Orientation/Day.

Free stuff from The University of Auckland Orientation Week. Forgot to include jandals I got and a frisbee the lecturer threw at me but yeah haha. The photo is the stuff I got from the City Campus.

Still have one more orientation to go to at the Tamaki Campus where I will get my free t-shirt for Sport & Exercise Science. Can't wait!

Cherry/Blossom.

Any day now; Autumn. Just remember. She will come and attempt to claim the lives of all we know. Once tender leaves will fall from the trees as rust. And that rust will settle under my new shoes. It's the closest thing to closure.

In the month of February twenty-eight days will pass. Why only twenty-eight? Why take days from February and not December? I think back to my earlier years. I had a very special trait, though it was possessed by many children my age. That trait involved 'favourites'. Favourite colour and whatnot. And thinking back now brings a smile, not a force-applied frown.

My favourite colour has always been green. I feel a certain youthfulness in me now. Green has always been my favourite colour as it was the colour of leaves. I'm not sure if it was everyone who did this but as a child I would place a leaf under a piece of paper, pull out my apple-green pencil and lightly print it onto the paper - just like what you would do with a coin.

It was a truly magical.

It was like cheating on nature. I wouldn't fold this piece of paper. I would hold it delicately with two hands and walk home with it after school to show my Grandma.

"It looks just like a real leaf! Well done!" she would say.

We would be seated in the usual spot on the ground in front of sliding doors. It was her that showed me how to do this. Thinking back really hits me. It was simple really. Nothing too special. My box of toys. Her glass of water or tea. And we could talk all day. Or sit in silence happily.

I was young and didn't understand. I always took the two-coloured pills out of the metallic foil and place them into her trembling hands. She would take them and tell me what a good job I did patting me on my head.

I had no idea what they were for. I didn't think it was medicine or anything. With my experience at that age medicine was liquid, tasted bad and came in a brown bottle. The only thing that were different colours were sweets.

I just thought I was giving her sweets everyday. I didn't know they were pills.

I didn't know.

I don't know what happened next either. She wasn't there anymore. I was five. Why wasn't she where? She was gone.

I remember the cathedral. How everyone walked around where she lay motionless. I remember sitting in my Mum's lap. She turned me around and told me not to look.

Several years later I was clearing out a closet with my Mum. I must have been eight or nine. My Mum showed me X-RAY or ultrasound of what I looked like and she started crying. I didn't understand. Then I came across a piece of paper folded into thirds and a newspaper.

It was a death certificate. On it was the reason of death. And tears.

So we cried together.

Heart/Hope.

Thank you for taking this picture and spending time with me. You are one of my best friends and you always will be. <3

Haven't posted in a while. To be honest, I haven't really been busy or anything. I have had a lot on my mind but I guess that is supposed to help me write.

Mirrors. Break them, and what was it? Like seven years bad luck or something. I am not willing to take that risk even if it is just a myth. Just like how I would never walk under a ladder or be mean to a black cat. When I hop out of the shower in the morning I tend to stare at myself in the mirror for no apparent reason. I guess it makes it easier to floss, wash or whatever. But I always have those days where I squint a little and think - woah, I really look like that? Is this how people see me? Then I go crazy and start seeing things that no one else can't. Abstract. The cruelty, beauty and whatnot that is hidden within this hollow shell.

My Mum would always complain about my hair being too long and how it covers my face. I have my reasons for this but she doesn't seem to understand them. She tries to convince me to cut my fringe and says "but you would look so handsome without it" if she is being nice or "Autumn, your hair is going into your soup" at the dinner table. Which is why I never eat at the dinner table anymore. I can put up with her throwing bananas at me but I don't wish for my appearance to be discussed every meal, every day.

I walk out of the house, go to the park where I meet up with my friend and well, just talk. I asked her what it was like for her in the mornings. She tells me. Then she gets to the delicate topic - how do you see me? How do I see her? I think it must have been quite shocking for me because I suddenly stopped picking at the grass and stared down at my shoes. I ask her - how do you see me?

I asked first.

Damn. That gets me every time. Then she starts to explain. She told me that she looked at her full length mirror every morning before she leaves the house and she does even if she stays at home. She went on, saying she is self-conscious about her hair, her figure, how she looks.

I prepared myself, this wasn't a topic where I would bring out my joking self. I started.

"I guess you're over-worrying yourself. I don't think there is anything to be self-conscious about. If all you worry about is how you look then maybe that's a good thing because you don't worry about what is inside you. There is nothing to worry about. You're a great person, you do well in school, you live with a family that cares for you. How you look is only a very small part although it may seem like something big for you. What you see in the mirror isn't really yourself. It's only a reflection. Nothing but a reflection. I guess no one can ever truly see themselves. Other people can though. Like myself. And you look fine to me."

