2.15

Heartbreak has been dealt in heavy doses this week for us. Love is so painful. It's that kind of pain that 'makes you stronger', that kind of pain that feeds your soul to push forward through the worst times in your life and reach something safe. Vulnerability is terrifying. Feeling open to danger, whether it's by physical force or emotional, is similar to feeling weak and helpless. The heart is a strange little organ. It is the center of our life, of our functioning human bodies. Or our dysfunctional mutant animal bodies. I don't care what you believe; people were not meant to be alone.

When I love someone, it's like a piece of my soul is given to them, like a bead from a bracelet. When that bead is handed over, willingly or taken by surprise, I simply cannot get it back. That unique little fragment of my being forever belongs to its keeper. And when the keeper hurts me, or somehow leaves my pocket of social relationships, that bead slips from their hands and rolls into a corner of their room. And it sits there in the corner, collecting dust - still ever present.

I cannot create new pieces of my soul, and I cannot control who possesses each little bead. But with only so much life to live, I'd like to think that whatever I do give out, it makes an impact in the keeper's life. Because that's all anyone can really hope for. To be held dearly in the palms of someone special.

I broke down.

About two hours ago, I lost my fucking mind.
But I found my strength

I got into a huge fight with my dad. It was a series of fights, events each building up with intensity, ready to explode into chaos. I was sobbing non-stop. In fact, I didn't stop until about 20 minutes ago. I tried to run away from everything. I grabbed my keys and threw on my boots and started running for the door when my mom and dad caught me, screaming at me to get back to them and to stop running. I turned around with my hair flying everywhere and my tears drenching my face and clothes and I threw my keys to the floor. I ran upstairs, away from their yelling and all of the confusion. I literally could not get away. I flung myself onto my bed and I cried so hard I lost every ounce of strength and sanity in my little body.
My younger brother came up to my room and picked me up, holding me in his arms as I just sprawled out like a rag-doll. Heaving sobs and shrieking unrecognizable phrases. I couldn't see, I couldn't move. I just felt so much pain.
My brother then carried me down the stairs and put me on the couch in front of my father. I curled up in a ball and held my knees, rocking back and forth. I didn't want to hear what he had to say to me. He'd already done too much damage.
He opened his mouth to say something, and I absolutely went fucking berzerk.

I screamed every single word that I wanted to tell him for four years. All of that anger and hatred and fear just poured out of my mouth like word vomit. I couldn't stop myself, I just kept going. I cried and yelled and cursed and fought my way through every single thing I had felt over four years of not saying anything to my father.
And he took everything I said and didn't fight it back. He just looked at me and took it all in. And I just dove into his arms and cried some more until I my dehydration took over. I ran to the bathroom and threw up, and then I passed out cold on the floor.
My brother came in and got me up, stuck a straw in my mouth and made me sip on orange juice until I stopped shaking so violently.

I talked to my dad once I was 'stable' and we sort of reconciled. Everything isn't fixed, but it's better.

get up.

It's Act 5.
And you are the only character left.
Everything you used to know was wrong.
And everyone you used to trust was an enemy.
And the person you loved is gone.

But, the play isn't over until you fulfill your destiny.
So, go on.
Pull yourself together.
There's still some pages to go.
And we're not done reading about you

Extracted Chapter

So, I've been writing this story in Creative Writing, and people seem to like it. I figured you might enjoy looking at some of it. Nothing is finished, this is very raw, and some things may not be composed well yet. WHATEVER. ( also, this is KIND OF inspired by Fight Club, but in a strange way)

"Get up, Flick."

I rolled over, clutching my stomach, woozy from the raging pain. That was a good hit - a sucker punch, but a good hit.

"Come on, girl. Don't quit on me."

I glared at him. He was definitely going to get it.

"Brennan, you stupid shit!" I lifted myself up, arms quivering, and threw my dead weight full-force at my smirking boyfriend. He laughed as we both collapsed to the floor. The grimy, dank basement floor that had become familiar territory to my bruised and overworked body.

I managed to throw a couple punches at his chest, as he blocked his face with his hands. Not like he had to, anyway. That was one of our rules.

