Post Fifty-One.

I loved Twilight.
We've decided that Eric Yorkie is my other half.
'Cos, we're amazing Asians like that.
Might be seeing it again tonight.

Thanksgiving lunch was good.
Still have to go to either Cassie's sister's or Aunt Carrie's for dinner.
... I'm gonna get huge.

Post Fifty.

What the hell am I doing up?
Why do I always sleep odd hours?

You're crazy.
Yeah, I'm crazy too.

Everything makes sense when you think outside the box.

Post Foruty-Nine.

Obscenities are the scene.

I miss '90's music...







♥Brookesany

Post Fourty-Eight.

Hey, you.

I miss you.

Post Fourty-Seven.

I'm here for the taking.

Friends,  yeah... best friends 'til the end.

Now it's gonna get harder

And it's gonna burn brighter

And it's gonna feel tougher,

Each and every day

So let me say,

That I love you

You're all I ever wanted

You're all I ever dreamed of to come

Post Fourty-Six.

Not exactly sure what's happening to me. It's nothing bad. No, no, no. Far from it, honestly.

I'm just... in a weird state.

Foreign.

Unheard of.

Weird.

Bright.

That's all I can think of.

That's how I feel.

Hmm...

Few posts back...

I know who's going to catch me.

I figured that out a few days ago.

Who's going to save me is a mystery.

But, isn't it that I am really my own worst enemy?

Thus, only I can rescue me.

But, good cannot exist where evil doesn't lay.

One isn't completely good...

And one isn't completely evil.

So, the real question is...

Are we really saving ourselves by trying to be on or the other?

Or are we leading us all to damnation?

Can one be lost and found at the same time?

By trying so hard to achieve a goal,  are we really doing what is best for us?

Post Fourty-Five.

Incessantly, the fear remains for

Living meant nothing

Other than breathing and believing

Voluntarily blind to reason

Equivocality within statements meant to mask

Your heart beat speeds and slows with time

Our lives go on, the mark remains

Under the stars, they're intertwined

Post Fourty-Four.

Feel as if I'm falling,

Falling fast.

Can't breathe.

Who will catch me?

Who will save me?

Isolation.

Within myself is salvation.

Let's get away.

Escape the world.

Post Fourty-Three.

"Why do you pray?" he asked me after a moment.
"I don't know why," I said, even more disturbed and ill at ease.
He closed his eyes, as though to escape time.
"I pray to the God within me that He will give me strength to ask Him the right questions."
The look in his eyes, as they stared into mine, has never left me.

In the air was the smell of burning flesh.
"Poor devils, you're going to the crematory."
"You're going to be burned. Frizzled away. Turned into ashes."
And I did not know that in that place, at that moment, I was parting from my mother and Tzipora forever.
Surely it was a dream.

Never shall I forget that night, the first night in camp, which has turned my life into one long night, seven times cursed and seven times sealed.
Never shall I forget the little faces of the children, whose bodies I saw turned into wreaths of smoke beneath a silent blue sky.
The SS gave us a fine New Year's gift.
Babies were thrown into the air and the machine gunners used them as targets.
That night the soup tasted like corpses.
"Where is God? Where is He?"

The moment has come. I was face to face with the Angel of Death.
I repeated to myself: "Don't think. Don't stop. Run."
He lept on me, like a wild animal, hitting me in the chest, on the head, throwing me down and pulling me up again, his blows growing more and more violent, until I was covered in blood.
I did not weep, and it pained me that I could not weep. But I had no more tears.
Humanity is not concerned with us. Today anything is allowed.
"Where is God? Where is He?"

"You must never lose faith, even when the sword hangs over your head. That's the teaching of our sages...."
Praised be Thy Hold Name, Thou Who hast chosen us to be butchered on Thine altar?
Why, but why should I bless him? In every fiber I rebelled.
I no longer accepted God's silence.
"Where is God? Where is He?"

"Throw out all the dead! All corpses outside!"
They were the first faces of hell and death.
From the depths of the mirror, a corpse gazed back at me.
Hell is not for eternity.
Surely it was a dream.
"Where is God? Where is He?"

Post Fourty-Two.

Carry the commotion of such adolescent speech.
Save it for the stage,
Where your words will really reach.
Risk a message to fall on ears,
Deaf to reason.
Out of the norm,
Considered no more than treason.
Society today,
Motivation how we lack,
Leaving future generations to pick up the slack.
Is this what you meant by a better tomorrow?
Lies.
Deceit.
Poverty.
Kids living on the street.
Can you see through my eyes,
As I can see through you lies?
Spiraling downward.
Mankind at its all time low.
On display and you've front row tickets to the show.


---
Devin thinks when I read that, it sounds like something Saul Williams would write.
I don't like the end.
It needs work.

Post Fourty-One.

Alas, I don't know what's going on anymore. Fighting. Fighting. Fighting. That's all anyone wants to do these days. They're at it again. Friendship really isn't anything, these days. It's all false. We don't stick together for what we have in common. It's not because we like each other. No, it's because we all need someone. We can't be alone.

