Question for you all
Be honest and all that coolness. How many of you are behind in your friends journal? If I get like 15 responses from this in like a week, I think that alone gives me my answer. However, if you read this an hour after I post it, I hope you don't respond "Oh yeah, I'm waaaaaaaaaaaaaay behind." Right...
Wow, that was mean. Haha. I don't care. I'm in a mean mood today. The bus fucking forgot me so that's not cool at all.
For those of you wondering: Nope, I didn't kill my grandmother. I almost did, I'll admit, but I held back. She criticized my mother for dating Matt, for wanting to be a writer, for wanting to go back to school, etc. God, she's such a bitch. Can't she just mind her own fucking business?
Well, I'm gonna go write some more. I'm sort of on a "omg, if anybody reads this, they are gonna cry buckets and buckets" kind of kick. It makes me sad just reading it and I know what's going to happen. I probably won't post it. I don't know. It's just not very good, at all.
Ummmm...however, I'm gonna leave you all with a poem I wrote one year ago (almost to the day). It's called Violence
Dark storm clouds gather.
He narrows his steel gray eyes.
The thunder crashes.
Like a bird, she's trapped.
There's no hope of escaping.
The lightning flashes.
He grabs at her wrist.
She calls out but no one's there.
Rain pours from the clouds.
The strong storm ends and,
in the light of the morning,
there are no answers.
Have a nice little afternoon. :-D
Wow, that was mean. Haha. I don't care. I'm in a mean mood today. The bus fucking forgot me so that's not cool at all.
For those of you wondering: Nope, I didn't kill my grandmother. I almost did, I'll admit, but I held back. She criticized my mother for dating Matt, for wanting to be a writer, for wanting to go back to school, etc. God, she's such a bitch. Can't she just mind her own fucking business?
Well, I'm gonna go write some more. I'm sort of on a "omg, if anybody reads this, they are gonna cry buckets and buckets" kind of kick. It makes me sad just reading it and I know what's going to happen. I probably won't post it. I don't know. It's just not very good, at all.
Ummmm...however, I'm gonna leave you all with a poem I wrote one year ago (almost to the day). It's called Violence
Dark storm clouds gather.
He narrows his steel gray eyes.
The thunder crashes.
Like a bird, she's trapped.
There's no hope of escaping.
The lightning flashes.
He grabs at her wrist.
She calls out but no one's there.
Rain pours from the clouds.
The strong storm ends and,
in the light of the morning,
there are no answers.
Have a nice little afternoon. :-D