I hate --I hate --3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
I hate that I have nothing better to do than to make this list.
I hate how I'm going to make about 43578978 typos while writing this.
I hate how I'm too lazy to go back and fix said typos.
I hate that I don't have word office or whatever to correct my typos.
I hate that my computer crashes every other month.
I hate how I still don't use a flash drive to back my work up.
I hate that I had so many unfinished, near-completion pictures I lost because of said crash.
I hate how long it takes me to finish art trades.
I hate how people take shit so seriously.
I hate that I used to take shit so seriously.
I hate how people can take the -internet- so seriously.
I hate that there will be those few select people who take these lists seriously.
I hate how out of those people, a few of them will pretend to take it seriously, but they really don't, and are just arguing for the lulz.
I hate how much I love reading do it for the lulz's stuff.
I hate yaoi.
I hate yaoi's incredibly scary fan base.
ObsessionIt takes 14 minutes and twelve seconds to walk to your home from mine every day. Your mother never fails to smile at me when she opens the door. I never fail to notice that it doesn't reach her eyes anymore.Obsession2 years ago in Emotional More Like This
You leave your door open an exact two point three centimeters. I don't think you do it on purpose. There is something wrong with the wood that has left it that way. I pause one foot outside the door and listen to you cough, trying to determine how sick you feel today. I hate that every time I think you are particularly ill, I am always right.
Six months, seventeen days and fourteen hours. That is how long its been since the doctors told us you had an illness. I sat there with your parents, listening to a man who said words like 'terminal' and 'leukemia', and counted the number of times he said 'patient' as if it were your name (Seventeen).
The blood bank says one unit is four hundred and fifty milliliters and I watch as they put the needle into my ar
I am eight years old.I am eight years old.I am eight years old.3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
My lips are perfectly pink. They don't need to look glossy or tinted redder. My cheeks don't need this, either. My eyes stand out well enough on their own without being lined with black paint. The mascara weighs on my lashes and makes me tired and itchy. This shit on my eyelids shouldn't be there, either.
That was a bad word. I am afraid to say bad words, but I've got a few in my head. My friend told me that the word "bitch" means "female dog," but I think she's wrong. I don't think I've ever heard it used in this context. Actually, I think it's a word for people like you. I say this to you with my eyes. You threaten me because you hear me loud and clear.
Every other weekend, I have to sit here and endure as you put this shit on my face. But that's not why you're a bitch. That's why you're an idiot. What makes you a bitch is the fact that you expect me to be silent and still every time your hand slips and the curling iron burns the top of my ear, or you
You Are BeautifulAm I fat? Am I ugly? Am I stupid? Am I hated? Am I a failure? Am I loser? Questions. Questions we ask ourselves, questions others make us think about. The kind you ask yourself as you stare in your bathroom mirror, wondering if what they say is true; wondering if what you're thinking about yourself right now is the truth. You'll try and push your stomach in, you'll try and hide your spots, hide the wrinkles that you think you see. You will do all this and pretend; pretend to be different, pretend that this person you're imagining is who you should be; is a person better than who you are right now.You Are Beautiful3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
Before you know it, you're looking at those around you, wishing you were them. As you walk the halls of your school, as you walk down the nearby street. You'll convince yourself that they have everything and that you have nothing; you want their smile, their body, their hair, their face, because to you, they are better, they are something you could never be, they're beautiful and you're nothi
HoudiniMy brother killed a cat today. There was a famous Chinese general who once said that you would truly discover a man through his torture. I have come to disagree. When are we more exposed than when we are in sorrow, ridden by guilt?Houdini3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
My brother killed a cat today. It was a little cat, a black one named Houdini with long fluffy hair and a sweet face. I'd heard of Houdini before when his owner pinned a note to our door when we were out asking if we would like to take him in. She had mistaken us for our neighbor, who has eleven cats. Her name was Holly and she sounded like she was between jobs.
My brother killed a cat today. It was a little cat, a black one named Houdini with long fluffy hair and a sweet face. He hit it with his car. It's a white 1997 Toyota, an Avalon. Our grandparents gave it to us in mint condition (practically), despite over 100,000 miles on the odometer. He put a NASA sticker on it and a sticker that says, "+5 Car of Driving." Before my brother got it, my dad had it fo
zero.5. I think I'm afraid of sex.zero.1 year ago in Emotional More Like This
It's terrifying that two people can fit together perfectly, without even really liking each other at all.
4. I'm afraid of the day I start replacing myself with somebody else in all of our pictures; of the day I'll see my reflection and wish I didn't have to.
3. I'm afraid of doctors, and medicine.
The first time I took lithium, I couldn't hold it down. So I locked the bathroom door and flushed the entire bottle.
The second time, I couldn't walk more than ten steps without falling.
