the washing machine ate my socks - by breeony

you may of read some of it beforand the first bits are fucking shit but you get the idea. its all out of order cuz im really lazy and its far far far from being finished, these are just a few bits theres much more. have a read. let me know what you think


Hey death.

It amazes me how this earth can slip by so quickly as us earthlings remain oblivious to the beauty, the nature, the cruelty and the natural disaster that our world has become. We all live in our own world, most of us choosing to block out the bad that happens in the world around them, filling their lives with fake smiles and endless relationships. There are those who are aware and just choose to feel sorry about it but remain their distance and do not interrupt the road hill track our plant is taking. Then there are those that travel to third world countries, bringing their people food and water and gifts at Christmas time. Our first instinct is to help man kind; we take petty in our own kind, when animals, plants and our earth alike are left to suffer. We take petty on man kind; we take petty on our own kind when most do not deserve our petty or help. We try so hard to please everyone around us we become stuck in that pattern and loose ourselves, even if we do not relies it we are all slipping away day by day. What the fuck is wrong with life? A broken generation that has become so self cantered we have lost most meaning to anything. We have appreciation for nothing. Do you ever wonder why you're alive? Just wish that this might be your time, your time to die. My name is Eden and I don’t stand a chance.


Getting scars.

He was wearing big black boots, a leather jacket, skinny leg jeans and a head band to help control his long blond hair when he met my mother. They were both 18, straight out of high school and set on the path for the rest of their lives. She wanted to be a flight attendant, to travel around the world. He played in a band and body boarded everyday, back when body boarding wasn’t cool. He a young man just wanting to have fun she with a dream to excel in a career.
They had both seek shelter in a book store from the violent storm that had suddenly struck their tiny home town of Ipswich by surprise while both were running errands.
She was drenched. Her white summer dress stuck to her body. He was cold and wet his long locks dripping with water. And then their eyes met, it was like an unscripted fairy tale really. Two lonely souls meet, love at first sight, he offers to buy her coffee and then spend the rest of the afternoon together talking like old friends followed by him walking her home after the storm clears laughing as they go and a goodnight kiss on her door step.
Mum kept him wanting and dad loved the chase.
They dated for a while; mum did night training as a flight attendant and dad played the odd gig. Dad wanted to run away and get married; mum wanted to wait and settle down and have a family. So they compromised.
They looked around; found a cute home that had just been built. It backed onto the Brisbane River and the yard was filled with young palm trees and long grass.
After a long day of moving all the furniture they had bought the week before especially for their new home, they sat down with a bottle of red wine and toasted to their young love. Their glasses clinked as they laughed and stared into each others eyes, crickets chirping and singing in the background, knowing this was it, this was the start of the rest of their lives together.
And that was the night we were conceived.











Excuse me sir do you have the time?

Eight months and six days later. My mother smiled down at her enlarged stomach as my father cooed at it talking baby talk. She had been feeling sick that day and as it crept into dusk she was tried and kept having false contractions. She had another month of pregnancy expected. As she rested her hair on the pillow next to the man she loved, still indulged in pain she felt it, and as liquid soaked through her underpants her mother had bought her to wear while she was pregnant because she felt embarrassed buying such large undies, she lied dead still in shock.
“Eli.” She whispered grabbing onto the neck of his shirt forceful.
“We have to go to the hospital, now.”
They were both excited to have a baby in their life, its just what their small house with one more bed room and enough room for one more little life needed to feel like home.
10 hours of labour later.
She had her long red tied up out of her face as it dripped with sweat dad holding her hand as she squeezed it tight as their ears felt with three cries and their minds filled with shock.



If we lived in a ghost town, all the other towns would be scared of us.

While she had been pregnant mum had refused to have an ultra sound or to find out the sex of her child, she wanted a natural water birth but with the unexpectedness of it all no one was prepared for that.
Thorp came first, his big bright green eyes gazing at this strange new world. His little head coved in a soft small bed of blond curls.
Then came Sky, her little bald head, pale pearl coloured skin and big blue eyes amazed everyone, not only for her beauty, for the fact that Julie was only expecting one child, and now with two she and Eli had to rethink a few things.
Last but least popped out my head. Dad’s eyes begin to tear. My little body, so small and fragile was taken into the doctors hands. I had mums red hair and dads big green eyes.
Mum lay there, she let her grip on dads hand go and she just stared. Gazed at her new family. And then she cried broke down in not tears of happiness but concern.
She had to pause her training while she was pregnant and the only money that they got came in from dads gigs. They could have coped with one baby, but three.
Oh deary me




