thoughts from the raft. #1

catefrances

he thought he knew her. he didnt know her at all. she knew that. she allowed him to see only what she wanted. what she thought would keep him close. when she was alone she let everything else out. on a couple of occasions he caught her in the middle of one of her turns and it stopped him cold. each time he thought was the last time. each time he was mistaken. he loved her. he told her enough times for her to believe it. and more importantly he believed it. she wanted to break him. to see if she could. she was sure she could. it would be her pleasure. and she would be victorious. she gave him all that he wanted and sometimes more. she held him so close he could hardly breathe. and she drew strength from his incapacity. he never thought he'd go too far or that he'd fall when she was around, cause she swore she'd always be there to catch him. but who would be there to catch her? there was no one and that was the beauty. she would disintegrate and she would take him with her. it was not a noble journey but it was an honest one. did that make it noble? he could walk away anytime he wanted. she'd told him that. and she told him that only because she knew he wouldn't walk away. he couldn't. he wanted to go where she was going and he wanted to go there with her by his side. if she stopped he would stop. if she continued he would not hesitate. he was as destructive as she was. they were both their own and each others' worst enemy and best friend.

catefrances

she was good. drunk and he didn't even know it. sure she spoke more than usual, but that was difficult to tell most times cause she was such a talker anyways. she sat and listened to his voice, wanting so much to reach out and touch him, but she didn't trust herself. it has been so long since he'd expressed any desire for her and she wanted the first move to come from him. mind game? maybe. she didn't care. she was tired and the thought that he could or would reject her made her not even bother to try. as she listened to him speak she wondered, and not for the first time, what the point of it all was. was she getting some perverse pleasure from the indifference she was feeling? did she keep it all to herself, in order not to antagonise him. was she just looking for an excuse to drink? so many questions. and none with answers. or at least answers she liked. anything was plausible and it aggravated the hell out of her. she just had to face the truth that she loved to drink. she loved everything about it. the smell of the wine. the sound it made as it dropped into her glass. the rich red colour. the feel of it as it flowed over her tongue and down her throat. the sadness that came over her. the anger that brewed so intently within her. the way the words seemed to appear on the blank page with ease. the fuzz she felt the morning after. the way it gave her an excuse to hate him. she could excuse any act or any word or any feeling because it was just the booze, right? she wasn't responsible for what she did or said or thought because it was just the booze talking. she had done some wicked things whilst intoxicated and from her vague memory she had loved just about every one of them. when she was sober she was fine. wasn't she?

catefrances

what a fool she'd been. trying to make sense of what was inside. keeping things at a distance and with no success. why should she bother. why should she bother at all. was there something she wasn't seeing. or did she see it plainly but choose to ignore it. is denial just another lie or some test to be passed. she threw aside the curtain and let the morning sunshine in. it bathed her whole body in its warmth and she wanted to drink it all in. but there was still the shadow. a coldness that enveloped her and she could not rid herself of its spectre. she turned her back to the outside and stared at the seemingly lifeless form half hidden beneath the blankets. it was then that she realised what she was looking at was representative of her whole life. every morning she woke up but she sleptwalked through her life. she breathed as they all did, but she never felt alive. she tried to end her life, but somehow she kept on living. she surrounded herself with people she had no respect for because she could use them. she said she loved them but she didn't. she needed them and she wanted them, but what she felt for them was...nothing. is feeling nothing feeling something? does she feel nothing for these people cause she feels nothing for herself? no, that's not true. she does feel something for herself. she feels disappointed and a slow boiling hatred that she manages to mask with a plastered smile and quick wit. she learnt long ago that people want you to feel the same way they are feeling. if they are happy than you better bloody be happy as well. otherwise you are discarded and shunned like some major malfunction of human society. why can't you be happy? what's wrong with you? what have you got to be sad about? you're just so ungrateful, plenty of people have got it worse off than you. no shit sherlock. but those people are not me. i don't want your pity or you're mocking comfort. i want to be left alone. if you want me to be more like you, leave me alone. if you see yourself in me or are afraid that maybe sometime soon you can see yourself gazing at your lover and feeling nothing for them but an overwhelming urge to run, then leave me alone. you are nothing to me. only to myself am i something. and as i walk across the room to slide once again beneath the blankets, that something slowly melts into nothing.

