Books for 2011

The BBC believes most people will have read only 6 of the 100 books listed here.

1. Pride and Prejudice – Jane Austen
2. The Lord of the Rings – JRR Tolkien
3. Jane Eyre – Charlotte Bronte
4. Harry Potter series – JK Rowling (all)
5. To Kill a Mockingbird – Harper Lee
6. The Bible
7. Wuthering Heights
8. 1984– George Orwell
9. His Dark Materials – Philip Pullman
10. Great Expectations – Charles Dickens
11. Little Women - Louisa May Alcott
12. Tess of the D'Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy
13. Catch 22 – Joseph Heller
14. Complete Works of Shakespeare
15. Rebecca – Daphne Du Maurier
16. The Hobbit – JRR Tolkien
17. Birdsong – Sebastian Faulks
18. Catcher in the Rye – JD Salinger
19. The Time Travellers Wife – Audrey Niffenegger
20. Middlemarch – George Eliot
21. Gone With The Wind – Margaret Mitchell
22. The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald
23. Bleak House – Charles Dickens
24. War and Peace – Leo Tolstoy
25. The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy – Douglas Adams
26. Brideshead Revisited – Evelyn Waugh
27. Crime and Punishment – Fyodor Dostoyevsky
28. Grapes of Wrath – John Steinbeck
29. Alice in Wonderland – Lewis Carroll
30. The Wind in the Willows – Kenneth Grahame
31. Anna Karenina –Leo Tolstoy
32. David Copperfield – Charles Dickens
33. Chronicles of Narnia – CS Lewis
34. Emma – Jane Austen
35. Persuasion – Jane Austen
36. The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe – CS Lewis
37. The Kite Runner – Khaled Hosseini
38. Captain Corelli’s Mandolin – Louis De Berniere
39. Memoirs of a Geisha - Willaim Golden
40. Winnie the Pooh – AA Milne
41. Animal Farm – George Orwell
42. The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown
43. One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabrial Garcia Marquez
44. A Prayer for Owen Meaney – John Irving
45. The Woman in White – Wilkie Collins
46. Anne of Green Gables – LM Montgomery
47. Far from the Madding Crowd _ Thomas Hardy
48. The Handmaids Tale - Margaret Atwood
49. Lord of the Flies – William Golding
50. Atonement - Ian McEwan
51. Life of Pi - Yann Martell
52. Dune – Frank Herbert
53. Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
54. Sense and Sensibility – Jane Austen
55. A Suitable Boy – Vikram Seth
56. The Shadow of the Wind – Carlos Ruiz Zafon
57. A Tale Of Two Cities – Charles Dickens
58. Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
59. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time – Mark Haddon
60. Love in the time of Cholera - Gabriel garcia Marquez
61. Of Mice and Men – John Steinbeck
62. Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov
63. The Secret History - Donna Tartt
64. The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold
65. Count of Monte Cristo – Alexandre Dumas
66. On the Road - Jack Kerouac
67. Jude the Obscure – Thomas Hardy
68. Bridget Jones’s Diary – Helen Fielding
69. Midnight’s Children – Salman Rushdie
70. Moby Dick – Herman Melville
71. Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens
72. Dracula – Bram Stoker
73. The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson
74. Notes from a Small Island - Bill Bryson
75. Ulysses - James Joyce
76. The Bell Jar - Sylivia Plath
77. Swallows and Amazons – Arthur Ransome
78. Germinal – Emile Zola
79. Vanity Fair – William Makepeace Thackeray
80. Possession - AS Byatt
81. A Christmas Carol – Charles Dickens
82. Cloud Atlas - Charles Mitchell
83. The Colour Purple - Alice Walker
84. The Remains of the Day – Kazuo Ishiguro
85. Madame Bovary – Gustave Flaubert
86. A Fine Balance – Rohinton Mistry
87. Charlotte's Web - EB White
88. The Five People You Meet In Heaven – Mitch Albom
89. Adventures of Sherlock Holmes – Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
90. The Faraway Tree collection - Enid blyton
91. Heart of Darkness – Joseph Conrad
92. The Little Prince - Antoine de Saint Exupery
93. The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks
94. Watership Down - Richard Adams
95. A Confederacy of Dunces – John Kennedy Toole
96. A Town Like Alice – Nevil Shute
97. The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
98. Hamlet – William Shakespeare
99. Charlie & the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl
100. Les Miserables - Victor Hugo

 My goal for the new year is to read this list. Join me?

Loser, loser.

Never in all my days have I come across a person who enjoys losing but I seem to like it less than most. When it is something I know I am good at and know I can win, defeat seeps in through every crevice and rots all inside me. To not hear my name called is the tightening of imaginary fingers around my throat. Slowly, I try to force a smile to myself for the person better than me but the tears are stinging from where I refuse to let them fall. My bestest, I feel him watching me, trying to catch my eye and I avoid it. He's too good to witness something so pathetic. Certain people, I catch flashes of disbelief on their faces and their thoughts reach out, touch me, but it's not enough. It's not enough. I was close to being the best. But close is not the winner. Close is left out and rejected and abandoned and all these viruses that are infecting my heart.

Sometimes is never quite enough.

If you're flawless, then you'll win my love.

Don't forget to win first place.

Don't forget to keep that smile on your face.

Be a good boy.

Try a little harder.

You've got to measure up

And make me prouder.

 

How long before you screw it up?

How many times do I have to tell you to hurry up?

With everything I do for you,

The least you can do is keep quiet.

Be a good girl.

You've gotta try a little harder.

That simply wasn't good enough

To make us proud.

I'll live through you.

I'll make you what I never was.

If you're the best, then maybe so am I,

Compared to him compared to her.

I'm doing this for your own damn good!

You'll make up for what I blew.

What's the problem?

Why are you crying?

Be a good boy.

Push a little farther now.

That wasn't fast enough

To make us happy.

We'll love you just the way you are

If you're perfect.

Alanis Morissette

I would write myself but my spirit has sunken a tad too low to even attempt. However, this song matches the words in my soul quite well. All my life, I've done more than my fair share to be loved. And somehow it never seems enough.

Why so blue?

My heart belongs to a boy,
a boy who doesn't know of love.
Something inside me yearns to teach
but I fear not I have the patience.

Waves of affection crash upon me
and inside my soul begins to drown.
He speaks so softly and always stoic
so that he appears emotionless.

Most believe he is an empty room
with no light reflecting against plain walls.
But like a scream from underwater,
he reaches out in his own way.

Our fingers, they brush one another
and I dart my eyes to avoid the truth.
The electricity I taste from that touch
sparks no fire against a stone.

If possible, I would bury myself
six feet under in those sorrel eyes.
For then I would be the twinkle there
shining, dancing when his laugh resounds.

He knows not of this adoration
nor will my lips ever tell him of such.
Till time comes and my folly is shattered,
I dream of Arctic kisses and Neverland love.

New York ♥

New York. I've never been. Actually I've not been anywhere really. Of course I plan on changing that. Starting with New York. I'll be there next summer, one way or the other. Hopefully, it will be with a group of close friends but if not, I'm not entirely scared of going by myself. I am beyond excited. I wish there was a word for the level of anticipation I am experiencing. I think I shall invent one.

fluzatration - the feeling of pure excitement, anticipation, and eagerness

So there. I am absolutely...fluztrated? I didn't really think that one through but eh, I don't want to hit backspace. That button gets way too much action. Such a whore. But nothing compared to the space button, ya know? Anyway, I am fluztrated. I also have a tinge of fear that I'll fall in love with the city and never be able to come home. I mean, I plan on living there one day or at least spending a large amount of time there but I'm not ready yet. It's too soon and I don't want to be a big girl yet. I still like crawling into my mom's bed Sunday morning. I'll miss that. Ah I'm such a mama's girl. Like my brothers but different. They are in their twenties and just managed to move out to a house...less than twenty miles away! I cannot imagine what it'll be like when I'm states away, countries away, oceans away! Because I will be. That's a promise. And New York, oh, New York is the first step.

Time will tell...

Perhaps I'll be honest
And tell you my truth.
But not now, my love,
I've too much to lose.

I fear you won't understand
Or you'll throw me away.
So I'll keep this secret
Until I know I'll be safe.

I trust you, I do.
But there's more to me
Than I care to share.
And your pressure cuts deep.

