Confessions of a 5'1"

Amnesia

2012-01-16T04:04:00.002+08:00

I see them everywhere, those that people recognize.

They're on billboards, television and department stores.

I even see some of them with my ears when they're on the radio, but that's not all. They're hiding in my magazines, on the web and putting themselves out when they're on stage.

We envy them, we hate them. We adore them and at times even ignore them. I don't understand why there are so many of them, but we're not even close to knowing about half.

I find them slinking around local bars and restaurants, even in the grocery stores.

There's so much expected of them: Charity, volunteering, role modeling. Work, busy, work.

We see them as super-humans, a hero perhaps. Maybe even an imaginary being that can't possibly exist. A display to look at? A picture to pick apart their flaws and criticize their strengths?

What most people forget...

Must I remind you?

They're still just kids.

Things We Say

2011-10-22T16:28:00.002+08:00

Funny things, words.

As empty as they are, you can fill them up with anything you want--the world is yours as long as you say it. That is, until I say it too, then we'd have a Word War between you and me. WWI ? WWII? No, this will be WWIII & the number of casualties will only be 1, either you or me. Don't underestimate the severity of this warfare, there's too many of them going on and too many clever strategies.

Your words can be smothered with hope.

But mine? They're bombs full of hurt.

Supernova Girl

2011-10-22T13:57:00.003+08:00

We all knew that since the day we met her.

There's nothing we can do or stop her, she does what she pleases.

We love her, we hate her, there's not enough of her.

She can amuse the least amused and repulse the least repulsed, there's nothing out of her league.

She leaps when she's supposed to walk, she spins when she's supposed to turn.

She's a curve, not a line and not in italics but a bold with double underlines.

She's a storm in a shade of blue and an inferno waiting to combust.

She considers the unconsidered and ignores the common considerations.

She's a bow in the hair and a bullet in a gun.

She's the plug in the socket and the leak in the roof.

What can I say?

She can blow up at any moment.

She's a dying star.

Painted Wings

2011-10-13T05:14:00.004+08:00

Someone once said that girls who've had their hearts broken become more beautiful.

Maybe it's the countless tears that make their eye shine like stars but with more emotion than what any star can show. Or perhaps the forced smile that we often can relate to. Maybe it's the way they start taking care of themselves more when there's no special man for them to worry about. Sometimes I think its in their walk the day after and the day after that until someone else comes around. The way they pick bits of themselves, and perhaps some of him in the midst of it, up to move forward. I believe its also their experience of the whole love, and most importantly if they're abandoned & scarred or grateful. And rain can fall down on us angry and sad.

"Can't always believe what people say," people say, but we do believe what we say. Most of the time, anyways.

But I am curious...

I wonder who said that.

Partial Metering

2011-10-05T12:47:00.003+08:00

I know why time moves. Its because our world is constantly spinning spinning spinning and loves to dance around the the light of its life--the sun.

I don't know why time doesn't stop. Never. Not if its own kind is out of electricity or by our own attempts through fraud light. It'll keep going with or without a thought of whats happening to it, us or them. I don't understand why it doesn't stop. Does it have no emotion? Then when it is exposed in the physical form, why does it keep a face?

I know why I love. Its because without him, her and them I would find myself lost lost lost and ever so lonely but more than that miserable.

I don't know why love heals and hurts both just as evenly. It takes nearly nothing but a smile or glance and nearly everything of a word to do either. It'll be kind, it'll be cruel to anyone it pleases. I don't understand why one thing can be so contradictory. Does it not feel its very own definition? Then when its acting up, why can't we ever let go?

I know why you act the way you do. Its because your character, your likes and dislikes, those childhood games now grown into adult responsibility: they all have a part in this play of your life. They fluctuate, expand, grow and stretch, keep changing changing changing.

I don't know why you are the way you are, but...

The things I know and the things I don't...

I think I'll be ok with half of each.

Core of the Fruit

2011-09-29T00:08:00.003+08:00

I once knew a girl.

One of the most beautiful in the school.

Many boys would comment on her beauty and figure in the halls, in the classes.

She didn't really have any close friends though, if any.

I liked to observe this girl, and I even talked to her.

But the more you got to know her, the less pretty she became.

That _____.

2011-08-29T14:55:00.001+08:00

Do you know that _______ you get when you see the one you love

sleeping next to you? When they're the most __________ and you've

silently been given the honor to be by them through the night?

That _______ in the pits of your center when you're watching them walk away, even though you know you'll see them again soon. The way you know just what they're thinking or what they're going to say moments before yet its always so ________.

How sometimes words just aren't enough to express the ____ you want to say or show. & Even then you're not quite sure how to _______ the things you want them to _____.

Everything in the back of your mind moments between the second hand;

All at once you're back in that dark room, with the sun peeking shyly through the window and the alarm clock on the nightstand ticking cautiously.

&& then...

Suddenly you can imagine your whole future with them with no end.

First Year of University: The Deaf

2011-08-25T10:04:00.008+08:00

I want to speak their language and hear their voices.

I want to listen to their soundless words and realize how similar we really can be.

I want to know what they hear and what they think of it.

I want to be able to call their name across the field and see them turn around.

I want to open my mouth and be acknowledged.

I want to express myself without the use of words and be understood.

What I want most is to share the silent half of the universe to this world and still be accepted as I am for who I am.

But most of all, I want them to be able to hear music and the indescribable beauty behind every note and pitch...

So I take them by the hand and I draw them into a stepless dance that only we can dance to.

A Dream Full of Tears

2011-08-05T21:57:00.002+08:00

Well, we made Fey (though not my name or how I'm known, who I guess we can say is me) cry, and Sabaki (who virtually I suppose we can call you) cry. And we made an Angel and Thor cry too when they heard about it; it must've been powerful. && our companions! They are not like us-physically built being and conceivably their mental health. Their senses went awry and we've tried to explain ourselves and, most importantly our stories, but I'm not sure if it is they who don't understand or us who can't be certain that we understand the way they understand us. However, if language isn't how we'll communicate: They can listen to our hearts and once they heard, they too couldn't look us in the eye and had to cast their eyes down to cry...

You might be wondering what it is we all know, but if you take the time to truly listen to yourself perhaps you might hear something you've never heard of before or something you've been telling yourself for the longest time.

These tears that we all cry.

I leave it up to you to decide if they're of sorrow, relief, maybe euphoria, or something not quite in between.

Butterfly Season

2011-07-14T00:19:00.001+08:00

To my Special Man

There was once a boy who was really good at lightening moods and making people laugh. He wasn't the most handsome nor the loudest. He just had this manner in the way he smiled that would intrigue us to the point where we just had to ask him,"_____, what are you smiling about?!" & the personality he held when he would express the things only he seemingly saw. All the kids in the class loved being in his presence and there wasn't anything he couldn't brighten-except maybe a lightbulb.

Late one evening I approached him at his favorite swings in the neighborhood park, after everything had really become everything and it wasn't what anyone wanted.

We sat quietly for a moment and the butterflies didn't fly.

"You always cheered me up, why won't you do it right now?!"

He looked at me with bright but forlorn eyes and the smile that no longer held the magic to make the saddest laugh.

"As much as I'd like to, sometimes... you just need to feel the pain."

& for the rest of the night he silently kept me company.

J.R.K.

2011-07-13T23:56:00.004+08:00

10 years gone, 10 years strong-

-even without a word spoken between us.

Like anyone else who doesn't have enough heart to hold all the pains, I'm tired of crying.

&& I can't help missing her.

At A Loss

2011-07-12T15:55:00.005+08:00

These words that I speak... I could never say them with my mouth.

And even then I cannot discern if they are really mine or if I'm only reciting from someone I've heard once or twice before-somewhere I don't quite remember yet seems like a place I've lingered in. How do I know when I'm really being me or when I'm acting with or without the values I'm supposed to have yet who are they to say I'm supposed to really have them or not?

The words in The Bible... they're all truth, are they not? && if one thing is perceived to be wrong, then it would make sense that anything else spoken by it to be fallacious. So which would it be, all truth or should it ought to be considered a false that we that have been following it to be all just a bunch of fools? For something put at this high regard can't possibly be a Book with tidbits of fictitious letters with marks of sincerity. It is meant to be a Book of love!

My faith, my faith why have you forsaken me? Yet still have me bound to your will, tearing my soul to shreds and torturing my thoughts when I dare to think.

And YOU. Are YOU really reading this?

Because I can't be sure I'm the one writing it.

Myna

2011-06-28T13:38:00.003+08:00

Have you ever been to the beach at night? The waves rolling towards the shore seem to glow against the darkness of the ocean and one would seem to see things moving between. I got the chance to a few days ago & while looking into the night sky I saw the clouds pretending to be nebulas and the stars pretending to be stars. I never had the feeling of being this small and alone in my life.

Having that special person by your side in the morning and early afternoon and to walk down the same beach at night by yourself is something near to heart break. The emptiness consuming your vulnerability in the vast space is terrifying and the yearn for the one who's not with you is overwhelming. Something like that isn't a feeling I would want to experience again.

How should I say this?

You're more important to me than what the both of us could recognize.

Falling Stars

2011-06-26T10:43:00.000+08:00

They fall like dead men from the sky,

impaling the air with flames, ice and leftover breaths.

Their bodies collide with the ground in a blistering eruption we can't quite fathom no matter how many times we see it. Standing-as that's all they're capable of now that they have no more wings-up, their silhouette marks strange in the smoke and sizzling terrain. Sick and tired, they jumped from the roof top of the world. They refuse to put up with the dreams anymore.

Do the stars above mean anything to you? Do you realize that every night it gets darker when they're not there?

The children, like myself, who watch them from their bedrooms make sport of their decent and fabricate wishes on their glimmering figures.

All we're really doing is catching bullets with our teeth.

This World

2011-06-11T09:47:00.005+08:00

I've been shown the world is actually the lungs of nature.

During the day it inhales-the sunlight, the colors exploited by imaginations and most importantly what we leave for it. During the night it exhales-the darkness, the existence it upholds strenuously and most importantly prepares the necessities for the ones that kill it the most.

I've been given the world I don't deserve.

I have the opportunities I don't take and food I like. I possess items that often get put up in a shelf in my closet never thought of again and a number of clothes to choose from with a variety of styles and hues. I live with a family I can eat dinner with and hold, I am shown and given love daily; something not everyone can say for themselves.

I've been taught the world is comprised of light and dark things.

When it rains there are clouds that smother what the sky could have been but there is the rain that reflects your eyes and the lightening that illuminates our souls. When the sun is bathing, she blazes everything and anything her locks of hair falls upon, but where there is the light there is a shadow as consequence just as monumental. When we are hurting we strive for darkness, to be hidden away and unnoticeable, but only a fraction of us are able to realize that what we really wanted was to be in a light so bright you can't even see the tears.

There are things I'm unable to appreciate enough, so please.

Appreciate them with me and breathe.

Sticks and Stones May Break my Bones

2011-06-02T14:00:00.001+08:00

I don't understand how words can sting so much

when they can't even touch you.

Two Pains

2011-06-01T01:28:00.004+08:00

There are two pains among two people. Each has their own and I wonder which do you hold?

Although you can't hurt the way I do, you won't hurt the way I do; no matter how hard you try...

There's nothing you can do about it, because we're not the same person. You'll end up hurting less or more, more physically or more emotionally.

But which is worse?

The feeling where you can't sympathize entirely, can't fully understand the torment they sustain-physically there but emotionally unable to reach the consciousness they're trapped in?

The feeling of a pain only you can feel, solitary and not utterly cut off from others but still at an unreachable distance enough to make a difference?

The helpful that's quite helpless & the one who's hurting a hurt only they can feel.

Which one are you and which one am I?

Paper Walls

2011-05-19T03:53:00.003+08:00

These paper walls so thin, so fragile.

Ignited, incinerated. So gentle so beautiful & destructively elegant. Infernos pirouette all around us grasping at the pieces until all it seems to be are hallucinations.

The light reflects from our eyes as we watch them burn down; ash like snow.

I'm not afraid with his breath hushed next to my ear, his warmth greater than the blazes flickering at our feet. The beating of his heart-more soothing than any drug.

These paper walls so thin, so fragile.

I don't need them when all I need is you.

Proverbs 27:18 & 1 John 3:2

2011-05-13T01:46:00.000+08:00

I opened a gift my mother gave me more than two years ago today.

I had left it in the back of one of my drawers, knowing what it was already and having no interest forgotten about it until now.

How ungrateful I was.

It was a small book, "Faith's Checkbook", a verse for every day of the year. The pages were stuck to each other due to being tightly wrapped for such a long time and I found myself engulfed in something unfamiliar. I flipped through the pages and could feel and hear the paper crack, unaccustomed to being open. She had given me a similar book before, "Grace for each Moment". I somehow knew exactly where it was and took it out, brushing off the dust.

I wasn't feeling empty before, but neither was I feeling anymore complete from having found these two gifts. Is this normal? Am I missing the Him? Faith?

I read today's verse from both books and wanted to share them. Perhaps it will have more meaning to you.

Whoever keeps the fig tree will eat its fruit; so he who waits on his master will be honored.

What will be has not yet been made known. But we know that when he appears, we shall be like Him.

Here's The Real One, Maximus

2011-05-13T01:25:00.000+08:00

There's only so much I can do for you, the rest is determined by yourself only. Your pain is too much for me to comprehend though it brings me to tears as well.

I'm no good with talking or giving advice and I figure you already know that. I never was as clever as you. The way you speak and recount your stories...

You understand a lot and you know this, but in all honesty you don't.

Even you know this isn't fair. The way you used to be happy and now you've forgotten.

This is all I can give to you.

