Okay, I can't believe I'm writing this shit at 12:30 in the fucking morning, minus one fucking finger. For those of you who know how to type using the home row keys, not having a middle finger to use is a fucking bitch! Anyway, I have lost the use of my right middle finger till about Christmas time, because I sliced the enter whole front portion of it off earlier today with the fucking paper cutter. I was cutting some tickets for the show for Tiffani, and I wasn't paying attention/talking to the secretary, and I sliced my finger nearly completely off. So now I officially don't have a full set of fingerprints anymore, neither can I type at a comfortable rate. And I have to agree that this is the climax for an already horrible week.
And to top it off, I have just discovered that A) one of the models is sick, B) one of the models is forgetting practice C) one of the models is harrassing others, D) one of them may not make the show due to prior obligations, and lastly, E) (how appropriate) has suffered a massive blow and is bleeding internally. Honestly, I don't know how my mother puts up with this shit. It's enough to drive a person completely and utterly insane.
Saturday, 29 October 2005
Tuesday, 25 October 2005
Here Comes a Mid-Season's Ratings Boost!
Oh god. That's simply all I can say is oh god. What in the hell is wrong with my life? Why does this shit just keep on happening? I swear, this shit keeps happening everyday. I just found out that my friend in high school had a crush on me that I never knew about, and I wanted to ask her out too. And that's a lost cause, and now she's living and dating an already dating couple, and the two of them has become the three of them, and it's mad weird. Then I find out she's bisexual, and it's just the start. Her mother's mad at her, and Kaitlin is losing her mind, moving out of her mom's house and all that. I hope she ends up okay. That's a big step. Too big. Anyway, I find out that I decided not to drop one of my hardest classes, just because I figure that I can tough it out since I've come this far. But either way, it's there, and I have to stick with it now.
Finally he came again tonight, and I didn't know what to do. I couldn't even bare to look at him, it hurt me so. Just thinking about what happened the week before was giving me the chills all over again. I don't even wanna think about that again. I'm just going to leave that alone, and go to bed.
Finally he came again tonight, and I didn't know what to do. I couldn't even bare to look at him, it hurt me so. Just thinking about what happened the week before was giving me the chills all over again. I don't even wanna think about that again. I'm just going to leave that alone, and go to bed.
Tuesday, 11 October 2005
This Is How He Makes Me Feel.
I've just sat up and devised this poem because I was so previously upset with the last blog. For your viewing pleasure. It's called: The Deadliest Virus Known to Man.
It starts as a cell, as it enters the stream,
A brief passing thought, a hazy daydream.
No hint of suspicion, not even a breath,
Of evil intention, the cause of a death.
Upward it flows, as if it’s by choice,
For it is the reason, that I hear your voice.
Goodbye, you tells me, when you see that I’m dying,
You talk with your eyes, though I know they are lying,
You close up your mouth, as you speak with your heart,
Your soul, the technique, your lying an art.
That you paint with my tears, perfecting your stroke,
Using my fears, while it’s making me choke.
But you are no artist, a doctor instead,
And I have a fever, your hand on my head.
You listen real slow, with a moment to pause,
But you’ll never know, that you are the cause,
The root of my illness, my darkness, my plague,
That’s killing me slowly, and making me beg.
I tell you my problems, as it flows in your ear,
But you cannot listen, if you cannot hear.
Away from your voice, a hasty retreat,
And into the heart being very discreet,
The cell makes it home, on destruction it’s bent,
To multiply, full of malicious intent.
They stack on each other till tissues are made,
To block out your heart, make your character fade.
So you tell me goodbye, as you walk out the door,
And I open my mouth, to say something more.
But my throat’s a cocoon,
And as hard as I tried,
But you are the moon,
And my voice is the tide.
It rolls in and I laugh when I see your face,
It rolls out, and I’d die to have your embrace,
To them you are both their oyster, their pearl,
But to me you are simply the entire world,
All wrapped up in one, a beautiful mesh,
Encased in one body, just one suit of flesh,
All mine, this body would to but me belong,
A beautiful treasure, and my favorite song.
To sing, and to play, in all different keys,
A sexual orchestra of harmonies.
But a virus builds inside of you,
That makes you act the way you do.
And the cells that build inside of me,
Create a lock, but you’re the key.
But because we live two different lives,
Time cuts us like a rack of knives.
And slits my throat so I can’t speak,
And steals my strength, and makes me weak.
And as I lay here dying on the floor,
You don’t even know, and you close the door.
And light a smoke, so you can forget,
But to me, you are my cigarette.
And when we die, they’ll need an answer,
So to look at you, they’ll claim lung cancer.
But they don’t know that I died too,
Of the same disease, that also claimed you.
Looking down from up above,
I died of the cancer caused by love.
It starts as a cell, as it enters the stream,
A brief passing thought, a hazy daydream.
No hint of suspicion, not even a breath,
Of evil intention, the cause of a death.
Upward it flows, as if it’s by choice,
For it is the reason, that I hear your voice.
Goodbye, you tells me, when you see that I’m dying,
You talk with your eyes, though I know they are lying,
You close up your mouth, as you speak with your heart,
Your soul, the technique, your lying an art.
That you paint with my tears, perfecting your stroke,
Using my fears, while it’s making me choke.
But you are no artist, a doctor instead,
And I have a fever, your hand on my head.
You listen real slow, with a moment to pause,
But you’ll never know, that you are the cause,
The root of my illness, my darkness, my plague,
That’s killing me slowly, and making me beg.
I tell you my problems, as it flows in your ear,
But you cannot listen, if you cannot hear.
Away from your voice, a hasty retreat,
And into the heart being very discreet,
The cell makes it home, on destruction it’s bent,
To multiply, full of malicious intent.
They stack on each other till tissues are made,
To block out your heart, make your character fade.
So you tell me goodbye, as you walk out the door,
And I open my mouth, to say something more.
But my throat’s a cocoon,
And as hard as I tried,
But you are the moon,
And my voice is the tide.
It rolls in and I laugh when I see your face,
It rolls out, and I’d die to have your embrace,
To them you are both their oyster, their pearl,
But to me you are simply the entire world,
All wrapped up in one, a beautiful mesh,
Encased in one body, just one suit of flesh,
All mine, this body would to but me belong,
A beautiful treasure, and my favorite song.
To sing, and to play, in all different keys,
A sexual orchestra of harmonies.
But a virus builds inside of you,
That makes you act the way you do.
And the cells that build inside of me,
Create a lock, but you’re the key.
But because we live two different lives,
Time cuts us like a rack of knives.
And slits my throat so I can’t speak,
And steals my strength, and makes me weak.
And as I lay here dying on the floor,
You don’t even know, and you close the door.
And light a smoke, so you can forget,
But to me, you are my cigarette.
And when we die, they’ll need an answer,
So to look at you, they’ll claim lung cancer.
But they don’t know that I died too,
Of the same disease, that also claimed you.
Looking down from up above,
I died of the cancer caused by love.
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