Overwhelming rage for humanity

After a while things settled, mum and dad coped with us three although it wasn’t easy. Mum started back at school her dream of travelling crushed and dad started teaching music to the neighbouring kids after his band slit up. We were far from a normal family but it was just how things were. It was how we lived and how we were raised, with a free spirited, wild mother and a mellow, caring father.
On our first birthday they decided to marry.
On our seconded their wedding and our birthday party was joint and the day was filled with cake and good wishes. In saying that my mothers parents were far from happy with their daughters choice, but her choice it was and they loved their grandchildren very much and wanted what was best for us.






Please put the Christmas tree away

We lived in a small house away from the city in Ipswich, it’s was a new area and we didn’t have neighbours on ether side of our house. Although the house is small we had a large back yard and the un-mowed grass tickled under your chin. The back yard stretched onto the Brisbane River but we were never allowed to swim in it after a cow got eaten by a shark while taking a bath in the river just down the road.
It was a great yard tho, swing sets and dad made cubby houses filled our childhood with hours in that yard playing cops and robbers, doll and space rescue with the swings as our rockets. Thorp was always one of the girls and he loved his sister just as much as we loved him, we were all an item our differences coming together and making one unusual person. We were each others shadows.
I remember it oh so clearly, one hot and sticky summer evening after a long day of playing when we were four; mum had just come home from school and fetched us from the yard while dad watched the football on TV. Back then we hated baths and as she chased us round the yard in hope of getting us inside had kinda turned into a game. This night was no different and as we darted around the long grass from our mothers grip, giggling and squealing, Sky tripped. Our came suddenly came to a halt.

As we grew the three of us found we felt each others pain, not to the same extent but when one of us tripped and got hurt we all felt some pain.

Mum ran over to Sky as she lay there in the long grass on her back holding onto her knee.
“Let me have a look” mum said slowly moving Sky’s hand from her knee to reveal a small cut surrounded by a large grass stain.
Mum lay down next to Sky and hugged her and Thorp and I made our way over to her.
We all lay there for hours watching the clouds drift by, just talking and laughing, watching day transform into night as mozzies fed at our bodies and mum shared us stories of her and our father back in the day.
This memory is truly precious to me.



My verdict has come.

Now I am not going to tell you too much about my brother, I will not tell you of how amazing he was, how he looked after his sisters on the first day of school when we got bullied for looking different to the other kids and only sticking to ourselves. I am not going to tell you how he would help mum with the dishes or how he spent his pocket money on us one time to buy Sky and I ice cream one time when the ice-cream man came round and he missed out because we had already spent our weekly $10 and wanted ice-cream. I'm not going to tell you how he and dad had an unbreakable bond and their shared love for music kept them practising together until thorp almost fell asleep on the seat of his beloved piano, nor how he would act out of kindness for anyone in any sign of trouble. I will not let you get attached to him or feel a strong emotion for him, I will not let you fall in love with his as ever old lady he helped put their grocery in the car did or as every teacher did when he would bring them sweats just for helping him with his home work even though this was their job. I will not let you know of his cheeky grin and love for life. Because if I let you know all this, then you will get attached, you will feel emotion towards him, you will fall in love with him. And when you even remotely form a relationship or feel for a person you are hurt when they die.




You turned your back and walked away

When we were born the test showed there was something wrong, we suffered from a disease and were predicted not to live to twenty years of age. We were to young to learn about it and to this day it is my personal choice not to know anything but it will be the death of me and on march the 8th 2001 when he was 10 at exactly 7.42pm it was the death of my brother Thorp after he had been admitted to hospital with strong head pains and lack of energy the week before.
Sky and I never left his side. Mum had the time off school and dad cancelled all his lesions.
Although thorp was not well he still remained more concerned about other people and would read to the older people down the hall when he had the strength. They too fell in love with him automatically; he just had that effect on people and would often comment to the staff about how much a brave boy he was when everyone else had their doubts.
Within the week thorp slowly lost movement in all of this limbs and would slip in and out of sleep. This monster that was set to steal our lives did that, slowly it shut down each muscle finally getting to your heart or lungs and you would die instantly or you would suffocate to death.

