"What ever happened to happy, carefree, shit-faced moods, damnit!!?"
"They aren't poetic."
".. Oh.."
I may not be very important.
I might not be intellectually genius. I might not be astoundingly pretty. I may not do everything perfect. I might not be the most organized person in the word. I'm not the sweetest, kindest, most compassionate, tender, wonderful woman there is. My homor could use a little work. My temper could use a little work. I'm a pessimest. I'm not perfect. But I do know one thing.
One day, I am going to be a great mother.
And, god damnit, my children are going to have a great father.
And if that's the only thing I do that has any merit in this world, so what. I'm happy to say that that's the most important thing I could ever do.
Damn.. Maybe people should take a moment to think about the good things in their lives more often.. We all get so angry, so easily. So frustrated, so easily. So upset, so depressed, so dramatic. Everyone has their problems. Things go wrong. Bad things happen to good people. But that means that there are good people, doesn't it? I read some graffitti on the wall at school today that said, "The only constant in life is death" in big, black, scrawling emo letters. And I thought to myself, no, the only constant in life is life. Look around yourself. Go outside for a walk and take a moment to think of all the beautiful things that are there. Life is the air, it's the grass and the trees and the smiles, even the frowns, the dogs barking and the cars rushing by.
Have you ever wondered what those people are rushing to? Rushing for? Ever thought about what that person's life might be like? Or does it even matter to you?
On another subject, I've been reading a book today. And it makes me wonder, are people really like this? Do mothers really not care? Do fathers really have affairs? Do children really cry this hard? How can that be? Who would want that type of life, when there's so much out there? There's knowledge, freedom, coffee, and wonderful people who will love you, and so many other things. Why would anyone choose to burn themselves down into a little hole of an existance so open to pain, so hurting others.. I want to tie these fathers to their chair and lecture them until their ears bleed, I want to burn these mothers' money and their expensive nicknack that's so important to them and show them what their child made of macaroni and glue in class today, I want to read these children books and give them cookies and watch them watch disney movies and make messes and be loud for no reason, other then the fact that they can.
Some people make me so very sad.
So.. For dinner tonight, after not having anything for breakfast or lunch, I had a couple pieces of pinapple, and a slice of canalope. Half a potatoe, and a couple crackers. Some interesting sort-of-like-h
I feel apart today. This morning. It was so strange. One moment happy and feeling good, and then the next thing I know I'm just screaming and frantically pulling at my razors, sobbing and refusing to acknowledge the banging on the bathroom door, my grandparents telling me to unlock it. I couldn't do anything but cry and slash my fingers to hell trying to open the damn razor and get the metal out. My grandfather actually started to kick the door in before I gave up and heaved it open, running into my bedroom. My mind kept reeling, kept telling myself so many horrible things, with each breath I just sobbed harder, I couldn't see or hear and I couldn't think. What really tore me up was Ilie. That's all that was in my heart, over and over in my mind, all those terrible things and him. I don't understand myself. I collapsed on the floor and couldn't stop crying, an hour, two, I don't know. All these emotions finally flooded in and every one of them made me feel worse. Worse and worse and worse until I realized I was just laying there, shaking, I couldn't cry anymore. Whimpers and hitched breathing and moans, that was all I was capable of. I was a mess, and my grandparents weren't helping. You have to go to school. You have to. You can't do this. Don't be so dramatic. You have to go to school. I don't understand you. You have to go to school. Get up. Get up. Get up get up get up. They finally left me alone. I hated myself. I actually fell back into that old feeling, that .. disgust with myself. I just wanted to die. I never wanted to face anything. And that made me feel like a coward. Which only made me want to die more. I was sick of everything. The only thing I have I keep fucking up. Things are such a mess. I found solice in Balto.. I grabbed him and just held him to me for a while.. I think I would have passed out had my grandmother not come in to tell me to again stop acting like such a dramaqueen and to get up.. I did. And I drove with grandpa to school. And I went to my first class. I feel so horrid. I want to tear my hair out and make God tell me why I feel so horrid. Why I fell apart. Because I fell apart today. And it's been so very long since I've felt this bad. I can't even really give it a reason, other then Kory. But I'm not going to blame her. This was entirely me. Ilie, I hope you can forgive me. I'm going to go eat something now.. I think something in my stomache will stop this nausious, queasy feeling.