I've been wasting time,
Hoping you'd remain content.
Yet I see it in your eyes now,
All fun and no reality is ending.

In your heart you know.
In your mind you know.
But between you and me,
Can it remain unspoken?

It is my burden to bare.
And I choose not to,
At least not to now
Because you still love me.

Oh Kill Me

How can I tell you how much I love you?
Brief words don’t explain,
And forever takes to long.

However, you must hear of
The deep uncontrollable addiction,
I seem to have developed, for you.

Yet all the fighting, us, together yet disconnected,
I feel fetal around you, new, un-torn.
Fresh purity is my being with you.

Sweet glances are given, all
Is to cleanse you from past apparitions,
And feed me with my guilt.

Because now, a mistake sharing,
Closeness and intimacy with another,
Causes disruptions in our lives.

Foul words like snakes fall twisting,
Poison from open mouths that breath,
Smoke like snap dragons.

Lying here, breathing feels like a chore,
My chest, unclothed, weak.
You're the albatross crushing my heart.

I am trying to touch those,
Deep scary sensations, its impossible,
Almost to capture anything,

You shall forever have visions of something more,
I can feel my blood in my veins,
Hurting as it rushes circling in arteries.

First Place

No one likes to be let down
And no one likes to disappoint
So why, why, why the pressure?

When we're racing to win,
Is there even a prize at the end?

You have to do better,
You have to be better,
When it'll never get any better.

When we're racing to win,
Is there even a prize at the end?

All work and no play, no no,
Same ol' same ol', day after day.
Laughter don't live here now.

When we're racing to win,
Is there even a prize at the end?

If you stop to take a breath,
The world is going to pass by
So who really needs oxygen?

When we're racing to win,
Is there even a prize at the end?

Waking and Sleeping

Ice crystals form like webs, binding.
Twisting in the sheets, seeking warmth.
I'm lost somewhere in the in-between of

waking and sleeping.

Light rays peek in through dirty glass
But they smile at me to no avail.
Fall to winter is the season of

waking and sleeping.

My heart craves laughter's echo
But the cocoon of comfort is deafening.
Never will I tired of

waking and sleeping.

Hurt vs. Mad

I'm not mad.

I'm hurt.

Please understand that.

You people look at me like I don't have feelings, like I'm invincible, like cut me and I won't bleed. But I do. I bleed and I cry myself to sleep because you all think I'm so strong when I am truly not. I'm scared and worried and fragile. They laugh and make jokes about me being a whore or a slut, about how I don't deserve respect. And I laugh with them because at least then, they stay around.

If I tell you that you've hurt me, you'd roll your eyes.

You think it's funny.

But I don't.

I lack friends because I'm too afraid of letting them in. It is my fault you don't see my pain. It's because I don't let you. But I am tired of it. So tired, friend. I'm tired of smiling so the tears don't fall, laughing so no one knows it hurts. Please know, I'm not mad.

I'm just tired of being hurt.

Nap Time

I sleep more than I need and less than I want.

When others are running through sprinklers,
when starstruck eyes gaze upon blasts of color.
In the high heat where dogs' tongues taste air,
in a cornucopia of blankets to shelter from the frost.

I sleep more than I need and less than I want.

To forget the aches and pains of the day,
to prepare for the aches and pains of tomorrow.
To remember the joys, the happiness of before,
to escape into a world where love is never overused.

I sleep more than I need and less than I want.

What the Heart Knows

I don't pretend to know you
because I don't think I ever will.
You've taken everything I've known
and mangled it into a new sensation
that I'm not sure I like it.

I looked to you for the first time in love
and now I look to you in fear
because I'm scared of more than just us.
I'm scared of waking up and falling asleep.
I'm scared I've become too attached.


But this newfangled love is not new really.
It's just a collection of all the mediocre good
with scatterings of all the worst bad.
How can I walk away from the past
when it is now the gift you're giving every day?

The past is four letters.
Four letters of hate, pain, hurt, lies.
Four letters that are gone
yet you pour it down around me
like leaves in the fall.

I love you in spite of myself.
No. I love you to spite myself
and though I beg my heart to forgive me my sins, 
I cannot bring my feet to run away.
I love you but I promise I don't like it.

Appearance and Boyfriends

Okay basically I keep thinking about this over and over again and I just want to say (type) it out loud to get it out of my system. So what it is is this. I'm...not unattractive? I mean, I feel pretty maybe twice a month but most days, I don't really like anything about my physical appearance but I know other people think I'm pretty. I've been called hot, sexy, fine, cute, adorable, pretty, beautiful, gorgeous, blah blah blah. I don't exactly agree with all of those but in my head, I guess I know that I'm not ugly.


Which brings me to my boyfriend. To me, he's one of the cutest guys I've ever met. When he smiles, I can't help but smile back. I could just stare at him for hours and enjoy every second. His picture has been the background on my phone for months, even before we started dating officially. But just as I know I'm not unattractive to most people...I know that he isn't exactly attractive to them.

But I don't care what other people think. He's adorable and handsome in my eyes. And I understand that loving someone's personality basically makes them more physically pleasing to you just as someone who annoys you is more likely to be ugly in your opinion. So what it comes down to is I don't think I'm pretty even though majority of people would say I am and I think he's amazing to look at whereas not as many people would agree.

My mom happened to blatantly point this out this other when I asked what she thought of him. I'll be honest, it had crossed my mind before but once she remarked upon it, I haven't gotten it out of my head. Her opinion is that I knowingly or subconciously, most likely the latter, choose guys who aren't as attractive as me so I'll be the better looking one in the couple and therefore more focus would be drawn to me, leading to more praise and compliments which in turn boosts my self-esteem and makes me feel more worthwhile and better.

So I started thinking about it. And I don't know if she's right or not but most of the guys I've dated or been involved with, they aren't that attractive in society's view. I don't know if maybe just my taste in what's attractive is different than the norm or if I really do choose less attractive guys to make me feel better about myself. I look at all my couple friends and I don't see as noticeable a difference in their levels of attractive-ness as I see in my boyfriend and I.

I mean, I love him and if he was identical looking to Brad Pitt, I'd still love him just as much as I'd love him if he looked like E.T. Well...actually I don't know. E.T. gave me nightmares

Seventeen

When I was three, I wanted to be a princess.
Who knew I'd end up such a beautiful mess?
Such pretty scars decorate my thighs and wrists.
Oh how I adore life with its sadistic twists.

When I was four, all they did was fight.
So finally we snuck away in the dead of night.
Sometimes I get a little mad at her for leaving
But I know it's only the loss of innocence I'm grieving.

When I was eight, Mama had me baptized.
And every other weekend, Daddy just criticized.
Now looking in the mirror, I hate what I see,
Cursing whatever God created me.

When I was nine, my little sister was born.
That was the happiest smile I'd ever worn.
She grew up so good, sweet, and perfect.
And I have to fight daily to prove I'm worth it.

When I was fourteen, I fell for this boy.
No matter what he did, I'd never known such joy.
Looking back, why did he have to be my first?
Of all the guys I've had, he hurt me the worst.

When I was fifteen, I tried to kill myself.
Instead I spent a week working on my mental health.
So now I take my meds to try and help the pain
But I'm terrifed that people think I'm insane.

And soon seventeen years will have come and gone.
My past, I know now it was the dark before my dawn.
And though I remember all that's happened before,
I look forward to another seventeen more.




I'll be seventeen on Friday. How horribly scary is that? How horribly miserably scary is that? I've been dreaming of growing up for years and each birthday, I couldn't wait for the next but now, can we rewind? Can I start over and play in the sprinkler again? Can I lick the cake batter off the spoon? Can I hug a boy on the playground innocently? Can I make clover crowns and spin till I fall down? I didn't have the best childhood but lately I've come to realize maybe it wasn't exactly the worst because it made me who I am and right now, I love who I am. I love my friends, my family, my boyfriend. Life is so good. And the scariest thing is...I'll be seventeen on Friday.

Let's make it official.

I decided this a few days ago but just now realized I needed to acknowledge elsewhere besides my mind. I'm taking a sabbatical from blogging. It's not you and it's not me. It's the loss of inspiration, motivation, creation. And I'll be honest, I know why it's all gone.

See I haven't had the best life and for the most part, I keep it hidden from the people in my reality and I've been keeping a lot of it from you too. Maybe when I come back, we can start fresh and I'll tell you all the sad things that give me a purpose to write.

