firarae's Xanga

Sunday, December 05, 2004

Sun, 05 Dec 2004 01:58:57 GMT

I'm dropping my Xanga. No one that doesn't check my LJ checks it anymore.

Friday, December 03, 2004

Fri, 03 Dec 2004 17:43:14 GMT

If anyone's been wondering about my lack of entries, if anyone even checks my journal anymore, it's becase of the lack of comments. I have no reason to update for others to read if no one says anything.. It'd be like writing in my real journal. The real one, with paper and pencil, not RealJournal. So come on, it's depressing to not see any replies to my last four entries. At least let me know you're reading this still.

Wednesday, December 01, 2004

Wed, 01 Dec 2004 23:44:09 GMT

Firarae: "Now you know why they don't let women into the military. I mean, a battallion of armed, pre-menstrual women marching across the battlefield, that would scare anyone! And think about it, if there wasn't a fight around, they'd pick one."

"And they'd win."

lacomie: there was a joke about female presidents and that
lacomie: like theyd blow up a country every month or something
lacomie: i would blow up a country just cuz i could. id like pick a little poor place and let everyone stay in really nice places so i could blow up their city or something and make it all pretty and happy
lacomie: i think that would be cool. so much destruction....
Firarae: blow it up does not = pretty or happy.
Firarae: Well, maybe happy
Firarae: but not pretty
lacomie: if i blow it up with a pretty happy bomb
Firarae: I can just see that
Firarae: a nuke with a pink bow tie
Firarae: "Happy birthday Russia!"

I was watching Drawn Together (Comedy Central) it's actually quite funny. But one of the characters (the black-and-white one) has a response to everything that doesn't work. We all remember my "EAT IT!" phase? She did the same thing!

"What are you doing?!?"
*muffled voice* "I'm eating the TV."
"Why?"
"Well, I couldn't find the remote..."

Wednesday, December 01, 2004

Wed, 01 Dec 2004 22:10:46 GMT

"She inhaled her death, and gazed to the object above her
'A black rose', she thought smiling as she remembered it's velvet petals
Her favorite flower, oh, what a delicate, beautiful, vicious flower it was
'The black rose, the flower of sorrow'
She let go of her last breath as she faded into darkness.
Witnessing this, the rose wept the only way it could,
blood dripping from it's petals, soon it too sank to the ground
joining it's admirer in hand..."

Honestly, this was ironic. One of my signs/symbols is a bleeding black rose. That was from my friend Katie, on FictionPress. Wonderful writer, isn't she?

Wednesday, December 01, 2004

Wed, 01 Dec 2004 00:05:24 GMT

http://www.fictionpress.com/read.php?storyid=1772065

My first FictionPress upload! It's just the poem I posted before. But now it's official!

Tuesday, November 30, 2004

Tue, 30 Nov 2004 16:59:04 GMT

*sigh* I wrote it in German.. I was emotionally torn and depressed.. And kind of still am. But I'm better. Ish.

Dawn brightens to day
Why does the anger stay?
Unable to cry
May as well die
As the tears that don't fall go away.

Crimson betrayal
Blossoming, blooming
Scars to unveil
Emotions, looming

Day fades into dusk
A dried, tearless husk
Nothing left, slipping, falling
Climbing back up, slowly, crawling
Not worth the effort, the stress, the strain
I can not cry, yet I feel the pain

Dusk changes to dawn
Evil nightmares spawn
Scary, creepy, never sleepy
Deathly, frozen, yet unchosen

Dusk changes to dawn, dawn brightens to day
Time will go on, time passes away.
Day fades to dusk, yet I forgot night
I'm infected with poison, with plague, with blight

Dusk fades into day
As I turn the page
While the tears go away
But it stays, all-consuming
What remains of this rage.

-Dawn, day, dusk, night

So yeah. I may have found something, Alex.. You remember what you said last night? I found it. Yeah, I know, that was fast, but it's been there all the time. I just never recognized it. I pursued others, never recognizing that I had it... I'll definitely have to see what I can do about this. But I won't be able to do anything about it. Not for now. Or maybe I will. We'll see.