catefrances

she can't remember when she'd felt so calm. it kinda freaked her out and she wondered how long it'd last. she'd finally allowed something she was holding so close to her to breathe, and it felt okay. she thought she was beyond trying to control anything. she thought maybe this allowing things to blow themselves out was a piece of inspired thinking on her part. maybe she was wrong. she wanted to do it that way, but she doubted she had the strength. this was the way it had to be done. and it wasn't the easiest thing letting go when what you wanted to do was wring the life out of something until it died. she needed her focus for other things more tangible. he had his own life and she needed to let him live it. he would still remain a part of her. for how long she wasn't sure. but she knew it would give her comfort to think of him when she needed just to breathe. and she no longer wanted to play the if only game. it took too much energy from her. it was time.

catefrances

i had a thought today, as i often do. but it was so ephemeral that it was as if i'd never had it in the first place. it came to me and yet i could not grasp it. i reached out but it danced beyond me and turned its back. as i said, i get these thoughts often and it both pleases me and causes me dismay. i like that my mind is so active and that it can amuse itself with not much effort when i am otherwise occcupied. but conversely i dislike that my mind gets beyond me. when i need silence and calm it nevers comes. it is an annoyance that when i need to, or even when i just think i am in need of it, concentration eludes me. i work to write everything down so i don't forget it. my memory is so vague at times that should a good thought pass through, if i don't immediately jot it down, it is bound to escape to a place i can retrieved it from.

catefrances

i had a thought today, as i often do. but it was so ephemeral that it was as if i'd never had it in the first place. it came to me and yet i could not grasp it. i reached out but it danced beyond me and turned its back. as i said, i get these thoughts often and it both pleases me and causes me dismay. i like that my mind is so active and that it can amuse itself with not much effort when i am otherwise occcupied. but conversely i dislike that my mind gets beyond me. when i need silence and calm it nevers comes. it is an annoyance that when i need to, or even when i just think i am in need of it, concentration eludes me. i work to write everything down so i don't forget it. my memory is so vague at times that should a good thought pass through, if i don't immediately jot it down, it is bound to escape to a place i can not retrieve it from.

catefrances

ever told someone you'll talk to them on a certain day and spend the rest of the week busting out of your skin cause you want to talk to them before that. so you bite your tongue cause you know they need their space. and you know you have to respect that space. and honouring that respect is a battle of wills wholly within yourself. inside your head you have these one sided conversations going through all the things you want to say to the person. these are the thoughts running through my head. thoughts i can't share. thoughts that will go unspoken. thoughts that are for someone who will never hear them.

catefrances

you ever seen the colour of the water in a sink slowing filling with blood. how at first it just looks dirty. but as your life flows into it, it looks like weak tea or maybe watered down cola. how each cut darkens it until it looks like darjeeling. well maybe not that dark. but you get the gist. darjeeling without the milk. and you think back to when the last time you drank milk was - at your mother's breast. you realise you can't remember anything from that time. probably a good thing. you know it doesn't hurt so bad what you're doing. kind of a dull ache, numbed by the hot water your arm lies in. you watch the patterns made as your blood floats within its new stream. you lay your head down on the edge of the sink and sing along through tears to the music. some of the notes you miss cause your nose is runny and snot blocks your throat and you choke on your own tears. i will scream my lungs out til it fills this room...
you've always like blood. the colour, the smell and the taste. you wonder if everyone's blood tastes the same. and wonder how you'd go about finding out if that is true. or not. lifting your arm from it's watery bed, you put your tongue to your skin. and then you do something you wish there was someone else with you who could do it for you. you suck the blood from your veins and close your eyes while it dries on your lips. a small smile crosses your mouth. you rest your head again and your thoughts drift away. it doesn't matter where they go anymore. nothing matters anymore.

catefrances

no one paid her
any attention.
after she was gone
they said
they never noticed anything
was wrong.

catefrances

what a difference a week makes.

catefrances

you know, you lost something rather special when you turned your back on me. but then again you never really had me to begin with did you? for whatever reason you chose, you had to know it wasn't ever gonna fly with me. the fact that i demand your full attention wasn't amything i wasn't willing to do myself. to put you high upon that pedestal. so now i sit here with a half empty glass drowning the sorrows that have built over this past week, and i wonder what the fuck is wrong with me and how you can't see what i am. who knew that your silence could turn to so much violence against myself. i know i'm not like everybody else and i never pretended to be like them. if you had have given yourself the chance you would have found that out. i am only ever myself and it's you that misses out.

