Latest Blog Entries

 

End game		3.14.2010
	by: Dismantled_soul from:
i know not what will become of the future, One can only hope for the best, But its better to realise that the best is usually for the worst. In the end it is just you who betrayed yourself, In the end it is yourself that caused your fears to rise up, In the end at least there is darkness, The end game comes....
current mood: destroyed current music: Sacrifice - Astetic Perfection the time: 12:23am (EST)
[reply] [0 comments]

Zombie March		3.13.2010
	by: MegZ from: rants..raves...and everything else
So at the end of the month in Boston supposedly there's going to be a zombie march. And Im excited as hell since it'll be my first one. Just not sure what type of zombie I should be T_T There's school girl zombie nurse zombie stripper zombie punk zombie goth zombie Anything Im missing? *flails* If I can, im going to head down to R.I. and do some shopping for it with a friend :3 and then once thats out of the way...get the makeup I need to look all dead <3
current mood: tired and happy current music: nothing right now the time: 11:56pm (EST)
[reply] [0 comments]

too much of anything is too much		3.13.2010
	by: Incinerate from: analrape
current mood: asleep current music: not sure the time: 11:49pm (EST)
[reply] [0 comments]

note to self		3.13.2010
	by: Incinerate from: analrape
naomi, it'll take me another 500 years to understand a purpose for your life to make sense of why the fuck you're here. you're nothing a waste of this air we breathe. you make me sick. the way you move. the way you talk. how you wonder what makes you so goddamn special you're not. it's simple and tasteless. only an accord of what's beneath you can be ripped to shreds. in front of my eyes intestines spill onto the pavement your head smashed in blood stains everything it's only red smears of it across my face. my lips. you taste like copper. i vomit pretending i like seeing your remains strewn about. but im only human just like you were. before you weren't anymore. now you're a carcus. at least now you have a purpose. the vultures won't go hungry. love, naomi
current mood: ? current music: brand new the time: 10:52pm (EST)
[reply] [0 comments]

eye opener		3.13.2010
	by: Incinerate from: analrape
"It scared me." "What did?" "When you cried like that." "Why?" "Because I didn't know what to do." "Oh.. " "You never cry." "I know." "But it was a good thing too." "Why's that?" "Because it reminds me that you're human. With you, I kind of forget that sometimes." naomi, wren
current mood: sleepy current music: linkin park the time: 10:40pm (EST)
[reply] [0 comments]

		3.13.2010
	by: Murder_ from:
hey people. new here lol but anyways,, --- so, everything seems to be working out better than i thought it would. for once i feel like my life is starting to fall together instead of apart. --- and there's this girl who i'm really into. she's into me too but sometimes it's like she thinks i'm playing her. it kills me. i kinda hope she doesn't read this cuz i don't want her to get mad i'm talking about it but i feel like it has to be said. --- i want to be with her but we really need to take our time. we've both just come out of serious long-term relationships that were abusive and rushing into love isn't the best idea for either one of us right now, you know? --- i think i love her. seriously. --- on another note, i'm just glad to be alive. and i can't wait to leave this hell. i plan to move closer to her soon. possibly move in with her? who knows. --- yeah, my first blog lol i'm so lame. haha
current mood: baby, i need my medicine. current music: sky is the limit - lil wayne the time: 9:22pm (EST)
[reply] [0 comments]

a comment from sick.bubblegum; my sissy kayluhh.		3.13.2010
	by: Muffin_ from: in.my.lil.world.
APRIL-MAE: I love you so much sister, you are the one person that can always make me smile when I want to cry! You are the best I could ever ask for in a sister. You are more than amazing! Love, love, love you!