On the morning of his death Sky and I awoke in harmony to the sudden stabbing feeling that filled our heads we looked to his bed to find thorps mouth spilling with blood. I ran down the hall heart full of fear, grabbed the first doctor I could find and brought him back to Thorps room. When we got back mum who was in the room awake and attempting to get Thorp to lay on his side so he didn’t choke on his own blood. Sky was holding onto his hand, she was clearly in pain as well.
After this event and the blood stoped Thorp was put onto strong mind numbing medication and moved into his own room. All he did was sleep.
During the day the stabbing pain in both Sky and my own head worsened and soon the pain became unbearable and we were given pain killers by nurses that feared for our health to slip into the state of our brothers.
6.57pm.
The pain felt by both of us we knew was nothing compared to that felt by Thorp.
I left Sky and Dad in the canteen to finish their meals and made my way through the quite hall to Thorps new room where I knew I would find mum with him.
I stood at the doorway watching my normally strong and brave mother once full of life and adventure as she sat there holding her dyeing sons hand now a broken weak woman.
“He doesn’t want this pain.” I said softly.
As death slipped through his small frail body that night the pain of loosing our brother and the pain that he felt overwhelmed Sky and I and we accompanied our broken parents by his bed that night for long heart destroying hours as we sulked and mourned for the light of our family had just been switched off.








Sorry I had one of my head phones in.

Often I hear girls in the bathroom at school, girls that I see around and they have little effect on me but always seem to be with a close group of girl friends and seem to have it pretty easy, as if they have excepted themselves and don’t have to live up to anyone’s judgements. I sit there and listener to them chats. From the safety of my escape stall. They chat about gymnastics, they are all into gymnastics. They talk about movies and boys, although they are the same age as I they are very immature and very naive, maybe this is what I have mistaken for self acceptance.
“I’m invisible to everyone.” I heard one girl state one day while applying her small amount of blush that she sneaks to school because her mother wont let her leavening the house with makeup on. “My parents never notice me and today Felix walked straight pasted me when I said hi to him” she went on.
Felix is the boy she likes, most girls do. I don’t really see the big fuss; girls just like it because he’s a bit metro sexual and expresses his emotions, which I find bluntly annoying.
After this small rant on being invisible her friends comfort her, tell her she’s beautiful and her parents love her and that Felix was problem just distracted or maybe had one of his head phones in the ear she couldn’t see.
After they left I sat there until the bell to go to class rang thinking about being invisible. I would not like to be invisible, I would nether be dead truly, better to not exist at all then to be invisible. No one is really invisible, and if anything is invisible I take petty on them or it.

Young boys and toy guns.

As children Hide and seek were Sky, thorp and my favourite game. With the three of us set loose in our house of everything we could spend a whole day playing it. As I grew older it became a game for only me. I would hide, normally in a little spot in the garden that used to be Thorps cubby house but then he broke his ankle when he fell off the big brick wall and never went back there again. Back then all the braches used to be chopped back leaving about a 4square meter clearing in our mini rain forest so he could play. It was cool and a heaven for young boys. Now it was my escape. The clearing had turned into more of a patch big enough for me to sit down on a rug and seek. Seek the meaning of things, why things were happening, and find new things out about myself. Hide and seek.

I once fell in love with you, just because the sky turned from grey into blue.
I was the only once born without curls out of Sky, Thorpe and I. quite a rip off if you ask me. Once we started high school sky did nothing more then get amazing amounts of male attention while I tended to fade into the background more, and often got the reaction “ oh my god! Are you really sky’s sister?” when I was forced to sit next to new people in my classes, or just meeting new people around the place. Sky was always the wild one, always the one who got away with anything and got every boy she wanted and every female wanted to be her. I tell you why, because she was pretty and sweet and lovely, pretty girls get their own way.

My bird cage.

The house we live in is full of clutter, well I call it clutter, dad calls it a heap of shit and mum calls it holding onto the past. Personally I don’t like a house cluttered with the past. We have photos of my brother and sister everywhere and to tell you the truth it doesn’t really help me get over their deaths.




Suicide is in my blood, it always has been.