To make things sweet and short, I've had many people say I'm many things but the most common is BPD. Borderline personality disorder. I don't know, I just think it's a really fancy way to say "prone to mood swings and over-sensitivity". But it sucks nonetheless and starting in April, I began a new anti-depressant.

If it's helping, I guess I'd be the first to know, right? Except I don't really. I mean, things have been a lot easier and a lot more seems to be going well but I don't like the lack of writing. It's an out for me to distract me from more damaging consequences. Without it, I'm confused and awkward feeling.

So I'll be back soon. Once I find something or someone to give me cause to words, I'll return but right now, right here, there's nothing I need to say that seems of any importance to anyone. I'll try to make this short because I don't want to be gone and be forgotten.

Smile.

Complications of Love

I'm a little...conflicted. Is that the word I should use? Or does confused work better? Struggling? Perplexed? Torn?

There's this kid. I don't know if I've talked about him before. But I call him Bunny 'cause we were talking this one time and he was going on about how strong, tough he is, such a beast. And I told him that he was about as beasty as a little, fluffy bunny. It just stuck from there, ya know? He's my Bunny, he's been my Bunny, and he'll always be my Bunny.

But I love him. I love him so much and I have for the longest time. It hasn't always been a romantic love, at first it was merely that of a best friend. In the past few months, I've grown addicted. Hopelessly, to be honest. I wake up with memories of his smile from dreams and I go to sleep with a picture of him in my mind. So many times throughout the day, my thoughts drift to him, when I'll see him again. We don't get to see each other too often. Different schools and his dad is a little overprotective.

Except we had our first date recently. We went to a park and walked around. Down by the river, he tried to teach me how to skip stones. His hand wrapped around my tiny one and I felt my cheeks blaze. The smell of his shampoo in his still damp hair was crisp and sweet. He laughed when the stone I threw sank to the muddy river bed and I reached to smack him but he pulled me close, trapping me in his arms. I looked up and into his honest eyes as he leaned down to kiss me.

When his lips touched mine, I felt like I was dancing in the middle of a storm. Normally his smile, his laugh, his touch sends a gentle shock to my heart and revitalizes my happiness. But that kiss, that kiss was shooting lightning straight into my veins and I never had felt that before. And I can't wait to feel it again.

Yet...I don't know if I can because he doesn't want to be with me. Wait, no, he doesn't want to be with anyone really. And still he tells me I'm beautiful, amazing, so special to him. He'd do anything for me and cares more about my happiness than his. He doesn't want me dating other guys and he doesn't want to date other girls. Talks all about wanting to kiss me, hold my hand, see my smile.

He thinks a relationship right now is silly because a relationship is to find love and we already have that, don't we? My friends say he's using me, abusing my love. Lately, I'm starting to wonder that myself but I don't want to walk away. Not yet. It's too soon and I'm not ready to let him go. So I told him he has until June 25th, my birthday, to claim me as his girlfriend and be my boyfriend. If he won't, then I'm done. I'm gone from his life because I wouldn't be able to move on if I still spoke to him.

Scared. That's the word. I'm scared. So scared.

[I] don't [need] [you.]

Can you stop talking
Please
You say you love me but I know you
Don't
So hurry up. Just go ahead and
Leave.

The best kind of couples

I'm obsessed with becoming wonderful,
But I can't even manage to be beautiful.

Baby make a move before it's too late.
The worst will come only if you hesitate.

I love you completely and madly, I do,
Except I'm not even sure I know you.

He's never going to realize,
Every promise, it's all lies.

It's not that I want to be perfect.
It's that I just want to be worth it.

He can't tell that my heart is breaking
'Cause it's perfect, the smile I'm faking.

There's been so many guys in my bed
And yet he's the only one ever in my head.

You're cute, you're funny, you're smart.
It sucks that you don't have a heart.

Sweet love, oh my, sweet misery,
How you must adore me.

My oh my, how they think I'm stupid.
But it's just...I've been struck by Cupid.

Please don't go, don't walk away.
There's still so much I've yet to say.

Is it really worth all the pain,
His kiss that sends lightning through my veins?

Just because I knew I should,
It didn't mean that I ever would.

I'm never going to be the one.
So forget this, I'm done.

Dreams

Do they mean anything? Are they our subconscious trying to reveal something hidden away? Or are they just mindless brain babble drooling into our slumber? If you dream of the past, does that mean you haven't let go of it? If you dream of the future, are you trying to escape your present? And If you dream in fantasy, are you unhappy with reality?

When I kiss his soft lips, am I in love? When our fingers intertwine, why do I feel so flush? When he smiles at me, can I make myself stop grinning back? And if I can, do I really want?

Lately I've been dreaming of this kid. It's disturbing me because he is not someone I should be thinking of as I rest my wear soul. To say I dislike him would be an understatement. To say I loathe him would be playing nice and when it comes to him, I don't do nice. I could understand if he was merely a participant or a bystander or even a victim in my dreams. But he isn't. He is the dream, my dream. Everything seems to revolve around him, me, us.

He hasn't spoken a word to me in months, though I see him nearly every day. But in my dreams, his gentle voice speaks to me in the tone of a lover. And the only time his laughter has anything to do with me is to chuckle at my misfortune yet as I dream, our laughs mingle and taste of sugar. And even though I catch my gaze searching a crowed room for him, he barely, if ever, glances my way. Except last night, oh last night he had eyes only for me.

These dreams have me lost in confusion, searching for an answer, a solution, something. But the more I think, the harder it becomes. I can't even focus in my studies for my thoughts drift ot him. It was bad enough he's been plaguing my dreams, but now he is infecting my days.

Could I be worrying too much? Maybe it's merely a fluke, a silly mistake in the imaging of my mind because I know I don't love him. How could I possibly when my heart belongs to another? And be sure that it does belong to another. A boy who is sweet and caring, who respects me despite my past, who sends lightning through my body with every kiss. That is who I should be dreaming of. But I'm not and it's ever so perplexing.

I just hope the dreams remain dreams and they pass like the winds of the night.

Retreat

I retreat to a place where I feel safe,
A small dark corner of loneliness,
where I cannot be hurt.
The silence and pitch black are so pure...
So quiet....

Here,
No one can judge,
No one can criticize,
I am myself --

And no one is here to see me.
No one is here to question my motives,
Or scorn me for being motiveless,
In my place I can dream,
I can sit and not move for hours,
I'm at peace.

My soul is light,
But my heart rains heavy,
Anchored down by a memory,
Bruised and scared,
By heartache and heartbreak.
Betrayed to many times,
Blind-sighted more.

This sacred place,
This dark and quiet place,
Myself....
My little world inside my head.
My little ditch of serenity,
In this enormous wall of life.

What happens,
Happens...
It is set in stone
But in my place,
I live my life the way I want to.
I think what I want to think,
I feel what I want to feel.

I am alone, yes.
But in the company of
Soundless speakers,
Blind observers,
And deaf learners.

My thoughts,
My ideas,
floating around in bubbles that I pop.
They are mine!
In my little world everything is mine.
I ask of you...
Is it better to be heartless than heartbroken?
Is it better to be dead than living?

In my place,
Those questions dont matter...

Prom.

I haven't posted much lately. If it's alright, I'd like to use the excuse that I've been incredibly busy but it's a bit of a lie. I'm supposed to have been busy yet nothing has been accomplished. College is a whirlwind romance of the worst kind and I'm excited there's only a few weeks left but on the other hand, I'm scared. I'm growing up too fast. I don't want to. I want to stay a little girl with pigtails and grass stains on her knees.

Except I haven't been that little girl in years. Tonight will prove it all the more. I'll be wearing a long, elegant gray dress with painted lips and polished nails. My hair will be washed, combed, straightened into perfection. The necklace I'm wearing matches perfectly with the earrings and shoes. And I'll smile for all the posed pictures.

Dear...