Honestly, I'm just wondering why they use poison to purify me.
2. I'm afraid of the ocean.
I'm afraid of looking down one day, and not seeing the edges. Of there being nothing there.
I'm afraid of falling and having nothing to catch me.
There's already nobody. The ground is really all I have.
1. I'm afraid of breaking things.
Like, once, I broke my dad's trust in me.
Once I broke somebody's heart.
Once I broke my kindergarten teacher's favorite
Obsessive Compulsive DisorderWhen I was little, it use to amaze me how colors were made. In art class I would sit and mix paint because blue and red didn't stay the same when they fell in love. Every single color found its match and danced beautifully as I swirled them together. Black and white were my favorites. I'd pour the creamy paint into a bowl and watch as black and white swirls, turned into grey swirls and owned the container holding it captive. Grey was amazing to me. Because black and white are nothing alike, and grey is in the middle. Black is dark and scary and demanding. And white is graceful, and trusting, and clean. Grey is nothing. Grey is bland. And safe. Grey is careful. And I would do anything to be grey.Obsessive Compulsive Disorder3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
Friendship is black and turns to ash in my hands. It is dust, so hard to hold. I am keeping still so none escapes, but it feels like at any moment, the wind will kick up and steal it all away. Every move I make is monitored and judged. I am wary about my words and am second guessing everything.
Are you happy now?I tried my best to please them all…Are you happy now?11 months ago in Emotional More Like This
They said that I always looked too angry
So I shaved off my eyebrows
They said I always dressed bad
So I took off my clothes
They said I cried too much
So I burned out my eyes
They said I wasn't listening
So I tore off my ears
They said I always said the wrong things
So I ripped out my vocal cords
They said I always faked my smile
So I ripped off my lips
They said my hair was a mess
So I cut it off
They said my feet were too big
So I broke them
They said I walked weird
So I saw off my legs
They said I played too much with my fingers
So I pulled off my hands
They said my arms were too thin
So I tore them off
They said my belly looked funny
So I cut out my stomach
They said I sat funny
So I removed my hips
They said I breathe too loud
So I ripped out my lungs
They said I always hung with my head
So I tore it off
They said my skin tone was ugly
So I removed my skin
They said my muscles were weak
So I ripped them off the bones
They said my bon
She is...Her hands are not flawless anymore. Her nails not manicured and perfect in polish.She is...2 years ago in Emotional More Like This
They are worn, and a little wrinkled with cuticles that seem tired and old. Her nails are cut perfectly, but no polish or manicure grace them.
Her hair no longer falls in curled perfect ringlets of thick wavy strands... They are now mostly tied up carelessly, held in a clasp.
Her lips now wear an all day moisturizing gloss instead of that creamy lipstick that smelled like sun ripened fruit.
Her curves are fuller and her body seems to have grown to adjust for providing comfort and care... and not to tempt.
But her eyes still wear that sparkle... and they are livelier than ever. Her laughter rings out like peals of silver bells and fills up the house, overflowing, till it spills out of the doors and windows and lets the sunshine in.
She may not be the girl I brought home, years ago.... but she is the woman who stayed by my side, through hail and sun, as perfect smiles got replaced by visits to the dentist.
no wonder it took him 1455 pageswhen i was seven years old, a group of kids in my grade threw rocks at me for liking neopets more than webkinz. from then on, i was convinced i knew what hatred meant. but i don’t know how to describe it to the little girl who sits in the corner of my womb and in ten years might call me mommy and ask for help on dividing the world into black and white.no wonder it took him 1455 pages10 months ago in Emotional More Like This
would i point to the churches with their bigotry? to the cotton fields of the south in the 1800s? to the classrooms of modern day america? would i tell her about how the jews stood in straight lines, waiting to die, with fear in their eyes and faith in their hearts? or would i try and describe the sound tyler clementi’s body made when it hit the water of the hudson river after he jumped from the george washington bridge?
would i point to myself and say, “i am hatred, i am hatred to others. i am lying and cheating and stealing and coveting and jealousy and hubris. i am the idea of every time someone wants to kill someone
100 ONE DIRECTION FACTS AND QUOTES1. Harry has type B blood (yes, our fandom is crazy, we find out everything)100 ONE DIRECTION FACTS AND QUOTES1 year ago in Emotional More Like This
2. Niall's favorite restaurant is Nando's
3. Louis likes girls who eat carrots (you knew that was coming)
4. The boys made history when they became the first UK artist to debut at #1 on the US charts with their hit single "What Makes You Beautiful"