Dear mum, dad and Eden,
Well we know the end is nearing and we know what this end will bring with it.
I don’t want to spend the end cooped up in a hospital beds nurses tending to my every need fighting a battle that has already been lost.
So I have run away with Pat to England, I'm quite possibly on the flight right now.
I don’t want to be chased; I don’t want to be cried for, I want to be left to my death. Because we all know, this is the end, I am going to die. I have given up as have we all. I cannot let my family watch me die. One day I will just shut down, like it is
S post to happen, Pat will take care of me he says, he says he will not let me slip in my last few moments, but I have already lost my mind.
I love you all so very much, and this is why I leave you now.
So we all get used to the end.
Please don’t loose this fight Eden, don’t let it take us all.
I love you all so very much.
Love always,
Sky.

I will eat your children.

Before I die I want to date a boy who wears smart looking glasses and has both sides of his nose pierced, a boy who passed university and is now in the midway struggle of finding his new career and himself. A boy with a colourful Mohawk that pops pills like skittles. And a boy that rides a motorbike without shoe. Then I will finally settle down with some old rich guy that shares my love for cats and I shall lounge around the pool throwing Cigarettes at the topless pool boy.






I like to hand surf out the car window, but when I'm not in a car, and there is no wind.

Mum won’t get out of bed today
She is sick
Very very sick.
Sick in the head the doctors say.
Sick in the head.
Very very sick.
She’s been this way for a while.
I guess it’s what happens when your world falls apart.
I lay in my bed, head warm under my covers, feet out in the chilled winter morning air.
It’s been 12 days since Sky few away to England with that fucking creep of a boyfriend Pat. All we can do is sit and wait for the police to come to our door. Dad has thrown himself into his work. (FINISH)



My cat doesn’t like the vet.

So I'm sitting in my room, legs crossed, all alone. Its 2:42am.Mum has gone down to the supermarket that is open 24 hours. She says she doesn’t like the crowds in the day. She says they scare her.
Once you have hit rock bottom you will understand and appreciate things a lot more, you will grow to learn not everything is about you, and accept life as it comes.
I hate this feeling
I'm left alone in this big empty house I call my own, that dose not feel nor seem like home
I feel like I’m being watched and some how this company reviles me.
The silence is killing me but I’m scared if I kill it, I will miss a beat.
Nothing makes sense to me.
I have this dream of a big white wedding on the beach in Fiji at sundown. I really want to meet the guy I'm going to spend the rest of my life with. I know it’s not Lee; I really cannot wait until I pick up the courage to dump him actually. He is such a sweet boy and I don’t want to hurt his feelings, so obvious I do like him but I feel as if I'm wasting my time.
I want long wavy hair for my wedding, not my white dead mop that just touches beneath my small bust line; if I had bigger boobs it wouldn’t seem as long.
So I'm sitting in my room, legs crossed, all alone. I can just imagine mum walking along the street, struggling with her green environmentally friendly shopping bag full of stuff we possibly don’t need and I will never eat. Wearing thorps big coat and Sky’s favourite bangle she bought in Melbourne when she went down there to find herself and came back with 5 more suit cases filled with cloths she knew she would never wear again and a tattoo.
Ah I hate my hair. Maybe I should go get it cut tomorrow. My pause in thought leaves me with the silence. I glance around the room. I only have my fairy lights on and I can’t really see that back wall well. As I glance around a pair of scissors catch my eye. Sharp metal scissors mum used to open the boxes when we moved and have never left my room.
So I'm sitting in my room, legs crossed, all alone, with scissors in my hand. I stair down, straight down to see the soft white flesh of my wrist. The veins so so close to the surface. I run my finger slowly up one vain, following it up my aim to my arm pit, I hate arm pits. I open the scissors, and I cut, I cut as straight as I can as my hands shake. And as my dead white hair floats to the ground beside me, I make a choice that I will not allow my hair to grow past my shoulders until I meet the one. So I can grow it fresh for my wedding.









You always take his side.

