tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55665600017070148212024-02-18T21:26:02.850-08:00Dear Diary20 y/o girl spills stuff about her life that she can't do on her other blog, freely and uncensored. Enjoy.KGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02369444377166045074noreply@blogger.comBlogger27125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5566560001707014821.post-41428856483136901932010-10-10T02:26:00.000-07:002010-10-10T02:26:49.545-07:00Your heartbeat is my lullaby.I listen to your songs until I go numb<br />
You sing my truth, you sing my pain<br />
You try and give my tragedy a name<br />
<br />
How can I forgive you so easily<br />
How can I forgive me<br />
I willed this to happen<br />
My tragedy<br />
<br />
There is no kindness that can heal<br />
There is no remedy I can steal<br />
There is only time to smile and weep<br />
While your heart lulls me to sleep<br />
<br />
You wait for this to pass<br />
While I dread the day<br />
I wish that I could blame you<br />
But it's my lack of strength<br />
<br />
<br />
How can I forgive you so easily<br />
How can I forgive me<br />
I willed this to happen<br />
My tragedy<br />
<br />
<br />
There is no kindness that can heal<br />
There is no remedy I can steal<br />
There is only time to smile and weep<br />
While your heart lulls me to sleep<br />
<br />
I'm sorry<br />
I'm sorry<br />
I'm sorry<br />
(We'll meet again someday)<br />
<br />
There is no kindness that can heal<br />
There is no remedy I can steal<br />
There is only time to smile and weep<br />
While your heart lulls me to sleepKGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02369444377166045074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5566560001707014821.post-13509495647244143842010-09-26T12:46:00.000-07:002010-09-26T12:46:03.582-07:00It happened.<br />
Such a mistake against odds so great, you would think this is meant to be.<br />
But I'm up against a wall with the whole world against me. Us.<br />
At first I was scared. And now I've fallen in a hole so deep, I don't know if I can ever climb out.<br />
I cry day in, day out, and even though I know I cannot keep her, I'm still happy she's with me.<br />
I wish I was brave enough go it on my own. I wish I wasn't given ultimatums. I wish he wouldn't make me have to choose. I wish he would support me. I wish we could all be together. I wish he wouldn't want to leave me. I wish I could do what he wants because I want to. I wish I didn't love him as much as I do, I wish he loved me more.<br />
<br />
God, I wish someone could help me.KGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02369444377166045074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5566560001707014821.post-17691052259223005752010-08-08T16:06:00.000-07:002010-08-08T16:06:31.151-07:00Fuck being passionate.I have to admit: when it comes to civil rights and discrimination -- or, simply put, political issues -- I'm one of those annoying, shove-the-issue-down-your-throat-if-you-disagree-with-me kind of people.<br />
<br />
It's something I'm extremely passionate about, albeit irritating to others and, most times, having no effect on me. I'm one of the biggest supporters of gay marriage, legalizing marijuana (even though I've never smoked it), against SB1070, being pro-choice, and saving the environment.<br />
<br />
The thing is, I have a hard time splitting myself from the issue, as well as other people. Yeah, that seems confusing, but, for example, if I find out that boyfriend's parents discriminate against homosexuals and don't believe in gay marriage, I basically start hating their guts. Which is actually happening.<br />
<br />
Does that make me a bitch?<br />
<br />
I have no idea, but, honestly I can't say I care all that much.<br />
<br />
Some may say that I'm discriminating against them because of their beliefs just like they're doing. That's a very good point, one that I really can't refute, and it pisses me off that I can't justify my actions this time. But I feel obligated to defend those whom are being... well, not persecuted, but those in the minority, I guess.<br />
<br />
It doesn't help that I really couldn't stand the people to begin with, either. I'm sorry, but, honestly, they aren't very nice people, even aside from their beliefs. They're very selfish, and, frankly, it's hard to be nice to someone you've seen treating your boyfriend like shit numerous times. That's not okay with me. <br />
<br />
Yet, for my boyfriend's sake, I really need to look at my behavior differently. I may be a crazy activist girl, but I also don't want to further hurt my babe's relationship with his family. He already severed contact with his aunt and uncle because of me (even though he claims otherwise; yet, when they tell him not to get tied up with a girl that looks like me -- chubby, and of mixed race -- and when he says no, they stop talking, I had to assume it was me, right?) and since I'm over at his parents' place all the time, it would be unwise for me to continue what I'm doing.<br />
<br />
I just can't swallow my pride on this one. I'm so confused as to what to do.KGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02369444377166045074noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5566560001707014821.post-71959045428009991162010-08-07T02:53:00.000-07:002010-08-07T02:55:22.423-07:00I wish I could rip my heart out of my chest, then maybe I would get some relief from this constant heaviness weighing me down. I can't live my life and I can't work without reminders. I can't sleep without the dreams that taunt me. I simply can't just be. I'm so mixed up. I've tried and failed countless times to snap myself out of this nightmare and give up this terrible longing. I feel so very, very lonely. I feel so jealous when I see all these other young women who have what I so desperately want. Every night I cry, and every day I live, waiting for the end of the day so I could just release it all. I want to lay in bed all day and cry. I want to go to sleep and wake up to the day that I finally have something I feel I can live for. This endless waiting is taunting me. I'm so miserable I can't stand it. I've talked to everybody I could, but the only person that can fix this is me. But I can't fix it. It's a part of me, this longing, this need. I'm so embarrassed and ashamed, yet this desperate wanting is quickly turning into a need. There is no escape.<br />
