Comments Posted By Chrissie

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the noise in my mind
is too great.

i need some time alone.

i need to sort through the mess
of my thoughts
and to find those which are
true to myself
and not an imitation
of another.

» Posted By Chrissie On 07.14.2016 @ 11:21 pm


you were a quiet creature;
and it was a surprise to find
that the silence of your absence
was so loud.

each morning i can hear
that you are missing from my
morning routine.

i didn’t know that
loss had a sound.

» Posted By Chrissie On 07.14.2016 @ 12:55 am

you were such a quiet creature;
it was such a surprise to find
that the silence that you left
was so loud.

each morning i hear
the absence of you in my
morning routine.

i didn’t know that
pain had a sound.

» Posted By Chrissie On 07.14.2016 @ 12:53 am



is the beginning
of kindness.

» Posted By Chrissie On 05.06.2015 @ 7:51 pm



What if coincidences
and twists of fate
were nothing more
than an employee
completing his tasks
for the day.

Is a planter a career?
A person who
moves your coffee to the right
so it spills on the floor
and the woman who
will capture your heart
hands you a napkin?

Was it a planter
who made you mistake
a chime for you phone
and you paused for a second
and was standing
waiting for him?

Do things of happenstance
just happen?
Or are there several
very successful planters

» Posted By Chrissie On 05.05.2015 @ 10:51 pm



she had carefully
mapped out her life,
she had created a stencil
of her future
that others had concurred was
successful; something that she
could be proud of.

yet, try as she might
she couldn’t help but
colour outside the lines.

» Posted By Chrissie On 05.05.2015 @ 5:01 am



If there were a salesman
who were to call me during dinnertime
with the crackle of an overseas phone line
echoing in his call
and promise to sell me a new beginning
like a ‘start again’ in a video game
where I can live my life again
but this time with hindsight and wisdom
then I would say yes to this man
and listen to his sales pitch
and I wouldn’t even question the price
nor hang up in his ear.

Because I have become desperate
and desperate people
sometimes do
silly things.

» Posted By Chrissie On 02.07.2013 @ 8:35 pm



I feel as though I should come with a disclaimer; “I have made stupid mistakes, so many stupid mistakes. I find beauty in self destruction and sometimes I like to be sad for no reason at all. I promise you, though, I’ll try my best to be worth it”.

» Posted By Chrissie On 01.09.2013 @ 3:15 am



In the time that it takes to say “the moment to act is now,” the ‘moment’ has passed. Yet we question why nothing ever gets done.

» Posted By Chrissie On 12.26.2012 @ 9:22 pm



Five minutes
was all it took
for you to learn
my name
and I

Five minutes
was all it took
love story.

» Posted By Chrissie On 12.18.2012 @ 4:16 am



We struggle to meet the due dates of those that we deem “important”, so much so that we don’t notice the passing due dates of those which are important.

Bills get paid, reports are written, assessments are produced. Yet phone calls become long overdue, dinners, kisses, cuddles, simply saying goodbye as you rush out of the door becomes over due.

Despite this, we still consider ourselves a success.

» Posted By Chrissie On 12.16.2012 @ 3:52 pm



He was determined to make her realise just how much she meant to him. To make her understand that his world was her and that without her, his world would hardly be worth living in.

It was difficult, however, when she was just as determined to believe otherwise.

» Posted By Chrissie On 12.12.2012 @ 5:35 pm



The pain was localized, it was contained only in her heart. The remainder of herself was numb.

» Posted By Chrissie On 11.26.2012 @ 8:03 pm



“Chelsea,” her grandfather said as he wheezed his last breaths. “When measuring your life, you first need to decide if the cup is half full or half empty.”

» Posted By Chrissie On 11.15.2012 @ 2:09 am



It interests me to find
that upon viewing another’s life,
I can immediately pick the discrepancies
in happiness,
the cause of the discrepancies,
and the cure.

It interests me to find
that upon viewing my own life,
I cannot do this.
Not at all.

» Posted By Chrissie On 11.04.2012 @ 4:20 am



They say to take slow steps when you are falling in love. To move slowly, to take your time, to protect yourself.
They didn’t mention how difficult it was to move slowly when you are falling fast.

