When I sleep, and dream, nothing matters.
Once before, after heartbreak I had terrible nightmares, but it seems they made me stronger and now sleep is only an escape.
I can sleep for ages, and almost anywhere.
When I wake up, reality is harsh..
Charlemagne could be an escape from the bad,
I think I rebel too much, because I can.
Maybe for once I need someone to keep 'me' good.
I wonder what would happen if I did..
1/31/2010
Why am I like this?
Buggeration. I can't lose my Shumba for my love of Giacomo.
I spoke to him last night, and learnt a few points.
He cannot love properly.
He loves only his Father truely
and me? He doesn't know.. I'm different. Special. He loves me and yet refuses to explain.
He hates himself, he thinks he is worthless, and wants to fade.
Because of his hatred, he purposely wants people to hate him and hurt him.
I love my Shumba.
And anyone who looks at us would see it easily.
I'd do about anything for Shumba,
but I've never felt Shumba has trusted me or opened up as they could.
Shumba has always always been a mystery to me,
sometimes I feel like I'm not there, or I'm just annoying.
Anyone I love, I wish for Shumba to approve of.
Of everyone I've met, of few do I understand so well, and few have I seen with such beautiful a nature,
Giacomo has buried the beauty of his nature down,
Of everyone, I thought I could bring that back out in him,
And for a nature so beautiful, the cost of doing so should be worth it,
I don't mind hurt it would inflict upon me,
When someone has no faith in themselves, thinks they are nothing special, not worthy of anything,
if you knew different, if you could make them see...
Wouldn't you show them otherwise?
Love them unconditionally, and believe in them no matter what.
It always comes back to Shumba and my Pride.
I love them, and I can't lose them.
Giacomo is and always will be a part of my pride, in that I will always watch over him,
and any other in my pride who was lost and hurt, I would follow just the same.
They think I don't love them but I do,
They have no idea what I'd do if I lost them,
But I can't stop doing what is in my nature,
What I believe in.
Sometimes I wish I could let go, for it'd be easier, to abandon one, and let them find their own lessons,
but I'm not like that, I can't abandon Giacomo.
I spoke to him last night, and learnt a few points.
He cannot love properly.
He loves only his Father truely
and me? He doesn't know.. I'm different. Special. He loves me and yet refuses to explain.
He hates himself, he thinks he is worthless, and wants to fade.
Because of his hatred, he purposely wants people to hate him and hurt him.
I love my Shumba.
And anyone who looks at us would see it easily.
I'd do about anything for Shumba,
but I've never felt Shumba has trusted me or opened up as they could.
Shumba has always always been a mystery to me,
sometimes I feel like I'm not there, or I'm just annoying.
Anyone I love, I wish for Shumba to approve of.
Of everyone I've met, of few do I understand so well, and few have I seen with such beautiful a nature,
Giacomo has buried the beauty of his nature down,
Of everyone, I thought I could bring that back out in him,
And for a nature so beautiful, the cost of doing so should be worth it,
I don't mind hurt it would inflict upon me,
When someone has no faith in themselves, thinks they are nothing special, not worthy of anything,
if you knew different, if you could make them see...
Wouldn't you show them otherwise?
Love them unconditionally, and believe in them no matter what.
It always comes back to Shumba and my Pride.
I love them, and I can't lose them.
Giacomo is and always will be a part of my pride, in that I will always watch over him,
and any other in my pride who was lost and hurt, I would follow just the same.
They think I don't love them but I do,
They have no idea what I'd do if I lost them,
But I can't stop doing what is in my nature,
What I believe in.
Sometimes I wish I could let go, for it'd be easier, to abandon one, and let them find their own lessons,
but I'm not like that, I can't abandon Giacomo.
1/30/2010
In love with a thug.
My oldest half sister married a thugish man. Mr Bowpitt.
He beat her, but she was too afraid to leave him. For her daughters sake too, my almost-sister, Claire. Because her Father had sexually abused his daughter from his last marriage.
So my Dad hired a van, drove round and picked up them and their stuff.
He took them to a hotel then came back home.
He came looking for them at my Dad's house, Daddy told him to go before the police came.
Daddy helped them settle into their own house.
That night two thugs came into a bar and said,
'Hey, your name Bowpitt?'
'Yeah,'
'Come here, got something for you'
They beat him to a pulp outside.
Never come back to Biggleswade, or we'll kill you.
People will do so much for a bottle of whiskey.
He beat her, but she was too afraid to leave him. For her daughters sake too, my almost-sister, Claire. Because her Father had sexually abused his daughter from his last marriage.
So my Dad hired a van, drove round and picked up them and their stuff.
He took them to a hotel then came back home.
He came looking for them at my Dad's house, Daddy told him to go before the police came.
Daddy helped them settle into their own house.
That night two thugs came into a bar and said,
'Hey, your name Bowpitt?'
'Yeah,'
'Come here, got something for you'
They beat him to a pulp outside.
Never come back to Biggleswade, or we'll kill you.
People will do so much for a bottle of whiskey.
:/
I think something that saddens me more than anything is just how much I love my father, and yet how we are so distant now.
He's getting old. I'm his 5th daughter, and I can see him weakening from how I first remember him.
I'm so afraid he'll die, I don't know how I'd cope. The mere thought breaks me down.
More than my Granny Mary, more than my brother, Nui.
I love George Brian Leslie so much. He's my idol, my hero. Everything I look up to, all that i've learnt, about how to be, I'm never ashamed to say I love him,
but it isnt as plain as it used to be,
We used to have such conversations, about the Darwin awards, the animal kingdom, quantum physics, chemistry, cloning, genetics, politics, history, everything.
He took me to so many countries, and taught me about every one, he sat me on his shoulders until I was 7.
I've seen the world with that man.
Now I love drama, and boys, and tea, and gossip. Things he doesn't like. I don't know how to open up anymore. It's like I don't have the time for chess games and science, I wish I did.
I miss him, and I think it's my own fault. But its just growing up...
I can't talk to him about love... He think's its foolish, but its all I believe.
I don't want him to die, and to have wasted this time I have, when he's here.
I want to protect him so much.
His life is 100 times more amazing than mine.
He's a genius. He was in Mensa. He published his first scientific paper in (I forget the name) but in this particular magazine, its hard to publish you first paper. If you do, youre likely to be on the way to a nobel prize. He published his first two in it.
He was good friends with Knights and other nobel prize winners. He was a well respected scientist, and wrote two books.
He's funny. He's the head of our family. He's always told jokes and stories. He's always defended his family.
He's my Daddy.
He's getting old. I'm his 5th daughter, and I can see him weakening from how I first remember him.
I'm so afraid he'll die, I don't know how I'd cope. The mere thought breaks me down.
More than my Granny Mary, more than my brother, Nui.
I love George Brian Leslie so much. He's my idol, my hero. Everything I look up to, all that i've learnt, about how to be, I'm never ashamed to say I love him,
but it isnt as plain as it used to be,
We used to have such conversations, about the Darwin awards, the animal kingdom, quantum physics, chemistry, cloning, genetics, politics, history, everything.
He took me to so many countries, and taught me about every one, he sat me on his shoulders until I was 7.
I've seen the world with that man.
Now I love drama, and boys, and tea, and gossip. Things he doesn't like. I don't know how to open up anymore. It's like I don't have the time for chess games and science, I wish I did.
I miss him, and I think it's my own fault. But its just growing up...
I can't talk to him about love... He think's its foolish, but its all I believe.
I don't want him to die, and to have wasted this time I have, when he's here.
I want to protect him so much.
His life is 100 times more amazing than mine.
He's a genius. He was in Mensa. He published his first scientific paper in (I forget the name) but in this particular magazine, its hard to publish you first paper. If you do, youre likely to be on the way to a nobel prize. He published his first two in it.
He was good friends with Knights and other nobel prize winners. He was a well respected scientist, and wrote two books.
He's funny. He's the head of our family. He's always told jokes and stories. He's always defended his family.
He's my Daddy.
The Tale of Giacomo.
I know I can't tell it like he does (I don't know him half as well), his story wasn't linked with mine, but for the story, that continues, we are intwined.
This is how I see it from my eyes.
(Yeah, I know you all know who it is anyway.)
One day, a long time after a heartbreak, I left the cinema from watching a film, happily surprised. We decided to sit down, and we met three boys. I was afraid to speak, for I was shy and untrusting. Especially at Giacomo. He was beautiful, like the statue of a Lion. I was too afraid to touch it. He looked so real, if he came alive, he'd strike me dead. Attractive people I do not trust, at first.
I left, and he became real, and genuine.
I found that my heart was willing to open at any affection. My trust came slower, but surely.
I thought (from my instincts, ever trustworthy) he was a player. I was right. But I wanted that Lion, and with my head, and my heart focused on having that Lion. I pursued.
He escaped quickly, but my Lion came back.
Paladin, loved me greatly at this point, the real genuine love I trusted, and yet, he told me too late. He told me when the Lion had come back.
What is the love of a man, to the beauty of a Lion?
The part of me that wanted to be free, leave the hard memories, followed Giacomo.
This hurt Paladin, to see me run with a Lion. I thought he wouldn't be able to bear it, and I'd lose my great friendship.
Giacomo was not all beauty. Yes the lights draw me, but I always empathise with the person, and the beast. Once I know them, I love all.
Perhaps my open love, spurred some reciprocation, perhaps the challenge of Paladin, or both.
It was about now I began to see a part of Giacomo's story.
There was sadness in his life, and suicidal thoughts. Bullies of his weight. His parents being perhaps too hard on him. A craving for love and acceptance, that I would always oblige.
I had faith in him, and it seemed enough to stop him.
