it's all a part of his plan, it's all in his hands, but I never asked for it, I never did

I am proper loving Perfume Genius at the moment.

I wish I could grab a piano and stretch my fingers across the keys and make music like his. The only word I can think of for it is beautiful. And really, really sad. You can tell his music is personal to him, he sings with such a broken look on his face. It feels fragile and is completely tangible.

I want to be so immersed in sound like him and make such simple, lovely songs as he does with just a piano and his voice.

I hate my parents for never making me learn piano as a child like everyone else did.

I hate them for selling ours before I ever got a chance to work my way around the keys. I miss it. I miss our piano even though I never knew how to play it.

On a holiday in Spain once, the villa we were renting had a grand piano in the sort of living room area. Playing with chords and the pedal, finding ways around the out of tune keys, I managed to have a go at it. Someone asked me if I was playing some classical composer's work...Chopin I think. When I got back and showed some friends they thought it was from a Muller Corner advert. It was nothing though and I quickly forgot it.

I've always loved people who play piano really well. She takes it for granted sometimes I think, her music often revolves around her melodies on the piano. I would love to be able to come up with stuff like she does.

I haven't written any things for a while. Sometimes I think pour so much into this blog there's nothing left to write.

But then again, it's probably just me being caught up in things too quick to think about them.

I felt really detached today. Geography field trip, walking up Box Hill. Shut myself off with my iPod and stormed across dry valleys and scarp slopes, huffing and sweating and generally feeling the most unattractive I have in a while. I think I might have wasted time with myself. Normally when I sort of blank everything else out I think about stuff, important stuff to me. I didn't even bother trying to today. At the moment my head is still trying sort out all the kinks and knots and tangled up mess of my thoughts. None of it makes sense and I just get confused now when things get too hard for me to face. I think I'm a coward.

I'm a bit annoyed at myself. He is always the one to say sorry. I'm too stubborn. I expect for him to, not even forgive me, just ignore it when I get stressy, but whenever he is a bit I end up getting annoyed myself and then he apologises when it isn't his fault. He apologises too much, and sometimes I don't know when he really is sorry or when he's just saying it to end the argument.

I don't like the arguments.

I like messing around with him and being a twat to make him laugh and mock me and kiss me.