"I'm gonna kill you, Flick!" Brennan shouted through broken puffs of respiration. But the truth was we'd both been dead for some time now. Dead, in the sense of our imagination

"Keep talking, you're making this easier for me." I retorted.

Brennan shoved me away, and then offered a hand, almost as if he was mocking me.

"Fuck you." I said smiling, taking the offer.

This was our routine. Neither of us could recall the exact origin in time when it began. In fact, we didn't understand most of it. Just that it felt good. Sure, anyone could have called it abuse and sent both of our selfish asses to therapy or jail. We'd just sit in our cells, grinning with broken teeth.

I brushed the debris off of my soiled, blood-stained clothing. Both of us were panting and clutching a damaged limb.

"You're gettin' better, babe. I should start taking you seriously" Brennan said.

I shook my hair out of my ponytail. "Hah! Take me seriously. You're starting to sound like my useless father." I spit, noticing a red tinge to my saliva. I must've bit my lip or something.

"You're so sore on that. Stop wasting your time on people who just don't care about you, Flick. He abandoned you. He doesn't want you anymore. Just accept it and move on" he said, wiping his face on his shirt.

I laced up my Chucks angrily. "Eat your words, Bren. If you weren't still hung up on your mom bailing we wouldn't need to do this shit."

He looked at me, those fierce amber eyes flaming with angst. I wasn't scared, he only hit me when my fists were up. Fair and square.

"Look, Flick," he said while lighting his cigarette, "you're just as stubborn and fucked up as me, quit pretending your situation is so much worse. We're both abandoned, neglected souls with lame service jobs and bad social skills. It's not like I made this happen to you. You are just a lost puppy I picked up in the alley." He paused an took a drag.

"I know, that's why we're such a perfect match" I said cooly.

He came over to me and kissed me, blowing his toxic cigarette smoke between my lips. I inhaled. To Brennan, these Newport flavored kisses were his way of showing compassion. I accepted, despite my distaste for menthol.

We walked up the cellar stairs and he held my hand. This was our Saturday night, and despite the slight addiction to painkillers and ice packs, it was special.

12/6/09

So hey guys.

Today was really good (:

I hung out with two of my best friends; Dave and Ryan.

We went to Taco Bell, AC Moore, and Barnes & Noble.

It was so much fun!

We ended up spending an hour looking through this AMAZING graffiti book,

which was basically a blackbook that this artist brought to all of these dope artists,

such as; Lady Pink, Cope2, Seen, and JA.

Basically, we need that fucking book.

Then we went back to my house and chilled in my kitchen,

drawing and painting.

But then we decided that we all needed new sketchbooks,

so we went back out to get them :3

Now, I have a brand new beautiful sketchbook

AND I worked on my painting, and it's coming along nicely.

When capsules and 40oz outweighed achievements.

Some things I would like to get off of my chest:

- My father has "cut me off"
(I think this means he has nothing to do with me anymore)

- I've been having increasingly painful heart palpitations over the past hour
(they have not ceased)

- I would rather sleep in my car than live here one more day.
(this is the difference between building a house and giving a home)

>>>

I heard the dial-tone like a flat line,
you took what was yours, and made it what's mine
all the abuse is eventually going to chew at your health,
no one can move you through this mess you've got to do it yourself

First photo shoot

My friend Shannon Urato ( http://www.flickr.com/photos/mansonnnx/) took some amazing photos of me on Tuesday. Shannon is an aspiring photographer with lots of talent, especially when it comes to profiles. She asked me to model for her, and seeing as it was my first try, I think I did fairly well! Here are some of our favorites:

"When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions."

~

False hope expels from your face, your eyes, and the faith that you had in him has faded
rest your thoughts, dear child, you cannot hold yourself responsible for the actions he's taken;
the darkness he pulled over your bright eyes.

Never question your ability to see through false faces,
he is the victim of your passion,
and the wicked criminal who has tainted what it meant to be a hero.

Who is hero?
What was he saving?
Certainly not your disposition or your sanity
You brought this upon yourself,
you were more than capable to save safety, but you folded.