current mood: i miss her. & love her current music: black and white the time: 6:50pm (EST)
[reply] [0 comments]

Muddy Viens		3.13.2010
	by: skylitshelby from: Psycho Babble Bullshit
I guess I don't really have a reason to write this. Words gather inside my mind like a descriptive tumor. The problem is I never write out the words just right. I've tried writing several poems and short stories, but they all leave me unsatisfied. An aspiration of mine is to write a story that is full of the real world. That will never happen, though, so I'll disappoint you with this. I will steal everything that you hold close. Your love and your hate. Your hope and your despair. Your laughs and your tears. I will devour all of you, and you will sit and beg me to continue. I will leave you nothng but a shell, and you will thank me. Maybe feeling nothing is better. Better. That's the word that will ring through your ears, before I devour that, too. Better. Better than the shit hole you're in. I'm your angel. I'm your devil. Most of all, I'm your drug. Inject me into your life. I'll blossom and expand, then no one can stop you and I. You're just a beautiful shell. Then I'll leave you to die. "Life must be on repeat, eh?" I smiled at him. It was the same as yesterday. Sitting in his basement. The cool air softly suggesting we move closer. His eyes had a deep purple ring underneath them. He was always so mellow, and I loved him for it. "Just press the eject button." the needle carassed his vein. His eyes rolled in the back of his head he smiled so truly. "Give me some, fool." I grabbed for the syringe. My veins sighed with euphoria.Our arms were like connect the dots, with scabbed circles up and down, all around. I yearned to lean my head on his shoulder. His hair was straight and long. It was a deep, raven black. His eyes were a blue that took your breath away so hard you started to suffocate. He was amazing. "Do you find it ironic your name is Heroine?" he asked this question at every basement sitting. "Do you find it ironic I don't give a fuck about my name?" my answer was always the same out loud. Inside my head though it was, "Do you find it ironic that you love heroine, and I love you?" Yes. I did love him. He was a friend, though. A junky friend. We were the only two in school who were addicted heroine.We always pooled our money together to get a decent amount. We shared a secret connection. A silent contract between the two of us, written in spoons, lighters and needles, that we were to watch out for each other. I had convinced our mothers that him and I donated blood every week or so to explain our arms. He always made up excuses for us to skip school. Forged notes were his cup of tea. He was our "doctor" but the only perscription was another scab on our tender arms. Zut: My parents were clever and stupid. Clever because they acted like they were smart by speaking the few French phrases they knew when people were around. Stupid because they named me “Zut” the French word for “Damnit.” I wonder what they were thinking when I popped out. Oh, well. I don’t really give a fuck. My mom liked to get on people’s cases and kept a clean house. We could bounce a penny off the sheets in her bedroom. My dad was one of those screw-your-family business men. He was always on business trips to cities all over the country. My mom was basically a single parent. Whenever my dad did come home it was always before my mom got home from her job. His collar had red lipstick on it. His pores leaked a perfume of a stranger. It made me sick. I just couldn’t take it to break mom’s heart by telling her. So I just broke my own by keeping it a secret. All the secret keeping made my heart ache, and the only way to take away that pain was to mutilate my arms. I mutilate them a few ways. My best friend Heroine shares my passion for needles. It’s true. I have a friend named Heroine. That’s not her birth name, though. Her birth name is Ivy. She got it changed when she was taken from her home by child services. Her and I had been friends since kindergarten. We started using together by age 14. Most people say it’s ridiculous for two fourteen-year-olds to be addicted to heroine, but they didn’t live our lives. Back then my dad had a drinking problem, and no job. He was a violent drunk and would beat my mother and I around, until the court system said that unless he went to a 12-step program we would be taken away from him. He went, and came back a cheating business man. Heroine never really tells me about her former life. All I remember are all the bruises when she came to school. She would walk slowly. She still jumps at quick movement around her. I don’t push for information. Heroine and I are now full-blown addicts at age 16. We have a friendship like I’ve never had with someone. I went into my basement. I turned the television on and lit a joint. I felt my head float away. The show become incredibly hilarious. I heard footsteps, and swore under my breath. My mom was totally oblivious to my addictions. “Oh, man. Getting high without me?” Heroine smiled. I