To My Future Boyfriend ( A Song by a Dreamer)


A love letter to my future boyfriend
Hope you’re all good and handsome
And kind as daisy
Hope we’ll reach our old years
And be fine

But, oh my future boyfriend
Will you ever understand
The depth of my emotion
In the palm of my hand

For I am an endless sea
In which you shall drown
Better stay away than
Leave a smile for a frown

‘Cause oh my future boyfriend
Do you know what you’re getting into

I’m a mad girl
I’m a bad girl
Yes I can be crazy
As hell
I will do things to you
Which will make you go blue…
…in the face.

Oh my future (hu—I nearly say husband here in the song!) boyfriend
I will be ever so soft
Kind as the clouds are
As they pass on by

And I’ll write you songs
I’ll write you books
I’ll make up words
And give you shy looks

Oh my future boyfriend
Do you really know me?
I’m not an ordinary girl
And very hard to please

I’m a mad girl
I’m a bad girl
Yes I can be crazy
As hell
I will do things to you
Which will make you go blue…
…in the face.

I’m a mad girl
I’m a bad girl
Yes I can be crazy
As hell
I will do things to you…
…but you know I love you too.

Click HERE to listen to it, or click the link below:

This song was inspired by country songs, and is only loosely based on myself: I don’t believe I am that crazy or mad (to a certain extent, yes), but, generally, it’s about a girl who is afraid of what her future boyfriend will truly think of her—which, I guess, we all are, in the end.


Updates On This INFP’s Life


Well, there’s good news, and there’s bad news.

The bad news is—nothing! (Well, apart from world-wide suffering, deforestation and animal cruelty, of course). I just—sorry, was that a bad joke? Sorry. It’s just that, in movies and films, they always have that line, “bad news” and “good news”, and it’s like, well, I thought I’d just try it out for a change.

The good news is, I recently finished another book. This one, I will be sending into a publisher next week Thursday. After a couple more edits—just skim-overs—it’ll be done, and then, off it goes, to its new fate: maybe it’ll get accepted, maybe it won’t. Either way, at least I gave it a go, as Australians like to say.

It’s a book…well, to be honest, I can’t actually say anything about it without ruining everything. Let’s just say, there’s a train in it, and lots of magic. A magical train. And that is as far as I’ll go. Sorry. If it ever gets published—I am really proud of this one, so it has, I don’t know, maybe a 1% chance of actually getting accepted—then you’ll all find out what it is about!

I’m also turning the book I have posted on this blog into a full-fledged book. I don’t know what to do about the copy I already have on this blog though, because if the new book gets published, and someone—say, from the publishers—stumbles across this blog, and finds a similar piece of work on it, I might get in trouble for copyright, for copying myself! Anyway. That’s all stuff in the offing; I haven’t even got a single reply from a publisher yet, in my entire life.

There is bad news. The bad news is, despite being already in my twenties, I have never dated, or been on a date, or kissed a man, or even dabbled in anything close to a relationship.
Certainly, I am happy with the life I am living now, indulging in my passions part-time while working the rest of the time, but at night—and NOT for sexual reasons—I do get rather lonely, and feel it would be nice to cuddle up with someone. Preferably someone who is not my own mother. It’s just not the same.

I have considered online dating, but then, people tell me that’s a kettle of fish you have to be prepared to dip your toes into. You just never know who you might meet.

Let’s see. What else? Nothing, really. I have been sleeping an awful lot lately, since it is the long weekend here in Australia. It was Australia Day! A day to celebrate how wonderful it is to live in Australia, for all people. I do like Australia. It is my home, after all. Apart from the very rare racist person, in fact, it’s pretty excellent.

Well, that’s it from me. I am, for once, actually running out of things to say. In the past, many people have wronged me, or picked on me, and, as I live my life, and grow happier and more confident, I sometimes wish, with the taste of bitter regret in my mouth, that I had been as confident and sure as myself from the very beginning, instead of painfully shy and sensitive, and an easy target. Well, that’s really it. See you later.

PS: I sometimes get comments regarding music, and I would just like to say, just for the record, that Taylor Swift is practically all I ever listen to. As an INFP, her music resonates with me on a very deep, very great level, and I adore her, and ALL of her music.

