Merry Christmas BT

This End, New Beginning

This year is coming to a close.  It's been a long, hard year for me.  October marked the first year in the new apartment, when we moved from the only house I've ever known.  And everything else, it's like I've been falling apart.
In March, my grandmother died.  Three weeks later, my dog joined her in Heaven.  My dad kept getting worse.  He did so many things, I'm still confused about how I feel.  At least I know I love him and I miss him awfully bad.  I've struggled with self-esteem.  I lost the light I loved to spread.  I've been going up and down, and it seems everything's been hitting me at once.
My dad and my mom seperated, and I've had so much trouble at school.  It's so very stressful.  I've had to see a therapist, and I'm diagnosed with anxiety with depression.  I'm terrified of what can happen in the future, and I'm living in the present and being broken because of the past.
This year has been a long, rough one, but I've learned a lot of positive things.
I've learned that to be selfish can help you out.  I've learned the connection that you can make with people.  I've made so many strong connections, and have lost a few.  I've learned that everyone has a value - including me.  That value never changes or goes away; the whole world is important.
I've learned the meaning of family and friends.  My mom is every reason I'm alive today.  And my friends... gosh, I don't know how they put up with me.  Love has given me a power that few people have, and I'm so glad I have such an open heart and mind.
There's so much more I've struggled with, so many more lessons.  But this is the biggest one:
If you say you're going to do something, then nothing can stop you or change that.
So today I say I'm going to let my creativity soar.  So today I'm going to write, and share my value by showing people there's.  Today I am going to begin to change the world.

As this year ends, I hope we can all take it for reflection.
Merry Christmas, and have a wonderful, magical, hope-filled, amazing New Year.

With love,
Kunabee

Nobody

Sit down beside, the one alone,
Ask who, the response,
"I'm nobody who matters."
And walk away,
Slowly fade,
This is life, that's okay.
Sit down beside, the one alone,
Ask why, the response,
"It's nothing that matters."
Stay silent, no questions,
Slowly stay,
This is life, that's alright.
Sit down beside, the one alone,
Ask how, the response,
"No way that matters."
A careful hug, a careful push,
Slowly walk away,
This is life, forever one way.

Nobody sits silent,
Sat and lost, dreams gone crashing,
Everyone will grow up,
Loose dreams and imagination,
Of course, it'll always be,
In one aspect alone forever.
Give up, give in, hide it and live,
But show the world something special,
Show the world magic indeed.

But nobody is everybody,
No matter in anyone,
Value is nothing,
But then, if such a case,
Why is there such change?
Someone out there, always caring,
Learn and live and die.

Nobody is everybody,
The importance isn't there,
All are empty songs,
Forgotten worth, disappeared.
What you know, gone.
Smile weakly, smile slow,
And maybe, somewhere, hope will grow.

Kuro-Chan's Christmas

https://www.youtube.com/embed/feKMlc-nJ6M

SO CUTE.
End of discussion.

Fact

The truth is out at last,
It's never been this or that,
Black and white is all a lie,
All that is just makes me cry.
Hope, peace, harmony,
I thought it all would come back to me,
Now here I am, proven wrong,
Dissapointment is my song.
I thought I'd have him, I thought he'd care,
But now I'm back to pulling out my hair.
It's not her fault, it's not mine,
It's only his, not the divine,
I thought he'd come back to love,
My Father in Heaven's gift from above,
How dare he prove me wrong again!
When my heart was just beginning to mend!

Daddy dearest, why so cruel,
Can't you make up your mind?
I'm sick of waiting when I can't find
A single ounce of truth.
I've been used by you and now I'm done,
Good luck, and find your own freaking sun.

But I don't give up, I'm always the optimist,
Even when things aren't really optimistic,
So since nobody's trying I'll give it a go,
Fifteen years old and hey, what do you know?
Praying for a family that will never be fixed;
Father in Heaven, help me be steeled,
The worse that can happen is next to appear.

24 Hours

Morning, dear, can burn the eyes,
But morning, dear, can be a sweet surprise.

Did you forget that morning comes?
Well, day is now here, bright the sun.

The day can bring bitter events of self-destruct,
But brilliant miracles can also come.

Did you forget that today is only once?
Well, dusk is now, a setting sun.

Dusk can bring a sad sad end to all that was,
Yet a great, soft beginning can begin.

Did you forget that dusk falls?
Well, stars shine in midnight blue sky.

Night can be a cage so awful,
But also a blanket sweet.

Did you forget it is you who decides?
Your opinion and perspective chooses you.

Senses

There is such great importance on sight,
And to see there should be light;
The blind only see the black,
We say there is something they lack.

There is such great importance to hear,
And to hear is to tell us fear;
The deaf never hear the fright,
And we say they're not safe each night.

There is such great importance to speak,
And to speak is to have values we keep;
The mute never say a word,
And we say they haven't learned.

But the blind do not judge on color of skin,
On hair, on eyes, makeup, or outside win,
Instead they decide who someone is,
By the heart that guides, that lives.

The deaf do not hear the bitter words
That come from gossip learned,
They only see and taste and smell,
And therefore, never fell.

And the mute cannot say cruel things,
And break down other's dreams;
Perhaps they can think it, but say it they can't,
And so a little seed of hope they plant.

Perhaps what we have is a bit overrated;
And what is lost is clearly understated.
So care and love, think with the heart;
It is time for us to share all our part.

Here We Are

Sunshine spreads wings, the smallest smiles,
From a tiny thing, a small thing, magic grows,
And like a dream, a laugh, a song,
There is finally something strong.
From such a tiny seed, there is a tree,
Stretching branches, a home.
The tree is home to birds,
Spiderwebs too stretch throughout its branches,
And squirrels, and other tiny things,
Find a certain type of unity.

If I could be,
Like a tree,
Then I would be strong, and useful,
But I most make do with simply me,
I can't change fate's design, at least not all the time,
So here I am, and where is strength?
There are things I cannot do.
Accepting imperfection
Is everyone's job;
^{so please care, let me learn
and help me to see me,
rather than what I am wanted to be}

Time is the best cure for destruction,
But time cannot heal every wound,
And when there is emptiness in the soul,
You must find the place you were burned,
And in time wean yourself off of hate,
Suffering is a part of this,
And so we share one companionship:
This is it; here we are.

Around

Apathy exists eternally,
Righteous cannot be,
Over and over, a cycle there is,
Under the heart, and hatred persists,
Negativity will overcome all good,
Doom to the ones who believe in hope.

After all, through trying,
Rose thorns are all I get,
Outside, there is a smile,
Unknown is the inside,
Nobody but me knows the tears;
Death, if only it would come.

Waiting

EDIT: I'd like to mention that the 'waiting' in this poem isn't waiting for death.  Read the last two stanzas to find out what the 'waiting' is for.  Thank you.

With a weak-willed thought, she
Spins and turns it around, yet
There is no meaning in a place such as this,
Blindly she wanders into pure emptiness,
But emptiness is the soul's curse,
And the blessing is love,
However both are broken as time comes.

Searching for a right that never was,
Will be, or is, an impossible quest
That will always fail, but like persist
Flies people keep trying;
Yes, we're as worth as much as the dirt we walk on,
Blood that runs red turns to either green or gold,
And is stepped on in the return
Of loss, and there are tears,
But they don't mean a thing.

She stares at the sun and she lets it get her drunk,
She turns and tilts and is just stuck,
But that's the way of the world you see: your thoughts,
They shall burn you more than anything else,
Because in love, it is tempered by hate,
For when there is someone you love,
There will be times when hatred consumes,
And you'll forget all your values and rules,
Like fire, like flames, they will become ash,
But strength comes until the very last, and
Bravely she states words unsaid,
'I will be waiting,' and dawn will begin.

As the moon disappears though it is full,
And the sun means nothing but fear until gone,
Suddenly it all speaks, and life gets a new dawn;
So with love she walks, far far away,
Looks like waiting will wait for another day,
And the ones that loved her - and she loved too! - they
Will be watching her destruction of self,
Until the world ends at least one will wait,
But when she comes back all will forget,
And on wings of gold she soars above,
While blood pools from red to green, not a pretty kind,
And all that added up consumes heart and mind.

