I'm dying SquirtleThere is something people say that hurts so deeply, that makes me want to choke people, makes me want to cry each time it happens.It's something most people would kill to hear, ironically.Positive comments about my weight and body."You're so thin!""I wish I was your size.""You look great!""You're perfectly fine.""Ugh, I'd kill for your body - I'm so fat."Oh, god, when they say "I'm so fat" I doubly want to kill them.What has society devolved into? Perfectly healthy people want to look like me - malnourished, underweight, shadows and lines under my eyes, pale as a ghost, can't lay on the floor or sit in certain chairs because my bones poke the hard surfaces painfully.Once someone asked me how I got my "perfect tummy."I was not feeling well that day, so I replied in mocking anger; "Oh, you know. Depression, stress, apathy, starvation - just the usual!"I didn't receive a reply back for that one.Once a cousin was going on and on about my "perfect body" and how she was just soo
dumbassYou fucking retards,This shit is stupid simple,God fucking damn it.
PennyI once had a penny.It was shiny, made in '20.I held on to that pennyTil I was 23.I met a girl whose name was Jenny,And she reminded me of penny,With her copper hair flowingSo nice and free.I also knew a man named Benny.He was real good friends with Jenny,And I just didn't wantHim and her to be.So I took my lucky penny,Dipped in arsenic, covered plenty,And gave it to dear BennyFor him to keep.Then there was only me and Jenny,and our good times, they were plenty.She always came overTo visit me.But she had a friend named Kenny.He was an officer, knew a man named Benny.He locked me up andThrew away the key.Now my age is thirty,I've a new penny and it's dirty.Gonna dip it in some arsenicAnd count to four.
In Last Year's NotebookHave you ever drowned?Oh, I have a couple times.Well, obviously it's more like "almost drowned,"Because I'm pretty sure I'm still "here."It's scary, isn't it?I mean, obviously it is, but sometimes it's really scary.I'm talking about when nobody notices you're drowning.Completely helpless, you try to call out butEveryone's too far away or you're too busy drowning to be able to call.Choking, I mean.Oh, but the worst part is when they're lookingRight at you,But still don't see it.Might even yell at you to quit fooling around,To get back to the group,Or something like that.That really puts you in despair.And by the time somebody finally sees you,You've already gone under.Sometimes they pull you back up butIt's difficult to forget the darkness.
Crack CookiesWhat you will need:1 1/4 cup of all purpose flour. 1/4 cup of unsweented cocoa powder.1 cup of granulated sugar.3/4 cup of butter (melted, then cooled).1/4 teaspoon of salt.1/4 teaspoon of baking powder.1 tablespoon of almond extract (pure or artificial).2 eggs.Powdered sugar (aka confectioners' sugar).A medium bowl and a large bowl.Either a small-muffin pan, or whatever other pan with shallow dishes desired (nonstick or oiled; doesn't matter). You may need more than one.Preheat oven to 375 F (190.6 Celsius).Stir together flour, cocoa, salt, and baking powder in medium bowl.Beat sugar and eggs in large bowl with electric mixer at medium speed for 5 minutes, or until the mixture is light in colour and falls in wide-ish ribbons from beaters.Beat in dry mixture at intervals on low speed, until well blended (no chunks!).Beat in melted butter and almond extract until just blended.Spoon tablespoonfuls of batter into pan dishes; make sure not to fill too much, as the cookies do rise.