"Life is beautiful. Everyone's life is beautiful. You should try sticking around some, you'll see."
You told me that one night--& I finally understand.

Your life is beautiful. You should try sticking around some, you'll see.

I'm telling you that now. Have you ever seen it when the sun's rays hits it in just the right angles? Or if there is no sun, the way it glows under the moonlight and the stars? Even if there is no moon or stars, have you seen the luminescence around it? Around you...?

Happiness is closer than you can imagine.

Mirror Mirror On The Wall

2011-05-08T03:57:00.002+08:00

It fell today.

That mirror my mother put on the wall.

I need to learn to let go of material possessions but seeing the little box that was underneath the mirror splintered across my bedroom floor shattered bits of my heart too.

It honestly had no monetary value, incomparable to the mirror. It was a gift from someone whom I can't even recall. The shards and pieces I gathered into a pile together were more than just fragments of wood it felt like I was trying to hold on. But to what?

In the end I turned the mirror over and examined for damage. I didn't find any parts of the frame or mirror broken but I did find something in my reflection that was.

Closure

2011-04-06T15:44:00.002+08:00

He's one of those guys who doesn't like arguments and would try to avoid it at all costs, though if one were to happen he likes to make up. It could even be counted as a hobby had any disputes ever really happened between us.
He can be impatient, but he has a kind and light heart, I'd say he loves to laugh. He gets forgetful sometimes but he finds a way to make me smile and reconcile.
Whenever I'd cry he'd stay up with me, even if it was 3 in the morning and he had to be at work by 7; refusing to go to sleep until I fell asleep first. At those times he wouldn't really know what to say, but he didn't need to. Just his company was enough.
He was very caring, and would ask if I was okay every time I had a little cough. It would make me smile.

He used to tease me about how much I slept-almost like a cat; if not more, calling me 'Sleeping Beauty'. He used to sing to me often, especially "My Everything" by 98 Degrees because I would request it all the time. He had it memorized by heart.

Remember the good, not the bad.

I remember a long time ago I would wonder why any girl could ever let such a great guy go, but I think I understand now.

Regardless,
It's called breaking up... because its broken.

It still hurts;

But this is my closure & the start of constructing recuperation.

8.9.10 - 4.2.11

No Title

2011-04-03T14:48:00.002+08:00

That is all.

Je Me Perds

2011-03-31T01:51:00.002+08:00

When I first arrived on this world it hurt, yet by some means I felt happy. And you... You wanted it all. You wanted the world.

Free my senses, I want to breathe raw air.

Its really true isn't it?

We're somehow living through today,

But do it with your own standards, not mine.

Venus

2011-03-31T01:38:00.004+08:00

I'm going to keep this short for my sake.

What the hell are you doing?

I'm going to tell you this for our sake.

I love you...

But don't be afraid to break my heart if thats what we both need.

This Is...

2011-03-28T02:23:00.003+08:00

The subtle murmurs of liquid, the endeavors of technology to count time. A bird, thats not a bird, in the Eastern part of my mind so it can be the first to proclaim when the sun, thats not a sun but actually the process of thought, ascends. The sigh of shreds of a hurricane as it blindly explores wherever it can reach.

This is the sound I hear.

The bionic energy in the form of lights that glow because that is all it is capable of. A wisp filled with innumerable slivers of glitter that represent the strain, peace and cyborg emotions surrounding me. The life & death of imperceptible beings, creatures and objects containing more worth than I could ever imagine.

This is the air I breathe.

The streams skillful in suffocation and charm; a vicious expertise indeed. A cup containing a drop of everything humanity is missing yet the stars embrace each other with. The vigor that we all require in order for the mechanics of our anatomy to function with or without complications.

This is the water I drink.

If you would just close your eyes,

This is the world I see.

Yes, I'm Talking To You

2011-03-18T01:08:00.001+08:00

I guess this is us, here for each other.

But with you over there and me watching you from afar with lips that can't seem to smile.

I don't know about you but I don't feel it anymore, that bond that we used to have. The one that kept you up to 3 AM just because I couldn't sleep. The same one that drove us to want to talk for hours and hours... when you had time for me.

I think you feel it too, the small empty space in your heart. At least, for a little while until you began to fill it with other things in your life. Mine's still here though and its pretty damn cold when the air blows through it.

I had the dropping feeling since the first time you didn't keep up with me anymore. The kind that makes your stomach knot and churn. I'd always get that tiny bit of hope that you would again, like you said. But I think it was only to protect myself from getting hurt all at once. I've been quiet for a while now and maybe I'm ready to admit we aren't close anymore.

I suppose its my fault for this outcome. For being too meek, too timid. For waiting. I remember when you apologized to me those times and I'd tell you that some things can't wait but I could. I was wrong, I shouldn't have waited or been scared to open up again. I should have fought for our friendship, for something so priceless. I read something on a blog a while ago and it made me go into tears. The ones you told me to call you whenever they came but I haven't. "When you really matter to someone, that person will always make time for you. No excuses, no lies and no broken promises."

I'm going to leave soon. Not only because of this throb but also because I'm tired of being pressured and guilted to cam or show my lingerie while I wait for you.

And when I do leave, I have a feeling you'll let me simple as that.

But really, I'd rather hear you say, "____, please don't go."

This Is What I Want

2011-03-07T09:01:00.003+08:00

When I laugh, I want to hear yours too.

There's nothing like sharing a language anyone can understand.

When I hug, I want to be hugged back.

There's nothing like the safety of being in someone's arms.

When I cry, I want your shirt to soak up my tears.

There's nothing like the instantaneous comfort as you open up freely.

When I'm this alone, I want your companionship.

There's nothing like recognizing a friend in times of need.

When I sleep, I want to feel you next to me.

There's nothing like the presence of someone you love next to you when you're most vulnerable.

When all has been given out I presume its reasonable to feel empty.

There's nothing...

But something tells me thats not how things are supposed to be.

I Think I Needed One Of These, What About You?

2011-02-28T13:49:00.002+08:00

I want you to know there's a place between your nose and chin that a lot of people call a smile and I'm sure I'm not speaking for myself when I tell you that I'd like to see it over and over again. Sometimes you give in, but there were moments when you'd tell me it wasn't worth the pain and it would make me bite my lip 'til it bled.

"Why do you keep doing it?" you'd ask in silence. Most of the time I'd just shrug or pretend I didn't hear you. Its because I didn't know either. But I have an answer now and I want you to know before you swallow.

Its not something worth running away from.

Its not something for me to run away from.

Most of all, not you either.

Experiencing what you are now isn't because of unluckiness or a curse. It's just an inconvenience we have to overcome.

If you just hold my hand, everything will get better.

Response

2011-02-18T22:58:00.002+08:00

Is it weird that I read what you wrote the minute after you posted it up? The timing seems unreal.

I'm not sure if you'll see this, since you're not coming here anymore. I'm not even sure if what you mean is that we shouldn't talk anymore. Was I left behind this whole time after you left everything else for the better life? I was wanting to text you today and finally have a real conversation, but I'm scared now. Why am I scared?

However... this post isn't to speak on that. Its to thank you.

Thank you for the patience-you dealt with my sluggish pace even though your life is like an open high way.

Thank you for the effort-put into me, your words, your actions.

Thank you for the guidance-the advice, the things that helped myself shape and define my own even more.

But thank you the most for the time-something that can't be changed or returned after it is used. Nearly two years and here we are now.

I'm truly glad that you are happier; life is going up.

Even if it is without me.

Before I Forget

2011-02-08T14:42:00.000+08:00

I had a dream last night.

Like how most dreams turn out after you wake up, I don't remember the details or much of the surroundings. But I can remember a gist of what was happening.
I was semi-omniscient on the events in this dream and I shifted between the two main individuals in turn. They were good friends, possibly even lovers the boy and the girl. They were participating in this days long race; to where I wasn't sure. The two of them had passed preliminaries together and had promised each other that they would get through it together and their hopes were high. However, somewhere along the competition, the man ended up leaving the girl to go on ahead.

I remember, his running shoes were yellow.

He got further and further ahead without even a look back. The girl continued onwards as well, and she kept trying... trying so hard to catch up so they could finish this together. Eventually, reaching the end of the race wasn't what she was straining and destroying her body for. It became the man who had left her behind. All she wanted was to be at his side again and she cursed herself for being so weak-so slow. She didn't give up and I commend her for it. But what of the promise that continued to abrade every step he took away from her?

He finished the race alone, quite very alone. Did he feel pride in himself for doing so well? Was he proud of his strength and his stamina? What of the girl, did he think of her struggling days behind him or did he keep his sight forwards? His shoes were all but worn away, torn and beyond repair---just like that promise to make it to the finish. Together or never.

I had this dream last night and it broke my heart.

I Won't Tell A Soul

2011-02-05T09:03:00.000+08:00

There's a cliff nearby where I live that overlooks the lake. The entrance is chained off and an invisible path leads further in past the arms of trees. It was the first time I saw someone there other than myself but I wasn't surprised. It was as if the girl was waiting for me. I didn't recognize her, but there are many things I don't recognize.

She had been crying, the tears dried by the wind on her flushed cheeks. Her eyes, however, were empty and hollow, her lips cracked and pressed closed tightly. I was tempted to whisper in her ear:
"Don't hold your breath, you'll miss the air."

But I held back as she exhaled delicately and drew in a stream of life like she knew what was dancing on my tongue. Instead, we sat there with our sides pressed against one another as we faced the bitter weather from both sides and looked out on infinity blue.

This? Why this is the loneliness of two.

I Promised You One Of These, But This Wasn't Supposed To Be It

2011-01-29T12:16:00.000+08:00

Exactly 1,883 miles away, a door closes. When I laid there after you left, thinking about it, its pretty strange to be able to hear something that far away... its also pretty strange how much it hurts as well.

The sound of the hinges creaking wrenches something undefinable inside and the finale when its finally shut echoes away into silence . No applause, no standing ovation. Then there's afterwards. When I sit up and the emptiness; the loneliness embraces me and I am hollowed. There's a reason why I'm indecisive. Its simply my method of avoiding self-inflicted disappointment that coexists with any decision I make. I don't want to keep you from anything, but your company is also really nice. Does that make me selfish? My fault, my bad.

When I hear that door close between my dear friend and I?
My heart drops and I can't seem to find it again.
Maybe because its one thousand, eight hundred and eighty-three miles from me.

I Hope You're Reading This

2011-01-28T03:19:00.000+08:00

Dear _______,

To start this off with something important: Volim te puno.

In case you forgot, I wanted to remind you again.

Here is the space of things I want to say but can't express in words, but sometimes there are things you don't need to say to get across.

Do you remember a while ago when I told you I didn't know what I wanted? I still don't, really. However I do know what I don't want, and thats us falling apart.

Like I said before, somethings can't wait but I can. I'll still be here.

We don't seal things with glue, a lick or a kiss.

For us, this is

Forever & Always

-Djevojka

Because I Don't Believe In Things Like Fate.

2011-01-27T04:39:00.000+08:00

我想問你一個問題。。。

你愛我嗎？你真的愛不愛我。
你為什麼選擇我？

我不會滿足，如果你告訴我 "因為這是命中註定的"。
因為我不相信命運。

Waiting For A Miracle

2011-01-24T15:28:00.000+08:00

I feel like if I stay around too much, there's bound to be a wreck soon.

I'm taking a break, and the next time you ask me why I'm crying or upset, I don't want to have to lie and tell you its allergies.

I'm getting away from this time bomb before it kills us both.

"I Want You To Start From Kindergarten"

2011-01-23T14:37:00.000+08:00

But I'm going to start from when I was two. That was when I had a set goal in mind every day when I woke up. When the only thing that could make me upset was being forced to eat vegetables at dinner.

Then I was five, when I thought my brother was the most miraculous being alive for being able to press this button on a children's book to make it talk when every time I tried, I failed.

Kindergarten was a short dream. I learned the most I ever would in a year there. How to tell the weather, communicating, sharing. I learned crafts, the importance of specific things, the joys of never being alone. But then again, that was a time when we were all clueless about reality.

In Grade 1 was when I first really became "shy". I finally had a vague realization that the words 'best friend' didn't apply to every person in my class. This was also when I began to be wary of my brother.

By the time Grade 2 ended, I had experienced my first big loss, not a missing barbie shoe, but a person. I also had my first incident of bullying and being an outcast.

Before Grade 3, I had purposely committed my first minor felony and realized I'm not a person who can stand the weight of guilt. After Grade 3, I found two new loves in the form of one person.

Grade 4 was a year of rest.

The summer before Grade 5 was when I had to leave my safety to a place of unknown. I participated in friendlessness that year.

Sometime in Grade 6 was when my brother deemed me "unworthy to have our family name" in front of both me and our parents, it was my introduction to low self esteem and the feeling of being valueless.

I experienced my first death in Grade 7. I spent months crying after my cat was gone.

Grade 8 is when I felt normal for the longest time in my life.

Somehow, Grade 9 became the year of most drama, but also the year I enjoyed and appreciated the most despite losing someone to time.

I was slowly losing my grip on the things most important in Grade 10, but I couldn't bring myself to hold on any tighter. I was accepted into a family this year that I am sometimes ashamed to admit felt closer than my own.

I tried to regain the things I lost the year right after in Grade 11, and I'm still not exactly sure how well I did, but it was the year I actually felt like someone who was capable of achieving notable things.

The two months before Grade 12 was when I was isolated from nearly everyone but surrounded by even more was when I felt true loneliness and had caught a fever that showed me what delirious was like. I wasn't sure what I was doing when the school year finally started, I had to give up a dream to reality. It was slowly slipping from me anyways, so it wasn't as painful as it would seem.