I am in an incredibly bad mood.
Scorching acid rain falls from boiling red and black clouds, each ebon streaked drop cutting across her skin, burning through the flesh, leaving twisted gashes down her upturned face. Rivulets of crimson stream from her ruined body. Feathers hiss and smoke, beauty destroyed, and the dirt ground becomes a bloody puddle. She collapses to her knees, the bones of her fingers clutching her dissolved face. Juts of jagged bone stick from her back as the last of the pain drizzles down upon her, delving deeper into her torment. Muscles are torn, melted, all but gone. She is an open wound, raw, staring from gaping holes out across the bitter hills before her. And all she feels is agony.
Nothing all too important to say. I just feel rather restless. Like I need to change things. I'm thinking about rearranging my bedroom, but there are so many things in here that belong to my grandparents, and I'd rather not move those things.. Plus, how else would my huge bed fit in this room? In fact, that bed is a little intimidating. Anyways.. I may just delete my whole ET bio, start over again. Maybe I'll start up some new and extremely strange hobby, only to loose interest. Maybe I'll just sit here bored for another three months. Gee, what a life. But hey, at least I'm not being yelled at, eh? I got away, only to find that I'm still bored, and depressed. Then again, I'm almost always doing things. Busy busy busy, when I'm not practicing something or cleaning something or doing homework, I'm reading or drawing. Then why this restless feeling? Why do I find myself sitting here staring at the screen, wondering what the hell have I done to myself? It's probably just a phase. That's what they always say about teenagers, when a teenager's feelings get too hectic. 'Oh, that's just normal. That's just a phase. That's just what happens. Hormones.' Hey, you know what? We always have names for something.. Like, once I'm an older woman, if I still have problems, they'll be blaming my childhood, or if I get moody it'll be because it's 'that time of the month'. Well, fuck, what if I'm just moody? Can't I have a day in my life where nothing is going right, everyone is telling me what I don't want to hear, and I'm not alright, without someone blaming my emotions on some phase or hormones or blood? Damn.. I suppose that's just what everyone does, though. I'm ranting about life, aint I? Whoops. Being yelled at to leave. Bye everyone.
I believe in false emotions
Fake feelings
Made-up excuses
Independent ignorance
The fall of an independent woman
I believe in comfortable silences
Warm whispers
Tender words
In the heat of passion
The passionate yelling of an argument
I believe in invisible wounds
Exaggerated pain
Abused confusion
Emotional devistation
Paranoia to a paradox of abnormal thoughts
I believe in innocence
Naive loyalty
Fragile vulnerability ~~~~~ This is unfinished, for my enlgish thingie, have to have it done by tonight, and I'm just kind of pulling it out of my ass as I go. But I have to leave the school computer right now and have no way to save it, so I'm going to stick it into my diary here for now.
I had .. a nightmare. I havn't had a ... /bad/ nightmare, in a while.. Over a month. Most of them are the same, twisted flashbacks, black and white pictures of dead bodies, the feeling of being chased when I can't even move, things such as that. But this, this was a story. A family. A family that moved into a old, beautiful house. I watched them, it seemed like I really knew them. Their older son, their younger daughter, their single mother. I watched them like you'd watch a movie, only it was inside my head. Like I was there, but I couldn't effect anything, touch anything, tell anyone, so really, not there at all.
The old house was single story, but it was large, smooth, wood floors, rugs laid beneath the furnature, elegant arches and big, detailed doors that never made a sound, and always stayed open. The family room, living room, kitchen, all the newest one could get, the fake burning fire place, the shinning three door fridge, the maple cuboards with glass in the middle, pretty designs and pretty furnature and a pretty little family. The other three bedrooms were much the same, walls painted lavender and blue and green, mixed in shady patterns, the floors covered with squishy carpet. Off of each bedroom, they had their seperate bathrooms, just as nice and neat and it really doesn't matter so I wont descibe it.