breathed a sigh of relief. I held out the joint to her. She took a drag of it and plopped on the couch. We sat there for a long time with our heads in the clouds. Our bodies didn’t matter right now. They never really mattered at all. Heroine: Once my head was back on my shoulders and my red eyes turned slowly back to white, I left the basement. I got home. My foster family were asleep. I got to my bed and slept. The morning for me was never a happy time. It started the same. “Hey, Heroine!” the cutest child ever was at my bedside. “Hey Matthew.” I smiled and ruffled his hair. “Good, you’re up. Momma is mad at you!” he frowned. “Why would she be mad at me?” I sighed. “You were home too late.” He informed me. I got up, still in my clothes from yesterday, shooed Matthew out of my room and changed. My hair smelt like pot, but I couldn’t take a shower or I’d be late for school. I got to the breakfast table, grabbed a piece of toast and ran out the door. I took one bight of the toast and spit it out, throwing the toast to the ground. I hate food this early. I got to Zut’s house and threw a stone at his window. He leaned out and asked if we were going to school today. I nodded. He put a finger up, as if saying ‘one minute’. I waited and he stumbled out. “Way to be.” I snorted, “Why don’t you take a little longer, an ice burg hasn’t passed by yet.” He rolled his eyes. “Use an older joke next time, why don’t you?” he retorted. We walked side by side, both remarking about things that made us angry or what we found funny. We parted when we walked into school, going to our separate home rooms. Mrs. Soman was mine. Mrs. Kel was his. I sat next to my kind of friend Heather. She eyed me. “You smell weird.” She whispered. I laughed at her. The class dragged on. I wanted to shoot someone in the face. Or maybe myself. Yes, swallowing a pistol sounded nice right now. The bell rang and I got out of there as fast as I could. Walking the hallways always made me feel small and unimportant, but that was the truth. I got to my locker and chatted with my friend Cadie. “You smell like the herb, doll.” She winked. “Mmm. Yes, I do.” I winked back. “The best smell in the world.” She laughed. I nodded and headed to my next class. Miss Fidd. She had ten cats and an obsession with fake pigs. I sat in the back of the room with one of my best friends; Nikki. She wasn’t a junky. She didn’t know I was, either. I liked this class only because it was language arts. We got to write. I loved to write more then I liked to breath. I wrote about cryptic pieces of my life, never too much to really pin it to myself. The class ended and I got tired of school. I just went to the cafeteria and pretended I was in one of the senior lunch study halls. I went to the very back table and slept. I awoke to people coming into the cafeteria. A cut boy with curly hair and blue eyes with glasses hesitated with his tray and sat down across from me. He looked at me questioningly. “You know you stole my table, right?” he smiled. “Oh, sorry… I didn’t know.” I choked on my words. He laughed and told me not to worry about it. We started to talk. He was smart and funny. He looked at me like I was worth looking at. Like I was an interesting person to have a conversation. His lip curled up slightly on the right whenever I said something that amused him. “Will you sit here tomorrow?” he asked sweetly. “I will sit here for the rest of the day. And tomorrow if I am welcome.” I replied. “Care to join me for the rest of the day?” “I would love to.” He was actually going to skip the rest of the day to stay with me. We spent the rest of the day sharing stories back and forth. The bell to leave rang and he got up, walked around and took my hand. I looked at him. “You… don’t have to do this.” I looked at him. “I want to.” He held my hand and walked me home, “See you tomorrow.” I nodded and my head was now floating in the air. Zut: “I was looking all over for you today. You didn’t show up for French.” I pouted to Heroine as she sat next to me on the couch. She looked far away but oh, so close enough to touch. “Oh, sorry. I was, uh… skipping in the Caf.” She smiled like a total dope. “Jesus, you stoned?” I accused. Not even going to share with me, the nerve. “No…” she smiled sweetly. “Way to be.” I threw my words at her. That was our catch phrase. Rather then ‘way to go’. “I’m going to go home. I want to get to school early tomorrow.” She nodded and left. I was left alone in my cool basement. She was acting so odd. I’ve never seen her act this way. I was going to get our precious commodity tomorrow and skip. I guess it could wait till she stopped acting so fucked in the head. I fell asleep on my lovely couch. When I woke up I had missed the entire day and Heroine was on the floor watching cartoons. “Why didn’t you come get me?” I asked, outraged. “I forgot.” She shrugged. “What happened to make you such an airhead.” I said, intending to sting her with my words. “Love happened.” She leaned her head on my legs. “Wait, what?” I asked, confused. “I got a boyfriend today. I’m in love.” She