Static lines.

  If you couldn't deduce the metaphor, my last post implied my building apprehension. Of collectivity, of friends. Since then, the fortnight has had its highs and lows. From manic exuberance to poignant feelings of inadequacy. I don't mean to claim that my life is out of control, nor do I have solid reason to rant - after all, others may have it worse. Yet I'm feeling deceived by the universe. I need a genuine fix. I've always wanted to be the supporting pillar for everyone but I might just be collapsing. Sorry friends, I didn't know caring was bad. Sometimes the atmosphere tastes like disdain. I think I'm the only one noticing. 'Am I not measuring up?' I'd ask myself. Oh Rachel. Don't be silly, don't lash out at yourself. I'm one to usually give out advice, but also one to not take it. Help yourself, please.

  Now, the static lines. Their inanimate nature unnerves me to the core. I don't want to be unsure anymore. Over and over. It's a lethal dose. Which begs the final question: should I chase my yearnings or trust that everything will fall into place?

(Wooooo, some good ole indie rock. Even better if they're homegrown Aussie. Combine the two together, with an intoxicated verve. If you're into bands like The Kooks, you'll be fond of this track. It served as a great stimulant to express my thoughts.)

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