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LoveMexNOT
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Name: Blair
Country: United States
State: Oklahoma
Birthday: 7/19/1989
Gender: Female
Interests: skateboarding, pisisng of my fellow azians, listening to music, writing, friends, asking myself endless nothings etc. etc.
Expertise: i was born a cancer. sometimes im crazy, sometimes im quiet. i love a lot of people.things.places. i am drawn to really bizarre things. i am not easily amused. i am fascinated by radical ideas about the universe. i like long conversations about nothing. i fall in love too easy. i fall for the wrong people. relationships confuse me but intrigue me all at the same time
Occupation: Other
Industry: Other
Message: message meEmail: email me
AIM:  Dementedangel405
Yahoo:  ur_not_psycho_i_am
Member Since:
11/7/2003
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| People sit with me and complain that I have it made. From the beautiful eyes, to luscious lips, and the softest hair too play with. And the perfect boyfriends. They wish they were me, and I sit there laughing in their face and whispering I'm somebody you dont want to be...
My life that I live is a book with torn pages, written in invisible ink and ready to burn into hell.
I consist of many lies and secrets. Hidden messages between the spoken dialogue, and what is bolded is suppose to ignored yet it captures your eyes. Raised to be a fool, and to fool others. Lived on nothing but loved ones wishing death upon myself, and pain that you have never experienced. Spoiled in boyfriends hands and a disappointment in heavens eyes. Psychologically ill in the head from all the hitting against the walls that wont budge. Easily to be hurt, and is weak in the knees. So easy to sweep away, and take advantage of. I'll let you have your fun, then I'll take revenge. Something far worst than you could ever think about.
Done bad things in my life that I'm ashamed of. From the lieing, drugs, to cheating on boyfriends. I have confessed as God has watched me betray. With both hands crossed behind my back and bitten my lips till the bleed. I'm nothing but a filthy person. But you see I learned it from the ones who have done the same to me in the past, and I have mastered the techinique and art of broken hearts.
Dont worry my writings are always truthful, and from the heart. That's if I have one.. then maybe it from my head.
Its hard to love me, because I like to make things complicated. From the fighting over the smallest part to keeping secrets from others. That's why I can not be so close to someone to call my own. Before I started officially dating I was a flirt, most of the time I didn't even know it. Until my friends would grab me and tell me that he's so falling for you. Then I'd turn into the bitch once I've gotten a hold of your attention, and twist the emotions to slap you across the face.
So please, to save me from the wasting of both of our times ignore my fluttering eyelashes, giggles, to the unstoppable blushing. Just IGNORE it. Really that's how you get my attention, you have to play hard to get.
I am somebody you dont want to be
I have a world record of so beating boys. Totally corrupting them and others. Such as so called 'friends'. You mess with me, I'll tear you apart.
I am somebody I dont want to be
but it seems like when I want to change I cant
The monster insides me gets more evil and hunts for more hearts to bleed
Split into so many personalities you have no idea who's walking in those size 6 shoes. I'll admit it too, I am a bitch there's no doubt about it. My heart is cold like ice and my insults are like pistols.
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| I used relationships to cover the emptiness I held inside of me. Used love as an excuse to live, but that just made me more pathetic. One after another, thinking I was getting stronger, but really weaker. Now I'm weary, and all my lies, cheats, and pain caught up with me.
Lately, I've been looking at pictures, and the memories disappear. It's like a make believe story filled with lies and betrayal, and the sad part is..I'm not even apart of my life. It's like my sickness is slowly eating away my brain, taking me over. I'm feeling like I'm playing a character when I'm out in the world. I feel so fake I can't control this act.
Maybe one day I wish they could see the girl hidden behind the curtains. My eyes are painfully bleeding tears and all the despair. Maybe even get the clue that I really need a friend.
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try to understand me...try...and fail ~
I look at myself in the mirror. I can’t recognize the cheerful little girl smiling back at me, as cliché as it may seem. She seems so happy and prosperous, yet behind those seemingly shallow eyes lurks a lifetime of anger and hurt. Everyone expects me to be the funny teenager they always see, to enjoy every moment of life, but they’ll never understand me. To be quite honest, I don`t understand myself. Here I am, a fourteen year old, intelligent to some extent, no longer alone, with a family she can now call her own, yet the past still seems to conquer the happiness I could be experiencing. I find my dreams replaced with nightmares; thoughts plagued with reminiscence.