So subtraction begins, and she forgets self,
Waiting's too hard, she decides and is lost,
And then the cycle will begin all over again,
'I will be waiting' is the sleight of hand,
The only faith that any one has,
Is that at last someone will get it right,
And as a new time begins so will faith,
And the hope that was waiting will finally say,
'I've been waiting all this time for someone to believe,
And now at last the belief is achieved,
So the gift that's been given is finally here,
There will no longer be the emptiness to fear.'

But the time will come, and come again,
And in fate's twisted humor, all will end,
And the hope that is waiting will try and spring out,
But nobody cares, and love is not what it is about;
For we all start in morals, we all start as friends,
But at long last it ends, and enemies again.
So one of these days, we can hope and we can pray,
Finally there will be a new way.

It's Coming Out as Best I Can Make It

My emotions, anyway.  Written about a week and a half ago:

I don’t know how to start.  I don’t know how to begin.  Nothing – nothing – helps.  I have no therapy, no calm, nothing I can retreat to without worries.  I’m sick – so sick – of feeling everything at once.  It’s all inside me, all inside me, sometimes the good stronger then the bad and sometimes the other way around.  I feel guilty, all the time, because someone’s helping me or I yelled or I did something wrong.  I love myself; I hate myself.  I hate school, I hate people, I hate everything – and then I love school, I love people, I love everything.  I’m in a constant roller coaster filled with HUGE hills and loops, going so fast I can’t breathe.

There are times when suddenly I’ll just panic, just panic and still have to function, to smile.  And what I feel is what I feel – when the good’s stronger, it’s stronger.  When the bad’s stronger, it’s stronger.  It hurts.  It hurts when my mom says I’m a liar, or I’m “turning into a horror”.  That hurts.  It hurts my feelings, and the “I feel” statements don’t help.  I don’t know how to say them.  I don’t know how to say anything anymore.  I’ve lost my voice.

It’s so hard to share things with people now.  And I keep thinking – that’s my problem, always thinking – about things.  I’m not shallow, and whenever I am honestly self-centered I feel awful.  So I think, and I think, and I can’t get my mind off of it because it won’t let go.

Maybe the nothing helps is a lie.  It helps.  Writing helps, reading helps, helping other people helps – but then something happens, something profound or it stops or whatever, and it hurts all over again.  I feel sick all the time.  There’s something ill in my soul.

And I’m terrified.  You don’t know how terrified; you can never know how terrified.  I’m terrified of reaching something good; of medicine and mental diseases.  All I see, all of a sudden all I see, is everything awful.  It’s like good is bad, and bad is worse.  I want to be perfect, and I don’t care at the same time.

“Why aren’t you in IB?  That’s where all the smart kids – top of the line – go.”  My English teacher told me that.  I wanted a faster curriculum – something, something, that wouldn’t actually leave me bored.  But I’ll still be bored in English – I may be Honors, but I’ll always be ahead of the other kids.  It’s my subject.  I live in my writing, my reading.  If you found everything I’ve ever written, and you were smart and deep, you could piece together everything.  You could figure out what I can’t say, not even here, because sometimes there are not words.

Sometimes there isn’t a fix.  Sometimes it just gets worse and worse.  Math is awful – so awful – and I wish it could just go away.  That I could stop taking it.

Do I or don’t I want to go to college?  It’s like college is a factor of math.  If I don’t have to take math – or maybe not very much of it – it’s okay.  It’s all okay.  Maybe that’s the one thing I really do hate – math.  Just thinking about it makes me sick.

And it can’t be a focus.  Math isn’t it.  Don’t give me your damn advice; screw your intentions, you’re dead wrong.  You may have gone on a rollercoaster, you may have had a hundred plus issues, you may see yourself in the words I write, but you have no clue.  It doesn’t matter if you’ve shared every experience I’ve had.  It’s my issue, and only I can understand.

I miss people – so many people.  I miss my dog and my dad, and somehow I’m missing people I never met.  Nobody gets it, either.  I’m trying to talk, to scream.  I’m calling out for help but nobody knows.  I don’t know how to say.  But it’s not right.  I blame them – and I blame myself.  But how am I supposed to find the right words?

I’m trying to find sanity – some clarity, something to cling to that’s O.K. – but I can’t.  I try and blame my problems on something, but it’s not that.  The fact of the matter is I don’t know.  I just don’t know.  I can’t deal with questions, I can’t deal with being judged.  And please – oh gosh, please – don’t hate me.  I’m struggling.  I’m struggling to love and care and it’s hard.  So, so hard.

I don’t know… I want to turn to Heavenly Father, but I don’t.  I don’t want to turn to Heavenly Father.  My prayer would be silent, would be silent in my thoughts.  I’m doubting, so hard, if this is right, if this is really true – and I don’t know.  I don’t know how to turn.  What if I’m making up feelings?  I’m so scared I’m doing that, all the time.  What if I was never close to the Spirit?  Am I worthy to go to the temple?

Is all this just for attention?  Just to be noticed?  I don’t know.  I don’t know.  I don’t know.  I’m so lost, and confused, and feeling everything at once.  I don’t know how to get away.  How many times am I going to want to die?

Oh gosh, please nobody act weird.  That’ll make it worse – everything makes it worse – but it’d be worse then if people acted normal.  I hurt, all over and everywhere.  I get so upset I make myself sick.  I’m tired – all I want to do, all the time, is go to bed.  Just sleep.  Just sleep until I die.

Do I want to die?  Do I want to die at fourteen – nearly fifteen – years old?  I don’t know.  Two months to fifteen, and I don’t know if I want to live or die.

I just want to be okay.  That’s all I know – I want to be okay.  I want to feel things, once or twice at a time, not everything at once, all contradicting itself.

How do I free myself from a trap that’s inside an infinite amount of traps?  Life is a trap, sadness is a trap, death is a trap, happiness feels like a trap.  Giving up – letting things happen as they happen – feels like a trap.  It takes courage to do anything but give up, walk like a zombie.  It takes courage to kill yourself – a misplaced courage, I’m aware.  A wrong courage – but courage all the same.  It takes courage to live – a bright courage, a light courage.

But I don’t have courage.  I’m scared of giving up.  So everything traps me.  I’m stuck in a corner, surrounded by monsters.  I’m in a cage, and slowly it’s being bricked up while the maze completes itself, and it’s only dead ends.

Split

I know I smile, I have to be happy,
Life is too good to cry.
And inside and outside I give every bit of love,
I only have so much joy I can give,
And here it is, I do my best.
I'm nowhere near perfect.

Why am I so stuck on the past, the moment,
The future, all haunting me as I suffocate.
I keep panicking, freaking out,
The smallest things have me broken down.
I'm sick of the world and everything else,
But there's no way to get out.

I'm so lost and so confused,
It's impossible to make sense,
Have you ever been so happy,
And so miserable at the same time?
I'm split in two, and before it was death,
But now I choose to live.

A Cup

I haven't been posting class Maya projects even though I've done plenty, but I've been working on a personal one.  Yes, I do get my work done.  Anyway, here's a cup.  I did it by myself ;D  Thanks to someone in my class (you know who you are) for the transperancy and how to create water tips.

The Smile in the Words

I've been looking through past writings.  All sorts of writings, all of them that I've done.  And no matter how sad the poem is, or how much it says about hurting, there's something happy in it.  There's something that comes from the strength of Christ, and the strength of me, and the love and the hope and the faith that needed to be.
There's a smile in the words.
In all the misery of the world, there are always a smile in the words.  The words that share the Gospel of Jesus Christ, that speak across worlds and people of what we share.  There's a sky that changes color, and a planet supporting us, and causes all over to support.
We're made of the same stuff, of matter and particles and atoms and elements, and the same ability to love - and to hate.
Words have spoken to me.  They are how I speak, how I show how I care, how I give of myself - both to my Father in Heaven and to others.  They have spoken to me with a song and a book.  It hits home, now.  I am loved.  I can do anything.  I am not forgotten.  I matter, somewhere in this impossibly big and infinitely small world.
And so the smile in the words have shown me faith.