Well, he was wrong.
He is wrong.
You are everything he's always wanted,
and he's thrown it all away.

truth.

You don't need to see something to know it needs to change;

stop looking for red flags and go with your gut. Somebody needs you.

pathetic.

This is fucking ridiculous. I am beyond stressed out. My body is having the hardest time keeping up with my mind. I have so much work to do and not enough time to cram it all in. My biggest priority right now is this career exploration project that was due yesterday, but honestly I don't give two shits about it. I did this SAME THING freshman year. I hate my Transitions class. I cannot wait until this term is officially OVER.

And the worst part of everything is that I am physically incapable of getting things done right now because my blood counts are walking the thin line of being stable and plummeting into danger.

wait a second.

The most powerful weapons in this world aren't bombs, or guns, or knives...

it's schools.

What is hiding in the 860?

Everything about my mother has been kept from me. Everything about her family has been locked up and thrown in the basement with all of the trophies, fine china, and horse figurines. Collecting dust. I am tired of knowing things that were never meant from my ears. I want to find "the black book" and find that picture of my mother and Mr. Scott posed for a wedding photo in the paper. I want to know if my mother had a kid before me. Do I have a half sister? Brother?

Do they know that Sam and I exist? Would they want to know?

It makes me uneasy. I have dreams of people's faces, like ghosts, looking for me. Calling out my mom's name. I feel like there is somebody out there who shares half of my DNA. Something is missing.

Until We All Burn

It's October 25th and I am still asleep.

I think things are supposed to change for people around this time of year. In New England, the leaves change colors and fall off of the trees, leaving the trees exposed. What do we shed? What changes with humans? Is it physically noticeable? Recently I have felt a stronger sense of independence and responsibility. Applying to college is a ridiculous amount of stress. Time is forced through a small hole when you have deadlines. Deadlines. Dead. That's how I end up by the time they are met.

I miss having the time to live. I miss playing and napping and dilly-dallying. I miss summer more than anything. All of these things are common, because they all involve one thing; childhood. When did I let that go? If I could tell little Emily anything, it would be to slow down and take everything in. That's the problem with present times. We rush far too much. Our bodies can't keep up with our brains. It's unhealthy to live like this.

'you' deserve an 'and me'

There are things we depend on to come through each day. We expect them to be there, even if we don't notice we need them so much. We sleepwalk through the most important moments of our 24 hours. We cannot deny it - we need people. Humans weren't meant to be alone. Companionship is vital to our emotional stability. We attach ourselves to others. Call it invasive, call it complimentary, but I'll call it mandatory. Once the people we depend on leave us, we are vulnerable little children again. And we don't understand the necessity of their presence. Our days together are numbered. You can choose to ignore that, or you can choose to embrace it. Can you say that you'll savor it?


Who do you dream up when the sun goes down?
I cling to my sheets in hopes of finding you.

ramble

What a coincidence. Yeah, they never cared about you. We could never bother them to look our way. We couldn't touch them. They were beautiful; unattainable perfection. And how we longed for their attention. Just a moment of their high-priced time. We wanted so much to be just like them. We just wanted to be noticed by all the right people. We wanted to be socially immortal. We wanted.

And now the tables have turned.

Secretly, quietly - they wish they were as noticeable as we are. They wish to be something daring and unnatural. Of course, it isn't part of their code of law to be anything but "in fashion'. They run in packs. Like wolves they hunt together for something to call "inferior". Well, just because we are different we are wrong. We are dangerous, uncharted territory. Just because we don't blend in with our surroundings we are fake. What defines fake? What makes a person real? We will never be what they want us to be, and they want us to be acceptable.

Clones are terribly boring. I'd prefer to live in chaos than drown in monotony.
Grow a spine.

Watch your mouth...

Because your speech is slurred enough
that you just might swallow your tongue;

It's not that we're afraid of you, we're just afraid of you slipping into the dark. You have a tendency to fall apart at the worst of times. Please, you've done so well. Don't let the small things creep under your skin. And when you're not strong enough to face the people you love, please don't be afraid to take comfort in isolation. That is, if you plan on returning. I love you, and you have no idea how proud I am of you for lasting this long.

