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
I Hate List Part TwoI hate children.
I hate infants especially.
I hate that my aunt thinks I hate babies because I'm jealous of them.
I hate anyone who uses the concept of jealousy as a shit-effort argument in any situation.
I hate unruly children.
I hate unruly pets.
I hate people who think treating their pets like children is babying them.
I hate people who don't realize you need to train children to behave just like you train pets.
I hate people who don't realize you need to train pets to behave just like you train children.
I hate people who think their children are angels the moment they're born.
I hate people who think kids swearing is cute and encourage it and then get pissed off when they don't stop swearing as they get older.
I hate people who FUCKING think swearing is the worst thing ever.
I hate people who tell me not to swear, especially if there's no reason for me not to.
I hate people who don't take the time to raise their kids and just consistently make it someone else's problem.
I hate peo
We Always Learn the Hard WayI've always wanted to ask
"What is it like to feel the searing burn of scorn?"
I've always wanted to ask
"What is it like to be second-class?"
I've always wanted to ask
The disabled man,
"What was it like to be a lesser being?"
I've always wanted to ask
An old woman,
"What was it like to have no place?"
I've always wanted to ask
The elderly black,
"What was it like during the Civil Rights era?"
I've always wanted to ask
"What was it like in Nazi Germany?"
"How did you feel?"
Since I met you,
I don't need to ask anymore.
Promise His FellowI could tell you that I'd make you proud to have me...
"You're... filthy! Your room... oh goodness!"
He looked up from the porn magazine he was reading, and smirked. "Come to wat--"
"No stupid, gross jokes! This is just... deplorable!"
He rolled over in his bed, sitting at the edge, and made lewd movements.
"Stop that! You're horrible!" his fellow responded, looking with disgust. "Wash yourself! I mean it, seriously, just... you're... sick! Disgusting! Just... I-I can't even express..."
The smirk was wiped off his face now. The unrestrained horror his fellow was expressing... actually made him feel bad about himself, for once.
Looking around the room, he saw the stains on the bed, the nasty clothes everywhere, the knotted socks, and, even his underwear was gray and holey, though it had started white, while his greasy hair stuck to his forehead.
He felt... ashamed.
... but it would be a lie.
I could tell you I'd help you through everything...
He shuffled awkwardly with the
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 but
Everyone'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 looking
Right 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 but
It's difficult to forget the darkness.
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?"
"They're good, I
What 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.
losingi shiver against the chaos of my
thoughts shouts everywhere whispered plans
and pieces of dreams i lulled myself into sleep
with last nights
i try to help myself stop thinking
about him start doing something go somewhere
so i won't see that face of his
it's no use though silly dreams i count the
time with making my head spin round his eyes
and that gorgeous perfect so far away from my
grasp and words i could ever aim at him
don't know what's the cause this time he
won't even look at me now a childish thought
i could get his attention with a piece of a cloth
with a flirtous move of hips with a smile the colour
a broken pomegranate with something akin to
happiness at the sheer sight
i feel useless like a broken doll all strings decollated
with lack of interest i thought i meant something
played even a tiniest role in the play of his life was perhaps the leading actress
for the very first time
inside and out
i feel so cold now
DissonanceYou play me
like a harp,
but you see I am
ever so slightly
out of tune.
The note you hear
is nothing more
than subtle discord.
January 22nd, 2011
gloamingi speak loudly
in my head
don't scare me
honey, take my hand, let
- me show you why
the earth just keeps on
despite the fact
that we're all
drowning and drowned,
dancing on mangled tip-
toes, and dreaming
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
trans.she had burgundy locks that appeared bedraggled yet vivacious and flocculent, matching her sanguine cheeks. large, masculine hands which were soso venerable yet soso elegant and an aura of vulnerability yet unwavering power.
her eyes were almost ebony. deep, dark but entrancing; worthy of admiration and envy.
her face was an image of (im)perfection. blue lips, tragic smile and porcelain skin. everything - all the tears, vexation, suffering - concealed yet emphasized within a convincing and immaculate mask.
once it was removed, (s)he was still beautiful.
BlindedWe are a world without vision,
Fumbling in the dark
Coming across one-eyed men
Who lead us to a bitter end.
Harsh and cruel.
Those who can see
Blind themselves with tears
Which come with the truth.
I don't hate youI don't hate you, but sometimes I want to rip your heart out from your chest and hold that pulsating organ in the palm of my hand. I want to see your eyesyour bright blue eyesstaring up at me fearfully, filling with shiny, graceless, pointless tears. I want to hold your heart in my hand forever, knowing that you know just as well as I that from this point on, you are mine, and mine alone.
I want to tear apart your chest and grab that beating heart, feeling the warm blood pooling around my feet, the delicious red staining my shoesand my handsfor the rest of forever. I want to stand in that crimson pool until the end of time, knowing that you will never be able to look into anyone's eyes other than mine, that you will never be able to hold anyone's hand but mine.
I don't hate you, but sometimes I want to kill you and lock you up in a room somewhere far away, knowing your dying eyes will be staring into mine forever, your limp and lifele