It's been 3 weeks since my graduation from high school and I'm the most lost and confused I have ever been. I'm going in circles and I'm tired of ending up in the same spot. I want to move but I don't know in what direction. I haven't decided what sort of person I am yet, maybe you know and could tell me.

This is my evaluation.

I Never Meant For Warfare.

2011-01-17T08:45:00.000+08:00

I'm a prisoner of war for nothing.

There's whole generations fighting out there. For success? For love? For life?
People have always said I'd never make it. I'm not meant for greatness, I'm not destined to become one of them. Guess you ought to get your armor before we clash.

Strange how when we're finally facing each other on that battlefield, neither of us can remember what we're fighting for.
I think I'll put down my sword and drop my shield.

In reality, we're just a couple of kids trying to stay alive.
In dreams, we are alive.

Life Cycle

2011-01-16T13:55:00.000+08:00

There's this girl. I'd like to say who she is, but that would make this difficult for me to write. So there's this girl.

She's pretty typical, enjoys shopping, eating sweets and worries about needless things. She delights in cute and cuddly creatures, soft pillows and colors. On weekends she likes to snuggle under the blankets until noon when the day is most alive. She cares for her hair like a second pet next to her cat that keeps her company when she sleeps and painting her nails different colors makes her jubilant. Happy is her goal.

But she has this problem. She tends to set herself up for disappointment. Her daydreams drift too far and she loses her stability. She makes herself believe in things that won't come true but convinces herself until the very last day and very last moment that it would happen. And when it doesn't, she's crushed. She'll sulk, and she'll mope. She'll cry, and when she cries-she cries. Then, as if it had never happened she'll do it all over again with a smile.

Repeat.

That is the awful life of a girl, naive and dumb.
A girl I suppose I could now call me.

Am I Someone To You?

2011-01-14T11:25:00.000+08:00

Its kinda funny how we take certain things to heart.

Have you ever been a nobody before? Just another pair of lungs taking up air? It leaves a pit in my stomach, so empty and so cold. Nobody gives a damn about her, especially the one who should have the most.

Have you ever found a light in that pit? One so warm and compassionate that chased away all that darkness? She held onto that light-her new family,never again did she want to go back for she was finally someone.

Someone people cared about, someone people saw. Someone that wouldn't be passed or ignored. All it really takes... is just one person.

Have you ever felt that light dying, feel the tenderness dwindle away? See the glow get eaten alive by the shadows from before? It's sad to never be acknowledged, but to have a taste of that hand pulling you away from the wall, the light finally falling in your eyes and to be pushed back to the same place as before is a tragedy.

And when that heart is torn up from the same feelings they tried to get away from from the start;
I just want to ask, is it still funny?

Sick & Twisted

2011-01-08T17:42:00.000+08:00

Sick. So so sick. You are.
Disgusting and sad, yet so hurtful.
I have finally met you, the fucked up people Luis tells me about. Those who take self pleasure in bringing anyone down. The ones that laugh at someone else's discomfort and pain, reveling when you can amplify the torment. You are built from mockery and control. Your eyes seek only weakness and your ears deaf but to the lament of your victims.

That's what you are, sick and twisted, so sick and twisted...
I wish I could take every last tear you left me with and gouge what "heart" you have in your rotting flesh of a body. I hope you choke on your malice and it shreds your throat open from the inside out.
You repulse me the most.

Solitare

2011-01-08T14:48:00.000+08:00

I think I'm afraid of going to sleep. Because thats when secrets aren't secrets anymore, when the only thing that protects you is darkness and even that is something we can't trust to keep our raw self from the things that want to hurt it.

Its actually probably not even that, but the insecurities that keep swarming my mind while I lay there and jump from thought to thought without clear reasoning. I can't focus anymore, or maybe there's just nothing for me to focus on.

I believe its just the realization, as I'm propped up against a pillow on my bed in the lightless environment. The low hum of the computer, the silence from my phone and the emptiness. No matter what, when you fall asleep you are utterly alone-in mind and sense-until you wake up again.

I used to love playing that card game. That is, before I was aware of how alone I was playing it.

They'll Listen

2011-01-05T03:11:00.000+08:00

I sung for you one time and you were so quiet after the song was over. I asked if everything was okay and got silence. I suppose I'm used to receiving nothing as an answer but it still hurt. Eventually you lifted your head and told me you've never heard anything like that in a while, "How do you do it?"

It was my turn to be quiet. I used to have a dream that I kept chasing. You looked so sad and broken in front of me, so I took your hands in mine. "Listen," I say softly, and you do. That's what makes you the first person I look for when I'm standing on that stage in front of hundreds, thousands and millions.

"I used to be the kid that nobody cared about, you just have to keep shouting until they hear you out."

Its Never Fair

2011-01-05T02:57:00.000+08:00

Photo by: Tristan Savatier

"If you're lonely, put your finger there and I'll think of you"

I want you to look at me, and I'll look at you. You might smile or you might not, but you can be sure I will.

We spend a lot of time; talking. I suppose its a bit expensive-words can be quite costly these days-but we do it anyways. We get what we pay for, don't we?

My mother tells me its bad to swear, but for you I will. I swear I'll cut across the gray skies and color them blue by hand. I'll push the corners of your mouth up for a smile. I'll have chicken pot pie ready for you whenever you're sick. I'll lose my heartbeat to hear yours one last time. And, I'll always have my hand ready to pick you up again, even if you take someone else's instead...

The Suggestion

2011-01-02T13:11:00.000+08:00

Maybe we'll start feeling the air fall, maybe I'll finally get to hold the warmth of your heart in my hands, and maybe the moon will be too bright but it won't change my mind.

What an exquisite voice!
I suppose if he suggested for me to eat the fruit, I would have without a thought. You should know that I rob, I don't steal. We're all sinners here, promise.

&& They'll Keep Coming

2010-12-24T09:46:00.000+08:00

Disappointment. Dis-appoint-ment. This, a point meant, was what she received.

She tries to let it pass her by, maybe if she doesn't acknowledge it it would simply leave her alone. But the problem is, it took a liking to her and it stops to play with her hair, to blow a breath of sadness in her face. It finds her inability to retaliate something humorous and pleasing, an excuse to linger.

It sleeps all night and all morning too. At those times, she's oblivious and believes herself free. She goes out with friends and spends her time radiantly, she sure knows how to smile. But at evening it lurks, and spotting its prey looms overhead. That is when she learns of the rejection, the let downs the "can't"s. She sees the chances too far from her grasp, she hears the "no" and feels the wind from the closing doors.

She wants to reach higher, to stand on her tippy toes, to refuse to take it as an answer-to knock again. But as she raises a hand, it falls back down. Her energy is consumed from day to day and inside, she is defeated.

She can still smile, you really ought to see it, and her laugh is something to listen to. Even if they're forced and muddled with tears, they'll keep coming because that's all she can do. Things disappointment can't steal off her lips or from her voice. Her only act of rebellion as she obediently drops her aspirations and wishes.

The only thing she manages to acquire is a pat on the head for turning away from everything she ever held her breath for.

Perhaps You're a Supernova

2010-12-20T16:20:00.000+08:00

Its been months now since we've started talking. We got along easily since the beginning, I'm not sure how it happened. I don't even remember meeting you at all. It's strange, but I'm not alarmed.

I usually worry about one thing or another constantly, even in my sleep. But since you've been here I finally feel peace and I realize everything is okay. I wonder where you came from. You're living on your own and though you don't say it, I know you're lonely.

You've told me that you're not used to being dependent, that you're usually the one who worries about others. Sometimes, you've got to let me do the worrying for you. It's what friends do, right? We'll take it on hand in hand.

And you're a Guardian Angel, I'm sure. You're a natural comforter and the one people confine their thoughts to. Whenever I'm upset, you're somehow present and ready to pick me up again. But are you really my angel?

Lets Go

2010-12-15T07:55:00.000+08:00

Whenever I went to late night parties, somehow I would end up sitting somewhere along a wall or by myself on the couch with an unopened can of sprite in my hand. There would be the smell of weed in the air and the sound of heavy liquor going down down down. I could hear the sex in their words when they spoke, I could feel the intentions behind their eyes, the drugs in their bags. I'd catch sight of you dancing without a thought of the world, the music in your veins, and smile.

You enjoyed taking my hand and dragging me to these places. I would follow without a word or complaint, so humor me. You always did. These nights never really ended well, but how can we really expect them to? I'd turn away from your slim figure and watch the predators prowl. If I blinked, they would be gone. Sometimes you'd take me into a bedroom and we would sit on the floor together, our backs against the bed. Whenever we left the room, your "friends" would give you a high five.

Early morning when it was still dark, we'd be walking, your arm heavy around my shoulders. Ever since I met you, you've been good at holding your alcohol. I think you held mine too, just because you were that great of a friend. Our steps would slow as we got to the end of the street and routinely we would turn and face each other.

"Never... have I felt so alive," You'd tell me breathlessly in my ear as you pull me into a tight hug.

I'd think of the 'you' I once knew.

"You don't even know alive anymore," I'd say and give you a kiss on the cheek goodnight.

Spencer.

2010-12-06T01:56:00.000+08:00

-Yes ma'am, my pleasure.

-You're so polite.

-I'm a gentleman with these things.

-I'm glad, it makes me smile.

-I'm glad. I worry that you don't smile enough.

I Won't Fall

2010-11-24T14:26:00.000+08:00

It's dark and this is the third day I can't sleep, maybe because I keep dreaming of what's already gone. There's a lot of different kinds of silences, but the kind when even darkness is still is the one I'm afraid of the most. I'm too used to hearing your voice or your breath next to my ear. When it's not there, it tears right through me. We both know I'm not that strong, but I think you forgot. I might be the only one who remembers me.

And once you find me again,
"_____, don't cry" you'll tell me. I'll look at you with tears in my eyes and say, "Yes."

I'll keep trying because that's what I said I would do from the start.
But for tonight, I guess I'll just pretend that I'm not alone.

No Title For This One

2010-10-26T11:33:00.000+08:00

Dear World,

You've taken 15 people out of my life. You've managed to strip the things I kept close to my heart. You did a really good job of that. You've disordered my emotions and peeled away at my soul. You've kept me sleep deprived and working late. I've nearly given up multiple times.

I heard that "Strength is nothing more than how well you hide the pain."
I resent that.

Strength is how well you are able to turn the pain into your advantage.
Pain doesn't need to be hidden, that only proves how afraid you are of being human.

I'm going to keep waking up in this hell just to spite and irritate you. I might get slower at getting up everyday, but you better damn well know I'll be standing no matter how empty you have made me. All that shit you played on me? Its what keeps pulling me up.

Sincerly,
Me

P.S. Fuck you.

This is Physics, not Chemistry.

2010-10-18T00:44:00.001+08:00

You deserve more.

Hmm. I don't need more. I just need you.

You want a weak little sick girl?

No. I need one.

What's the use of one?

To remind me. Everyone needs to be loved and cared for.

You're a great guy, did you know that?

Right when you told me. I believed it.

Because I want everyone to know how remarkable it is to have a best friend like him.

I Hope This Helps

2010-10-17T00:39:00.000+08:00

I met a man waiting at the airport bus stop a week ago.

He paused before stepping through the doors.
Turning back to me, he had the soft, concerned look of a father who realized his mistakes as he raised his own child and lived with the guilt of reducing his family from 3 to 2 just so he could follow his own dreams.
"I'm not afraid to keep on living.
You shouldn't be either." he told me and boarded the vehicle.

I sat there, thinking those words over. I scrambled them, I rolled them. I tore them apart and put them back together. But what I was looking for was exactly how he gave it to me.

By that time, another man took a seat next to me. I think I probably missed a few of my buses by then. He was dressed well, with a clean face and smoothed hair. There were a few wrinkles near his eyes, but he didn't look that old. His shoes were dead black and coated with a light layer of dirt from travel. He had his coat hung over an arm and was speaking quietly on the phone in his other hand. From the tone and the way his brows furrowed so often I could guess it wasn't going well.

After he closed the call, his hand slumped into his lap defeated and he had the look of power and wealth but gave off the energy of someone crushed. I didn't know what I was thinking, but as he stood up to board I spoke aloud the words the previous man left for me. He paused in his path, the only acknowledgement that he heard me. He didn't turn around or respond but then continued up the steps, but he was seated next to a window and as the bus drove forward I could catch the glimmer of tears on his cheeks.

I think I understand what he meant now.

Makes No Sense

2010-10-02T03:36:00.002+08:00

Why are people so nice to me?

How can they care that much for a stranger?

It makes me cry even more than when I actually get hurt.

Titleless

2010-10-02T03:21:00.000+08:00

[Insert picture here]

I'm not crazy. Really. I know that's what most actual crazy people tell them, but I have enough evidence to prove I am not so. Just because you don't know doesn't mean you can push that word on me.

They keep questioning me with the commons. Did you get in a fight with your friends? They're deaf to my answer I've been telling them the whole time. Are you pregnant? I don't think it's out of ignorance, but misunderstanding. Is everything OK at home? Things really are complicated to understand when they haven't been where I've been, seen what my eyes saw. It's not boyfriend problems, is it? Some things are just too much-but it might actually be too little. Hey. I'm an unhappy girl. Glad we have that established.

After a struggle with school authority they finally let me go, after all; that is what I've been pleading for them to let me do the past hour. I'm a little afraid to drive now. On the highways, I've been having these fantasies where my hands gradually turn the steering wheel to the left and the next lucky car is the winner and we both are thrown into an explosion of glittering lights. I kind of like that. To be part of an instantaneous beauty that only a few lucky to none get to see. Once in a lifetime.