The smile in the words you can barely see,
But between the lines there is infinity,
There's a lack of colors, but a closer look,
Reveals reds and golds and blues and yellows,
Greens and purples and browns and oranges,
All hover there, pale little smiles,
And you look back over the words,
Take it piece by piece,
Suddenly you realize and suddenly you see.

What you thought was misery,
Is much more simple, much more pretty,
It is hope and faith and want for better,
Laughter, longing, loneliness, love,
And peace, above all others,
Saying that peace will come, but slowly,
And these words, thoughts, are all hidden,
Waiting to be taken in.
Slowly you gather the smile in the words,
Then rip it into pieces.

And the fact is these pieces will fly,
Around the world and back again.
They won't be forgotten.
Because there is love and piece and harmony,
By taking action you have changed a course,
Something that would lead only to destruction.
Self-destruction is the bitterest thing,
But by something that goes by the name charity,
The smile in the words is His spirit.

Admire

A hero is someone who
Is not afraid of death or pain,
Not afraid to stand alone,
But afraid of what will happen if they don't,
Scared of what will happen if they deny all they
Love, and believe.

I hope to be a hero,
I wish to be a healer of hearts.
Because when the heart breaks,
It's as if anything that was good or is good has gone,
Leaving behind any faith that was, before, manageable,
I wish to change this.

A point of view is that a hero saves lives,
And we call them fireman, and policeman,
Never realizing that, if not for the smaller heroes,
Friends, mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers,
There would be no lives to save,
The rescuees beyond broken.

So if I can be a hero,
Like all the ones I admire,
I will brace myself on what I know as truth:
I am important, special, called to do something great.
My Father in Heaven with His gentle hand,
Sometimes faith is slow in coming.

Words to Say

Words once came easy,
They were endless and boundless.
Now I find it difficult
To even find words to say
"Hello, I missed you, I love you.
I'm angry at you but please come home,
I'm begging you to change."
And I can't even say the last part,
It's too hard on me.

My heart is aching, sore and tender,
There's a deep happiness in it,
Laughter and of youth,
But I feel just about ancient,
Feel like I've done all I could.
I'm stuck in a rut and I'm scared.
I'm just a little girl who's crying,
And I know why but I can't place words,
And the reasons are like the stars, anyway.

And when someone else is hurting,
I always blame myself,
I couldn't get there in time, I wasn't born soon enough,
Or maybe I didn't something wrong again.
So I smile and laugh and say I'm amazing,
While the whole time I'm feeling like I'm evil,
And wondering if both are wrong.
What was once so easy for me to see and feel,
Now I have no clue of the words to say.

And this is the best I can do,
Letting it all out in uneven words,
Echoes of my emotions falling into place,
I'm praying that someone will realize, will see,
That I'm not alone, but I can't explain what's wrong,
I know I'm different from everyone else,
But I'm uncertain just how far, and if that's special,
I am a daughter of God and I'm giving up.
I don't have the words to say why.

Optimism

Optimism is like silt, or dirt, or dust.
But either way it's very thin.
It's still a solid, not a liquid or a gas, but it's easy to just let slip through your fingers.
It goes away, wanting to fly, but it tortures you too.
It stays there, wanting to make the world happy, but still flying.
So you grab on to the bits and pieces and try to put them together like a puzzle, but it's really not that easy.
You'd be shocked at how immature people can be, no matter their age.
I always associated wisdom with kindness.  Does that mean a few people are wise?
Little children, who don't have a care or hatred yet and still, must be the wisest of all.
I want to be young again.
I had optimism them, and it's a lot of learning how to hold optimism.  When did I forget how?

Versus

It's gone from "How much am I loved?" to "How much do people hate me?"
Seriously, can I just be me without being unsatisfactory to SOMEONE?
I already feel bad enough.
Leave me alone.
Let me GET OVER IT.
Have some patience.
Stop attacking me.
Seriously.
I can't take it.
I would put a threat here but there's not much I can do.  Besides, I actually care, and I don't want to upset people more then I already have.
Yeah, the one person in the universe who still cares.

Faith

You can only hold so much faith in your heart,
So much love, so much hope, in your heart.
And then it breaks, shatters,
The little trickles of faith
Abandoned.
Like stars in the sky, too far to touch,
So is the reasoning behind just what
Has changed, beyond comprehension,
So you are not what you were.
And I wish I could go back to
Simple days, when laughter came more easily,
And I didn't care
About every ebb and flow
Of everyone, and their words,
Bitter, with that taunt of sweet,
And it was true friendship then.

Now, as older one becomes,
You begin to doubt that anyone
ever cared, and the smallest action
Usually something that wouldn't bother you,
Shouldn't bother you,
Cuts like a knife into your heart,
And you take the wounds, one by one,
I've taken so many hits and shots,
And half of them are of silly things,
Things that shouldn't bother me,
And then you shatter.
The faith you held becomes too much,
Your heart too unhappy,
Wicked curling things to steal it away,
Instruments of self-destruction, some are
Physical, and others emotional, mental,
Wondering if you can survive another throw.

Too terrified to speak, unhappy when you think,
You don't know, and when you do,
It's at the wrong place, you want approval,
And you don't want the offered options,
But somehow, in the first place, you knew.
And even doing what you've always loved,
To give expression to meaning, or maybe meaningless,
You're terrified the world would know, but
It can't stay in there forever, you understand,
You've always understood that you
Are sensitive, crying inside,
When there's a smile it's half a facade,
Half, because you're still half-happy,
Honestly happy,
And you're clinging in desperation,
While you pray all your dreams and all your fears
Can just be broken for you,
And something better can happen in the shards.

So this is all the faith I have left,
Faith that it can just fall, into emptiness,
I'm done, I'm sick, I'm tired,
I'm still running because I don't know what else to do.
You have no place,
You are lost and alone,
An outsider.
You're too good, and kind, and when you aren't
You're too immature, irresponsible,
And then there's time when you're too mean.
You'll just loose, friend by friend, assignment by assignment,
Stress by stress,
Until it's lost, forever,
And the reason that's offered, the best one there is,
You can't take, because you'll be more like the
Ones you've hated, the ones you've feared,
And you don't want a drop of them.

And faith, it's broken,
Because you still have so much of it,
But it's killing you, anyway,
Because disappointment comes, and you try to fight,
It still slips away.
It's the first blow that did it,
That caused the leak.
So with band-aids and duct tape,
You patch up every hole,
And you wonder if there will be faith.

I Believe

Beliefs.  Sometimes it feels like a pain in the behind just to have them, live them, experience them.  It seems around every corner someone is challenging one little value, one little thought.  It doesn't matter if it's releated to religion or not.  How can it be so easy for some people to look down on someone because they're different?  I don't find it easy at all.  They're a person, I'm a person.
You gotta admit, it's tough for EVERYONE.  Period.  End of discussion.
But the lack of respect shown to people is horrendous.  And the more I learn of... well, everything, the more this is apparant to me.  People are honest-to-goodness mean.  It makes my head spin.  Now, I know I'm naive.  I'm fourteen years old and a freshmen and even other fourteen-year-old freshmen confuse me with some of the stuff they talk about, and really gross me out.
FACT: Most teenagers are perverts.
But anyway, back to the whole belief thing.  Everyone has beliefs - little opinions, their religion, etc.  And if someone shares it they run the risk of someone showing just how pathetic and insecure they are.  Which it hurts.  Even knowing that person is a piece of trash.  And everyone here can agree, right?
The whole fact of the matter is that I believe in a lot of stuff that comes from my experiences, and I should NOT have to suffer disrespect.
I believe in the teachings of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.  Jesus Christ was my Savior and I follow Him.  This is my first and foremost belief beyond ANYTHING else.  I believe in the Bible and the Book of Mormon.
I also believe in dressing modestly, not cussing, and treating my body well.  Alcohol and drugs shall NEVER BE TOUCHED by me.  EVER.  Cigarettes... I hate smoking.  Smoke, and you're killing yourself, other people, and the other.  It's a deathstick, and nothing more then addicting deathstick to make mean people money off of people who are ignorant.  (If you didn't notice, I feel VERY strongly in this subject.)
I have faith in people's best natures.  I've seen people be extremely greedy (BIG.  ISSUE.  Lust and greed... BIG.  ISSUE.), be total meanies, hated for no reason, bring people down because they're insecure, etc. etc., but I still have faith in people's best natures.  I've seen miracles happen because someone rose above the ignorance and pain.
I trust people.  I give people chances and I honestly care about people.  I expect the worst while hoping for the best; I know I'm going to be disappointed in life because people will be people, and being a person means doing wrong.
I believe that there is a solution to every. single. problem.  I don't think it's easy, I think in some cases it will take YEARS, but I believe it's possible.  Compromise is a part of life, but so is compassion.
Charity is the strongest force on Earth.  It is the "pure love of Christ"; but it is also compassion, love, faith, service, wisdom, optimism, and so much more.  It encompasses the good and it is greater then the bad.
Everyone is equal but different.  We should be equal in rights and everything else, while still having different strengths and weaknesses.
And these are just a few of the things I believe.  I know I'm going to hit moleholes and make them into mountains; I know there will be actual mountains in the way I'm heading.
But, because I believe so strongly in so many good and beneficial things, I know I will make it.  I know doors will open for me, and I will do my best to make the most of every oppotunity to do and be good, better, and best.