5. One Direction was formed on July 23, 2010 at 8:22pm
6. Zayn risked elimination on X Factor because he didn't want people to see him dance
7. Niall loves to eat. A lot.
8. Harry completely got pranked by Louis and Zayn when they had an actress pretend she was giving birth. But it just proves he's the most perfect person alive
9. Harry's worst habit is getting naked all the time
10. Zayn has mirrors all the way around his shower
11. Harry likes cats
12. "Vas happenin'?" ~Zayn Malik
13. Harry's birthday is February 1, 1994
14. Louis Walsh said no to Harry at his X Factor audition
15. Zayn's X Factor audition song was "Let Me Love You"
16. Liam initially auditioned f
Happy BirthdayWhen I breathe into the empty blue morning, my breath fogs up in the too-cold-for-this-time-of-year air and I wish I could pull it back into me. I'm not quite awake and not quite asleep, but I'm conscious of the day and the time and the rain that prickles my face through the open screen window. I wish you a quiet happy birthday under my breath because I might have lost the right to make you happy, but I'll still wish it forever.Happy Birthday3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
Your name on my lips hurts and it's a struggle to move the air past my vocal cords in a way that will actually produce sound instead of a whisper. I keep you so close to my heart that every time it beats it touches you and pulls at that small, perfect piece I've so carefully preserved which is really all I have left of you.
Every exhalation is a prayer and a thread of your memory gone. And it's time that tugs at the seams and makes the exact shade of your eyes blur and slide out of focus, but that might be the tears, actually. The salt makes the skin of my chee
The Galaxy Sings in B FlatThe galaxy sings in B flat.The Galaxy Sings in B Flat4 years ago in Emotional More Like This
Fifty-seven octaves below middle C, hundreds of thousands of tiny stars with little worlds trailing atmospheres in elliptical orbits. Double-star systems, triple-star, more; planets, civilisations, dark matter, tangible matter, all circling, swarming, humming together in one enormous note, not bumping together but carrying a wave from the centre of their island universe, expanding out into space
Sound cannot exist in a vacuum. This is a widely known fact. And space is a vacuum, sure. But only when you look at it from here, from our tiny little world. Close your eyes, zoom out, and look at the celestial spheres from their view; and space isn't so thin after all. Close your eyes, zoom in, and even our dense atmosphere is just atoms in a vacuum of their own. Sound as we know it, sure, that doesn't exist outside our little stardust orb. It's too small, too fragil
Tragic BeautyI remember lying in my hospital bed at the physical rehabilitation facility, far too many years ago, staring at a picture of a little girl. Someone had brought it in for me, though I didn't remember who or why. In the picture she was wearing shorts, and leaning to feed bread to the ducks gathered around her. I stared at the little girl's legs and cried. She was beautiful.Tragic Beauty2 years ago in Emotional More Like This
"I broke you," I whispered to her. "I'm so sorry I broke you. I never meant to. Please, forgive me." And she did, of course. But I'm not sure if that made it better or worse.
There was a poet staying in the room next to me. He was a brain trauma patient, unlike me. For some reason they'd moved me out of the spinal cord injury section of the hospital and into brain trauma. I never actually met the man, and yet some days I can't stop thinking about him. My mother brought me a book of his poems, a little pamphlet made of thick, sturdy paper. She said she thought I would like them. And I did. They were so hopef
Happy BirthdayThis is not a poem.Happy Birthday3 months ago in Emotional More Like This
It's not even a story.
This is a simple observation.
Today I was on Facebook, a dangerously common occurrence for me. Borderline addiction, possibly. I looked to the right column where events and birthdays are posted, and noticed it was a friend's birthday. And I hesitated in saying anything.
I hesitated to say happy birthday to a friend. Why?
Was it because we only had one community college class together a couple of years ago, so our friendship is little more than a past acquaintance that hasn't yet ceased to exist on a social media site?
Was it because I didn't have the time to type out those two simple words, perhaps even a dot of punctuation if I'm splurging on free time? The answer to this question is no, because even though I have a quiz tomorrow and two midterms next week, I was clearly distracted on Facebook nonetheless. Besides, I'm typing this now, and it's quite more extensive than a happy birthday.
Was it because I thought it would be awkward if he got
Remember?I remember that night you pulled him off of meRemember?3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
I thought maybe I'd never seen anything
As beautiful as you
Just the way you moved
All furious and lovely and wild
I remember the way his blood speckled the carpet
And there were lights flashing
Red and blue and blinding
Casting stark shadows against the snow
And you were barefoot
They had to restrain you
When they arrested him
You'd already broken his wrist
But I think you wanted to kill him
I think they thought that, too
I remember kissing your knuckles
Because he'd split your lip
And I couldn't kiss you on the mouth
We took you to the hospital afterward
And they stitched you up
You fell asleep on my shoulder on the car ride back
I kissed the top of your head
And I told you I loved you
But before you nodded off
Do you remember?