Forget that. How can I listen to one, then go around and listen to the other, not saying a word. All it is is complaining these days. I just want a normal conversation... like back in middle school.

I'm tired of fighting.
I'm tired of secrets.
I'm tired of backstabbing.

I want friendship.
I want what we all used to have.
I want what was never there to begin with.

We all live to lie. We were taught to when we were younger.

"Don't worry dear, don't tell your father." "Oh, your mother doesn't need to know." "Shhh, don't tell dad. It's our secret." "You and I are besties, not her and me."

Blah. Blah. Blah.
I'm tired of it, honestly.
I don't know what to believe anymore.

Post Fourty.

One month. I'm not even sure if it's felt that long. Wow.

All I can say is that I'm really happy. More than happy. Gawd, it's crazy.

And, I do owe some credit to Jennifer and Jessica. 'Cos, I'm a wuss and all that, yeah. So, thanks double J.

Post Thirty-Nine.

Uggh...Was at the Grand Theatre since 3:30, basically. I got back from play practice at 10. Practice isn't supposed to go past 9. I was supposed to be home by 9. But, o'course... no. That's not how it works out.

So, my dad's a bit pissed. He says I shouldn't be spending so much time on something I'm not getting a high school credit for... that I spent 6 hours there and that that's too long. Basically, that I shouldn't have volunteered to help be a light tech.

Whatever.

Opening night is Thursday. Fuggin' Thursday. Know what? Techs didn't start with the play until Friday. Tonight was the second practice we've attended. That's all the time I've put into it. Now, imagine how much hell he'd raise if I was actually in the play? Gawd. O'course practices are going to run long. We're going through the WHOLE PLAY.

Stressed to the max.

Post Thirty-Eight

Just for kicks... The "Turn on/off quiz"! wth. To be honest, I think this is more a what you like/don't like sorta thing. 'Cos if you get turned on by some of this stuff... wtf. Oh well, I'll even go through and BS the girl one too.

on/off/dc(don't care)

IF A GUY

Wears braces: on
Dresses Gangsta: dc
Dresses Preppy: dc
Dresses Skate: dc
Dresses Athletic:dc
Has green eyes:on
Has brown eyes:on
Has hazel eyes:on
Has blue eyes:dc ha syucka
Smokes cigarettes: off
Smokes weed:off
Smokes cigars: off
Plays sports: dc
Can skate: dc
Writes lyrics:eh...on
Smiles a lot: on
Has blonde hair:dc
Has brown hair:dc
Has black hair:dc
Has red hair:dc
Has spikey hair:dc
Has no hair:off; ;
Has long hair:dc, depends on how long.
Good dancer: dc
Wears jewelry: dc
Piercing: dc
Muscles: dc to an extent
Laid back:on
Plays guitar:on
Plays drums: on
Raps:tha's chill
Can draw:on
Has a lip ring:dc
Has a tongue ring:off
Nipples pierced: off... those could get ripped off, and then what?
Hugs you: on
Hugs from behind: ...on?
Creative: on
Calls you just to hear your voice: dc
Tattoos: dc
Goes to church:dc
Is funny: on
Cuddles a lot: on

_____________________________________________________


IF A GIRL

Has a nice butt: fo' sho'

Plays musical instrument: Tha gurl be off the charts

Is taller than you: Homie don't play

Is shorter than you: Tha's whus up
Has green eyes: Reminds me of kool-aid

Has blue eyes: Ocean ain't as beautiful, bby

Has brown eyes: My chocolate bby kitten

Has hazel eyes: Honey, bby bear

Has long hair: Tha's whus up

Has medium hair: Bby can work it

Has short hair: Needs something to hold on to, bby

Drinks alcohol: Tha' way I can get her upstairs

Smokes cig's: Homie don't want yellow teeth.

Smokes weed: Bby gonna share?
Has blonde hair: Needs me a snow bunny.

Has brown hair: Is chill

Has black hair: Will you be my Egyptian princess?

Has red hair: Fiery

Calls you just to say hi: Bby, I need some space

Creative: In the bedroom

compliments you: She betta

Shaves her legs: Homie don't want no ewok

Wears jewelry: My bby betta have some ice

Has bigger feet then you: Homie don't need no Bigfoot

Belly piercings: Tha' whus up

Doesn't party: Hell naw

Likes to party: She best

Wants to party: She best

Laughs a lot: Best not have one of them crazy laughs

Happy: I don't need a mental case

Funny: Best she not talk

Skinny: Best be a toothpick

Rides a bike: She can ride my bike
Tattoo: Lower back, bby

Honest: Bby betta not be creepin'

Open: Tha's was up

Shy and quiet: Best not be shy

huge boobs: Tha's whus up

Licks lips: Sexeh
Lightly bites Bottom lip: Homie like

Talks dirty: Tha's whas up

Leaves you random comments: Hell naw

Competes with you: Hell naw


That was my gangsta alter ego. His name is Cletus. But, he goes by C-dawg.
wth. Disregard that whole thing.