For we must all learn to howl.

The woods are lovely, Dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep. - R . Frost

she wanted to be fire, to burn so bright none could bear to look into her soul to be desirable, untameable she wanted to be the one who shone red, blood red, fire red but all she saw in the mirror was messy lips; ruined mouth freckled skin; dark shadows eyes too big – or were they too small? hair that once blazed with flames but had long since faded into browns and greys and the only red came from within, when she opened the door and it bubbled up she wanted to be the sun but she was the moon even her wolves would not acknowledge she was the moon who pretended to be the sun and that was not enough. how do you stop everyone from leaving? you hold the door open and thank them for stopping by, and when they go you lock the door and set the house on fire. and then you burn, darling, how you burn.

Love, love, love... It's nothing more than a waste of time, really. Yes, I love you. I also love him, him, her and many others. The love I have for you is similar and yet different from that which I have for other people. Why should it be so complicated? I love you. Maybe not in the same way you might feel for me, but I do love you. How should I explain this to you? That this love is so different and yet so similar? I loved you before I hurt you, before you hurt me. I say I don't, but this ache in my chest says otherwise. Yes, I do love you. I'd be lying if I said I loved you in the same way you did me. Then again, I'd also be lying if I said I didn't love you in my own way. Love, love, love. This is why I detest it, this is why I loathe it as much as I don't want to believe in it. Why should something appear so simple and yet make itself so complicated? Why should we care , why is it so devastating that someone might not love us the way we...

I recently asked this question on Kiwi - what do you think "love" is? I'd answered this very same question about two years ago, but a friend suggested I try answering the question all over again because well, I might answer differently. I think love is him listening to you when you laugh, when you cry, when you tell him your secrets and fears and how you're terrified that you're not a good person and will only end up hurting everyone dear to you. Love is him shoving harsh truths in your face because he knows you well enough to know that you can handle it, that you need to hear it. It's holding yourself very, very still when he falls asleep on your shoulder because dear god his hair is so soft and ticklish and you're trying so hard not to laugh or wriggle away. It's you falling asleep on him and him not saying a word when you have a nightmare and don't realise your nails are digging into his arm. It's her hugging you so tight that it ...

For those who don't know, I'm on Kiwi! That's a website that's similar to ask.fm except for the fact that it's not as popular - I like it, though! Anyway come say hi if you like :) Someone recently posed a question, asking what colour love was. I couldn't answer it because of some kind of server issue, but I thought I'd post my answer up here. What colour's love? It's red - that's for passionate, fiery love. It's green - that's for when jealousy sticks its ugly little head into the door. It's blue - for the unrequited, for the meaning behind "la doleur exquise". It's yellow - for the innocence, for the days of blissfully happy, dizzyingly ignorant affection when you only see each other and nothing else. It's orange - for how stupidly brave you get around each other, so willing to try anything the other person wants to. It's purple - for the acceptance, the tolerance, the patience. So what colour is ...

Client presentation next Monday and we're so scared - we had problems from the get-go, mostly because we couldn't really agree with the client's message, but we did work hard on the report that we needed to prepare for them and now our ideas just don't seem good enough.  So now we're beyond worried because we have less than 7 days, and we have to come up with an idea that will replace the one our lecturer dismissed as weak and please both the lecturer and the client, and we can't for the lives of us think of anything. PR audit. PRIMARY: Come up with an idea to replace the old one. SECONDARY: Follow instructions sent in email. INDD Resume PRIMARY: Finish photoshoot and get follow-up answers. WRITE THE ARTICLE. SECONDARY: Piece it together in InDesign. RJ Story PRIMARY: Interview people. SECONDARY: Piece the story together. Yeah, pretty much. I've got a post for Halloween that I haven't started on just yet, but I fu...

How does it feel? Tell me, does it feel good? Knowing what you've done, staring at yourself in the mirror the morning after? That slow realisation, that look of horror - it looks amazing, honey. It's almost completely believable. You're always harping on about if words truly have meaning, and let me tell you that your friend was right. It's not about the words themselves but the person behind them - if the words sound hollow it's not because they're hollow. It's because the person who said them is. So don't you dare. What right did you think you had, to hurt someone that way? To hurt someone who should never have been hurt by you? So what, you hurt someone and then you cry about hurting them? You don't have that right, sweetie. You're such a cruel person, truly you are. So stop hiding and pretending that you aren't.

At what point do words become too painful to read? They’re just words – squiggles and lines and dots of ink on a piece of paper. They’re empty, or are they truly? Perhaps words on paper are like tea leaves in water – leave them to steep and they infuse their environment with their smell, their colour, their taste. I wonder what words taste like. Maybe a coffee; maybe a tea?