This blog doesnt really have a purpose in all honesty. I'm not sure where to begin, on what note to end on and what topic to focus it on; so like life, I guess I'm winging it.

I keep having dreams, weird ones, sad ones and angry ones. My day dreams fall under the same catagories too, is that weird? I s'pose it is. One that comes regulary is me getting cancer. Just so you know, I'm not afraid of death or dying slowly. I often dream about it in a way that looks forward to 'The End', not in some sadistic or maschistic way, but as a new beginning-a kind of start, maybe even like a new book inside a multivolume thing like you get with the Jane Austen collections, with all the stories in one book? But anyway, I move to America (it pops up frequently for some reason) basically so that my family and friends dont have to see the woman I once was deteriorate and wither away into some kind of ghost. I dont want to cause sadness, I dont want to hurt them. But I'm a coward in the truth. I have so many real-life phobias that it is actually funny; monkeys, needles, organs in biology,sharks biting my leg off whilst im in the bath- everyday things y'know? But the mother of all of them? The queen bee? Saying Goodbye. -Shudders quite literally- Thats the part of the dreams that make me cry. The rest of it is just fate, destiny, the way its happened to me and thats okay. Saying the 'G' word, punishment for all past present and future sins. I think its fascintaing (she says while she stirs her latte in her SBs mug) why a person should have such an aversion to something so simple. To many people it gives closure, makes them feel like its okay to move on, I do too, don't get me wrong. Its perfect for the death bed scene when you're surrounded by your children, family and friends. the smell of roses bought from the corner shop just down the road faintly present in the room while you rub soothing circles onto your partner or childs hand. Then its perfect. Just like the termination of a relationship. thats good then too, as long as you're the one saying it. But anyway. The dreams. Im always haggard, trying to hide it with a bandana or head scarf, penciled in eyebrows, rouged lips and eyeliner. I'm going for the chic french look my aunt did so well when she was ill. I'm a hair dresser too, so this is how it typically goes.

chatting happily with a customer-someone i know walks in, usually a man. He starts flirting, im glad for the attention, he later asks for a favour -to kiss him- i say yeah, slightly confsued as to why he'd want to kiss my ugly mug. he thanks me. ''great, thank you, now i know what its like to kiss death.'' it feels like ive just been slapped round the face. it hurts. everywhere. all the the infected parts of my cancer riddled body start to psuh and kick against my skin, screaming. my skin crawl when i look at my reflection. shock on my face. everyone in the room diverts their eyes and carries on. Im stood there; alone. shamed. naked. bleeding and convulsing. i then go up to the guy and start attacking him. i grab his hair from behind and using the leverage, slam his face into the wall. kick him, punch him, step on him. hes not breathing and everyone stays focused on ignoring what ive just done. invisible. its black, like ive just stopped existing- erased.

It ends there. i dont quite understand whats going on with it. im not exactly a violent person. im healthy, tests have proved this. why would i beat up someone? sticks and stones may break my bones but names will never hurt me? Is this a sign of things to come because if so, i seriously hope not.

this was slightly darker then my other posts, sorry.

but really,

what the hell?

The Olympic Torch.