Hope I tend to see my faults in myself more and more these days. I don't know what has caused it, but my eye for fault has become keen in searching for error. In myself and in others. And it doesn't make me sad. It doesn't cause me to loathe myself that little bit more every waking moment. It just makes me angry. It makes every breath I take ragged and shake. It takes my sleep from me and I toss and turn. I become violent and I hate. Does it make me a perfectionist? Ironic when I am so far from perfection myself. But we're human, and everyone fucks up. So why do these ones fuel the turmoil in my gut that makes me spit and stutter? Why am I so tired? I just don't want to be angry at the people I love anymore. I don't want to be scared that I'll hate people who mean the world to me. I don't mean it. I know I don't. I hope I don't.

What's Wrong With it? Crinkled and worn out, another garment of clothing graces the floor with a large thump. Oops. Must have left my phone in the pocket. I fish it out and start tap, tap, tapping away in reply to a friend. When my full message is complete and sent away, I survey the room. Piles of clothes scattered across the floor, ripped, torn-up jotters thrown everywhere, cups and empty plates on every surface area, delicately balanced on top of a pile of books. My room is a disaster area. It's near impossible to see the pine floor anymore, aside from the path leading from my bed to the door at my mothers request, well, no exactly her request. She'd much rather prefer to see all the floor and not have to buy a 6th copy of 'The Cat Returns'. I have no idea what she was doing in the dvd corner anyway. Probably snooping about again. Sigh. Aslong as she doesn't touch my Kingdom Hearts figures, I've got Roxas and Axel in just the right position. One nudge. BOOM. Detachable hands everywhere. I have lost track of where Sora ran off to after he fell off the side of my desk. Blue tak is not as strong as I thought it seems. But I diverse. My room is 'a tip' or 'the black hole of Culcuta' as some say. But they need to understand, this is organised chaos. When I need some thing, it's on the floor. If it's valueable, it's in a pile. If it's my laptop, it's in bed with all my pencils and papers and other various assortments. I know where things are and I know how to navigate this. It's my room and no-one else needs to venture in here. So, GET THE FUCK OUT MY ROOM WOMAN! I AM TRYING TO REEEAD!... Oh and can we have pizza tonight? Thanks Mum <3

How Pleasant Sitting in my room, my blanket covering me like shield from the outside world. I sunk deeper into my mind. Every league of my mind filled with joy and happiness. Stress and worry just seemed to float away until I was drowned in the sweet abyss of solitude. The pains of previous headaches and the bruises of past injuries slipped out and off of my skin like running water. The purples and red of pain and anguish pooled around my feet. I felt the top of my head open up and a warm, silvery, heavenly liquid pour down into my hollowed out body. It filled every little space between my toes and into my finger tips until I was over flowing with this liquid happiness. I continued to walk through to an opening of clear blue water in which you could see all the way to the bottom and every little creature in it. In the centre was a large flat piece if grassy land with a single house in the middle. I dived deep into the cool water, shivering at the clash of tempertures from the water and liquid happiness within me. I kick myself forward not worried about the need for air when so deep in my imagination. The colours of the aquatic #life were breath taking. The vibrant yellows of the sand, the deep greens and pale pinks of the coral and mutlicoloured families that hurriedly swam out of the way. I finally had arrived at the centre island and I stepped out of the chilled water onto the warmed land. I made my way through the barren halls of the house into a large brightly lit bathroom. I turned on the scolding water and rubbed my hair free of the worries of the day. Words falling from my scalp and down the drain. 'Fear' came out of my fringe. 'Vanity' from behind my ears. I felt the word 'unworthy' crawl downwards from my neck, sliding down my back. Finally removing the large clump of 'outcast' from the depth of my hair. I stepped out the shower and into a large dark room with one skylight and a King-size bed. I snuck under the dark covers and set the alarm to the specific time I wanted and closed my eyes. At this point I was slowly drifting off to sleep with the sound of waves lapping onto a beach coming out of an old run down CD player in the corner of my room. When the waves stopped splashing, a single voice was heard at 1 in the morning. "Thank you for listening. Have pleasant dreams and a pleasant tomorrow."

Ignorance The wind blew through the rusting leaves on the trees and the charcoal clouds blew along in tow. The streets were a barren wasteland that filled with wrecked cars and mangled bodies with every passing day. All day and night gunshots rang out, followed by an odd explosion or two. The justice system was dead and everyone fought for their own survival. All past morals had been abandoned. The point of #life was to live by any means necessary. One man shuffled through the streets, gently kicking bullet-shells as he walk. He wored all black and covered his face with blue paint and layers of dust. He was a shadow of humanity. He went by his business everyday; out to the store, pick up the same paper, leave the money on the counter as he walked away. He did this until the shop ran out of papers, and then returned them, taking back the money. He walked through the streets everyday with the same smile on his face everyday, but as time passed his eyes began to hollow, until all that was left was an empty smile of a demented man in a lost civillisation. His black self zig-zaged through the growing piles of death often looking to smile at each one as he did. His old croaky voice often made an appearance. "Morning, Miss Ablehouse." Suicide. "Fine day today, is not, Mister Roberts?" Gangs. "Keeping trouble off the streets as usual, Constable Armstrong?" Shootout. He lived in a world of his own. But, in a society like this, ignorance truely is bliss.

Rocky Road The End They had veen walking for several days now and the air was thick with grey mist that prevented then from seeing even 5ft infront of themselves. The evening was silent as they trekked along the old forgotten road. Their feet sunk deep into mudy puddles and their faces were from the cold. They were covered in layer upon layer of mud and thick clothing in a desperate attempt to stay warm. Even so, they still dragged their swollen ankles forward determind to find their destination. After what seemed like hours of walking, the terrain gradually morphed from the marshy, minefield of deep puddles to a rough, heartless gravel. Their feet hurt with every step they took. The ground started to climb upwards and gravity started to push down hard. They clung to the rocks as they crawled, slowly, up the face of the rock. Their hands, blistered and sliced, grasped the ledge for dear #life and they hauled themselves upwards one last time. Pulling out grass in clumps trying to get a grip they swung their legs over the ledge and continued down the rocky trail. The orange sky faded to a dip midnight blue on the horizon of the vast land they just conquered, but still they trudged on. The light of the#moonguiding them to the end.