Truthless

And, indeed, when one is lost in a sea,
A sea that never ends,
Faith goes flying like a bird, free,
Until it finally dies without land.
Try to be the best I can and it still doesn't feel good enough,
And there are times when it does and I cling,
Feeling this way can never bring anything but
Sadness, coldness, emptiness,
And a lack of hope, because it dies too.

Since when did everything I feel, I think,
Since when did it all hurt,
Trying to drag me to pieces, and others to pieces,
And nobody towards happiness?
It is hard and I say I can deal,
And I can, but I can't, it's hard to explain,
So no matter what I say,
It is always left the same.

This smile is a facade, and then it is a truth,
This happiness is mine, I am me nothing else,
I will stand alone if I must, as long as I'm in the right,
But it's hard to be alone.
So pull me to pieces if you feel the need,
But I swear I will put them back together,
Even if this world is truthless,
There must be something good.

3D Graphics Temple

We were assigned this in my 3D Graphics Class.  This is the finished version.  You can check it out.
I'm using Autodesk's Maya, like everyone else in the class.

Resolution

I am staring at the window.
It is empty, with a world that is full.
It is just a view, an image, a reflection.
Reflections can be all that are beautiful.
And I look in the mirror, I tell myself things.
"You are beautiful, they are jealous.
You are strong, they are insecure.
You are more, you have a Savior you know.
Don't forget yourself."
So I go through the day, a prayer in my heart.
A prayer that I will carry throughout the day.
It's a prayer about finding what to say when I grow weak.
A prayer about finding what to feel when I loose hope.
Because I believe in Christ, and my Heavenly Father, despite all the pain.
It's hard lots for everybody.
I come home crying anyway.
How can my Savior not be enough?
This is what keeps me going right now.
I am just looking for something to know.
It will be something to keep me strong when everything goes wrong.
The words that I can say will be something to keep forever.
Because, right now, it's not forever.
Right now it's only a minute, maybe, if I'm lucky.

People keep telling me contradicting things.
"You don't count."
"You're beautiful just the way you are."
"You're ugly."
"You matter."
I wish they'd all make up their minds.
Am I worth it or not?
I want to find the words I can say all the time.
They will be sweet, and always in my mind.
And everytime I get down they'll bring me back up.
The honest truth is that everyone has given up hope in some way.
What happened to endless hope, and faith, and dreams, of childhood days?
Honestly, I'm still hoping.
I'm hoping that people are good inside when I always am proven wrong.
I'm hoping that somebody cares just because they can.
I'm hoping that it gets better.
I'm hoping that I'll be happier then I have been.
I'm hoping I'll see the light, because right now I don't see anything.
I'm hoping I'll realize I'm wrong.

I look in the dictionary.
Resolution has two meanings.
It means a solution, which isn't going to happen.
It means being resolved, saying you'll do something and then doing it.
So then I have a resolution in one way at least.
I won't die until I find the words I want, and then I won't feel a need.
All this is temperary, and it will change.
My heart speaks words, and I try to be happy.
So I put on the smile, check myself in the mirror.
I need that perfect story, that perfect thing to hold.
I won't be perfect even though I try.
I take a deep breath, and I find the words to say.
They have no expectation, no pressure.
And they feel right in every way.
It's just to simply be.
Because I can do nothing more then be me.
And so I will simply be.

A New Perspective

Feet on the ceiling, stare at the
Circling shapes, they have wisdom in the
Change, without complaint they live in
Cycles, and I smile because I can choose my
Path, where I go, for life is hard but there is
Good, and one of these days I will be more amazing then their bitter
Words, which hurt and sting, but there is good even in the
Worst, and this I cannot doubt. It's amazing how faith can change your
Mind, make you realize and let you find all that is
Sweet, and so I look up now rather then down I am
Happy, instead of the sad I used to
Be. And yes, that smile you see is no
Facade, it's finally real and I shall be a light in the
Darkness, and when it is too bright to see I shall be like
Sunglasses because both are needed to find your
Way, and I won't forget how important it is to do my
Best, but not be perfect even though I am for it for it is
Impossible, but nothing is impossible - it always takes
Time, forever and ever. But forever and impossible do not
Happen, it happens eventually all time comes if we have
Patience, and wisdom comes in deciding to
Love, despite the heck you'll get for being something
Different, but we all know unique is
Beautiful. Be glad to be you because I am sure glad you're
Around, letting me know I am not alone and that is
Sweet, the bitterness is gone and
Indeed, time has given me something that we do not
Understand, nobody sees clearly until the time has come that was
Planned. Now I love with something better, it's a brand-new
View, a very amazing thing that's come with hope and faith and
People, because as awful as they can be they can help too and it's given me
A new perspective.

Urgh

People... Seriously.
Putting others down will get you nowhere in life.
End of.

And People Wonder Why I'm So Emotional

It's their fault.
Because, with actions, I've been told that I'm not trustworthy, that I'm unimportant, that I'm not talented or beautiful or even worthwhile.  That I'm hopeless and not worth working for, only worth giving up on.
Yeah.
Not everything says this of course, and I can't blame everyone else.  No, it's how I've inferred every compliment someone else has referred, every time someone tries to help me out with my weight when I'm telling them I know how, every time someone has turned away because I'm crying or upset, every time someone has told me something (other then constructive critism, which isn't negative in my opinion) negative about my writing, every time someone has refused my help, every time someone just walks out on me, every time nobody gives me a compliment about something I'm thrilled with.  Now, there's a LOT of specific times, especially recently when life is rough, but I'm not going to say them because mentioning names or people is wrong.
Every time I'm compared with someone who keeps doing bad things.
And that's what hurts.  And that's what's wrong.  All the actions that people think are harmless and how much they hurt.  That's why my heart is pretty much split in two with self-hatred and sadness and anger and hatred of others, with the other split into love of self and others and happiness and calm and peace.
Because guess what.  Every little word you say, every little action you do... it counts.