“Immortal” A Song By A Dreamer


Never you mind
I will always find
A better place to be
In my own heart

And we’re drivin under the sky
Taking our lives for a fly
You told me not to lose the beat
As we drove in the heat

I said we’re going to die
It’s not as if we’re immortal
He said don’t be shy
Let’s go make our own time portal


And they said, Ah….
And they said, Ah….
‘Cause we’re so far
From our homes…

We got our lives in such a twist
Not gonna lie to you
I guess we’re in quite the fix
Not even God can save you

And whether it’s heaven or hell
At least we have some fun
And let’s go ‘fore they ring the bell
And schooltime comes

Chorus x1


Take me and go away
Far from this place
You and I will have such a blast
That the skies will
Collapse on us

Chorus x1

Listen to it, if you want, by clicking HERE Or the link below:

“Figure It Out” By A Dreamer


Trying to figure it out

And I don’t even know

How to buy a house

And to build a home

And you say I do care

We can live in a shack by the beach

You say it’s so unfair

The way rich people eat


Well, I’m…

Trying to figure it out

Take my hand and we’ll run away

I’m taking destiny into our hands

We’ll make the stars align

You and I…

But you tell me you want the cash

Because the bills are piling up

And I’ve got nothing in my stash

Just cigarettes and nothing much

And you say, “Come on, now”

We can’t live like this

We want a baby someday

And if can’t do that for me…

Chorus x1


Leave me, my dear

You and I are not, meant to be

Leave me, my dear

For you and I have no destiny

Click on the link to listen to it. Thanks for reading.

Things INFPs Do That Make Others Think We Are Silly


**To get INFP and general life advice, or Skype counselling conversations, or to choose a blog topic, click HERE or the link:

My life, thus far, has been a series of moments.

It’s interesting, isn’t it? The thousands of moments that make up life, the way time passes. The other day, I was sitting up in my bed, with my legs, encased in jeans, stretched out in front of me, and I thought, to myself, “Once upon a time, those had been short, tiny baby legs. Look at them now: so long, so grown-up.” It was a queer moment. I felt, for a second, as if I didn’t understand anything.

I don’t know what I want from life. Well, in terms of career, I know I want to be a writer, and to get published one day, but when it comes to love, to relationships, I have no idea—simply no idea. I suppose this is just part of what it means to be an INFP. Speaking of INFPs, I wrote a small series of funny quotes, showing things INFPs get up to that make others thing we’re, well, a little too “head up in the clouds” kind of men and women (or teenagers; I don’t think any children INFP read this blog, but then again, I could be wrong). So, here it is. I hope you like it.

Talk to things that shouldn’t be spoken to

INFP: “I think, dear pencil, that it is time for us to do some writey-whitey.”
Other people: “Is she talking to a pencil? She is talking to a pencil. I knew it. She is dumb-bat crazy, and weird.”

Get lost outside

INFP: “I am lost! I am alone in the wilderness, and I shall never find my way out again—I shall never see my family or friends—-this is an absolute disaster!”
Other people: “If you just cross that road, you’ll find yourself on the right street, and from there on, it’s only one more block until you’re back home.

Gets lost inside

INFP: “And I am certain it was this door!” *tries this door* *nothing happens* “No….I got lost again! I am doomed to wander down these corridors forever…”
Other people: “Just ask someone for directions! Or try to find the right door, to get to your classroom! Quickly, class will be starting soon!”
INFP: “But…but I have social anxiety…I don’t…want…to…interact…”

Can’t find anything
INFP: “Where is the tomato sauce, where is  the tomato sauce, where is the tomato sauce, where is the tomato sauce—“
Other people: “right here. Under your nose. Where it has been all the time.”

INFP: “Where is my phone, where is my phone….”
Other people: ‘RIGHT HERE.”

Thinks about someone who doesn’t even know they exist for too long
INFP: “We shared a moment. Our eyes met, across the bus seats, and….”
Other people: “No, he was a stranger, who you will never meet again, and who did not fall in love with you just because you made eye contact, you need to get your head out of those clouds and get a real boyfriend.”

