"Nature's a Whore Said the Shotgun to the Head": July 2005

My favorite...

Aww..

mmm..CHeetos!

growl, rwar, "roar", meow

*gasp*

I like this picture.

I'm probably happy because of the monkey on my shirt...

I like this picture for some reason...

Heeeey

Seth----

On Some Lonely Island

I was scared to see him walk in and nervous, but he walked in just as much. The alcohol on his breath made me more uneasy. We went into our privacy and sat facing each other. Awkward. I began to shake (and I don't know why I do this around him, as I get nervous) and I'm cold now.
He eventually starts to cry. "This is all bad..." We are bad, us. I tell him it's been bad, we've been bad for so long. Nothing is pretty anymore.
"Do you love me?"
"I don't know."
I'd been doing so good at being emotionless, tried not to cry.
I stared up, cried.
He left me in there, walked away after letting me see him crack. He didn't have the courtesy to watch me fall apart, no. (But eventually, he did...)
I layed in bed, and stopped crying. I went out to the car. I cried more.
Back inside I went. I was tired physically from being so emotionally warped. I went to sleep.
He's in there, I feel him, I hear him. I'm waking up.
Dammit, why? Why can't you just leave me alone? Why are you coming back for more? Why are you going to make it hurt worse, just to shove it back into our faces? Let's leave this to ourselves and cope. We haven't had each other in so long, we don't need each other for this. And I don't know where he left to when he walked out. He had no place to go, for the time being.
"The bluest eyes in Texas are haunting me tonight. Like the stars that fill the midnight sky, his memory fill my mind.
Where did I go wrong? Did I wait too long?"
Goodnight. Good day.
I don't remember which one....

Front of Bart's shirt.

MEEEAN face.

GIGGLE!

Shay told me she wanted to be a model when she grew up.

Those are a pretty set of eyes.

Shayleen is way more gansta than you!

Back of Bart's shirt.

Some of Shayleen's camera work. *giggle*

I'll Keep You My Dirty Little Secret...(hah)

I put on some crazy shoes and wore a psychedelic dress. I expected to maybe drink something from his cheap cups, and yack an ear or two off, whoever decided to do so. Instead, we danced. Why we danced, I don't really know. It seems so bottled, so widely expected and typically done.
I would think it would be awkward.
But he actually danced with me. My hand in his, his other on my hip and mine on his shoulder. We laughed at each other.
We remembered how we used to 'date' back when we were ten. We would chase each other around at church..."You're the only one who needs to know." You wouldn't think I'd be timid to start out with.

"Let me know that I've done wrong. I go around a time or two just to waste my time with you. Tell me all that you've thrown away...I'll keep you my..
Don't tell anyone or you'll be just another regret. I hope that you can keep it. Those thoughts I can't deny. And now I try to lie.
........Who has to know?"

At This Rate, I'll Go Mad

I don't know what to say anymore.
It always helps that you don't say anything back.
I hate my sarcasm.
I'm scared of you.
I'm scared of what I might do.
And you still aren't talking...

Watch The Big Screen

The time between 'then' and 'never' is translucent because I see each as their own. From a 'something' to a 'nothing' and that 'nothing' came with so many topsy-turvy lullabies. My 'then' is now a never, but will center around me forever. It happened. We cannot take it back.
I don't know the reason, but the logic is sensible.
There aren't any memories that I wish back. I used to think I did, and in my mind, it was all I wanted. Sometimes I romance disgusting situations, just to make it sweet.
Or at least in my eyes. Perhaps I do it for my conscience.
And as I'm experiencing, I'm beginning to see how many things are overrated. I'm starting to see how almost everything isn't as important as I once thought.
I've been hit with bricks, and hard, and slapped to reality before, I've got the scars to show off (and the tears stored away with a story). Not a bad thing, simply saying. It's my "doom". What can I say, I've got a hard heart. Serves me right for toying with creation (pro). So with that, my hands hold nothing as they should. "Am I still your charm, or am I just bad luck?"
The thoughts to think rationally go uncirculated in my head. I might as well stop my patterned breathing. (HAH!)
It's probably a better idea to just sleep. I seem to always be awake these days.

rise against.....

"We live on front porches and swing life away,/
We get by just fine here on minimum wage
If love is a labor I'll slave till the end,/
I won't cross these streets until you hold my hand\"