I went away for a while, back to my other world. I missed Giacomo, but apparently it was too great for him to be away from me. Maybe that was a lie or an excuse. He wasn't my Lion then.
Upon my return, Paladin was waiting, with open arms and promises of everything I've ever wanted. So if I didn't have my Lion, which I was proud of, and loved, regardless of risk. I had real love.
Those days I was happy, being read stories and romance and such, but I was in love with the idea of Paladin, and not what he was. What he was is my friend, and I will always love him as such.
Giacomo seemed hurt by me and Paladin. Paladin only mocked Giacomo for it, to me.
Giacomo still spoke to me, and Paladin only told me how to make him 'love me' ..
I had been invited into Paladin's home, and was welcomed, but I felt so out of place, it wasn't right. I didn't belong here. I didn't connect with any of them. I hid behind Paladin.
Giacomo threatened me, he said he would have me, and I wanted it, I just didn't know it. And what no one knows, but what captured me was when he said 'You're mine, Cara.' And it was all, he was my Caro, and I was almost certainly his. Hearing it from him, Paladin shook in anger. Rage. But I told Paladin, Giacomo never would.
Yet I looked for him the next day anyways, and I found him.
He tried to convince me into sleeping with him, and golly gosh I'm a loyal beast, I hit that boy hard, to show my disapproval. But how can you keep hitting a Lion so beautiful? In a moment, I forgot myself, and unlike it was with Paladin, it felt right. Like I belonged.
The day after still, I saw Paladin, and I only craved my Lion, this proved that Giacomo was right.
I would have told Paladin that night, things could fall into place, but Giacomo appeared.
He hurt my Paladin, and Paladin ran away. From more than one kind of pain.
That night when he knew what I had done, he stopped talking and has never spoken since, despite my efforts, he hates me, and I will always love him.
Then began a time where I learnt about Giacomo, his parents chess game with Giacomo as the pawn.
Bullies, gangs, drugs to escape his pain, and violence.
Yet it seemed I could always protect him from it with belief and love
I was happy. I think it was a good time, with little friction.
Memories flicker, but the worst thing of all is, he's gone, and now I must retain my memories, even if its harder to recover, I can't forget.
I think it was my fault. I was foolish to think I could love a Lion and keep it.
He runs further away everyday.
Escaping in any outlet. From his pain, from being alone, and pushing everyone away, because people are afraid to love Lions, they don't understand them, they fear them, they hate them,
I'll say less on this part, but,
I believe in my Lion, they are brave and strong, more than they realise.
If the Lion knew his own strength, no man could stop him.
Giacomo is better than people realise, secret things I see..
Writing, poetry, art, reading, a beautiful nature
and a capacity for love,
Only weighed down by misfortune and poor judgement
I've said too much.
This is how I see it from my eyes.
(Yeah, I know you all know who it is anyway.)
One day, a long time after a heartbreak, I left the cinema from watching a film, happily surprised. We decided to sit down, and we met three boys. I was afraid to speak, for I was shy and untrusting. Especially at Giacomo. He was beautiful, like the statue of a Lion. I was too afraid to touch it. He looked so real, if he came alive, he'd strike me dead. Attractive people I do not trust, at first.
I left, and he became real, and genuine.
I found that my heart was willing to open at any affection. My trust came slower, but surely.
I thought (from my instincts, ever trustworthy) he was a player. I was right. But I wanted that Lion, and with my head, and my heart focused on having that Lion. I pursued.
He escaped quickly, but my Lion came back.
Paladin, loved me greatly at this point, the real genuine love I trusted, and yet, he told me too late. He told me when the Lion had come back.
What is the love of a man, to the beauty of a Lion?
The part of me that wanted to be free, leave the hard memories, followed Giacomo.
This hurt Paladin, to see me run with a Lion. I thought he wouldn't be able to bear it, and I'd lose my great friendship.
Giacomo was not all beauty. Yes the lights draw me, but I always empathise with the person, and the beast. Once I know them, I love all.
Perhaps my open love, spurred some reciprocation, perhaps the challenge of Paladin, or both.
It was about now I began to see a part of Giacomo's story.
There was sadness in his life, and suicidal thoughts. Bullies of his weight. His parents being perhaps too hard on him. A craving for love and acceptance, that I would always oblige.
I had faith in him, and it seemed enough to stop him.
I went away for a while, back to my other world. I missed Giacomo, but apparently it was too great for him to be away from me. Maybe that was a lie or an excuse. He wasn't my Lion then.
Upon my return, Paladin was waiting, with open arms and promises of everything I've ever wanted. So if I didn't have my Lion, which I was proud of, and loved, regardless of risk. I had real love.
Those days I was happy, being read stories and romance and such, but I was in love with the idea of Paladin, and not what he was. What he was is my friend, and I will always love him as such.
Giacomo seemed hurt by me and Paladin. Paladin only mocked Giacomo for it, to me.
Giacomo still spoke to me, and Paladin only told me how to make him 'love me' ..
I had been invited into Paladin's home, and was welcomed, but I felt so out of place, it wasn't right. I didn't belong here. I didn't connect with any of them. I hid behind Paladin.
Giacomo threatened me, he said he would have me, and I wanted it, I just didn't know it. And what no one knows, but what captured me was when he said 'You're mine, Cara.' And it was all, he was my Caro, and I was almost certainly his. Hearing it from him, Paladin shook in anger. Rage. But I told Paladin, Giacomo never would.
Yet I looked for him the next day anyways, and I found him.
He tried to convince me into sleeping with him, and golly gosh I'm a loyal beast, I hit that boy hard, to show my disapproval. But how can you keep hitting a Lion so beautiful? In a moment, I forgot myself, and unlike it was with Paladin, it felt right. Like I belonged.
The day after still, I saw Paladin, and I only craved my Lion, this proved that Giacomo was right.
I would have told Paladin that night, things could fall into place, but Giacomo appeared.
He hurt my Paladin, and Paladin ran away. From more than one kind of pain.
That night when he knew what I had done, he stopped talking and has never spoken since, despite my efforts, he hates me, and I will always love him.
Then began a time where I learnt about Giacomo, his parents chess game with Giacomo as the pawn.
Bullies, gangs, drugs to escape his pain, and violence.
Yet it seemed I could always protect him from it with belief and love
I was happy. I think it was a good time, with little friction.
Memories flicker, but the worst thing of all is, he's gone, and now I must retain my memories, even if its harder to recover, I can't forget.
I think it was my fault. I was foolish to think I could love a Lion and keep it.
He runs further away everyday.
Escaping in any outlet. From his pain, from being alone, and pushing everyone away, because people are afraid to love Lions, they don't understand them, they fear them, they hate them,
I'll say less on this part, but,
I believe in my Lion, they are brave and strong, more than they realise.
If the Lion knew his own strength, no man could stop him.
Giacomo is better than people realise, secret things I see..
Writing, poetry, art, reading, a beautiful nature
and a capacity for love,
Only weighed down by misfortune and poor judgement
I've said too much.
1/29/2010
It's the nice ones you have to look out for.
So people say I'm nice, and I empathise with all people, and I'm too nice to people for my own good, and I'm going to be used for it.
But when I'm nasty I'm actually shamefully horrible.
When I verbally abuse, I don't just call names, I use peoples deepest insecurities against them.
I'm too violent physically if it comes to it.
:/
Most of the time I'm too nice for my own good, so hakuna matata :D
But when I'm nasty I'm actually shamefully horrible.
When I verbally abuse, I don't just call names, I use peoples deepest insecurities against them.
I'm too violent physically if it comes to it.
:/
Most of the time I'm too nice for my own good, so hakuna matata :D
A pack of dogs.
Sometimes you see human behavior that shocks you, the ferocity they're capable of, the joy in inflicting pain, on both sides.
It's savage. There is a brilliance in it, but its warfare, and it hurts when you're inbetween.
I know I'm capable of it too.
It's savage. There is a brilliance in it, but its warfare, and it hurts when you're inbetween.
I know I'm capable of it too.
Instincts and Intuition
I'ma girl. We have feminine intuition. We can figure out things so simply when boys just get confuzzled.
I don't think many girls even realise they can.
Something everyone has are their instincts. When you first meet someone, you get a vibe. You may be mistaken if you don't see every angle. But when you feel with your instincts, for a simple thing like 'Are they trustworthy?' You're often right.
Love feels real, and its real in the sense you feel it, but it is an illusion.
Your heart tells you what you love, to follow your love
Your brain weighs up your options, whats logical. Good or bad?
Then your instincts, your beast, does what is natural. It is the only solid truth.
I don't think many girls even realise they can.
Something everyone has are their instincts. When you first meet someone, you get a vibe. You may be mistaken if you don't see every angle. But when you feel with your instincts, for a simple thing like 'Are they trustworthy?' You're often right.
Love feels real, and its real in the sense you feel it, but it is an illusion.
Your heart tells you what you love, to follow your love
Your brain weighs up your options, whats logical. Good or bad?
Then your instincts, your beast, does what is natural. It is the only solid truth.
Ho hum..
What does it take for a relationship to last these days?
Fidelis ad mortem. The latin for, Faithful unto death.
Fidelis ad mortem. The latin for, Faithful unto death.
Snobs and hypocrites.
Yeah my parents grew up poor. My mum grew up in a third world country on a rice farm. My dad grew up during WW2 in a small flat.
My mum was one of thirteen children, seven survived infancy.
My aunt once said to me,
'I had a twin you know'
'Really, where is she?'
'She died when we were little, because I WAS STRONGER' :D
...I laughed.
They lived raising waterbuffalo, and cultivating rice. They had lots of hard work on the farm on top of school, they lived in the house my grandparents built themselves.
