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This guy at my school, who is disgustingly enamored with me, gave me some brownies as a gift. He’s like, “I baked these for you and your family. Would you like to try one now?” I was sitting there, eating animal crackers. “No, I’m not hungry,” I said. When I got home, I told my dad and he thought they were crack brownies or something. I fed them to my brother. He did not die, so I am assuming they were all right. I did not dare to eat a single one, and I have survived the brownies.
My girl fell between the cracks. She lost herself in him. I never saw my girl again.
My girl fell onto the rocks. She crushed herself in him. I never touched her again.
My girl broke upon the shore. She drowned herself in him. I never kissed her again.
My girl laughed as she went down. She lost her mind in him. I never made her laugh again.
My girl cried tears of joy. They would turn to pain.
My girl died to protect me. I knew she still loved me. But she never
Came back to me again.
Crash and Burn
I read some person’s blog on the Internet today and it was about how their relationship crashed and burned. I like reading things like that because I can incorporate it into my stories somehow. Everyone has had some kind of bad relationship in their life, or just a relationship that went wrong or didn’t go as planned. The longer you date someone before you break up, the more pain you will feel, which incites you to stay together with that person so you won’t have to face breaking up. The longer you date, the better your chances.
I know you only want me for sex, and my heart crashes down, because I don’t really give you sex.
I know you want to marry me, and my hope crashes down, because I don’t think you’re the right one.
I hate how you say, “You have the perfect body, but you could use bigger boobs.”
I hate how you can’t sit still for more than five seconds.
I hate how you need constant entertainment or you will get bored.
I hate how you only talk to me when you want sex, or when you bitch and complain.
Crayon Drawn Portrait
It’s something in my story. Lida drew a portrait of her father without even knowing what he looked like; she used the intuition granted her by Artemis, and drew the picture in crayon. Then she left it in the hotel room, which her father was next to inhabit. He found it, and wondered what kid drew the picture. Eventually Lida came back for her drawing, and that was when Tsunami realized he had a daughter. “Oh shit,” he thought. “Now what’s Naomi going to say?” Naomi is his wife; Tsunami had Lida with Natasha; his college sweetheart.
Every time a craze or a fad strikes, I am always the last to get into it and the last to get out of it. That happened with Beanie Babies, Pokémon, and a few other things; I think Tamagotchis was the other. Technically, I’m still not out of Pokemon yet. I do not collect the cards anymore, but I still play the video games and enjoy them very much. I still have my Beanie Babies all around my room, but I have not bought a new once since I was probably 11 or 12. My Tamagotchi is permanently dead.
When I was in the fourth grade, I got called “crazy” a lot. I think I took pride in that, but I did not like it, because it prevented me from having friends. I used to think that nobody really liked me, even when they acted like they did. From an early age, I believed that most people had false pretenses. I’m still trying to figure out why I thought/think that way. I am suspicious of most people I know, but that feeling is calming down and I am starting to become more “well-socialized”. It sure is about time!
I believe in the theory of creation, rather than that of evolution. Everything in nature has similar basic elements, and that is what ties all of us and all things together. We, as humans, are animals. We have much in common with animals, but God has selected us to be the ones to carry out his mission on earth, to preach his word and make him known as our creator. I don't think God created just Adam and Eve; he must have created other races around the world. I don't think the other races just evolved out of nowhere.
My idea of a crush is to make the person you're crushing on the most idealized image you possibly can. I do that all the time, then when I actually get my crush to like me back, I get disappointed. He is no longer as perfect as I thought he was. I still love him, but I get bored with him and start developing an idealistic fantasy about someone else. The cycle repeats and a trail of broken hearts follows me wherever I go (that part is obviously fake). I like the thrill of the chase better than love.
All I really wanted out of him was a good cuddle, and he killed the relationship. He never held me. He held my hand one night. Just once, and I could tell he even wanted to go too far. He never physically held me in his arms, he never cuddled me like I wanted. His hand was on my thigh and in my hand, when I wanted his arms around me. When we broke up, it broke my heart. I never got the cuddling I wanted, and I never got the safe sensation from him. I wanted that, too.