Dear Creepy Gas Station Redneck,

I know that I am voluptious. I know I have sexy curves and valleys. Not to mention my badonkadonk is the inspiration for Sir-Mix-A-Lot.Quite simply put, I am delicious and you are aware of this because you start oogling me the second I stepped out of my pimpin' ride, the Mommy Mobile.Of course you noticed me immediately when I pulled up to the gas pump. That Ford Escort Station Wagon is probably the most yummy vehicle devised with all that junk in the trunk. And when I got out, the gas fumes surrounded me like the aroma from Aphrodite's used socks. My jeans were covered in dirt and grass stains from work that day and I had my man-poncho on. We both know if an orgasm was a person, I'd be it. But that does not mean you're allowed to gaze upon me with squinty eyes and lick your chapped lips like a wolf ready to feast upon a lamb. I am not a lamb. I am a fierce tiger and if I hadn't been on a mission, I would have attacked. You're lucky I was deteremined because when I exited the store, you were still there in your rusty pick up truck. Of course, I ignored you and continued on my way to fill the tank up but did that stop you? No. You started up that old whore and even though she gagged and sputtered, you drove up next to me and try to talk to me. And that is where I draw the line. You may lust for me with your eyes but to actually speak to me? Ha! I am the girl your mama said you could never get. Mainly because I was about forty years from being born. But even so, please stop creepin' on my sexy body. It's highly disturbing and you scared that cute blonde away.

Yours truly,
I'm not telling you my name, freak.

Dreaming of forever

Last night I had a dream, set in black and white. We were in the City of Lights. Snow was falling but it wasn’t very cold. You spun and twirled and danced, trying to catch a flake upon your tongue. Once landed on the tip of your nose and you laughed. Oh you laughed and it was sweet and it echoed down the street, whisking into darkened alleys. People paused to stare but you didn’t take heed. Instead you began to hum. Your steps soon fell in tune and I felt my heart follow your beat. The street was your stage, the moon your spotlight. Streetlamps lit up the flecks of snow in your dark hair and as you started to sway, they shimmered like diamond dust. Your whole body moved in a melody that came from somewhere. It must have been your soul. I started to reach for you, to pull you back to me but something had claimed you and I could only watch. All anyone could was watch. You were too beautiful to look away. The rhythm quickened and you stretched your arms up to the sky. The mitten overlaps had fallen away and the tips of your fingers caressed the stars and stroked the clouds. You traced patterns, weaving a picture only you could see, though your eyes had closed. Leisurely, you stood nearly still except for your hands which still danced in the air. The song your decadent lips had been whispering faded away and all that was left was the steady pace of your breathing. Somehow it was even more luscious than the music that had been you. My hands shook at my sides but even through the hesitation, I managed to take a step towards you. Then another and another and finally I was standing behind you. Only a few inches were between your body and mine and those few inches were too much to bear. Slowly, I reached my own arms up to the length of yours and for a second, I considered grasping your hands in mine but something once again stopped me. Instead about half way down your ivory wrists, I grazed your cool skin and trailed my fingerprints downward along the smooth canvas of your body. To your shoulders, you shivered as my touch nibbled along your neck. Down the blades of your back and the contours of your ribs, my hands followed a trail only they had a map to. Encircling your body, they came to rest on your stomach and my lips nestled in your sweet spot where shoulder meets neck. Against your skin, I whispered your name and though I couldn’t see your innocent face, I felt the secret smile that nobody knows but me. Though I couldn’t look into those doe eyes, I knew they were open in a sleepy Sunday kind of way. Your arms gracefully fell to your sides where they were made to be and your hands overlapped mine where they belonged. Leaning back into me, I tasted your smell of butterscotch and spring time. And I knew in that moment, I knew I could never live without you.

I want you to love me

Because sometimes I talk in my sleep.
Because I drive with the window down and the music up.
Because my ears are cute.
Because Froot Loops make me happier than Swiss chocolate.
Because I can make a three leaf clover with my tongue.
Because my mom is one of my best friends.
Because this heart has been broken but still hasn't quit.
Because Donnie Darko gave me nightmares.
Because when I yawn, I squeak.
Because I sing not just in the shower but everywhere.
Because I sing even though I know I'm horrible.
Because I admit I sing horrible.
Because it doesn't take much to confuse me.
Because my friends come first.
Because I spent hours looking for my grandpa's grave in the rain.
Because at night, when I'm alone, I leave the lights on.
Because I believed in Santa Claus until I was a month shy of sixteen.
Because my first kiss was under the bleachers at Homecoming.
Because I don't laugh, I giggle.
Because against all reasoning, I still have faith in true love.
Because I don't wish on shooting stars.
Because I do wish on eyelashes.
Because Dancing Queen is my favorite song.

But most of all I want you to love me because I'm me,
not just because I love you.

Stupid. stupidity.

There's this boy I know. Actually he's a former beau of mine. And at one point, I would have given anything to just see his smile. Does that sound too cliché? Well I don't care if it does or not because that's how I felt. I remember begging him to sing for me on the phone at two in the morning because it helped me to dream of him and his amazing smile. We knew each other only a short while but there was something about him that just tingled my heart. I blame it on that smile. That wonderful, breath taking smile...

And now...oh now...he annoys the hell out of me. We don't even talk and I find him to be one of the most obnoxious kids I've ever met. Maybe it's how we ended that has made me so bitter or maybe it's the fact that he's stupid and a jerk and cocky when he has no reason to be. Ha and he says I flatter myself too much. At least I have reasons to flatter myself. Plus he acts like he's such a good person. Bah humbug. He's not. I mean I know that I'm not the greatest person in the world and that whole thing about stones and glass houses but still. I can just hear his name and it makes me want to strangle a puppy. The cuter the puppy, the better. Does that make me a bad person? Well if it does, blame it on that ridiculously dumb smile.

My Monster, Love.

I stretch my fingers out and try to feel for the monster's spine, I get nothing. I keep stretching. I want to feel, the bumps that go up and down it's bare naked back. I feel some thing, my fingertips grow cold and I’m shocked by the heat of what I feel. It’s not bare, it has marks. I don’t open my eyes. This is a nightmare I can already tell. I trace my fingertips over what feels like leather. My mind starts to race. I continue to feel the leather skin, until the monster moves. I jerk my fingers away and curl up into a ball. I hear someone breathing. No, some thing breathing. A silent laugh escapes it‘s lips. I can see her eyes, I can feel them. See her smirk, she touches me with her fingers. I stop breathing. I don’t dare to move. She tells me to hush and relax. I listen. She tells me to sleep, I can’t. I can’t force myself out of the nightmare that is already happening. I’m praying, praying to God to make me numb, as numb as I can get. She runs her fingers in my hair, I cringe, she stops and places her hand on my shoulder and holds me down. She tells me to open my eyes, I don’t, she yells at me. I listen to her and open them. Her face is burnt, her eyes yellow, her mouth in a smirk. I grow numb and sigh. She tells me secrets, I listen. She tells me that I’m fat, I believe her. Everything she says, I believe. She says that she’s now her best friend. I believe her and fall asleep into a deep, deep, sleep.

Sands of Time

Why is it, that I can hate you more with each passing day
and yet, when I see you, my heart
has palpitations;
rejoicing,
reveling in your beauty,
charm,
talent…

Your talent—it serves to do nothing
but make you more insufferably arrogant
and so painfully removed
day
by day
by day, and thus,
you are becoming nonexistent.
I am nonexistent,
invisible,
imperfect,
disillusioned,
human,
mortal.

I never measure up to your impossible standards;
your criticisms cut me to the soul.
You may have no soul.

It’s entirely possible.
For how can you be so
wrong,
so stubbornly insulting my virtue?

I am not Her.

I could never be Her,
She who stole your heart’s innocence
and betrayed you,
ripping out your heart and leaving it
bleeding
on the ground.

She stepped on it with her Uggs
as she walked to her new man,
Jeans hugging her bone crisp hips,
Her extensions and bleached-blond hair swinging in the breeze.

I’m a brunette,
an hourglass figure
that is losing sand faster than I can hold it in.
Time slips like tears through my fingers as I watch you slip
away.
Or maybe I’m just pushing you
to the brink.

The brink of nonexistence is a scary place.
The trees are green,
the grass is soft,
the air is sweet with the heady, secret scents of sea and lavender that we both loved;
breathing them in,
deep into our lungs,
we traded them, passing the bewitching flavors back and forth between our mouths,
our breath mingling,
bodies intertwining…
but you are not here.

Here,
in my heart,
you’ll always be here.
But at the brink of that imperfect world,
as I cross over,
I know you’re gone forever.

Awards? Me??