My father grew up in a war, and he was used to death. He'd help clear up the streets by picking up arms (legs were too heavy for him at his age) It was common to go to school in the morning, sit during register, have John's name called out and someone to say,
'Oh, he died last night. Blown to bits'
The class would carry on as usual.
Once my dad was in his Aunt's house during an air raid. There was no time to go to shelter, so his aunt quickly hauled the sofa over, and threw him underneath, before climbing in after. A bomb went off outside the house and smashed open the windows. Shards of glass were embedded in the sofa when they emerged. He could have died that day.
He said it didn't bother him, because he was born into war. This was normality.
Daddy worked hard to earn our money, being intelligent, almost a genius. A successful toxicologist.
Growing up on the rice farm with Nui and Moi, it made me one of them. I've had the most fun in my life, being poorer than most people have ever known.
Anyway, they taught me not to look down on people with shallower pockets, cause they're just like me.
So I always loved anyone regardless of anything. Colour or background. And I was disgusted with anyone else who did.
Then I realised, that some people, who aren't as well off, automatically hate people who are. Fair enough, but it just seems.. weird?
Maybe they resent that they don't have as much, and that some people can be snobs, and you can stereotype that..
Whatever the reason, money doesn't matter to me, as long as I'm happy. Material objects don't have as much value as people who you love, and people who love you.
My mum was one of thirteen children, seven survived infancy.
My aunt once said to me,
'I had a twin you know'
'Really, where is she?'
'She died when we were little, because I WAS STRONGER' :D
...I laughed.
They lived raising waterbuffalo, and cultivating rice. They had lots of hard work on the farm on top of school, they lived in the house my grandparents built themselves.
My father grew up in a war, and he was used to death. He'd help clear up the streets by picking up arms (legs were too heavy for him at his age) It was common to go to school in the morning, sit during register, have John's name called out and someone to say,
'Oh, he died last night. Blown to bits'
The class would carry on as usual.
Once my dad was in his Aunt's house during an air raid. There was no time to go to shelter, so his aunt quickly hauled the sofa over, and threw him underneath, before climbing in after. A bomb went off outside the house and smashed open the windows. Shards of glass were embedded in the sofa when they emerged. He could have died that day.
He said it didn't bother him, because he was born into war. This was normality.
Daddy worked hard to earn our money, being intelligent, almost a genius. A successful toxicologist.
Growing up on the rice farm with Nui and Moi, it made me one of them. I've had the most fun in my life, being poorer than most people have ever known.
Anyway, they taught me not to look down on people with shallower pockets, cause they're just like me.
So I always loved anyone regardless of anything. Colour or background. And I was disgusted with anyone else who did.
Then I realised, that some people, who aren't as well off, automatically hate people who are. Fair enough, but it just seems.. weird?
Maybe they resent that they don't have as much, and that some people can be snobs, and you can stereotype that..
Whatever the reason, money doesn't matter to me, as long as I'm happy. Material objects don't have as much value as people who you love, and people who love you.
Some people,
Some people may not be your 'type' or even attractive to you, and yet there is something about them you can't figure out that draws you close, that automatically gains your trust, even your love.
Razor (a moniker for writing purposes) is unfathomable. For one I'm inexplicably trusting to him and like him, and also I can never figure facial expressions. Yes, he smiles and thats about it. He is brilliant at being expressionless, looking at you and it could mean anything. And I mean 'anything'
I dislike not being to understand people :)
Anyone who understands me, and sees right through me, I like.
Anyone who hasn't a clue, amuses me.
Anyone who likes me either way, I like.
Razor (a moniker for writing purposes) is unfathomable. For one I'm inexplicably trusting to him and like him, and also I can never figure facial expressions. Yes, he smiles and thats about it. He is brilliant at being expressionless, looking at you and it could mean anything. And I mean 'anything'
I dislike not being to understand people :)
Anyone who understands me, and sees right through me, I like.
Anyone who hasn't a clue, amuses me.
Anyone who likes me either way, I like.
Love is a knife..
It cuts deep into the flesh, and you get lost in the feeling. When the knife is lifted, it leaves a line. It heals, it always heals, some cuts just take longer to do so, yet you'll still see the mark it leaves behind, hidden partially under your skin. It doesn't fade, you're just not looking hard enough. Difference with love and a knife? Not much. One gives pleasure aswell as pain.
I might aswell admit, I'm addicted to love.
Sometimes I think, yeah I'm happy :)
But there is always love drawing me ever closer, the benefits of love always weigh out being alone, or hating. Regardless of hurt it may bring, just wear your heart on your sleeve.
Doesnt matter if you stand up for people when they're alone, it doesnt make them care.
Even if you prove yourself right, it can't give you what you crave.
Though I wouldn't say it to them, for fear of rejection. I love now as dark things are too be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul. A saved space. Cause I never stop believing in people.
But loving purely is worth it, the rewards from loving everyone and everything is always good, in the end.
I might aswell admit, I'm addicted to love.
Sometimes I think, yeah I'm happy :)
But there is always love drawing me ever closer, the benefits of love always weigh out being alone, or hating. Regardless of hurt it may bring, just wear your heart on your sleeve.
Doesnt matter if you stand up for people when they're alone, it doesnt make them care.
Even if you prove yourself right, it can't give you what you crave.
Though I wouldn't say it to them, for fear of rejection. I love now as dark things are too be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul. A saved space. Cause I never stop believing in people.
But loving purely is worth it, the rewards from loving everyone and everything is always good, in the end.
1/28/2010
Facial expression.
Some people can talk to others with only their eyes, it's either really funny to watch, or quite worrying. You may think their eyesbrows are having a spasm.
Everyone always seems to mistake my facial expressions -.-
Some people ask me if I'm okay, 'cause I look depressed. Gosh, THAT'S MY NORMAL FACE.
Some people say I look sadly at them, when actually I'm just thinking about something, deep in thought.
Other times people say I look at them like they're weird, or I'm disgusted by them - No. That's the face that means, 'You're so confusing, I wish I could figure you out. What do you mean?'
Am I the only one who gets this? x
Everyone always seems to mistake my facial expressions -.-
Some people ask me if I'm okay, 'cause I look depressed. Gosh, THAT'S MY NORMAL FACE.
Some people say I look sadly at them, when actually I'm just thinking about something, deep in thought.
Other times people say I look at them like they're weird, or I'm disgusted by them - No. That's the face that means, 'You're so confusing, I wish I could figure you out. What do you mean?'
Am I the only one who gets this? x
I love you, but the vibe is wrong.
Doesn't it hurt when someone you love starts mass murdering? Must do.
1/27/2010
Death :/
My brother died in a motorcycle, I wont go into details, because there isnt much to say, it was an accident, my brother was high, his friend was drunk. His friend was driving, but Nui died. The truck wasnt to blame.
Made me think - Wow, my brother has always been here for me, Nui was the one who held my hand, the one who kept me safe, and helped me. He's dead. It doesnt feel like it, but he's gone forever.
I cried, secretly. I didn't want my parents to think I cared. Especially not my father - He strongly disliked Nui.
Moi didnt seem too bothered by it..
I think the death that has most affected me in my life is my Granny,
I never knew her, I just inherited her name - Mary Leslie.
And yet I always felt I loved her. She was dying when I was born, so i was given her name, to make her happy.
And I'll be damned if I don't make her proud.
My Dad loved her I know, he never talks about love, but I know. When I was little and played with his marroon quilt pen, he would say 'Careful Mary, that was the last thing my mother gave to me before she died'
He told me stories about her.
When I was little, Mary. I had beautiful fine blonde hair, and we were very poor. A rich couple came up to my mother and asked if they could buy me, she refused. When they left, I said 'Why didn't you let them take me!?' And she cuffed me round the ear.
He smiled, and his eyes were bluer than I'd seen before.
My mother grew up in the late victorian age. She worked for a rich family washing the dishes, and one day she dropped a dish and it broke. They fired her with no pay for the last season, and told her to be out before they came home from a dinner party.
When they came back, they found every plate and dish in the house smashed, and the best cutlery stolen.
He chuckled out loud at telling this.
When your half sisters were little, the twins had a play on at school. I couldn't see it because I had to be at work, so your Grandmother said she'd go and watch. I ordered a taxi to take her there and back, but after the play the taxi never arrived. So in her old age with arthritis, she started to walk home, a good mile away. Luckily some neighbours saw her and picked her up. When I got home she told me what happened, and I called the taxi company in ire. They said they hadn't picked her up because they had an airport run and didn't bother with local runs. I got no refund.
So the next day the manager came to work to find that some bastard had superglued the locks shut of all his saloon mercedes, and the lock to the office. He had to break the glass of the office door to open it, and apparently severed an artery. Then break every window of every car. He must have lost a lot of money that day, with no car to drive with.
What a lot of trouble for buying one tube of superglue.
You don't spite my family.
Made me think - Wow, my brother has always been here for me, Nui was the one who held my hand, the one who kept me safe, and helped me. He's dead. It doesnt feel like it, but he's gone forever.
I cried, secretly. I didn't want my parents to think I cared. Especially not my father - He strongly disliked Nui.
Moi didnt seem too bothered by it..
I think the death that has most affected me in my life is my Granny,
I never knew her, I just inherited her name - Mary Leslie.
And yet I always felt I loved her. She was dying when I was born, so i was given her name, to make her happy.
And I'll be damned if I don't make her proud.
My Dad loved her I know, he never talks about love, but I know. When I was little and played with his marroon quilt pen, he would say 'Careful Mary, that was the last thing my mother gave to me before she died'
He told me stories about her.
When I was little, Mary. I had beautiful fine blonde hair, and we were very poor. A rich couple came up to my mother and asked if they could buy me, she refused. When they left, I said 'Why didn't you let them take me!?' And she cuffed me round the ear.
