ALERT

GUYSGUYSGUYSGUYSGUYSGUYSGUYSGUYS

My one and only has started a blog:

Just Another Teenage Dirtbag (:: Hello there (::

She claims she isn't going to write any more but I'm 

sure you'll agree that what's there now is fantabulous.

short story

I wrote this story a while ago for a school assignment, but I've tweaked it a bit since and here it is.

She bit her lip and clenched her teeth while a resolute tear slid down her cheek. She gripped the metal like it was the only thing she had left, her knuckles white with assiduousness. The shiny blade effortlessly sliced through the last plain of unscathed skin. Beads of crimson instantly welled up as a wave of relief swept through her. I wasn’t her, yet she was reflected in the bathroom mirror opposite me.  The heat from the tiles beneath me seemed to repulse from my feet, I was cold, I was always cold. A few moments of calm passed before my head started reeling again, I shouldn’t have done it. Matt’s fists penetrated my conscience, clamped together in frustration, restraint and torment upon finding out the first time. I didn’t mean to hurt him like this, that was the last thing I wanted, but here I stood, staining the ivory sink with my blood.  

It was only a day ago that I had been curled up safely in Matt’s arms, listening to the steady beating of his heart. The one thing that remained constant in my life. I giggled as his hands gently traced the contours of my back, my neck, my chin, my lips. I was happy. “You’re gonna be late,” he whispered teasingly. “Ssssshhhhh,” I groaned. We both knew he wasn’t letting go, and I wasn’t going anywhere. Being on time had shifted to the absolute bottom of my priorities list, as had everything else that didn’t concern him. He planted a wavering kiss on my cheek, wordlessly seeking my attention. I twisted around to meet his questioning gaze, his warm, earthy green eyes captivating me so that my mind went blank. In reply, I playfully touched my lips to his.  He wrapped his arms even tighter around me, drawing me into the warm comfort of his chest. A surge of pure ecstasy coursed through my veins, tingling the tips of my fingers and toes. I buried my face into his sweater, inhaling a blend of detergent and sweat; a mixture that reminded me of soft winter nights spent snuggling on the sofa.

A few blissful hours later, my fingers cast longingly round the double bed, but found it empty. Confused, my eyes fluttered open. He wasn’t there. The cool outdoor air drifted under the duvet, cementing my need to get out of bed. I swung my bare legs over the edge and grabbed one of his oversized grey shirts to cover my shivering body. I looked around at all the clothes strewn around on the stained wooden floor, but didn’t find what I was looking for. Quietly, I tiptoed down the stairs. The earsplitting sound of quiet reverberated around the house, the flagstones numbed my bare feet, but I didn’t care. I checked the living room first; maybe he’d woken up early and gone downstairs for some TV, in an attempt to avoid disturbing me? I consolidated myself with wistful excuses, protecting myself from what I already knew. A single, white square of paper rested on the kitchen counter, beside the still warm coffee machine. Ignoring it, I reached for a mug and poured myself some of the tepid brown liquid. After a few sips, I’d summed up enough courage to glance at the note.

Goodmorning beautiful,

I didn’t want to intrude. You looked so happy in the kingdom that is yours.

Also, this is easier for both of us.

x  Matt

The icy rain pelted my face as I walked back home, drowning out the bustle of life and leaving me with only my thoughts, or the lack thereof, for company. I stuffed my hands deep inside my pockets in an attempt to keep warm, but the wind tore right through the seams of my jacket. The emptiness carried me home in a sort of trance, oblivious to everything but the cold.

And here I stood.

I looked up at the ceiling- shapes jumped out at me, concealed in the brush-strokes of the unfortunate painter that had decorated the walls of my bathroom. At least he could paint, he had a talent, he had a purpose. And I was worthless. Thump. My forehead bashed the wall. No one needed me; I couldn’t even keep one person, not one. I was weak and useless, my world was crumbling around me. When everything you exist for is gone, there’s no reason to do anything, no reason to live. It hit me with the force of five hundred poisoned bullets. Why was I even still here?  Unwavering, I stopped crying and got up. The walls spun around me, tightening with every rotation, suffocating my freedom. Panicked, I screamed and screamed, my throat was raw. I had to get away from here.  I spun round, frantic, desperate for release. Anything to escape this pain, this terror in my head. The fog parted and a glimmer caught the corner of my eye. The windowsill. Suddenly calm, I focused on it. It took only two steps, two simple strides, to reach my answer. A leap of faith. That’s all it is. Air rushed past me and I embraced my impending demise.

Human behaviour is, to say the least, interesting. Even more interesting, is the hedgehog. Or the Hedgehog's Dilemma. The story goes as follows;

                                       
"A number of porcupines huddled together for warmth on a cold day in winter; but, as they began to prick one another with their quills, they were obliged to disperse. However the cold drove them together again, when just the same thing happened. At last, after many turns of huddling and dispersing, they discovered that they would be best off by remaining at a little distance from one another. In the same way the need of society drives the human porcupines together, only to be mutually repelled by the many prickly and disagreeable qualities of their nature." (Schopenhauer, Arthur) 

I think this explains so much.

balloon

I have dubbed myself with the honourable title of Idiot. Immense, incredible and impassioned Idiot.  

On the other hand, there are some pretty non-idiotic things out there. One of which being the rehabilitation program in Salinas Valley State Prison. I watched a really good documentary about it recently. 

perfectionism

I'm a chronic perfectionist. Which can mean two things-
one, the work I hand in is completed to the best of my abilities, or
two, the work I hand in is not in any state of physical existence.
Sadly, I tend to veer towards the latter of these symptoms.
I like to convince myself that there are others out there.

While we're on the topic of perfection, I gotta say, these have got to be one of the most intimate couple portraits I have ever seen. The combination of the industrial and the humane is, in my opinion, one of the most beautiful concepts out there. The young artists, Saiko Kanda and Mayuka Hayashi, summarised this sense perfectly;

"X-ray images usually show the finite nature of our bodies composed only of matter, but these couples portraits reveal a pulse that isn't normally seen."

X-Ray Portraits of Couples - Saiko Kanda and Mayuka Hayashi

the first one

Hello world! So this feels pretty strange because I'm talking to no one and everyone at the same time, but I guess that's part of the whole blogging thing. 

I'm Heleen, 17 years old and from everywhere and nowhere. Technically, I'm Dutch, but I'm one of those third-culture-expatriate kids, so it's rather complicated. I'll keep it short and refer you to this website. It sums me up pretty well. In case you're wondering, I've moved about 14 times in total, ranging between going from just town to town and continent to continent. I love travelling, adventure, reading, photography, nature and sports.

I decided to start this blog because I need a distraction from it all every once in a while, and I like writing so this is the perfect way to dump my mental garbage.

BUT it's probably going to be a while before I actually post anything because of life and such.

Oh and by the way, I'll usually put a little bit of information in bold at the end of my post, just because it's always nice to learn something new. They'll be pretty random and maybe a little strange, but that's just me. 

There's this really cool (French) artist/illustrator called Julien Pacaud, who makes very different collage-like artwork. His passion is time-travelling. Enough said. 

Artificial Cloud - Julien Pacaud