This keeps shocking me. But I've recently gotten two awards. First, I received the Path to Enlightenment Award from Lovesick Fool who is a beautiful person, whose very words can bring tears to my eyes, smiles to my soul.

"This award is for people who are continuously seeking knowledge of the world and their places in it and who share their discoveries on their blogs. It's also for people who keeping posting and commenting, inspiring those of us who seek purpose, giving us a reason to keep coming back and sharing."

And so I am passing this darling award on to Safiaaaaa over at Thinkers Reverie. Every thing she writes touches me (in a non pedophile-ish way) and is so amazing relateable. She's also a really sweet person who just awarded me the Honest Scrap Award.

This is "for bloggers who put their heart on display as they write from the depths of their soul." You write 10 honest things about yourself that are not common knowledge and then you pass it on to 6 fellow bloggers that touch your heart by the honesty and sincerity they give with each post.

So here are my ten things.

1) I am terrified of chickens. Everything about them makes me want to curl up in a ball of blankets and cry. Their beady eyes, their funky shaped beak, their wrinkled feet, it all terrifies me. Just recently, I held my first baby chicken though. They aren't so bad because if worse comes to worse, I could probably throw it a very far distance. It's the big ones I worry about.

2) Even though I'm a vegetarian, I sometimes wonder what it would be like to eat the more exotic meats. Like quail. I don't want to kill the animals but I guess it's the curiosity that gets me. My mom would hate me if she found that out.

3) About a year or so ago, and for the following months, I was in love with Bestest. I even managed to tell him my feelings and he shot me down. Repeatedly. I think it's because he's such a geek (and my inspiration for my geek post). Sometimes I still cry over him but I know it's for the best.

4) No matter how well I do at something, I never think it's enough. Okay this one is a little more well known but I rarely admit it out loud. It's like if I win second place, I'll beat myself up for a few weeks for not getting first. Even if I get first, I think there was a mistake.

5) Okay haha this one is kind of gross but when I was younger, I didn't suck on my thumb. Instead I was really flexible and if I got extremely upset, I would suck on my big toe. I know, I know. Ewwww!

6) I have a huge crush on Kevin Jonas. Like if he asked me to spawn little Jonas children, I most definitely would do that, much to the dismay of the majority of my friends.

7) As tough as I act in front of people usually, every negative thing someone says I take to heart. I care so much about everyone's opinion but I act like I don't so they don't realize they're winning the battle. Like with Arch Nemesis. Every single insult he has thrown at me has made me take a second look at myself and a third and usually a fourth. Can you imagine if he found out I truly cared about what he said to me?

8) One time, I had a dream about Arch Nemesis. And we were courting. He was holding my hand and trying to explain something to me. The rest of the dream didn't really make sense and the next day I wanted to wash my brain out with bleach. So horrible.

9) This one is kind of icky too but I love the smell of dirt. Not like gross dirt but the earthy smell of sorta wet, gritty ground. My nana's basement smells exactly like it and so I would sneak down there to just sniff the walls. I would lick them to try and taste it too but it never worked.

10) This was really hard. There isn't that much I don't tell people if they're willing to ask and even if they don't ask, I still let it be known. I guess I just don't see the point in hiding too much because then how can anyone say that they truly like me if they don't know the real me?

Now to pass this along....

Ducky at Flying Underwater, she's just herself with no pretending or facade and it's amazing. She's amazing.

Katieleigh at goodbyeanimosty, pictures or words, this young lady shows a side of herself that reflects the beauty in the world.

Heather at Inspiration, incredibly touching in a wonderously poetic sense.

Ary Vee at Mushy Love Song, she posts quite a bit and every single one takes my breath away.

Jon at Me Vs. College, through all of his adventures and humor, he stays true to himself and I'm highly envious.

Lovesick Fool at Voices of the Heart Broken, I could write for hours about how beautiful and true this girl is but I'd rather you see for yourself.

Wow, that took way longer than I expected. Hope you enjoyed!

Comet, Comet

We were nothing
and that, to me,
that was everything.

Our eyes exploded
in a supernova
of the greatest black holes.

Almond, alienoid, curved,
our bodies made out of light.
You were you yet me too.

This is their reality,
our infinitesimal imagination,
cradled in the collarbone of God.

Perforated with everything that is,
rocketing into
azure places where dreams live.

We were no longer two.
We named new colours and
fed our songs to the stars.

Regardless...

regardless of what he says,

i'm pretty.

regardless of what he thinks,

i'm smart.

regardless of what he does,

i'm funny.

regardless of him,

i'm me.

♥ Love Questions ♥

These questions are from a truly beautiful person, Lovesick Fool. Her answers are quite remarkable and I doubt my following ones will even make sense. But, cheers!


a.What do you search for in a partner?

There isn't much specific really. Honesty, faithfulness, humor, wit. Usually I'll give anyone a chance but if I don't feel safe in their arms, I know that I'll never fall in love with them.

b.Is it appearance that initially attract you to a person?
I won't lie. I choose people like I choose my books. If the cover doesn't really interest me right away, it most likely won't be in my to-read list. If it somewhat appears intriguing, then I'll take a peek inside the jacket and if I like what I see, I'll be more willing to dive in deep. There are a few exceptions however.

c.How often or have you ever thought of sex?
How much did Freud say our actions were influenced by sex? 'Cause mine is probably half of that. Don't get me wrong. I've thought of it a lot and I don't plan on stopping but that's all it is. Thoughts. I'd prefer to snuggle or hold hands on a walk through the park or throw popcorn at each other during a movie.

d. Do you believe in true love?
True love means different things to different people. Do I believe there's a type of love who only feel for one person? Yes but do I believe that makes your other feelings of love any less? No. I believe in all love.

e. How many relationships have you been in?
Ahh I guess that depends on how you view relationships. I've had my fair share (and a little more) of boyfriends, hand holders, stolen kisses, I like you and you like me, etc. But when it comes to those who now have a piece of my heart, that would be five.


f.What is your thought on commitment?
It's scary. I know it shouldn't be because it's a necessity for happiness with another person but right now, it terrifies me. Well not completely. There's one or two kids I wouldn't mind be stuck with for a while ha.


g. How easy is it for you to say the words "I love you?"
Too easy. I can say them like I say my name. The real question is how easy is it for me to mean those words?

h.How long was your longest relationship so far?
Around seven months. It would've been forever if he could have chosen.

i.What would you consider to be the best anniversary present?
I guess it depends on the anniversary and couple. I think as a relationship progresses certain things should be exchanged. Like a few months into the relationship, the girl should have one or two shirts of his to sleep in. For me, say on a one year anniversary, it would be something like a home cooked meal and snuggling under blankets on a couch, followed by something extremely, incredibly important to him, something sentimental.

j. What made you fall in love with your partner or what would make you fall for a person?
His laugh. I think that's what usually gets me. Right now I can close my eyes and think of him, sitting across me. Then he smiles and starts laughing. It's like being tucked into bed on a winter night after a big mug of hot chocolate.


k. If your love suddenly becomes disable would you still treat them the same?
If I truly loved them, nothing would make me treat them any different unless they hurt me purposely or I fell out of love.

l. If your beloved changes personality, would you still love him/her?
That's a tricky question. He could change for the better and make me fall more in love but then he wouldn't be who I first fell in love with so it might be like falling in love all over again.
m. Would you love someone completely even with his/her flaws or try to change him/her?
If I wanted to change him, then I didn't love him for who he is. Unless it's something like smoking or drinking too much. Then I would suggest he change if he's looking for a real commitment out of me.


n. If the most important person hurt you, would you still love him/her?
Yes. It would take me a great amount of time to forgive and I'd never really forget but I would still love them regardless. Even if I had to walk away out of my best interests, I'd love him still. However I can only handle so much pain and if it kept happening, the feelings would fade.


o. Why do people date someone who is bad for them?
For me, I've gotten better at choosing partners but before, it was because that's all I felt I deserved. No amazing guy would want me so why even bother trying for something healthy and good?

p. What is your opinion on cheating/love affairs?
It depends. I won't lie. I've cheated before. I was trapped in a loveless, abusive situation and I went out with a friend after crying to him all night long. What we did wasn't based on sex (not that we did it) or lust but it was comfort and it gave me the courage to walk away from that boyfriend. However, repeated cheating with random partners, that's wrong.

q.Have you ever been in a one-sided love? How did you get over it?
I have been and I don't know if I've ever gotten over it because I can still see his face or hear his name and pain, loss, love rushes over me.

r. Were you ever in love with more than one person at the same time? Is that considered to be true love?
This comes down to true love again? I have loved two people at the same time and I know it's entirely possible because the love you feel for each is different. My first love, I will always, always love him but does that mean the person I give my heart to next, I won't love them? No, it's just different.


s.Define: Love
Love is everything. It's smelling first blossom of spring, it's blowing bubbles under a summer sun, it's jumping into autumn leaves, it's catching a snowflake on your tongue. The colors in the sunset, the taste of rain, the whispers from the wind. It's all the beauty in the world and the ability to sacrifice all of it for that one person.