Dances to music

INFP: *dancing* *weird moves are involved*
Other people: “I can’t…even…”

Is told that her dreams may not come true

Other people: “I was just trying to be realistic.”

Gets lost in daydreams

*the world ends* INFP: La..lalala….laalaaa…
Other people: Nobody put her in charge of the new civilisation.

Loves music so much she screams
INFP: *screams*
Other people: “What happened? Is it a spider? Are you alright?”
INFP: “No, I just love this song so much.”
Other people: “Of course.”

Loves books so much she screams

INFP: *screams*
Other people: “Look at her again, loving books so much. Ah. What a strange girl.”
INFP: *gets bitten by spider*

A Talkative House—Artistic Piece


I ate a lollipop the other day. After that, it came alive, and asked me if I was happy. I said, “No, I live inside my head everyday, and nothing feels right. What should I do to be happy?”

He said to talk to the pencil. So I picked up a pencil and talked to it, and it whispered in my ear things to do, like maybe try writing another story, or something like that, and if I would, pretty please, sharpen it more often, but I got sick of its mumbling, so I put it back down.

Then I thought to myself, what else should I do, who should I go for advice to? The clock seemed a sensible creature. I spoke to it, and it said, “The best way to find romance, is to put yourself in love’s way.” I punched the clock, and it made the glass crack, because I’d been searching all my life, and I still hadn’t found anything else, no handsome boys had come knocking on my door, so why don’t you shut the fuck up, clock-face.

Then I tried to eat something else, but the food started talking to me, too, and it said I needed to lose weight, the macaroni and cheese spoke to me, it told me to lose weight, I was beginning to develop a paunch, and how unsightly that was, for a lovely, little lady like myself. So I ate the macaroni—it screamed as it died in my mouth—and licked up all the cheese, and that was the end of that.

Every day, for that entire day, objects spoke to me: my hairbrush told me my black hair was too flat, and needed to be made into a more attractive cut, banknotes whispered of the riches they hoped I would make one day so I could plant trees and help starving children and do all the good I wanted to do in the world, and I threw the hairbrush into the sink and cut the banknotes up, letting it float like confetti onto the floor.

I went up to the old attic. I was alone, and scared. There was a skipping rope. There really was. I thought it was a snake at first, I was so scared, but there it was, lying in the shadows, a skipping rope. It spoke to me, in a springy sort of voice, about my childhood, and my father, and all the good old days, and I wished I could have cuddled it up. But there is something that nostalgia that stinks of old socks, so I knotted the skipping rope up, and put it in one of the old boxes.

Then I went back downstairs, and took a bath. The bath was a good bath. It had lots of bubbles in it. For just a little while, it was quiet in the bath, but then the water started mumbling to me, about all the soap suds contaminating it, and I had to pull the plug out, watching as the water all gurgled away.

I was very scared by this point. I thought I was going insane. Maybe I was. After all, in a normal world, objects do not speak to you. So I thought to myself, “Where can I go where nothing will speak to me?” Not the bedroom. Not the kitchen. Not the bathroom, or the living room; even the sofas and couches were speaking to me, calling me a lazy shit, hating on me for dropping cereal all over into its cracks and crevices that time I decided to eat the cornflakes out of the box. So I went outside, into the garden.

The garden spoke to me, but it was just unintelligible noises, so it didn’t matter. And then I looked up at the sky, and the moon was very big, and very bright, like a big, fat cheese I could maybe eat, and I thought, I should talk to the moon. So I poured my heart out to the moon, telling it how lonely I was, how I wish I could have someone to put their shoulders around me, smelling not of my mum or my sibling but a man, and I thought maybe, just maybe, I could maybe get my shit together enough to fulfil my dreams of becoming a full-time artist, and as I thought this, the moon seemed to smile down at me, as if to say, “Don’t worry, everything will be fine.”

When I went back inside, everything was quiet. Nothing was saying anything anymore. I went to bed, and the last thing I heard, before I went to sleep, was the clock. It said “Fuck you”, and then was silent.

