Wednesday, August 31, 2011


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.

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

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.

Monday, August 29, 2011


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

Sunday, August 28, 2011

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.
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:

Divine Nature
Individual Worth
Choice and Accountability
Good Works and

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.

Thursday, August 25, 2011

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

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.)

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

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.

Saturday, August 6, 2011

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.

Monday, August 1, 2011

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.