i have taken in total one hundred and fifty seven polaroids. i have ten of them hanging in my living room. i have a birdcage on my bookcase and three picnic hampers and one little suitcase on top.
there are four secret journals hidden in with my books which there are four shelves full.
little miss tiddlewinkle masks (and a bear one) and rhubarb scented candles.
i have such lovely things but i am so desperate for an old record player. I would play alison krauss and old country music. cold mountain and o'brother where art thou records.
my love sometimes watches films with shooting and blood, but i can't watch. Sometimes when i do, the images wont leave my head for days. it makes me sad and i can never shake off that feeling. my heart goes out to the people even though i know they are just actors. somehow to me, they seem real. everything seems real. i forget that it is just all silly fiction sometimes. i like to believe everything. believe everything people say. pap said once that i shouldnt be too trusting. people take advantage and steal your soul.

a few days ago, my kitchen dresser fell on me. all my teacups and teapots were smashed and i have a poorly foot. i think my heart has finally started beating again. it was terrifying.