catefrances

can you see the lilac blossom just beyond the garden gate? the pretty colours mesmerise for such a brief time and then they're gone. and i know it too late it's much too late. i tried to put the thoughts away, to turn my back on them. but every time i think i've succeeded, they always come back to me again. i try to still my mind but the motion becomes my sickness. i'm not sure whether i will outgrow this. i highly doubt it. it's been with me all my life so far. i know there's something wrong and i need to know what that is. if only for my peace of mind. i have come to the middle of my life's journey and find myself deep inside a dark wood. the pathway strewn with dead branches and small pebbles that dig into the soles of my bare feet as i walk. i know i should stop, but i don't know what will happen if i do. i do not believe in an afterlife, so do not think i am repentant about anything ive done in my life. i have done the best i could and i know that it was not good enough. my mind continues to rage like a stromy sea crashing against the rocks and all i ask again for is peace. a calm in which to exist for myself. i do not go to sleep peaceful, but i often wake up peacefully. it makes me smile and puts me on guard. for then the smile is gone as what is inside me realises it's mistake allowing me this respite. i feel the air around me thicken and oftentimes no amount of distraction will suffice. evn those times when i successfully amuse myself, the relief lasts only as long as the amusement and then the dark descends and i am back deep within that wood.

catefrances

did you never think she would find out? was that your perfect plan? nothing's perfect you know that and now she knows that you are from from it. how many times did she tell you lying was her only unforgiveable sin? she thought she only had to tell you once. looks like she needn't have bothered. you weren't lsitening. no on ever does. they just assume that she says it only for affect. well she doesn't. she never says anything she doesn't mean. unless she gets momentarily flustered and then as soon as she regains her composure she sets it right. she wnated to give you the benefit of the doubt, but she gave you too much. or you took too much. yeah, that's probably it. she watched you as you left and closed the door behind you. she didn't look back and she always wondered why that was. now she thinks it was so the smile on her face wouldn't make you feel guilty for what you were about to do. you knew it would crush her and yet you still chose to do what you did. imagine her shock and devastation when the fruits of your labour knocked on the front door that night. typically you were nowhere to be found. but you were certainly found out. for hours she and the other spoke of you. almost touching knee to kneee across a worn rug you ahd pilfered from someone's rubbish. she remembers when you presented it to her with all the flourish of a magic carpet dealer. she was delighted with the gesture. and you were thrilled because of her delight. that night she found out twas not the only gift you gave with such ceremony. just an innocent remark and everything she thought she knew collapsed like a house of cards. one careless hand placed where it did not belong and her life was over. how could she have been so foolish to believe the words that came from your mouth. she loved you. that was how. she trusted you. that most difficult of all gifts to give and you betrayed her without a second thought. she couldn't even ask how long it had been going on. and to her it did not matter. she saw cracks. she'd be lying of she said she hadn't. but she just put them down to people being people and not being infalliable. she ignored so much though knew you weren't perfect. and she knew she wasn't. but perfect wasn't what she wanted. perfect was boring. now she didn't know what she wanted anymore. what this other had, she could never have. is that why you did what you did? were you too gutless to come straight out and tell her? so you figured you could have your cake and eat it too. was that what you were hoping? well now you know better don't you. not exactly the malleable sweet country girl you thought she was is she? and right now she was totally unforgiving.

