, my Mum came into my room. She didn't say a word, but she didn't have to - I just knew. I didn't cry, because I'd already cried. I wasn't surprised, I was relieved. I knew when I'd said goodnight, that was it. It was all over now.

Five years to this very day, and I miss him more than ever. It doesn't get easier, it just gets harder and harder.

Childish lips, such sweet laughter.

I spent yesterday supervising a class of seven year olds. I made cubes out of straws and 'playdoh', and read 'James and the Giant Peach' to them. I spelt out words so they could write them in their diaries, I got chased around at playtime - very cute, but very demanding.

Although I knew this before, I am positive I could never be a teacher. Not to kids of this age, anyway. I feel like the smile on my face is painted on, and it's not allowed to fade for any part of the day. You have so many expectations, like you're supposed to have any answer to everything. You're supposed to play twenty different games, with forty different kids. You can't have and 'off' day, because these kids will demand to know why.

You either have to be a sunshine kid, or a damn good actress. Unfortunately, I'm neither.

I admire the naivety in these children, I hope they stay that way for as long as possible. I wanted to grow up fast, and I wish I could take that back. The only thing these kids worry about is who they're going to pair up with for library, or what they're going to play at breaktime. They cry over cut fingers, and everything is cured by a smile.

It all seems so easy.
When you're feeling like I am, there's nothing more desirable,
than pretending that you're seven years old again.

You'll never make me leave, I'll wear this on my sleeve.

I'm in love all over again.

The butterflies in my stomach.
The [happy] tears.
The smile on my face.

I feel like I've just got you back,
and now I'm letting you go again.

Come back soon, darling.

Just Fuckin' Live.

That's the best piece of advice I could ever give, and have, indeed, ever been given. Life's too short, so just fucking live.

It's true; life is too short. Too short to worry about all this 'he said, she said' bullshit, and too short to worry about what other people think of you. You need to decide how you want to make your mark on the world, put a smile on your face and get on with it.

Easier said than done, I know, I'm still working on it.

I watch people judge others everyday, I even do it myself. You need to take a good look at yourself, before you cast judgement over anyone. She's two-faced? Well, guess what, honey - so are you. You can call people ugly all you want, it just turns your insides uglier.

There are always going to moments when you just want to give up, but then there are always going to be things worth living for. Not every day is going to be a good day, but not every day is going tobe a bad one.

I've been chewed up, spat out and have been lying here ever since.
Well, maybe it's time to pick yourself up and do something about it.