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| okay heres my number. we haven't talked in a while, have we? work is so soon. i hope i feel okay there. and way............................bvjhkbvn `hgreytrj,nmjkljuytdrbchgvbn | | |
| no more french. i drooped it, and i'll say, maybe i'll pick it back up. but i think its gone for good.
yesterday i took a bath and the water turned a pretty color of cloudy purple.
sometimes my body hurts me so badly
so i have to submerge myself under water.
completely surrounded,
my skin soaks up every drop
criying from every pour
my blood floats free.
i am deep under the ocean
translucent as a mermaid
the water is salty
and my body reflects this.
i am beautiful
and the water washes away all my impurities
i am clean
i haven't written in a while, and i miss doing so.
i have been drinking much more tea lately
and talking some with mallory
i am hesitant to forgive her,
but i know i will.
i think that the way people treat us is reflected in the way we treat others.
and it just takes a little time to experience this.
sometimes it's good, but sometimes not so much.
and this time i am more aware of the way she is acting.
remember this
live to share.
for your family your friends your self and the whole world.
money is not everything.
you are not everything
we make it all
even those is which you do not consider "we" make it.
protect, preserve, nurture.
rebirth, regrowth, renew.
the moon loves to watch over you.
it can see right through your pale skin.
you drink it up as it pours into you.
a new light is found.
you don't need to worry anymore
just like she said
you'll be given love
you'll have to trust it.
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| writing, something i must do. blah blah blah. i was outside today, laying on my back. the sun was peaking through the leaves, the trees taunting me with their height. i felt ashamed of myself, alone. all alone. but then i know we are all just that. alone in this world. we all must be dependent of ourselves, and that's hard. but anyways, i was laying there and the colors were so pretty, all at once. bules and greens, browns white yellow. and how could i feel down with nature all around me? certain events bring about certain emotions. but, in all, it's okay. i'm here, and i was there, and i'm enjoin myself, and really it's alright... but, i could tell something was different. the air, a bit more crisp. i can tell it, when the wind blows. it doesn't stick to me, or blow right through me, raping me of all my warmth. no, instead it wraps around me, circles all around me, and i feel comforted, refreshed. i can feel it, fall is coming. and i'm in love with that. i was laying there though,i looked up and saw a butterfly. perfect, symmetrical. yellow and black on both sides, swimming in the light blue sky that stretches on forever above us all. it was beautiful, and if you'd have seen it, i bet you would have agreed. | | |
| in class someone said they want to be a poet
i like writing poetry, but most of all i just like writing.
i always say that, "i want to be a writer."
write it mostly actually, and not say it aloud.
it's just that writing is a way to better understand one's self. i write to find out more about myself.
so, i'm not going to limit myself,
even though i have been writing mostly poetry lately.
or what i think it is anyways.
i like the people in our class.
i really like the girl who's not afraid to talk.
i don't know, but i don't think i'll talk to much in class.
i'm always feeling sort of shy, maybe intimidated.
she said she didn't like catcher in the rye because it was really stream of consciousness and didn't seem to be going any place.
i took a creative writing class in high school and the teacher described my pieces that way....
"very steam of consciousness ...." "very imaginative...."
i didn't mind.
and still, i don't.
in class, that girl said art is something that is premeditated.
the artist has an emotional connection to what they are creating.
that's true,
but i also think art can be made in any form.
if you are a photographer, you do not always set up your picture.
you go out, in to the world.
you find something beautiful and capture it.
i think art can be any where.
i think it's slightly different for each person.
and, i don't normally name my writing.
and i know this can be a problem for some people.
the past few days i've writhen these,
they can give you an idea as to what sort of writing i do.
i was falling in love with someone.
as first i didn't know who it was, but then, i realized, it was myself.
i was to be so thin
and it's not a weight issue.
i just want to be skin, bones, blood.
i want to breath, and drink in water from every place.
i want to empty myself of everything i have now.
start over, fresh. a new self, but still. me.
lately i've been wanting all kinds of sexual desires, and i don't feel dirty.
i want to be invisible
eat and drink when i want to
breath when i have to.
i'm no goddess.
i'm not strange and hidden.
i'm here.
my love is here.
my fears.
my secrets.
i come outside, into this world.
i don't hide
inside my mother
behind shadows.
i came from a million different places,
but still,
i don't know where those places are.
those are just two so far.
now,
i don't feel like writing anymore.
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| i am. i am me, always. thats fair. i am always me, so why not enjoy it?
i really liked when i went to California. i want to go back back back back back.back in time so I'll still be there.
today i cleaned my apartment with Mallory and Paul and Kelsey helped. then we went out to eat at blueberry hill.
but it's Mallory's apartment too.
it was okay.
i don't LOVE that restaurant, but i don't hate it either.
i sort of wish we had eaten at the Thai restaurant.
i am going to Chicago this weekend. i am excited because I'll see Bjork perform.
again.
i should be working on a paper right now, but i am being too lazy.
so i am writing on here instead.
writing writing writing, nothing interesting.
I'm so bored.
my computer stopped working, so now I have to use my mom's laptop.
i wish mine still worked.
to tell the truth, i just don't care about school right now.
I'm so glad this is my last week.
i hate school.
more than you do.
pink is good for you, you should eat it.
last year, in creative writing, i wrote a story about someone who popped out their eyes.
then, also, in that same story, there was a vampire.
but she only craved fruit juice.
so she wanted to turn her friend into a vampire too, but her friend didn't like fruit, so her friend didn't want to.
she decided she was going to turn him into one anyways.
so she went to his house in the middle on the night when he was sleeping.
and then she decided she would not do it because it was rude.
but she told him she really did do it.
she told him the next morning when she saw him.
but really she didn't.
or did she?
then again, when i think about it.
i don't think the vampire story and the eye popping story were the same story.
i'm listening to Richard Cheese.
he's really cheesy.
i used to be a member of this website,
lipstickparty.com
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