A tall girl in a long cotton under dress is doing solo drama for her friends, who are sitting or reclining in front of her on thin pallets layed on the hard wooden floor. This is their entertainment for the night, watching their tall, dark haired, humorous friend relate her Master's talks with her about his lover. The girl seems to concentrate harder for a split second, and then before the other girls' eyes, stands the Word Master himself! He is tall, but with a lean frame and sharply cleft ears, marking his elvish heritage. He has a bearing and stance which radiates power, which also shows his royal blood. His deep brown eyes, set exactly right into his perfectly cut face, are a bit dreamy and romantic, making the girls laugh quietly. They had now known before that this man had a lover...or that he was so young. Older than them, of course, but from the way his student spoke, they had thought of him as an older man. Then to top this surprise, the Word Master began to speak. In deep, yet soft tones that spoke of fond memories, he said "In that moment, time stopped and stood still. It was just me, her and the stars. No parents to bother us, no leaving, just me and her. The thought of just kissing her gives me goosbumbs. After we kissed, I looked into her eyes and told her I loved her, and she said she loved me too. It was just one of the most romantic moments I've ever had. Then later, we were watching field of dreams on tv, we were laying on the couch in her basement, and she kinda fell asleep on me, I realized then I wanted to be in that same spot forever. It was awesome. Then we made out for like 45 minutes. So now she can never sit on that couch and not smile, and I can't watch field of dreams without smiling." The speech held the girls rapt; not one moved or made any noise, until the Master disappeared and the tall girl reappeared, smiling, and looking a bit tired. Then she was bombarded with questions as to who his lover was, how she had ever done that (from a few of the more knowledge seeking ones), if he had taught her that, if she would teach them, until the poor girl laughed and told them to shh, and she would answer more questions tomorrow. She was tired from that mind work and wanted to sleep. The girls obliged willingly, for telling them tomorrow meant the possibility of another story. Soon, everything was quiet; with all her friends asleep, the story-teller now had the peace and quiet to dwell on her own thoughts before she went to sleep on her thin pallet.
"it took alot. i was on the net from 9-12 most nights calmly listenign to every word an saying what i coudl to make her feel better. if she didnt answer at one point, i'de call her to make sure she was ok. it was a hard thing to do, but i learned alot from it, and am better off today becuase of it. what doesnt kill you makes your stronger.
"well when i was 13, i got up in a seriosuly bad relationship with a girl, it was only three months, but i still suffer the shockwaves to this day. to put it shortly, after dating my ex, i smoke, drank, and i'de fight anyone at the drop of a hat. i'm highly protective liek that. and i also had a thing for girls, when i met my gf now, i had like 2 others girls i was talking to. but when i met her and got serious about her, i knew to help her, i would have to clean house and change myself and how i lived. in those three months, and 3 after. i quite drinking, smoking , left the people i hung out with entirely, and focused my energy on her. its all becuase of her i am who i am today. it made me serious, taught me patience, endurance. i had to leanr these things to help her.i had to be patient, becuase i had to outlast her stubbornness. i had to endure becuase she wasnt totally faithful to me at the time, and i had to be strong becuase she depended on me for support. she turned my life around entirely. we've separated and rehashed old habits sometimes, but we're over it becuase we experienced the pain. there were nights i cryed my self alseep because i didnt think i could handle it anymore. but i was still there for her the next night no matter how i felt. i took a change and threw that life away for her, and it worked out. i havent drank since then, and i havent smoked since then. i still flirt with girls from tiem to time, but they know me and know its never serious."
The quiet girl called Annie, read this and almost cries, thinking, 'Will anyone ever have that much to say about me? Will anyone ever give that much up for me? Will I ever even deserve to have that much given up for me?' A tear or two drops onto the note, then she smiles. 'Oh well. I am happy for my friend!'
Ahh poor Annie. She's a friend of mine. Got that from her diary. She's a nice girl, but really lonely. I try to talk to her all the time, and be there for her, but I can't be on all the time. Poor girl needs a b/f, a caring good one. BTW, I have no idea who that thing above her personal note is from. Just on of the world's few nice guys left i suppose. It's good they're friends. I just feel so bad for her!
What am I to you?
A toy? A whore,
To come to when you're alone,
Then leave in the dark?
That's not fair.
All I wanted was for you to care.
I could point fingers,
Say "You started it!"