<br />
I'm too young for this.<br />
So why do I feel like I'm running out of time? :[KGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02369444377166045074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5566560001707014821.post-76624761784799363012010-05-28T01:16:00.000-07:002010-05-28T01:16:44.830-07:00Starcrossed.If I could, I would paint the world over<br />
So you could see the billion shades of gray<br />
The lines you see are all an illusion<br />
Drawn to keep your mind under lock and key<br />
<br />
One day this will all come crashing down<br />
Stars from the heavens spilling to make you see<br />
The hot brands cause a pain that scars<br />
And they spell your name, the blame, the shame<br />
<br />
If we were all meant to be the same<br />
Then why are we all so differently beautiful<br />
Woe falls on those who take but do not give<br />
Starcrossed are those born under this sky<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
One day this will all come crashing down<br />
Stars from the heavens spilling to make you see<br />
The hot brands cause a pain that scars<br />
And they spell your name, the blame, the shameKGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02369444377166045074noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5566560001707014821.post-2118994799992128672010-05-03T01:47:00.000-07:002010-05-03T01:47:05.298-07:00Wowwww.You know you're desperate when you find yourself chatting with an online "psychic" at 1 in the morning.<br />
HA, who woulda thunk it?<br />
<br />
Not me, that's for sure.<br />
<br />
But hey, you never know.<br />
It was fun for what it was.<br />
But you know what sucks?<br />
Right when my money ran out, she started getting into the juicy stuff, like how many kids I was going to have and what not... and then ding! Money out. >:-[ And there was no fucking way in hell I was going to pay $5 a min for what she had to say.<br />
<br />
At least, not til I get paid.KGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02369444377166045074noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5566560001707014821.post-51784975261981604942010-05-01T13:10:00.000-07:002010-05-01T13:10:02.769-07:00PrayerMy voice resounds like broken bells in domes of churches<br />
It would shatter glass if someone heard it<br />
I kneel, I bleed, my repentance<br />
For sins unsaid, with lowered head, I wait for forgiveness<br />
<br />
Leave my every leaf unturned<br />
Let me rise to fall again<br />
It’s what I deserve in the end<br />
If I refuse to fight<br />
Will that suffice, my atonement?<br />
Save me before sin begins, before it wins<br />
Amen<br />
<br />
It begins with a joy, pure and new<br />
Swiftly the apple starts to shine<br />
Before long the hole in your chest starts to ache<br />
As the serpent makes its way inside<br />
You find you have nowhere to hide<br />
<br />
A sudden spark springs to sleeping psychosis<br />
Buried beneath what once sufficed<br />
Desperation drags the darkness to the surface<br />
To shatter mirrors, mirror matters ever madder <br />
<br />
Leave my every leaf unturned<br />
Let me rise to fall again<br />
It’s what I deserve in the end<br />
If I refuse to fight<br />
Will that suffice, my atonement?<br />
Save me before sin begins, before it wins<br />
Amen<br />
<br />
Can you help me?<br />
Confession never felt like this<br />
Not quite painful and not full of bliss<br />
Can you save me?<br />
Save me from what I’m to become<br />
Before what’s left of me is none <br />
<br />
This is my last prayer<br />
One final plea left to exchange<br />
All I have to give is yours if you forgive<br />
Me, If I refuse to fight<br />
Will that suffice?<br />
Will that suffice?<br />
Amen<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
(Yeah, these are lyrics/a poem. Make of it what you will.)KGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02369444377166045074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5566560001707014821.post-63047127928404229002010-04-24T16:12:00.000-07:002010-04-24T16:12:48.248-07:00...And it starts again.I just got back from a day in San Diego with my boyfriend.<br />
It was nearly a perfect mini vacation (traffic was a bitch. On PMS).<br />
I just got home and, of course, stuff starts getting fucked up again, like it usually does around here: people reply "I don't know" to everything, the bad moods are back, his family goes back to fucking up our plans.<br />
<br />