said, once more. “Who the fuck is the unlucky fellow?” I burst out laughing. She frowned deeply. “Maze.” She said, a dream in her tone. “Maze Caler?” I scoffed. “Mhmm.” She sighed, “He’s sweet and funny as pie.” “Pie isn’t funny at all.” I said, because what she said made no sense. Maze Caler was not sweet whatsoever. He was a dickhead. He was rich and looked down on people. Especially us junkies. How could he get her to love him? I’ve been trying for ages to get her to see me as more than a friend. “I don’t care. It is to me.” She snapped, got up and left the basement. I just don’t understand how Maze, the kid who sat in the back of the cafeteria all alone could get my best friend to fall for him. It was, in namesake, a total maze for me to figure out. It was insane. I just laid back and went to sleep again. This time I woke up in time to get to school. I walked all the way, following Heroine and Maze. Holding hands. They got to school and they kissed at the front of the doors. They broke their hand connection and went their separate ways. My mouth drooped open. My friend Greg elbowed me. “Should have hit that sooner, eh?” he laughed. I glared at him. “I don’t think of her that way.” I hissed. “Sure you don’t, dude.” He called as he walked away. I was in a sense of self-turmoil. Such a crisis. I can’t do anything. I don’t want to ruin the friendship. Dear lord. I hate myself. I never made my move. Never told her that I loved every hair on her head. Every time she spoke my heart thumped faster. I couldn’t focus on classes right now so I just went to the cafeteria. I saw them there. Maze and Heroine. They were in the back of the cafeteria. Laughing and completely wrapped into what each other were saying. Now I can’t stay in here. I went to class. Mrs. Kel was sarcastic, and didn’t care if you did your homework or not. It was your grade that was affected. Not worth her time to goad at you to do it. I liked this class simply because my immature self got to say ‘vagina’ and ‘penis’ without fear of getting yelled at. Heroine said she liked health for the same reason. I just wanted the day over with. Class after class. Then lunch. I sat next to Greg. Heroine walked up to the table. Maze following behind her. “Hey, you losers.” She greeted us. We all replied with a unison ‘yo’. We sat at what most would call the pothead table. We considered it just a table of friends. “Meet Maze.” “Hey, Maze. Eating alone get lonely?” asked lex. “Not anymore.” He grinned and squeezed Heroine’s hand. I looked away and bit down at my jealousy. They spent the rest of lunch whispering and laughing, as if the rest of us weren’t here. Heroine’s other friends at the table, Nikki and Rich looked aghast. I sighed and left. Bile burning it’s way up my throat. Broken hearts hurt worst than broken bones. Heroine: Zut left the table. It made me upset, I wanted him and Maze to be friends. They didn’t even talk. I just kissed Maze’s cheek and ran after Zut. “Zut!” I called. He stopped, turned and shook his head. “What?” he whispered. “Why did you leave, you poop!” I frowned. “Wasn’t needed.” He replied. He sounded like a hurting animal, untrusting and bitter. “You are always needed!” I snapped. “Not the way I want to be.” He whispered so I almost didn’t hear him. It confused me. I stopped walking and let him go forward. I went back to the lunch table. Maze looked angry. I told him we should skip the rest of school. He agreed. We snuck out and started walking to his house. “You made me look like a retard.” He told me. “How?” I asked. “You left me with your friends for another guy.” He informed me, angry. “Zut looked upset. He is my best friend.” I intoned for him to drop this. “Make it up to me.” He struck with words. “How would I do that?” I pinched his side and scrunched my face up. “I love you, you know that?” he asked, changing subject. “I hope so!” I laughed. “You love me, too, right?” he continued, still serious. “Where are you going with this?” I questioned. “We both love each other deeply,” he was still going on, “so make it up to me by proving that you love me as much as you say you do.” “Are you asking me to…” I started. “Make love with me.” He interrupted. “I’m not ready for that…” I stuttered. He squeezed my hand, hard. “That hurts, Maze.” Still squeezing hard my hand felt like it was going to shatter. “I think you are ready.” He whispered harshly. “Maze. I’m not going to.” He was now dragging me into his house and into his room. “Yes. You are.” He spat. We got to his room and he locked the door. He forced me to sit on the bed and he began pressing his face against mine. He felt like a desperate tumor on my lips. He grabbed my arms, which were trying to push him away. He pulled back for a moment and I tried to escape. He slapped my face and I could feel a bruise blossoming, like many had blossomed before. I fell to the bed and he got on top of me after pushing me to lie down. He now began to remove clothing. I blocked out all I could. All I felt were fingers touching me and Maze inside me. It lasted so long. I was softly crying. “I