Tuesday, 30 October 2012

Le fin.

You are pulling on my heartstrings. Tighter and longer every time. Up to a point where I can't push myself aside for you Not any longer. I have been holding myself back during this whole thing. Your last chance was tonight. Things went well and I was starting to appreciate us again. You pulling this lie on me though. You just played your last card and I am not sure if I am willing To give you another chance. My deck isn't endless and neither is my love for you. There are lines, and you have crossed them more than once. I have put up with this for too long. You have to endure me as well sometimes, but you really brought Things to a point where I don't know how to go back again. You leave me stuck in a place I don't want to be in. The time of playing games is over. Either you respect me and understand my wishes. Either you try to understand things and not make all of this about you. Or this has come to a full stop.

Wednesday, 24 October 2012

Ik neem mijzelf te serieus. Dat is mijn probleem. Het recht is niet aan mijn zijde als ik beweer te oud te zijn om te leven. Maar soms voel ik mij zo zonder levenslust. Misschien komt het door de eeuwige grauwigheid die schuilt in mijn kamer en daarbuiten. Het kan ook liggen aan het gegeven dat ik mijn dagelijkse bezigheden vervul met hoge hakken aan en een colbertje. Ik kijk gewoon te serieus. Of kijk ik jouw te verveeld aan? Feestjes staan niet meer zo vaak in mijn agenda en ik doe meer nuttige dingen dan dat ik ze heel erg leuk vind. Het plezier heeft zich uit mijn greep weten te wrikken en ik wil het weer terug vangen. Misschien moet ik alles maar even loslaten en weer leven zoals ik dat deed op mijn 17e. Toen was het leven mooi. Nu lijkt alles teleur te stellen; mijn keuzes, mijn relatie, het weer, mijn motivatie. Ik wil weer leven en genieten.

Monday, 22 October 2012

Morning dew.

And the morning dew stuck to the leaflets like ice to the lake on a cold, winter's day. Then the bushes shivered from the fresh, autumn wind raging through the atmosphere. The roads were still and pathways untouched. Mist droplets soaring through midair as if rush-hour had only just begun. The quiet filled me with gladness and the peace soothed my pain. In an instant I felt happy. Life was full of bliss in that moment.

ANIMA from Andrew Wilding on Vimeo.

Saturday, 6 October 2012

Flirtatious Hats.

The army green hat never saw her before. It was a small, innocent hat with a dent in the middle of the top. A slick silk piece of strand tied around its belly. Always tightened nice and sir'ly. He always had a fabric eye out for the soft pink ball cap that used to settle herself on the cashier counter of the store. Tucked in the back right corner of the store, where the wall decorations gave her a wonderful splendor, an exhilarating extra touch of beauty. Every aspect of the store suited her well, and he knew they would never make a Vogue magazine together. It would be either her in the summer edition or him in the Fall edition. Never would they be seen together. This brought him to a major disappointment, as if the purpose of his existence had been stolen out of his 30 dollar life. Slipped from his textured fabric, slippery like the silk of his belly. The inside of Mr. Army-hat felt so hollow now, no head would be able to fill it completely. One day a small, blond girl chose Miss Pink-hat. The army green hat just hung there, silent and motionless on his hat stand. Watched the pieces of paper with dollar signs replace the pink ball hat. The pink ball hat was put onto the blond, curly, swishy haired head of the small girl. Army green would never be the same shade of green again. It turned darker and weary from that moment onwards. After a few weeks even the faint smell of pinkness had blown away from the store. Mr. Army-hat was never to be army green ever again, he had faded and darkened to a mere feltgrau. Never to recover again.