Ian Logan

About me:

i am a little bit further away.

my name is ian and i've honestly never really said that to describe me. it scares me to be so bold. i can say anything and everything else but not that. not my age. not how i am. just how i see and feel. people honestly scare the fuck out of me, no matter how much i want to befriend them. i want to write but i can only write when the entire world is violent in my head. or when i am truly feeling in colours. coincidentally, this is unstable at best. coincidentally, the book is coming along really slow.

i really do live for little things. this is bad sometimes. because i'll take things to heart and always be followed by colours of warning. i am idealistic. i am chasing a ghost. i am happy with that and when i catch up with gravity, i can show you all what i've always seen and believed in.

i studied but i don't believe in study. except for when the teacher is telling you about themselves. i work but i only believe in the people i work with. i'm feeling a lot: i believe in that. i believe in being broken and being in love and being fucking infinite. i believe in my friends, because they make me angry and they put me back together again and they make me alive, in knowing them and each of their smiles. i believe in hope; that slowly we move towards something we've only ever dreamed of, what we've all waited for. what we continue to fight for. i believe in the past, in being wrong. i believe in the present, in failing. i believe in the future, in finding the way.

people tend to see me and know me but never meet me. i am too scared to meet you and i don't know you see me and you'll only meet me when i'm already crying. i'll just feel stupid. if you meet me when i'm happy, i'm probably swallowing butterflies and speaking really fast and showing too much interest in your oddity. i don't mean to but this is all i can do because i really am interested. i am not sure why it would make you feel better if i didn't care so much. i really am not.

i am passionate about mixtapes, quiche that my mum burns just right, and lowercase letters.

these things make me feel bad: people who don't smile at strangers, open spaces, using the postal service, staplers, and being alone.

i don't know how to end things. i don't know how to end this. i just want to live. i want to live surrounded by people i can see: friends who are ridiculous, family who make me furious, and maybe one person who understands the beauty in these two. who finds the beauty in me.

maybe you shouldn't read any of this. maybe you should just get to know me.

i am a lost cause. but i've got a plan. naturally imperfect. staying that way. a heart of gold and broken hands. likes feeling nice. goal in life to write a little. love a little. feel a lot. tripping over early midnight mornings. collecting colours. a soundtrack of curled smiles and breathing palms. leather necklaces and things left behind. an old couch all night long.

i am kind of working on writing a book.

i love music with scratching whispers, warm choirs and hand claps.

i am a series of odd quirks and inconsistent talents.
i am a romanticist. i keep a lot of secrets. i am not photogenic.
but my worth has never been in looks.

i am shy and cannot maintain eye contact until i find all the puzzle pieces within you.

i am not as strange as you might think.

i am a little bit closer.

oh man, she whispers something in my ear...

i like interesting things. beautiful things. i like to stare into the sunset. into glasses of milk. to hold a soft spot for the colour of orange juice. i trace my fingers in circles along the floor. when its quiet. i'm watching the colour white bend and dance into many things. i smile at horoscopes. i enjoy tarot cards. and watching people in trains. things i don't understand. standing at the edge of the water, watching the ocean whisper as it passes. guessing its secrets. i believe in the dark. there are questions everywhere. things move when you close your eyes. i'll believe that everything came to exist when the planets sang together. perfect. i fall in love with characters. i fall in love with moments. the beauty of things that move your soul. falling down, laughing underwater. the romantic ideals of coffee and all-night diners. the pretty girl at the coat check. writing on serviettes and the word cavalier.

the message is all clear, she motions outside.

smiles, sunsets, the warmth of breathing. movements in the dark, whispers in the cold. quiet endless beauty. fingers gently across foreheads, coffee and odd socks. toothpaste and jackets. wooden floorboards, huddled in couches, a closeness before dreams. faces turned away, downcast eyes. hands in the sky, grass and feet and clouds. trickling across book pages, crawling in yellowed glows. the morning coming through those curtains. the solid realisation of skins. the colour of shoulders in the morning and tangled sheets and bad hair. spilling secrets, waiting forever.

i trail her closely from behind, she tries hard not to cry.

when you think everything comes in blinking lights. you are the sun and you have your hours. or a little closer: one hour. the idea of that is moving and glowing. chasing suns and keeping our lanterns. and with this, it's still here. in this single passing of suns, it feels okay. it will be okay for now. right now is that glow. its just hard to explain. i know it's wrong for me to catapult like this. i'll likely wake up miserable. or brilliant and unattached to this. the unknowing of all knowledge. of all understandings of distances. falling out of my toes. but i'm counting the rings of light in my water. i just know which way the light was bending. the colour of our breathing. the ways she didn't move. this is how i think of the moment and smile. this is how i feel it all.

she shakes underneath the pouring rain;

so the future must have a sound and its coming to find us. like the colour of white in your head. when you're staring at that old mirror in the hallway. you always look at it but you never really look at it. and then you have to put your hands between your knees so you don't fall over. so you don't open up and you don't become exposed. and the ceiling is nice and the sound is nice and there is a ring of light on the wall. you can feel it in the tiles and in the stale water. all of it strapped to your legs in neat lines. close and clean and sharp and still.

The truth is i'm too tired to play pretend.

and here in the middle of the night. with the ghosts of the clock hands and alien eyes. the world sleeps and stagnates. insects swim the sky. thick wet green clouds of wings. sounds spin round. paint my face something hollow. pained in patience.

or take my hand. trade in secret names. meet me in the mouth of night. breathe in ignition. curving warmth and ladders of bone. drink in dreams and sweat the sunrise. sleep tomorrow in my eyes.

this is goodbye, this is the end.