love you, baby. We’re done, though. No more us.” He ran his hand through my hair, got up and opened the door. “You can leave now.” I ran all the way home and passed out on my bed. I slept a dreamless sleep. I woke up to find school had started two hours ago. I picked myself up and went to Zut’s basement. He had gone to school so I just curled up on the couch and slept some more. Zut: School was always the same. I was always the same, and Heroine was now somewhat different. She was complete with Maze by her side. I sulked into the cafeteria. I overhead the conversation Maze was having with the rest of the table. Rich and Nikki sat next to me, listening keenly as well. “So you hit it and quit it?” laughed Greg. Heroine was absent from the scene. Maze was the center of attention. “Fuck yes.” Maze was proud of himself. That wasn’t like Heroine. She must be crushed that he dumped her. Poor thing. “So, what? You just dumped her?” I asked, angry. “Yes, I did.” He looked at me with eyes that were so fierce. “But I had sex with her first.” “So finally someone got in her pants. Everyone has tried here, except for Rich and Zut.” Greg smiled. He had, actually tried to hook up with Heroine, but she never would demean herself like that. She had actually confided in me. “I won’t have sex unless I’m totally sure it will last.” Could she have been sure about Maze? She was wrong. How would this affect her future relationships. God, Maze was a dick. “You’re a dick, Maze.” Then I left. He responded but I didn’t hear what was said. I opened the side door of the school and went home. The school didn’t give a shit, I was too far gone in their opinion. I got home and snuck into my basement. I was going to wait here for a while then try and call Heroine. I got to the other side of the couch to discover Heroine, crushing herself into the couch and into herself so that she took up the littlest amount of room on the couch. I nudged her softly. “Heroine, why are you here?” I questioned her. “Zut. I’m so sorry. Zut.” She cried. Not getting up. “Don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong.” I cooed to her. “I should go home. I shouldn’t have come here.” She whimpered and leaned up. I sat down where her head once was and I brought her head back down on my lap. “Don’t be ridiculous. Just sleep.” I ran my fingers through her hair and let her sleep on my lap. I adjusted my legs a few time, but each time she cried out. She spoke in her sleep, and it scared the shit out of me. I would be watching Spongebob and she would scream, “No! Stop! Please…” then she would trail back to silence. I didn’t understand what the hell happened, and it confused me thoroughly. The sky melted into darkness and I asked Heroine if she wanted to go home or not. She shook her head no, so I leaned my head back and we both fell asleep on my ruddy old couch. “You two are so adorable.” My mom woke us up. It was Saturday. “Gee, thanks.” I snorted. “Hey, Mrs. Lace.” Heroine greeted my mom, head still on my lap. “Hello Ivy. I’m glad you have used my son as a pillow,” she smiled. Oh, yea. She used her old name. Heroine didn’t mind, though. Heroine got up then, and my mother and I both let out a sharp breath. “Heroine, what the hell?” I asked. Heroine’s pale skin on her cheek had transformed into a raw, purple and blue bruise. “Oh sweetie, let me put an ice pack on that,” my mom led her upstairs. I could hear Heroine saying not to worry, that she was okay. I hung my head down. Now it was just really fucking confusing. I waited patiently and Heroine eventually came walking down the stairs, clutching an ice pack to her face. “I’m so stupid,” She sighed. “I doubt that. So what happened?” I looked right into her eyes. “I fell,” She instantly replied, looking away. I’ve heard this excuse so many times from her, back when she was still with her lazy excuse for a family. “On what this time? On a door frame, down the stairs?” I doubted her harshly. “On a milk crate. You know what I’m talking about? Those hard as shit plastic things? Well, I have one next to my bed and I rolled off and bam, mister bruise,” she answered. “Whatever,” I crossed my arms at my chest. “Fine, don’t believe me.” She mimicked me. “I heard Maze talking at lunch today. Sorry to hear you two didn’t work out,” my voice was sincere. I looked over at here and she had her hand shut so tight the knuckles were an absolute white. “Yeah, don’t be sorry. Turns out he was a jerk,” she softly replied. “You need a spike, don’t you?” I asked her, intending to cheer her up. “Oh, lord. That would be great, but what about mother dearest?” she responded. I bit my lip. We couldn’t go to Heroine’s house, because the parents were working at home. The last thing we needed was a parent to sneak in on us while we were searching for a vein. Shit. We could go to Greg’s, but I’m mad at him for indulging in Maze’s stories. “We’ll take our chances.” I tried to assure myself. I could only picture what that conversation would be if my mom walked in on us. -- “What the fuck are you two doing?” she would bark. “It’s… Vitamin