But there was one bathroom, one that was like .. tiled floors with a long, narrow, empty tub, rusted .. broken, auqa tiles climbed up and made the edges of this tub, making it square and more like a really small pool, set up from the ground, yet inside was marble, and it sat in the middle of the room, there was no sink, no toilet, no cabnet, and on that bathtub there was only one faucet, a dark metal, that came from the side of the wall. There was a room off to the side of this one, a bedroom, with sheer fabric, a dusty rose, that fell over the doorway. Curtains, a light rose colour, night really pink, but not just red, hung over the large windows to the right, and a cheerywood dresser, bulging in old age, knots and lines that slid through the pretty wood, decaying it, and broken pieces that littered the creaky, dusty, floor. It stretched across the room to the far side, where a king sized bed was pushed to the wall. Here, too, the rosey curtains were, falling from the warped, black metal that stuck up as bedpoles, that crawled under the dark ceiling, holding the sheets as they fluttered in the none existant wind.
Sounds like a horror movie filled with cliche, just like the rest of that junk.
I could go on about the way the roof leaked rusted red in that pretty family room, or how no one noticed that for years the "little" girl grew more and more interested in that bathroom and adjoining bedroom, about the fact that every animal they tried to raise there died, every man the mother tried to bring home to meet the children gave excuses not to come.. But I will skip to the good part.
The boy is dead. Although, no longer a boy. In fact, not a boy at all. 20. 8 years they'd spent in that house. No one had found his remains. No one except me. I watched him die. I watched him fight for his life while the extremely ICKY THING in the bathroom tore him up. I can still picture the .. ung, I wont go on. This isn't a book. just a recounting of my dream-- but no one else could see him. No one could see the blood, splashed on the floor like some diseased paint. They went about their own ways as though they'd never had a son, brother.. For months, it was the same, no one realizing..
But as I said earlier, that little girl was not so little anymore, in her opinion. She was getting to that age that she thought she would always be right, that she knew everything, that she was able to handle herself. She wasn't afraid of spiders, let alone some smelly old room that her mother never went into. Wearing a simple, cotten nightgown that fell to her knees, she decided that night she was going to sleep on that big, comfy looking bed, in the pale rose coloured room.
Now, this thing, that lived in that room, that sulked in that bathtub, he was like ... horrendous. His skin was pulled back and shiny, like a giant scar, with the blue veins sticking out and the tendons throbbing, his silvery, whispery hair fluttering around his willowing shoulders, in .. kingly garb, I've no idea why, crimson, velvet tunic, pale black, greying trousers with silver seam, swirling designs in darker reds and yet, no shoes or gloves. But he was wearing a head-dress. Gold wires, only slightly thicker, with twisted gold flowers.. But the girl, the mother, hadn't seen him, had no idea he was there, stupid oblivious people.
Anywho, the girl meets him, he latches onto her, and attacks her, which means: he grabs her arms in his massive and creepy, spidery-like hands, and kisses her. Thing is, she likes it. Innit that .. so fucked up? I sit there and watch this THING /kiss/(more like .. maul mouths?) in my DREAM.. Now, it's not that bad, but just icky. I have to wonder, where does this come from?
Anywhosies, they spend a relaxing night in bed kissing, and he listens to her talk, talk about school and her backstabbing friends and her horrible mother that makes her clean the dishes and her laundry, and it's just /horrible/, you know how us teens can be. In the morning, after not much sleep, she wakes up to find him gone, the lingering of his cold, smooth skin against hers gone, even the image of his deep, hard, blue green eyes gone from her mind. Oh, she can remember him, of course, so after that day of doing her normal things, she goes back. And, of course, he's there. It goes on like this for a while. I think he falls in love. But she, she gets vicious. She wants more. She's a little preppy bitch who has discovered how nice it feels to be adored. So, in my DREAM, she /screws/ this /creature/! I mean! What the HELL! My imagination really has gone wild with this one! How something that .. dead.. and that .. icky, could even have sex, is beyound me. And I am not even going to tell you the details of this. Disgusting. and extremely weird.