Young Women's Theme, Followed by a Poem

We are daughters of our Heavenly Father, who loves us and and we love Him.  We will "stand as witnesses of God at all times, and in all things, in all places" (Mosiah 18:9) as we stive to live the Young Women values, which are:

Faith
Divine Nature
Individual Worth
Knowledge
Choice and Accountability
Good Works and
Integrity

We believe as we come to accept and act upon these values, we will be prepared to strengthen home and family, make and keep sacred covenants, recieve the ordinances of the temple, and enjoy the blessings of exaltation.

~~~

A heart can be cut with a knife while still in the skin,
And unharmed the soul who was broken lives,
But there is two sides you can see,
White with love and black with hate,
The soot created by the hand of fate,
Yet fate says that love must come, still,
All is left, in the end, as two sides.

And one can tear themselves up, saying,
"I am never good enough, if I can't get this right,
Because I am more mature, or in the light,
But I failed so I must be awful."
And yet they know they are merely imperfect,
They can try again, and do better.

But while they know this, the fact is ignored,
Self-hatred becomes the downfall, and they try and find a way,
Finally they pick one, and they become ready,
And it can happen or be stopped,
Depending on any number of things.

"For I feel half-empty even though I overflow,
Pain I've always had, and hatred is new."
And that is why we fail, because hatred always is new,
And then it seems that love is too.

Pieces of a person, not real and only smoke,
"I have this knowledge that is greater,
Why can I not use it?"

Crying out into the storm, one piece of the puzzle torn,
A page that is a lie and a truth lost forever.

And in two, all is fallen.

IT'S A STORY (without a name. Kinda fail. Ha.)

Small.
Yes, that was the first thought I had.  So very small.  The container was not nearly big enough to hold the monster that I knew that magic to be, but May had said it would work.  So I had no choice but to believe her.
My hands shook, holding the jar, but it was necessary.  "How could a ghost jar work?" I asked May, and she said I'd see.  Sometimes the living are just plain daft, none of them ever noticing a thing, and as much as I hate to admit it that was me too, just a couple of days ago.
Days?  How could all this happen in days?
As much as it shamed me, I died stupid.  I really did, and it'll be embarrassing 'till the day I die.  I was playing on the tracks, being silly, and of course someone had to bring out a car, parking it on the tracks and waiting for a train to come so we could see how fast we could get out...
For some reason my door jammed.  Everyone else ran out, but my door was jammed.  I died screaming, stupid.  And of course I turned out a ghost, and that's how I ended here now.
Dead and stupid.
Staring at a jar, because the little boy with magic, he has a lot.  And nobody's smart enough to contain the magic.  Ghosts can't put blocks on it, but, according to May, trapping it when it comes out works.
So I skulk behind him, a little chill in the corner of the room.  I sit on the floor, forcing myself not to sink by whispering again and again to stay solid.
And then it happens, sort of like thunder and lightening.  He's angry at the teacher - the teacher's real mean, he is, and I'm angry too - and his magic comes out.  He's in this place, with everyone a jerk, because of it, and I open up the tiny jar.  The magic is drawn in.  It takes a full minute, and magic's fast.  I pop the cork in, and a small amount fizzles in the air, and teacher and boy are disoriented.  I leave the room, forgetting solidity.
I'm fascinated by the magic in the jar.  It crackles and swirls, an electric blue, but there's a little pink in there too.  May  could read it, May can read anything, but my aura it seems.  I don't have an aura, you see, even though I did in life.
It's very frustrating, because I should, but I don't.  May says some auras are hidden, but mine isn't.  It's just there.  I get to May's place with the jar and come back in.  The sight shocks me.
There's May, eyes closed and blood - blood! - trickling from her.  She floats in mid-air, and I run over.  The blood's ears, green but still red inside - Christmas, I think, it's the colors of Christmas - and it's coming from her.  Ectoplasmal blood?  Who'd heard of a thing?
I set down the jar of magic and poke the knife still left.  The knife's strange, too, and I start pulling on it, wanting to know.  My fingers stick to it, and I pull and pull 'till it comes out.  I'm left tired,  and as I sink down I stare.  A small swirl of white happened in the air, and I swore the thing just cut it.  Who'd leave this behind?
Who'd kill May?  The living people know of her, they think she's alive too, because she's good at disguises.  That's right...  I leave the knife to the side, then push her down.  I go digging through cabinents, and finally throw the powder on her.  All of a sudden she looks like a body, and I realize she's not going to go on.  The blood looks red, with a faint hint of green.  And I feel sick, because it's ruby.  I grab the knife again, and stumble.  I nearly cut myself with the thing, but keep it away.  I stumbled on something silver, and as I pick it up I realize what it is.
The knife fits perfeclty in it, the one thing it won't cut, and I tuck it away and pick up the jar.  I've heard of redeath, before, but it's usually moving on or temperary destruction - not unnatural impossible blood or knives.
Nothing... like this.
It's time to find who the knife belongs to - and, in turn, who killed May.

(Your one and only post of the story... enjoy.)

It will Happen

Amazing how words can touch the soul, the heart,
Break you down and make you fall apart,
And then, in darkness, let you rise again,
Sticks and stones will break the bones, shatter them to pieces,
But words will burn and freeze at once, killing in the inside.

Wisdom, it's knowledge that you should not have,
But experience or love gives you a guess,
Tasting of weakness, or of tomorrow,
Depending on your glass.

And take someone's hand and raise your voice,
Whether it's songs or love it's all your choice,
Because after all love does speak,
In words of kindness that do complete,
Life, wonder, a sweeter laugh,
Sugar-coated dreams that manage to last.

And action, when with words creates,
A new life and a better place,
After all one remembers the beautiful, the happiness,
'Till that bleak little grey comes and takes all that is good away.

Amazing, isn't it, how the smallest things always do the biggest things,
And the smallest hearts within the world, the unimportant and the lost,
(Or at least that's what has been told and felt),
Have the biggest dreams, trying, for they have learned their worth sooner.

Unthinkable, isn't it, how the harder the situation the stronger the soul,
Never cracking for there is something they know,
And how come I cannot learn the same, you cannot learn the same,
It is far beyond us, yet suddenly,
What is improbable is likely, for in those stories we are told
People keep living and loving.

For you are an important soul,
No matter how young or old,
And you have things to do and say,
And when it's time for you to go away,
The things will be done and said.

But your time is not now,
The people who need you may not have been seen, yet,
But time is slow, and it takes awhile,
But it knows where to send you,
And after pain and hatred and bitterness,
Finally you'll arrive, and change.

And whether this is good or bad,
Is all up to you.
You can change to a miracle sweet or a miracle bitter,
But it will be you, just like it is me.

So fall and break for we all do at some point,
And then, the scattered pieces of everything,
Pick them up, and set them down, neat this time,
And smile.

For only then you can find your way,
And know that it will happen,
Because it did.

Some Worth

Quietly she fell, falling,
Slipping out of love, invisible,
Easily replaced, and her heart is sore,
Broken and she kicks,
Tears that taste like salt, but it's better
Then all that is empty.

They kick at her, scoffing,
Words and soft invisible actions,
Or things left unsaid, uncompleted,
Hurts so she has no brain,
Hurts beyond thoughts and tears,
It's not always but it's constant.

She wonders what would happen if she's gone,
Doubting the love, doubting they'd care.
The way they treat her, she doesn't know,
Invisible, her face is shrouded in tears uncried,
Her heart is ripped to pieces by uncompleted consequences,
Loneliness eating at her soul, trying to rip it away.

So she sits there, feeling uncared for,
When she needed it the most they left,
Her thoughts turn towards aching things,
The colors run and the colors bleed,
It'll never be her why she's living.

Life, when it's good it is good,
But things always get worse, and she hides,
She smiles and inside she's breaking,
And the facade even fools herself, for a while,
But of course every little lie is torn down,
And she feels as if she has no worth.

So she stares at her heart as she falls asleep,
Weakly patching it up with a bunch of lies,
Happiness is an illusion, because deep inside that heart,
There's a competition of anger and hatred,
Happiness is there somewhere, and misery fights as well,
She will never truly be given some worth.

My goodness