catefrances

did you never think she would find out? was that your perfect plan? nothing's perfect you know that and now she knows that you are from from it. how many times did she tell you lying was her only unforgiveable sin? she thought she only had to tell you once. looks like she needn't have bothered. you weren't listening. no one ever does. they just assume that she says it only for affect. well she doesn't. she never says anything she doesn't mean. unless she gets momentarily flustered and then as soon as she regains her composure she sets it right. she wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, but she gave you too much. or you took too much. yeah, that's probably it. she watched you as you left and closed the door behind you. you didn't look back and she always wondered why that was. now she thinks it was so the smile on her face wouldn't make you feel guilty for what you were about to do. you knew it would crush her and yet you still chose to do what you did. imagine her shock and devastation when the fruits of your labour knocked on the front door that night. typically you were nowhere to be found. but you were certainly found out. for hours she and the other spoke of you. almost touching knee to knee across a worn rug you had pilfered from someone's rubbish. she remembers when you presented it to her with all the flourish of a magic carpet dealer. she was delighted with the gesture. and you were thrilled because of her delight. that night she found out twas not the only gift you gave with such ceremony. just an innocent remark and everything she thought she knew collapsed like a house of cards. one careless hand placed where it did not belong and her life was over. how could she have been so foolish to believe the words that came from your mouth. she loved you. that was how. she trusted you. that most difficult of all gifts to give and you betrayed her without a second thought. she couldn't even ask how long it had been going on. and to her it did not matter. she saw cracks. she'd be lying if she said she hadn't. but she just put them down to people being people and not being infalliable. she ignored so much though knew you weren't perfect. and she knew she wasn't. but perfect wasn't what she wanted. perfect was boring. now she didn't know what she wanted anymore. what this other had, she could never have. is that why you did what you did? were you too gutless to come straight out and tell her? so you figured you could have your cake and eat it too. was that what you were hoping? well now you know better don't you. not exactly the malleable sweet country girl you thought she was is she? and right now she is totally unforgiving.

catefrances

she sits in the backyard. the darkness enveloping her. the smell of jasmine fills the air. she listens to the singing bugs and lets her mind drift. she remembers the last time they spoke and how her confrontational tone alienated him. he shut her out. and she realised how foolhardy she had been. patience was never her strong suit and she knew her time was running out. every passing day guided her further away from him and closer to an end. breathing wasn't getting it done anymore, so she turned to other things. of course they weren't getting her what she needed either. she didn't really expect them to but she did them anyways. she thought about him too often. she realises that. without him telling her why, she will never understand. and so she resigns herself to the fact that she may never know. she lifts the glass to her mouth, allowing the wine to just slide down her throat. the waning moon hangs high in the sky and she knows more than anything else its presence is what soothes her, if only momentarily. and that is all her calm only ever is these days - momentary.

catefrances

she starts to write a note then stops. she asks herself what would be the point? they will never understand. she burns the words she does not want them to read. black ashes in the laundry tub. she makes her bed and stacks her library books in a neat pile on top of the covers. someone will need to return them. she pours herself some wine and steadily drinks it down. she will need all the help she can get this time. she pours another glass and carries it with her into the bathroom. the bath slowly fills. towels folded on a chair. candles lit. shadows dance across the walls. she retrieves the bottle from the kitchen and sits on the floor within easy reach. she gathers the rest of what she needs. she stole the pills from a friend. a debt she can never repay. she sinks into the water, alying her head back against the porcelain and closes her eyes. she will give herself no more chances. the constant ebb and flow that she feels must stop. she needs it to stop. beneath the surface as the red blooms she feels the calm envelope her. she smiles to herself knowingly. every cut releases her from the vice that ehr life has become. she slowly convinces her body the poison she allows into herself is good for it. she does not want it to wake up to what she is doing and disagree with her. so she paces herself. she has all night. and there is no place she needs to be.

catefrances

he watches her as she crosses the yard. he takes in her full length and loves how her hips sway as she moves. someone says something as she passes them and she throws her head back and laughs. he is mesmerised by her. she reaches her target and leaning to kiss his cheek she casually rests her hand on the man's hip. as they talk he watches and notices her hand on the small of the man's back. he thinks. the thoughts he has can not be right. he must be mistaken. she wouldn't do that. the man wouldn't do that. this is his lover and his best friend he is thinking about. the level of disrespect required is too great for him to contemplate. but still he sees she has not removed her hand from its resting place. the man leans in close and says something in her ear. she looks up at the man and then back across towards the house to where he is standing. it is only then that she removes her hand. she smiles and waves, acknowledging his presence. she says something to the man who nods. as she walks back towards him he wonders. he knows something is going on with her. but he doesn't want it to be what is going through his head. he brushes the thoughts aside as she kisses him.

