It ends with a kiss.

Whilst cliché, it was the only way for it to happen; an influx of pain and pleasure

And whilst I don't understand "Quick and painless" I could do nothing but draw it out longer.

I wish not to leave you; this scene; these stains of what was.

Or What is.

But, I kid. As to kid, for me, is to sustain, that which is guised with hypocratic surface.

But, I wish not to deem myself a martyr. Or one who is indeed belittled or deserving of empathetic touch.

Empathy is wasted, for I em pathetic.

The feelings that crush had been gone for so long, but have soon returned - albeit in a different form.

Confusion leads to pain followed shortly by regret, the circle of my mind continues to spin on its small, sharp axis.

I know not whether to dread, or to forsee simplicity in your presence; however my mind is perplexed nontheless.

Gibberings of the insane; it may be mis-communicated. Or the truth that I wish not to face.

Why don't you just go paint or write a song about it, you melodramatic, pretentious fuck.

i'm guessing that this is a feeling that will always be there. even if subtly.

i miss you already.

I have a new found love for Emin and her work:

"The drawing has the innocence of a young girl staring out beyond the picture. It makes me want to jump into the paper, grab hold of the girl - who is me - and shake her and tell her everything is going to be all right. I wonder if drawings can be the imprints of our souls? Maybe some drawings existed before they were actually made, and they just float around in the ether like ghosts, waiting to appear on paper.

INSPIRING, NO?!

Tracey Emin's "Ripped Up" -

Moved me so much more than words could express. Truely the matter of nightmares.

Part of her "Abortion" series - through which she attempts to depict her abortion from memory. Haunting.

I NEVER KNEW I COULD CRY THAT FUCKING MUCH.

I've figured out a surprisingly effective form of calming oneself down and/or boosting your spirit; even if just temporarily.

Simply take some Blu-Tack, roll it into a ball and press your thumb firmly into it, leaving the mark of your thumb-print.

I find It is an easy way to affirm your importance in the world - whilst your thumb-print may be subtle or not easy to see, be assured that it is there. As is your imprint on the world. You are much more important you will ever imagine.

Smile; time should never be wasted.

Text language - despite becoming increasingly more and more detatched from reality/the spoken word still affects me deeply when I receive texts such as this one from my Father simply saying

"Luv u guys."

Much more powerful than you could imagine, one reckons.

The word "Martyr" should never be put in a self-analytical kind of way twice on one person's blog.

Shit. I fucking wrote it twice, didn't I?

Literally at the point that I don't want this summer to end.

The most sickening thing is; despite the poignancy of "Art is Dead" I still want my art to be appreciated. It's a painful cycle.

Fucking Martyr.

Why do I seem to have a strange interest/attraction toward mental illnesses/disorders?

Wait a minute, you don't know. You're the internet.