» Posted By Chrissie On 11.02.2012 @ 4:23 am



The entrance to the building was bland, a simple wooden door-frame with a set of wooden doors which creaked slightly. A carved pattern, which was neither artistic nor attractive, served as a poor excuse for decoration. The door handles were once a shiny gold, but had now faded to a murky copper colour.
Alexa thought the doors beautiful, not in their appearance, but in that, by walking through these doors, she would soon be her fiancé’s wife.

» Posted By Chrissie On 10.17.2012 @ 7:22 pm



How lovely it would be, she thought to herself with a sigh, to have something take her breath away that wasn’t pain.

» Posted By Chrissie On 09.28.2012 @ 4:55 am



Apathetic is a pathetic way to be, but I can’t fathom the energy to care. I need something to care about, something to help me find reason.
I just don’t know what.

» Posted By Chrissie On 09.27.2012 @ 4:23 am



They say life’s too short to be afraid, but sometimes the risk is too big to take.

» Posted By Chrissie On 09.24.2012 @ 3:13 am


They say life’s too short to be afraid, but sometimes the risk is to big to take.

» Posted By Chrissie On 09.23.2012 @ 7:05 pm



People change,
People leave,
People stay,
People achieve.

People love,
People hurt,
People smile,
And give life worth.

» Posted By Chrissie On 09.22.2012 @ 11:12 pm



The boy sat at his trial, dressed simply in skinny jeans and a paint-stained t-shirt, his finger tips calloused from the friction of guitar strings.
“Son, I am disappointed in you,” his father said, while his mother wept silently alongside. “We pay for your education, we raise you as a man, and you repay us with this? A boy’s foolish dream? What do you have to say for yourself?”
The boy shook his head, there was nothing left to say. He was destined to live in this world as a dreamer, rather than a citizen, a fate which could not be explained.

» Posted By Chrissie On 09.21.2012 @ 10:14 pm



“Once upon a time”,
That’s how the stories begin.
Even though no story ever really has,
A beginning or an end.

» Posted By Chrissie On 09.20.2012 @ 4:36 pm



Claim your life,
Claim your dignity,
Claim your belongings,
Claim your space,
Claim your identity,
Claim your style.
But do not ever,
Claim to know me.

» Posted By Chrissie On 09.19.2012 @ 6:16 pm



The constant buzzing, initially daunting, was now as comforting as a favourite song. The boy watched as the tattoo artist injected the ink into his skin, the remaining unblemished skin of his forearm becoming a mosaic of colour.
It was not an ‘addiction’, that kept him coming back for more tattoos, rather it was the pain. For a boy who had become numb to everything, it was the prick of a needle, injecting ink into his skin, that let him know that he was still, somewhat, alive.

» Posted By Chrissie On 09.16.2012 @ 5:52 pm



She knew that it was all her own fault. You can’t possibly expect to be able to completely disappear, then reappear and have everything as it was.
However, she was not expecting this blindness, unable to see or discern what was happening around her, having missed approximately six months of everyone’s lives.

» Posted By Chrissie On 09.16.2012 @ 1:00 am



The girl rubbed aloe vera cream over her raw, blistered skin, the cooling sensation of the cream quickly lost in the burning fire of her skin. Sighing, the girl surveyed her ruby complexion in the mirror. It was one of the perils of pale skin, the girl mused, always being fried whenever you step into the sunlight.

» Posted By Chrissie On 09.14.2012 @ 4:45 pm



Gasp. Gasp. Gasp. The boy tried to slow his breathing, wildly hoping she wouldn’t notice his discomfort.
Gasp.. Gasp.. Gasp..
Gradually, his gasps became breaths. The girl, as pretty as a rainbow, and sometimes appearing just as mystical, turned her eyes to him with a slow smile.
Gasp. Gasp. Gasp.
The boy again tried to slow his breathing, frustrated with himself. How was he ever meant to make this girl realise how much she meant to him if, every time he made eye contact, his breathing became so hard it was as though he was suffering from asthma?

» Posted By Chrissie On 09.13.2012 @ 4:46 pm



They fought all of the time, there was only ever just enough money for the bills and they were living in his mate’s garage.
They sang Broadway tunes as they got ready in the morning, picked strawberries and apples from the backyard for picnics, and decorated the garage with their favourite quotes.
Their love was dysfunctional, but it was real.

» Posted By Chrissie On 09.12.2012 @ 5:19 pm

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