catefrances

she hates herself when she thinks of him. it eats away at her insides. these thoughts don't occupy her mind all the time. just every now again when her mind drifts. she tries to concentrate on the time traveller's wife but he sneaks in there and confuses her. it's not confusion from ambiguous signals. just confusion that the thoughts won't disappear completely. she wants to be rid of him altogether. why won't it all go away. he's made it clear by his absence he wants nothing to do with her. he said it was bad timing. she called bullshit on that. he said they could be friends and yet... where is he? it would seem how he defines friends is different from how she defines friends. he, it would seem to her, wants to be able to deal with her civilly if that opportuntiy ever arises. she suspects he just said it to placate her. to get her to step back or even go away. she chides herself for this adolescent craving. she should know better. but she doesn't. she was trying to fill a void. when he appeared it looked at if she was getting ehr chance. but she was gravely mistaken. everytime she tries to fill her cup it all leaks out the crack in the bottom. sometimes when she looks in the bathroom mirror, she can see the hardness. and it does not surprise her that she is so often alone. but then in those brief moments when she is buoyant she thinks fuck 'em all, if they can't see, then that's their problem. but it becomes her problem and her whole life becomes about finding reasons to stay. the best revenge is to live? who said that? she rolls her eyes when she thinks of that and quietly to herself says fuck it.

catefrances

she did it. this time she did it. she'd walked away without a backward glance. without a second thought. she wanted to see how far he'd go. it started off as well as she could have expected. so she upped the ante already knowing how he'd react. he called her on her bullshit. forced her to make a choice. so she did. finally a silence she can handle. silence is indeed golden. at least in this case.

catefrances

it has been 7 weeks. she touches her fingers to the scars and wills them to heal. some mornings she wakes up and they scream at her. other times they just look like lifelines. she feels like a fool for what she did. like always, it seemed like a good idea at the time. a way to exorcise the demons and still remain. it's not as if she is trying to end it all. she's just trying to cope with things she doesn't fully understand. to keep some control of her life. she wants to show him. she wants him to feel what she feels. but she can't. she knows he doesn't understand. he told her so. she wants him to tell her that it is okay to do what she does. she doubts he ever will. she wonders if she asked, would he do it for her. would he be the one to hold her hand in his and release the poison.

catefrances

she watches him approach and knows that she should turn away. she smiles lazily but still does not turn her back. the music in her heart quickens and she wonders what in his mind. does he think this is a good idea? does he think this time will somehow be different? is this part of the game, knowing he can't resist, knowing it is not the best thing to do, but somehow still choosing to do it? she breathes deeply and closes her eyes momentarily. when she opens them he is still there. she knows if he comes closer she'll have to be the one to go. he knows she can't. she knows he knows this. she would hand it all to him if only he said the word. the rules she chooses to ignore are the same ones he tries to abide by, but can't. he reaches out and touches his hand to her skin and in that one instant she is gone and she won't ever let him go again.

catefrances

she's having one of those moments. she lies on the bed staring up at the ceiling. she can see her arm raised and in her hand she holds a blade. bringing it down she makes a mark. one single fluid line from her throat to her belly button. it blooms red and she watches, fascinated that she could do this to herself. she smiles. she closes her eyes and wills herself away.

catefrances

sometimes i don’t dream when i sleep. and i never have nightmares. i love the earthy smell in the air just before it rains. i love when thunder rumbles low enough for me to feel it deep in my belly. last time i went to the movies, tears streamed down my face. and i ate a packet of maltesers. when i walk out my front door i think that maybe i could just keep going. we had a thunderstorm last night but now the sun is out. my parents complain that they never hear from me. i tell them that if i die the authorities will inform them. my wardrobe is made up of red, black, grey and white. and two blue tshirts: one a cardinals tour tshirt, the other a mess hall band shirt. i hate shoes. there are too many books in the world that i know i wont get to read. if i had to pick one food to live on, it would be falafels. i like camellias, red roses and things made of stone and wood. the next movie i see will be the same as the last movie i saw. one day i want to go to sleep and not wake up again. yes, i admit it, i have a fascination with the bold and the beautiful. if i could return from the dead it would be as a vampire. men in kilts. i have a thing for maps. and globes. and the moon. i like black and white photography. one day i’d like to live in morocco for six months.

catefrances

talk
to
me
god dammit!