But before I actually play it out I remember the orange butterfly I almost hit earlier. It was a fragile thing, but not lacking in charm. The tiny creature was fighting its way across the air and the way it struggled. That particular beat of its wings and its effort. I pressed on the brakes and the butterfly was sucked by the air flow up past the windshield and over. That wasn't the kind of beauty I wanted to create. Then I would think about the other driver. They never did have a say in my artful scheme and I would force myself to keep the car straight.

I do admit that I'm not stable-at least not anymore. But crazy? Never.

How Much Longer

2010-09-29T14:12:00.000+08:00

It's obvious I haven't been writing. Or at least haven't been using my heart.

It's hard to do that now, especially when I've given it to someone.

But it's also the lack of inspiration and the stress just beating away at me.

I wish I were stronger. That'd be nice.

I've managed to be getting 6-7 hours of sleep daily and yet I'm constantly exhausted and without energy. I never could figure out why until maybe partially today. I think I'm unconsciously purposefully breaking down my body. Testing myself how far I can go until I completely malfunction and splinter to pieces. I've been pushing it since school started. A job that leaves me in shifts where I close at 11.30 at night depending on the day, and not getting home until around midnight, staying into the AM's even when my body has been begging for sleep. Stressing over my classes despite the fact that I'm taking less vigorous classes. Crying to myself randomly, but becoming more often. Eating less in quantity and in terms of healthiness, sometimes forgetting my lunch completely and living off a meal a day. Jogging early morning before going to school and sneaking snippits of naps during classes.

Perhaps that isn't really a lot to be putting upon oneself, but for the weak and small body I have the wear is beginning to show. Through my lack of spirit-school wise, home-wise and a mask of pretend at work. Through my act of communicating with others as least as I can no matter who they are-except perhaps a special individual. He takes away this weight I feel, everything is tranquil around him. But I don't want him to know my issues, these black things. I hide it from him and everything is ok.

But what happens after I break?

July 3, 2010.

2010-07-04T09:40:00.000+08:00

I didn't put her real picture, for her safety, so I drew her instead.

It doesn't really capture her beauty, & I apologize.

Happy 17th Birthday, my lifetime best friend even though

I don't think you'll ever see this.

I know its been a long time, about a year now that we haven't seen each other. But you know what? You're still my best friend. Even though we haven't talked for months. We both realize that we're only a text, a call, an email, a message away from one another and our hearts have always been right next to each other.

I wanted to remind you today that you know me. I know that sounds kind of funny, but I don't know how else to word it.

I'm still that girl you got into reading in Grade 3 & 4.
I'm still that girl you literally save every Friday in PE class when we run the track.
I'm still that girl you played pretend/imagine with every breathing moment in elementary.
I'm still that girl you wrote letters to after I moved in Grade 5+
I'm still that girl you co-wrote stories with all day when we would visit.
I'm still that girl you spooned with those days we went to Mexico together and spent hours at night up because we couldn't stop laughing.

No matter how much we change, physically-mentally; I still know you and you me. Of course there will be times where we would stop and look at each other and wonder who this other person is, but thats ok- Because we would realize: This is my sister. My best friend, this is she and I accept that.

Or we would end up beating each other up over why we changed so much.

Go on. Go on.

This is your life and I hope you're living it the way you want. Are you who you want to be? Is today how you saw it? What makes you feel alive?

If you ever need, hell even when you don't, anyone you know where I am.

I'll listen, I'll cry.
I'll find what it is you need, I'll help.
I'll laugh, I'll love.
I'll order that meal for you.
I'll beat up that person.
I'll brush your cat.

And, ok.
I'll admit it: I miss you.

Happy birthday again, J, RainNose, Kaye, Jeni, whatever alias you are under.
Love you more than any hormone infested boy will.

-Me.

Judgement

2010-05-27T11:28:00.000+08:00

Can you forgive me?

What if I wanted to run away.
What if I wasn't running from you.
Are you able to see past the blood on my hands? The corpse before me?
Look at me, and tell me if what you see is who I am.
Would you take the place of this man?

I lower my head in disappointment and the nails fall from my hands
You turn in the opposite direction and begin to walk away.
I'm just waiting for someone to pick me up off the floor.
To engulf me in strong arms and tell me:
"It's ok. We're all guilty of the same things."

You are forgiven.

Perspectives

2010-05-21T08:44:00.000+08:00

There was this boy I used to talk to last year. He lived on my street and we'd always walk home together after school and have the most peculiar conversations. He was a strange one, after all.

I asked him one day about the half full or half empty glass question, "Which do you see?" There wasn't a hesitation in his response, "Neither, I'd be trying to figure out what exactly was in the cup."

"What if it was your soul?"
"Why would it only take up half the glass?"
"Maybe you just have a small soul."
"Maybe I'll just eat yours and mine will grow."
"Fuck off, it's mine...."

One Friday, I stopped him in the middle of the street with the rain drenching our shapeless bodies. A few cars honked at us to move, but they only joined in with Nature's symphony in the background. We stood still for a moment and I made a grab for his hand and placed it over my heart.

"Do you feel that?" I asked him. He'd only nod.
"It's ticking like a cheap clock," I explain. "But it still tells the time, even if it's a few minutes-or an hour off."

I watched him get under the shelter of his front porch and slowly look back at me with a kind smile. There always was enough sun for us both.

I was the strange one, after all.

Does This Make Sense?

2010-04-30T06:58:00.000+08:00

So, I'm not sure where to start this; but I suppose I already have. Last night after our conversation I couldn't sleep, and then later I did. And I was not bothered until I woke up again. I had my break, as did it but I didn't want it to come back so soon. Perhaps I shall nap again and take my escape.

But what if I was to awake somewhere unfamiliar? Flowers woven in my hair and a song waiting to be stolen by the birds down below. What am I to think?

I do not understand.
It must be because I am too simple, I don't perceive the depths of words. I have too soon set limits on them and the original doesn't mean itself anymore.
I do not understand.
It must be because I am too complex, I over analyze these made-up patterns-a new one born anytime I am stuck to provide myself with another conclusion.
I say it three times, I do not understand.

How are the thousands of miles between us diminishing while your heart and soul is drifting further away from me?

How is it I am falling asleep.

Sometime This Hour

2010-04-27T11:14:00.000+08:00

I've been holding onto the rope for a long time now, the tension pulling at the pieces.
Ever since I fell out, I've been reaching for these life savers, these things that people throw out to me. Will you let me drown...?

I don't understand how the hardest thing about holding on isn't the pain you endure. It isn't the burning sensation through your hands nor the discouragement from others. It isn't the thought of losing whatever it is, no matter how much I wish it was. It's having to let go.

I got tired of reaching for visions that are only that.
I allow the rope to slip from my fingers and float between tendrils to the bottom--Now I know what I believe in.

And I think to myself:
So this is what its like...
To breathe for the first time.

Still Alive

2010-04-24T05:21:00.004+08:00

Picture taken 5 minutes after the accident.

The only sounds that reached my ears was the "SHIT!" of my close friend beside me and my own screaming. Then a second later, the melodious shatter of broken glass. It's strange how one of the most beautiful sights, the shards of glass dancing in the air, could have been my last.

Everything was still except for the tinkling of the last few bits of broken pieces indicating the conclusion of it all. I lowered my arms from my head and opened my eyes with specks of glass in my hair and my clothes. Immediately I turned to check on my friend and she me, before a laugh, lacking of humor, escaped shakily just to get it all out.

How did we survive? The car was on the edge of doing complete somersaults, but had, in a change of heart, decided to remain with spinning wildly before smashing into a telephone wire pole that came nearer in an uncontrolled speed; a moment I watched from my view out the window before putting up what little protection I could give myself miliseconds before the impact.

People lie when they these life and death moments are in slow motion. The whole thing was done and over in an instant, one where neither of us could have woken up to see the damages. It was a miracle that we slipped from death with only a few scrapes and scratches.

I've always taken to the whole 'Live your life because life is short' thing, but now I really do. The day before, the night before and even the morning before I had even gotten in the car, I never expected something like this would, or even could, happen. We never do.

There was no time to pray, no time to call or text anyone. Two lives could have been extinguished in a fire that the world barely even felt. It's said on average, about 100 people die from a car crash each day, just in the U.S.
Disturbing how our lives are so fragile.

I've always planned on dying young... Perhaps around my 30's. However, I didn't expect the opportunity for that death to come so soon.

Identify Me.

2010-04-20T06:39:00.001+08:00

Her name is Alice
She has her wonderland, and does not want yours.
She has no concern for reality and likes it that way.

Her name is Esther
She is quiet, but not shy.
Her personality is everything and the opposite of what you perceived.

Her name is Gracie
She is often mistaken for someone else you thought you knew.
She is the support you thought I was when you fell.

Her name is Jennifer
She likes to go by her best friend's nickname.
Her status was never accepted by society nor her friends.

Her name is Lully
She is half of my heart and all of my love.
Her innocence is overwhelming and hate tears her apart.

Her name is Ning
She is my culture and tradition.
She is built solely on the leftovers after a generation of immigration.

Her name is Sirena
She is my protection from strangers and a lie from my mouth.
Her life ended five years ago.

But who am I?

Do You Believe In Magic?

2010-04-18T23:10:00.001+08:00

Photo by: Cruenta (http://cruenta.deviantart.com/)

Hey little girl. Hey little girl.

What do you think you're doing?

Crossing this street without looking at either side;

It's quite dangerous, y'know.

Little girl, little girl...

You have a family waiting far far away.

Why run when they hold you more valuable than a pearl?

You have all your friends, and each love you so I pray.

They won't understand this, please just go home.

You're quite strange, little girl, little girl.

Looking up at me like that.

With your hair in their wild, untamed curls.

I beg of you, explain this absurd act?

-::------------@---@---@------------::-

Sir, madam. Whoever this may concern...

I realize the danger, I realize the consequences-but

I cross this street on a personal term

My family, yes, I have more than one

I agree, they do not comprehend my intentions nor my actions

but each I hold dearer than the sun.

My homes have wings, wheels and even fins

For I never seem to be able to find it--

More rigorous than a haystack and pin.

But put aside.

Sir, madam, look at me closely.

There is a magic trick I wish you to view.

It doesn't involve much, just my own person and the falling light.

But before, I'd like to bid you adieu

Now watch. . . as I disappear from your sight.

East of the Sun & West of the Moon

2010-04-15T10:23:00.000+08:00

I've always been walking alone; but I don't mean to.
When I turn around, everybody is so far far behind- and I feel it in my heart.
But I keep walking anyways
Because;
I don't want to be afraid anymore.

You tell me that one day you'll catch up to me.
And we'll hold hands like we once did when we were five.

I walk through cities, I climb through mountains
Wherever I go I am always in your sight
I keep walking
Step after step, forwards, to the left & to the right.
But never back.
I count my steps and divide when I stumble
But before you can reach me, I'm already walking again.
My shadow stretches closer to you than I ever will
but my heart is closer to yours than its own beat.
And one day, I'm afraid when I turn around to look for you
You won't be there...

Where'd You Go?

2010-03-27T12:57:00.000+08:00

Inspired by Danny & his writing.

Thank you.

I remember coming home to an empty house. Those days I would cry.

I'd find myself refusing to eat and feeling like shit.

Those days I wish I'd die.

Then I'd catch a glimpse of you-- and your wide, wide smile.

You'd come up to me with that personality that never found itself down.

And I'd laugh. And everything was just fine, if even for a while.

You'd try so hard to get me to see the lighter side. You made my days.

But you haven't been doing that recently, though... What happened?

I Think I Need Some of That

2010-03-03T10:09:00.004+08:00

For JarBear

I've thought it was strange, a peculiar thing, whenever I would find a flowers bent (ever so slightly) and amazingly in unison towards one direction. It was mentioned in my Biology class two years ago that they did that in order to survive. Since then, it has fascinated me how flowers and plants had that tendency to grow towards the sun, or actually any source of light, but I suppose it made sense. It followed the "Survival of the Fittest". Light: a necessity to life. Virtually everything would die without it. I've seen vines and leaves grow over each other, even block one another to be the one on top.
You know... I'm like that. Me. I see it everyday, and even take part in this cycle, but nobody really reveals it dry. Probably because we don't want to accept our barbaric side. I find myself among the smaller leaves, the thinner vine, or the weak. I don't expect to be able to sustain myself much longer than I already have.

The sun doesn't shine in my direction anymore, and I don't know why. It means I ought to be dying.

But I don't mind, because you provide my light.

If you let me, I think I'll go in your direction.

I didn't mean to ruin your birthday, and I hope you accept this. I didn't know you would take what I said as serious as you did. Luffs.

Five Days Late

2010-02-26T08:48:00.000+08:00

Doctor, it has been a while since I felt like this-- I never expected it to happen at this time.

I don't know if you'll understand my complications, but that's ok. I only wanted some advice, perhaps a suggestion or two on what I should do about this situation of mine:

It's a bit painful, yet comforting at the same time. I never realized the magnitude to only be put on hold. For approximately a year, I suppose. I can do that, I can wait. Don't worry, I can be patient on things like this. But it bothers me a bit, that he'll be so far away. I really can't say that though, cause it'll be the same when I go as well.

I want to know him better. There, I said it. I like him. There, I said it. I admit though, I am shy.

I comprehend the reasons, please don't stress-I know you have enough already. Honestly, this would be for the best considering the circumstances.. but that doesn't make me feel any better. Truthfully, this would be the time for me to concentrate on school.. but that doesn't mean I'm able. Frankly, this would be when I take a deep breath and move on.. but that doesn't mean I will. Like I said, I can wait. I will wait and cross my fingers things turn out right.