Anywhosies.. she gets rather violent and sex crazed. She starts treating him horribly. I mean .. where before, she was soft spoken and smiling and sweet and caressing his abnormally smooth cheek, now she's threatening him with broken bottles and trashing his dresser and dumping animal's blood in his empty bath and throwing glasses in his bed, crazy things like that. Now, I don't show much pity to this guy, because beneath his feelings of "love"(lets just call them that..) he ripped up her brother for no reason except for the fact that he left a silver chain in the bedroom when he was exploring, I didn't tell you that, did I? This thing, guy, .. king? he doesn't like silver. The metal. But the colour attracks him. He touches it, it burns, almost like some other fantasy creatures*HINT
But BACK TO THE STORY
One day, she comes home with someone. Yes, you heard me right. And a guy someone, at that. He watches from the shadows of his room, as he always has, his secret, being able to spy on the whole of the house. He watches them, as they hang out, talk, kiss. It boils the blood that normally he'd save for an erection (-laughs-). So, of course, after some passing flashes of the guy leaving, her mother and her having dinner, you all know how dreams are, she meets him again. He smiles, his pale lips, wide and thin, spread to her as he guides her into the his bathroom, the tiled floors and the wooden walls, and he kills her. Of course. Only it's slow.. torture. Painful. And I watched it. >< again. I am so sick of that, you think I'd get used to dreaming about it but God it hasn't happened in a while.. There's more to this part, but you wont be able to understand it until I tell you about the Mother. I remember this next part most vividly, because it was the last before I woke up..
The mother walks through the house, a dazed expression on her lovely, slightly wrinkled face, wondering why she is all alone, fragmented memories of smiling, happy children, of divoces she can't quite remember, of moving to a house she's never seen, of sleeping in a rose coloured room.. Confused and saddened by these thoughts, she wanders the halls for days, trying to understand what had happened to her. She's always drawn back into the tiled bathroom, cold, dark, damp, the only place in the house that wasn't touched when it was restored. She had asked, of course, but all they could tell her was it was a special place, not to be bothered, if you buy the house you buy those rooms. Rooms, they had said. Rooms? She was always drawn back into the tiled bathroom.
So she finally gives in, and walks towards the bathtub in the middle of the room. She leans her hip against the edge of the tub, and runs her fingers through the murkey, blue and green water. Of course, evil demon thing lunges out of the water, grabs her and pulls her in, turns her around, and holds her to him under the water. Picture this.. you see him, holding her, his arms wrapped around her, clutching her to him, his dark eyes staring up, her brown hair floating about in the water, her simple jeans and black shirt thick and wet, but picture her face as she, too, looks up towards the ceiling. She sees, carved in what looks to be ivory with marble accents, the form of a twisted, gangly body, in flowing robes over tunic and trousers, piecing eyes staring back down, holding onto a mangled girl, naked, toes gone, long slashes down her tighs and across her breasts, fingers gone, empty eye sockets and jagged hair, his hand clutching a single rose to her. They lay in what looks to be a long, narrow tomb, a grave, much like what the bathtub looks like. Imagine seeing that carved in marble and ivory in the ceiling of your house. What looks to be red is spattered over the ceiling, as though it was the floor. Now, consider, she's seen all of this in only a few seconds. He rises from the water, still holding her to his chest, and he steps from the bathtub, then lets her drop to the floor. She lands in what was her son. The bloody, gory mess of his remains. She glances over her shoulder to watch him lift her daughter from the water, watch her head loll to the side, watch the dead, staring, empty eye socks as they watch her. Watch the blood, as though it were fresh, fall from her open, gaping skin.
