Scandalous families.

Some people,

Some people may not be your 'type' or even attractive to you, and yet there is something about them you can't figure out that draws you close, that automatically gains your trust, even your love.
Razor (a moniker for writing purposes) is unfathomable. For one I'm inexplicably trusting to him and like him, and also I can never figure facial expressions. Yes, he smiles and thats about it. He is brilliant at being expressionless, looking at you and it could mean anything. And I mean 'anything'
I dislike not being to understand people :)
Anyone who understands me, and sees right through me, I like.
Anyone who hasn't a clue, amuses me.
Anyone who likes me either way, I like.

Love is a knife..

It cuts deep into the flesh, and you get lost in the feeling. When the knife is lifted, it leaves a line. It heals, it always heals, some cuts just take longer to do so, yet you'll still see the mark it leaves behind, hidden partially under your skin. It doesn't fade, you're just not looking hard enough. Difference with love and a knife? Not much. One gives pleasure aswell as pain.

I might aswell admit, I'm addicted to love.
Sometimes I think, yeah I'm happy :)
But there is always love drawing me ever closer, the benefits of love always weigh out being alone, or hating. Regardless of hurt it may bring, just wear your heart on your sleeve.

Doesnt matter if you stand up for people when they're alone, it doesnt make them care.
Even if you prove yourself right, it can't give you what you crave.

Though I wouldn't say it to them, for fear of rejection. I love now as dark things are too be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul. A saved space. Cause I never stop believing in people.

But loving purely is worth it, the rewards from loving everyone and everything is always good, in the end.

Facial expression.

Some people can talk to others with only their eyes, it's either really funny to watch, or quite worrying. You may think their eyesbrows are having a spasm.
Everyone always seems to mistake my facial expressions -.-
Some people ask me if I'm okay, 'cause I look depressed. Gosh, THAT'S MY NORMAL FACE.
Some people say I look sadly at them, when actually I'm just thinking about something, deep in thought.
Other times people say I look at them like they're weird, or I'm disgusted by them - No. That's the face that means, 'You're so confusing, I wish I could figure you out. What do you mean?'
Am I the only one who gets this? x

I love you, but the vibe is wrong.

Doesn't it hurt when someone you love starts mass murdering? Must do.

Death :/

My brother died in a motorcycle, I wont go into details, because there isnt much to say, it was an accident, my brother was high, his friend was drunk. His friend was driving, but Nui died. The truck wasnt to blame.

Made me think - Wow, my brother has always been here for me, Nui was the one who held my hand, the one who kept me safe, and helped me. He's dead. It doesnt feel like it, but he's gone forever.

I cried, secretly. I didn't want my parents to think I cared. Especially not my father - He strongly disliked Nui.
Moi didnt seem too bothered by it..

I think the death that has most affected me in my life is my Granny,
I never knew her, I just inherited her name - Mary Leslie.
And yet I always felt I loved her. She was dying when I was born, so i was given her name, to make her happy.
And I'll be damned if I don't make her proud.
My Dad loved her I know, he never talks about love, but I know. When I was little and played with his marroon quilt pen, he would say 'Careful Mary, that was the last thing my mother gave to me before she died'
He told me stories about her.

When I was little, Mary. I had beautiful fine blonde hair, and we were very poor. A rich couple came up to my mother and asked if they could buy me, she refused. When they left, I said 'Why didn't you let them take me!?'  And she cuffed me round the ear.

He smiled, and his eyes were bluer than I'd seen before.

My mother grew up in the late victorian age. She worked for a rich family washing the dishes, and one day she dropped a dish and it broke. They fired her with no pay for the last season, and told her to be out before they came home from a dinner party.
When they came back, they found every plate and dish in the house smashed, and the best cutlery stolen.

He chuckled out loud at telling this.

When your half sisters were little, the twins had a play on at school. I couldn't see it because I had to be at work, so your Grandmother said she'd go and watch. I ordered a taxi to take her there and back, but after the play the taxi never arrived. So in her old age with arthritis, she started to walk home, a good mile away. Luckily some neighbours saw her and picked her up. When I got home she told me what happened, and I called the taxi company in ire. They said they hadn't picked her up because they had an airport run and didn't bother with local runs. I got no refund.
So the next day the manager came to work to find that some bastard had superglued the locks shut of all his saloon mercedes, and the lock to the office. He had to break the glass of the office door to open it, and apparently severed an artery. Then break every window of every car. He must have lost a lot of money that day, with no car to drive with.
What a lot of trouble for buying one tube of superglue.

You don't spite my family.

How very British.

My Father's always been a great influence to my life. He is amazing, my idol and that is that.
He taught me his lessons, and told his anecdotes. He taught me my sense of humour.
At home I'd sit at his feet while he read on the old leather sofa. I'd do jigsaws or draw, or listen to the classical, or jazz music he played me. Mummy would join us when she'd done working.
I loved the tale of peter and the wolf and I always felt sleepy when I listened to it, and often just dozed off on the floor.
In winter we turned on the fireplace and me and mummy would warm our hands and think how lovely and warm it was in Thailand.
My parents rarely told me they loved me, if I said it to my Mother she would say 'I love you too, Darling' But my Dad always grunted in response. I knew he loved me, he just didn't know how to say it.
If i tried to hug my Mum, shed bump me gently and tell me to not be silly.
My parents never played with me, aside from the chess games where Daddy taught me to play, and the occasional monopoly when both parents were in the mood for a game.
So I drew things, I played in the garden, but it was no fun on my own, so I sat in the trees and thought about things or sang to myself on the swings. I created fun ideas in my mind, I dreamt things and talked to myself. I pretended my soft toys were alive (my Father being a toxicologist, went away to lecture a lot and always brought back toys or chocolate) The animal form of soft toys was familiar to the farm, but I hated dolls. I was afraid of them, I didnt see girls much, or talk to them, so the natural instinct is to fear them.
If I ever had a bad dream, about a doll attacking me, in my dream, my animals came to my rescue.
When they let me out of the house, I got lost in the forest, but I wasn't lost, I was exploring, like I did in the jungles.
My mum was young, too young. And she wanted to go clubbing, and Daddy always said 'Don't go, you can't leave Mary, can't you see she needs you?' And I loved Daddy for telling her, because he was right, and I always said to her 'Don't go'. It turns out, I never said that, she said I never once told her not to, or she wouldn't have. But apparently I wanted her to be happy, so when she asked if she could go, I just nodded, I didn't want to be any trouble. So I amused myself in my room.
When I went to school I was quiet, England was cold, and I made friends mostly with the boys. They were familiar, I felt safe with them, like I was back with my brothers.
I never made friends with girls before BHS, an all girls school.
Girls there were better, I wasn't afraid of them. I'm still growing there..