Doctor, the thing is...
I think I sprained my heart.

Hello, I missed you.

2010-02-13T15:16:00.000+08:00

It has been a long period, longer than 2π, 4π or even the dreaded monthlies, of time since I've last seen your lovely face. But, dear, I am back for you, and I missed you so. I've craved your breath on my face and the feeling of your hands in mine. Let us speak with our eyes and hear through our mouths.

There are so many things I've seen since I left, and many more I want to share with you, love.

Have you ever found kisses in pockets? Or a piece of hope in the mail box? Ever seen a person's soul stolen with the permission of only the word "yes"? Maybe even a cat helping an old lady cross the street?

No? Ah, beloved, there are so much more to even wonder! If you look at my palm, you can see every scar and rough ridge I earned from working in the cloud mines. You'll find the trail of loving fingers left burning badges into my skin. Have you ever buried your toes in dreams and found swimming stars below your feet? Have you ever smelled Spring's hair and traveled in time? I have.

I've sifted through files of ambition and I've peeked through wishes. I've played hide'n'go seek with sin, and I've inhaled forgiveness. I've spoken to mountains and I've sung with the earth. I've done anything imaginable and everything thought of in the time I've been missing. . .

But, dear, I am back for you, and I missed you so.

What A Beautiful Day

2009-12-12T11:05:00.001+08:00

"A very small degree of hope is sufficient to cause the birth of love," - Stendhal (1783 - 1842, France).

Even though I see it rain, I'm in love.

Even though you see it rain, you have a noose around your neck.

There's no way someone would want to lose their life on such a magnificent day I tell you.

Your hair is drenched from root to tip and dark spots are beginning to consume my clothes.

Zetsubou, zetsubou, zetsubou.

Magnificent day, huh? You chuckle to yourself (or perhaps someone else entirely?).

Didn't you hear the weather man? Rain for the next week, with temperatures below freezing.

The air embraces my body in a close hug, but it couldn't compare to yours.

The roads and allies were empty, even the wild souls hid in their sanctuaries.

You wait for an answer (or perhaps a prayer?).

I look up into the empty vacuum above, crying itself pure on everything below.

Fuck the weather man, it's a great day.

Note: I apologize for not writing much, for those who enjoy what I do. I have many wonderful ideas I'd like to expand, but lately I've been down as I've been getting 60's and 70's on my english papers. Even though I know teachers and everyone else have their own opinion on what's a good paper or their own expectations, just seeing one of the constants in my life - my writing - to be graded the lowest its ever been for the first time (school-wise) is still staggering. It's making me despise writing more and more (is it not something a person can appreciate?), with less focus each time and I'm exhausting my energy towards bringing my english grade up but to no avail. If I ever take a long break from posting anything, do not be surprised.

Stop the world, I want to get off.

2009-12-06T09:26:00.000+08:00

For Aaron

I've always loved carnivals, theme parks and such. I loved the bright colors, the constant background laughing. The food, the candy - the happy that radiated all over. I loved it all. Everytime I go, sometime during the day or night I'd have to just sit and watch people take in the lighthearted mood.

To see the exhilarated faces as they stumbled off of the rides and their stammering voices as they attempt to tell their side of how entertained they were.

But always, always. I'd see someone, a child, and sometimes even an adult, cry out to a relative, a friend or the ride's operator: Stop! I want to get off!

They would have these widened eyes and their brows would be pinched together. Their mouth opened in their frightened state as they would plea for it to be over.

Sometimes I'd see their parents or friend run up to the worker. Please, they'd say, Please stop it. Then the worker would shake their head, I can't stop it for everyone just because of that one person. They'll be ok.

The victim would then either grow silent and numb-like, or tears would gush down their face. And afterwards, they'd stumble from their seat and cry into a shoulder.

I would sit there and watch them for a few seconds before turning to a more optimistic scene and lick my ice cream. Too bad, I'd think to myself. If we really could end things whenever we were scared, I'd be telling you:

Stop the world, I want to get off.

Where I Lived, and What I Lived For

2009-11-20T11:38:00.000+08:00

Assignment: Write your own philosophical essay based on Thoreau's writing style in "Where I Lived, and What I Lived For" . . . . Well. I'm not a very good at being philosophical, and I really don't know exactly how to write in his style. I hope it's acceptable:

I went to the roof because I wished to live with the knowledge that I'm able to go anywhere or do anything if I so desired and have the legs to get me there or the brain to think it, to face only what confronts me, and see if I can find the ones that hide, and not, as I stalk them, to discover that the most prominent was attatched to the back of my head. I did not yearn to live what life did not give me, it is not my part to live it; nor did I long to snatch any extra years from its pockets, unless the significance of breathing stolen air was compulsory. I wanted to experience personally and see beyond the horizon without losing my side of the skyline, to demand from life the most I am to receive, and condemn it if presented with a secondhand, and, if it displays a sense of generosity, to withdraw to my place with murmurs of gratitude, careful not to disturb any turning hourglass.

Every day I catch the same faces and put up my own like a magician; though some stories do not follow how it is written; like a pebble dropped in water, it is changed but still the same. Like this, we forget who we really are and following a series of I wonder and I would like to be, only finally jumping in the wrong direction, to realize we are not in the right place. The correct lives we did not live returns to its birthplace and we are left staring into the unfamiliar eyes we, in one moment, caught sight of and tried to duplicate into our own. Life first cracks then crumbles, and later wrecked, to be left with shards waiting to be recycled.

To lavish a day, better yet, a week, and more a year or a lifetime as purposefully as clouds, and moving in the direction to where they are meant to be, with much assistance from the breath of invisible forces, to flow so easily. Why fret over the future when an empty stomach beckons for your attention at the now? If a clock ticks, let it tick until time runs out, or much sooner its batteries. If the lights go out, why should we sleep? Let us inhale what is put before us and do with it what we can until we can do no more, but reach for what our hands and fingers are allowed to grasp, and to only miss by a skim will result in nothing and undertake the task at a later day. Life is limited but only to the amount we allow. I consume color with my mouth and taste with my eyes, and when I sleep I find myself back stage and looking from behind those black, black curtains of eyelids, to uncover a scar to another world, and not, when I realize, that I am only in a dream, do what reality prevents. The imagination has always been consistent, more so than material things, and only distinguishable from truth when we challenge it. My intuition tells me that this is where I am, and if I really are rotting alive, let us be the witness of my emotional health, for I think that life permits me only to be me, and you as you are; no other.

I Pinky Promise

2009-11-13T13:37:00.000+08:00

It is 11:11 and I have a sense of urgency.

I know you're probably asleep at this time, stolen with a chain on your trust.

I don't understand how such fabrications can lure you so easily, but they got me.

Got me - questioning you.

You don't understand how such honesty can trick me so easily, but they got you.

Got you - questioning me.

I always took the easy way and sat around, but you threatened to take my legs if I didn't follow and my heart if I didn't believe. But I've always had to look up to see you.

They can't take us together, because we'll be too much. So they catch us separately and hang us five feet from the ground. I'm already dead, but they don't know that that doesn't stop you because you're taller than that.

And I pinky promise: I'll kidnap you from this heaven and show you the world I hold in my hands, and together, we'll hide all the things we adore. Because we don't care anymore and we'll run away with happy, uneven steps.

My bed is wicked and tempts me with you.

Five hours. Five hours is all I get.

Now is the time to say good-bye.

It is 11:12 and I have a sense of urgency.

Every Other Line

2009-11-12T08:06:00.001+08:00

Here is a wanted ad. Posted on my skin.

Looking for anyone who doesn't mind
cleaning the house, surrounding area and
spending their day with a simplistic
notion without having inclinations like a
needy girl. Previous experience is
insisted however prior education is
not needed to apply. Needs to be patient
when concerning duties and against liberal ideas
and understanding with a complex perception. Friendship
shouldn't be considered and cooperation with other staff
is not required but would be nice. Cloud inspections and
gardening is to be executed in the mornings and children
story telling will be daily. Needs to know how
to act professional with guests and if situation requires
to laugh and always have open arms.
Breaks will take place at noon and 6 sharp for thirty minutes.
Having a degree in being a superhero will
simply be mocked and turned away but acute cooking skills will
instantly get you the job.
For more information &
If interested contact me at: My heart

Note: For those who don't understand, read every other line starting from the first line in the "ad".

Another AP English Assignment

2009-11-02T06:51:00.001+08:00

I hope everyone had a good Halloween and remembered to turn your clocks back (: I apologize to those who like my writings in the style of "Remember That Day" "...- - --- .--." "I've Never Been Perfect, But Neither Have You" I'm sorry this isn't one of those, but I'll write something later (I've had the inspiration, but not the time I wanted - homework, school, discovery of a new hobby that I don't really have time for either, extracurricular activities and being sick have been taken up my life at this point). Anyways-

This assignment was to write a short story in the style of Brian Andreas. You can find his work at: http://www.storypeople.com . Hover over 'Storyland' on your left hand side and click on 'Browse' and there you can read his work. Here are my attempts:

I'm glad I'm not a spider, she said, because I don't think I'd be patient enough to wait for my food.

What do I have to do? I said & he said, When it turns dark and the stars are out, count them all and tell me in the morning & I said, What if I lose count? & he said, Wait until night and do it again.

When will you stop sleeping with the lights on? she said & I said, When the monsters under my bed tell me they're moving.

Here is a frog who sings when it rains because that is when his voice is appreciated by an audience of none.

finally has realized that she can't find a lost place with a map

Why are the jokers taken out of a lot of card games? he said & I said, because the other cards are afraid they'll win everytime.

I'm Growing Up Faster Than You Think

2009-10-19T10:47:00.002+08:00

You came into my room to talk to me about serious affairs today.

About how some jokes are taken seriously by others. Yes, I know. They can get hurt. Yes, mother. I know. You shouldn't joke about fake relationships, even if they're for amusement with your gay friend. Mother, I understand. I know that there is the possibility of others who get hurt from seeing this information. I've been there. Yes, I agree, there are already enough torment in the world without my jokes and tricks. Yet, sometimes it's necessary. I need my own outlets to rid myself of my own pain as well. It is the only method I have at this time, I'm in search of a better. You worry about people I might hurt. Have you ever worried about how much I hurt? Did you even notice that I've purposely hurt myself my freshman year? No, a girl in my art class did. She came in first place, but you're still on the race track long after the race has been over.

Mother, you tell me to think. What if there is a boy who comes along that likes you and whom you like back and want to be in a relationship? What if your friend jokes about being in a relationship with you already? Mother, you don't understand that I already have a boyfriend. You have no idea. And the knowledge I hold inside. I want you to comprehend. I can't tell you of him, probably not for a few more years when I'm an adult. You wouldn't let me talk to him again, I know. How do you know this?' you'd probably ask if I had told you. 'Experience' is what I would say. Just like you denied me the liberty of talking to J.I. 6 years ago. I can't trust you to take in what I have, what I've been through - without you pulling a collar over my neck. Throw a food bowl at me too while you put up the fences.

I've had more than a few nights where I cried the whole afternoon and night. You were downstairs, oblivious, mother, what were you doing? Perhaps I should've went to you for comfort. Maybe. But that would have led to unnecessary questioning, and a whole excavation of my life and personal space. I wouldn't be let out of sight. You still don't even let me drive the car alone. You say I'm still a child? Yes, mother, I am. And when I'm a legal adult? Will you let me drive a car then or do I have to wait until I'm 30?

As your daughter, I know how you will react and I know what you expect of me. That is why I keep myself from parties, I avoid the man whores at school and out, I follow my gut instinct if I don't feel comfortable. I watch out for alcohol, I turn away from the drugs. At school I know you'll be disappointed if I don't get a 90+ in my classes, AP... Pre AP, they all have to be A's. And dad? He wants me in the top 1%. I stress in school over my grades because of you. I know my limitations, do you know yours?

I've seen things you wouldn't have even thought I could at my age. Did you know I cuss too? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I know you would be disappointed, mother, I know I am. That's why I keep it as a rarity, I don't enjoy it myself personally and I know you wouldn't either. I've seen naked men, I've seen naked women. What, mother? No rated R movies? I'm sorry, but I've already watched them when I was in elementary and in a year I'll be able to see them in theatres if I so choose without your permission. Do you think prohibiting me from watching obscene movies will protect me? I hear worse things at school. I see worse things on the streets. Are you going to tape me up in bubble wrap?

I'm an appalling daughter, aren't I. I've been rebellious and want to go to too many places. I don't take your feelings and thoughts in consideration, I haven't respected you at all. I keep information to myself and I don't communicate with you. Why don't I open up to you? I talk more to strangers than my parents. Do you agree with my brother, your son, that I don't uphold the family name? Do I bring you shame?

I honestly wish that we were closer. That we were best friends, you and me, and dad. I wish our family loved each other more and we could share anything. I want you to know, mother, I've attempted. I told you about my ex's when I dated them, I told you about the times your son has hurt me when we got in fights, verbally or physically. Your "solutions" consisted of bringing him and me to father who chastises him "not to do it again" and forces us into a hug in which we both resented but put up with just so we could get away from you and him as soon as possible. Probably the best communication my brother and I have between us, mother, were you aware?

No matter how much you think you know someone, it's just a lie. It's not something I like to admit but there's a big ass chunk you're not even aware of. We all have our own secrets. Maybe it's because we're humans, and we'll never understand each other, or let it happen. Every animal has it's own unique pattern. Or maybe I'm the odd one out, or am I the even one in?

