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Ben. 22. Australia.
Studying media at University.
I really don't want to be here, I want to be back, traveling the world.
I've been to Europe and done a semester of College abroad in the U.S.A and you'll often find me pining for those times.
Working hard at the end of the semester, will put up some random photos soon yeah, my road trip across America starts in 2 fucking days, so excited, yet sad.
Saying goodbye to some of the best people I have ever met will be a killer.
Fuck off laptop, stop being interesting I HAVE TO SLEEP.
Well, better go and try to anyway. Every night is like christmas eve as a kid for me at the moment. I just lay here thinking about how awesome my trip is going to be, the next two weeks will be the slowest in history.
Night.
So, my best friend came to say goodbye and finialise some stuff before he leaves to start his uni exchange in Canada. We will stay at each-others campus’ while we are over there and follow this road trip across America in a car we will buy.
We also decided that we will probably do another session of uni somewhere in North America, travel back to NYC and spend NYE 2012 there and come home. (This is a massive secret though don’t tell anyone!) Which means we will probably be away from home for 12 months.
His last words after leaving ‘see you on the other side of the ocean’.
Can’t wait.
That SO often, even without thinking about it I’ll use the word ‘Gay’ as a synonym to describe something undesirable or negative.
Training myself to stop, it’s a horrible habit and I hate that I’ve learnt it.
Maybe I’ll start slapping myself each time I say it, I can progress to greater punishments from there.
Of all the time we had, to be anything at all, something is happening now. When I’m moving home, then going to America. Fuck sake.
Stuck thinking about how easy it is to be killed on two wheels.
Maybe it’s a good thing I’m planning on selling my motorbike to help fund my exchange.
R.I.P Simoncelli.
You catch a glimpse of them, like it was nothing.
But, it was something, now that you think about it. You look again.
You see them looking back, smiling. It’s welcoming.
Conversation flows, as if this moment has the same depth as a an eternity.
Even after they’re gone they remain. You dissect the moment.
This person is different, special, unique. Not like the others.
You long to have more moments, talking to anyone else has lost its appeal.
You spend more moments, you fall.
They catch you. You’re happy. Life is like it never was before, or will be again.
You give everything. No more defenses.
They have your heart.
They lose it.
You are not different, special, unique. They have decided.
You’ve fallen, they’re falling.
Away.
Out of your life.
As if, the person who was once everything, no longer exists.
The past becomes a distant thought, a dream you struggle to remember in the morning.
Your chest is the heaviest object in existence.
Nobody is anyone, everybody is no-one.
You will never find someone again.
You catch a glimpse of them, like it was nothing.
But, it was something, now that you think about it. You look again.
Love.