He smiled, and his eyes were bluer than I'd seen before.
My mother grew up in the late victorian age. She worked for a rich family washing the dishes, and one day she dropped a dish and it broke. They fired her with no pay for the last season, and told her to be out before they came home from a dinner party.
When they came back, they found every plate and dish in the house smashed, and the best cutlery stolen.
He chuckled out loud at telling this.
When your half sisters were little, the twins had a play on at school. I couldn't see it because I had to be at work, so your Grandmother said she'd go and watch. I ordered a taxi to take her there and back, but after the play the taxi never arrived. So in her old age with arthritis, she started to walk home, a good mile away. Luckily some neighbours saw her and picked her up. When I got home she told me what happened, and I called the taxi company in ire. They said they hadn't picked her up because they had an airport run and didn't bother with local runs. I got no refund.
So the next day the manager came to work to find that some bastard had superglued the locks shut of all his saloon mercedes, and the lock to the office. He had to break the glass of the office door to open it, and apparently severed an artery. Then break every window of every car. He must have lost a lot of money that day, with no car to drive with.
What a lot of trouble for buying one tube of superglue.
You don't spite my family.
How very British.
My Father's always been a great influence to my life. He is amazing, my idol and that is that.
He taught me his lessons, and told his anecdotes. He taught me my sense of humour.
At home I'd sit at his feet while he read on the old leather sofa. I'd do jigsaws or draw, or listen to the classical, or jazz music he played me. Mummy would join us when she'd done working.
I loved the tale of peter and the wolf and I always felt sleepy when I listened to it, and often just dozed off on the floor.
In winter we turned on the fireplace and me and mummy would warm our hands and think how lovely and warm it was in Thailand.
My parents rarely told me they loved me, if I said it to my Mother she would say 'I love you too, Darling' But my Dad always grunted in response. I knew he loved me, he just didn't know how to say it.
If i tried to hug my Mum, shed bump me gently and tell me to not be silly.
My parents never played with me, aside from the chess games where Daddy taught me to play, and the occasional monopoly when both parents were in the mood for a game.
So I drew things, I played in the garden, but it was no fun on my own, so I sat in the trees and thought about things or sang to myself on the swings. I created fun ideas in my mind, I dreamt things and talked to myself. I pretended my soft toys were alive (my Father being a toxicologist, went away to lecture a lot and always brought back toys or chocolate) The animal form of soft toys was familiar to the farm, but I hated dolls. I was afraid of them, I didnt see girls much, or talk to them, so the natural instinct is to fear them.
If I ever had a bad dream, about a doll attacking me, in my dream, my animals came to my rescue.
When they let me out of the house, I got lost in the forest, but I wasn't lost, I was exploring, like I did in the jungles.
My mum was young, too young. And she wanted to go clubbing, and Daddy always said 'Don't go, you can't leave Mary, can't you see she needs you?' And I loved Daddy for telling her, because he was right, and I always said to her 'Don't go'. It turns out, I never said that, she said I never once told her not to, or she wouldn't have. But apparently I wanted her to be happy, so when she asked if she could go, I just nodded, I didn't want to be any trouble. So I amused myself in my room.
When I went to school I was quiet, England was cold, and I made friends mostly with the boys. They were familiar, I felt safe with them, like I was back with my brothers.
I never made friends with girls before BHS, an all girls school.
Girls there were better, I wasn't afraid of them. I'm still growing there..
He taught me his lessons, and told his anecdotes. He taught me my sense of humour.
At home I'd sit at his feet while he read on the old leather sofa. I'd do jigsaws or draw, or listen to the classical, or jazz music he played me. Mummy would join us when she'd done working.
I loved the tale of peter and the wolf and I always felt sleepy when I listened to it, and often just dozed off on the floor.
In winter we turned on the fireplace and me and mummy would warm our hands and think how lovely and warm it was in Thailand.
My parents rarely told me they loved me, if I said it to my Mother she would say 'I love you too, Darling' But my Dad always grunted in response. I knew he loved me, he just didn't know how to say it.
If i tried to hug my Mum, shed bump me gently and tell me to not be silly.
My parents never played with me, aside from the chess games where Daddy taught me to play, and the occasional monopoly when both parents were in the mood for a game.
So I drew things, I played in the garden, but it was no fun on my own, so I sat in the trees and thought about things or sang to myself on the swings. I created fun ideas in my mind, I dreamt things and talked to myself. I pretended my soft toys were alive (my Father being a toxicologist, went away to lecture a lot and always brought back toys or chocolate) The animal form of soft toys was familiar to the farm, but I hated dolls. I was afraid of them, I didnt see girls much, or talk to them, so the natural instinct is to fear them.
If I ever had a bad dream, about a doll attacking me, in my dream, my animals came to my rescue.
When they let me out of the house, I got lost in the forest, but I wasn't lost, I was exploring, like I did in the jungles.
My mum was young, too young. And she wanted to go clubbing, and Daddy always said 'Don't go, you can't leave Mary, can't you see she needs you?' And I loved Daddy for telling her, because he was right, and I always said to her 'Don't go'. It turns out, I never said that, she said I never once told her not to, or she wouldn't have. But apparently I wanted her to be happy, so when she asked if she could go, I just nodded, I didn't want to be any trouble. So I amused myself in my room.
When I went to school I was quiet, England was cold, and I made friends mostly with the boys. They were familiar, I felt safe with them, like I was back with my brothers.
I never made friends with girls before BHS, an all girls school.
Girls there were better, I wasn't afraid of them. I'm still growing there..
Water lillies.
A half child of two worlds. Growing up is amazing, you see more angles than you ever would have before, you're accepted by both sides.
You're balanced.
I remember walking along rice paddies, on my grandfathers farm. He would herd buffalo on one side, and grow rice on the other. The paddies are in grids, you walk along the crossed lines, and in the squares between the lines, you flood and grow the rice. When the water dries up, you pull the rice out of the mud and hit it against the earth to get off all the dirt in handfulls. Your family put all your handfulls together making a green bunch of rice plant.
Dah (grandfather) slept on the farm, in a house of wood built on stilts. He boiled bamboo over a fire, and ate it with offal. When you sleep in the stilt house, you sleep watching the stars. And it's never quiet, it is peaceful, but there is always the sounds of Thailand. The geckos "ging gok". The big lizards "dook keh". The crickets, the ripple of fish in the water, the soft howls of wild dog packs, sometimes a gentle brey of a buffalo, and the wind through thre bamboo trees.
In the day it's hot, and to cool off, I would always swim in the pond he dug out and swim with the fish. Sometimes I could persuade Dah or one of my brothers Nui, or Moi, to pick me a water lily, and what they would to is peel off the outer skin of the stalk and eat the soft flesh of the plant, it was wet and nutritious.
Usually I had a puppy at my heels, because our dogs are wild and are left to mate, and I would nurture one for my own.
The village is dirty and backwards, the soil is red, like bricks and it shows. We had a house that my grandparents Dah and Yai had built together. It was made mostly from corrugated iron and concrete. But it was old, and we soon had the plans for a new one in my life. We cleared the land behind the house, and there was a great pile of red dirt, a hill, that you had to climb. Nui and Moi got me dried up palm leaves and we would sit on them and slide down the brick red dirt like a tabogan.
They taught me how to make a toy horse from banana leaves with a cleaving knife.
Sometimes my aunts would let me try grinding spices or rice seeds with a mortar and pestle.
There is a lake by our house, not the pond on the farm, a proper lake in the middle of the village, and in Songkran (the water festival and the hottest time of the Thai year) all the kids from school would come swim in it, and we would get the best spot, where there are huge concrete pipes, so you can go under the bridge from one side to another. I ripped my shorts sliding down the concrete water slides.
On weekends we'd go to the waterfalls. The water is the clearest blue you've ever seen and trout swim in them. In the smaller pools, we'd try to catch baby fish in our hands as a game.
The waterfall has 5-7 levels. The ground, the lowest waterfall, the slightly higher waterfall, the waterfall which starts too need climbing to, and the waterfall which you must go through jungle to swim in.
From level four you can see level 5, but there is a great tumble of silver water before it, it would kill you to try and slide down. Some of the levels have waterfalls small enough to slide down. Natural water slides, but not at the top. At the top you see the whole jungle and temples high up in the hills. There is a great slab of red rock with surprisingly little water considering how much goes down the falls.
Nui, Moi and me always raced each other to the top.
I grew up partly also in the capital city. Grung Tape, or Bangkok to foreigners.
We stayed in Honey Hotel for most of my life, and all the staff and cleaners knew me well, the breakfast ladies laughed at my face when I ate ribs in red sauce and it made a jokeresque smile on my face. It's where I learnt to swim. Once my parents bought me a terapin and my terapin ran aound the halls of the hotel and I followed, eventually when we had to go to England, I released him in one of the city parks.
At about the age of 10 my parents decided to buy our own house, cause the city had too much traffic.
The beach was different for us, we bought a house in Cha-Am. I met Marina there, she was half thai, half english like me, and she became like my little sister. Banana boats, and jelly fish, and pretending to make a house on the beach, by digging and putting up twigs and coconuts.
I met Thomas, a norweigan boy, and we played hide and seek in the village, in other peoples cupboards, empty houses and the backs of trucks, we pretty much started a war with other Sports Village boys. Thomas and I ruled us. We met lots of half kids, and foreigners. We were against the Thai boys. We played games against them. Play fights. Football, and we had to win.
We thought we ruled the world.
You're balanced.