C!” Heroine would try to explain it away, like she always did. “The fuck it is. Get out, Ivy.” And Heroine would leave. “Your father WILL be hearing about this, damnit.” “Mom, we were just trying it…” I would say quietly. “Experimentation is absolutely normal, but what were doing was practicing retardation. Never let me catch you doing this again, young man.” She would finally calm down, and forget to tell dad. -- A chill ran down my spine. That would be terrible. I got out our paraphernalia. “I hope you don’t have any STD’s, missy.” I said jokingly. Her eyes turned dark. “Fuck. You.” She hissed. My eyes opened wider, and I held my hands up in surrender. “Touchy subject.” I commented. “Drop it.” She stared off. “You want to go first?” I asked her, a gift of peace. She nodded. She plunged it carelessly into her arm and pressed down hard, it all went into her arm before I could stop her. “What the fuck, Heroine! Are you insane? You could overdose! Plus, I wanted some.” I yelled, but not loud enough for my mom to hear. Heroine wasn’t listening. She was in a total state of euphoria. A whole new level. “Overdose?” she slurred. “Yeah, it’s when you take too much and die, dumbass.” I snapped. “You gave me an idea.” She smiled wide. “Well, great. I’m sure the stuffing in the couch could give you an epiphany in the state your in.” I scoffed. “Hey, Zut. I love you, you know that right?” she stumbled on her words. I stopped talking, and finally found my words. “No, you don’t. But I do love you, more than you will ever know.” I sighed at her. She opened her eyes, looking at me with a new kind of fondness. “I do love you.” Were the last words she said before she slipped into a deep sleep. The confusion kept piling on. It was so tall by now, it was shaking hands with the clouds. Heroine: The idea was forming. It was absolutely gorgeous. Beautiful. I had left Zut’s house Sunday night. It was a great weekend, and his mother totally trusted us. It was great, except she called me Ivy. His mother and he shared the same last name of ‘Lace’ and many times I had thought of how humorous it would be if his name was, ‘Shoe’ rather than ‘Zut’ or perhaps ‘Neck’. Yes, that is how my mind worked. Heroine was cheaper than other drugs. Fifteen dollars on the street for an alright-amount. There was other kind of heroine, like white china powder, or so I think that’s what it’s called, but each type had a different high. Right into the blood was the best, in my opinion, and my nose didn’t much appreciate the burning that was left behind with the powder. I needed a lot of cash, to make my idea become reality. I didn’t really know how to do that. Make money fast and lots at a time. Another idea. I like my mind. I had very little respect for myself lately. I was just flesh and bones. No emotion or opinion. That fit into my plan like fingers on hands, meshing together to hold one another. I stopped eating altogether. Food was as appealing as kissing Maze again. Anyway, I liked the way it made my stomach beg. I felt in control of it. My cheek bones became more prominent. My collar bone started protruding, as well. I loved collar bones. They were so sensual. So alluring, I kept my hand spread out on the area between my neck and breasts. I ran my fingers across my collar bone. At this time I had succeeded in making money with my idea. I needed more, though, to really get the job done. I stopped talking to people all together, even Zut. I had little respect for myself, and didn’t want anyone to realize it. I saw Zut once in the last week. He took me to his room and we talked. He went to the bathroom and I grabbed the book under his bed. It was full of his emotions and thoughts, and a piece of metal that had a power over his arms. I stole it. Just part of the plan. He came back and we talked more. I left soon after. Today at school was like all the other days. I looked for possible clients. Greg. He should be my last client if he paid well enough. Then I’d have enough money. “Greg.” I nudged him as we walked side by side. “Hey, I heard about your business.” He responded with desperate tones in his voice. “Today is my last day. I was hoping you would be the last client.” I felt in my pocket. “How much?” he asked, searching in his pockets. “20.” I smiled and threw a package at him, he handed me the twenty. “Where should we do this?” he asked, nervous. “Boys bathroom.” I answered, where it always was. We crept there, being as subtle as we could. We got in one of the stalls and he got prepared. It was unromantic. Greg was one of the better clients I’d had. The others were freshman or virgins. Greg was devastatingly hansom. I didn’t make any noise, but he did. Grunting and sighing. The stall door vibrated with the sound of a fist. Shit. Shit. Shit. If a teacher was out there I would get my money taken away, people would get in trouble. “Greg?” Zut’s voice sounded. I didn’t know whether to feel relief or panic. He couldn’t see me… like this. With Greg. “Zut. Go away!” Greg grunted. “Who is in there with you, dude?” Zut was a persistent person. “Why the hell