Oh, it's <i>so good</i> to be home. :-/KGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02369444377166045074noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5566560001707014821.post-91132466452791740572010-04-16T23:52:00.000-07:002010-04-16T23:53:30.721-07:00Ticked.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i10.photobucket.com/albums/a125/sweetmusician28/24mezau.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://i10.photobucket.com/albums/a125/sweetmusician28/24mezau.gif" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Alriiiiight. Gonna be doin a bit of complaining here -- just warnin' ya in case you want to skedaddle before I start in... Ok, then, on your own head be it.</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I have fallen ill with the worst case of baby fever imaginable. I have a few friends with kids, and every time they post pictures on facebook, I just turn into this big ball of mush... And then I start getting the "Omgz I want a baby!" thoughts and the sad/empty womb pangs. It's attractive. I tried talking to my boyfriend about it, but the only thing it does is freak him out. Yeah, I gotta find a hobby.</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Speaking of the Boy, I was pretty miffed at him earlier. Maybe I'm a little too sensitive, but I think it's kind of lame when your boyfriend kicks you out to watch a TV show. I mean, you have DVR, son! >:-[ And, he didn't kick me out per se, but he said "we can do whatever you want. Just not ____, ______, _____, etc." Great. So watch your show or leave, is that it? Reallll cool. Am I wrong to be slightly pissed at that? I don't know. I was regardless, though haha.</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Oh, and my ovaries hurt. Damn PCOS.</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I gotta work out, but I'm a real lazy ass, honestly. I need a gym buddy.</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Goddamn, this is turning into a list, huh? I should stop now. I swear, I'll blog about something meaningful quite soon. I just had to vent juuust a bit here. </div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">That's all, folks<3</div>KGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02369444377166045074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5566560001707014821.post-38786095542114166792010-04-16T01:05:00.000-07:002010-04-16T01:06:29.266-07:00Oh my damn.<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="http://i10.photobucket.com/albums/a125/sweetmusician28/7f689ffb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://i10.photobucket.com/albums/a125/sweetmusician28/7f689ffb.jpg" /></a>So there has been a bit of facebook stalking goin on around here lately, I must admit.</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">But really, I happened upon some profiles of old junior high classmates...</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">And WHAT THE HELL? When did all these little dorky boys become steamy, sweet-faced heartthrobs?</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Um, wow.</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I really missed out :[</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Haha. Damn, but Time sure is kind to some folks, huh?</div>KGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02369444377166045074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5566560001707014821.post-57892115315189318492010-04-12T23:48:00.000-07:002010-04-12T23:49:24.315-07:00Tick tock.No, I'm not referring to the song by Ke$ha, even though I have to admit, it's really catchy.<br />
That's the sound of the minutes until my psychology test ticking away... And I've yet to study.<br />
Man. I wish I could major in procrastination. I'm so damn good at it.KGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02369444377166045074noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5566560001707014821.post-6131696131982275642010-04-12T23:25:00.000-07:002010-04-12T23:50:05.862-07:00Spiel: Atheism.So, instead of studying for my test tomorrow, I wrote about being an atheist instead.<br />
Wanna read it? Click<i> <a href="http://sunnykss.blogspot.com/2010/04/on-being-atheist.html">here</a></i>. :]KGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02369444377166045074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5566560001707014821.post-86725318414324619642010-04-12T02:43:00.000-07:002010-04-12T02:46:46.795-07:00Sleep is for the weak.<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I cannot get off of this damn laptop and I <i>really</i> need to freakin sleep. Last night I went to bed at 4 am. The day before that? 5:15 am. Man, I'm a trooper.</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">No, really, I do need to sleep. The bags under my eyes are begging me. But nahhhh. Sleep is for the weak. Like I said, I'm a trooper.</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Besides I don't have class tomorrow until 3 pm. Woot woot!</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">I just need to write. Honestly. I've been addicted to 20 Something Bloggers like a baby on candy, and I look like such a n00b. I am, but who cares? I can still look spiffy. But content is lacking :[</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Soooooooo here we are. Now. What to write... *crickets*</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Yup. I guess that's how it's gonna be tonight. Go figuuuuuuuuuuuuuure. I meant those u's too. My brain said it like "go fig-yoooooor." Emphasis on the "yooor."</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Alright, let's do this then. Lists. They're what I'm good at.</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">To Do:</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">1. Pick up B.C. from the pharmacy FOR GOD'S SAKE. Don't want munchkins running around. Yet.</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/29126496@N06/3719145047/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2574/3719145047_3c4faeb105.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>2. Sleep. Duh. I should go now. Must finish list first.</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">3. Bring Zoey in to test for Beak and Feather disease. Very important.</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">4. STUDY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I would put more exclamation marks, but I'm annoyed with that many as it is.