Curiosity Killed The Cat
I have a love-hate relationship with my feline faggot friend. My cat is gay, I swear he is. Maybe we just think of cats as having effeminate features because they are so graceful and so sleek and so clean. That's why I call my cat the Feline Faggot. He only loves me when he wants to, and he only curls up beside me when he wants to. I can't put him in my lap and expect him to stay. Curiosity will kill him. He will drown in the toilet. One time he fell in. Stupid cat.
I am cursed to pick crappy guys. I seriously think that some women are predetermined to pick bad men. I have two friends and they both consistently pick the worst men possible. I don’t know why, and it seems that they don’t know why either; they just do it. I realized recently that I seem to be the same way. From this moment on, if I ever get single again, I will just not pick anyone and I will save myself the hassle, the heartbreak, and the stress. I wish my two friends would eventually realize the same thing.
Some people think my username (quickstep) comes from me being able to dance. What a fallacy. I’ve never danced a step in my life that wasn’t horribly clumsy. I can slow dance, but who can’t? All you do is sway back and forth. When I was taken to a military ball (three times), I danced by myself so I would not embarrass myself. Dancing for me is such a joke, and in big parties I really don’t care what people think of how I “dance”, or rather “flail around trying not to kill anyone or step on anyone”.
That’s what I’d tell him. You watch your back, boy. I’m not playing games anymore. Everything you do is under intense scrutiny. You think you want to marry me? Well, I’m going to come down hard on you. I have to evaluate everything you do, and so far, what I’m seeing is a big, fat NO. I can’t do it. I can’t marry you, because I can sense the danger ahead. You won’t love me. You’re marrying me for a good sex life… I don’t need that. I want love, not sex. I want a future, not pleasure.
Dare, Dare, Double Dare
I was never dared to do anything that I recall. It might have been something relatively stupid, but it was apparently so insignificant that I don’t remember it. A dare is all right, as long as it’s not something dangerous or idiotic. I hate kids in elementary and middle school who are always daring each other to do things. That creates a lot of problems, and can add to the bullying situation. I was teased a lot in middle school and elementary school, and daring someone to do something just makes matters worse. Kids these days…
That’s a major theme in a lot of the things I write. I like to contrast light and darkness; it’s an easy, basic theme of literature, but I still enjoy reading stories that have that as a theme and writing those stories. Even the Bible has a lot to do with darkness versus light, and those stories are always interesting. When I was in the tenth grade, I always thought that guys who had a little darkness in them were more interesting or “hotter”. I don’t agree with that so much anymore. They are enigmas; I don’t want that.
I have been very restless lately. I have grown so tired of doing the same thing over and over again and I am longing for something new. In less than a month, I will be going off to college and will be experiencing a ton of new things, and hopefully I will not have time to dawdle around. I want to be busy, but just busy enough to where I feel successful, not overwhelmed. I’m not a bored person; it’s just that lately I seem to be impatient and restless; ready for this thing to happen, whatever it is.
I am one of those daydreamers. If a lecture in class starts to get boring, my mind dozes off and starts thinking of something else. It could be something realistic, and that thing will eventually contain some fantastic elements. The bad thing is, I sense that all of my teachers can sense me daydreaming because I get this look in my eyes. I hate it. I wish all of my emotions weren’t so naked on my face. Someone can always read my face and tell pretty much exactly what I’m thinking. I call it emotional nudity. It is x-rated.
Dead Man Walking
He knew he was a dead man walking. The corpulent man paced around and around his cell, trying to think of what he would say to the judges. Nothing came to his mind; there was nothing he could possibly make up that would liberate him. The others would betray him no matter what he said. They knew it was all a lie. There was nothing left for him on earth anyway. Not even his great plundered riches mattered anymore. Turning to the wall of the cell, the man pulled the cyanide capsule from his pocket… ate it…
There are deadly sins. Once you commit them, actually the second you commit them, is when you realize that this is something you could die for. Something you enjoyed so much, you felt the smooth badness course through you. You felt the full pleasure of being bad, of knowing you were doing wrong… but you enjoyed it for the moment, because that moment was all you had. It is often exhausting being “good” all the time. It is hard to keep up appearances, to build up the wall. Once you are bad, you let down that guise of good.
I am reading the book
, and it’s pretty freaky. I don’t particularly care for the writer’s style. The way he describes people is in choppy fragments. It’s good to get a quick image of the character, but I’m not used to that style. I like long, elaborate descriptions. The book is not much different from
; that whole thing with the weird kid, the priests, the rich parent… it feels a little fake. You could tell by reading them that both books were written with cinema in mind. And of course, they are both about death.