Decaf or regular?

Kisses given are bitter,
Bittersweet on my lips like coffee.
But how can it be resisted
When you’re a caffeine addict?
These days apart,
These days are my withdrawal.

Middle of the night is colder now.
Or is it just the white porcelain against my cheek?
Never thought I’d sink so low.
This is my body purging in need.
This is my soul purging in pain.
And hey, coffee seems sweeter than bile.

They’re laughing at me, I hear it.
Those whispers are heat seeking missiles
And I must be running a fever of one oh three.
Even strangers are pointing so strangely.
But this paranoia is real, legit.
It’s protecting me from them getting too close.

And you come back on a red eye tonight.
96 hours, 5760 minutes, 345600 seconds.
That’s not enough time to truly live.
That’s not enough time to barely live.
Maybe it’s enough time to overdose
As chapped lips start to crack and bleed.

New Friend?

I met a boy.


Wait, I met a man.

No, I met a boy-man.

Hm…man-boy?

Whatever he is, I met him and I like him. Actually, I met him several months ago while I was wearing an adult diaper and sucking on a pacifier. That was a good Halloween. He’s a friend of a friend and he happened to be on their porch, helping in the handing out of candy. Quick introductions were made but like a teenage make out session, it was fast and sloppy and soon forgotten. A few weeks later he began to “poke” me on one of those social networking sites. And of course, me being me, I never end a poke war so we continued the battle for a while before an actual friend request took place. Then we began talking quite frequently and I found myself drawn to him.

So did one of my friends. She was extremely taken by him and maybe it’s the old fashioned girl in me but I try to live by the motto “Chicks before dicks.” So when he invited me to hang out with him and she asked me not to, I did the only thing I thought I could. I didn’t hang out with him. But I told her that she only had a little bit of time before I decided to make a move myself so she would have to not hesitate if she really wanted to win him over.

Well it has been almost three months since then and we’ve continued our online friendship. It’s been hard to say the least to continue making up excuses as to why I couldn’t meet him in person (he said our first meeting didn’t count) or hang out with our growing mutual group of friends if he was in attendance.

Finally, I gave in. It was a…rocky….get together at first because of his sudden conflict at work but eventually we managed to meet a local park. I brought us a couple of DQ blizzards and we slurped on them as we trekked through the hiking trails there. After a few hours, we finally broke out of the woods, discarded our long empty cups, and sat on a picnic table simply talking until it was so dark, we couldn’t see our own noses.

And…maybe it’s just me…but I felt something real. Could it be that I’m just lonely? Is it that I’m desperately grasping for something just to have something? I don’t really think so. From the second he pulled up and stepped out of his car like a prince dismounting from his gallant steed, part of me was mesmerized and awe struck in the way of a peasant, not a princess. Did I let it show? Probably. I’ve never been good at hiding my feelings of adoration. But was it awkward? Not for one moment. The conversation and witty repartee flowed like beer in an Irish pub (hey that makes up for the lack of a St. Patrick ’s Day post, right?). We joked and laughed and bantered as if we had been friends for years instead of minutes.

I think this could be the start of a beautiful friendship, yeah?

April Fool's Day

I missed you on April Fool’s day. I thought of writing you then but I decided not. You see, I’m not one for the writing of the Hallmark holidays. It seems cliché. In reality what’s so different about them than any other day? Well besides the fact that they are a registered holiday and people seem a lot sillier with a justified excuse.


Does that sound too cynical? I have half a mind to erase it but seeing as how the mind is on loan, I don’t want to overwork it.

Don’t worry, I’m not so overly sadistic that I didn’t celebrate. Of course I did. I mean how is it physically possible to pass up a day where you’re giving legit permission to make someone else suffer? As humans, I feel we’re obligated to one day where we drop the façade and just treat each other like crap to make ourselves giggle.

This is April Fool’s Day. And as any sweet, loving, young woman, I had two jokes throughout the day. The first was a bit of a flop but overall, it provided me with a bundle of entertainment. See I have this friend, Keenan.

Yeah, that’s him. We’ve known each other since we were learning the art of cursive. He was a lot more awkward and clumsy while I was more docile and petite. Things change, eh? We met during the fall of our youth on a rec soccer team through the local YMCA. We’ve been best friends off and on since then because well, when it comes down to it, there’s not much holding our friendship in place besides some unseen bond. He’s prep and a jock. All of his clothes come from name brands and he goes to church every Sunday, youth on Wednesdays, and choir practice a couple times of week. He loves me even though I’ve kissed a girl or two. We don’t talk politics, economics, or religion unless we’re in one of our classes and having an open debate. Nobody, us included, understands why we are friends. But somehow it works.

So here was our plan. We both have profiles on an ever so popular social networking site and we decided to change our relationship status to being in one with each other. Of course, several of our closer friends knew right away that sneakiness was afoot but for those who lacked the pleasure of seeing us daily together, they were quite interested in our love affair. It was all going well until he got scared of his parents freaking out. Well, no, his mom freaking out. His dad loves me. So he decided to break up with me via the internet (while sitting next me) and proceeded to jump into a relationship with little Miss Ireland. That ho bag. I guess their relationship was more believable though because they have the same right winged, horrible opinions and, hey, they looked kind of cute together.

So that was joke one. Joke two? Well…that one is a little crueler. See I haven’t told you much about my mom, have I? This is her.

I’ll tell you about her later. For now, let’s just say we don’t have the normal mother-daughter relationship. So when she mentioned this plot, I of course jumped for it. Ah, sort of. I made her hold my hand while it took place because as daredevil I am, some things just rack my nerves. She told me to call her friend and pretend that she had been in a car wreck.

Sadistic, right? But I ran with it. I was so believable in my acting that I actually managed to work up real tears. She laughed so incredibly hard that she had real tears as well. We ended up doing it to a few of our friends (because my mom and I share friends despite the age difference). It was cruel, evil, and oh so entertaining.

Does joke two make me a bad person? Ya know what? Even if it does, I don’t mind because even now, it makes me giggle.



“I can’t help it that you look so sweet in your misery.”

Just some loneliness...

It's not like I mean to be so empty.

You've just taken my words away.

You've just taken my breath away.

I've been quiet the past few days, I know. It just seems that nothing I say right now seems to convey what I truly what it to. I have some stories to tell once I find my voice again. Maybe I'll check under the bed again.

Still

I must still love you but...
without love,
without hate.
And I still see you sometimes
with pretty smiles, dolled up eyes.
But you're lonely. All alone.

I still love you.
And pieces,
the pieces of me left shattered
they love you.
They love you.
Oh how they love you.

And that bitter pain,
the one that feels like you?
It sits inside my lungs and cries;
drowning me in saline solution.
The resin is my pain,
sticky like tar, touching everything.

A secret agony with an unbroken heart
you see me too.
Like a woman in black who grieves,
the wind wails.
The wind, my soul wails and mourns
for what never was and never will be.

Something forever unhealed,
this my private place
and yet you're here once again.
We see each other,
but we haven't even met.
Still I love you.

Bliss

lets play cannibals i'll eat your organs.
change the channel.
historically speaking, she was the queen.
don't choke too hard, fucker.
they had only seen their mother cry once.
elaborate stages, elaborate plots.
sing-sing housed his body but his heart was in the ocean.
turn green. the light, turn green.
roundhouse and everyone is DOWN.
the plague feels like this. quite bubonic.
what time is it in the east indies right now?
set the table right or i'll punch your face in again.
gutters don't catch the rain - let it slide
sweet oblivion in projectile vomit
the eye of the twister and its calm.
DRINKING THE AMMONIA NOW, THANK YOU OFFICER.
i never thought being an astronaut would be this hard.

