Victoria Williams: 0325

Texts I have sent, No.8

Victoria Williams: 0324

Texts I have sent, No.7

Victoria Williams: 0323

Texts I have sent, No.6

Victoria Williams: 0322

Texts I have sent, No.5

Victoria Williams: 0321

Texts I have sent, No.4

Victoria Williams: 0320

Texts I have sent, No.3

Victoria Williams: 0319

Texts I have sent, No.2

Victoria Williams: 0318

I forgot what was happening to you,
Sometimes I succeeded in forgetting and sometimes I had to work at it,
When I got home my boots were full of your fingernails

Victoria Williams: 0317

I view the day outsiderly
I look at things outsiderly,
All day until the evening when,
I slip back into your mind again.

Victoria Williams: 0316

When my legs are next to your ears,
What can you hear?
What my knees tell you,
I have the satisfaction of never knowing

Victoria Williams: 0315

Thanks Vickie!

Victoria Williams: 0314

What’s your favourite colour?
I don’t have one – that’s racist.

Victoria Williams: 0313

Sitting in the library, and I don’t think that my efforts to surreptitiously undo the top button on my jeans are going unnoticed…

Victoria Williams: 0312

Toffee is my chewing gum. #LivingDangerously

Victoria Williams: 0311

Advice on your third birthday:
I would sweetly bring him all the open and mostly full cans of alcohol I’d taken a sip of and not liked, and in return he would hold the can in his lap, lean back in his chair and squint, and tell me: You don’t get through life by never meaning anyone any harm. 

Victoria Williams: 0310

They said you can’t build something real from these fleeting motes that go by on a breeze. They said you can’t construct a life from scraps of other people’s.
Well we’ll fucking see about that won’t we?

Victoria Williams: 0309

Every day the same trajectory. An abstract part of you rides as a passenger in the chariot which pulls the sun across the sky, looking down on your helpless body performing its daily rituals; catching this train and that, moving in the same worn circles; the future always an elaborate pantomime of the past, the same characters and villains appearing, each year in more exaggerated dress and painted faces. The endless waiting to be born; waiting to perform the right action which will allow you to be released into the brilliant, blinding, blank unknown. Do I mean the future? Or do I mean death? Or are they perhaps THE SAME THING? Haha, anyway, look at me rambling on! Happy birthday kiddo!

Victoria Williams: 0308

Have you ever thought about seeing a psychiatrist?
Has a psychiatrist ever thought about seeing me?

Victoria Williams: 0307

Hobbies:
Getting competitive with strangers over who has the most severe emotional problems.