MotherMother, do you think they'll drop the bomb?"I don't trust those Mexicans.""You don't know if they're all Mexicans... and why not?""They can't speak English. Who knows what they're saying?""What are they going to do? Throw spicy meat at us?""Watch your smart-ass mouth... they'll probably bring their families here and take up all the jobs, too. You know, they won't hire white people.""...Because it's a Hispanic restaurant. For Hispanic food. Made by Hispanics.""No shit, smart-ass, but that doesn't mean they can't hire some poor white kids from the high school."Mother, do you think they'll like this song?"Mom, I'm trying to submit a poem to this contest...""Oh! Oh! A contest? You can submit one of mine--""No, I'm supposed to write it. I have some here...""....What? These? No, you can't submit these. You can't understand them. You won't win."Mother, do you think they'll try to break my balls?"Want to see my new pictures?""Hm? Sure."...."They're good, I
and she'll say she's okaybut really she's a mess, a deep dark mess all scattered around like so many fallen leaves crunching c r u n c h i n g as she steps on them. And she'll tell you she's just tired --no she isn't lying, it's what she tells herself too-- but when the razor blade is in her hand it doesn't really look that way anymore, does it? [No it doesn't, this is when you're supposed to close your eyes and stop looking stop looking stop looking for your own fucking good please just stop looking.] Yes, this is when you're supposed to not notice how much of a complete wreck she is, this is when you're supposed to bask in the illusion that yeah, she cuts herself, sure, but she's holding it together. No worries.But really, she's a walking disaster always has been always will be. She was last year too, last year when everything was so wonderful and she was bleeding all over the ocean-blue sky splattering the milky-white clouds but oh well, the red helped her see the stars and that was w
EscapeLungs burnas feet pound hardagainst gravel.Knee throbs.Don't stop.Joints grind:boneagainstbone.Breathshort.Never stop.Pain shootsthrough my back.One footin frontof the other:the only thingI know.Sweatd r i p sfrom my skin.Bloodpulses;heartbeatinmy temple.Don't look back.Legs numb.Gaspfor air.Lungssoe m p t y.Am I still moving?Bodycollideswith earth.Black spotsin the s
DesolationThere isno wayto escapethe sadnessof the soul.It is anunfulfilleddesire, tryingto deny thisoverbearingloneliness.I pushedyou away,into the cornersof my mindwhere the memoryof you died.-Brian ShuffettJune 19th, 2010
perfectEverything was so perfectWe had our drawbacksWe didn't even go to the same schoolBut I loved you all the same.Never had a fight or any anger towards youWe were always thinking the same thingWe were so alike it was like we had twin soulsThere'd never been two people so perfect for each other.Then one stupid mistake tore us apartI've messed up like this countless times beforeBut this time you're not the one that wants to leaveIt was your family that ripped my perfect love away from me.This is different from all my past heart breaksNot just because you've seen my heart in its purest formBut you cry yourself to sleep and not meFor once I'm the strong one and you're a perfect disaster.I worry that when we can be together again that you won't still love meBut I know you feel the same because you always doI have already dedicated myself to you for all eternityBecause to me no matter what you'll always be my perfect love.
WindowIt rained today,A soft, sweet melody to end all others,His grimface pressed against the window pane,His eyes following yearninglyThe figure as she hopped among the puddles.He grasps at the figure,But he is blocked, limited by his world,The dark, dank confines of a roomThat seeks to hold on to him,To drag him down.It bloomed today,A rarity as it was,A bright dew-dotted messenger,That grew into his room through a crack,And always seemed to stare outside with him,Its constant companionship a quiet,Yet solid reminder of a silent ally,That sought nothing moreThan to smile inwardly at him,To be a light in the dark.She came that day,An artist's work brought to life,Trudging along that cloudy day.The rain made her even more real,She did not fade,Crossing the path to his windowAnd removed the hat that blocked her eyes,A stunning evening-sky blue.Her hand reached out and almost touched his,Covering it, seperated only by the glass.
we all have bad daysSometimes I have to inhale and exhale s l o w l y with my mouth
losingi shiver against the chaos of mythoughts shouts everywhere whispered plansand pieces of dreams i lulled myself into sleepwith last nightsi try to help myself stop thinkingabout him start doing something go somewhereso i won't see that face of hisit's no use though silly dreams i count thetime with making my head spin round his eyesand that gorgeous perfect so far away from mygrasp and words i could ever aim at himsmiledon't know what's the cause this time hewon't even look at me now a childish thoughti could get his attention with a piece of a clothwith a flirtous move of hips with a smile the coloura broken pomegranate with something akin tohappiness at the sheer sighti feel useless like a broken doll all strings decollatedwith lack of interest i thought i meant somethingplayed even a tiniest role in the play of his life was perhaps the leading actressfor the very first timeinside and outi feel so cold now
What You've DoneDo you realize what you've done?You have given me hope,A hope that might never come true.It hurts soo much, I dont know what to do.Its squeezing my chest so hard I cant breath,I never cry.But when it comes to you-Even if its a single tear,It still hurts.Why-Why cant it go away,Its tearing me apart.So please just make it stopBefore my hopes get too highPlease......