</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">5. Schedule teeth cleaning before the dentist whoops my ass.</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">6. Wash my car. Once the rain stops, that is.</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">7. Take all the junk out of my car.</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">8. Charge camera. Aim to start 365 project. (<--- HAHAHA. If I can get my lazy ass to do that, I'll buy you each a candy bar. That's a promise.)</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Ok, it's officially sleep time.</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Phew.</div>KGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02369444377166045074noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5566560001707014821.post-5571897603015416732010-04-10T05:04:00.000-07:002010-04-12T00:53:32.331-07:00Knees.<h3 class="post-title entry-title"></h3><div class="post-header"></div><div class="post-body entry-content">Your kiss can bring me to my knees.<br />
The knees you pushed me down upon yesterday, with your words.<br />
The ones I stayed down on, scraped and bruising, hurting elsewhere. <br />
The same knees you cleaned off with <i>I'm Sorry</i>s and tenderness.<br />
And then you kiss me, and I'm down on them again.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i10.photobucket.com/albums/a125/sweetmusician28/20090819212758.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://i10.photobucket.com/albums/a125/sweetmusician28/20090819212758.jpg" /></a></div><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">I liked this so much, I took this from my other blog, </span></i><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://sunnykss.blogspot.com/">Open Secrets</a><i>, and put it here as well.</i></span><br />
<i><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> </span></i></div>KGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02369444377166045074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5566560001707014821.post-62389722435588730072010-04-10T00:47:00.000-07:002010-04-11T23:50:30.575-07:00Phew.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/ieatstars/2807878773/"><img border="0" height="270" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3242/2807878773_820bb256d5.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;">A good roll in the hay was <i>just</i> what I needed today.</div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;">I feel so much better, and we're so much closer now.</div>KGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02369444377166045074noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5566560001707014821.post-60497207132340431672010-04-09T01:43:00.001-07:002010-04-09T02:10:12.525-07:00This calms me down.<span style="font-family: times new roman;">My mom used to have so many CDs filled with Andean music.. I wonder where they all went.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: times new roman;">This is one of the prettiest songs.</span><br />
<br />
<object height="284" width="350"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/M_gSydN_BYM&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0xe1600f&color2=0xfebd01&border=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/M_gSydN_BYM&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0xe1600f&color2=0xfebd01&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="350" height="284"></embed></object>KGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02369444377166045074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5566560001707014821.post-78225257708053745822010-04-08T16:21:00.000-07:002010-04-09T00:08:43.396-07:00I'm a walking contradiction.<span style="font-family:times new roman;">I am, really. </span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I have always been known to be the "good girl" in my circle of friends, and yet, no one knows that I curse like a sailor and am in love with tattoos.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I love singing and being in the spotlight, yet in a group, I'm the quiet, shy listener.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I hate competition, but I love winning, and I always root for the underdog.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I don't think there's anywhere else I'd be more inclined to live than SoCal, yet I detest hot, sunny weather.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I'm best suited to be a country singer, yet that's what I'd least like to do.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I love the beach, but hate swimming in the ocean.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">English is my forte, I suck at math, and I want to be a surgeon.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I'm an atheist, yet I defend religious people against the harsh words of my even more dedicated atheist boyfriend.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I don't agree with cloning, but I am all for genetic engineering.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I always want to go places, but when I arrive, I can never wait to go home.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I have accounts on Twitter, Facebook, Myspace, Blogspot, Netlog, and Formspring, but I don't think I've ever been lonelier. </span>KGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02369444377166045074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5566560001707014821.post-63510383065390260392010-04-08T15:35:00.000-07:002010-04-08T15:59:33.714-07:00I miss you.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i0006.photobucket.com/albums/0006/findstuff22/Best%20Images/Love/I_miss_you__by_Icecubed171.