I love how this blog seems to steadily get darker and darker. Ha.
So, I've lost all of my friends. It's true. In some capacity or another, every single one of them is gone. If you have nothing to live for, what do you have to die for?
Je pense…je pense je vais mourir ce soir. Pourquoi ? Parce que je veux le voir. Je veux déjà voir son visage. Je me veux tue. Je ne m’aime pas.
31.1.10
New Story Part (Ahemahm)
Dammnit, why did I care so much about what he thought of me? He was just some stupid boy—wasn’t he? And believe me, I had met plenty of stupid boys, yet somehow none of them had this effect on me. Why did it have to be Jace? And why did he have to ignore me?
“Hey hun, it’s me,” I said into the phone quietly, discouragement already gripping me. “Um, I just wanted to see what was up. Like, you didn’t really talk to me today, and I...” God, now I just sounded needy. “Well, just...yea.” I suddenly felt awkward and unsure of myself. “Call me,” I fumbled before quickly snapping my phone shut. I didn’t know what to think anymore. Granted, Jace and I hadn’t know each other long—just since the summer or so. But back then, he had been the one that told me how awesome I was, and how I was one of the coolest girls he had ever met. And even when school had started back up again, we’d continued our friendship.
Until now.
I tapped my fingers anxiously against the table. Why wasn’t he talking to me? I hated to be needy, and I even more I hated to nag, but Jace forced me to do both those things. Didn’t he? Or was I just that horrible? It was true—over the last year or so I had lost so many friends, through fights or drifting apart. It had to be my fault right? Right? I was so unsure of myself. So afraid that I was turning into a person that couldn’t be accepted. Afraid that that had become a concern for me. And while I was left alone, all of those lost friends had new friends, and they were happy. They had a crowd. I was suddenly a loner, forgotten, a black and white television in a Sharper Image world. But I was almost okay with that, because somehow I had managed to maintain my friendship with Jace. But not anymore. What had I done? I just wanted to know so that I could never, ever make that mistake again.
With a sudden self-directed rage, I rushed toward the edge of my bed, reaching beneath it the small green and white striped bag I kept there. Having grasped it, I glanced up at the door, checking to make sure it was locked, before slipping the stainless steel knife I had stolen out of the kitchen one night out of it, along with a small bottle of rubbing-alcohol.
God, why did I have to be so damn replaceable?
Because this isn't true. Really? Still working on the plot line to the new story, but this is going in there somewhere.
“Hey hun, it’s me,” I said into the phone quietly, discouragement already gripping me. “Um, I just wanted to see what was up. Like, you didn’t really talk to me today, and I...” God, now I just sounded needy. “Well, just...yea.” I suddenly felt awkward and unsure of myself. “Call me,” I fumbled before quickly snapping my phone shut. I didn’t know what to think anymore. Granted, Jace and I hadn’t know each other long—just since the summer or so. But back then, he had been the one that told me how awesome I was, and how I was one of the coolest girls he had ever met. And even when school had started back up again, we’d continued our friendship.
Until now.
I tapped my fingers anxiously against the table. Why wasn’t he talking to me? I hated to be needy, and I even more I hated to nag, but Jace forced me to do both those things. Didn’t he? Or was I just that horrible? It was true—over the last year or so I had lost so many friends, through fights or drifting apart. It had to be my fault right? Right? I was so unsure of myself. So afraid that I was turning into a person that couldn’t be accepted. Afraid that that had become a concern for me. And while I was left alone, all of those lost friends had new friends, and they were happy. They had a crowd. I was suddenly a loner, forgotten, a black and white television in a Sharper Image world. But I was almost okay with that, because somehow I had managed to maintain my friendship with Jace. But not anymore. What had I done? I just wanted to know so that I could never, ever make that mistake again.
With a sudden self-directed rage, I rushed toward the edge of my bed, reaching beneath it the small green and white striped bag I kept there. Having grasped it, I glanced up at the door, checking to make sure it was locked, before slipping the stainless steel knife I had stolen out of the kitchen one night out of it, along with a small bottle of rubbing-alcohol.
God, why did I have to be so damn replaceable?
Because this isn't true. Really? Still working on the plot line to the new story, but this is going in there somewhere.
Because I Can't Tell Him...
Feelings suck. So do boys. Okay, mostly boys. Just saying.
"...you cannot lie to your dreams. They know things about you that even you don’t know. It is the only place where you can be yourself and be accepted.”
"...you cannot lie to your dreams. They know things about you that even you don’t know. It is the only place where you can be yourself and be accepted.”