I am the liar, and I have deceived you. It is horribly fun to lie. Like I said in one of my past posts, you only know it is a deadly sin when you enjoy it and do not regret it. That is how I feel about lying sometimes. It is fun to lie to people, but I only do it when it is a white lie, or when it is a surprise I do not want the person finding out about. I do not lie about major things; to me, that is not in the “fun sin” category.
As I stated in the past entry, it is fun to deceive people, especially when it’s for the purpose of surprising them later. I could not wait any longer, so I told him the little secret. He was a little upset at my deception, but overall he found it a funny little joke. Like I said, I only lie to him about the little things; little white lies are indeed fun at times. It is easy to become a compulsive liar all the time though. I have a friend who is like that. She doesn’t know she does it.
Deep in Thought
I am almost always deep in thought, but for all the time I spend thinking, I’m not much more intelligent than anybody else. I never figure out anything really important. It bugs me. I know people who never seem to think – people who avoid thinking, yet they can think just once and figure out something that I’ve been ruminating over for days. It makes me jealous… it makes me feel like everyone else’s mind is somehow faster than mine. I used to feel that way when I was in high school English. Everyone knew all the answers.
Definite Cool Cat
The guy with the rims must have thought he was a definite cool cat. My brother and I had gone into town to pick up an order of Chinese food, and waiting at the traffic light was this pimped out, metallic-blue car. The rims and lift kit made it stand as tall as a truck, though I think it must have been some kind of Oldsmobile. Loud rap music blasted from the speakers, like the driver thought he owned the world. And he opened the driver’s side door… this door opened up like on a concept car.
She was deft at giving everyone what they wanted. When would she learn that it was impossible to please everyone at the same time? The girl would become flustered and make somebody angry; it wouldn’t matter who. Just one person was enough, and once they were angry, she would spend her entire life trying to right the wrong she had done, even if it meant letting everyone else in her life down. She would create a trail of fire behind her, struggling to right that first wrong, never paying attention to the present… always sinking deeper into the past.
I called him a demon before even he knew he was a demon. Ever since our freshman year of high school, I referred to him as “my demon”, “the demon”, or just plain old “demon”. I cannot name the reason why I dubbed him such, but it stuck. The following year, our sophomore year, he was still the demon… still steeped in the horror of whatever was within his soul that nobody could ever remove. That was when he was reborn, when he recognized himself as who he was… the demon in my soul. I have not forgotten him…
Demon on My Shoulder
When I am ignoring my cat, he stands on my bed, puts his paws on the back of my chair and meows ultra loud right in my ear. He can do this so quietly that the loud meow will startle me, and other times I can hear him coming. He does this at the worst times, usually when I am in the middle of writing, or when I am busy doing school work. I have always called my cat a demon because his timing is perfect, and he knows how to irritate me all too well.
I’m trying to live the way the Bible recommends. I am trying to deny myself, but this entire world does not support it. Well, at least the tiny microcosm I live in does not support it. What I truly want is to be like Jesus, and I want to try my best to accomplish that. I know the deepest desire of my heart, and that is it… to be like Him, to live without unnecessary things… to love everyone for who they are and nothing else, like Jesus would. The world tries to push me away from my goal.
It’s a terrible thing. That’s why I don’t understand these “emo” kids. They make depression out to be a fashion statement rather than the mental disorder it is. My father suffered from clinical depression for quite some time, and I know other people who are consistently afflicted by it. These “emo” kids need to grow up and enjoy youth rather than pretend to be depressed. Enjoy your teen years, people! They go by at warp speed, especially in high school and the first year of college. The whole world is open to you, so go out and enjoy it!
Men and their stupid penises… I hate them all, especially men under the age of forty. I wish I wasn’t so human as to be so vulnerable to desire. I hate this sexually polluted culture we live in. There is no sanctity, there is no purity, there is no cleanliness. Everything is sleazy, dirty, and disgusting. At the same time, desire fuels us. We buy into our culture, and I know it’s not the fault of men. It’s our own fault, for not learning self control, and not utilizing it daily, or putting it into practice as it should.
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