I admit I'm selfish. I haven't taken your feelings on this, and haven't even told you. I kept silent the whole time you were talking, my only reaction to anything you said was a blink, and when asked to 'say something' or 'my thought' on it, a tightly shut mouth and an empty stare. I ought to talk to you more, mother I'm sorry. But the only thing I tell you is:

"I'm growing up faster than you think."

Sentence Beginnings

2009-10-19T06:05:00.000+08:00

This is my essay for AP English 3 Language class. I got tired of typing up my essays on Microsoft Word and decided to try putting it up on here instead (and one of my friends wanted to read it too). The assignment was for us to choose from a list of first sentences taken from random books and write a fictional story starting with the exact same sentence. I chose "It is not easy to cut through a human head with a hacksaw." from Travels by Michael Crichton. I'm not too happy about how it turned out. Writers block was being quite the bitch and my set up was weak. Nevertheless -

Here I go. . .

It is not easy to cut through a human head with a hacksaw. In fact, using a semiautomatic would probably be more effective if one was hoping for a simpler method of disposing something or someone - as my accomplice, J, and I were doing one chilly October night. However, we were ill prepared and didn't have access to a hacksaw, much less a gun. Instead, my tools for that particular night consisted of a knife, an old sack, one rust caked shovel and -of course- the victim.

The night was strangely clear and the moon a slit in the stretching black above our heads. It was a night filled with unspoken mischief and actions motivated by adrenaline. Dim streetlights lined the road with their glowing hope for those afraid of the dark and a calm blanket had been extended over the neighborhood. Luckily, both J and I had outgrown our childish fears and were unbothered as we set out on our engagement.

J's eyes were craters on her face's shadow as she looked up at me in alarm. Flaring lights of red and blue colors moved in patterns across our thin frames bent over a half dug hole. They were quickly joined by the more common beams of golden flashlights and husky figures of hesitant men in blue. I cursed quietly under my breath as J and I faced the authorities through squinted eyes. Somebody had caught sight of us as we dragged the bulky bag down the boulevard though we kept to the darker spaces. This was unexpected and our plan was cut short as they took us in.

Earlier that night I had given my best friend an encouraging smile. It wasn't a daily thing for us to commit such a deed and our doubts needed to be subsided. She had scouted out the arranged area like planned and I had our subject. In a silence where an ant’s steps could be heard, we set to work. I heaved my collection in front of us and we instantly brought our knives down, penetrating the skin into flesh. Fluid stained our shaking hands as we tossed handfuls of the mutilated pieces into the sack, tying the opening off nicely.

We sat in another uncomfortable silence as the policeman drove without a word. A chuckle broke between my lips, growing in volume, as I contemplated over the night’s events. J’s snickering laugh soon mingled with mine. It could have been regarded as insanity from us both. The police didn’t mirror our amusement as they faced us from across the table, the evidence against our crime set between us. Dark stains where the fabric had absorbed the oozing liquid could be more clearly discerned in the lit room.

In approximately two hours later we were released from the police station. They didn’t appreciate our humor when we told them “Happy Halloween” after the chunks of an assortment of fresh fruit was found in the bag.

Remember That Day?

2009-10-05T08:15:00.002+08:00

You've always been the quiet kid haven't you? Reluctant to participate in group activities or go where there was bound to be a lot of people. Awfully shy, weren't you...?

I remember a few years ago when I saw you for the first time. That summer we moved here. I was in the passenger seat when we drove into the drive-way of our new house. I refused to call it a home, all it was was an empty shell to live in. The rain had just passed and the ground was still damp. You were standing outside the house next door, staring up into the sky as if it was the first time you've ever saw such a thing. Your hair was wet and your suit soaked through. You must've been standing there a long time. Do you know what I remember most about that picture? It was the way your mouth formed silent words in that stillness. I wonder what you had said.

The next time I saw you was on the second day of school. I had missed the day before because I got my days mixed up. You were sitting in the back, a little apart from the others. All the seats around you were taken so I sat near the door. Immediately the friendlier students gathered around to introduce themselves and ask about me. I glanced in your direction to catch you looking up at me from your desk. We didn't say anything after class. I didn't see you the rest of the day.

On the third week of school you came in late to first period. By then the whole "new kid" excitement had settled and the fake-friends that just wanted to get the gossip were uninterested in me, and the others came to conclusion I was a bit too strange to befriend. You handed the tardy slip in and wordlessly took the empty seat next to me. You smelled of smoke. I was unsure if someone in your family smoked, or if you did. After class, I gave you a jolly rancher. That was the only time I saw you smile for the rest of that semester.

The next time I saw you smile was the fourth day of spring break. We were close then. You were a time bomb and I was a small girl with a knife in each hand. I bet I could fit everything you've said since the first day in less than two pages. We spent that whole day laying in an empty park looking at the sky. You still look at the vast space in awe - just like that day. That day, you explain, when your mother passed away. Your father had left and you live with your uncle, but they were a struggling species. You ask why I became your friend. Simple, I tell you. You're real. You scoffed softly at me and turned away, but I still saw it.

The school year was over and the halls were drowned in "good-byes" and "I'll miss yous". Some of my less close friends came by my locker to give me a hug and promise to hangout when they came back from vacation. "Have a great summer" I tell them. I wouldn't be around when they came back though. You knew this. I let my phone ring for the fifth time before I picked up. You tell me to come outside. I met you in front of my house and we walked to the park together. Shy? you repeat. No, I'm not shy. Others just aren't interested enough to get to know me you clarify. The sky was dark and sprinkled with tiny worlds. It was strange. I wasn't scared when you held the gun to my forehead. You told me that night what you said that day I moved in. You had begged The Lord to send you someone, anyone.

We stood there for a while. Just you and me.

You should smile more often - happy looks good on you.

The next day, the movers came to pack up our final things. As the car passed by the park, I could see where we stood the night before. It was stained with your life. A few feet to the right where you were looking at the sky. Only difference was, the awe was gone, it was replaced by a curve of your mouth.

... - --- .--.

2009-09-25T06:21:00.003+08:00

Let's talk in secret -(stop)- I'll leave you a note under the desk in the back corner, don't forget to check when you can -(stop)-

Do you have anything to tell me -(stop)- You looked kinda desperate the other day we met up behind that warehouse -(stop)- Did something happen or were you just over reacting again -(stop)- Like that time you forgot about me -(stop)- But it's ok, it's only me anyways -(stop)- No big deal -(stop)-

You want to know something confidential -(stop)- That boy over there fucked your ex boyfriend's girl the other day -(stop)- Let's all have secrets -(stop)- They're fun to share -(stop)- You're so nosy, it's true -(stop)- You can't help but eavesdrop if your ears hear something juicy - your devil horns are peeking -(stop)- It's just so hard to resist you tell me -(stop)- I understand -(stop)-

I see you after class hiding behind corners and lingering at the water fountain to listen to a girl fulminate about how her mother wouldn't buy her a car and how her friend down the street has three -(stop)- Did you ever wonder that it was because her mother, even with 3 jobs to keep her failing family from starving, just doesn't make enough to provide her princess with one -(stop)- And that little boy who sits in the back -(stop)- It's not that rumor about him being emo and a cutter -(stop)- His dad actually died from a brain tumor last week -(stop)- He's afraid he'll shatter into fragments of what's left if people harass him anymore -(stop)- Did someone whisper that into your ear too -(stop)- Or did what that girl who just passed you that note write to you about how Mark from your physics class just got whatever shit he had left from being abused from home beat out of him a few minutes ago in the cafeteria -(stop)-

Did you read that note I left you yet-(stop)-

Go read it -(stop)- It says:

You just need to -(stop)-

Who Am I Talking To Again?

2009-09-12T06:33:00.001+08:00

If I spoke to you, would you know who I am?

I seem to know all the twins at my school. I don't know how it happens.
But today, there was a pep rally for the football and volley ball game. I was to meet up with some friends to find a seat together.
Through the cracks between moving bodies, I see him. I wave and make my way over
before giving him a hug. Right when I hugged him, I realized something was wrong.
It wasn't him. It was his twin. I back up immediately and tell him needlessly, "You're not him."

It's strange just knowing one and not the other. In the other cases, I meet both at the same time and from seeing them together am able to tell them apart. However, I only new A. His brother, L, was a stranger to me, yet he was A - physically at least.

He talks to me. His manner of talking is unlike the way A speaks, and, honestly, I felt a bit scared. My mind kept thinking it was A, but he was so unfamiliar. He was a complete stranger.

------->

Be careful. Who you see is not who you think. They're completely opposites, actually. Didn't you know? Those girls at school, who hide behind layers of make-up. That's not really them. I bet they even have a fake laugh and breathe like someone else. Those everyday faces you see? It's not real. At least an eyelash, or a corner of the lip is a clone. Nobody is brave enough to show themselves.

And yes, I see you. In the halls and sometimes outside of school. I know how you really were. Before society got to you. Before you darkened your eyes and fabricated that robot behind your face. I knew you years ago. I know what you love, what you hate. What makes you laugh or causes your mouth to curve in your awkward thinking.

Do you know what I know?

I know you see me looking at you and what's going through my mind. You know me, too. We both conceal ourselves with our own home-made masks.

We know that if we expose too much that we'll get devoured by the judges chained to our tongue. That's too bad. I would've liked to see how you used to be like at least one more time.

I've Never Been Perfect, But Neither Have You

2009-09-04T06:26:00.000+08:00

So stop pretending like you are.

It's our faults that create a big ass chunk of who we are. It defines me as me and you as you.
I'm a small girl living in a small world within a bigger one. I like to people watch. Nice to meet you.
I like to imagine, how about you? Bright colors mesmerize me like little kids to a pedophile. Sometimes, whenever we sit together, I can see strange things. It plays with my mind, but it makes my life worthwhile. Hate droops over shoulders and love hides in pants.

Some people wear their heart on their sleeves. I hang mine from my hips. If you're willing to come down to my level, you'll see it. I like to think of you as the most significant part in a painting, normally. Practically, there shouldn't even be a signature on my body. I'm not made by the crowd.
In fact- I'll be the sex slave of whatever man manages to put a ring on my finger.

And honestly?
Scars are just tattoos with better stories.

"Me up at does"

2009-09-02T06:17:00.002+08:00

Me up at does

out of the floor

quietly Stare

a poisoned mouse

still who alive

is asking What

have i done that

You wouldn't have

-E. E. Cummings

Please, I beg you.

Tell me what have I done?

Speak

2009-08-27T09:20:00.008+08:00

A dedication to Kim.
You are not alone.

This is for the ones who never knew.

You- I'm talking to you.

The sad figure crying in the corner:

It hurts, doesn't it? When you fell.

Scratched a knee or two.

It hurts, huh? When you walked in.

Saw your lover cheating.

It hurts, I know. When you come back to an empty house.

The family broken apart.

It hurts, its ok. When you're the only one.

Rejected by even the outcasts.

It hurts, don't worry. When you're counting the steps they take away.

Abandoned so easily.

It hurts, I understand. When you pull out an empty wallet.

With an even emptier stomach.

It hurts, a little too much. When you get a phone call.

To find out your mother has been murdered when you were at school.

It hurts, but it's fine. When you wake up the next morning.

Knowing you survived another day in your life nobody else can.

To those that think their life is the worst. Has reached the bottom of the pit fall.

That there is no way back up out of the dark. There is always someone on the next level of hell.

You don't know. They don't let people like you know. Because they're stronger than that.

Fuck you.

Life isn't how it seems.

2009-08-12T04:05:00.003+08:00

I wish I could be a princess or fairy. Just like that little girl.
To be magical and beautiful.

I'm not sure what life is anymore. It's when an organism has all the functions and organs that gives it the ability to breathe.

Of course.

It's not that simple. I think my life is wonderful. I let myself believe I am happy.
Because I am. But there is something missing.
I don't know what it is.
But I am living.
School is starting soon.
I have friends, family, a cat.
Just today, my friend gave me a brain cell she made for me.
What more could I ask for?

I want it though.
Whatever it is.
I want it.

If you have it, please.
Please, just offer it to me,
and I'll refuse.

This is their night

2009-07-15T19:21:00.002+08:00

Their night to show everybody what they got. To prove that they are "it" material. This is their time to express themselves without judgement, and wear things unforgivable in daylight. The darkness causes everything to look more dramatic. The lights from the shops only help the glimmer of jewelry and metal shine brighter. Hordes of people gather to this place. This place where they can be whoever they want. This is where anywhere you step is the street-platform to a 5-second glamorous competition as their circle lens-ed eyes gaze over your chosen piece of clothing.

They come in the form of fake eyelashes and make up that take no less than 15 minutes to prepare. In colorful mini skirts and strapless tops. Tiny shorts expose their silk-like legs. Smooth and beautiful. Rings and bracelets flash at every movement. Glamorous girls holding advertisement signs wear scanty clothes to draw in customers. Young boys offer charming smiles to passers and point them in the direction of their selling goods. They beckon and call to you. You would want to come nearer, to examine their flawless character. Their hair is how they expected and want. No frizz, but perfectly held in place with Gatsby hair rubber. Angel-like curls aren't effected by the natural humidity, and heat radiating from crowded bodies. Their purses and bags are attractive and lead the eye.

That is how they pull in looks.

That is how they are beautiful.

And sometimes...
every once in a while,
that is how I wish I could be.

Touch your heart

2009-07-12T06:54:00.002+08:00

My Ah-ma (Grandma) uses a meat cleaver to cut fruit. I insisted to help, and now I'm using it. I am constantly afraid I'll chop a finger off, but as I'm typing now, it didn't happen. She took over half way claiming I was too slow, and went along to finish the rest of the fruit in less time than it took for me to cut mine.