27.1.10
The Storm
The sea was alive. A wild and tumultuous beast, she roared and raved like a drunkard, reckless beyond reason. The wind and the sky, her most loyal minions, dashed anything in her path until it was nothing but sand and crushed bone; above, lightning shattered the midnight sky, momentarily casting away her sparkling diamonds as though they were but glass. The inky depths below hissed and thundered a strange symphony, and the wind was her conductor, orchestrating their cacophony.
She churned and wrestled with the small bark in the middle of the sea, tossing it about like a child’s toy. Lightning pierced the sky and thunder roared, yet the boat stayed afloat. Men shouted as waves crashed over the sides, sliding from bow to aft in one swift moment. The few in the rigging struggled to keep their grips, crying out to a God that would not answer. The water, restless, fought on and on, as did the men, until neither could stand. Rain, cold and unfeeling, pelted the bare-chested sailors onboard, blinding them momentarily, making them squint into the onslaught. The captain of the vessel, a courageous young man of Italian and French decent, had tied himself to the wheel long ago, resolved to die where he stood. But when his ship sunk, all would know he died along with his crew, trying his best to save them, save L'Ange de la Mer. It was hopeless battle, but one he fount nevertheless. And fought it he did, and with pride, his hair slapping his forehead, blood dripping into his eyes from and unknown source. His shirt had long since been ripped off by the violent wind, but his eyes still blazed with a power only gained through hard times and determination. The word no never once left his lips or raced through his thoughts; only blasphemies and every once in a while, a lyric could be heard over the tumultuous resounding of waves and thunder.
Dead men will tell no tales so tell no tales will I! Running wild and flying free, I can touch the sky! We sail for God or we sail for gold, or we sail for those to behold our grand and sublime beauti’ vessel, never shall we be so bold! A bottle of rum and glass of ‘ale, tell the boys, ‘I’ll see ye in ‘ell!” Maniacal laughter erupted from his lips. “We’ll be dining with the devil tonight, and I daresay we shall arrive fashionable late!”
Daring to let one hand go of the wheel, he shoved his tricorn down harder on his head, a fierce grin spread across his face. His hands were crimson, but he did not see; his eyes were bloodshot but he did not notice. His heart pounded in his chest like a drum, hard and fast. A wave slapped him for his audacity, but he merely continued to laugh at it.
“Steal the queen and give the king a Turkish Delight; kill the prince, avoid the fight! Kiss the princess and marry the maid; don’t give up ‘til ye give ‘em raid! Hate the rich, love the paup’; love the pris’nor, hate the fop! You can bake yer cake and eat it too, but give me a piece to throw at you!”
He threw his head back, close to convulsing, his courage evident in the harsh contours of his face. Never before had he feared Death, and he did not now, for he and Death had gotten along beautifully for all his twenty years. He was prepared for a long-term relationship with her.
“Capitaine!” a voice cried. “Capitaine Casagrande,” it repeated, “what do we do now?!”
“Have the sails been cut of their lines?!”
“Oui!”
Casagrande grinned like a mad man. “Then prepare to meet your Maker, Phillipe!”
The sailor flinched, his grip on the mast tightening. “Is there surely no hope, monsieur?”
“Not enough for us!”
Through the wind and rain, Phillipe watched his leader, his capitaine, for a moment, true fear creeping into his mind.
“Are we to die?” he asked as softly as one can in such a storm.
Suddenly Casagrande’s temper flared. “Have I not,” he roared, startling the poor man, “made that clear, sailor? Have I not made it absolutely clear that there is no possible chance for survival?! Have I not—”
He suddenly stopped himself, breathing deep. “Go, Monsieur Dubois; enjoy yourself as much as you can in these last few moments.”
As the young man scampered up the rigging, the captain’s voice could be heard above the storm.
“My soul shall wonder the sea some day, and wonder it gladly shall I! The sea is my home, my own, my own, and never be parted shall I! I wonderful gust, and a strongful blow, low, low and behold! The sea is mine for just the taking, be glad, be sad, I’m home!”
Lightning shattered the midnight sky, and thunder boom directly after; the water rose and plummeted the ship mercilessly. Waves ripped it apart, and men screamed as they flailed about in the unforgiving icy seas; the captain had deaf ears to such taunts and pleas. His heart pounded like a drum in his chest, and he sang to the beat of it.
The ship shook, creaking and groaning beneath him, and he smiled into the wind.
“Oh Death, where is thy sting? Oh Grave where is thy victory. You thought You had a hold on me, but you were wrong I’ve been set free!”
