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cinematicrazorsharp
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Name: Grace
Birthday: 8/24/1985
Gender: Female
Interests: The thrils of going over a jump on a horse, the unrequited love present in songs, the mystery of literature, the inspiration, the swirls and twirls of art, the art, the endless beauty in everything around us unnoticed, the aged photographs from colour-burnt cameras, the old-school letters, the parcel in my mail, the simplicity in complications, the English accent hovering over electronic bands
Message: message me
Member Since:
8/25/2006
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| The day's last one-way ticket train pulls in
We smile for the casual closure capturing
There goes the downpour
There goes my fare thee well
Nestling on the density of bamboo shoots in my garden they were found dead in the morning. Dead. It's mother during the season's past had returned without fail, feeding, re-building the nest twice. Motherly instincts are never to be questioned. Two infant birds. There goes the past few months of hustling and bustling over the eggs, the cracking, the chirping thereafter. Excitement lost. Here and now i flagrantly claim: I have never lost anyone in my life before. Death has never dawned upon me to shed tears of memories for another's passing. Never to reminisce about how i'd never see them again, feel emotional hurt when i do. I'm not proud of this. I'm not grateful either. Because i know that when the time comes for me to lose someone so close to me, it comes, inevitably, with massive strains of pulling on heartstrings. Not for love. But for love lost. And i honestly do not know how to cope with that.
By the way, if anyone's wondering. I'm all Adam ftw.
The past months, lost in exposures of flashing and shutters setting off into the night: More Here... | | |
| It's never the same tomorrow
And tomorrow's never here.
The first two weeks of the month of April twenty hours and twenty-seven minutes past. The long anticipated two week break from the thirteen week long school term which left us sluggish and morose at even the thought of one more day. Seven more weeks to go till our five break therefore i am content. School has been utterly fascinating. In all areas you could possibly think of.
Jumped Mimo in the last show which went more perfect than i would wish for(: Clear round for jump-offs even as i await photos from whoever took them. Caroline's party was a mega gush of
Brace. Your. Selves. | | |
| Down where the city meets the sea
I sit and daylight speaks to me
She carries me away
Speaking of The Getaway Plan, they have disbanded. I have to say i did not see this coming. Apparently they have to "sit back and assess if everything is working the way it should be". Your music's taken flight, you have sold out gigs at the national tour, let's count- eighteen sponsors, of which include Sabian, Sennheiser, Glamourkills, Shure, Atticus, Converse, Warwick. So why is everything not working out the way they should be? I guess they have their reasons.
This is the past month in photos. (Oovoo chats, competitions, dinners, gigs, concerts)
The Sleepover:
More Here... | | |
| We built them up with these two hands
Guess who has the new macbook pro/iLife'09!
The past week was seemingly eventful. Milo tryathlon last saturday which was really extremely gay. Approximately 36 minutes for 300m swim, 12km bike and 3km run yes i am very unfit. It was way overcrowded with too many people not knowing what to do and where. Like honestly, More Here... | | |
| It's really the hurt that brings us together.
There are too many stories about suicide to start with. Too many to make examples of, too many to comprehend, too many to accept. They consist of too many people left distraught with half-filled memories, contemplating to share, or to keep secret in their hearts forever. They consist of shattered families. Families who will live their life telling their closest humans that their human took their life, leaving them with half-filled hearts. They wander about for the rest of their time floating in their minds with the what-could-have-been's and the what-could-have-been-done's. They consist of all their closest friends having to ricochet off all emotions they have felt, caressing them with depression over and over again till they are mislaid for good. If they never had friends, it leaves their acquaintences pondering what they could have done to avert the hurt. It leaves us all More Here... | | |
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