Preserve your memories, they're all that's left.

So much has happend since my last post, but also, so little has happend. I mean, I have been out 'clubbing' twice, I have been to a 60th birthday party, I have watched all the Harry Potter films. Yet there it still feels as though I have not done anything at all and time seemsto have just. . .vanished.

I am quite, sad? At the moment. I havn't been writing, or doing much of anything and it feels awful, I need some inspiration but nothing has came up that has inspired me to write. Everything is just bland bland bland and there is nothing, I feel, I can do about it. The only plus that has happend is that it is now Sunday 1st August 2010, which means my family go on holiday for two weeks as of today.

Maybe them being gone will help me write more? I will have a lot more freedom at least. I just really feel like there is nothing left in Liverpool for me at all, I want to go to Lancaster, start a new life, be a new person, find new loves, find new friends and make new memories. That sounds so awful. Its not that I don't like my current life, my current self, my current loves, my current friends and, well I would say current memories, but thats not possible, aha. Its just that, I am getting restless. Liverpool has stated making me feel anxious.

I have come to realise that I am really awful at writing blogs. Again. I will finish this blog with some form of lyrics/poetry/quotes.

"Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Chops"
because that was the name of his dog
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
and a gold star
And his mother hung it on the kitchen door
and read it to his aunts
That was the year Father Tracy
took all the kids to the zoo
And he let them sing on the bus
And his little sister was born
with tiny toenails and no hair
And his mother and father kissed a lot
And the girl around the corner sent him a
Valentine signed with a row of X's
and he had to ask his father what the X's meant
And his father always tucked him in bed at night
And was always there to do it

Once on a piece of white paper with blue lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Autumn"
because that was the name of the season
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
and asked him to write more clearly
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because of its new paint
And the kids told him
that Father Tracy smoked cigars
And left butts on the pews
And sometimes they would burn holes
That was the year his sister got glasses
with thick lenses and black frames
And the girl around the corner laughed
when he asked her to go see Santa Claus
And the kids told him why
his mother and father kissed a lot
And his father never tucked him in bed at night
And his father got mad
when he cried for him to do it.

Once on a paper torn from his notebook
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Innocence: A Question"
because that was the question about his girl
And that's what it was all about
And his professor gave him an A
and a strange steady look
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because he never showed her
That was the year that Father Tracy died
And he forgot how the end
of the Apostle's Creed went
And he caught his sister
making out on the back porch
And his mother and father never kissed
or even talked
And the girl around the corner
wore too much makeup
That made him cough when he kissed her
but he kissed her anyway
because that was the thing to do
And at three a.m. he tucked himself into bed
his father snoring soundly

That's why on the back of a brown paper bag
he tried another poem
And he called it "Absolutely Nothing"

Because that's what it was really all about
And he gave himself an A
and a slash on each damned wrist
And he hung it on the bathroom door
because this time he didn't think
he could reach the kitchen."

This is from 'The Perks of Being a Wallflower, which I have started mentioning a lot in my blogs. Honestly, read it.