With a final crack, the grand vessel and her courageous crew slipped beneath the waves and into the dark grave below.
Haha I had fun with that one :)
She churned and wrestled with the small bark in the middle of the sea, tossing it about like a child’s toy. Lightning pierced the sky and thunder roared, yet the boat stayed afloat. Men shouted as waves crashed over the sides, sliding from bow to aft in one swift moment. The few in the rigging struggled to keep their grips, crying out to a God that would not answer. The water, restless, fought on and on, as did the men, until neither could stand. Rain, cold and unfeeling, pelted the bare-chested sailors onboard, blinding them momentarily, making them squint into the onslaught. The captain of the vessel, a courageous young man of Italian and French decent, had tied himself to the wheel long ago, resolved to die where he stood. But when his ship sunk, all would know he died along with his crew, trying his best to save them, save L'Ange de la Mer. It was hopeless battle, but one he fount nevertheless. And fought it he did, and with pride, his hair slapping his forehead, blood dripping into his eyes from and unknown source. His shirt had long since been ripped off by the violent wind, but his eyes still blazed with a power only gained through hard times and determination. The word no never once left his lips or raced through his thoughts; only blasphemies and every once in a while, a lyric could be heard over the tumultuous resounding of waves and thunder.
Dead men will tell no tales so tell no tales will I! Running wild and flying free, I can touch the sky! We sail for God or we sail for gold, or we sail for those to behold our grand and sublime beauti’ vessel, never shall we be so bold! A bottle of rum and glass of ‘ale, tell the boys, ‘I’ll see ye in ‘ell!” Maniacal laughter erupted from his lips. “We’ll be dining with the devil tonight, and I daresay we shall arrive fashionable late!”
Daring to let one hand go of the wheel, he shoved his tricorn down harder on his head, a fierce grin spread across his face. His hands were crimson, but he did not see; his eyes were bloodshot but he did not notice. His heart pounded in his chest like a drum, hard and fast. A wave slapped him for his audacity, but he merely continued to laugh at it.
“Steal the queen and give the king a Turkish Delight; kill the prince, avoid the fight! Kiss the princess and marry the maid; don’t give up ‘til ye give ‘em raid! Hate the rich, love the paup’; love the pris’nor, hate the fop! You can bake yer cake and eat it too, but give me a piece to throw at you!”
He threw his head back, close to convulsing, his courage evident in the harsh contours of his face. Never before had he feared Death, and he did not now, for he and Death had gotten along beautifully for all his twenty years. He was prepared for a long-term relationship with her.
“Capitaine!” a voice cried. “Capitaine Casagrande,” it repeated, “what do we do now?!”
“Have the sails been cut of their lines?!”
“Oui!”
Casagrande grinned like a mad man. “Then prepare to meet your Maker, Phillipe!”
The sailor flinched, his grip on the mast tightening. “Is there surely no hope, monsieur?”
“Not enough for us!”
Through the wind and rain, Phillipe watched his leader, his capitaine, for a moment, true fear creeping into his mind.
“Are we to die?” he asked as softly as one can in such a storm.
Suddenly Casagrande’s temper flared. “Have I not,” he roared, startling the poor man, “made that clear, sailor? Have I not made it absolutely clear that there is no possible chance for survival?! Have I not—”
He suddenly stopped himself, breathing deep. “Go, Monsieur Dubois; enjoy yourself as much as you can in these last few moments.”
As the young man scampered up the rigging, the captain’s voice could be heard above the storm.
“My soul shall wonder the sea some day, and wonder it gladly shall I! The sea is my home, my own, my own, and never be parted shall I! I wonderful gust, and a strongful blow, low, low and behold! The sea is mine for just the taking, be glad, be sad, I’m home!”
Lightning shattered the midnight sky, and thunder boom directly after; the water rose and plummeted the ship mercilessly. Waves ripped it apart, and men screamed as they flailed about in the unforgiving icy seas; the captain had deaf ears to such taunts and pleas. His heart pounded like a drum in his chest, and he sang to the beat of it.
The ship shook, creaking and groaning beneath him, and he smiled into the wind.
“Oh Death, where is thy sting? Oh Grave where is thy victory. You thought You had a hold on me, but you were wrong I’ve been set free!”
With a final crack, the grand vessel and her courageous crew slipped beneath the waves and into the dark grave below.
Haha I had fun with that one :)
23.1.10
12.1.10
Lemons And Sparkly Glitter
When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. Or as I like to say, make apple juice and let the world wonder how.