Monday, November 29, 2004

Mon, 29 Nov 2004 17:49:54 GMT

Is it a goal now for me to be unhappy? I would be unusually happy. But no, something always comes along. What the hell did we have that was so special? It was special, but still, not so special that you wouldn't get over it. It's been a month. I mean, come on, how long can it possibly take you to get over it?

You say she's "my world now, and I don't need you now." You make it sound like I was dealing with you just for the relationship we don't have. That seems kinda pointless, doesn't it? She is not my world. I have no world. It's always torn away from me. I can't do anything about it. So I just try to get it back. But no, once again, something else comes along. Thank you Jessi for your amazing talent at bringing me down. I'm glad you didn't forgive me. While I did deserve it, maybe you won't be mad at someone else, instead redirecting your anger at me.

Should I just disappear? Once again, I'm honestly thinking about it. It shouldn't be like this. I shouldn't feel that what I'd lose would be more bad than good. That's what makes me honestly want to cry, to disappear and cry alone. But no, I can't cry. Not going down that road again. Heh. Going down the road.. Not across the lane.

I'm wondering now. What do promises mean to me anymore? The promises I've made people.. They simply come back and kill me later. And the people I promise things, they forsake me in the end, whether by action or inactivity. A call would be nice, in the sense of some people. An email. A letter. Even if it's just "Hi, I'm hoping you're still alive." But no.

Forsaken, forgotten
promises made, broken
What do they mean?
not even a token
Wasted is what I do
all the way through
What do they mean?
Nothing, it seems.

-Nothing

Reflections
ugly, turn away
Rejections
Look back again
break, smash, crush
pieces fall to the floor
glittery, deadly
my face is flush
as I cut myself, cut some more
put the pieces back again
it went crack, shatter, maim
I put it back the way it was
But it'll never be the same.

-Mirror

If anyone really cares, I may not be in school tomorrow.

Monday, November 29, 2004

Mon, 29 Nov 2004 16:44:08 GMT

Wonderous. My life is yet again brought down by the same person. Your apologies mean nothing if you continue to do it. "I'm sorry for hurting you, but I'm going to continue doing it anyway." Anyone else would assume you enjoy blowing me off-course. First, you won't let things in the past die, next, you won't stop nagging, whether you mean to, to rework what we had before, which won't happen, and now, I find myself facing a difficult decision. Either I can make myself unhappy and not be a bit more friendly with them than i am with you, or I can make myself happy and make you cry. Lovely choices, aren't they? My unhappiness, your unhappiness. Mine, yours... Mine, yours.. I know you'll say mine takes precedence, and, regardless of what I actually think, if mine takes precedence, you're unhappy, but if yours takes precedence you're unhappy cause I'm not. Make up your mind. Either make me be unhappy or live with life. Move on. I've told you that before, but you don't seem to listen. You hear me, but my voice is nothing but wind through the trees. It's there but you never listen. Here's a clue. GET OVER ME. I am NOT worth this. It's getting to the point where, to me, this relationship, or what's left of it, isn't worth the stress you're putting us through. If you truly want to rebuild it, then leave it alone. Let the fires burn down before you collect the nails to start again. Going in too early just burns both of us.

Let it die
don't say no
Don't ask why
Let it go
You've burned down the place
Or what's left, to be sure
then you try to save face
Collect all that's fallen
Saving grace
There is no more left
You chased me away
By actions quite deft
And yet you stay?
Leave it alone
Let it die
Let it go
Just say goodbye
Let the fires burn down
you chased me away
drained the cistern
Then you howl and bay
And await my return
I always come back
that's who I am
I don't want to crack
as these floorboards will
Even if I wish
you were never there
I can't help but come back
This is too much to bear

-Let it go

Floors calling
ceiling falling
infernos overtake it all
run away from what has been
and when the fires burn down
come pick up the nails again.