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 250px;" src="http://i0006.photobucket.com/albums/0006/findstuff22/Best%20Images/Love/I_miss_you__by_Icecubed171.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:times new roman;">It's not like you went anywhere.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">We still do the things we always do. I see you almost every day. Yet, I feel different.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I miss the days when we were fifteen and sixteen, best friends, and figuring out how everything worked, figuring out ourselves. We're still changing, but it's different. I don't see everything out of rose-colored glasses anymore. I have burdens, illegitimate burdens, the kind that you don't see but that eat you from the inside out. You have burdens, the kind that weigh down your heart with worry and leave you awake at night. The kind that you can one day rid. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I wonder where these years went. Three years, now that's a long time, love. I'm twenty. I'm still young but for some reason, today, I feel old. </span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I miss high school, and the days when we'd walk back to my house, and play and sleep and sometimes discover what a couple would do with their bodies, alone.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I know that you'd cringe if you knew that I was writing about this on the internet, and I'm feeling kind of ashamed that I'm doing it anyway.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I wonder why I feel different, like I don't have all these opportunities at my fingertips, when, really, I do. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I don't even know where this entry is going. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">What did we do within these three years? We grew up, and yet we didn't. </span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">And now I have to face the fact that we've only grown apart in my eyes, and only because of me. In reality, we are how we've always been. Am I imagining things? Am I being melodramatic? I don't know.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">All I know is that, right now, I want you. I want to be with you, alone, in the middle of the day with the sunlight streaming through or the rain pounding against the roof of wherever we are, and I want to tumble with you between pristine white sheets and map the terrain of your body, sticky, sweaty, and you. I want to kiss your neck, the soft space that I love to feel. I want to feel you blindly, and know that this is right. I want you to make me feel whole again, like you used to, make me forget the empty ache eating me inside, with sweet soft words pressed against my ear.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I miss that, sweetheart.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I miss you. ★<br /></span>KGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02369444377166045074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5566560001707014821.post-38934294228995699712010-04-08T15:07:00.001-07:002010-04-08T15:22:31.882-07:00Fear.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/paytonsphotos/3964370751/"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 375px; height: 375px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3454/3964370751_0da96cd857.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Last night I finally told me what was bugging me these past few days, though I didn't tell him that it's been bugging me for that long.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I told him that I didn't know if I wanted to be with him for much longer. I told him of my pent-up anger, my jealousy, my loneliness. I told him how I couldn't just watch him do something I so desperately want to be a part of, knowing that I will never be. I told him of how I wonder if there is someone better out there for me, if there is a guy that would love me more. I told him how angry I was that love isn't how they make it out to be in movies, or in books.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I didn't tell him that I was scared of letting go.</span> <span style="font-family:times new roman;"><br />I didn't tell him that, really, I want to let go of him and see new things, meet new people, try to find out if a wild and passionate love really does exist.</span> <span style="font-family:times new roman;"><br />I didn't tell him. I didn't tell him, and so I stayed.</span>KGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02369444377166045074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5566560001707014821.post-34001774242599585762010-04-08T14:54:00.000-07:002010-04-08T15:29:47.247-07:00The calls.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/ar_photography/3271137698/"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 390px; height: 378px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3529/3271137698_63646e6332.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">My phone rang three times today, while I was napping, from a number I did not readily recognize.</span> <span style="font-family:times new roman;"><br />The first time, I hit the </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" >talk</span><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> button and then hung up, so that the ringing wouldn't wake up my father.</span> <span style="font-family:times new roman;"><br />The second time I picked up, I whispered a "Hello?"</span> <span style="font-family:times new roman;">I was asked whether to accept a collect call from someone whose name was poorly recorded I couldn't make out what I had just heard, and told that the call was coming from a prison. I hung up.