It is like a second home. The smell of smoke is constantly outside. The humidity a part of your skin. Small allys are stuffed with small shops and concession stands. They wave you over and hope for business. It is how they survive. I find cute small things. Charms, little hair ties and bows. They are meant to attract people like me. There are two department stores a few blocks down. They are tall, elegant. The workers in there are professional and smile at anything. They follow you like a butler. I don't like it. I am tempted to tell them to leave me the hell alone and that I'll get them if I need to be assisted. I smile politely at them instead.

All the, small things

2009-07-12T06:43:00.009+08:00

The desk is a mess. But an organized mess. Similar things are put together, the expensive things away from the edge - such as my camera- in case it might fall. My objects are laid neatly and, in the most part, spaced. My make up. Hair ties. Phone, tennis racquet. Snacks near the bed with my book, and a bag of candy. I know where my things are, despite the clutter. Because they're mine.

The world is a mess. One nobody can organize, except God. But He hasn't organized it. So it shall stay screwed up. Similar people attract each other. I see it everyday. Perhaps because of their background? Their ethnicity. Their style or preferences. They recognize these signs in others and feel more secure approaching them instead. They draw one another to each other. The more wealthier people tend to stay away from the ghettos. They prefer to surround themselves in luxuries where they think is safer. But nobody's safe, especially not from themselves. I don't know where anything is. None of these things are mine, but I am a part of this world.

But I don't have to be. I don't have to be. I don't. I can make my own world. However reality is whats still there even after I've stopped believing. Maybe if I leave it alone, it wouldn't get fucked up even more. I have my magazine to keep myself entertained and cranberry juice for the taste. Today I am content.

I'll paint you in silver, and I'll wrap you in cold

2009-07-11T00:37:00.003+08:00

I check the number. It was the correct one, so I sit. Beside me, a young man is already in his seat. He doesn't wear the army uniform, however his camo backpack and shaved head gives me clues. I settle myself in, and grab a magazine.

I look at him.

He looks at me.

We both turn away, him to the window and me to the shiny pages. I glance over at his ipod. A Cinderella Story is playing. Interesting choice for a man who looks how he does. He has three tattoos. A cross in a circle with star-like designs on one arm. Chinese symbols that say something along the lines of 'I fear no more' on the other arm. And a design I didn't quite get a good look at on his forearm.

I hate flying, he says.

Why? I reply.

He says nothing for a moment. Then, I'd rather be on the ground.

He tells me about himself.

It took him 5 1/2 years to graduate highschool because he dropped out and was caught up in drugs. He is the tank gun loader and he's from Minnesota. He has a picture of a half naked girl on his phone.

The plane lands and we get off.

I tell him bye.

I don't even know his name.

Until The Other Side

2009-07-08T19:41:00.002+08:00

I never been in one of those slow motion feelings at all in my life. Like in movies where something tragic happens and it starts moving all sluggy? Something like the picture above, but more dramatic. Such as... the main character's best friend's house (with them still in it) exploding. Or the producers would make the exploding happen quickly, and the after when the ambulences and police come.

Anyways, I just recently switched my older tiny mac lap top for my brother's somewhat newer-but obviously faster- computer. A lap top too, and mac-of course. It's a lot wider and such, but the keyboard is screwed over due to his excess extreme-typing. So I have to press harder than normal on the keys to get it to register. The next time I post, I'll be back in Taiwan. Very excited!

So the last weekend and few days before were quite different than my usual. It was my best friend, Jay's burfday and party at the lake house. A number of people were there, mostly family and their kids. I was being shy, and a bit away from the other girls. Though I wish I wasn't like that. I'd like to make up an excuse, like I was tired, but that would be a lie. Somewhat. I did get tired during. I went to sleep early twice, while they stayed up past 1 to whatever time. I feel like a loser sometimes.

Honestly, I don't know who I am. I know who I -want- to be. But I can never figure out who I am. Sometimes I'm open, other times I'm dead quiet. I can be annoying, I can be funny. I suck at most sports except tennis. I do good in school, yet out of I'm the biggest life-retard. I don't understand. Am I so fucked up that it's impossible to tell? What makes somebody the person they are? The way they are? The things they do? Their looks?

P.S. I never figured out the meaning of my life. Sad.

Rise Against

2009-06-29T03:48:00.003+08:00

Knees are weak, hands are shaking, I can't breathe

So give me the drug, keep me alive

Give me what's left of my life

Don't let me go.

Pull this plug, let me breathe

On my own, I'm finally free

Don't let me go.

Welcome Back #2

2009-06-27T01:26:00.004+08:00

So it's the summer now. Correction, half way through the summer. And? I haven't posted shit since months ago. It wasn't until Kiki told me through aim that one of his friends found his blog that he never posts on and through that found my blog and happened to read and told him to tell me to write more. I felt flattered, even though this isn't the blog she's talking about. The other one. With the story. That's more interesting than my life. That one. Which, I'll do later when I get off my lazy ass and start thinking of plots and such. So to catch up people who are amused by my rants, this is what I've been doing since summer started.

Wake up at 6 am. Run 1 mile. Exercise in the dining room. Go back to sleep. Wake up. Read/play games/think about summer hw(but don't work on it)/______. Take a bath. Call/get a call from Lucas. Talk until we both fall asleep. Wake up at 6 am. Run 1 mile and so on.

Now that's over I can move on.... IF there was anything for me to move on to. BUT my life is just so fucking plain at the moment. THAT I don't have anything to write about. SO I'll contemplate the meaning of (my) life. AND when I find it, I'll hit you up (:

Sound good? Great. It's what you're getting anyways.

And I'll Just Keep Sailing

2009-04-25T22:04:00.002+08:00

I haven't been posting in a long time. I've really been wanting to, but I just never got around to it. I had the time and I know what I'm wanting to express, but every time I get home and look at my computer I turn away. Maybe it's because I'm hoping, not wanting to admit it's happening. Well now, I can't deny it.

First, I want to apologize to you. To my dear best friend of about 7-8 years, Jennings. I've been taking you for granted, knowing that no matter what, you'll always be here for me. I've just been living my life over here, and haven't communicated with you in forever. I'm sorry that I haven't sent you a message, a text, an email. Not even a letter just to see how you were. It's just understood that you're there, whenever I need and for whatever reason that comes up. Know I still love you profoundly.

Now, here's what's been bothering me next. You know how we, girls, usually take some vow of some sort that we'd always pick our best friends over guys. One of my close friends at school has just recently found "the one" and seems caught up with him all the time. I'm not hating him, he's a nice person, if a little awkward and possibly scared when I talk to him. Not like I'm mean to freshman. I'm happy for her that she's found someone she really likes, and that he likes her back. After years of going through her unsteady relationships with other guys, and how she's not finding the right guy, and now she's really happy with this new boy. But, it feels like she's been pushing me away. No time for me, since she has to meet up with him somewhere. I used to sit with her every morning in this one hall and just chat and hang. But now she's never there anymore since she has to go meet with him near the trophy case and walk around or something. We used to walk out of math class to our next classes together. We'd wait for each other, even if we'd be late. Now she rushes out of there because apparently he's waiting by the door for her. I barely get to see her. She texts with him constantly when they're not together, and I feel rejected. I admit I have been obsessed before, and I apologize for that too, Jay. And you were right when you told me it seemed like I was doing all the work to keep it together. It's nice to know you're watching out for me. And I don't even think I'm able to do that for her, when it's obvious she wants to be alone with him, and so I have to make up some lame excuse to leave so it wouldn't seem rude when I just turned and left, though I doubt they'd even care.

But that's that. It happens, right? I should just be happy for her, and support her when I can. Just the sense of being shoved to the side because he's more important hurts. It pricks at me with tiny sharp needles. We've been wanting to hang out, go to the zoo or something. I don't think that's even a possibility anymore, she's always with him when she can.

Maybe I'm being selfish, and that wouldn't be good. I shouldn't hold onto people, I shouldn't be dependent. She has her own life and I have mine to watch out for. I really don't know how I should react to this. I'll just be a doll. Lifeless and mute. Sitting there to look pretty.

xoxo

Good Friday!

2009-04-10T22:26:00.003+08:00

It's been a while since I posted on here. Not that I've been too busy, just I didn't have much to put. But nowww, I have exciting (for me anyways) news! Today's Good Friday, I get a fricken four day weekend, I have ANOTHER blog for my story inspirations and most importantly...I get to go Easter Egg Hunting with my friends!

I don't care if I'm "Too old". I enjoy it. I like finding colorful eggs and opening it to find candy or those cheap quarter jewelry you can get at Walmart. I like it all. I don't understand why we find eggs or hide them for Easter. I can't relate it to Jesus' rise in 3 days thing, along with bunnies and chicks? Sooo for you curious people like me out there that even bother reading this, I have done some research and put it together. Just for you. Not really, I would've looked it up because it would bother me if I didn't know.

Alright, so some people say it's due to the fact that eggs represent fertility. You know, with the babies coming out, all alive and everything. And that's like Jesus coming back to life, rebirth."Omne vivum ex ovo" - All life comes from an egg. Even though chickens don't get reborn. Another explanation is that eggs are Pagen symbols and Christians who try to convert them to their beliefs compromised and added that into the whole Easter thing. It's also said that those who follow Lent aren't allowed to eat eggs during those 40 days. And so they had to use up all household eggs and that resulted in the creation of Pancake Day! Use up them eggs, kids. And those cute bunnies and chicks? They're supposed to represent spring (and fertility too I guess - who wouldn't want a bunch of cuddly critters reproducing like crazy?). So why the chocolate? you might ask. If not, I'm still going to answer it anyways. From what I found, it's so people back in the days can make profit. Money money money. Now those people are going out of business due to Walmart and their $1 deals of chocolate eggs. Why are they colored? Because artists out there needed to express themselves. That's how I see it. What about the Easter Rabbit? I found two reasons, and too tired to find anymore. First, it was created to get the kiddos into Easter so they'd like celebrating Jesus' rebirth even though they're more into getting the goods from the Rabbit. Second, the rabbit also represents fertility and spring, but in some anglo-saxon myth, Eostara changed her pet bird into a rabbit that laid colorful eggs which entertained many a child. Personally, a rabbit laying eggs is creepy.

Alright, so that's your somewhat history lesson for todayy. I'm off to get some rest before I show those people whats up at that Hispanic Youth 2nd Annual Easter Egg Hunt.

xoxo

April Fools?

2009-04-02T06:19:00.002+08:00

Life is good.

Just like that grapefruit.

Different colors of the same thing together

creates a unique fruit, though of the same species

of the other ones.

Of the following, some of these things really happened today, others are made up-just to humor my April Fool's. It's your decision on which to believe.

So this morning I woke up at 3, like always now-a-days. There's just something about that 3 AM that my body just craves to get working and so forces my eyelids to part and for semi-darkness of the room to dilate my pupils. I checked the time on my phone and went back to sleep. I woke up again, but at 5 til 5 AM this time. Fuck, my body just won't give will it? But I went back to sleep once again. This time I woke to my alarm clock, and it was the hardest thing to get out of bed. What. The. Hell.

Then this morning I discovered my period started. Contrarily, at that time, it relieved stress. It started more than a week late-so it was good news to see that sick, burgundy color. It meant I hadn't somehow became pregnant without my knowing, and that was proof. However, later in the day it lived up to the annoying understanding you get when you hear 'period'. I strangely had seemed to put my tampon in in a weird way-maybe the pressure of trying to take care of business during announcements in that echo-y bathroom. And so my vajay was screaming like a mother all through 2nd period. Luckily I fixed it the next class.

Fish was everywhere. The French students of my school had literally papers and papers of fish to cut out and tape on people's back, for April Fool's I'm guessing. It made sense to me that the paper fish be put on freshman. Freshman, fish? But it seems that wasn't the case. I found them on the backs of victimized teachers, lockers, walls, teachers' kids, students etc. They were like an encouraged plague throughout the day. I got one smacked right on my palm. It's purple, and honestly, pretty cute. I still have it in my book bag.

I'm such a fatty. I've been eating constantly through school and it, is friggen annoying. I hate when I eat even though I'm not hungry, but simply because I was either bored, have nothing else to do, or just from habit. This is probably why it's so hard for me to get abs. I've been exercising daily, and no-matter what exercises I follow from those 'Hot Abs in 6 Weeks' magazine articles ever since last semester I haven't gotten the toned tummy I'd like. Sure, if I flex you could tell a little, but when I let it go...BAM. Pudge. I shall name that pudge Jesse until I get rid of it. I hate Jesse.

Alright, so I got locked out of school at the end of the day. I didn't mean to, and who knew those bitches would lock the doors 15 minutes after school let out. I was walking my twin friends to their car in the front to talk, and when I headed back to go to UIL practice the doors were unyielding. I tried all 3 doors in the front, and was too lazy to walk to the side or back. I even shook one of the doors because I saw some people at the end of the hall, hoping they'd come over and open it for me. They didn't. Ha. Ha. Ha. I ended up getting picked up by Sarah and going home early.

I cut myself. Not on the wrist and not purposely. I was zesting 24 dog-shit sized keylimes. For a keylime pie and keylime crepes for tomorrow's meal. The zester kept slipping off and hitting my fingers. Eventually, it took off a part of skin and bits of my life shaped itself on my middle finger and pinky. Andrew called me Esther Zester. I gave him the bird.

Life is good. I have a quiz in AP History and a Unit test in Chemistry. I'm not too worried, but I do need to finish reading that chapter in the text book. It's been a lot more relaxing this week compared to last, and I like it. I'm going to have fun this weekend and I have a short week the next 2 weeks due to the Easter holiday. The main plus on that weekend is I'm getting a new phone, baby. I'm out. Make good choices.

xoxo

I Think It's Gonna Be A Good Day

2009-03-25T07:20:00.004+08:00

Let's just take a few minutes, or hours if you have the time (but I can only spare a few minutes), to just fuck the world.

