Enjoy when you can, and endure when you must.
I’m not going to sit here and be a doormat. It makes me sick. I can’t be… well I can’t be anyone but myself. I guess maybe I expected too much. But this is for the next person who tells me that I don’t open myself up… or that I keep too much inside. I do this… because no one can fucking handle me. Ok. I’m crazy. Thanks got that. I love with my whole heart. I befriend someone with my whole heart. Maybe I shouldn’t do that… but that’s a lie I should. I cared… I fucking cared. I still fucking care. Maybe next week I won’t… but at this moment I do. So fuck off. Don’t tell me it matters when it doesn’t. Don’t whine on my doorstep any longer. I am done. And you’ll be sorry. I may not be perfect or awesome or sexy. But I am a damn good fucking friend.
I wish… I’m not sure what I wish. I just want things to make sense because nothing does. I’ve been crying for the last three days and I don’t know why. I haven’t felt this… nothing…. this broken… this fake since well two years ago. I don’t like it. It reminds me of things I don’t want to think of.
I can say this: I love you all. Anyone who has ever loved me. Anyone who has ever defended me. Anyone who is on my life now… I love you. As much as I can. Thank you for being my friend, for being in my life… for making me seem less crazy. It’s nice. Comforting. Some friends were never meant to leave. :)
Baby I just want to burn brighter for you
“Give me your heart girl hold to it all I want to do is get closer to you”
I’m not sure if I’m supposed to feel guilty about things I’ve done, which granted are not very bad. In fact they aren’t bad at all, in retrospect I’m pretty innocent. I just wish… I don’t know… that I didn’t care so much. I’m not sure my caring is good. I’m not sure I should allow my heart to be open again. Which is silly and stupid because how the hell am I ever going to have friends if I don’t allow them inside my heart? I just don’t want them to… hurt me… or use me. To get the advantage of other things. I’m not that amazing… or that hot. Or that whatever. But I DO have feelings. I do have a heart, a huge one. I’m a good person and I do my best to continue being a good person. I do my best to help others and be a good friend. But I also do my best to help myself and be true to myself. I suppose I’m not making any sense but oh well this is kind of what my brain sounds like right now. I want to run away to some unknown land where people don’t speak and I could braid flowers in my hair and wear long skirts and be at one with the Earth. I think then and only then will I feel peace. Maybe I was born in the entirely wrong generation and should go back in down and express who I really am. Goodnight.
I have something to say.
This is by no means towards anyone I just have something to say. Who the fuck do men think they are? Seriously who do you think you are that you think its alright to boss woman around, to hit them, to think that they are your god damn slaves to tell them not to do something when you do the god damn thing that you don’t want them doing. Who the fuck do you think you are? And better yet… who the fucks says we need you? huh?! Don’t get me wrong I do like men… but its so infuriating that most of them think like a cavemen still. Get the fuck over yourself. Learn to be a man, not a boy. Stop bossing us around like were your little dirty sex and kitchen slaves. Stop being the nice guy because EVERYONE knows that when you say your a nice guy… YOU ARE NOT a nice guy you are merely that guy. Stop saying “oh we’ll still be friends…” and then completely mind fuck people and not being friends when you were flopping moron who WAS THE ONE WHO WANTED TO BE. Stop saying oh much you want to get to know someone and then you don’t make any attempt and make the women look like idiots. Stop being a jerk. Get your arrogant head out of your fucking asshole. Before we do all become lesbians.
On a calmer note this isn’t to all men, just a few who lately have been pissing me off.
End of rant. :)
never stop believing we can have a new beginning
I kind of wish I were hollow. It would be a lot nicer to have a blank slate and a blank emotionless mind. I have all these emotions and all these feelings and I don’t even know what they mean. They make me feel crazy. Crazier than I’ve felt in a while. I feel that maybe if I were easy or a blank emotionless wad of a human that I would feel better. I know that I wouldn’t because that’s not who I am BUT the thought is a lot more appealing than this. I would hate myself. But maybe I wouldn’t be sad. Or maybe I wouldn’t be confused. Because it’s not so much that I’m sad, its just that I’m so confused it makes my brain hurt to even try to comprehend anything. I feel so out of touch with reality and those around me that are happy and in love or in lust or in like or whatever the hell they are all in. Because I’m always alone. And maybe its my fault because I don’t let people in. But I can’t. I could try my hardest to open up and allow someone in but it always goes sour right before I fully allow them in. So whats the point? What to find love? Let me ask this.
what the fuck is love?
And why is the world so obsessed with it?
Does it even really exist?
I don’t know what else to say.
“Because emotions scare me, because opening myself and becoming less rigid makes me feel sick. Because anyone I have EVER opened up to has done something to me that’s made my entire world apart. Because I am fucking insane and I have delusional and irrational thoughts. I’m scared of letting someone in because what happens when they leave again? What do I have then? The empty feeling of another person disappearing from my life, what a lovely thought. I would rather stay inside of myself forever than suffer through knowing that I’m not good enough. Or that I’m too crazy for any rational normal human being to care about or want to be friends with.”
I kind of want to move far away where no one lives. I guess I have issues that I need to move past.
Never means Forever
I’m not sure why but people asking me “Well what if you stop liking Fall Out Boy” after they see my tattoo annoys me. I will never stop liking them. I suppose this kind of makes me a lunatic. But no one gets it. I don’t love people, easily at least. Its hard for me. But I love this band, I love this band so much more than I could ever love a person. So yeah I’m kind of nuts. But my tattoo keeps me at ease. I guess you would have to be me. To be inside of my head and to see how it works to understand this. But don’t judge me by this. Who cares if I’m a lunatic.