Ending picture:
Massive shoulders, whillowy body held together by stretched muscles and covered in fancy, yet old, clothing, long, whispy grey hair falling across a stretched, pale face, spider veins and throbbing tension in his neck, temples, a crown of kings resting over his brow. He holds to him the corpse of a beautiful young girl, her hair jagged and cut short in some places, rugged, her eyes gone missing and her cheeks no more then hallows in her empty face, her body thin and torn into, bleeding over his knotted and dirty feet. An older woman, collapsed in the blood of her son, sobbing in shock and agony at the creature that stands above her, horde of her home.
Then I wake up. Now, there is no way I could ever make that anywhere near a frightening or as horrible or as detailed as it was in my head. I can't write, so I can't begin to make it into a story. Maybe someday I should make a movie out of it. It was rather jumpy and slightly confusing, but so very detailed and /real/ seeming. Bleh. Stupid imagination..
GASP. I have ... Boots. Yes, you heard be right. I have boots! .. no.. not my cat. Well, damn, now I miss my cat. Oh well. I have boots! Real, leather, nice, knee high, BOOTS. Oh my frecking gosh! I've never had nice boots before.. I got some snow ones once, and it was pretty awesome, because they were so soft and nice and the inside was all fluffy and all.. but these ones have a /heel/. A two inch, skinny, sleek, /heel/. Wow. -sway- I figure, because I havn't ranted for a while, I shall today! It's nine in the morning, and .. I'm high on coffee? Is that a good enough reason?
You know, one day, I am going to finish a drawing. I mean, with a background, and a floor, and.. /clothes/, because.. I have it in me. I know it's in there, somewhere. Drawing nude people in random poses if fun, but just not as fullfilling as a completed, pretty, /good/ drawing. I got some wonderful art things this Christmas, people heard I like art and they latched on with a viciousness that sort of frightened me.. but whatever! I can draw trees now! See! I will post a drawing with a person and a tree! But, to make the person Lethia..? Oooor.. some other random person.. if I make it Lethia, then I will have to draw wings, and if I want to finish this drawing, then I will have to take the painstaking time to make the wings look wonderful. Which I will do. But if I draw someone else, i can be creative.. and... just totally make it into madness.. yes, that sounds good. I'll draw the tree with twisted branches, and then I'll draw .. Madness. Yay! Great idea's strike while writting a diary entry! But first, to take care of the urge to change my page around. Hmm.. -runs off to tweak with things-
What to say what to say.. not that any of you will read this, because we're all sick of hearing eachother complain. Then we turn around and complain, and bitch when people care. I understand. I feel the same way. Some days, I just want to scream at people to move on, to try harder, to have faith in yourself, and then I have a bad day, and all I want is to complain and have people care. Isn't that horrible? Then again, at least I'm trying to fix my life. It really bothers me when people choose to be in bad situations because they wish it were different. At least I had a way out, and I took it. Now things are better. But I'm confused.. because it seems I'm still depressed. I'm doing my best, honestly, I'm working and trying and doing well, I've been at my best behaivour, always so very polite and respectful and quiet, always listening and nodding and putting on a very convincing smiling and being such a good student, good granddaughter, good.. everything. But it's getting to me. I'm beginning to hate car rides. Everytime I'm in the car, I get into a discussion with someone about my life. About before I was born. About my father and mother. About depressing things that make me feel like breaking something, because I'm so tired of crying. But I listen and I nod and I act like nothing bothers me, because I'm mature enough to handle everything these people throw at me. And I am. Everyday, they bring up my relationship with my father, bring up memories about me growing up, about my mother in highschool, and everyday we talk about drugs and abuse and hate and pain. And then Ilie stands on his hands in view of the webcam, his legs flailing about, his shirt over his head, and I laugh as though none of that happened. I forget about everything, everyone, and I laugh, I'm happy. Thank you for that, Ilie.
Thank all of you. Rachel, Pearl, Gianna, Amber, Katie and Clare, Ariel you were such a wonderful friend for so long, Ilie, Ashden, Rene, Cynthia, Allen.. You all make me so very happy. You're my home. My safety. I love you all, very much. Thank you.