You made me promise
Promise me, baby girl,
That I wouldn't leave your side
Stay with me
You said you'd keep me safe
queen of nothing.what I've learned:queen of nothing.1 year ago in Emotional More Like This
I still remember singing in my room when I was six, and having my mother come down the hall and slam the door so hard that the windows shook.
Her nails hurt when she scraped the tears off my face. "It doesn't matter what you want," she'd always tell me.
Like, when that drunk driver swerved and hit her car I didn't want her to leave me, and it didn't matter.
Once on vacation I bought a pair of fuzzy leather heels for two hundred dollars, and when I wore them to dinner, I found out that
1. "Suede" is a fancy word for "fuzzy leather."
And 2. Good things don't last: That night my cousin told me that she thought 135 pounds was a little too big for five foot eight. So I tore my tights up to the thigh and threw those new suede heels in the garbage.
It felt good later, to know that they couldn't hate me more than I hate myself.
My six-word story from ninth grade reads, "If I don't laugh, I'll cry."
When I read that treating people like trash to gets them to nee
I Was Her CoffinI'm sitting on this battered roof, chain-smoking Marlboros and talking to the moon. There is a fiery breeze twirling my skirt, but all I see is a little girl tugging at the hem, mutedly screaming the word "Mommy". But I couldn't be her mommy, because she is dead.I Was Her Coffin4 years ago in Emotional More Like This
I'm tempted to take off my skirt-to let it feather down and cover this parched city.
I still have 13 cigarettes and I won't give up until the taste of you retreats from my lungs. I'm thinking that maybe I can smother it, maybe it will just surrender. As long as it's still present, I can't hate you- I can't hate you for what you did to me.
And somehow I know it would have been a girl. She'd be exactly 3 years old today if she'd been born. That's old enough to teach her how to count to ten, to learn new "bigger" words. Old enough to understand a poem I would have written for her-about how wonderful she is to me.
But she is not here and I am barren. My hand is always on my stomache now, and sometimes I think I feel her
In the shoes of an AspieIn the Shoes of an AspieIn the shoes of an Aspie2 years ago in Emotional More Like This
Note: This is my experiences and thoughts on what it is like to be an Aspie. I understand others have their own experiences and opinions and I respect them for that. The reason I wrote this was a hope that those who read this gain some understanding as to how people with Asperger's live their lives. However each person is unique so their behaviour and way of life may be different to mine.
I wake to the sound of my alarm going off. I groan Ugh not again... I grope for my mobile and switch it off; the alarm is rather noisy. Here I go again; having to put on that masquerade; going undercover yet again. If only people would just understand what it is like to live the way I and many others like me have to live each and every day ..
Just imagine yourself living in a world where you see and deal with everything differently. Put yourself in the shoes of an Aspie; a person with Asperger's Syndrome. It's a high-functioning form of Autism. It's hard to
The Symptoms of SuicideHow can you tell when someone wants to die?The Symptoms of Suicide3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
Are there physical signs for people who have given up on life, like symptoms of some terminal disease?
Maybe you can see it in their eyes, that ashy grey colour that indicates the total absence of any form of hope.
Maybe you can smell it on them; a sour, despondent smell, similar to the stench of turned milk.
Perhaps you can hear it in their voice, the lack of electricity, the lack of life.
A dead voice.
The voice of a suicidal person should sound like a note played on a harpsichord. Tinny, listless, flat. An unpleasant noise that makes your skin crawl. Nails on a chalkboard.
But maybe there aren't any signs.
Maybe the nicest boy in class is the same boy who gets abused by his step dad every day after school.
Maybe the girl with the infectious laugh is the same girl who is too afraid to tell anybody that she got raped because she still blames herself.
Maybe the boy who does charity work for homeless people is the same boy who cries himself to
sadstuck: wahts it to u?sadstuck: wahts it to u?2 years ago in Emotional More Like This
"And finally... an olive. Hehe." Drink complete, Lalonde sat at her computer, and took a delicate sip of her concoction. Stared at her screen. ...and frowned. Opening a pester window, she began talking to Jane.
- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] began bothering gutsyGumshoe [GG] -
TG: ehy jaaane
TG: fcuk *HEY
GG: Hoo hoo, hello Lalonde! :B At it already, I see?
TG: yeah booooi. u know i totes gotta get my drikn on p early to get anythign done. hows my wodnerful baking lady tonight
GG: Still trying to find that dang bunny! L'il Seb is proving to be quite a bother!
TG: well youll fidn him. ur good at that
GG: Hoo hoo! I sure hope so. I'd like to find him before my dad does, at least! :B
TG: how is that big sexy man doign anyway
GG: Oh, Lalonde! You hush. He's still being the ever-diligent prison guard. He's got this house locked up tighter than a tub of new frosting!
TG: mmmmmmmmmmmmmm funfetit i hope
GG: More like un-funfetti! Hoo hoo!
TG: yeha well i dotn kno