I think I truly deserved that hug.

This/World.

When pen touches paper my thoughts run wild. Remember when we first met? You seemed so empty. So alone. Just like I was.

With each others company, we grew stronger. You were the one who knew the most about me, the one I could tell anything.

Even though you never responded to my questions, I always found an answer in you.

Answer me this. Why do I feel so alone? Don't ever make me change my mind about this. I swear it's true. I always smile to strangers on the footpath, whether it may be someone going for their evening jog or just someone getting from A to B. They rarely smile back.

I guess that means I'm not the only one who is lonely. A lot of people are. How can this world be so populated yet so deserted. Why is it so easy to take, but so hard to give? What happens to the innocent?

Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might have the wish I wish tonight. I overheard a young girl reciting this in the arms of her parents at the beach one cloudless evening. I looked up and saw this one star in the sky. So bright. A sign of hope.

There was nothing absurd about her wish. I grasped my own hand, closed my eyes and tilted my head slightly.

Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might have the wish I wish tonight. I sat there in silence, the waves crashed upon the shore. But hold on, what am I wishing for? I clamped my eyes shut so tight that numerous colours splashed across my vision.

I wish... I wish... the gaps between these fingers were filled with yours. I opened my eyes; dozens of stars were in the sky now. But still, this one star shined so bright.

To whoever reads this, wish upon a star. If we were all like this child, innocent and filled with wonder when we saw the first star in the evening, make a wish, and make that wish come true. Maybe if we did we wouldn't feel so alone.

Just like this child. She held both her parents hands and wished that they would never leave her, that they would always be by her side.

We were both wishing for the same thing. Love. And for love to always be in our lives. If only we had love we would all be content.

Be strong. The world does not watch us break down and laugh. It lets us choose our own path and allows us accept what we see. Yet this world doesn't matter to me. I've longed to tell you how I feel and how fast my heart beats, how strong it is. Never will I see life in someone elses eyes.

Never/Again.

An absolutely perfect moment in mid-December. Black and blue hair covered both her eyes. Her snowy white shirt and caliginous jeans hid only a rainbow of colours beneath. Every step she took brought her closer. To me.

She stopped, leaned forwards and ran her fingers through the grass. A dandelion. She breathed in deep. She breathed me in. And blew. A cascade of snow in the middle of summer.

I stood firmly on the pavement and looked down at my shoes. They were red, laced with white over and over again; until they stopped at what seemed like a perfect bow just above my ankles.

If only I could tie them to the moon, so I would never get lost in you.

I looked up and saw that she now seated in the grass. Her right leg over her left. The sun low in the sky.

As I approached, she turned, smiled and signaled for me to sit down beside her.

"can I see them now?" she said quietly.

She took the camera from around my neck. She was so close. Her peppermint breath. No, spearmint.

"Wow," she said. "These aren't bad, actually they're beautiful."

She turned at me again.

"Not beautiful because I took them," I paused. "But beautiful because of what's in them."

She smiled. Her braces gleamed in the sunlight. I raised my hand and used my fingers to gently brush her hair out of her now sparkling eyes.

Eyes so violet; yet green.

Flash/Vignette.

All we needed was time, but that time destroyed us. I have come to realise that some things cannot be prevented. No matter how much you fight. No matter how hard you try. Once the earth is salted it will die and we will die with it. It's that silence that makes everything uneasy. The silence when everything goes from black and white to colour. I don't know why it aches. It's a pain in my chest, in my lungs. I've been pierced by a thousand needles. So what if I'm strong? Soon all my limbs will numb. I will be unable to move. The crimson that flows through my body will become blue. Sometimes I think that I'm better off without. But I remember your words. We are the same, as your hands went into my pockets. Whatever you do I'll be behind you - from the start and forever until I die. It was incredible. The world doesn't matter to me. I'll give up everything to breathe the same air as you. It's so easy to figure out what you need and it's so hard to understand why you need it. You told me you hated them. I used to think; why though? But now I realise, it wasn't a thousand needles that pierced my lungs. It was a single needle to pierce my heart. The sky starts grey in the morning, but in the evening it is a passionate shade - like a blend a lilac and fuschia. People change, I told myself. For better or worse. What I thought was totally wrong. I was the one who changed. I am the one to blame. Not you. I can't set myself straight. You said absence makes the heart grow fonder, but only for a little while. Too late now. My days roll by slowly. Before I sleep I grasp my phone in hope for a text, a call, whatever. Just a sign that you are thinking of me.

To be disappointed and sad in the morning because I used to wake up for you, but now I wake up to the sound of my alarm.