do you care?” Greg moaned. He still didn’t stop, even with the interruption. “Greg, stop. Your time is up.” I whispered in his ear. “Oh, lord! There is a hooker in the school?” Zut laughed, obviously hearing what I said. “What a whore.” That was worse than the bruise on my face. Greg started getting decent again. “You’ll regret saying that about her.” Greg told Zut through the stall. “Nope, I won’t.” Zut laughed. I crawled under into a different stall and Greg opened the door. “Yea, you will.” Greg whispered. I cried. I was a whore. It was true. I just wasn’t expecting it to be said through Zut’s lips. “Whatever, dude.” Zut brushed off what Greg had said. They walked out. I opened the stall, to see eyes of guys all staring curiously, some winking. “You guys are cunts.” I snapped, wiping my tears away and slipping out of the bathroom. I left school and made my way to the fringes of the city. Zut: “I can’t believe you got a hooker.” I snorted. “Well, more of a prostitute. Today is her last day on the job, though.” Greg smiled. It amazed me that he would do that. He could easily get it for free. “Not to, I don’t know, compliment you, but why did you need a prostitute. Aren’t you a desirable guy?” I asked in a rough voice. “The only way I could get her was to pay for her, and I really like her.” Greg responded. What chick got him to view her as an actual human being? He thought of girls as property, to be blunt. “Who?” I asked, still reeling. “Someone you will regret having called a whore.” Greg glared at me. “Well, who the fuck could it be?” I asked myself out loud. “You find her name ironic, and she wishes your first name was ‘Shoe.’” Greg hinted at me. My mouth dropped open. It felt broken. I’m a dick. Why did I say that? Why the fuck was she selling herself. “You have got to be kidding me.” I punched a locker. “Now everyone has hit that but you.” Greg laughed really loud. “Shut up!” I screamed. Really loud. “Woah, calm down.” Greg tried to soothe. I kicked and punched at the lockers and walked out of school. I went to my basement, and sucked down as many joints as I could. It wouldn’t take away any feeling this time. Just the opposite. Hours passed by, and I slipped in and out of the intense feelings. Heroine: I had the number of the dealer from Zut’s book. I called him. “Hey.” He sounded sleepy. “Can you do a 200 of the purest shit you have?” I asked. “I can. I wouldn’t do it all at once, though, you sound like a small chick. It’ll kill you.” He responded. Exactly. That’s what I wanted to hear. “Meet me at 7-11 in five?” I asked. He made a noise agreeing and we made our exchange. I pocketed it, and stopped by the hospital. I knew my way around and grabbed a syringe out of the supply closet. I bolted out of there and went home. My family was out to dinner except for the oldest and youngest son. “Hey, Heroine.” Said the oldest son, Johnny. “Hey, Johnny. I’m going to my room. Don’t knock.” I warned. I laid everything out on my bedspread. The razor, the heroine, the spoon, the syringe, a piece of paper and a pen. Note first, right? Dear Everyone, So, if your reading this, then you broke down the door and have found my body. I really hope Matthew isn’t here to see me. Tell him that I love him more than hugs and kisses put together. Mom, and I will call you that now, I can’t thank you enough for taking me in. Dad, thanks for keeping Mom sane with all these hectic kids. For my friends, I just want to say I didn’t do this to hurt you. Nikki: you were a great friend and I will always remember you. Pearl: You are my closest friend that I’ve had since about kindergarten. Rich: You are brilliant and sweet, and kind, and I could easily fall for you over and over again, but being friends is totally worth it. Finally, Zut. You are so important to me. You were my heart and you didn’t even know it. Those lazy days In your basement were the best days I’ve ever had. None of you came to the conclusion that Maze is one of the reasons I am doing this. I won’t go into detail, but what he said happened was in no way consensual. I lost all respect for myself and living wasn’t worth living. So sorry I burdened you all. I love you. Love… Ivy. Now I wasn’t sure if I should inject or cut first. My theory was to overdose, and if someone were to find me, and if for some odd reason they could revive me, I would have lost too much blood. I decided to shoot first. It took my a while to get it all ready, and then I chose a vein. All at once. I feared my vein would burst. It’s effects took hold. So strong. So intense. I started reliving everything that I used the drug to forget about. Hit. Hit. Bruise. Mom. Dad. Hit. Bruise. Stop. Maze. Hit, hit, bruise. Hit, bruise, stop. Needles, needles, needles. The experiences drummed like a heartbeat in my mind. I hacked at my arms with the razor. Fists pounded at the door. “Heroine, what’s wrong?” cried Matthew. Then there was nothing. I was dying to the soundtrack of fists at the door and the tears of one of my favorite people in the world. [not good, very choppy spelling, plus i spelt heroin wrong?]