Right, so, for all you people who've been pestering about phone number and adress, here they are, Pearly, feel free to send me anything that you don't want to send to the boyos yourself, I can take care of it for you. Gianna, you promised to send me things, I'll be waiting to get these things, like a real picture of you and Theo together! Rachel.. just call me, I miss you all very much.
Adress: 340 SE Spokane St.
Portland, OR 97202
Phone #: 503-236-6486 (at least they think it's that)
If anything happens, any emergency, or you just want to hear my lovely voice, hahaha, give me a call, I'm rather busy right now what with school, piano lessons, tennis lessons, but I love you all and will probably call you soon, myself. Ilie, gimmie your shirt. -laughs- Have a happy holiday-ish-th
. : Sheryl Crow - I'm a Bitch : .
I hate the world today
You're so good to me, I know
But I can't change
I tried to tell you but
You look at me like maybe
I'm an angel underneath
Innocent and sweet
Yesterday I cried,
Must have been relieved
to see the softer side
I can understand why
you are so confused
I don't envy you
I'm a little bit of everything
all rolled into one
I'm a bitch, I'm a lover,
I'm a child, I'm a mother,
I'm a sinner, I'm a saint,
I do not feel ashamed,
I'm your hell, I'm your dream,
I'm nothing in between,
You know you wouldn't want it any other way
So take me as I am
this may mean you'll
have to be a stronger man
rest assured that when
I start to get you nervous
And I'm going to extremes
Tomorrow I will change
and today won't mean a thing
I'm a bitch, I'm a lover,
I'm a child, I'm a mother,
I'm a sinner, I'm a saint,
I do not feel ashamed,
I'm your hell, I'm your dream,
I'm nothing in between,
You know I wouldn't want it any other way
Just when you think
You got me figured out
The seasons already changin'
I think its cool
You do what you do
And don't try to change me
I'm a bitch, I'm a lover,
I'm a child, I'm a mother,
I'm a sinner, I'm a saint,
I do not feel ashamed,
I'm your hell, I'm your dream,
I'm nothing in between, You know you wouldn't want it any other way
I'm a bitch, I'm a lover,
I'm a child, I'm a mother,
I'm a sinner, I'm a saint,
I do not feel ashamed,
I'm your hell, I'm your dream,
I'm nothing in between,
You know you wouldn't want it any other way
I'm a bitch, I'm a tease,
I'm a goddess, on my knees,
When you hurt, when you suffer,
I'm an angel under cover
I'm a nunI'm revived
Can't say I'm not alive
You know I wouldn't want it any other way
~~~
I like this song, have liked it for a while. It describes me pretty well.
Okay, so, I arrived safely in Portland and am getting used to some new.. odd.. things. I'll have more time to talk all about it later, but now, as the computer with the internet connection is in my grandparents bedroom, and it's 10:44, and they kinda wanna go to sleep... Anyways, missing everyone already, the thought of being away very hard on my mind tonight. Take care.
MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE LYRICS
"I Never Told You What I Do For a Living"
Stay out of the light
Or the photographs that I gave you
You can say a prayer if you need to
Or just get in line and I'll grieve you
Can I meet you, alone
Another night and I'll see you
Another night and I'll be you
Some other way to continue
To hide my face
[Chorus:]
Another knife in my hands
A stain that never comes off the sheets
Clean me off
I'm so dirty babe
The kind of dirty where the water never cleans off the clothes
I keep a book of the names and those
Only goes so far 'til you bury them
So deep and down we go
Touched by angels, though I fall out of grace
I did it all so maybe I'd live this every day
[Chorus:]
Another knife in my hands
A stain that never comes off the sheets
Clean me off
I'm so dirty babe
It ain't the money and it sure as hell ain't just for the fame
It's for the bodies I claim and lose
Only goes so far 'til you bury them
So deep and down we go
Down
And down we go
And down we go
And down we go
And we all fall down
I tried
I tried
And we'll all dance alone to the tune of your death
We'll love again, we'll laugh again
And it's better off this way
And never again, and never again
They gave us two shots to the back of the head
And we're all dead now.