“You’re going to a phycologist today” mum announces over breakfast.
“I think you may need to get some advice other then mine” she continues.
“Mum don’t they cost a lot of money?”
“You watch too much American TV. I got a good girl; she worked with a friend of mine who lost her husband. She can help us for free, she dose it for a happy world not for money.”
So I go upstairs and put on a pretty dress for the shrink who can now save me from my problems. Give me advice when she has no idea who I am. I really wish people understood me. I can hardly understand me, I have no idea who a person who in not knowing me for less then a day can fix all my problems, but hey right night I'm up for anything that can get me out of this hole.
I can run all I want but I cannot escape my head.
Her office is small, a young girl, her name bag reads Julie, in heals that look to be hurting her feet as she stands to greet us and hands us papers that we are to fill out before we talk to the doctor. It’s about why we are here and the symptoms I am having. I tick all the boxes without looking and hand the sheet back to the girl as she stares at me as if I am some sort of nut job.
Fuck her.
We wait for a little while, possibly less then 10minurts. Mum picks up an old grabby magazine from the start of last year about healthy mind healthy life and pretends to be interested in it to avoid awkward small talk in front of Julie.
In the room there is Julies messy little desk with her office computer and a bunch of flowers to the side. A small selection of old toys in the corner of the room, three worn down couches and in the centre of them a wooden coffee table covered in old magazines. The couches face a very thick door with a piece of computer paper with the words ‘doctor Alondorf’ typed on it and glue tacked to the door.
You can tell the place runs for a happy world and not money.
So after the short time of waiting, I look up at the sound of the old door knob on the doctor’s door being opened. Out walks a boy possibly a year or so older with me, accompanied by his mother.
“Roxanne?” mother must recognise this poor lady as the friend who had been recommended her the doctor, the other who had lost her husband. She had obesely had a hard time in there as her face is stained in mascara tears and her hand is in her sons.
“Oh hello Mia” Roxanne said wiping her face with the screwed up tissue she held in her other hand that wasn’t taken by her son’s, who just stood there and stared at me as a voided his glare.
It was like the moment you entered this place you were occasionally a freak and with this gave any person promising to stare at you like you’re something sad and messed up with a story to share and no one sorry enough to hear it. And although he was also in the same place, with the sad story as I wish I had, I envied him in only loosing one piece of himself, though a person should never have to suffer such a loss, he was lucky compared to my sad bullshit.
“Come in Eden” an old worn voice came from the door that Roxanne and her son just exited from. (finish!!!)










My wonder years got cut short.

I oh so miss being happy.
When someone so precious and dear to you is ripped away, someone who you love and truly makes you happy is torn out of your life with no return, you think you would be able to survive on the memories for a while, live off that last little bit of juice in the carton.
No.
When you loose your last taste of happiness after so many mouth fulls have been dropped before, the only thing you can do is cry.
Cry and think of the good times and think ‘Oh the good times, when I was happy. The good times when I smiled and forgot every worry I had and lived for the present not dwelling on the past.’
Now you would think these fond memories would please you, that you actually once experienced happiness. You once had someone who loved you, someone who only wanted to be with you. You had someone who cared and showed an interest, who completed you and thought you were the most amazing and beautiful person in the world. You had a person who sat with you and held you when you cried.
If you ever have a person who treats you like this, who treats you as their own life, hold on to them, please.
So the memories that once brought a smile to your face now destroy you.
All the good times attack at your mind and leave you feeling sorry for yourself.
You cannot live off the good old memories. It just doesn’t work like that now, dose it?
And now you’re sitting there crying all on your own and it is your fault.
Loosing him was your fault.
You hate yourself.
And it’s all your fault.



Did you know a rhino’s horn is made up of compressed air?
Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock. It’s nothing more then me and this fucking clock trapped in this misery of a fucking room. No thoughts fill my head but the ticking and tocking of the seconds passing by. The put me here, said I was a danger to myself. I'm a danger to myself. I’m a danger to myself. Tum hurts. I’ve lost my mind. This clock has stolen my mind. Do you think if I knock on the door and ask nicely they will remove the clock? Hmm, but then what would I think of, but then what would I do.
My eyes narrow on the deep, red snakes dancing up my arms, around my thighs.
My eyes narrow on the reasons why I'm in this fucking white room with this fucking clock.
Blue shoes and white teeth will come in this fucking white room in exactly 56 minutes 32, 31, 30, 29 seconds. They will ask me if I'm ok then without waiting for an answer which I would reply if I could with a simple “fucking out of my mind” but no they never wait, never wait for a reply, just stab deep a needle to my arm and then leave without another word and then I'm left once more on my own in this fucking white room with this fucking clock and run my finger down and around my body as the poison slivers though my thick blue veins.
55 minutes 47, 46, 45, 42 oops 43.
Fuck.