“Nobody” The Song By A Dreamer



I’m no-one


And I’m talking about nothing

You say to me things

And I don’t hear a thing

For I am nothing but an empty book

Chorus 1

You see me go

And then you don’t

I live for the world

But I’m just a word

You want me to stay

But I won’t do that

Because I’m the invisible man, with just a hat

I once was somebody bright

But now the darkness stole the light

I wish for a better place to be

And not to live in disharmony

I wish you would hold onto me

But if you did, you’d end up catching me

And I’d rather stay in anonymity

Chorus 2

I want to be heard

But to be like a bird

Free from prying eyes

And those who darken your skies

You never know

What they might do

Could kill you

And take your heart, too


You will realise one day

That not everybody’s here to play

And not everyone is here to be with you and stay


I’m no-one

And I’m talking about nothing

You say to me things

And I don’t hear a thing

For I am nothing but an empty book

Click HERE to listen to the song.

A Small Piano Tune


Recently, I have been indulging in the more musical side of my personality; I am currently working on writing a song—I have a couple of songs already on this blog—and this one is a piano piece I put together. It is quite…unprofessional, to say the least, but I tried to just play whatever my heart wanted me to play, as someone who has little to no proper musical training. It’s just a little ditty I put together, and you can listen to it here, if you like: PIANO PIECE—SUNSHINE. Just click on the link, for a little nice music.

As for the song piece, that one has lyrics, and will take time for me to finish writing. But it’s always good to indulge in one’s creative side, especially for INFPs, no matter what the medium, even if the products of our work are lacklustre and not Oscar-worthy.

What have I been listening to? Lots of Taylor Swift, and Lorde. They are two brilliant, young women, and my absolute favourite artists, ever. There’s something about their work that just seems to sparkle very brightly, full of genius and feeling. I can’t describe it—and there’s a reason they’re so successful, they’ve got the magic touch, is all.

As for what else has been going in my life—not much, really. I have been working on a new book. It’s a secret, but if it ever get published in the future, I’ll be sure to let you guys know. Thank you, so much, for following this young lad’ys ramblings over the years—or, if you’re new to this blog, welcome! I write whatever I feel like, whenever I feel the need to, and at times, I have been absent for long periods due to illness (mostly depression), but I always manage to hop back onto my feet, and return to the blogging scene. It’s amazing that I have been doing this for around 4 years—looking back, I feel as though I have grown up, a great, great deal.

Also, I apologise for trying to change my name and call myself “Cordelia”. That really was a stupid thing to do: it didn’t feel right. I’m back to Anne now, and I am very happy. Sorry to all those who started calling me Cordelia—your good heart was very much appreciated.

I hope you are all well. There’s nothing like the beginning of the year to put some fresh spirits into some people. Soon, I’ll be back with another blog post, about…well, that’s a secret, too, but it’ll definitely feature INFPs as the main subject matter. I hope you all had a wonderful weekend, and are looking forward to the beginning of a new week. Bon chance.

Another Little Ramble


I sometimes wish, deep down, that there was something more to this world. That it was a little more like the stories in books, rather than reality.


I know what you’re thinking: darling, this is the second post in a row you’ve written about disliking reality, are you alright? Yes. I am. I don’t know why, but as I’ve grown older, I’ve become a lot more disillusioned with life. What is it that life holds? Holidays, shopping, family outings, children, work and school, dating and relationships? The only time I truly feel alive, is when I listen to music, or read books, or watch films: instantly, I am transported, to a magical and wondrous place.


Sometimes, I am afraid I am an awfully boring person. Then again, I do have a particularly vivid imagination, and I suppose it’s hard for an imaginative person to be entirely dull. Right now, I am at an employment agency close to where I live, trying to find jobs online—it’s a big job hunt, and I will be working in the age care industry, tending to the needs of elderly people, something that really does fulfil me. As a kind and caring person, I couldn’t ask for a more ideal job.


I guess I don’t know what I want. Every day, I wake up and write, and I do my best to hope for the possibility of getting published one day—even though that is easier on some days than others—but then, at other times, I am dejected, and bored, wanting some stimulation when I am not writing, or reading, or watching TV, wanting for real life to be magical and strange, beautiful and weird.


