Foolish Games

I found him. He is inconvenient, inaccessible, inavoidable and ridiculously disinterested. My throat is closing over, and I can't breathe. But I can sing.

You took your coat off and stood in the rain,
You're always crazy like that.
And I watched from my window,
Always felt I was outside looking in on you.
You're always the mysterious one with
Dark eyes and careless hair,
You were fashionably sensitive
But too cool to care.
You stood in my doorway, with nothing to say
Besides some comment on the weather.

Well in case you failed to notice,
In case you failed to see,
This is my heart bleeding before you,
This is me down on my knees, and...

These foolish games are tearing me apart,
And your thoughtless words are breaking my heart.
You're breaking my heart.

You're always brilliant in the morning,
Smoking your cigarettes and talking over coffee.
Your philosophies on art, Baroque moved you.
You loved Mozart and you'd speak of your loved ones
As I clumsily strummed my guitar.

You'd teach me of honest things,
Things that were daring, things that were clean.
Things that knew what an honest dollar did mean.
I hid my soiled hands behind my back.
Somewhere along the line, I must've gone
Off track with you.

Excuse me, think I've mistaken you for somebody else,
Somebody who gave a damn,
Somebody more like myself.

You took your coat off,
Stood in the rain,
You're always crazy like that.

I don't get to choose. I'm in this. And that's what makes me mad, is that all i want is to be heard. For him it's just another one, or another time, but for me this is it. this is where it ends. I don't get to choose. It's not like i haven't been here before. this is time either 3 or 4 i've lost count. But this time, if i let go, i stop breathing. This one has the ability to affect the way I breathe for the rest of my life. this one has the ability to affect the way I sleep for the rest of my life. I'm in this till it's over and it makes me so mad. in 114 days i'll be eighteen years old, and yet, if this doesn't work it will break me.

If you read my first ever blog, you would have read that someone once broke me. i've only ever met two people with the ability to break me, and this is number two.

...and i can't stand the pressure.

The storm is coming but I don't mind.

People are dying, I close my blinds.

All that I know is I'm breathing now.

I want to change the world - Instead I sleep.

I want to believe in more than you and me.

But all that I know is I'm breathing.All I can do is keep breathing.

All we can do is keep breathing. Now...

Small town

ok so here's the thing. Sometimes i forget. I forget that I am Aliki. I forget that I am a Watson Jones and I forget that I am black. Then i walk down the streets of Bendigo and I remember. or it is remembered for me. there are 100,000 people in this town and they all know your business. if i disappeared off the face of the earth i would be found by some hick in this country town. Google my name, and there is a picture of me in year 7 in my high school uniform. Seriously, i wish sometimes I was anonymous, but I've come to accept the reality that, even if i wanted to be anonymous, i have three older siblings whose shadows i have to follow in. All these things may seem trivial to you, but when you serve people at a fruit shop who "remember you when you were in a push chair" for 4 hours straight on a Saturday morning, or walking down the street with your friends, coming home and half the town already knows what you bought and ate. I wish i was exaggerating but i'm not. this town of anglo saxons, caucasions, white people, whatever you want to call it, will swallow me alive. Not because i dislike living here, but because being a minority in a town that has the label as "least multiculural city in Australia"
I've been thinking about this for a while. I think it all started when the bus driver asked me how my new neice was. Considering my niece lives 200km away, i was startled. He said "oh i used to go for runs with your brother." SERIOUSLY.