current mood: meh? current music: skylit drive the time: 6:41pm (EST)
[reply] [1 comment]

A normal life		3.13.2010
	by: lenny_n_lola from: work of art
The past is a mirror, It reflects everything back at me, Leaving me scared and lonely, Only I can see, The lies in the cracks of my life, The screams that imbedded in my voice, The pain and crying of daily strife, I never had a choice, So everyday when I look in the mirror, And I see my self staring back, I seem to wonder what made me this, Why did I not have, A normal life, A normal life where can you laugh with you're friends, And hug and kiss boys, A normal life where happiness does happen and ends, And to express joy, But my life is nothing like that, I'm just a statue, I'm just a worthless piece of tat, Worth no value, So if you see me any day, Please remember that we're not the same, Lot alike in anyway, You've got love, I'v got shame,
current mood: current music: the time: 5:47pm (EST)
[reply] [0 comments]

Out of a Notebook;		3.13.2010
	by: Astroderm from: Gravità
. . . . He and I have talked about sex, and it's an inevitable event (it's always "when..." not "if...") but that's just because I know I want to go there with him. Just not yet. The longest I've waited is 3 months. And that was luck, because had that guy had more of an opportunity, there wouldn't have been any waiting for him at all. I used to use sex as a tool to keep guys around. And that was because I felt I had no worth. But with Steven I feel like everything is brand new. I'm treating myself as if I've never let go of the innocent part of me that was taken. I don't want sex to be rushed, I don't want the relationship to be rushed. I want Steven to know that he is more to me than any of the other guys (he's more to me than "just some guy I fucked"). And even though I'm pretty sure he already realizes that, waiting is only going to amplify it. He doesn't want to wait. But while he's voiced that opinion, the suggestion of going ahead and fucking has never been the follow-up. And I don't feel any pressure to have sex with him, the way I have with every other guy. Even though he's said he doesn't want to wait, I know it's just because he's a guy. He's said he will wait because it's important to me, and even though he doesn't wnat to on his own behalf, he does want to on mine. Again, no guy has been like that with me before. It makes me love him twice as much. I remember when I twalked to my mom about how I mask my insecurities with sex once. She told me that if I can say no, it makes me more valuable to myself. And if I say no even when I want to say yes, that will make me feel even better. She was right. She also told me there are 3 kinds of guys; 1) the kind of guy who won't stick around when I say no. 2) the kind of guy who will stick around, but will try to get me to say yes as much as possible, and 3) the kind of guy who will tell me "No, Samme. You aren't ready yet." when i say yes. The third kind of guy is the best kind of guy I can find, and he's also the least common. Steven is the third kind of guy. We were talking one night and I mentioned that I was close to saying "fuck waiting," and he told me not to. He told me he wouldn't want me to give up something that was so important to me. He's never pushed me to do things, he's never tried convincing me that I should bend my morals. When Steven talks to me bout things we've done together, it's never just been about what felt good and what he wants more of, it's how it felt to experience something like my skin, or my breath on his ear, or my smell or taste. And he's always put me first. Everything he does shows me how much he must really love me. It's every little thing that was absent from every other relationship I've been in. I wonder a lot how I could have been so blind to the little things like that. Tiny, microscopic things that are the make-up for identifying someone's true feelings for you. I guess when you've never been shown what those things are, though, you can't tell when they're absent from a relationship. I worry a little that I'm not receptive enough, that I don't do those same little things, or that I don't know how to show my feelings. I get distracted by everything he does for me, and I think I might forget to show him how wonderful and perfect he is. But he is perfect. . . . . . . . When I call him, sometimes he's just woken up. His voice is husky and coated with sleep, and I always want to hold the sound of it in my head forever. His smell turns my stomach into geometrical shapes. When he holds me and I'm breathing him in I think it's probably just about the best feeling in the world. I love his taste. I'll put my mouth anywhere on him (his lips, neck, chest, arms, fingers, stomach...) just to have the excuse to taste him. His skin amazes me. He is softness and warmth and safety. Lying next to him feels like home. I miss him. I've never felt so content to lie in anyone's arms before. ♥
current mood: current music: the time: 5:27pm (EST)
[reply] [0 comments]

pages: 1 2 3 next