But I should have ended it then.
I knew this was how it would be,
Knew you'd pass right by me
Without stopping to glance
At the young girl
Who held you when you were cold,
Stayed with you when you were alone,
Tried to cheer you when you were down.
No, not now that you've got a proper girl,
One who would look down her nose at me.
You can't let her know about me,
Unless it's to call me one of your "mistakes",
And promise her you'll never do that again.
I was just your toy, your whore,
Something to make you feel better
Till you got a real lady.
I don't want to pity me
And say "Oh poor thing!
Let's give you some money,
Give you a hug, then send you off."
I don't mind being forgotten, really.
What I really want is love.
J. K. Maxwell
"everytime i describe her the words dont want to come out. when i try to describe how she makes me feel, theres so many words wanting to come out they jam the hole and stop the description, and all i can do is blush and smie"
A young girl clad in a cream-colored silk shift turns in a small room of the thatch hut she shares with other girls share, her dark hair swirling about her back. She has just finished telling her roomates of her Master's latest conversation with her: "And that, my friends, is what happens to even the Word Master when he falls in love!" She bows deeply, as the royal bards do, and amidst the laughing and clapping and talking, no one notices her freckled face take on a fixed look as she stares at another world, a world of thought. "Wouldn't it be nice to someday have someone feel that way about me?" she thinks.
Then one of her friends tugs her toward the fire so that they can all practice together, and she forgets the thought, happy to show off the sword she had made earlier and talk also of the boy she had met.
You see a girl in a dark brown short tunic and breeches to match standing by a swiftly flowing, winding river, doing what seems to be sword work. Except there's no sword. You ask her what she's doing and she stops and faces you saying, "Well, sword work of course! Are you blind?" You say that you can't see the sword. The girl laughs and replies "That's because I haven't made it real yet. Master Darius has told me to practice, and so as soon as I settle on the right sword, the right description of a sword, you shall see it. Because I shall draw it with words, and make it real." She says this with such confidence that you too believe it and stay to watch. After a while longer of swift slashes, quick parries, ducks and twists and smooth turns, the girl stops and stands still, with her eyes closed. Suddenly, right before your eyes, a sword begins to take shape. It is a beautiful sword, with a long blade that shines in the sun, made from an unknown metal, but having an altogether surreal appearance. The hilt is not very decorated; only two silver wolves, with glaring amethyst eyes and jaws open, looking ready to spring off the sword and right at you. The whole sword itself seems almost to glow with an irridescent light. The girl opens her eyes, and when she finds thatthe sword is still there, seems relieved and happy. "Finally I have made something hat stays long enough for me to practice with!" She looks at you. "It is a beautiful sword, is it not Sir?"
You can only nod, oversome by the amazing ability this girl has. You ask "Could I learn to do that?"
The girl grins and says "Well of course! Anyone with imagination can! Come, let me take you to Master Darius; he'll soon be teaching you too..."
So off the two of you walk down the path under the blossoming trees, she swinging her sword at her side, and you listening intently to all she tells you.
You see a tall girl sitting by herself by a lake, reading what seems to be a letter. As you watch, a tear falls from her dark green eye and lands on the letter. The girl crumples the letter up, and throws it into the lake, her shoulders heaving with silent sobs while her long brown hair creates a veil around her face. You don't want to intrude upon her privacy, so you quietly leave.
One Autumn day, you see the same girl again, standing on a bridge over the same lake with her hands tightly on the railing, staring deeply into the water with a pondering look. You think about going over and talking to her; she looks lonely. But again, you decide to leave her to herself, thinking 'She's probably just thinking.'
One cold December night, you're on your way home, and you see the girl on the bridge again. Her face is cold and pale. This time you don't even stop to think about her; it's freezing out, and you have a dinner to get home to. If she wants to freeze out here looking at the water, that's her choice.
The next day, while your reading the paper, you look at he last page and happen to see a small article with the girl's face above it. The article tells about how she had thrown herself off a bridge last night, killing herself. You stare in amazed horror, because you know that three times, you could have saved her. Three times. But instead, you walked on by. And now she's dead.
mhmh *walks into a large room filled with books, wearing glasses and a black robe* *looks down at self* whoops! i need to learn to control that a bit better! *glasses disappear and a long, floaty-looking
"God, I love your hair!"
I look up at him from setting the case down.
"It's so beautiful."