I sighed, “It is hard. Maybe not for you because your amazing and a guy. But it is hard for me. I don’t know how to act around you. I don’t care if I make a fool of myself but I do care what you think somewhat. I want you to not think I’m some psychotic freak, even if that is what I am.”
He laughed, I felt it in every pore of my skin, “You are a psychotic freak, embrace it. I like that about you.”
A smile filled my face, “So you like that I’m crazy?”
His hands grabbed my face roughly, “I kind of love that about you.”
:) nom nom nom
As I round your corner
I am nervous that you won’t be my lover
I knock three times and hope that my pale complexion won’t blow my cover
You answer the door with your innocent face
Would you like to leave this human race, tonight?
Why is it that attractive people are the most intimidating? I suppose because they are attractive?
Or maybe it’s because I find the dumbest most ridiculous people attractive? Or maybe it’s because
I push the thought of it out of my brain completely because I cannot even begin to fathom it. Actually
maybe all that is wrong and I just get creeped out by them? I mean I honestly have no idea what to
say to somebody that I find extremely attractive. “Hello how are you? Would you mind if I sat and
stared at your smile for a few hours? its very pleasing and you see sir, I like it. You don’t really
have to talk all that much just looking at you is enough.”
Harry Potter prequel =P (J.K. Rowling’s actual work)
The speeding motorcycle took the sharp corner so fast in the darkness that both policemen in the pursuing car shouted, ‘whoa!’ Sergeant Fisher slammed his large foot on the brake, thinking that the boy who was riding pillion was sure to be flung under his wheels; however, the motorbike made the turn without unseating either of its riders, and with a wink of its red tail light, vanished up the narrow side street.
‘We’ve got ‘em now!’ cried PC Anderson excitedly. ‘That’s a dead end!’
Leaning hard on the steering wheel and crashing his gears, Fisher scraped half the paint off the flank of the car as he forced it up the alleyway in pursuit.
There in the headlights sat their quarry, stationary at last after a quarter of an hour’s chase. The two riders were trapped between a towering brick wall and the police car, which was now crawling towards them like some growling, luminous-eyed predator.
There was so little space between the car doors and the walls of the alley that Fisher and Anderson had difficulty extricating themselves from the vehicle. It injured their dignity to have to inch, crab-like, towards the miscreants. Fisher dragged his generous belly along the wall, tearing buttons off his shirt as he went and finally snapping off the wing mirror with his backside.
‘Get off the bike!’ he bellowed at the smirking youths, who sat basking in the flashing blue light as though enjoying it.
They did as they were told. Finally pulling free from the broken wing mirror, Fisher glared at them. They seemed to be in their late teens. The one who had been driving had long black hair; his insolent good looks reminded Fisher unpleasantly of his daughter’s guitar-playing, layabout boyfriend. The second boy also had black hair, though his was short and stuck up in all directions; he wore glasses and had a broad grin. Both were dressed in T-shirts emblazoned with a large golden bird, the emblem, no doubt, of some deafening, tuneless rock band.
‘No helmets!’ Fisher yelled, pointing from one uncovered head to the other. ‘Exceeding the speed limit by - by a considerable amount!’ (In fact, the speed registered had been greater than Fisher was prepared to accept that any motorcycle could travel.) ‘Failing to stop for the police!’
‘We’d have loved to stop for a chat,’ said the boy in glasses, ‘only we were trying -‘
‘Don’t get smart - you two are in a heap of trouble!’ snarled Anderson. ‘Names!’
‘Names?’ repeated the long-haired driver. ‘Er - well, let’s see. There’s Wilberforce…Bathsheba…Elvendork…’
‘And what’s nice about that one is, you can use it for a boy or a girl,’ said the boy in glasses.
‘Oh, our names, did you mean?’ asked the first, as Anderson spluttered with rage. ‘You should’ve said! This here is James Potter, and I’m Sirius Black!’
‘Things’ll be seriously black for you in a minute, you cheeky little -‘
But neither James nor Sirius was paying attention. They were suddenly as alert as gundogs, staring past Fisher and Anderson, over the roof of the police car at the dark mouth of the alley. Then, with identical, fluid movements, they reached into their back pockets.
For the space of a heartbeat both policemen imagined guns gleaming at them, but a second later they saw that the motorcyclists had drawn nothing more than -
‘Drumsticks?’ jeered Anderson. ‘Right pair of jokers, aren’t you? Right, we’re arresting you on a charge of -‘
But Anderson never got to name the charge. James and Sirius had shouted something incomprehensible, and the beams from the headlights had moved.
The policemen wheeled around, then staggered backwards. Three men were flying - actually flying - up the alley on broomsticks - and at the same moment, the police car was rearing up on its back wheels.
Fisher’s knees buckled; he sat down hard; Anderson tripped over Fisher’s legs and fell on top of him, as flump - bump - crunch - they heard the men on brooms slam into the upended car and fall, apparently insensible, to the ground, while broken bits of broomstick clattered down around them.
The motorbike had roared into life again. His mouth hanging open, Fisher mustered the strength to look back at the two teenagers.
‘Thanks very much!’ called Sirius over the throb of the engine. ‘We owe you one!’
‘Yeah, nice meeting you!’ said James. ‘And don’t forget: Elvendork! It’s unisex!’
There was an earth-shaking crash, and Fisher and Anderson threw their arms around each other in fright; their car had just fallen back to the ground. Now it was the motorcycle’s turn to rear. Before the policemen’s disbelieving eyes, it took off into thin air: James and Sirius zoomed away into the night sky, their tail light twinkling behind them like a vanishing ruby.
From the prequel I am not working on - but that was fun!
JK Rowling 2008
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