</span> <span style="font-family:times new roman;"><br />The third time, I was ready, hoping that this time I would be able to make out the name of the person. I couldn't. Still, I stayed on the line until the call was disconnected from the other end.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I turned over and waited to for sleep to come, only capable of wondering what poor soul I had just hung up on.</span>KGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02369444377166045074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5566560001707014821.post-68899498728816723662010-03-30T23:54:00.000-07:002010-04-08T15:30:25.443-07:00Names.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/thevintagelaundry/4313357621/"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 397px; height: 273px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2725/4313357621_04b6587c06.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:100%;">And I most certainly am. I promised myself I wouldn't, but I'm going to anyway. God. Oh well. When I get bored, I try to come up with potential names for my future kids because I have some weird obsession with names. Here's my list:<br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;"></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" >Girl:</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Aine (Anya/Anja)</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Celeste</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Marina</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Elizabeth</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Rose</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Alana</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Ingrid</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Melody</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Delphine</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Amaranth</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Aveline</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Aurora</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Sunniva</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Freya</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Avalon (Avylon/Avylanna)</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Leah (Lya, Liah, Lia, Leigha)</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Leana</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Kryssa</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Keira</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Skyla</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Chyla</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Gwenavire</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Isla</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Ivy</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Starleigh</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Summer</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Scarlette</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Kahla</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br />Alanna<br />Sun<br />Alexandra<br />Aisling<br />*Charlize<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Full Names:</span><br />Sun Marie<br />Layla Kayleigh<br />Ciela Nicolina<br />Sophie Jean<br />Ariella Celeste<br />*Alanna Selene<br />*Summer Rose<br />Mischa Rose<br />*Freya Therese<br />Charlize Christine<br />Ingrid Alexandra<br />Leana Marine<br />Marina Rose<br />Isla Charlise<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" >Boy: </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Derek</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Chance</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">*Alexander</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Cedric</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Constantine</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Kegan</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Rylie</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Rusty</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Avalon</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Skylar</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Skye</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">*Felix</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">*Brody</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Tristan</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Bay</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Erling</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Fairleigh</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Raleigh</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Jack</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br />Leon<br />Brean (bree-in)<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Full Names:</span><br />*William Alexander<br />Derek Brean<br />*Felix MacKenzie<br />*Nikolai Leon<br />Alexander Skye<br />Avylon Brody<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">* indicates favorites</span></span><br /></div></div>KGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02369444377166045074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5566560001707014821.post-30690503766444774192010-03-26T00:53:00.000-07:002010-04-08T15:30:58.552-07:00I will not.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjik1zn276vXXmJ5LedR7wMCjGbgF3UOk8Mlw5hNkhUwVvtoiT1gcOWNHUn8HHTXyZXIwuWXWNJUofpvWV-AepyO8hIDzg5FS3Ltwry1qgIJNOlqg7FN0Dj1eToeY4Q_bwmlNgVqlxSgkto/s1600/500591110_274da97e24.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 288px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjik1zn276vXXmJ5LedR7wMCjGbgF3UOk8Mlw5hNkhUwVvtoiT1gcOWNHUn8HHTXyZXIwuWXWNJUofpvWV-AepyO8hIDzg5FS3Ltwry1qgIJNOlqg7FN0Dj1eToeY4Q_bwmlNgVqlxSgkto/s320/500591110_274da97e24.