"Umm thanks! Yeah my beautiful hair!" I smile and laugh.
"Nice and long...just the way I like it...your hair that is."
I laugh a little. "Yeah me too, I guess." I flip my hair forward to look at it. "It's so perdy!" I laugh again.
Then we're both like "Umm, yeah..." so I start laughing because it's so out of a movie: the compliment, then the silence and trying to think of something to say, looking everywhere but at him. I double over laughing like a moron.
"Hey I said hair! I could've meant a lot of other things, but I was talking about your hair."
I'm still laughing
"Why're you laughing at me?"
"I'm not laughing at you"
"Then what are you laughing at?"
"Nothing, nothing." I walk over to the curb and study a plastic bag, then stand back up, still not looking at him.
He calls for his son, Eric then says "Well I'll see you Sunday then, if Eric ever get's over here..."
Yes, i know i'm an airhead. He probably just thinks i'm a "cute little kid" but whatever. I'm allowed to dream, for dreams keep me alive. Just so long as I don't try living this one. He did actually say that though. (or something along those lines; i can't remember everything you know)
in the morning he tells me. therefore i set my bloody alarm clock for bloody 7:40 in the bloody morning, and wake up tired as whatever, (i was up till 12:30 something), and now it't 9 and still nothing!!! blood and bloody ashes!!!
I see the rain and right now there is nothing better i can think of doing then singing along with my love and the radio.
I hear the thunder and there is nothing better i can think of feeling than my love's arms holding my securely to him.
I feel the storm and right now there is nothing that i feel except lonely.
yeah im super bored and for anyone who feels the same way, just fill it out and send it to me. whatever you say, i won't laugh and i always answer mesages so have fun!
Fill This out and Send it to Me!
1.Who are you?
2. Are we friends?
3. When and how did we meet?
4. Do you have a crush on me?
5. Would you kiss me?
6. Give me a nickname and explain why you picked it.
7. Describe me in one word.
8. What was your first impression?
9. Do you still think that way about me now?
10. What reminds you of me?
11. If you could give me anything what would it be?
12. How well do you know me?
13. When's the last time you saw me?
14. Ever wanted to tell me something but couldn't?
15. Are you going to put this on your house and see what I say about you?
ok i know that's kinda immature but whatever. as long as i can distinguish between immaturity and just being weird im ok.
if i could wish for anything, it would be that i would always say what i have in my head. that i could put feelings to words, so that people would understand. so that when i am trying to help someone, i don't sound the same as anyone else. cause i really care. i want to be a mentor when i grow up, not as a all time job, but as something for to do. or maybe work on one of those phonelines for people who need to talk to someone. i would love doing that because it's just something i feel...i should do. and i like helping people with their problems or just talking to them, trying to make them laugh or crying with them about it. i want to be able to listen as well as talk.
We went strawberry picking today and got like 14 buckets of strawberries. I got the juice all over my fingers and my shirt, but my motto for stains is: Even more pretty colors on my clothes! It was awesome, and the strawberries were so sweet and juicy! Now i get why in the songs and poetry, people always say strawberries taste like spring or summer. They do!me and my mom were wondering how the strawberries turn from green to red, and i was wondering what strawberry wine tasted like. I still am. that and how to make it. That would be something i should do someday: just grab a bottle of strawberry wine and go somewhere remote...a small bottle of course. I could have my own private "ivory tower" for a while. Anway, we have all agreed that we'll have to eat strawberries all the time and that we won't need more for about 2 years. We freeze some and then make jam out of others. The jam is sooooo yummy! it's the best jam in the world! it's not to sweet and you know it's made with only strawberries. There are even chunks of strawberries in it! it is the bomb!
i have promised myself not to be sad today, and it's working great! the strawberry picking helped, and sasha's in a very very very very happy mood, and i'm going to see Kingdom of Heaven tonight. so i can't be sad today!
over and out till later,
J.
"Did you know that those who spend their time protecting others are the
ones that really need some one to protect them?"
with this in mind, let us now think on this: the only people who are ever going to help you, need help more than you. really comforting isn't it? well, maybe you should try helping them, instead of looking to them for all the answers, all your protection.
"...I got up this morning and the first thing I did was check on her becouse she is scared of storms... I found her in a little ball in the back of the porch... I wish it was this mornibg so I can see her again"
-C. O. Hughes
about her dog, life, love, baby; Maple