You know you should take it a day at a time.

Just as I said.

I owed you all some new strokes. There you go. I call this one "You're a beautiful and violent word" because it's lyrics that just spoke to me when I was painting and listening to a song called "These Few Presidents" by Why?. I often name my paintings after lyrics from songs that inspired the piece or that I just happened to have stuck in my head at the time.

Please give me feedback.
Do you hate it? Love it? Why?

Uhm.

So I need to paint again.
Probably have something for you tomorrow.

You've done it again.

Tragedy is realizing that what you thought was real for so long was an act, a facade. It is in realizing that you were only a way to pass the time. It is in knowing that you are disposable.

What is a promise? A promise is a verbal commitment by one person to another agreeing to do (or not to do) something in the future. So we put our trust into words. We throw our emotions out on the line for spoken or written terms. This means nothing. Words are insignificant; feelings are real. I don't like promises, because they always fail.

In the end, we die alone. Why? Because we, ourselves, are the only people we have. Our loved ones leave us eventually. And no matter how defiant you are, it is the inevitable truth.

Good gracious.

The last couple days have been a whirlwind. It started Thursday night, when my mom came home around midnight. I was still awake, but lying down in bed. She came in to my room to say goodnight. I told her that all week I had been feeling very "low"(I was referring to my anemia) and I experienced a number of symptoms that were quite typical when I've had a low hemoglobin before. My mom then took me to my pediatrician the next day and I was examined. He called for blood work to be done at Emerson Hospital, so my mom and I went. After two hours of confusion and waiting, a nurse came out into the waiting room and asked for my mother urgently. She told my mom I had a hemoglobin of 6.2 and that we had to get to the ER at Mass General in Boston immediately. My mom grabbed my arm and we booked it out to the car. She drove into Boston in at least 20 minutes at got me to the ER. I was registered there and since I was a STAT patient, I was whisked up to the 18th floor, the pediatrics level. There, I endured several series of questions from six different nurses, four EKG's, and countless vital checks. I was hooked up to more machines than ever before. Because I was considered to be in 'critical condition', I had my own room to myself where everyone was constantly watching me. My blood oxygen level was extremely low, and I was at risk of dying. Within 2 hours I had an IV set up for two blood transfusions. It felt so strange to have someones blood dripped into my body. I am so thankful for blood drives, and I have incredible respect for people who partake in them. Thank you to anyone who has donated blood, you could have been the person who saved my life. Each transfusion took four hours, and when I woke up from the first one, I felt like I had been reborn. I felt a whole new energy. But most of all, I was extremely blessed that my body had accepted the new blood. Saturday afternoon came around and my IV nurse collected more blood for a new count to see if the transfusions had done their job. They had, my hemoglobin was up to my normal amount. Because everything was back to 'my normal', I was discharged and came home roughly around 8:00 pm Saturday night.


Reflecting over my experience, I can't tell you how gracious I am to my pediatrician and my mother. My mom stayed focused and calm through everything. She didn't break, and when I was too overwhelmed to handle everything, she smiled and assured me that everything I was going through would make me stronger. I love her so much.

Studio!

This is where I spend at least 2-4 hours a night. I paint before I go to bed, because I think my imagination spills out more when I am sleepy. Sometimes I paint when I wake up too. My mom was sweet enough to buy me a desk easel so I won't smudge paint all over my arms and wrists now. I'm very fortunate that she supports my hobby, because paper is expensive. We are looking into buying a portfolio for all of my stuff. Believe me, there is a lot. As far as paints and pallets go, I just use pieces of cardboard. I see no reason to buy a piece of plastic when I have scrap boxes in my possession. My paint is just your basic 79₵ acrylic craft paint you can find at any Micheal's or Jo -Anne Fabrics. I've just recently switched to watercolor paper because it holds more paint and the weight is perfect.

Smoke screen.

