I miss this.

I want you to know how incredibly blessed I feel that you're my facebook friend. That once upon a time I knew you. That I can look back on times in my life and smile widely and say, "I sat for five hours just talking and drinking coffee in this little place in the middle of Glasgow." To say that for three hours one night in the Carling Academy I felt loved and scared and used and dirty and elated and ecstatic and you were right there with me, experiencing it.

After all, what happened at the Enemy, stays at the Enemy. That's right? Right? God, tell me it's right.

Don't fall in love with me because I will write about it.

Never.

I understand what I am still too proud to mention to you.

You say you understand but you don't understand.

You say you'll never give up seeing eye to eye.

But never is a promise and you can't afford to lie.

My fever burns me deeper than I've ever shown to you.

You say "don't fear your dreams", it's easier than it seems.

You say you'd never let me fall from hopes so high.

But never is a promise and you can't afford to lie.

You say it looks as though I might give up this fight.

I realise what I am now too smart to mention to you.

You say you understand, you'll never understand.

I say I'll never wake up knowing how or why.

I don't know what to believe in. You don't know who I am.

You say I need appeasing when I start to cry.

But never is a promise and I never need a lie.

Up in the air.

Photos are for people who can’t remember. Drink some gingko and let the photos burn. In fact let everything burn and imagine waking up tomorrow with nothing.

It’s kind of exhilarating isn’t it? That is how I approach every day.

I'll be composing my third photo album this week. I never want to forget this.

Wipe the sleep from your eyes.

I'm in a very sad mood.

I miss having friends. I miss Smiddy. And Jamie. I miss the fun I had with Cassie. I miss making Danielle laugh. I miss going to Gabbys house.

I don't know.

Lovers' carvings.

This doesn't even sound like me any more. So much is changing around me, I can't help but do the same, I can't keep up.

I've come so far from what I was. I'm not grown up yet but I'm growing. I don't want to grow old, bring me all the toys you can find.

"So, I am forgetting everything from now on. The past is exactly that, it's past, no longer important to me. Guess what I'm looking forward to? The future. What's to come? Phone numbers, rain and sun, holidays, new friends. I love meeting new people, it's something that comes all inclusive with that "future" package I received. I chucked my Past in the bin, it was getting old." o6-o3-o9

I know exactly who I want to be now. I want to be the girl in front of the art easel, with long, flowing blonde hair. She's wearing a faded blue shirt that's three sizes too big for her. She's got legs up to her shoulders. She doesn't need make up.

But I can only be me. Being me is much easier that being anyone else. Not half as exciting, but less effort.

Nothing I write is ever good enough.