I want flowers to suddenly grow up from cracks in the pavement, and start talking to me. I think, if I said that statement aloud, in a group of businessmen or other logical people, they would probably heckle me out of the building. And I wish for more. I wish for a magical adventure to come swooping out of nowhere, and take me to the higher reaches of wonder; I would like to ride a rainbow, play babysitter to a child fairy, magically wave a wand and make things appear out of thin air, be swept off my feet by a handsome prince after we battle ferocious but easily defeated trolls. To eat jewels, and turn into a magical woman, capable of shimmering her way through life.


I don’t know what I’m trying to say. I should be looking for jobs—well, I am taking a break from it—but some part of me, deep inside, feels  so dissatisfied, it is screaming and throwing a little tantrum, thumping its fists against the sides of my heart. Why must the world be this way? Shouldn’t there be a little more excitement to life? A little more—pizzaz? I guess life, in many  ways, is still an adventure, and we’ll find out, soon enough, how things will pan out. In the meantime, I will keep living my boring little life, alive only in those moments when I read and write.

A Little Ramble


It’s a very good thing, to escape into fantasy sometimes. I really do think it is.
I don’t know what it is about it. Actually, well, I do: reality is just so, well, boring.
Magical lands. Magical creatures. Adventures. Romance. Beautiful clothes, jewels that can unlock doors.
What’s there not to like?
But lately, save for the odd book or two—like Torches in the Night by Sabir Tahir, and Strange the Dreamer by Laini Taylor—and the trailers for the video game Overwatch—I have been finding it very hard to find good, quality content. Is it just me, or are books and movies, at the ones written these days, less original? Why hasn’t there been another Harry Potter series, or a Charlie and the Chocolate Factory?
Anyway. That might just be me. Onto another topic. Boys. Just kidding. There are no men in my life; and to be honest, I’m not really ready for that kind of thing yet. This is just another ramble, from a certain dreamer, who longs for things sometimes, but, when faced with the reality of it, find it onerous and tiring. It is very tiring to be idealistic sometimes, it really is.
On a more positive note—I have been making good progress with my book. If it ever does get published, well, I don’t think I could ever make it public on this blog, because then my identity will be completely revealed, to the whole entire world—haha, as if; the likelihood of that happening is extremely low, nearly nil—and then I would be horribly embarrassed, and my publisher would probably take me off the list, deeming me ‘ruined goods’. Reputation is important, my friends, very important; and I’ve written an awful lot of private and strange stuff on this blog over the years, none of which can properly integrate with a professional identity. I hope you understand what I mean: that a private blog started when I was around 16 or so, shouldn’t be let out to the world, for people to analyze, should I ever write a book that does well. So. If you do ever make the link, in the future, between me and a published book, just send an email to , and I’ll confirm it for you. 😉
What else is there to talk about? Oh well. Nothing much, really. Happy near year, everybody! Really. And a merry Christmas, though I think I wished that to you all already in my last post. I hope you are all well, not physically, but more psychologically; if there’s something I’ve learnt over the years, it’s that happy people are much healthier than unhappy people. And if you are suffering under some great burden at the moment, for that, I am extremely sorry, and I reach out to you, and pray for you, and hope that God will do his good work, as he always does, and free you from your darkness.
That’s all from me, this New Year’s Day. I hope you all have a great day. Just kidding!
I feel like writing a little more. Let me see. Well. I have noticed that I kind of live in an airy-fairy reality whenever I spend a lot of time at home, reading or writing; I am in it right now, where I feel disconnected from the rest of the world, and the lives other people lead. I just lead my own life, lost in my own fantasy worlds; completely forgetting that, for instance, somewhere on the other side of the world, some student is struggling with her exams, or a family in America or somewhere is sitting down to a New Year’s lunch, laughing and talking. The reality of other people’s lives, for me, is somewhat frightening: they seem so lovely, and normal, so steady and grounded, that I feel as though I have no place in it. It’s a strange thought, but it is true. Ah well.
Now, this really is the end. Happy new year. May your life be filled with lots and lots of musical, literary and cinematic magic.