I know my childhood terrified me. How I ever survived it, I will never be able to put into words. The thought of my presence today still manages to leave me clueless. It`s something I`ll never be able to explain, something that once seemed impossible, I guess it`s surprising how much a child can accomplish when the world turns it back on you. But that`s all over, right? I`ve grown up now, I`ve prevailed. Look at me; it`s been several years since I last had a real reason to bleed myself. So why, today, do I still discover new scars, cry fresh tears, and silently scream into my pillow? Even now, I shake with hunger for those crimson droplets to break from underneath my skin. Even now, I feel my eyes glisten with the need to cry these gradually escaping tears. And to what do I owe this desperation? Nothing.
"Put the past behind you", a boy once told me. That is the way it should be, I should be able to just let go of yesterday. After all, it is impossible to alter what has already been acted upon. But what should be, can`t be. I can`t forget, no matter the times I’ve tried; no matter the times I`ve forced that smile, no matter the times I`ve fought this anguish, no matter the times I`ve tried to tell myself that I have everything I’ll ever need. My childhood comes back, haunting me. I can still see that tiny eight-year-old, unbearably afraid and lonely, bundled in the corner of my room. I can still feel the compass plunge into my arms. I can still hear the quiet sobs and whimpers that resounded every night back then. I remember the pain of the hopelessness she felt...and I want to tell her not to worry; that one day, she’ll be trouble-free; that in a few years, she’ll have a real reason to smile. But I know I’d be lying, because not once have I managed to achieve what that little girl wanted; the life that all her school friends were blessed with. She wanted an ordinary life, not this pathetic excuse. And like always, I’ve failed her. I’ve failed myself.
So many times I’ve been tempted with the opportunity to leave this world in hope of entering another that’s free of this pain that burdens me. I thank my lucky stars that now, I have found someone to live for – my soul mate. She’ll never understand completely, but she saves my life every single day. She’s the reason why I sit here typing this, instead of lying six feet underground. Yet, no one can cure me of this starvation, this need to release, not even she, the most amazing person I’ve ever encountered. I ask myself repeatedly, "why can’t I just move on?". The answer is an awkward silence.
Some people tell me to just forget, to concentrate on my future, but my past is a part of me. I know I may have suffered, but the suffering will soon fade. If to ease the emotional hurt is to inflict self-harm, then I will be tortured with my own antidote. Whatever I am in my present, I owe to my past, to that tiny eight-year-old. I know, one day, I will make something of this mess I’m in. I know I can carry on this life, however difficult it may be. It’s taken years for the pain to ease the slightest. It will take a few more years for me to smile with real reason and it’s just a matter of time before I can put down this blade and face tomorrow. It’s just a matter of time... | |
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| your unwritten letter, sent;
i'm so sorry that i tore your heart apart last night
and i'm sorry if i start to again, today.
language;
thoughtful . personification . classify . sailor's route . standings amidst rain . damn demanding . let go . pick up the phone . collar bones . asterisks . summer afternoons . sixteen junes . wedding without a groom . desert without the sand . woman without a man . ring without a hand . missing you .
unwritten;
love isn't for me and you . oscars . colons . backlashes . actors in a world of sin . piano keys . fluttering eyelashes . better off separated . gulping swallows . open doors . packed luggages . last glimpses . changing your minds . hesitation . understanding man . wrapped wires . entwined fingertips . 24 hour time . i don't wanna be lonely . days without you .
what do you do
when the only person
who can make you smile
is also the only one
who can make you cry
//
I don't feel like thinking anymore. Thinking hurts the cranium. Leaving you behind was harder than anything I had ever done. It wasn't the leaving behind that one can help, one can change their mind about, or one can just unexpectingly call and hope for make-up kisses. It was the sort of leaving that involved two oceans apart, two continents apart, and an airplane that made me airsick. These tears over you, that's what makes me sick.
I try not to look at your pictures, the things you've given me, your simple two-paged letter. I try not to think about what happened, the nights, the days, the waterfalls, the laughs, the jealousy, the hurt. You're so far away. I've stopped missing you. On most days anyway.
(*)
i'm the desert without the sand
i'm missing you | | |
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Thanks Demo!!! for making my border and letting me borrow his lovely lovely cam :D | | |
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