So this is my newest painting, and it was completed really late last night. I was very hesitant to add colour to it because I was so attached to the black & white. I'm really happy with the way it came out. I think I'm resetting the standard for my paintings, because this time I pushed myself to try a full-body person. Usually my figures stop around the waist and have "tails". Anyway, I hope other people appreciate this piece because I love it.

Broken anthem.

It is a waste of time trying to please everyone. Simply because you cannot please everyone. I used to give a damn about what people thought about me, said about me -- oh Lord I was so vulnerable. And then, my mother let me down worse than ever before. I stopped caring when she stopped promising. Since then, I have changed. I have given up on achieving something without flaws, but in return have found something perfect, something to call 'safety'. I have found a few hearts to hide my fears in. My best friend, Mary, who has been with me through all 4 years of High School, has shown me what sisterhood looks like. Even when I fuck up, she's there to wipe away my tears as she conceals her own. God bless her. And my boyfriend, John. He saved me from a self-inflicted disease I'd like to call pity. I never miss a day of thank-yous for having him in my life. So many people have helped me discover who I am, and I'm finally at peace with myself. I don't doubt my feelings anymore, and I appreciate everything I am given. But most importantly, I am thankful for what I wasn't given. People who have everything handed to them are not people, they are empty useless shells. My life is filled with little blessings. And I will continue to accept each day like it is my last, because eventually, it will be.

More ahht. (:

Okay. So I painted both of these last night after I got in from hanging out with my friends Kelly and David, and my boyfriend John. Whenever I am with Kelly I feel so inspired to do something creative and meaningful, and I would hope that shows in these two paintings. The first one is definitely something different, but still going with my theme. This piece, to me, shows that love is timeless and can be found between all ages. However, it also shows that love can be real and true enough to last from ages 16 - 80. I really honestly believe in true love and soul mates because of my boyfriend's parents, Denise and John Sr. They are so perfect for each other, and they are high school sweethearts. Just looking at them, you can tell that there is no better match for either of them. I hope John and I can have that.

Alright, so the second piece is slightly more strange, but I love it anyway! I'm not even sure if it has a meaning or message (shame on me, eh Ryan?). It looks like a night scene, but I painted the sun. I think it has something to do with God, or some creator. I don't call myself a Christian, or any other worshiper, but I do believe in ultimate creation. If I had to pick apart this piece for a meaning, I suppose it would be that most search for a sign from God, but in their quest for something obvious, they miss the little messages sitting under their feet.

She was afraid of dreadful prophecies.

This is my favorite of my new paintings. It's funny because it literally took 5 minutes. I just went with it. I love how abstract it strange it is. My materials were acrylic paint, and a can of metallic silver spray paint, and some recycled paper I salvaged from Oedipus the play packet from 9th grade.

From now on I'll be posting daily or weekly paintings.

Can you hear me?

Like being surrounded by padded walls, I've moved from place to place in my mind. There is a way to escape the madness, but it's too far and fair to see. I'll close my eyes for a moment and all I can see is your color. Plastered across my canvas. Damn you for being so impressive. I wish there was more I could do, I wish there was a place I could go. Oh, how I've run so far away from home.

And you don't stop.

You never let it go. There's always one more little twist to the story.
And now you have Luekemia.


Please don't watch me cry.

Suprise, suprise.

Some people can be very tricky, like when you want to pursue a friendship with them because they are unique and interesting, they play it slow and ignore your various attempts to communicate. However, when you forget about them for a little while, or you've been too busy to care, they curl up next to you and want to know everything. Just like a cat, you cannot chase them. You have to wait until they come to you.

Hook, line, sinker.

Hi it's me I suffer from anxiety,

I feel ready to kill from all the pills that've been prescribed to me

I have an appointment in August with my Hematologist. She's going to tell us whether I can have my spleen taken out. Or just half of it out. If she makes a mistake and we take out my spleen, I can end up getting blood clots so bad they can lead to an aneurysm and kidney stones. I've never trusted doctors, I've never trusted anyone in the medical field. Without the surgery, I will continue to struggle with the full effect of the anemia. With the surgery, I am at serious risk for catching viruses that could throw me into critical condition. It's funny how nobody asks my opinion of the situation, its my doctor's and my parent's choice. I don't matter. I'm just an experiment.