I remember walking along rice paddies, on my grandfathers farm. He would herd buffalo on one side, and grow rice on the other. The paddies are in grids, you walk along the crossed lines, and in the squares between the lines, you flood and grow the rice. When the water dries up, you pull the rice out of the mud and hit it against the earth to get off all the dirt in handfulls. Your family put all your handfulls together making a green bunch of rice plant.
Dah (grandfather) slept on the farm, in a house of wood built on stilts. He boiled bamboo over a fire, and ate it with offal. When you sleep in the stilt house, you sleep watching the stars. And it's never quiet, it is peaceful, but there is always the sounds of Thailand. The geckos "ging gok". The big lizards "dook keh". The crickets, the ripple of fish in the water, the soft howls of wild dog packs, sometimes a gentle brey of a buffalo, and the wind through thre bamboo trees.
In the day it's hot, and to cool off, I would always swim in the pond he dug out and swim with the fish. Sometimes I could persuade Dah or one of my brothers Nui, or Moi, to pick me a water lily, and what they would to is peel off the outer skin of the stalk and eat the soft flesh of the plant, it was wet and nutritious.
Usually I had a puppy at my heels, because our dogs are wild and are left to mate, and I would nurture one for my own.
The village is dirty and backwards, the soil is red, like bricks and it shows. We had a house that my grandparents Dah and Yai had built together. It was made mostly from corrugated iron and concrete. But it was old, and we soon had the plans for a new one in my life. We cleared the land behind the house, and there was a great pile of red dirt, a hill, that you had to climb. Nui and Moi got me dried up palm leaves and we would sit on them and slide down the brick red dirt like a tabogan.
They taught me how to make a toy horse from banana leaves with a cleaving knife.
Sometimes my aunts would let me try grinding spices or rice seeds with a mortar and pestle.
There is a lake by our house, not the pond on the farm, a proper lake in the middle of the village, and in Songkran (the water festival and the hottest time of the Thai year) all the kids from school would come swim in it, and we would get the best spot, where there are huge concrete pipes, so you can go under the bridge from one side to another. I ripped my shorts sliding down the concrete water slides.
On weekends we'd go to the waterfalls. The water is the clearest blue you've ever seen and trout swim in them. In the smaller pools, we'd try to catch baby fish in our hands as a game.
The waterfall has 5-7 levels. The ground, the lowest waterfall, the slightly higher waterfall, the waterfall which starts too need climbing to, and the waterfall which you must go through jungle to swim in.
From level four you can see level 5, but there is a great tumble of silver water before it, it would kill you to try and slide down. Some of the levels have waterfalls small enough to slide down. Natural water slides, but not at the top. At the top you see the whole jungle and temples high up in the hills. There is a great slab of red rock with surprisingly little water considering how much goes down the falls.
Nui, Moi and me always raced each other to the top.
I grew up partly also in the capital city. Grung Tape, or Bangkok to foreigners.
We stayed in Honey Hotel for most of my life, and all the staff and cleaners knew me well, the breakfast ladies laughed at my face when I ate ribs in red sauce and it made a jokeresque smile on my face. It's where I learnt to swim. Once my parents bought me a terapin and my terapin ran aound the halls of the hotel and I followed, eventually when we had to go to England, I released him in one of the city parks.
At about the age of 10 my parents decided to buy our own house, cause the city had too much traffic.
The beach was different for us, we bought a house in Cha-Am. I met Marina there, she was half thai, half english like me, and she became like my little sister. Banana boats, and jelly fish, and pretending to make a house on the beach, by digging and putting up twigs and coconuts.
I met Thomas, a norweigan boy, and we played hide and seek in the village, in other peoples cupboards, empty houses and the backs of trucks, we pretty much started a war with other Sports Village boys. Thomas and I ruled us. We met lots of half kids, and foreigners. We were against the Thai boys. We played games against them. Play fights. Football, and we had to win.
We thought we ruled the world.
'Manz from different endz'
To protect ourselves, we surround ourselves with people that help us out of those dark holes, always there for us, carrying ropes. Some people are better guardians, some guardians help you feel better about yourself, some throw themselves in front of you, some stand up for you in a fight. Some guardians are dangerous.
When you love a wilder beast, you are tied to it, but at the end of that rope is ferocity.
Whilst around other people, the beast tied to you can hurt them, you can't always protect people from yourself.
You could remove yourself, but that'd hurt you, that'd hurt them.
You could untie yourself, but that'd hurt you, that would hurt your heart.
When your heart calls, you follow.
Once a girl, collecting water from the well, saw a Lion under the accacia tree. His mane was full and beautiful, his paws were strong, and his eyes, his eyes shined with gold. She fell in love with him.
Everyday she wandered further and further from the well, inexplicably drawn to him.
At first he waited by the tree, but soon, day by day, as she came closer with every sunrise before running back, he was drawn too. He smelt her sweet scent and warm blood.
Then, she came close enough to feel his hot breath, and she reached out to stroke his mane, enchanting as the moment was, his instincts fuelled him to strike, for mistrust of men, and his aggression.
A village man ran out to defend her, he fought the Lion, raised up his spear to strike -
But the girl couldn't bear it, for the beautiful Lion to lose life for her, for the man to be hurt for her sake, and she flung herself before the spear, and it pierced her heart.
When you love a wilder beast, you are tied to it, but at the end of that rope is ferocity.
Whilst around other people, the beast tied to you can hurt them, you can't always protect people from yourself.
You could remove yourself, but that'd hurt you, that'd hurt them.
You could untie yourself, but that'd hurt you, that would hurt your heart.
When your heart calls, you follow.
Once a girl, collecting water from the well, saw a Lion under the accacia tree. His mane was full and beautiful, his paws were strong, and his eyes, his eyes shined with gold. She fell in love with him.
Everyday she wandered further and further from the well, inexplicably drawn to him.
At first he waited by the tree, but soon, day by day, as she came closer with every sunrise before running back, he was drawn too. He smelt her sweet scent and warm blood.
Then, she came close enough to feel his hot breath, and she reached out to stroke his mane, enchanting as the moment was, his instincts fuelled him to strike, for mistrust of men, and his aggression.
A village man ran out to defend her, he fought the Lion, raised up his spear to strike -
But the girl couldn't bear it, for the beautiful Lion to lose life for her, for the man to be hurt for her sake, and she flung herself before the spear, and it pierced her heart.
1/26/2010
%#$£...
If you close your eyes, you'll see darkness. But if you keep them closed long enough, and concentrate hard, you'll see light.
If you keep holding on and see things through they'll get better.
Sometimes I look at things, and I can see circles of black, like swirling whirlpools, then I see flashes of white, and matter, every atom, I can see, in every colour, as though on a computer screen, like I finally see the truth of existance. We are just matter, atoms held together, with so little holding them there.
If you keep holding on and see things through they'll get better.
Sometimes I look at things, and I can see circles of black, like swirling whirlpools, then I see flashes of white, and matter, every atom, I can see, in every colour, as though on a computer screen, like I finally see the truth of existance. We are just matter, atoms held together, with so little holding them there.
Casual sex.
Sooo, we all have our desires, and some of us like to play with fire.
We sate our needs with the pleasures of someone elses body. What if it's with someone you barely know?
.. Is it bad to sate your desires?
We sate our needs with the pleasures of someone elses body. What if it's with someone you barely know?
.. Is it bad to sate your desires?
Secrets.
What do you think would happen if someone read your diary? If the whole world knew what it said?
1/25/2010
Its a lie, isn't it?
A thing to remember; If you're going to pretend, remember, everyone's pretending. Rich poor, beautiful, or not. Everyones wishing they were something else, something better. All you have to do is lie with conviction. Act better and you'll become better :)
Chin up. Act.
Chin up. Act.
The meaning of hair.
Whenever something happens to me, and I want to change, because I have to, or I'm inspired, usually I change my hair with it.
Whenever my hearts broken or changed, a new colour surfaces.
The smell of the peroxide and dye excite me, the anticipation of the change. The washing out is awful. It's damp and uncomfortable. But when its all over, i'm brand new.
Whenever my hearts broken or changed, a new colour surfaces.
The smell of the peroxide and dye excite me, the anticipation of the change. The washing out is awful. It's damp and uncomfortable. But when its all over, i'm brand new.
"Want"
Someone once said probably not so long ago 'You can take anything if you want it enough.'
This is true I think, but you have to cross a lot of lines, you have to do things which are morally grey.
I'm asking you, do you think it's worth it?
This is true I think, but you have to cross a lot of lines, you have to do things which are morally grey.
I'm asking you, do you think it's worth it?
Ruler of the Jungle.
Tigress ruled over the jungles of Cambodia, over the greatest structures of the world, that had been abandoned and overgrown. Monkeys would call out when she walked by, and deer would run away at the sound of her roars. She loved the jungle, and all the beauty of it, the way sun shone on her coat under dappled leaves, the brightness of every flower.
One day Tiger wandered into her jungle, and she was afraid, that he would take her Kingdom from her, for he was great and strong just as much as she was, and so they fought bitterly in flashes of orange, black, and ivory white teeth.
She saw the power in his body, his lithe movements, and passion.
He saw her feline grace, ferocity and love.
There were only two outcomes for two creatures such as them, to stand together with love, greater than anything else, and rule over the Jungle.
Or to destroy each other, and rule alone, the one with ulitmate power.
I think I've felt this kind of love...
One day Tiger wandered into her jungle, and she was afraid, that he would take her Kingdom from her, for he was great and strong just as much as she was, and so they fought bitterly in flashes of orange, black, and ivory white teeth.
She saw the power in his body, his lithe movements, and passion.
He saw her feline grace, ferocity and love.
There were only two outcomes for two creatures such as them, to stand together with love, greater than anything else, and rule over the Jungle.
