Purgatory

Poison repeatedly infecting me
There is no escape from this place
Rules set by drunkenness
No greater an annoyance
Continued evaluation of limitation
Split-second-happiness
Transient and in disguise
Kept in captivity
My wings are clipped
Try to control the anger
Try to stay calm
Restrictions leading to unfulfilment
Exasperated by weakness
A feeling so deep
It beckons destruction
Motionless body
Frozen by pain
When will life begin?

Emotional Outlet

Before I delve into the depths of my wonderous thoughts and rants and try to sustain a valid excuse as to why I think they are relevant or neccessary I am going to be totally frank as to why I have created this little thing and say it is for one thing and one thing alone, to express myself as I see fit at any moment I wish to do so. Whatever I write here is purely emotional. It does not necessarily indicate I firmly believe what I am writing, or that it is even me who is writing it. All it is, or all they are, are words. Words that flow into my cerebellum whether they be positive, negative or total nonsense, they are here for anyone to read, relate to or laugh at. I truly do not care. I am doing this for myself, because I want to, because I can.

Cape Town Shmodels

As much as I love the beauty,diversity and subcultures in this great city called Cape Town, trying to make it as a model in this place is rather frustrating and trying at times! I guess I feel there are few "REAL" people here.People who don't care what brand your sunglasses are, what clubs you party at, or whose arm you are "on". I love the camera, and I like to think the camera loves me back. But "knowing the right people" is kinda the impression one gets when looking at what it takes to "make it" here. Maybe this blog will connect me with the minority of faces that speak the truth. A girl can hope.

What makes you decide to decide?

There comes a time in everyone’s life when there is some form of concluding light that switches on inside your head or heart and it says “You need to decide, NOW!” in big, bright, shiny, blinding letters.
But, what or who decides when it turns on? All you know, feel or believe, or even see, is the light itself. The clarity. You never see the escalating events or circumstances that ebb and flow towards the somewhat inevitable occurrence of alleviation from darkness.
And when this happens, how do you know that what you know, is even true? You know it happened. You know it is there. You see it, you feel it, but you don’t know where it came from or why! So you are automatically sceptical about its relevance. You doubt whether it is real and if it can be trusted.
What then, if we eradicate all doubts, and for hypothetical purposes, state that its relevance is in fact irrelevant. That its place of birth is merely an unexplained, undefined phenomenon that has to be accepted, what then does one decide?
Now that you know you have to do something, what is it that you choose to do..?

FaceKAK

You can be who you want to be on facebook. If you’re reading this you most likely think I am a young, blonde, carefree model who gets paid lots of money to stand and look pretty. I am not. What I am, the person sitting behind this PC typing these very words, is a scared, alone, little girl who doesn’t know what to do, where to go, or who she can trust. It would be nice to have the whole world think I am confident and have a goal/plan and that I am in no doubt of my capability of achieving it/them. I could let everyone think that. I could write it here and you would believe it. But that’s bullshit. I have no fucking clue what my plan is. What I want, all I want, is to stand on a stage in front of an audience and scream. Scream until my lungs collapse, until my whole body caves in and there is nothing left to do but fall. And when I do, I guess it’d be nice to have someone care. Care to notice. Care to ask if I am ok. Care enough to even catch me perhaps. But that’s not going happen is it. Instead, I get this lame, fake feeling of people caring when they send me random inbox messages and ask me “how my day was!” Well the answer 9 times out of 10 is shit. Is that what you want to hear? My day was shit. And even if you’re not one of the other hundreds who want to hear how I just got back from an awesome shoot where I was wearing hardly anything, what can you possibly do to make it any better anyway!!