I'm sorry I couldn't last longer,
maybe in the next life I'll be a heart stronger.

Damn you.

Your empty words will not haunt me. The face that we've learned doesn't belong to you will not remain in my heart. Shame on you for letting my sensibility slip from me. Shame on me for letting you. I sold your soul to a pack of wolves for two pounds of pride and a lifetime supply of regret. I can put my smile back on, but can you live with yourself?

I used to be so obvious with my words;

but at least I was honest

I just fucking love

I love Kat Von D. Haters can suck it, I don't want to hear it.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and so the whole world is going blind.

Orange creatures are crawling out of tanning salons, beds breeding more of their clones, bringing back the age old dilemma of marketable skin color. Put a price on insecurity and feed it to the hungry consumer. Make her believe she is flawed and unwanted, she'll spend it all. && when her life is cast aside whilst she clings to your products, she will still look in that mirror and wish she could airbrush the emotion out of her newly crafted body that she wears so well. Pluck her, wax her, apply age elixir and lie, but soon enough she will catch her true reflection in a stranger's eyes and cry out in horror because she is no longer human, she is mannequin.

When color becomes a profit;

I would rather be translucent.

my arts!

I'm very excited, I have just discovered that I have a very rare style of painting? I love it. It's so freeing. The painting to the left is one of my favorites so far. All of them are on my Facebook.

there's a way.

I believe that we have been living in a cold world for such a long time. The flurries we experience every now and then remind us that fantasy ends within the boundaries of our dreams. And when all is said and done, and we are all frozen into perfect statues all similar in translucent wonder, will you see through the thin ice?

Word vommit.

I'd like to think you have a hole in your life that's just about my size;
and if I wait up for you, I'll waste my life for you
and i do.

Painful paws.

So here it is. The plain and simple truth that my family and I have been trying to avoid facing; my dog Runner has cancer, and he is going to die. The vets said today that he really donesn't have much longer. I'm not sure if that's day or weeks. He is in so much pain, and he's coughing up blood. The poor dog can barely walk around the house. It's so hard to see my best friend whom we've had since we moved to this town suffer so much. We're giving him pills to ease the pain, but it's inevitable - we must put him down soon. I love this dog like my own child. I hate this. I hate hate hate this.

a brief synopsis

I just subscribed to one of the best counter culture magazines! It's called Hi-Fructose. So pumped to get that in the mail (:


I've just returned from a 2-day yearbook camp with Boston Yearbook Academy and Herff Jones. This was my second and final year doing the camp, and I believe it was really successful. I learned a few things about my camera, which is really vital to this year's publication. I know, I am such a yerd (yearbook nerd). All that matters is that I enjoy it, right?

I am happy to announce that I came up with this year's theme AND I sort of thought of the cover too. My team at camp this year were really brilliant and I have faith in us! Ahghhh. Next year I am a chief 'editorial bitch' as Ms. Cook said. It's going to be extreme!

Wow. I just had a look at my hair. It needs to be done again soon. Yikes!





I MISS MY BOYFRIEND.

blurrrrrrb.

Some people worry about the smoke

instead of putting out the fire.

(: just a little ray of sunshine

This is why people need to enjoy life.

I was at this little playground behind one of the elementary schools in my town with my friend Megan, and this lovely man just came putting down the hill with his metal detector. He was a very simple man, by the looks of him, and minded his own business while me and Megan carried on our conversation. I hope he doesn't mind that I sniped a picture of him, as I am currently feeling like a creeper for doing so. He made my day. I think what this man represents is the simple pleasures in life, and the fact that we tend to overlook the little treasures hiding under our busy days. He certainly taught me to never leave a patch of land a mystery. Thank you Mr. Anonymous. You are a beautiful soul.

You're a vile one...

You're the queen of sinful thoughts.
Your heart's a dead tomato splot
With moldy purple spots, Medusa.