My First Crush

I want to take you back a long time ago. A time when life was simple in my sandy blonde dog ears, stumbling around in the red dirt of my grandparents' farm, my home. My pink and white checkered dress would always get horribly messy but each time my mom washed it, my dress was so clean and pristine that I would always be itching to jump back into my own world of innocent mischief. The only time I cried was when my Barbie sneakers accidently squished a harmless bug or the nights that Daddy wasn't going to be home in time to check under the bed for the monsters. I was wide eyed and innocent in a world where I didn't believe wrong existed.

His name was Chad and now that I think of him, he will always be the cutest guy I've ever gaze upon with a wide eyed stare as he hammered sun warmed nails into our roof. He did various work on our house and around the farm so I would follow him with my four yeard old innocene like a puppy following a butterfly with wonder in his eyes. Chad would pick me up in his arms and swing me around and around and around under the golden sun until I couldn't breathe from laughing. He was in his early twneties and, as is common in a small town, already married to his high school sweetheart. Even now I believe she was a lucky girl because I still remember how his sweet, sweet eyes were the color of a crisp mountain stream as the frost of winter lay dorment once more.

He would always call me his future wife but I know I could never hold him to his promise. And that's okay with me because the memory of his eyes is enough for me.

I want to love him...

But I can't.

He hurt me. And that's putting it simply.

He betrayed my trust.
He violated my space.
He disrespected my feelings.

I tried to forget and I tried to forgive.
But some words cut too deep.

I want to love him. But I just can't.


I'm sorry.

Friends Let Friends Blog (subtitle by Ireland: this is proabably the best thing ever.)

Today, I have guest blogger! She's a weird, creepy, freak of nature but I quite adore her. Let's hear it for Ireland! You can find my post on her blog. Click that link thingie.
_______________________
thank you, thank you.

no really, stop. really.

enough applause already. I'm getting old here.

I don't really know what I'm going to write about. this was all very spontaneous.

um......

well, then "when in rome".....

I shall write a poem for you. this is probably going to suck, so I'm apologizing ahead of time.

I'm a poet and I didn't know it,
I can make a rhyme anytime.

(just kidding, here's my real poem)

cheese, soda, chocolate chip;
Indiana Jones hits people with his whip.
The bears go out for a night on the town,
and the radar makes a noise like "blip".

that is quite possibly the best thing I have ever written. I'm so proud of myself.


and, because I'm making this up as I go along, here is a funny picture I found on google that Nova said was "inappropriate" and I couldn't put it on her blog.

too bad, Nova. too bad.

those darn doggies. how dare they ruin a completely innocent picture that some old lady most likely was taking to show off her new living room furniture to her kids (who couldn't care less)?

at least her kids got a laugh out of it, and thankfully shared it with the rest of the world.

the other day, my older sister came over (she doesn't live with us anymore) to do some laundry. when I got home from practice, she was at the store or something, and had left a message for me to "please put her load of clothes in the dryer".

really, sister? REALLY?!

she just loves making me do stuff for her.

lucky for me, I found a couple of dimes and a quarter at the bottom of the washer that most likely fell out of the pocket of her jeans.

she still owes me the other half of my payment.

wasn't that a lovely story?

indeed it was.

um...

here's another picture, because my brain is fried and I haven't gone to bed before 1am all week. I typed in "random", and this is what I got:

awesome.

You Know

You know,
You could love me.
If only you'd let yourself.

You know,
I'm the girl of your dreams.
If only you'd forget the nightmares.

You know,
You care about me.
If only you'd quit denying it.

You know,
I'm here for you always.
If only you'd open your eyes.

You know,
This could be forever.
If only you'd try.

2 Hot 4 U

Okay. I'll admit it. I love Brad Pitt's ass. I fantasize about licking chocolate syrup off of Ryan Reynolds' abs. I started drooling uncontrollably at Gerad Butler. And have you even seen Jonathan Rhys Meyers? My god, he's better Adonis!

But really, oh, do you know who really gets me going? A Wood Elf druid with extreme dexterity and a Stonewood Compound Bow. That's an Everquest reference. Ya know, old school WoW? One of the last good MMORPG's.

In other words, geeks. Yes, I said geeks. Their pasty skin takes me back to arts and crafts using Elmer's glue in first grade but it's always the softest to touch. Every D&D remark that comes out of those chapped, Cherry flavored lips sends shivers down my spine. They know the difference between anime and manga. Between DC and Marvel. Between Star Trek and Star Wars. On Friday nights, they lay beneath 500 count Egyptian cotton and ponder the age old question, do Balrogs have wings?

Maybe it's just me but I find geeks to be ever so hot and sexy. Of course I'm not talking about ones that are 5'3, overweight, living in their parents basement. I'm talking about the Clark Kents of the world. Less buff but still you get the general gist. A true geek is usually scrawny everywhere...except where it matters...And that's all I need to start stripping to the theme song from Dr. Who.

Mama Called the Doctor

Scritch.
Scratch.
Scritch.

Don't look at me like that.
You've been judging me since I sat.
And I don't like your eyes upon me
'Cause I'm scared of what you'll see.

Scritch.

Did you write down that I'm insane?
'Cause I'm not, I just have a lot of pain.

Scratch.

Maybe I have issues with my dad
But that isn't the only reason I get sad.

Scratch.

I don't even know if it's possible to heal.
No, I don't know how that makes me feel!

Scritch.

Some days I can't get out of bed.
Some days I just live inside my head.
But isn't that normal nowadays?
Please say yes, please don't send me away.

Scratch.
Scritch.
Scratch.

Lover, I...

Outstretched arms, fingers yearning.
Lover, I see you.
Yet in your eyes, there is nothing.
The mask has faded through.
The words you speak ring untrue.

Sweet kisses, steadfast embrace.
Lover, I know you.
Thought there's a stranger in your face.
Someone different, it's someone new.
So I've begun to question things you do.

Laughter echos, smiles remain.
Lover, I want you.
But you're drowing me in pain.
I've lost the boy I once knew.
Now fear screams he's losing me too.

Soul dancing, heart beating.
Lover, I need you.
Still our time is fleeting.
Our days, our moments are few.
And no more nightmares will ensue.

Lover, I see you.
Lover, I know you.
Lover, I want you.
Lover, I need you.
But Lover, I no longer love you.

Lunacy

What I say isn't always what I mean,
And though I try, what I mean isn't what I feel
But what I feel is never what it seems
Because what it seems is never real.

Without stepping once, I can stumble,
Falling down, cut myself on frozen air.
Without speaking sounds, I can mumble,
Talking aloud, though nobody is there.

The words I love to write don't make sense.
Still graphite shapes letters with curves of a girl.
They hold my memories of a forgotten tense.
And in their valleys, my story can unfurl.

Maybe I'm crazy, but maybe I'm sane,
Trapped in a world where freedom is my cage.
Bodies bursting coloros in the gray mush of brain,
All calm and collected as we white out the page.

Sometimes I smile when somebody dies.
True, it may be wrong but tears make me giggle
Because my soul is the Lord of the Flies
And because in the ground, only worms still wiggle.

Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays, please lock me away.
Slam the door of a padded room and lose the skeleton key.
I'm going down so you don't need to be walking my way
'Cause those days are when I'm best and you'd fall in love with me.

You need to stop. Now.

Dear Arch Nemesis,

I've thought of another reason I loathe your absolute existence. You have a cute laugh and it annoys me to no end because people as horrific as you should not be allowed to have cute laughs that make me giggle when I hear them. Adorable chuckles should be reserved for adorable people and I know what you're thinking. You're thinking you're just the most adorable thing since I was dressed as Pebbles for my first birthday and my cousin who was born on the same day was dressed as Bam-Bam. Well you know what?

That WAS freakin' adorable and you come nowhere close to that. Your eyes are really creepy and ice blue like a Siberian Husky but not the good kind. No, yours are the kind that belong to the dog who eats the heads off of snow bunnies. You have a weird nose. It isn't too big or too small. It's just weird. And there. On your face. Your nose has no purpose. And your hair? Psh. Don't get me started. You had really pretty long hair and during the middle of WINTER when it's freezing COLD outside, you cut it all off. That was just dumb and now you look like an Army brat. Plus you have no ass. What good is a man if he's flatter in the rear than...something...really, really, really flat?