Well never again, and never again
They gave us two shots to the back of the head
And we're all dead now.
Well I tried
One more night
One more night
well I'm laughin' out, cryin' out, laughin' out loud
I tried, well I tried, well I tried,
'Cause I tried, but I lied
I lied
I tried
I tried
I tried
And we'll love again and we'll laugh again
We'll cry again and we'll dance again
And it's better off this way
So much better off this way
I can't clean the blood off the sheets in my bed
And never again, and never again
They gave us two shots to the back of the head
And we're all dead now
Right, so. Today, Rach and I skipped the Con to go down to Namaska, this cute, quite, awesome little store. We bought some tea latte's, ate some sandwhiches, and read about our sex life. No, no, not really. Only slightly. There are tons of wonderful books down at Namaska, especially Astrology books, and I've always found astrology to be nearly right on the money, amazingly enough. I figure, if half of the world would read this stuff, most of the problems with couples and relationships wouldn't be.. a problem! So many things were right with Rachel and I, in this rather specific book called.. Stars and Signs, or something like that.. but it was very detailed, telling all about the life of the Cancer and the Leo. Which is me and Rachel. It was all very interesting. Saddly, it was only a book on women. What was most annoying, though, was that most of all the things we read about Rachel I had already known, but /my/ life as a Cancer was just SO amusing, because Rachel knows next to nothing about those type of things in my life. Because.. I'm that way.. as are most Cancers. All I'm saying, is that.. more people should read astrology! Especially guys, /ESPECIALLY/ guys. I mean.. if they knew even a quarter of the correct things in these books.. it would make so many things easier in relationships! I'm tempted to go out and get all of my guy friends books about their girlfriends/cr
Now, my opinion on horoscopes are completely different.. half of them are complete crap.. but that's just my view..
And, just to frighten you all, Rachel bought me chocolate body paint today! GWEE!! -giggles and paints yummy chocolate all over her finger and sucks it off- Er, hehehehehehheh
..I think I'm done now.. lets hope.
I.I hate her.. I can't believe that she.. Please, someone, take me away from this place, how could any parent do that to their child..? How can she.. make me want to just kill myself, just like that, after all the things that.. after feeling so good, after getting better and happy and.. and here I am wishing that I could just slice or swallow and I hate her. I HATE her. I want nothing more then to just run away, leave her, leave this.. but I need you, Ilie, Derek, Rachel.. I need you, Pearl.. You are who matter.. I couldn't take her screaming.. she was.. screaming.. and I just kept begging her to stop, please, just stop it, she wouldn't listen.. I was begging her, pleading, crying, sobbing, I just wanted her to go away.. she wouldn't stop screaming at me.. and then she left, and came back.. and now she's just sitting there, on the couch, smoking some drug and.. I hate her. I can't do this. I can't do this, not without any of you.. no one is here, no one can.. do anything... I'm just sitting here, feeling what she said burn into me and having to breath what she's making me.. I can't.. Please, someone, help me.. Make me smile again.. I liked that, so much.. I was happy, I was enjoying it.. I didn't mind so much that Ilie made me giggle, or Derek snuggled me and I felt..loved.. but... please, make her stop, she wont stop screaming at me.. I'm shaking, shivering, sobbing.. I just need someone, anyone, please make me better again... please...
Oh, hell yes, do you know what is even better then Japanese?
Buna seara, cemai faci? And because Ilie and Ashden refuse to invata-ne mai mult(us being Pearl and I) I don't know more to add to that little greeting. But I DO know,
Mi-e foame which I am, and
Maimuta custe ruiz
Sunt o clatita. Varog mancati-ma.