Your soul is an apalling dump heap overflowing
with the most disgraceful assortment of deplorable
rubbish imaginable,
Mangled up in tangled up knots.

You nauseate me, Medusa.
You're a three decker saurkraut and toadstool sandwich
With arsenic sauce.

Dr. Suess understands.

it's so frustrating.

Today I got into a massive screamfest with my younger brother. He kept saying how he can't talk to anybody in this house and how everything is so difficult for him. I understand that I can be ridiculously bitchy to him sometimes, but I never thought it really impacted him so much. I feel like a terrible sister. I know how I have always wanted an older brother or sister to look out for me and make me feel better when situations get rough, and I think Sam wants the same thing.

I really don't know how I am going to go about fixing this, because it's going to take more than a couple days to resolve.

Actually.

I know I'm going to get some cool points taken off for this, but I'm still an in-the-closet Green Day fan. And I love their new album. Their lyrics have always been awesome.

Listen please:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-LuHJV4Lt0Q


Hey, at least it's not Coldplay. (:

one last thing

This is for John. (:

il est beau

When my lips touch yours tiny electric shocks send waves of happiness down my spine. And when I awake from the kiss, your glass eyes send messages from your heart. They are received by my humble smile, and replied with an embrace. This is my favorite form of instant messenger.

a little reflection

Hurting somebody is by no means impressive. I myself am guilty of threatening others in order to make myself seem strong. I’ve looked upon my past experiences, and I have come to realize that the one who insults and harms the other is truly the weakling. Discrimination in any form is something to be ashamed of. When you talk down to somebody or exclude them, you only make them want to blend in more. In this society, being unique is frowned upon. Modern obsession with the latest clothes, hair, make-up, and body fuel the cloning machine. It is becoming very rare for a person to be known for their individuality, rather than their appearance. Maybe the next time you make somebody embarrassed or ashamed of whom they are they may not even try to blend in. They may just disappear.

rant - humans

Some humans are wicked. Their tainted hearts pump venomous blood through their bodies. Anger and wretch seeps from the pores in their skin. Their vision becomes impaired when something flares their tempers. Bad intentions sweep good judgement away, and often times, enemies end up pale-faced. And so the demons recede from fingertips and the human's soul returns. What awful, vile creatures humans are.

No one morns the wicked.

Cœur Confession

Je suis en amour avec ce garçon.

the ink plague

It's unbelievably frustrating. I am suffering a case of writers block. I can feel words emerging from my brain and fighting to be put into phrases. My fingers are battling with each other to scribble or type anything with substance and meaning. It's not a lack of inspiration, just a lack of motivation. I've tired out my usual topics, and I am searching for something natural, something I know about. But maybe that's the thing -- I never look for fires, they usually spark themselves.

I always write best when the weather is poor, or when I feel energized by something frustrating. Right now, the only thing that's frustrating to me is my hair. I know, how vain. I used to write about how much I hate fake, vain girls. Maybe I've become one of them. I never wanted to blend in. However, I've become a chameleon.

blooming retina

Your eyes are like sea glass, so weathered and worn

From all they've seen of adolescence torn.

That's disgusting.

When I look at you, this is what I see. You're absolutely repulsive, and so is your behavior. I cannot wait until karma bites you in the ass.

Beatrice the tortoise

This morning I woke up to my dad telling me to come over to the window in the hallway and look outside. Still groggy and a bit irritated, I stumbled over my piles of clothes and looked outside to please the man, (seeing as it is Father's Day). On my front lawn, there was this beastly creature laying her eggs in the dirt where my dad had been treating for grass to grow. Delighted by his discovery of this beast, my dad then told me to grab my camera and take some snapshots of this event. So I take my camera and take some shots of the turtle laying her eggs. About 3 hours later, she's done. The neighbors come outside, still dawing their pajamas, and bring their children to witness the departure of the creature we've come to call Beatrice.

So now, I have turtle eggs burried in my front yard by the roadside. This will not end well, my friends. Lawn mowers, tires, or predators will determine the fate of these turtles. My mother, however, has vowed to protect them -- from one mother to the next, if you will.