Why do we Dream of a White Christmas? I think I might just know.

A few people have mentioned wanting a white Christmas, and I think I know why. When people do actions they want to see the rewards or consequences. Such as, when someone cuts themselves they would like to see blood. Would people still cut themselves if they never bled? [Rhetoric questioning.] When I get hit pretty fucking hard, I want to see a bruise. When my arm feels broken, it better be. When I fracture my skull, I want to get a few days out of school. See my point? So when it's ass-chilling cold outside we, the people, would like to see some fucking snow.

Lost Legends, how about that..
It's been a while since I actually wrote about Lost Legends. I get a headache just thinking about all I need to do there. Ehh. I decided to rework my website as well, and I will eventually have this information up there.

Current projects underway include:

"Tired of fighting, tired of fighting, fighting for a lost cause."

Since Sunday, two people have told me not to commit suicide. And I don't know how to feel about it. I thought I kept it all inside. Apparently I slipped.

"I still want you by my side, just to help me dry the tears that I've cried."

Negatively thinking, I had my left arm propped on the keyboard's sliding shelf, hand under chin, fighting back tears on an emotionless face. With my right hand I slowly sketched an eye on notebook paper. I hear my mother shuffling about and turning off the television, then the room light, walks by and pauses. I recall being thankful that the computer cabinet door had kept my sadness hidden. "What are you doing?" she asks, more curious than concerned. I blinked to make sure I wouldn't shed any tears, and lifted the pen. I then sat straight, my face no longer covered by the cabinet door, and looked at her. "I'm drawing." "Oh, ok. Goodnight." Sometimes it hurts too much to hurt.

OMG! OMGLOLscratchmyassandhopeyoudieLMFAO!

Hap..! Happens, all the time. So, I've been reading through a few random journals for a small portion of the night, gazing hypnotically at the embers of what once held great memories at its prime. Hopping swiftly through journals, like flipping pages through an overly read, and well liked, novel of yore, it suddenly donned upon me that, as a girl and, as a journal keeper, I do not have my own godamned support group. Boo fucking hoo.

Removed a few posts. Replaced them with a song in HTML savvy format.

I was on my way to the center of the sun When I lost my wings and I fell into a crowd And they carried me to the hole in the ground And they buried me Where no one could see And no one would be around I am a virus, I live in silence I was on my way to a city in the clouds When I lost my mind and I had to settle down Then I had a dream of an island in the sea Where the lepers die Where no one survives And no one can hear the cries I am a virus, I live in silence And just like the heathens thinking On our feet we believe in God And with one step, two steps Three steps toward the graveyard On the high road to remembering It seems that we forgot I am a virus, I live in silence

Loneliness is the stepping stone to happiness.

I'm so happy, that unhappiness is my friend. No longer need I know the beginning, I'll always know the end. And when I feel my heart torn out I know which way to turn. In the distance there lies my grave, uncovered and unadorned. Dark bodies floating in darkness No sign of light ever given Imprisoned in a world without a memory Unconscious, or am I conscious? Cut from the heart I am part of Sometimes I feel as though I'm frozen in heaven And I saw my own face in the dark and loneliness And I saw my own face like a spark frozen in heaven In dreams I see myself flying Closer to the sun, and I'm climbing Tried to touch the sun But the brightness burned my eyes Unconscious, or am I conscious? Fell from the sky like a star Sometimes I feel as though I'm frozen in heaven And I saw my own face in the dark and loneliness And I saw my own face like a spark Unconscious, or am I conscious? Fell from the sky like a star Sometimes I feel as though I'm frozen in heaven And I saw my own face in the dark and loneliness And I saw my own face like a spark frozen in heaven Dark bodies floating in darkness...

Deary Me Deary My

Hmm. So. Where to begin? About three days ago I got an email from a guy who wanted to be friends, or something. So we emailed each other a little bit and today he said that he wanted to meet me. Just so happens we live ten minutes apart. But I knew this small fact before he even mailed me, because at *cough* the website I met him at he mentioned where he lived. Yada yada, etc, etc. My biggest problem is that he obviously likes me for my outside appearance. Some people may find this hugely flattering, but I'm not some people. It kind of bugs me a taddd bit when people address me as "cutie". I mean, in all seriousness and complete honesty, I'd much rather be addressed as "mutherfucker". I kid you not. But anyway, I'm only posting about this guy because I'm feeling a little nervous and I can't say that I like that feeling. He told me some sappy ass cheesy little story about what appeared to be me, just a few numbers switched around, and I pretended to buy it. I don't know why. I don't understand myself a lot of the times. I just didn't want to tell him off. I'd love to meet someone that I initially met online, just maybe not him. He keeps telling me I'm sweet, I'm pretty, I'm so niiiiice and I'm thinking to myself where did I go wrong? Heh. Whatever right? All I know is that I'm going to wear some old, grungy clothes for tomorrow just in case he turns out to be one of those knife-wielding stabber people, because I don't want holes in my good clothes. Damnit. If I don't make a post within two days of this one, assume I'm dead. Seriously. This guy is creeping the hell out of me. Oh, but on a brighter side of things.. I chatted with an awesome guy. Awesome in every way, except for his squiggly font. But that's what a good friend is like. When I chat with someone I can tell who would make a good friend, and this guy would. He talks about cool shit. Heh. What else before I risk being a rape victim.. Ktool is such a cool guy as well. Hahaha. I'm just joking with you all.. I'm sure I will be just fine tomorrow. Because I lied to the guy and said I had a curfew.

Butterscotch Pride

My sister was talking to me about how Hispanics have this "brownie pride". That's what they call it, so I hear. So we started talking about what kind of pride would we have. And then we talked about that word "twinkie", though I much prefer "cracker" myself, and my sister started going into why she didn't agree with that term for us in particular. She said, "We're not yellow with white insides." Something weird like that. And she mentioned someone once calling her one of those wheat thins, or wheat crackers, because it's kind of yellow. I then said for the sheer stupidity of the moment, "I want to be butterscotch pudding." She said, "But, you can't. That's like.. creamy, and you're not creamy, you're just pale. Pale and white. Evil, white, vampire; Asian vampire." Umm, thanks. Ruin my butterscotch pride will ya. We have the greatest talks as well. She was telling me some of her work and other-type stories. So she earned a few new nicknames. She began to tell me a story, "I was talking with my boyfriend and then he called me.." and she paused, as if in thought. I finished her sentence, "Fuzzy bums?" "Umm.. no.." She replied in a sort of childish, embarrassed, joking sort of giggly-without-the-giggles way. "He called me.." "Walking hickey?" "Nooo.." She replied in an even more exaggerated way than before, her eyes lost on the floor and making a sort of sad puppy face. I thrive on being spitefully sarcastic and cruel to my older siblings.