Nu stiu(I don't know) if that's right though, beacuse her hand writing is really hard to read when I'm this tired.. so if it's wrong.. shoot me. And bloody teach me more already! Ilie! Tell Ashden to teach me more. Because you wont. Because you're mean. Because I say so. Weep, I want more Romanian. I need like.. a Romanian to english dictionary, that would be sweet, I'm so dragging Pearl to Hastings this weekend, or maybe Barn's' and Noble's'.. Don't ask. But that and a sketchbook would simply be wonderful. Ooh, can't wait until I get my hands on the language thing, I'll be speaking Romanian in months(even if it's only in fragmented sentences, heh, who needs to speak like a sane person? I don't). If only I can find it here, they don't seem to have it in any stores..
Today was just an exhasting day. And we didn't even do anything, really. I really need to go back to drinking coffee in the morning, just because some people don't like it doesn't matter if I can't function properly because I'm so damn tired. I still havn't called Pearl, and I said I would.. Uhng. ...the worst part is being female. I mean, come on, like I have enough on my mind! Now I'm in PAIN here, owie. I was going to rant, but I'm just too bleh to think of the words to rant about. Do I rant about school, if so, what about school, the boring-ness of the first week, the annoying-ness of the imature people there, the bitchy-ness of the preppies, or do I rant about home and work and this or that. Or I could rant about ranting, rant about how all ranting is is bitching and complaining about something or making some huge deal over something small or little to make a point. Ranting may be fun for the person going on and on and on, but most people who sit there and listen-- ...ranting about ranting is complaing for no reason. And now I'm done. Good night.
OH! The best part about today!
Konbanwa, Hajimemashite? Watashi wa Jessica desu. Itadakimasu nashi, ii desu ka? Eto.. Hai, soo desu doomo arigatoo gozaimasu. Sumimasen, oyasumi nasai. Hai, imasu. Jane!
-quietly- Seeing her diary.. seeing those... cuts, they were so deep.. I felt so disgusted with myself.. -shudders violently- Why do people do that.. how can you slip that blade over your skin and watch it gape open, watch the blood bead in a little ball of red and then stream down your arm... why not read a good book, call a friend.. I.I can't believe.. it's just so terrible.. how could I have done that to myself? Hurt myself like that? I feel sick to my stomach.. It's hidious. The scars wont fade for years yet. The pictures that she has up, it's.. gods, it's just... How could I have ever been stupid enough to do that to myself? I've learned that to be able to heal, I have to be strong within myself, and I have to be able to deal with things, to except things, to understand and move on. I wasn't able to do that for a long time.. and those, aahg, all that blood.. my hands are shaking so hard.. I need to go lay down to get some sleep, but I can't stop seeing it in my mind. Why do people put themselves through that shit? Damnit. I was so happy.. I was so happy. -sighs-
Scattered bits of Poetry that all mean the same thing, in the end..
This velvety rush.
The overwhelming crush
Of Pain.
These feelings make my vision sway.
Or is that the blood I've lost this day?
Don't worry, love,
It'll all be okay.
That's what you say,
That's what you always fucking say.
But I know better, from the bottom of my heart.
You say those words to rip me apart.
And while I try to love you, too,
So /many/ /things/ tell me not to.
Not to chance it,
Not to believe,
That once in my life things might fucking change.
You always ask,
'Why so afraid?'
I'm sick of being used,
Memories, torture, everyday.
I can never trust anyone, anymore.
They always fuck up.
Who cares about a crazy whore?
~
If I were laying, dead and bleeding,
Would you scream,
Or take to feeding?
Help me, Help me,
My dull eyes say
But would you turn and run away?
Would you leave me
Because you're afraid?
Leave me to die,
Or rip me apart.
Drink it from my bleeding heart.
Either way, I guess I'm screwed.
Bet that's just what you wanted to do.
~
Tie me in a ribbon red,
Lay with me upon my bed.
Place me in a glowing dress,
To show me to your every guest.
I'm nothing but your fucking treasure,
Locked within my sunkin chest.
~
Screw me.
Fuck me.
Make it hurt.
Make me yours.
Make this work.
This messed up way,
The things we do,
All because you want to screw.
Pretty, sexy, fucked up bitch.
Hold me close,
But still I'll flinch.