Or to destroy each other, and rule alone, the one with ulitmate power.
I think I've felt this kind of love...
SHOCK. HORROR.
Okay I'm going to breach a nice SENSITIVE topic here :)
Stop reading if you don't want to shame yourself, or youre faint hearted.
FEMALE MASTURBATION!
is it wrong? is it 'normal'!?
how many people do it?
'cause no one ever says, not even at sleepovers during dares,
it seems to be a really hush hush kinda thing.
come on girls. ADMIT IT!
in fact, TRY IT!
its good for you, it feels good, it longs out your life!
at least, it does for males, if males didnt choke the chicken, spank the monkey, race the pink whippet... they wouldnt live HALF as long.
Get in touch with your body, girls.
.....Not that I do it ofc....
Stop reading if you don't want to shame yourself, or youre faint hearted.
FEMALE MASTURBATION!
is it wrong? is it 'normal'!?
how many people do it?
'cause no one ever says, not even at sleepovers during dares,
it seems to be a really hush hush kinda thing.
come on girls. ADMIT IT!
in fact, TRY IT!
its good for you, it feels good, it longs out your life!
at least, it does for males, if males didnt choke the chicken, spank the monkey, race the pink whippet... they wouldnt live HALF as long.
Get in touch with your body, girls.
.....Not that I do it ofc....
?!
Do you believe in true love?! There's someone out there for you, youre so suited for each other, perfection/fate sent you this one, theyll teach you to better yourself/ pure coincidence?
Steak #
In the words of Alex the Lion from Madagascar (great movie) :
Come on now, baby. My little filet. My little filet mignon with a little fat around the edges. I like that. I like a little fat on my steak. My sweet, juicy steak. You are a rare delicacy.
I love steak. I have an unhealthy addiction to it. I could never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever.. etc
become a vegetarian. No matter how cute those little calves look, I'll kill and eat them myself if I have to.
I'd ever prefer cannibalism to being a vegetarian, and my Dad encourages me, he said
'Mary, what would you do if I divorced and your mother married a vegetarian?'
'Insist on eating meat'
'And if they refused?'
'Kill someone.'
'Excellent. Do you know how to kill effectively and cut up the bodies?'
'No...'
'Well murder is a subject for later, but what you must do is first bleed the body by cutting the throat, wrists and armpits, they'll drain blood the fastest. Then you'll have to gut them and remove the bowels, they make the body smell and if you leave them too long, they make the carcass inedible.
For the best cuts of meat, hang the carcass for a long time to soften it.'
'Okay Daddy.'
Bien sur, this is unneccessary, because my parents are not getting divorced and I will always eat meat and live happily ever after.
I do worry about what my father and I discuss at times.
Come on now, baby. My little filet. My little filet mignon with a little fat around the edges. I like that. I like a little fat on my steak. My sweet, juicy steak. You are a rare delicacy.
I love steak. I have an unhealthy addiction to it. I could never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever.. etc
become a vegetarian. No matter how cute those little calves look, I'll kill and eat them myself if I have to.
I'd ever prefer cannibalism to being a vegetarian, and my Dad encourages me, he said
'Mary, what would you do if I divorced and your mother married a vegetarian?'
'Insist on eating meat'
'And if they refused?'
'Kill someone.'
'Excellent. Do you know how to kill effectively and cut up the bodies?'
'No...'
'Well murder is a subject for later, but what you must do is first bleed the body by cutting the throat, wrists and armpits, they'll drain blood the fastest. Then you'll have to gut them and remove the bowels, they make the body smell and if you leave them too long, they make the carcass inedible.
For the best cuts of meat, hang the carcass for a long time to soften it.'
'Okay Daddy.'
Bien sur, this is unneccessary, because my parents are not getting divorced and I will always eat meat and live happily ever after.
I do worry about what my father and I discuss at times.
Schitzo #
If you meet me for the first time, on my own, you'd see I'm awfully timid. (I'm just a girl.)
If you met me with my friends I'm the loudest and most outgoing. (The Lion.)
I love sex, but in fact I'm not overtly sexual, my mind doesnt actually think about sex too much, just wants it when it wants it. When I act overtly sexual, I'm just pretending, I'm always pretending round my friends. I bet they didn't see it. 'Cause I've known them for so long, I've changed over time, but I didn't show it on the outside much, just tried to act the same. I don't think I know how to act normal, I just do.
If you were with me on my own all the time, you'd probably know me best, but not one single person does that, a lot of people just see snippets.
I have a lot of aggression, and a lot of fight. I know I have a great deal of pride and ego, so sometimes I might do something bad to you, and I'll feel so guilty, but I can't apologise, I cant say I was wrong, I don't know why, it's like I never learnt how, it chokes me in my throat but I won't say it, only wait to make it up to you with action. That's mainly Leo. You might think he's bad but he's also the side who has the urge to protect his 'pride' his family and friends, the people I care about, he'll defend you to the death if you're loyal to him. Show loyalty to us, and we shall be loyal to you.
I have a lot of love to give to anyone, and I mean anyone, and above all a great desire to be loved, I feed off love and being accepted by people I love. It is my source of strength. Because of this I'm terrified of not being accepted, and not being loved. ( I never realised I knew myself this well!) Everyone has their weaknesses, which, if you know, hurt the most. If you confirm someones insecurities in a fight, they'll feel it, and quite possibly break down. They're also quite easy to find. I'm quite foolish, or brave to air my insecurities so openly. I guess there's more to me, but I can't quite put it into words at present.
If you met me with my friends I'm the loudest and most outgoing. (The Lion.)
I love sex, but in fact I'm not overtly sexual, my mind doesnt actually think about sex too much, just wants it when it wants it. When I act overtly sexual, I'm just pretending, I'm always pretending round my friends. I bet they didn't see it. 'Cause I've known them for so long, I've changed over time, but I didn't show it on the outside much, just tried to act the same. I don't think I know how to act normal, I just do.
If you were with me on my own all the time, you'd probably know me best, but not one single person does that, a lot of people just see snippets.
I have a lot of aggression, and a lot of fight. I know I have a great deal of pride and ego, so sometimes I might do something bad to you, and I'll feel so guilty, but I can't apologise, I cant say I was wrong, I don't know why, it's like I never learnt how, it chokes me in my throat but I won't say it, only wait to make it up to you with action. That's mainly Leo. You might think he's bad but he's also the side who has the urge to protect his 'pride' his family and friends, the people I care about, he'll defend you to the death if you're loyal to him. Show loyalty to us, and we shall be loyal to you.
I have a lot of love to give to anyone, and I mean anyone, and above all a great desire to be loved, I feed off love and being accepted by people I love. It is my source of strength. Because of this I'm terrified of not being accepted, and not being loved. ( I never realised I knew myself this well!) Everyone has their weaknesses, which, if you know, hurt the most. If you confirm someones insecurities in a fight, they'll feel it, and quite possibly break down. They're also quite easy to find. I'm quite foolish, or brave to air my insecurities so openly. I guess there's more to me, but I can't quite put it into words at present.
1/24/2010
Never get caught.
One day my Daddy said,
'What do all people in jail have in common, Mary?'
'Theyre criminals?'
'No. They got caught.'
He taught me I could do anything, steal, murder, destroy, as long as I never got caught.
You may think he taught me odd things, but theyre valid all the same.
'What do all people in jail have in common, Mary?'
'Theyre criminals?'
'No. They got caught.'
He taught me I could do anything, steal, murder, destroy, as long as I never got caught.
You may think he taught me odd things, but theyre valid all the same.
Rebellion.
When I was younger, I didn't let most people tell me what to do. You could have called me a 'free spirit' I just followed my feet and my heart. I loved getting lost in forests and the like. I didn't act as others did, or follow trends, my father told me not to be the sheep.
What I hate about society, jobs, school. They beat it out of you, they stop you from thinking for yourself!
At one point in my life, I realised I didn't have the same fight in me anymore, the attitude, the freedom.
They were taming me.
And I said to myself, never again.
Now I go looking for trouble when it suits me, because I can, because I need to.
I need to be free in my own way, to rebel against the system.
They're not taming me ever again.
What I hate about society, jobs, school. They beat it out of you, they stop you from thinking for yourself!
At one point in my life, I realised I didn't have the same fight in me anymore, the attitude, the freedom.
They were taming me.
And I said to myself, never again.
Now I go looking for trouble when it suits me, because I can, because I need to.
I need to be free in my own way, to rebel against the system.
They're not taming me ever again.
Don't kill it.
What I truely hate about English lessons, is that teachers feel the need to tear apart poetry, into tiny pieces and analyse every word said. How the full stop at the end of my last point is showing the emotion I have and the emphasis on what I said! The exclaimation mark shows just how much this subject raises my temperature. Poetry is beautiful as it is.
As an analogy, in biology we dissect frogs to understand how they work. To dissect the frog, you have to kill it first. In movies, you don't think, ghosts aren't real, nor are zombies, 'cause that just kills the storyline.
Same with love, why question how it works, you can feel it and that's enough.
As an analogy, in biology we dissect frogs to understand how they work. To dissect the frog, you have to kill it first. In movies, you don't think, ghosts aren't real, nor are zombies, 'cause that just kills the storyline.
Same with love, why question how it works, you can feel it and that's enough.
Drama, Scandal, Betrayal.
I love drama. I don't take it as a subject, because they look too deeply into it, and writing about it.
In the words of Oscar Wilde 'I love acting, it's so much more real than life.'
I'm a dramatic person and dramatic events seem to follow me, it makes my life so FUN. I wouldn't trade my life for anything.
I realised a short time ago that drama isn't all good, I'm young and having fun while I can, yet above all else I would rather like love.
