wow it's been a long time sinc i wrote in this thing...it looks neglected :(. poor thing...well i don't really have that much to write in it now, either, but i figured i should put a little something. sander [~devils_child~], has like 12 friends...that's way more than i had when i was here for as short as she has been. no fair

Sometimes we let affection go unspoken,
Sometimes we let our love go unexpressed,
Sometimes we can't find words to tell our feelings,
Especially to those we love best...

that's awfully true...especially the part about "Sometimes we can't find the words to tell our feelings"...i feel like that all the time, cause words are useless to describe to someone how much they mean...

I see blood
I taste blood
I smell blood
I need blood
I see blood
I spill blood
I write with blood
I love blood
I feel blood
I know blood

Please, leave me be.
You've hurt me too many times
I want to be alone now
Please, just let me go
If you'd just go and be happy
I could go my own way
And be happy too
All by myself.
If only I didn't have to hide
This pain from you
But I do
Because hurting me
Knowing how I feel
Would hurt you
I want to scream
"You said you loved me,
You lied to me
More than once
You broke me up
You gave me heaven,
Then tore it all apart."
I want to forgive you,
I want to talk to you again
Like friends
But it's gonna take a while.
Please, let me go
If you just go away,
I can go away too.
I can forget.
I can be numb
I can die.

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A river runs softly through a forest, which is filled with tall, old trees. All is peaceful, and only nature's sounds can be heard; birds' songs, the occasional sound of a falling branch, the gentle rushing noise of the river itself. It is in the evening, and though it is summer, few bugs are out. It is a beautiful place, seemingly undisturbed by man.
Suddenly, the silence is broken by such a terribly sad and heart-wrenching noise, that even nature seems to listen. The sound is a sob, from a boy who has been sitting quietly, unnoticed, on the river's bank. The boy himself sticks out from the forest, with his red hair, black shirt and baggy pants. But the sound of his crying is an age-old sound that can be heard anywhere, from anyone.
The boy, though, is crying as though his heart had been ripped out, held up for the veiw of all, then broken in half and stuck back in, as a poor excuse for a heart. His sobbs aren't really that loud, but the feeling in them speaks louder than any amount of volume could. They speak of hurt, they ask questions: Why do my friends abandon me when I need them the most? Why couldn't they be there for me? Why does all this hurt, even though it's happened so many times? Will it ever not hurt? There's feelings of love, loving so deeply, and so purely, it was the perfect description of the word. But that love, that perfect feeling, it was cast away as though it had no meaning, as though it was worthless. The boy's crying tells it all, tells it all to the creatures of the forest, and they are really the only ones who would understand it. No one else would take the time to listen to this boys crying, he knows this. The only words he speaks are so broken, they're barely even words; almost just a feeling being uttered: "No one could ever know how this feels . How bad this pain is. No one."

A river runs softly through a forest, which is filled with tall, old trees. All is peaceful, and only nature's sounds can be heard; birds' songs, the occasional sound of a falling branch, the gentle rushing noise of the river itself. It is in the evening, and though it is summer, few bugs are out. It is a beautiful place, seemingly undisturbed by man.
Suddenly, the silence is broken by such a terribly sad and heart-wrenching noise, that even nature seems to listen. The sound is a sob, from a boy who has been sitting quietly, unnoticed, on the river's bank. The boy himself sticks out from the forest, with his red hair, black shirt and baggy pants. But the sound of his crying is an age-old sound that can be heard anywhere, from anyone.
The boy, though, is crying as though his heart had been ripped out, held up for the veiw of all, then broken in half and stuck back in, as a poor excuse for a heart. His sobbs aren't really that loud, but the feeling in them speaks louder than any amount of volume could. They speak of hurt, they ask questions: Why do my friends abandon me when I need them the most? Why couldn't they be there for me? Why does all this hurt, even though it's happened so many times? Will it ever not hurt? There's feelings of love, loving so deeply, and so purely, it was the perfect description of the word. But that love, that perfect feeling, it was cast away as though it had no meaning, as though it was worthless. The boy's crying tells it all, tells it all to the creatures of the forest, and they are really the only ones who would understand it. No one else would take the time to listen to this boys crying, he knows this. The only words he speaks are so broken, they're barely even words; almost just a feeling being uttered: "No one could ever know how this feels . How bad this pain is. No one."
Those words said, he buries his head in his arms and sobs more. Therefore he doesn't notice when a man walks up to him. The man sits down next to him, and when the boy looks up, their eyes meet and it's as though they were talking without words. 'So you think that no one has ever felt the way you have, son?'
The boy nods, 'No one understands this, they couldn't; they've never felt it.'
The man smiles sadly. 'You poor boy. You think you are so alone in this world. Let me tell you something about someone I know. This man he had friends, and they were all close to him. He had showed these people things about themselves, and taught them, and loved them. And they him. There were crowds of these people, and though all were equally dear to him, he had a few very special friends. These people did everything together; they traveled together, they fished together, they ate together, they hung out together. They did this every day of their lives. These people were very special to the man. He saved special things to tell them, and them only. They would ask him questions, and he them, about life, and love, and things like that. Words cannot even begin to describe the bond between these people.'
The boy broke in; 'But he had so many good friends. This is what I mean; no one knows how I feel. They all have a bunch of friends just like these, ones that they can share everything with without being stabbed in the back.'
The man just looked down at him and said 'I'm getting their boy, hold on.'
He cleared his throat and continued: 'Then, one day, while the man and his friends were camping out on a mountain, a mob came to get the man for something he had supposedly done. All of his friends knew he was innocent, yet all but one ran away. Later in the day, even that one friend lied and said that he didn't even know the man, that he hated him just as much as everyone else. So this man was alone, back-stabbed by all his friends, they had left him to face the mob by himself, to face everything by himself. He felt allone. Even the man's own father abandoned him, left him all alone out there. He felt such hurt, such pain in his heart, it was the greatest, most horrible pain ever felt in the world.' He looked down at the boy with such a caring gaze, the boy forgot to be sad for a moment. 'Thankfully you cannot even imagine the pain this man felt. But I wanted to tell you this so that you know that no matter how bad you feel, there is always someone who feels worse than you. I want you to remember this story, and keep it with you. This man loved, purer, and stronger than anyone in this world, and was rejected worse, and colder than anyone can imagine.' He patted the boy's back and wiped the tears off his cheeks. 'I'd best be getting back now, my family will be worrying about me.' He stood up, and began to walk away.
The boy thought for a moment, then turned where he sat and called out, "Who is this man?"
The man turned and smiled sadly, then called out softly "I am that man, boy." Then he walked off into the forest, leaving the boy sitting there.