Okay, so I'm on YouTube and I saw this commercial.  It started with a whole picture of Taylor Lautner, so I was like, "Oh jeez, something about Twilight..."  but it didn't sound like Twilight.  At all.  And it's this new movie, "Abduction".
How many people are going to see it JUST BECAUSE Taylor Lautner's in it (come on gals, be honest)?  It does look like a good movie though xP
ANYWHO.  If anyone's willing to do an ask-around or what-have-you to get information on how many people (specifically: girls) are going to see Abduction just because Taylor Lautner's in it, I'd LOVE if you could get that back to me.  It'd be hilarious.
Haha.

Melting Butterfly (poem)

At first it is soft, only brief,
Once in a while a flick,
But then it grows stronger.
Suddenly it is fighting fierce,
Living, loving, falling,
An insolent choice as blue turns to gold,
Gray turns to black, the smallest change.
It is amazing how this tiny thing
From frozen in ice to sudden life
Can bring such a change of mind.

Left There (poem)

Stop child abuse and bullying, guys.

The stiff-moved tear, an almost cry,
Staring down and wondering why.
The clawmarks and scratches should raise alarm,
But hidden with care, nothing is wrong,
It's just a lie, she's trying to be strong.
The younger watches, fear in her eyes,
She can do nothing for what's going on,
There's a knife in her pocket, she'll use it to kill,
She's sick of the words that hit her down.
During recess no teacher notices,
She's drawn away and to the side.
Then she snaps, the knife comes out,
But they steal and laugh, she grabs it back and dies.
Her sister is crying for hours on end,
Finally her father drags her away.
She stares at the form, miserable,
A tiny form just simply left there.
She is beaten for something she cannot control,
She sobs and she pleads for death.
A swift motion and it's granted,
And she, too, is left.

ARGH! EFFING IDIOTS!

Can people just, like, die?  I mean, seriously?  Everyone's a pain in the butt!

Am I the Only One Who Cares?

This is just a rant, but I'm really upset.

I thought getting Daddy out of the house would allow the Spirit to remain in the household.  I mean, even when you're angry the Spirit can still be there.  I'm talking about Heavenly Father's Spirit, by the way.
Anyway, so just now my mom got mad about something - it was kind of irresponsible of me but I don't want to say what it is because it's irritating - and she said the d-word.
Now, I've had my moments, and I've cussed (and even said the f-word a couple of times).  But I'm working really hard on that because I know that it's better to keep my language clean and sometimes I like to think to myself of having the cleanest, nicest language ever as a half-joke, half-truth...
But I asked her if she really had to cuss and she said yes, because she's getting mad.  PLENTY OF PEOPLE, plentyofpeopleplentyofpeopleplentyofpeople get mad and don't cuss.  And I don't want another Daddy in that aspect.

Soo... am I the only one who honest-to-goodness cares about the Spirit being in our home?

The Dancer

There's the grace that you must have,
he says and points at the dancer.
She spins and twirls, elegance,
an echo and a reflector.
That smile she wears steals your breath,
she is the description of beauty.
I could not steal that grace,
a thought that creeps across consiousness.
But it's done, like it always will,
and she falls, collapses.
Take her place, elegance incarnate,
and she quietly cries.
A pretty face, scarred with tears,
she tries to dance and fails.
Give it back, we can only borrow,
we cannot steal from the owners.
So she recieves the grace right back,
and once again is the dancer.

Cherish

Did you know
That flowers grow,
But what a slow growth that is.
They twist and turn,
Patience and impatience,
In and out, balance of
Left and right, wrong.
A lilting tilt,
An open warmth,
What is cherished falls.
But the flowers will always grow,
No matter what the world will show,
And so this one cherished thing remains.

Live, Laugh, Love (Accoustic Poem)

Life is brief, and only once,
Inside we bring our own happiness,
Variety comes when we dare to try,
Echoing out for the world to see.


Laughter is a sweet song,
Absolutely our only bite of perfection,
Under and over, what belongs.
Goodness is in the weak laugh,
Happiness is in the strong laugh.


Longing for the something more,
Optimism and comprimise,
Very much belonging to
Everyone: Love.

I'm not a big fan whatsoever of accoustic poems.  Dislike them less then limericks, though.

Apparently...

Apparently you can't express your religious beliefs unless someone directly asks to know more, even when you strictly keep to an "I believe" thing, without them being angry and upset and whatever.
Apparently you can't add anything remotely religious in writing without someone being upset by it, especially something meant to be uplifting, unless they're the same religion.

It's so stupid.

EFY Post

There is something to be said for a friend; something more to be said to a friend who becomes a hero.  It's strange how the heroes fade in our lives, sparkling lights that touch our very hearts.  From nameless, faceless heroes miles and miles away, to someone we've known since "forever" (and eternity), to someone who just smiled at us.  They let us know: The struggles you're having are yours, but you don't have to bear them alone.  (For Christians, they've been beared in the exact same way before).  Life is difficult, but worth it.
If this is the case, then I have one request.  Let me be one person's hero.  Let me show them charity, that amazing pure love of Christ, and let them know they're loved.
You, everyone who reads this, is a spirit son or daughter of our Heavenly Father, a sister or brother to our sweet Savior, and I want you to know:
I love you.  He loves you.
You are not alone.

Poems Are Easy to Understand

"Uhhh... what, Kuna?  Have you lost your mind... for reals this time?"

No, no I haven't.  But think about it.
Poems are personal intrepretation.  They're about what you think and feel while reading the poems.  And then there's the straight-forwared, black-and-white ones which clearly state what's going on.  And then there's one that are a mix of the two.  Black and white, but may have an underlining meaning up for personal interp (a good example - and one of my favs - is "The Road" by Robert Frost).
I mean, I understand that feelings can be hard to get.  They're not always clear, and often mixed.  Thoughts, however, usually are understandable.
So next time you read one of my poems, tell me what YOU think of it.  Because while I may have my own meaning, poems are about YOUR ideas.

Something (I Don't Actually Know), and This is a Poem

Some call me a dreamer,
But I am what I am,
How can I change?
I hold my hands pressed together,
Trying not to cry.
It's the simplest things these days.
I taste what simply is,
The existance of regret,
A tangy memory begot
Of broken hearts and slamming doors,
Walking out and nobody knows.
The suitcase is packed,
And I undo it all.
Shaking hands, sobbing heart,
I curl up in a corner of no escape,
I reach out and pull my hand back,
I don't want their help.
The ceiling's rough and so's my heart,
And slowly we're both falling apart,
The ceiling will one day be crumbled in dust,
And my heart will one day be fragments of what was.
I scrabble for that piece of love,
That day when I was happy.
Little ones never seem to notice such idle obvious things
Such as race or hair or clothes,
Like we do know,
Just to get an excuse to discriminate.
Little ones never have had any complications
Beyond stolen crayons and minor fights,
But what I've had is a hope that silently fights,
Its only shield the love that comes in and falls out,
Again and again.
So bruised, battered, broken,
I drag myself to another day,
I swear to love and break my heart,
Because when you love the world there's only disappointments.
But I've learned something in these fourteen years,
That disappointment is better then hatred, stark and still,
And if you're disappointed you're less likely to be bitter.
So I watch the sun and fake a smile,
I listen to a song,
I'm tied together with a smile, but I'm coming undone.
And I wonder to myself,
How could I be this way inside?
How can I feel so old when I'm so young,
And yet be a scared little girl?

ABSO-FREAKIN'-NOTHING!

Here's a song:
<iframe width="425" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/ob5i_hrmQ74" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
AND THERE IS NOTHING I WANT TO DO.  I want to do something - something - but my muse is all "blegh" and I look around and it's "No, nope, not that, nope..."  I mean, what the flip?
I've probably just been sitting here... bored... for the past ten minutes not doing anything.  I've tried checking the Neoboards, I've flipped back and forth between BT and Doll Palace stories...
And now I'm here.  I'll try Facebook now -.-

Kunabee has a gaaammeee!

Okay.  Well.  A kinetic novel.  Made with Ren'Py.  Yeah.  Ren'Py's awesome, by the way: www.renpy.org
So now I post it here.  Feel free to play it.  Comment to me about anything wrong or whatever; feedback is loved.  Just be polite!

Windows: http://www.4shared.com/file/aUOpgDth/The_Blue-win32.html
Mac: http://www.4shared.com/file/Mvj9j1oi/The_Blue-mac.html
Linux: http://www.4shared.com/file/0vEEvkhB/The_Blue-linux-x86tar.html

I'm also working on a different one (have been for a while).  I'm seriously excited, because it seems like it's possible.  The other one (which is long and actually a visual novel) is called "The Fire-Moon" and I am nowhere NEAR done.