Someone loved me more than anyone else ever had (if you know me well you probably know who, for purposes of writing, I'll call him Paladin) Paladin loved me truely and deeply. The kind of love that would last till old age, gravestones side by side and all that. 11 hour phone conversations, reading stories to me until I fell asleep, and watching sunrises. Easy flowing conversation from sex to politics. Paladin didn't like people much being slightly autistic, he liked us being alone. Of course I had my friends and the drama of life about me, you'd wonder why we even got along. Someone else liked me (again for purposes of writing, he is Giacomo [and yes, I know I use odd names]) Giacomo was more attractive, social and dramatic. He couldnt possibly love me half as much, but I chose him. I broke Paladin's heart, cheated on Paladin (quite possibly, my greatest mistake [not regret] in life) and Giacomo hit Paladin round the face a few times. This kind of drama is simply splendid in my world, but it doesnt change the hurt I felt when I saw blood dripping from Paladin's mouth, he is harmless and sweet, he needs protecting, and I always protected him from people, I stopped Giacomo from hitting him further, yet I couldn't protect Paladin from myself, from my life. I traded a real slow burning love, for a dramatic love that blazed with such intensity it had to burn out. And I question whether I should keep doing so, am I passing up real love for drama? It can't be healthy for me... but it's so fun. There are some kinds of people that will just get hurt near me. To love is to destroy and to be loved, is to be the one destroyed... apparently.
In the words of Oscar Wilde 'I love acting, it's so much more real than life.'
I'm a dramatic person and dramatic events seem to follow me, it makes my life so FUN. I wouldn't trade my life for anything.
I realised a short time ago that drama isn't all good, I'm young and having fun while I can, yet above all else I would rather like love.
Someone loved me more than anyone else ever had (if you know me well you probably know who, for purposes of writing, I'll call him Paladin) Paladin loved me truely and deeply. The kind of love that would last till old age, gravestones side by side and all that. 11 hour phone conversations, reading stories to me until I fell asleep, and watching sunrises. Easy flowing conversation from sex to politics. Paladin didn't like people much being slightly autistic, he liked us being alone. Of course I had my friends and the drama of life about me, you'd wonder why we even got along. Someone else liked me (again for purposes of writing, he is Giacomo [and yes, I know I use odd names]) Giacomo was more attractive, social and dramatic. He couldnt possibly love me half as much, but I chose him. I broke Paladin's heart, cheated on Paladin (quite possibly, my greatest mistake [not regret] in life) and Giacomo hit Paladin round the face a few times. This kind of drama is simply splendid in my world, but it doesnt change the hurt I felt when I saw blood dripping from Paladin's mouth, he is harmless and sweet, he needs protecting, and I always protected him from people, I stopped Giacomo from hitting him further, yet I couldn't protect Paladin from myself, from my life. I traded a real slow burning love, for a dramatic love that blazed with such intensity it had to burn out. And I question whether I should keep doing so, am I passing up real love for drama? It can't be healthy for me... but it's so fun. There are some kinds of people that will just get hurt near me. To love is to destroy and to be loved, is to be the one destroyed... apparently.
Egotistical
So I really love myself. I love the way I look, what I am and who I am.
Is that wrong? To be completely content with what you are?
I don't look down on others, or see myself superior, thats an injustice and my father taught me not to think like that. Perhaps if he hadn't taught me his lessons, I would look down on others, but I don't.
People say to me I'm weird, I'm ugly, but it never bothers me, 'cause I know I'm weird, and I like it, and I like the way I look.
But sometimes people say 'You love yourself so much, but it doesn't make sense. We all think you're ugly and you're not all that'
And as much as I continue loving myself, I think.. 'Should I love myself this much? Who I am... is it good?'
I will keep loving myself, because that's who I am, but I start to question whether I should.
Is that wrong? To be completely content with what you are?
I don't look down on others, or see myself superior, thats an injustice and my father taught me not to think like that. Perhaps if he hadn't taught me his lessons, I would look down on others, but I don't.
People say to me I'm weird, I'm ugly, but it never bothers me, 'cause I know I'm weird, and I like it, and I like the way I look.
But sometimes people say 'You love yourself so much, but it doesn't make sense. We all think you're ugly and you're not all that'
And as much as I continue loving myself, I think.. 'Should I love myself this much? Who I am... is it good?'
I will keep loving myself, because that's who I am, but I start to question whether I should.
Origami.
I'm trying to make an origami crane. The japanese say the one who folds 1000 cranes will be granted 1 wish! :D
Story writing.
So I was thinking: I write stories all the time, cause I have huge ideas when I'm in a certain mood, but I never finish them, I just do a bit and then my mood changes and the story goes, so I have to write really short stories, or snippets of stories within poems, if I want to write at all. It annoys me that I can't write a proper story. So I thought what if people wrote a bit of a story, then passed it on. Wouldn't that be an amazing story? It wouldnt ever have to end, and it'd have ideas that you'd never dream of on your own, the only basis would be on the title. It could be about love and betrayal and friendship, and running away, and the setting would be the whole world! Anyone want to try it?
Heartbreak.
Supposedly love is just an illusion, a dirty trick nature plays on us to achieve continuation of the species. But if you can feel it, that makes it real enough..
Drugs released into your brain give you that high feeling of love and infatuation, the quickening of your heartbeat, the prickly heat over your skin, the blood rushing in your veins.
So heartbreak is just getting over an addiction, perhaps. (which begs the question, Why do people still keep loving? It's a drug. What is it good for? Well, its fun. It feels good.)
What is the best way to get over it then? A problem with letting them out of your life, like a bird you set free, is that you could forget, and that'd be the worst thing: to forget.
The moments you share are precious and so need to be remembered, but remembering hurts. What else is there to do..?
Drugs released into your brain give you that high feeling of love and infatuation, the quickening of your heartbeat, the prickly heat over your skin, the blood rushing in your veins.
So heartbreak is just getting over an addiction, perhaps. (which begs the question, Why do people still keep loving? It's a drug. What is it good for? Well, its fun. It feels good.)
What is the best way to get over it then? A problem with letting them out of your life, like a bird you set free, is that you could forget, and that'd be the worst thing: to forget.
The moments you share are precious and so need to be remembered, but remembering hurts. What else is there to do..?
Colours.
My favourite colours change in phases. Sometimes it's yellow red and blue, then it's green and purple. My underlying favourite is always yellow, but I still go on and off others. Do you think perhaps that your taste in people changes in such phases, or is that just me?
1/20/2010
Some thoughts about love,
Do you ever really stop loving someone? I mean, you can love, be in love, and fall out of love, but though you may not be in love, surely you never stop loving that someone.. not if it's real love.
I see people all the time just forget about people, completely, they don't even think about how they are or watch over them. I just don't get it. If you love someone, that's forever isnt it?
Everyone I've ever truely loved, I still do.
Can someone explaaain? :/
I see people all the time just forget about people, completely, they don't even think about how they are or watch over them. I just don't get it. If you love someone, that's forever isnt it?
Everyone I've ever truely loved, I still do.
Can someone explaaain? :/
A word of advice
Okay, so supposedly 'all boys want one thing' (personally I don't think thats true, to an extent)
If you're talking to a girl, call her pretty/beautiful, rather than sexy/hot, at least when you don't know each other well (aren't having rampant sexual activities, if so say both) you get more points for that :)
And you're more likely to get some ;)
...Am I joking? Not sure
If you're talking to a girl, call her pretty/beautiful, rather than sexy/hot, at least when you don't know each other well (aren't having rampant sexual activities, if so say both) you get more points for that :)
And you're more likely to get some ;)
...Am I joking? Not sure
1/19/2010
Self harm (it just affects you. its your life, your body, so you can choose what you do.)
(Listen to the Magicians Assistant by Dan le Sac vs. Scroobius Pip)
Yannoe what? I tried self harm. Yep. There's so much hype about it. The 'emo' scene. Also a close friend revealed to me they tried self harm, not because of depression, but boredom. He said he got such a rush seeing his own blood and feeling the cuts. He found it hard to quit because he became addicted to the feeling, but that was before I knew him.
So I was bored, and I tried it with a stanley knife. I was so afraid of hurting myself, I did it so gently it was only a paper cut. BUT MY GOD DID IT HURT. Never again, it hurt. I love myself too much. Papercuts sting, let alone real cuts.
Self harm = Hurt
Hurt + Self = Bad.
If I'm ever angry I'd rather go harm someone else :) (I jest.)
Yannoe what? I tried self harm. Yep. There's so much hype about it. The 'emo' scene. Also a close friend revealed to me they tried self harm, not because of depression, but boredom. He said he got such a rush seeing his own blood and feeling the cuts. He found it hard to quit because he became addicted to the feeling, but that was before I knew him.
So I was bored, and I tried it with a stanley knife. I was so afraid of hurting myself, I did it so gently it was only a paper cut. BUT MY GOD DID IT HURT. Never again, it hurt. I love myself too much. Papercuts sting, let alone real cuts.
Self harm = Hurt
Hurt + Self = Bad.
If I'm ever angry I'd rather go harm someone else :) (I jest.)
Sexual Addiction#
Okay, I admit it, I love sex. Is that strictly bad? Being a girl people might think I'm a sket. But sex/orgasms is/are healthy for you. It feels good. The french call orgasms 'le petit mort' - the little death. What they mean is, it is the completion of life, the one state of mind where you are compeltely happy, you feel no pain because of drugs released in your brain. Some believe it is a glimpse of heaven.
Also, it's meant to make you live longer.
I don't want to be seen a slut, but I can't help loving sex. Ideas?
Also, it's meant to make you live longer.
I don't want to be seen a slut, but I can't help loving sex. Ideas?