I just love waking up early in the morning to a dark sky, where you could get jumped and not notice until you're smacked in the head with a tree stump someone used because they had gotten desperate enough to. The smell of spring in my nostrils starting up my irritating allergies again. The constant sniffing every 3 seconds. To find a new colony of acne on my forehead and the naming of the new recruited to a family I have started on my skin.

The other day I spent hours working on my english rhetorical analysis paper and chart. Today my teacher told me that it wasn't what she wanted. I have to rewrite the whole thing. I think it's gonna be a good day. In Spanish, everybody misunderstood and thought that I was dating this freshman who sat in front of me and wouldn't drop the subject for the life of a child. I think it's gonna be a good day. My scape class-Culinary Arts-we had a sub today. The teacher was out due to an emergency kidney stone surgery. I think it's gonna be a good day. Math gave me another headache today and we have a test coming up soon. I think it's gonna be a good day. I have a test in AP History tomorrow that will determine if my grade in there is an A or B. I think it's gonna be a good day. I got a 73 on a major grade in Chemistry, even though it would've been a 93 if it wasn't "late" and a quiz was set for tomorrow. I think it's gonna be a good day. The sky decided to cry and drench me on the way to the bus. I think it's gonna be a good day.

Just recently, the pastor at this one church was talking about how we could be working hard and diligently, but for the wrong thing. That even though we really attempt our best, but if we don't love Jesus then it's all for nothing. He talked about how if you're not excited about being at church, just wanting to praise and worship Him, it's ok, but repent and admit. And that an amazing thing is that He already knows, and still loves you anyways even if you're not so into Him. I admit, I'm not excited on going to church. I'd like to be facinated, amazed and love the Lord, but it's just not working for me. Maybe that's why my life seems like crap. If I had more Jesus in my life, maybe it would be better.

I'm ecstatic that after this week is over, there's only one more 9 weeks of school. Then summer. I wonder if block schedule would be less stressing, but I doubt I'll ever find out. Hope your day was filled with rainbows and daffodils.

Hi Hoe Diggity

2009-03-20T22:56:00.002+08:00

I really enjoy this picture. And I wish I had a seat in the sky where I can watch all the clouds. It'd be very breath-taking and just amazing. I'd be able to see the secrets the clouds hide on their upper side of their fluffy form. What they conceal from everything below them. If I was tall enough, I'd hide secrets on top of my head. But seeing as that's not possible with my given height, perhaps I should hide it under my feet.

I don't believe this post has a meaning. Just something to write about whatever. My life has been pretty uneventful. Unless you count playing tennis for 3 hours and feeling like a spineless fish all the next day. It hurt sooo much. I was sore everywhere, and it hurt just to twitch my arm a few inches up. My friend told me that if I could endure that, then I could endure having a baby. I don't think so. I can't even deal with the fact that another being would be growing inside of me yet. So no go for the baby. Sorry kid.

I have a cat. I used to have 2 cats. But one cat we had to give away because he was unhappy. I miss him so. So now. I have a cat. His name is K.O. As in knock out. He is quite striking in appearance. Not really, he looks like a raccoon. But I still love him. I enjoy how most cats have these personalities of theirs. Mine's like a dog. He comes running when you call his name, and answers whenever you talk to him. He's an intelligent one, too. Though, not as clever as my first cat. Oh, did I mention he was a wimp too? You touch him when he's not paying attention and he jumps a foot in the air. You make a loud noise, he goes running to hide. You throw a toy at him and he backs away, and cautiously comes to bat at it, jumping back everytime he makes contact. And...he doesn't want to go outside. I thought cats liked outside. But that makes it easier on us on keeping him indoors. I love my cat.

Yesterday we went to Dallas. So my brother could see his girlfriend. I met her dad that time. I already met her, her brother and mother a while ago when they came down. We ate at a sushi buffet place, then went to this mall. In this one section, there was a pond, and a bridge. In the pond were adorable little ducks swimming around, and turtles under a lamp. I wish the mall here had ducks and turtles. So anyways, at that mall I got some underwear. At Victoria's Secret, 7/$25. About $3.57 each. Their panties are so cute sometimes. If not, sexual. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to get a size S or XS. Last time, I got S and they fit alright, but when I compared an S and an XS they were the same size? That confused me. So I decided to get XS just to see how that would work out, and it seems they fit the same. So what's with the different size labeling?!

Spring break is coming to an end. I have 3 days left (counting Monday since we have it off). I think I slept more this week than I have in 2 weeks of school. It makes me groggy when I over sleep and I don't like that feeling, but I can't help it. He's mad at me, I'm pretty sure. And it's stupid. I couldn't help getting home late, there wasn't anything I can do about it? And now he hasn't replied to my text. I'm not sure if it's because he can't at the moment, or he doesn't want to. I'll just give him time, and space. It'll be fine in a while, as Kiki would say. And it turns out true every time. I don't know how he does it.

There's this new phone I want to get for an upgrade on April 12. It's the Samsung Eternity. I love it. Even though I'm not too fond of touchy-touchy phones, but I like this one. I have pretty bad reasons to like it, too. I like it because it has this widget bar that's similar to my computer, and because you can change the LED light color to whatever you like. I don't like it because you can flip it to get a QWERTY keyboard. I dislike those, I can't type with my thumb, I have to use my whole hands. And I prefer the t9 way nowadays. It costs about $150 with the 2 year contract and the mail in rebate. Wow. Less than the iPhone, though? Then again, I would be content with the LG Vu, which would be $50 with the 2 year contract and mail in rebate. But I like the Eternity's layout better.

Since I'm already on the subject about wanting things, I'm also craving this new tennis racquet. Its on sale for $80 and I like it. It's lighter than the one I use regularly now, which is good as mine's too heavy and it makes my hand hurt after an hour or so of using it. I want one of those Prince (yes it has to be Prince, because it's my new favorite tennis company people) 3-racquet tennis bags too, because I'm tired of carrying around my two racquets in one of those tight one-racquet bags they come with. And having to tie a plastic baggy with my clothes and or shoes and or balls and or sunscreen to the bottom. Now I'm feeling spoiled. And bratty. And snobby. And everything else under that category. I should end this before it goes on.

xoxo

The Old Believe Everything; The Middle-Aged Suspect Everything; The Young Know Everything

2009-03-11T09:55:00.002+08:00

Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear girl, Happy birthday to you.

I tend to dislike it when my birthday comes. Ever since I was little, my family has never really gotten into the whole Let's-Throw-A-Huge-Party-And-Have-Fun-Every-Possible-Second-And-Cry-Over-The-Cake-Because-It-Wasn't-What-You-Wanted thing. I grew up having a party usually consisting of my mother, father and brother and a small $5 cake. It was about the same this year. Except without the brother. I don't mind it, but it seems kinda like a sad attempt at celebrating. But then why don't I just have a nice, large Sweet Sixteen? Because I'm a pathetic teenage girl who think having bigger parties are awkward and there's nothing to do at my place. There's also the other fact that my friends come from completely different social cliques and don't always get along.

I knew this birthday wasn't going to be the best when I suddenly felt sad, got frustrated and cried yesterday. For no reason. What the hell. I knew it wasn't going to be great when I was late on meeting my friends who were trying to throw me a surprise party, which we ended up only having 10 minutes to celebrate. I was then late to my first period, simply because I didn't feel like going. Homework was given in English. Spanish, I wasn't sure I knew what we were doing. I got at highest a 70 on quiz in AP history. I have a lab write up due tomorrow and two quizzes to get prepare for, math and chemistry. Then I'm working from after school to 10.30 pm on thursday at this track meet, and so no time to study for the at least 2 tests I have on friday.

The better part of today was that I got cupcakes, and art supplies from Andy, cupcakes, gummies and a card from Sarah, brownies from Daniel and Aaron, a card from Andrew and Amanda, cookies from Levi and Micah and "Happy Birthday"s all round.

It got even better when I got to stay after school for this Culinary club and we made yummy Apple Crisps, and my caramel sauce was actually great.

Then my day got worse. I almost got in a car crash driving back home from the practice. Whoop-de-doo.

Take Your Hands Off My Star

2009-03-06T09:05:00.002+08:00

Maybe, if I hide behind my clothes, my make up; hide my face with my hair. Maybe if I acted in a way I normally wouldn't, laughing when it isn't funny, smiling when I don't like it. Maybe if I liked the same things everyone else liked, hated what they hated. If I did what they do, ate what they ate. Maybe, just maybe, I'll fit in so much that they'll leave me alone.

I had a discussion with my dad about what I wanted to major in the other day. He was trying to convince me to go to a normal college/university first, before going to a culinary school, if I still wanted to. I understand where he's coming from, but I'm still stubborn on going to the culinary school first. This is how it went.

"Daaaaaad! The Culinary Institute of America finally sent me one of those information cards in the mail today!"
"I don't know if you should go there first. You should get the basics down first, and if you want to go, then go"
"But I can get the basics there"
"You should get a more reliable job. If the economy is bad, people aren't going to buy from a bakery"
"Well if it was really addictive and good they would. Besides, I'll minor in accounting or something if that'll make you feel better"
"What bakerys do you know of that made it big time?"
"Um...I dunno. There used to be a bakery in Temple, but they got shut down"
"Exactly, even in Temple where there's a larger population than here, they didn't make it"
"That's because they sell drugs instead!"
"You'd probably make better money being a drug lord than a baker"
"Fine, I'll put drugs in my cakes. Ecstasy or something. Happy cakes for everyone!"

Crazy dad. I don't really care if my job isn't the best paying. As long as it can support me, or my future family, and I have fun and truly enjoy doing it, that's what I want. I wouldn't be able to stand having a job I hated, even if it did pay better.

I wish CIA wasn't so far away. It's in New York. I wish it was in Texas or something. I don't feel too comfortable going that far north, and into one of those insane states where people need to relax more. But, it's the Harvard of the Culinary world. And expensive. I don't like loans.

xoxo

Bust A Move

2009-03-03T09:04:00.003+08:00

Prom is coming up. Better learn your dance moves so you can get your groove on. I've been asked to prom again. Since last year, this is about the time I get asked. This year the theme is something about Italy. Don't get me wrong, I love Italy, and if I knew how to dance, I'd love to dance. But. . .I think I have to turn down the guy. It's not because of who he is, no. He's a nice man-ish height, with a healthy body (I know this from hugs, and because he works out due to ROTC), humorous, and pretty good looking. The thing is, I have a guy. My guy. And it's not him. He probably doesn't know this, simply because we go to different schools.

I hate turning people down though. It makes me feel horrible inside. I guess that must be one of my weaker points, since I'd be easy to take advantage of. But I do know when I have to decline, on drugs and shit. But things like this, I wish wouldn't come up. It flatters me that he asked me, and I'm sorry. We can go rock climbing, and it was kind of you to give me and my friend a ride while we were walking from walmart back to the school after picking up some groceries in the scorching heat last semester, but I don't want to lead you on, and I'll let you know I have a man. I hope you find a more delightful girl than me to go with. I would've been a horrible dancer and an awkward date.

I wish I hadn't quit dance. I wish I was more graceful and had better balance. I wish I still remember what I learned. I wish my mom hadn't signed me up for the dance lessons just so my chubby-kid self would get some exercise other than playing in my room. I wish I actually was good at dancing when I took those lessons.

xoxo

I Always Have To Think Up A Title Before I Write Anything

2009-03-01T07:35:00.003+08:00

If you lay face down in the water, you'll surely drown without a bamboo stick, tube, air tank or scuba diving thing. Unfortunately, I'm face down in air. It's not as exciting, but it's what I do. How I roll. I'm still tired, and my sleeping pattern has been strange recently. I've always been waking up at 3 AM, then again at 4, then 5, and eventually 6 when I have to get out of my warm small heaven on earth to get ready for school and weekends like today when I have to be at school early to go to UIL competitions.

When we got to the school, Westwood, at first I thought it was a warehouse. It was large, bulky, gray and windowless (from my angle). So anyways, this time, I competed in number sense, spelling and lit. crit. I did horrible in number sense (scored a -16), and spelling, not sure but I never do good in there. However, in lit. crit., our team won 2nd place. That gave me a good, bubbly feeling inside. It was pretty amazing, considering we all BS-ed our way through since we never had the time to practice and only read one of the two required books and knew virtually none of the vocabulary words or what kind of rhyme scheme the given poems are. It was wonderful.

Now I'm home, a bit grumpy, sleepy, and with a messily empty room. I really need to clean this up before I break a bone trying to get through here. I wish Jenny's birthday was already here. I have the perfect present already planned. But, I still have to wait some months. That's ok I suppose, except that I can be very impatient. I want this year to be over, I want it to be summer and for Junior year to begin. I'll finally be an upperclass man, though that probably won't make a difference in the most part socially since people can't tell.

Girl Scout Thin Mints are officially my unhealthy American food (more of snack/junk food) addiction. I made a deal with Daniel that if I got him some of these asian snack, shrimp chips, he'd get me a box of thin mints. Mmm. Sounds like a good deal to me. Just hope I don't get too fat from them. My parents and brother are leaving now, to go to their friend's home which is literally just 2 blocks down, for some dinner party. I'm not going. I don't want to go. Even though their son is in my grade, and 3 of my classes and sits to the right of me in one, diagnoally in another, and behind me in the last. We're cool, but not exactly good friends. I'd just feel awkward going to his house. Plus, I have other plans for tonite.

"Let's bounce"

xoxo