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452848308918751730" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I will not think of babies.</span> <span style="font-family:times new roman;">I will not think of babies.</span> <span style="font-family:times new roman;">I will not think of babies.</span> <span style="font-family:times new roman;">I could go on and on. I have this crazy weird baby fever. I'm too young to be feeling that, but, congrats, I'm obsessed anyway.</span> <span style="font-family:times new roman;">I will not think of babies. I will not think of babies.. I will not think of babies...</span>KGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02369444377166045074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5566560001707014821.post-17875249664697888772010-03-24T00:15:00.000-07:002010-04-08T15:31:39.160-07:00Psst..<span style="font-family:times new roman;">Sometimes I think of what it would be like if we both looked different.</span><br /><div style="text-align: right; font-family: times new roman;">if he had chosen me and you hadn't.<br />if maybe I could feel what it's like with someone else.<br />if you were to marry me today, if we would last.<br />if I had never met you.<br />if you were a father.<br />if you really knew all the things I think about... and if you'd still love me.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i10.photobucket.com/albums/a125/sweetmusician28/shhh.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 462px; height: 185px;" src="http://i10.photobucket.com/albums/a125/sweetmusician28/shhh.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /></div>KGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02369444377166045074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5566560001707014821.post-26559214357753516622010-03-24T00:10:00.000-07:002010-04-08T15:32:13.367-07:00Hot Damn.<div style="text-align: center; font-family: times new roman;">Is this not the sexiest thing you have ever seen?<br /></div><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> </span><a style="font-family: times new roman;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i718.photobucket.com/albums/ww188/snowflakee_2009/tattoos.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 359px; height: 264px;" src="http://i718.photobucket.com/albums/ww188/snowflakee_2009/tattoos.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-family: times new roman;">Well, I don't care.<br />I think it's hawtt. ;-)<br /><br />Now if only I could convince my boyfriend to get some...<br /></div>KGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02369444377166045074noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5566560001707014821.post-77519454475889971512010-03-23T23:46:00.001-07:002010-04-08T15:32:50.456-07:00Today was just one of those days :[<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w147/kay_dheezy/badday.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 100px; height: 100px;" src="http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w147/kay_dheezy/badday.gif" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Today sucked b/c:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">1. I was running on 4 hrs of sleep and so I was incredibly sleepy and irritable. Yeah, that turns mild me into </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" >Hi, I'm bitchy today. Leave me alone.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">2. As much as I tried to nap after class this morning, I couldn't fall asleep for anything. Well, that might have been due to the fact that my boyfriend was watching poker on TV and insisted on commenting on it and asking me repeatedly if I was asleep. Thanks, babe.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">3. Though work was alright for the most part, I was bummed toward the e</span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">nd. I swear, you give kids an inch and they'll take a mile from you. I did them a favor and I got trampled on. I yelled at them for it, though, which evened things out a bit.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">4. I had to work my second job right after my first... Never fun, but get this: I get to the place I have to audit today and lo and behold! I brought the wrong equipment. You may think this is stupid on my part, but no, I checked to make sure I had the right machine, but no. Apparently more than 1 Ralph's Grocery Store is located on that street. Whoopie. So home and back and THEN I finally started working.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">5. People drive like idiots and assholes, and they honk at you and cut you off because they want to. Um, who the fuck gave you </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" >your</span><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> license, jerk off?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">6. My mother threw a fit when I left the house to watch </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" >Lost</span><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> with my boyfriend... Like I do every Tuesday. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Jeez, everything went against me today.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Cue the world's biggest violin. It's ok.<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i102.photobucket.com/albums/m111/harmonyakaj/extras/violin.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="http://i102.photobucket.com/albums/m111/harmonyakaj/extras/violin.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>KGirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02369444377166045074noreply@blogger.com0