I really want to be posting on fictionpress but there is a gliche in the system and it won't let me upload documents. It says I'm not logged in. Silly system, right?

Sorry, there's no way to comment in this blog. I didn't realize this particular layout didn't have comment links when I decided to use it. If you have something specific you want to say, go ahead and e-mail or PM me (through fp).

I have some stuff I really need to post but no way to post since fp is gliching out... Ugh.

What bothers me a lot:
It bothers me to no end when I post in the Review Game (a wonderful forum for ginving and receiving reviews and a good template for reviews that are helpful and constructive) and instantaneously this certain person that I have come to not like very much at all reviews me and says basically the same four things over and over:

1. You have good word choice.
2. I'm not interested in your subject matter.
3. You use sarcasm well.
4. Your subject matter is unoriginal.

Okay, asshole, if you don't like what I write, then don't fucking read it (if you have to read it, then don't post a fucking review that I'll hate you for).

Agreement, anyone?

Whipping the Bitch
Mmmmm... I'm pissed off is a good way to start. I'm fed up, I'm just sick of her and her shit. I see her every day and she pretends I'm not there. I see her when I fall asleep, I dream about her, and I think about her all day long. I try my best to ignore her--it makes things easier. I try to just pretend I am invisible and she can't see me (even though she doesn't look at me to begin with) because then it all makes sense to me: She doesn't look at me, talk to me, or acknowledge me because I'm not really there. Simple, right?

But... when I came to school to find her leaning against my locker snuggling right up to my boyfriend... Oh, that's too much. She's gone too far (and this is not the first time, I've also caught glimpses of her scooting her chair very close to his during their DTP class fifth hour when I go to the English room). You wouldn't understand much it enrages me. And he doesn't even care, he doesn't move away from her, he stays right where he is and engages her in conversation (like she deserves to have him in her life).

He gets "relationship advice" from her and shares his advice with her. Why is it that he never tells me this? Is he afraid of me knowing? Is it that he doesn't think I should know that he's better friends with her now than I am? Great, my boyfriend is now taking my friends. What a wonderful guy. Oh, but that's all okay because "he hates her." If he hates her so much then why is he always trying to be her buddy? I fucking hate her. I wish she'd just die so then everyone could assume I'm just unhappy because she's dead instead of being unhappy because she isn't.

And the rest of them--the people that shove me around day after day. I pretended I was happy today (well, I was a little bit: my adv. gen. art panel is really coming together and people are telling me that they like it--it makes me a little bit happier inside) but, god, I daydream about slamming her face through a window.

(I'm serious. Don't question my seriousness.)

Italia

Devon's going to Italy.
It's like he's leaving me behind.

Say Sorry
SHUT UP & APOLOGIZE

---

I had a really shitty day and I felt oppressed, and left behind. You see, my friends aren't always there for me like you'd think friends would be, especially not the person that I would've--two years ago--considered to be my closest friend in the entire world. I feel detached from all that is real most of the time, and that is when I write the best.

So this piece I dragged up from the inside of me. I act pretty poorly when I feel shitty (which is quite often lately), so I kind of wrote this piece to say that yes, I can say things for the way I act and yes, I do feel like an idiot for not being a nice person.

But you know, they could step down from (or probably, more likely, fall off of) their fucking pedastals and admit that they're not the best, either.

STIX
.mate.feed.kill.repeat.
18 December 1992.
i do not capitalize when i write poetry.


Family.
Friends.
Mitch.
Boys.
Pretty girls.
A drug-free world.
Kisses on the forehead.
Slipknot, Metallica, & Mozart.
Hugs.
Touch&beTouched.
Love&beLoved.

shh, i'm always here for you.


February 2009
March 2009
June 2009
July 2009
August 2009
September 2009
October 2009
November 2009
December 2009
January 2010
February 2010
March 2010
April 2010
July 2010
November 2010



layout: +
fonts: +
brushes: + +
image: +