The other day, I sent my friend, who now lives in another freaking state, a letter. I’m waiting for his call (since he refuses to write me back, the jerk), and the yelling that will go along with it. Why? Well, when thousands of Twilight fangirls bombard him, I have a feeling that he will not exactly be singing my praises. Yes, yes that’s right: I filled the entire envelope with sparkly glitter, sparkly face glitter to be precise. If you have never been a girl, seven, or gay, who may not know that sparkly face glitter does not come off. Ever.
So, I await his angry phone call with glee. And maniacal laughter.
I am in BCIS class right now, and it is insanely boring. I have some pretty awesome friends in my class, but right now, no one is really talking. Maybe because I’m being rude and typing, ay? There are two guys sitting next to me, and dear GOD, they are annoying. But whatevz, they’re boys, they can’t help it. Laugh like a llama.
Well, tomorrow is my first day of finals and the last day I ever have to listen to my dreaded English teacher. She is terrible, but yet at the same time I can’t feel but that she is misunderstood. I say that now because the end to my life in her class is almost over. But Christmas, though I truly did not want to, I went ahead and gave her a small gift, like I did for all of my teachers. Hey, that’s what Christmas is: putting aside your differences for the glory of God. But when I gave it to her, she almost looked like she was crying, and she hugged me. Granted, the whole thing was a little freaky for me. But I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her, if only in that moment, because I knew that not many of her students would give her something. She can be the devil incardinate.
So, when life gives you lemons, make lemonade. Or apple juice, and let the world wonder how.
The other day, I sent my friend, who now lives in another freaking state, a letter. I’m waiting for his call (since he refuses to write me back, the jerk), and the yelling that will go along with it. Why? Well, when thousands of Twilight fangirls bombard him, I have a feeling that he will not exactly be singing my praises. Yes, yes that’s right: I filled the entire envelope with sparkly glitter, sparkly face glitter to be precise. If you have never been a girl, seven, or gay, who may not know that sparkly face glitter does not come off. Ever.
So, I await his angry phone call with glee. And maniacal laughter.
I am in BCIS class right now, and it is insanely boring. I have some pretty awesome friends in my class, but right now, no one is really talking. Maybe because I’m being rude and typing, ay? There are two guys sitting next to me, and dear GOD, they are annoying. But whatevz, they’re boys, they can’t help it. Laugh like a llama.
Well, tomorrow is my first day of finals and the last day I ever have to listen to my dreaded English teacher. She is terrible, but yet at the same time I can’t feel but that she is misunderstood. I say that now because the end to my life in her class is almost over. But Christmas, though I truly did not want to, I went ahead and gave her a small gift, like I did for all of my teachers. Hey, that’s what Christmas is: putting aside your differences for the glory of God. But when I gave it to her, she almost looked like she was crying, and she hugged me. Granted, the whole thing was a little freaky for me. But I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her, if only in that moment, because I knew that not many of her students would give her something. She can be the devil incardinate.
So, when life gives you lemons, make lemonade. Or apple juice, and let the world wonder how.
1.1.10
A New Beginning
Today is the beginning of a new year, and I plan to make the absolute best of it. I plan to make this a year where I become a better person than I am, a person whose choses to do the right things rather than just ignore them and hope everything turns out alright. I want to be stronger, mentally, and I don't want to give into everyday struggles the way I always have done in the past.
But before one can discuss the beginning, one must look at the end, for what is life but a never-ending cycle? My dear friend's dad died a few days ago. It's a strange feeling, knowing that I just had dinner with him last week, knowing now that that was the last time I would ever see him. It's unnerving to see how quickly a light can be snuffed out, how quickly something stifled. Life goes on in its never-ending circle, and the sun rises on every morning.
But on a happier note, my best friend and one of the most amazing people I know is coming over today. I have known her for almost as long as I can remember: we have been through thick and thin together. We used to play on the playground together at recess! She was the one that introduced me to all of my now favorite movies, and we have so much fun quoting them to each other. But most of all, she is the person who has probably most influenced my life and my desire to become a better person. I don't know—no, I don't want to know what kind of person I would be without her always there by my side growing up, her words of hope, prayer, and love always in my ear. No, that's a lie—I do know the kind of person I would be without her in my life. For a while, she was. And when she was gone, I became a person who I am ashamed of. I became a person who was crude, selfish, and blind to what was going on around me. A person who looked for ways to incorporate swears into her sentences. A person who hated God and blamed him for all of her pain and fears.
So, thank you dear friend for saving me from myself. I love you so much, my unbiological sister. :)