But this is with a really long first part and a little bit of the second part, when there's four parts.  So.

Enjoy The Blue!

I Post Way Too Many Poems

It's true, I do.  I mean, look at my blog history.  Poem, poem, poem.  And then I post poems on The Doll Palace.  And on my guild on Neopets.  And... basically: People might read it, I FREAKING POST IT.
I'm not sure if that's normal o_o  Actually, fairly sure it's not.  BUT WHAAATTEEEVVVVERRRR, NORMALNESS IS BORING SO THERE! >D
Speaking of poems, HERE'S ANOTHER ONE =D
(and way too many caps ^)

Pat the ground and pat the heart,
A growth of which we are all a part,
Share this land and share this time,
I promise that it's not a crime,
To love, to hope, to show kindness dear,
How can we have gotten from there to here?

Solution (poem)

If I had a wish,
I'd wish for love to be shown and given freely,
No longer withheld, controlled, and ignored,
Instead, everyone knows someone cares,
And everyone really does.

If I had a wisdom,
I'd be wise in wishes,
They're slow to come and sometimes,
They will never ever come true,
But I'd know to believe.

If I had a belief,
It would be a belief in something bigger,
Bigger then you and me,
Someone who had a plan,
And loved freely.

If I had a love,
It would be towards the whole world,
Because it's hard to believe but so vital,
Yet it's easy to hope and hold out,
If you've never had pain.

Yes,  if things were simple,
These are how things would be,
But they're never simple,
Rather they pick the complicated road,
And the codes discourage all.

If there was a solution,
The solution would be for all,
Rather then just one or two,
It could save us if we only tried,
The solution is too hard to find.

Entwined Idea

It is strange how things turn out.  Sephosa and Lyran never expected to become entwined.  Mates in life, now they are eternally connected, forming the Heart.  Or so the legend goes.  As the statues and paintings of them hang in shrines abound, people have forgotten the Old Way.  Some believe Sephosa and Lyran do not exist, but they do.
Sephosa has grace and compassion, a tenderness to all around.  She provides protection and healing to N'yun.  Lyran is cunning and devious.  He tricks, but only those who have greatly hurt others.
Worshipped as gods, Lyran and Sephosa have forgotten they are only great spirits.  So the Greatest One has anger.  Yet in anger, there is mercy.
So Lyran and Sephosa will have their spirits trapped within two mortal lovers.  From here, they can do nothing but influence those who they are trapped in.  And N'yun will continue to worship them, until Lyran and Sephosa can cause the lovers to change.
If they fail within these mortal lifetimes, N'yun will be destroyed and Sephosa and Lyran will be seperated.

Interuption for the poetry.  Tell me what you think. *pokes above*

Gimp Rocks

So uh, I was messing around on Gimp.  I created this:

In my creation of "Old Man Stan" as I called him, I found out OMG YOU CAN MAKE LAYERS OPAQUE!!!!  I saw a fairly cool example of that, so I wanted to do it too!  This is what I produced:

I call it "Entwined" after the opaque lettering.  See that?  I'm really proud of this one.  GLOWING SNAKE... things.  I wanna create graphics for a website or forum or something now, LOL.

Anyway, I'm determined to incorperate "Entwined" into... something.

Whole

It starts out a piece of perfection,
But chipped, one single flaw,
That can save or break,
Crack or heal.

Some choose to work hard on that flaw,
So it's nearly invisible,
Almost completely healed,
And barely there.

Others, forget it or maybe they ignore,
And it cracks, spreading,
But they remain whole,
Just cracked.

And most break
No longer whole,
But a piece remains,
Always lost in time.

Some who break search forever,
Always looking for the piece,
They have a memory,
They are never complete.

Others work hard,
Patching with prayer and love,
They will be whole again,
They earn back the trust.

Most try but something pulls them back,
Everyone sees but nobody helps,
They're too scared but some aren't,
And they offer a guiding hand.

And the ones who recieve help,
Can go many ways,
Help comes in many forms,
Help comes in many ways.

Some accept the help,
And pull themselves out fast,
Out of the pit of despair,
Out of their own hell.

Others ignore the help,
They say it never comes,
They hate themselves and blame everyone else,
And fall back down again.

Most accept the help,
And then over time they gain love,
Faith, hope, dreams, and trust,
And find their place.

So in silence some sit,
Making themselves whole again,
So in silence some stay,
Wanting to be whole again.

In a rare case,
One shatters the person,
Someone else,
But they live on.

They always gather help,
They always love,
Fixing themselves with needle and thread,
And they do everything they can.

They pull themselves together,
They always stick together,
I was broken by another,
And I am whole again.

Regret - An I Am poem

I am the place of regret,
Where all go to in time,
But mostly those forgetful.
I wish that they would learn,
The people who tread in here,
It's only mind and mistakes are ordinary.
I understand how hard it is
To live and love
But how can we forget why we are born?
I say, "Can you not see?"
And they ignore  my words,
Or maybe they can't hear.
I wonder who knows such things as joy
When all I see is pain in their faces,
And it's not alright.
I am the sadness that they hold,
When they make a mistake,
And never do they learn.

Peace

Echoing halls and echoing hearts,
Both are empty, all a part
Of a grander scheme, a broken dream,
But still some find solace and peace.

The lightning-quick change as the river flows,
Falling off water falls and falling off hope,
There are some who sit in the middle,
Theirselves and at peace.

Five Questions

Why
Do we always assume
We are better?

What
Happens when we say
We have never?

When
Will we show what we say,
We have had enough?

Who
Will be the first to smile when,
We forget love?

Where
Can we go after all is lost and,
We think it's okay?

How
Can we possibly forget
What we share?

Re: Trinkets

My mother wrote a poem called "Trinkets" on her blog.  Check it out: www.myspacebetweenmyears.blogspot.com.  In response to that poem, I'm going to write a poem of the same name.  It shall be short.  It also turned out longer then I expected.

The box remains closed,
Yet with shaking hands it is opened,
And inside she places three things,
Hope, faith, and dreams.
Never let them be broken,
For they are my trinkets,
Her whispered words say.
And as she rids herself of the past,
The future dawns anew,
And with love and tears,
She gives it her all,
For no matter the misery,
The self-hate given to denial,
And regret, and unable to show his love,
She will always show what he never could.

And now I'm going to post another poem.

What I Know

Who promised life was easy?
Not a soul, not a single heart,
So in this damage I move on.
And, as long as I can I'll stay strong,
It's hard, it's rough,
But I keep my eyes closed,
Put my faith in the Lord,
Know that one day I'll get through.

Worthless

Wonder, wonder if it can be true,

If eternity is there,

If love still exists.

Because after a year it falls,

Or sometimes 17, 20, 100...

But once it collapses it's all left worthless.

And, staring at your face,

You know you're worthless,

It was you.

So then you turn around and change your mind,

It's brave to go on,

Scary to stay strong.

It won't repair what was there,

But you can build yourself up in time,

Even though it's still worthless.

And, staring at your face,

You pray you're not worthless,

It wasn't you.

Questioning Lies

It's a simple request with no simple answer,
How can I be this confused?
Yes, he says and he's lying completely,
No, he says and he's lying yet more.

What's the answer to this endless question?
Does he love us or not?
Today he came, said I was the best thing that happened to him,
Oh really, then why did you scare us so?

Why did you hurt me?
It's a soft voice, fluttering around,
Forgiveness, I yell and shove it down,
But it's all in my head and he's not really forgivven.

He's making me become bitter!
No, I'm becoming bitter because of what he did.
I always thought I was stronger, better,
Looks like I'm weak after all.

After all the pain, and the hate,
Needlessly given,
Looks like its him
Who takes the cake.

I don't hate him, I can't,
When he came in today and cried,
I saw the good man inside.
Please, just make it easy.

I know he can't stay.
I don't want him too.
But I do, I want the person who's hardly there,
Once upon a time my mother says he was good.

Why does good always leave?
Bad usually leaves too,
But his is staying.
I need answers to my questioning lies.

I can't help but hate the bitterness in me,
The pit, the rock, the darkness all-consuming,
Today I saw the good man inside,
Where's he gone?

I've tried, my mom's tried, but nothing seems to work.
It repeats in my head, again and again,
Today I saw the good man inside.
But usually, it's hidden by the bad.

Gone

What is gone?

Sometimes it is leaving inside

And all that’s left is an empty shell.

Other times, it’s someone who goes away

Because they’ve stopped loving and don’t care anymore.

Gone can be the one who’s forgotten who they are

And forgotten how to care.

Or maybe it is when someone looses hope and faith

And forgets how to love

And everything is gone.