What is happiness?
I think love makes me happy, I also think that anyone (yes, anyone) is capable of making me happy, and I have too much love and it's healthy for me to direct that into a relationship, or my love just squirts out everwhere.
But I also know that when I'm away from people, and I forget about everything that goes on in social circles, I'm completely happy, with who I am, loving myself, and entertaining myself. I'm used to entertaining myself being (pretty much) an only child. My parents are miserable old sods (they say so themselves) so I'm okay being alone.
I like to sit on the top branch of a tree, and read, and write (awful) poetry, and draw, and just think, and forget... People never see that about me.
But I also know that when I'm away from people, and I forget about everything that goes on in social circles, I'm completely happy, with who I am, loving myself, and entertaining myself. I'm used to entertaining myself being (pretty much) an only child. My parents are miserable old sods (they say so themselves) so I'm okay being alone.
I like to sit on the top branch of a tree, and read, and write (awful) poetry, and draw, and just think, and forget... People never see that about me.
Good and Bad.
When I was little I watched Babe. I thought he was adorable, and so sweet natured. Nice to everyone. It hit me at one point that Babe's mum was eaten by us. Humans. I was so horrified I considered becoming vegetarian. (A disgusting habit.)
When I watched the Lion King, I *hated* Scar for killing Mufasa, his own brother. That moment made me cry everytime (Yes, even now.) The pain Simba had to go through, because of his own uncle; Family that's mean to protect him.
As a child, these things bring out thoughts of right and wrong. I realised, that Farmer Hoggett was a good human, and he loved Babe, but also ate Roseanna: a duck. That was bad. I love animals, but as a child I also watched David Attenborough programmes. This brought out in me the desire when watching Looney Tunes, for the Coyote to eat the roadrunner, for Tom to eat Jerry. I realised I wasn't bad 'cause I ate animals. It is just the nature of things, survival of the fittest.
Also upon further inspection into the history of the Lion King, there were short comics. Scar (who was previously called Taka) and Mufasa had parents - Uru and Ahadi. Mufasa was the oldest son and so the heir to the throne, the future King of Pride Rock. Taka grew resentful because his father, Ahadi, was harsh to him and clearly favoured Mufasa. As much as Mufasa loved his brother, they didn't fit in together anymore, no matter how hard Mufasa tried. There are many versions after this point. One is that Ahadi hit Taka, and this confirmed his hatred for his father and brother. From that day, he had them call him Scar. Other versions include buffalo attacks, that his father did not protect him from. On top of all this, Scar always loved Sarabi. Sarabi loved Mufasa. Mufasa loved them both. Scar wasn't born evil, he was unfortunate, and couldn't deal with his pain. You can't hate Scar for being forsaken.
When I watched the Lion King, I *hated* Scar for killing Mufasa, his own brother. That moment made me cry everytime (Yes, even now.) The pain Simba had to go through, because of his own uncle; Family that's mean to protect him.
As a child, these things bring out thoughts of right and wrong. I realised, that Farmer Hoggett was a good human, and he loved Babe, but also ate Roseanna: a duck. That was bad. I love animals, but as a child I also watched David Attenborough programmes. This brought out in me the desire when watching Looney Tunes, for the Coyote to eat the roadrunner, for Tom to eat Jerry. I realised I wasn't bad 'cause I ate animals. It is just the nature of things, survival of the fittest.
Also upon further inspection into the history of the Lion King, there were short comics. Scar (who was previously called Taka) and Mufasa had parents - Uru and Ahadi. Mufasa was the oldest son and so the heir to the throne, the future King of Pride Rock. Taka grew resentful because his father, Ahadi, was harsh to him and clearly favoured Mufasa. As much as Mufasa loved his brother, they didn't fit in together anymore, no matter how hard Mufasa tried. There are many versions after this point. One is that Ahadi hit Taka, and this confirmed his hatred for his father and brother. From that day, he had them call him Scar. Other versions include buffalo attacks, that his father did not protect him from. On top of all this, Scar always loved Sarabi. Sarabi loved Mufasa. Mufasa loved them both. Scar wasn't born evil, he was unfortunate, and couldn't deal with his pain. You can't hate Scar for being forsaken.
1/18/2010
Telescope usages.
So my Dad was on the phone to his grandson, Oscar and he was asking what he wanted for christmas, this is how the conversation went :-
'So Oscar, what would you like for christmas?'
'A telescope please'
'They're quite expensive, that's worth two christmas presents. What will you use it for?'
'To look at the stars and the moon'
'Are you sure you won't use it to spy on ladies undressing?'
'No! I'm only nine! .........When I'm twelve maybe'
;) I like the way my nephew thinks.
'So Oscar, what would you like for christmas?'
'A telescope please'
'They're quite expensive, that's worth two christmas presents. What will you use it for?'
'To look at the stars and the moon'
'Are you sure you won't use it to spy on ladies undressing?'
'No! I'm only nine! .........When I'm twelve maybe'
;) I like the way my nephew thinks.
Daddy, was I adopted?
One day I watched a programme on TV about adoption, of course I asked my father when he walked in
'Daddy, was I adopted?'
'HAHA! I wouldn't adopt a *SOD* like you.'
I was pleased with the answer. How charming :)
'Daddy, was I adopted?'
'HAHA! I wouldn't adopt a *SOD* like you.'
I was pleased with the answer. How charming :)
idiosyncratic.
id·i·o·syn·cra·sy (idEOS ink ras y)
n. pl. id·i·o·syn·cra·sies
1. A structural or behavioral characteristic peculiar to an individual or group.
2. A physiological or temperamental peculiarity.
3. An unusual individual reaction to food or a drug.
idi·o·syn·cratic (idio sin-kra tik) adj.
idi·o·syn·crati·cal·ly adv.
n. pl. id·i·o·syn·cra·sies
1. A structural or behavioral characteristic peculiar to an individual or group.
2. A physiological or temperamental peculiarity.
3. An unusual individual reaction to food or a drug.
idi·o·syn·cratic (idio sin-kra tik) adj.
idi·o·syn·crati·cal·ly adv.
Leo#
Is it weird to have an alter ego? Cause I think I have one. He's called Leo. He likes drama and attention and violence. He's prone to aggresive outbursts, and he is gloriously stubborn. He takes care of his pride, his family and friends. He's the weird part of me, I'm just a girl.
Je pense..
What sets humans apart from other animals? I don't think it's only love, it may have something to do with it, but dogs are capable of complete love and devotion, Parrots are a monogamous bird, and if owned as a pet love their human as their spouse. Parrots can live over 60 years old and if you have friends round they get very jealous, and attack your friend. If you die, your parrot becomes depressed, plucks out all its feathers and dies (now that's dedication) Elephants love their family members and touch the fallen bodies of their old sisters. Its not that we have memmory or thought to the future, perhaps it's that we always strive towards more, a higher state of understanding or achievement, we choose something just out of reach and run after it.. But maybe thats not all *I can't figure it out!*
Substance
Does everyone have hidden substance? Deep thoughts and emotions... It's like no one has a real and memorable conversation these days :/
1/17/2010
Divorce#
So, what dyou think? Is is better for parents to be together unhappy to give their child a stable well financed life, or parents to be apart, and happier, better equipped to take care of them because they don't have to constantly sort things out with their spouse? I thought perhaps you could argue that if a couple stayed together until the child was an adult and left home, and then split it wouldnt be so bad, but then, wouldnt the child feel as though if they hadnt left home, their parents would still be togther, and the home that was meant to be stable was just gone. On the other hand you could say that if they split when the child was young, they'd feel it was their fault they split, that they weren't enough to keep them together, and then if they stayed together, it was their own fault their parents were unhappy O_O
I don't know what's right. I think my parent's might split up. They fight so often, sometimes so explosively.
I don't know what's right. I think my parent's might split up. They fight so often, sometimes so explosively.
Choices.
I'm half and half, of two different countries, and if my parents ever split up, I'd be forced to choose between two worlds. Two countries... But then I thought, doesn't everyone? As a child, you can be friends with just about everyone, but then you split off into groups, and despite wishful thinking, that's the way it always seems to go. Some when in a relationship have to choose between friends and their lover, it might not be their fault, their lover may not fit in with the others, or they could get engaged and live somewhere else. I want to keep loving all different kinds of people, but when you love different kinds of people, you find you put yourself on the line for someone, and those who have no loyalty to that someone will hold it against you, blame you for not being on their own side. People may say the good friends will understand that, you're just being who you are, there are two sides to a story, but what if the someone you stand up for is hurting the other people you love, and it isn't their fault, so you have to be there for them, because you love them, and you're other friends have to reject you, because it's hurting them, seeing you on the line, in the middle of a war. Any thoughts?
So I've been thinking...
..well okay there's a lot to say :- Seeing more of the world, it isn't as black and white as you first think, its all varying shades of grey, mixed in with different colours, and I guess in life, you like some colours more than others,some people more than others, but you can't say someone is bad, not worth it, cause no ones born a cruel motherless son of a bastard, we're all born with the ability to love, and how life treats us affects how much hurt and anger we have, but love is always still in there to bring out in people, surely? And the people who reject love and niceness, who are cruel and the ones who have been hurt before and are afraid to let people in, and they're the ones, that having let someone in, love truely and don't let go. So I ought to try and be nice to everyone and everything, even if this means I'm going to get hurt for loving two different kinds of people. It's worth it to be a true lover. We have all done stuff wrong in our lives, but we can forgive ourselves (most of the time) 'cause we know why we did it, and why it was wrong, and how to make it better. If you can forgive others like that, that makes you someone worth holding onto, doesn't it?
So.. What d'you think? :/
So.. What d'you think? :/
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