Louise Spence
16.365
She remains distantly obstinate, with a callous demeanour and a lawlessness that should imply danger, yet you allow yourself to be drawn under her spell. You've been caught here before, foolish girl, amid her shattered toys and broken promises. Why so silent? It's been twelve years and yet you still allow her self-destructive wake to consume you, to ruin you a little, time and time again. She shows you your imperfections in her actions and words, having reduced you to tears innumerable times. No one else can see her flaws; particularly the perennial chip on her shoulder that seems to have altered her DNA - until you met her, you never knew a human being could be so genuinely narcissistic. Realistically, she's not going anywhere, and you'll just continue in the same vicious circle. You'll just have to keep dreaming.
I feel ill :) By the time I finished work I felt awful, but I was like 'no! Must go take pixie-themed pictures in the woods for art!' so I trekked down with my tripod and over shoulder bag filled with glitter and shoes and allsorts, which doubled my backache almost instantly. None of the shots I imagined worked out, and the theme didn't really go too well - I didn't like any of them. With a little colour editing I don't hate this, but still. I gave up eventually and didn't want to trek further into the wood alone then scared myself silly as Tom's halloween decorations were still up so there were some swinging Blair Witch Project hanging thingmys and then I fell down my favourite decrepid stairway and everything hurt and I got angry and then it began to pour with rain so I sort of slammed everything back in my bag and sulked off home. I cheered up once I'd had a shower, but I still feel terrible. And I've got no work done at all. Ohhh dear.
London in six days!
16.365
She remains distantly obstinate, with a callous demeanour and a lawlessness that should imply danger, yet you allow yourself to be drawn under her spell. You've been caught here before, foolish girl, amid her shattered toys and broken promises. Why so silent? It's been twelve years and yet you still allow her self-destructive wake to consume you, to ruin you a little, time and time again. She shows you your imperfections in her actions and words, having reduced you to tears innumerable times. No one else can see her flaws; particularly the perennial chip on her shoulder that seems to have altered her DNA - until you met her, you never knew a human being could be so genuinely narcissistic. Realistically, she's not going anywhere, and you'll just continue in the same vicious circle. You'll just have to keep dreaming.
I feel ill :) By the time I finished work I felt awful, but I was like 'no! Must go take pixie-themed pictures in the woods for art!' so I trekked down with my tripod and over shoulder bag filled with glitter and shoes and allsorts, which doubled my backache almost instantly. None of the shots I imagined worked out, and the theme didn't really go too well - I didn't like any of them. With a little colour editing I don't hate this, but still. I gave up eventually and didn't want to trek further into the wood alone then scared myself silly as Tom's halloween decorations were still up so there were some swinging Blair Witch Project hanging thingmys and then I fell down my favourite decrepid stairway and everything hurt and I got angry and then it began to pour with rain so I sort of slammed everything back in my bag and sulked off home. I cheered up once I'd had a shower, but I still feel terrible. And I've got no work done at all. Ohhh dear.
London in six days!