And you're a horrible person. Even if you were weird looking, you're an incorrigible, self-absorbed, pompous, arrogant poo-poo head! You insult me constantly and degrade my thoughts, opinions, feelings. I've never had one individual belittle so much and it makes me despise your parents for giving birth to such a demonic child. Except I don't really despise your parents because I don't know them and I'm sure they are very lovely people. They just happened to spawn Satan's son. You think you're so cool and clever. But you're not. You think you're so smart and funny. But you're not. Sometimes I want to ask you if you know that people aren't laughing with you, they're laughing at you. But then I feel bad when I think of that because unlike you I have a soul and I don't usually like to hurt other people. I like to hurt you but not to your face.

All in all, I would appreciate it if you stopped laughing cutely because it makes me feel a twinge of warmth towards you. For a second, when I hear your boyish little giggle, I forget what a monster you are and I don't like that feeling. So stop it. Laugh manically like all evil people should. MWAHAHAHAHA!! See? Even I can do it and I'm not evil. Therefore, you should easily be able to accomplish that and I'll stop forgetting you're a cootie head.

Love and licks,

Nova

Southern Love

Okay so I live in the gun-loving, deer-hunting, coon-chasing, dip-chewing, tabacco-spitting, beer-guzzling South. Bred and born in the heart of Virginia. Thus, I've grown up listening to country music. To be quite frank (even though I'm not. I'm actually Nova. Shut up. That wasn't a bad joke.), it's probably the only Southern thing that has stuck itself to me. And I love four wheelers, especially when it's nasty and muddy and it takes an extra three feet to stop 'cause you're sliding like Wilbur in a buttermilk bath. Otherwise, I'm a vegetarian and a extremist liberal. Sometimes you might catch me calling myself a punk third-wave feminism aesthetic. See, a majority of the time the children that grow up in the south go one of two ways.

Road A, they take on the ever so admirable title of "redneck" and have all the amazing attributes the South has to offer. You can commonly find them hanging out on the beds of their pick-up trucks in the Wal-Mart parking lot. They party hard with a baby on their hip. Most of these individuals don't make it too far from the cesspool of the small town they were raised in. Sometimes they do migrate a few miles to the neighboring country should they find a worthy mate. Their favorite past time can range from skinning a deer to tailgating at a home football game.

Road 2, those who choose to embark on this epic journey shun everything having to do with their culture. These are can be classified into several different categories and the subjects may range from gothic to drama geek to basically every cliqué that isn't "redneck". They bash country music, they shun four wheeling, and God forbid they ever participate in a shotgun wedding. Some of them will cry if they break a nail and others will protest the biting of nails because they have "feelings"! 

Road A or Road 2, is it really a choice on which you take? Or are you just basically screwed for life like me 'cause you just had to be born in the gun-loving, deer-hunting, coon-chasing, dip-chewing, tabacco-spitting, beer-guzzling South?

All An Illusion

Where can I run? Where can I hide?

Who can I trust? In whom can I confide?

What is real? What is see through?

And what on earth am I supposed to do?

Future Husband

This is probably one of my favorite games. Best played when you have a bunch of hyper, under-stimulated, so called "geeks" and a room full of unsuspecting prey. I feel like a lioness when I play. I watch and stalk my victim. My choice is always carefully selected and when I'm ready...I pounce!

Not really. If I randomly pounced on a stranger and screaming "YOU'RE MY FUTURE HUSBAND!!!", I'd probably get punched in the ovaries and I quite like my ovaries not getting punched. Instead this is how it really goes down:

Blonde 1: Guy in the black pea coat sitting in front of the water dispenser.

Blonde 2: I don't see him! Where?

Nova: You're the freakishly tall one. How can you not see him? He's next to girl in maroon too short dress.

Blonde 2: Hey! We need a camera so we can get his picture so I can see my future hubby's face.

Blonde 1: Don't look at me.

Nova: -pulls a camera from her handy dandy female jockstrap- A camera like this?

Blonde 1: You know you wouldn't even have to ask to take his picture. Just pull the camera out of there again and the guys'll be begging for it.

Blonde 2: Ahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!

Nova: He...he...he...not cool. Okay, go take the picture.

Blonde 1: I'm not touching that thing.

Blonde 2: You can do it, Nova. Just act like you're getting a bottle of water.

Nova: I don't have any money.

Blonde 2: You don't need money. Just look at them like you're not sure which to choose.

Nova: But...they are all water...

Blonde 1 & 2: -demonic voices- GO! DO IT! NOW!! GOOOO!

So against my better judgement I went. My camera was on and set to the blur reduction mode 'cause this was going to have to happen quick. The room we were in was a cafeteria and there were probably a good sixty or seventy people in there. I started slow, walking along a table of untrusting faces as they watched me advance. Nervously, I avoided their glares and spun around to be back to back with a cool column, holding my camera up like a pistol and I'm 007. I feel eyes targeting in on me from all around and I try to keep cool but it's not working. I retreat.

Nova: I can't doooo it!!

Blonde 1: Yes you can! Now go!!

This little action segue occurs several more times. Finally I got a friend to sneak me over there under the pretense of conversation. Unsuspecting fools. I snapped pictures repeatedly and managed to capture a few lucky shots. I did all of this for them and who is my future husband? Oh because of my hard work, I got to pick. Boy with cat ears that SHHs people or boy who sings Lady GaGa and starts dancing circles.

Wanna roll with him a hard pair, we will be.

A little gambling is fun when you're with me, I love it.
Russian Roulette is not the same without a gun
And baby when it's love if it's not rough it isn't fun, fun.



I apologize for the absolute lameness of this post.

Holy Water

"You're so strong. You made it through",
They say these things without a clue.
Yes, I'm still here, but I'm not strong,
Left wounded, bleeding far too long.

My pain it lives inside my skin.
Always on the outside, looking in,
I see this world from a broken angle
From the darkness, snared and tangled.

His sickness hovers always near
Reminding me of what I fear.
Yet beneath the overgrowth of ugly layers,
I'm all done crying my unanswered prayers.

I'm leaving behind his legacy.
As I toe the water, I'm finally free.
And willing this time I sink under
Bathing in a new world of wonder.

My First Blog Award

From: Lovesick Fool

This feels like the first time I managed to tie a knot cherry stem using only my tongue. I didn't know how I did that then [though I'm a master at it today] and I don't know how I did this now but I have to say thank you, Lovesick Fool. Recieving this award made me realize something about my blog. Now I know that I don't have tons of followers or hordes of screaming adolescents screaming outside my window but it makes me feel as someone out there truly is listening. I don't wish to sound like every other person who thanks their followers but you guys, thank you. Seriously. Every time I recieve a comment from y'all, my heart skips a beat [but in the good kind of way] because it's always something good and if you haven't noticed, good isn't something I'm used to. But I adore this blog and I adore you guys.

Now with this great award comes great rules.

1) I must pass on this award to another 15 bloggers who I recently discovered and love.
2) Inform your chosen bloggers of their award.
3) If you appear on this list, you must do the same and, like I'm doing, display this award on your blog, either in a post or on your sidebar.

This might prove a little bit of an obstacle for me because I'm not sure I can choose a mere 15 bloggers but I shall try my best. This may take a little while to fully complete and this post will be updated each time I find someone I feel is deserving of this award. Nonetheless, I shall obey the rules 'cause I'm such a good girl...

A Moment of Repose

Ireland: Why do you have that random picture there?

Me: I don't know. It's abstract-esque.

Ireland: It's really random...

Me: No, it's really cool.

Ireland: No, it's really weird.

Me: Well I'm weird. And I like it.

Ireland: ....loser.


I think there comes a point in a friendship where you don't even have to pretend to be nice. I'm not saying that once this pinacle is reached that you start insulting each other endlessly and the like. No, what I'm saying there comes a point in every good relationship where you both just stop pretending. It's an unspoken occurance yet you both know it. You've become comfortable with them and finally are able to trust them enough to stay by your side even if you don't praise them every day or rain down compliments. I have a hard time getting to this place with anyone because it's a scary place. It's even scarier when you have scars and secrets. So getting past this point, to me, it feels greater than finding a twenty in the pocket of my jeans, than reaching the summit after a three hour long hike, than completing a kart-wheel in fresh spring grass, than most anything. And I can't help but smile every time she calls me a loser.