chadwick

catefrances wrote:

sometimes i don’t dream when i sleep. and i never have nightmares. i love the earthy smell in the air just before it rains. i love when thunder rumbles low enough for me to feel it deep in my belly. last time i went to the movies, tears streamed down my face. and i ate a packet of maltesers. when i walk out my front door i think that maybe i could just keep going. we had a thunderstorm last night but now the sun is out. my parents complain that they never hear from me. i tell them that if i die the authorities will inform them. my wardrobe is made up of red, black, grey and white. and two blue tshirts: one a cardinals tour tshirt, the other a mess hall band shirt. i hate shoes. there are too many books in the world that i know i wont get to read. if i had to pick one food to live on, it would be falafels. i like camellias, red roses and things made of stone and wood. the next movie i see will be the same as the last movie i saw. one day i want to go to sleep and not wake up again. yes, i admit it, i have a fascination with the bold and the beautiful. if i could return from the dead it would be as a vampire. men in kilts. i have a thing for maps. and globes. and the moon. i like black and white photography. one day i’d like to live in morocco for six months.

nicely done.


one-day i wanna live.
one-day i wanna be alive.
one-day when no-one is looking I wanna look.
one-day while I am buying a new pair of pants, maybe I won't.
one-day at an art show when I am texting a lady friend I'd like for her to meet me @ our favorite chinese food restaurant.
one-day when I am climbing a tree perhaps I become a leaf.
one-day i'll sail all the sea with a barbaric horde.
one-day i'll become a kite for the innocent.
one-day when all else is, maybe i'll be.

catefrances

she wanders aimlessly through a life she doesnt want. a life, that given the chance, she would end without remorse. her head gets fuzzy sometimes and it makes those moments of clarity all the more sharp. she thinks of him and his absence. she wonders if he knows she still thinks of him. she wonders if he knows, that despite her harsh words, she would never deny him. she tries to hate him. she thought it'd be easier to forget him. but she can't. she can't hate him and she cant forget him. he appeared recently and she slapped him down. it was too soon. she still ached for him but she did her best to stay strong. she couldnt have him the way she wanted and he wouldn't be anything but everything to her. he couldnt be just her friend he told her. so he walked away. twas his decision to leave, as it always was when he felt things closing in on him. she can do nothing but watch him walk away. she remembers something bob dylan said once - you can't be wise and in love. she liked that when she heard it. to her it was so true. she saw it time and time again. and she'd long since stopped rationalising emotions and feelings. she always just threw herself off that edge and dealt with whatever came her way in whatever way she could. and now that is what she is doing. one foot in front of the other. one breath at a time. and the ability to express herself in the written word. this is what will get her through. this is what she hopes will save her.

catefrances

turns out she was wrong. turns out they had all left her. she stood alone. her black hair fell straight down her back. her eyes downcast. her heart so very heavy. she was so desperate for his touch. but she was alone. she felt she would always be alone. it was quite possibly the biggest irony of her life. a misanthrope who desire someone. not just anyone... there was someone she had in mind. someone who had been in her mind for quite a time now. she never knew what to do when it came to him. he shook her like no man ever had... well no man since she was young anyway. she confesses that she used others to try and forget him. it never worked. decisions she made were made with him in mind. she was always conscious of his presence in her heart... in her mind and in her soul. it did her no good of course but that didnt mean she could forget him. didnt mean she ever wanted to. she didnt. . all she knew was he was the one... and she was sure of it.

catefrances

woke up this morning and realised that not once did he ever take a step towards me. took me a while to come to terms with this. and now i have to come to terms with what a waste of my energy, strength and time it all was. why become involved with someone when you know tis not going to lead anywhere at all. why allow them to hope when tis clear to you that they are wasting their time in doing so. i know what an ego trip it must be to have such attention but tis not really manners now is it? the more valorious thing would have been to allow the other person their freedom by disclosing your shortcomings and misgivings when you started to have them, dont you think? so strong she was for you and you took it all and gave nothing back. when she needed you you just walked away telling her you didnt want to hear. but by then it was too late. way too late. she was totally gone never even contemplating a future without you in it. eventually you told her you couldnt give her what she wanted. but now she watches as you give it to someone else. so easily. she hates you for it and yet she doesnt wish you ill. even though she loves you and misses having you in her life, she still hates that you lacked the strength she needed so much to be returned.