One day all we know

And all that we don’t

Will be gone,
Leaving us behind,

Empty and void.

So then why do people keep trying,

Pushing through and running,

Hoping, believing, forgetting, and loving,

Hating and glaring, ignoring,

When things will end?

It took me a while

To find the words to say

To learn of why things don’t stay the same

To learn of why there are those who try

Who hope to make it to a better place.

But now I know,

Despite beliefs, longings, and forgetting,

There is something more,

And in everyone's heart they know,

Someday, even pain will be gone too.

Find

Silence can hold so many things,
A treasure box, a wonder, new.
Brilliant is the world if you only know how to see,
But nobody knows how to see
Past the hate and shame and pain,
Bitterness turning gray,
Nothing's ever into simplicity.

The one who understands is gone away,
And the one who dares to try never stays,
And those who fade into the crowd are everywhere.
It's blind as follow-the-leader comes along,
Too scared to try, too scared to stay,
Terrified to go.

And the step is taken, the breath is taken,
Breathe, just breathe and let it out,
Take it in there's brilliance,
So hard to see the worth
When everything turns to gray.

Left as empty husks despised,
We were filled with hate but hate just steals.
Love is forgotten but it always was,
And those who hope can only be naive.

Who here used to believe? Everybody
We can't ever forget the days of faith.
Where's all the faith?

So the bleak world comes crashing in,
And it's made strange and bitter and filled with hate.

So we run away to find the good things.

Remain

Shaking hands, bitter taste,
Wait, and wait, and wait,
Deep breath in, slow breath out,
Ebb and flow, ebb and flow.
Take that brave step forward, little one,
Your journey has barely begun.

Weakly comes the darkness bright,
Flooded with bitter light,
As right is wrong and wrong is right,
Good and bad fight the same side;
But we're all alike, aren't we dear,
Unseen glories echoing near.

Oh but this world is just sad and bad,
Turned cold and hot with bitter hate,
And everything that is creation,
Shall fall to destruction;
For when we decide we are the better,
Nobody is good.

So brokenly the bodies lay,
The hearts ripped out in the sand,
Hope was once, hope was grand,
And dark and light hope is no more.
So fade away just like the rest,
The tears of memories fall.

And carefully there are those who sew them all together,
Who fix the wars and fix the bitter,
They are killed faster then most,
And less and less are around,
The hate shall win,
But the love will sound.

Destiny

The broken shattered hand that reached out for trust and faith,
Put your faith in it, little ones, for it's all that remains,
And the more you try the less you recieve,
It can never be anyone's sweetest bitter dream.
The indecision, hover, waiting to make the right move,
The right time is irreplaceable even if you knew.
And so, glory to the cold-hearted cruel ones,
While we remain weak in the merciless chains of love,
But somehow we doubt that it is evil.
Raise your head up somehow, past the bounds of their jealousy,
Reach your hand high and up and out, waiting to see,
Because if you try the trust and faith route,
Then miracles are beyond destiny.

A poem written in the style of "Reflection" (another one of my poems).  I'm pretty proud of it.  It's more hopeful then "Reflection" is ;P

But I wish my dad could make up his mind...

It

The anger in the voices, I hear them all,
They scream and shout and I begin to doubt
Who am I?  Am I even worthwhile?
It's a hard sad fact when you're powerless.

It's the screaming and the slamming doors
The cracking glass on the broken windows
The walking out, not knowing if he'll come back
And wondering if you even love him.

It's the whispered prayer,
The door closed and the choked sobs,
Music's up even more, then louder,
So you can't hear a word.

It's the forgotten papers laying on your desks,
And dreams and hopes that shatter,
It's you wondering if this family can be forever,
And if he even loves you.

It's the slap across the face as your heart breaks,
Knowing things can never be the same,
And doubting that it will get better.
You've given him chances.

It's the slamming doors and screaming voices,
The cracking glass of the broken window,
The walking out, hoping he'll never come back,
Wondering if you're finally free.

It's the feeling bad because you don't know,
When it becomes empty once again,
It's the wondering if he even cares,
The regret you hold for not being better.

The knowledge it's all his fault,
The belief that it's all yours,
And your mother cries you know she's hurting,
You want to be strong but don't know if you can.

The taste of anger; there's nothing more bitter,
It freezes and burns and tries to break you
I'm hoping he'll walk away but that he'll stay
What was good, is no longer.

Is he going to walk out again?
Mama just say go if he doesn't,
I want him gone from this place forever,
I remember a happy time.

Daddy why can't you get a grip?
I've lost control of all I've known
Please just let go of the hate that's consumed you;
Either that, or walk out.

If you're gonna leave the thing that's worth it,
If you're gonna turn your back on keeping us together,
Then get out because I don't wanna see you ever again,
Oh but Lord, just let him stay and get things better.

It's not worth it to feel this pain
It's not worth it to cry.
I'm not bitter, I'm just cold.
I'm sick of all the hope being broken.

...My parents are fighting again.  I wonder if it'll ever get better.  Daddy, don't leave the church.  I already doubt if I love you.  I already doubt if you love us.
Don't prove that you don't.
Don't make it worse.

Untitled Poem

Today is today and tomorrow is another,
Just one step at a time with fingers crossed,
But I trip and fall, don't we all loose out?
With the things we forget and the things we don't know,
It seems that knowledge comes in broken-down pieces,
And in the end it seems sad and strange,
An eternity turned to dust.

I don't know what I am I don't know what I'm doing,
All I know is that I'm a terrified little girl,
And in many ways I feel so old because as I wander,
Knowledge too big for one head to handle,
Knowledge unknown is too much to handle,
It'll all be gone one day.

So I try to put my faith and trust out there,
While still trying to survive,
Who else is there to do it?  Who else could be me?
The answer is nobody.
We're born of hatred instead of love
We're given scorn instead of good,
And we could never remember how much we're loved.

But I believe in someone called God,
He sent His Only Son to Earth,
So I can only remember that I am loved.
I raised to believe that I am powerful, wonderful, beautiful,
And that the whole world is the same.
All we need is a little love,
And it's a whole eternity changed

Events of Today.

Yaay.  I needed to type one of these!  Two events.  Yaaay.

Event #1: This is a second-hand story with a few parts with me.  There's boys A, B, and C.  So Boy A throws salsa at Boy B, and it gets aaallll over his favorite shirt.  Boy B tells Boy C and they both call Boy A the n-word without actually saying it.  Now, I hate the n-word.  I despise it.  I wish it never was.  But it exists.  So waaahhh about things I can never change.  But Boy B and Boy C are some of my friends (Boy B being a best friend) and I didn't like hearing the disrespectfulness of them using such an awful word.  I don't think Boy A was black, so... but I'm not sure because I don't know Boy A.  Not like using the n-word is ever okay.

Event #2: I got nominated for Pride of the Pride awards.  I had an honorable mention for Communicater.  YAAAYYY!  Anyway.  This leads me to thinking.
1) There are a lot of people out there who are still excited about life and are half-decent.  I think I know why - one, I can be really quiet and shy (according to my mother at certain times, I have "self-adviocacy issues").  Two, I can be really loud and all get-out-there.  I think this dual nature might be a little frighening, no?
2) All my good traits come from my compassion.  I have an honest-to-goodness heart about people.  And even when I've done bad stuff (mostly... *shiftyeyes*) it's because I've been caring about someone (including myself.  Hey!  I need to take care of me too ;P)

Anyway.  That's all.
Wow.  Shorter then I expected.

REMINISCING:
Three events in third grade.  I had my worst behavior then.
1) I told a teacher who shall be dubbed Mrs. B to go to heck.  Literally heck, NOT the other word.  One week on the WALL.  No recess play-time, basically.
2) I tried to sign a kid's slip that his dad wasn't given/didn't sign.  One day on the Wall.
3) Two boys were tormenting me and saying that in a month, they'd shoot everyone down in the school.  I responded with, "Well, in a month when I learn to play my flute, I'll call birds to peck your eyes out so you can't!"  They got to Mrs. S (who I didn't like, and never smiled except for ONCE (at me, too ;P) and didn't like anybody) first.  I had to go to the Principal's Office.  The two boys?  They got off scott-free ;-;  Me, who was a good kid except for the first two events, got the Wall for a week.
And another event:
4) I pulled on a girl's scarf because she was eating the first snow of the year, and my parents had told me that was bad.  The next snow I ate some, and was embarrassed because she saw me.  Haven't cared either way since.