-Leave me

Monday, November 29, 2004

Mon, 29 Nov 2004 03:43:52 GMT

i'm gonna draw a picture
i'll draw it in my wrist
i'll draw it with a razorblade
i'll draw it with a twist
and as i draw this picture
a fountain will appear
and as this fountain flows
all my worries disappear

So creepy... No I didn't write that. But I'm about to idolize it. It's the truth.

Anyway, moving on to a less depressing topic... I was going to finish that quizzy thingy, but I kinda lost my initiative to do it... Maybe later. I need sleep, but oh well. That really wasn't that less depressing.. I apologize for the overall feel of this. I just thought that was really powerful.

On second thought, let's make it a bit more uncomfortable. Only one poem this time, I promise.

Why do I try
to write a piece
a poem, a song
rage to release.
All of it sucks
I can't rhyme a thing
does poetry have to rhyme?
To be powerful, have meaning?
I get inspired to dream
but not all the time
Do I have to think
of the next word to rhyme?
Is that poetry?
Lemon and lime
There I go again
useless rhyming
horrible timing
repeating the concept
again and again.
I don't write poetry.
I write crap, nothing more
that's all it is
wind out the door.

Damnit, alright, one more. I'm feeling pity for myself this morning and I can't get this urge to write something out of my head. I don't know what I need to write.. And I don't think I'll find it tonight.

Mindless, in chaos
Finding a reason
to discontinue this life
what will be used?
A razor? A knife?
Will I be missed?
I know it's possible
what will be blissed
by this departure of mine?
I crept up on stage
they booed, they hissed
I left, a wraith
on silent moonlit night
It felt right.
What can I say?
I fed on their feeling.
Emotion, so pure
mindless and reeling
I know I'm a whore
Some for emotion
a tide unlike all others
Aye, like an ocean
crashes and smothers.
Nowhere to hide, nowhere to run
No more to write
for me, for anyone
So I close this out.
Good night.

I was right.. Still no damn idea what is bothering me. And I can't sleep either, or I'd sleep straight through school. 2 hours before I'm supposed to be up... What is bothering me... Why can't I know...? Maybe nothing's bothering me. And in turn, that gives me a sense of something wrong, some gargantuan shift in the universe that leaves me floating, helpless, subject to the cruel jests of you, them, anyone... This can not be a good way to leave an impression on Emily's sister.

Sunday, November 28, 2004

Sun, 28 Nov 2004 16:39:05 GMT

Argh.. So many updates! But oh well, here's another. Kind of like a survey, kind of not. Or a quiz. Made entirely by me. Any resemblance to any others you may have seen are purely coincidental.

How well do you know me?
All of these questions, unless otherwise marked, pertain to me. Answering humourously instead of seriously is alright if you don't know the answer.

GENERAL
What is(are) my...
Full name -
age -
birthday -
favorite color(s) -
sexual preference (gay, bi, straight) -

Describe me in...
One word label (goth, punk, emo, etc) -
One word -
two words -
three words -

Which of these do I prefer...?
Assassin or warrior -
sweet or sexy -
sexy or pretty -
cats or dogs -
LJ or Xanga -
magic or science -
Coke or Pepsi -
sex or cuddles -
pen or pencil -
Email or regular mail -
guitar or piano -
depressed or happy -
shiny or glittery -
AIM or MSNM -
red or blue -
death or life -
alarm or radio -
driving or walking -
soccer or football -
watching or playing sports -
light or shadow -
fire or water -

SEX LIFE
Am I a virgin?
Do I plan on being a virgin until I'm married?
Why?
Light on or off?
How long before I'll hug someone?
How long before I'll kiss someone?
How long before I'd have sex with someone?
Do I masturbate?
If yes, how often?
If no, do I have a reason and what is it?
Am I kinky?
What is the most sensitive part of me (aside from the obvious)?
Older or younger?
How often do I think about sex?

Ok that's it, I would make it longer but I gotta go now.