Blackbird
I recently listened to a song by the Beatles called Blackbird and for some reason, I liked it, a lot. It's really has a soft and gentle sound to it but the lerics are slightly depressing to me. In my opinion, I think he's singing about death. Death usally is something peacefull for the person dying, that is.
Also, I just got done re-reading one of my favorite books called 'Skinny' by Ibi Kaslik. It's about a girl who develops a eating disorder after her Father dies, and then she dies. It's really kind-of sad, but I like books that. I'm gonna share my favorit part of the book-
"It may seem as if I'm indifferent to my family. Holly makes the case with her huffing and puffing and fighting, she makes the point that I've virtually destroyed us with my breakdown. I'm not indifferent. I know I hurt Mom with it, I see it tugging at her eyes when I leave a half-eaten plate of eggs on the counter, when she collects my clothes from the laundry basket and sees I'm wearing the same holey T-shirts I had when I was fifteen. She would like it if I were bigger, stronger, less prone to colds and hacking coughs. She would like it if I were like other girls and bought new clothes all the time, gained a few extra pounds, for padding, for when I might need another layer between myself and the world. I feel bad for Mom, but I can never tell her, or Holly, that he started it.
He started the whole mess with thoses ice-blue eyes that kept me begging for my right to exsist. Holly doesn't know what it's like to love someone who doesn't care whether you live or die. She doesn't yet realize that love unreturned eventually trasforms into a fierce tangled mess, nerves and entrails exposed like split animal innards. She doesn't understand that sometimes the unrequited must demand reparations, that love can be a mean and spiteful process, that sometimes one loses patience with love. So, when the nerves and guts have seemingly been packed away, swen in and cleaned up so as not to make all the innocent bystanders uncomfortable, the carrier of this love becomes heavy with a toxic lump that grows, slowly and steadily, into a fierce ball of scarred tissue.
Located two ribs below the heart, it is called hate."
Isn't that madd deep?? Anyway, I'm fasting again untill March 2 at 3 A.M, that's Jonah's first birthday! I love that baby!! I'm going to bed now.
Also, I just got done re-reading one of my favorite books called 'Skinny' by Ibi Kaslik. It's about a girl who develops a eating disorder after her Father dies, and then she dies. It's really kind-of sad, but I like books that. I'm gonna share my favorit part of the book-
"It may seem as if I'm indifferent to my family. Holly makes the case with her huffing and puffing and fighting, she makes the point that I've virtually destroyed us with my breakdown. I'm not indifferent. I know I hurt Mom with it, I see it tugging at her eyes when I leave a half-eaten plate of eggs on the counter, when she collects my clothes from the laundry basket and sees I'm wearing the same holey T-shirts I had when I was fifteen. She would like it if I were bigger, stronger, less prone to colds and hacking coughs. She would like it if I were like other girls and bought new clothes all the time, gained a few extra pounds, for padding, for when I might need another layer between myself and the world. I feel bad for Mom, but I can never tell her, or Holly, that he started it.
He started the whole mess with thoses ice-blue eyes that kept me begging for my right to exsist. Holly doesn't know what it's like to love someone who doesn't care whether you live or die. She doesn't yet realize that love unreturned eventually trasforms into a fierce tangled mess, nerves and entrails exposed like split animal innards. She doesn't understand that sometimes the unrequited must demand reparations, that love can be a mean and spiteful process, that sometimes one loses patience with love. So, when the nerves and guts have seemingly been packed away, swen in and cleaned up so as not to make all the innocent bystanders uncomfortable, the carrier of this love becomes heavy with a toxic lump that grows, slowly and steadily, into a fierce ball of scarred tissue.
Located two ribs below the heart, it is called hate."
Isn't that madd deep?? Anyway, I'm fasting again untill March 2 at 3 A.M, that's Jonah's first birthday! I love that baby!! I'm going to bed now.