Why is blogger being an asshole??

Y+Y=FUN/B+Y=Balance/W+Y=Frustration/R+Y=Explosions///Coded.Betch.

Toy in a game

You have liked the same guy for a very long time, you feel that he likes you too. The two of you are always flirting back and forth. You wanted to make something more from your friendship, you thought he did also. The only problem is he's dating a very close friend who actually snatched him out of your hands three years ago. You think to yourself about how he treats you and how they always fight. You fill up with hope thinking maybe if she were out of the picture you two could be together. But no matter how much he compliments you or makes a point to be around you, or holds your hand, and rubs your legs, or gazes at you when he thinks your not looking...he still loves her. Some how he does. And she loves him. And you love them both. All you want is everyone happy, a little peace for all. But no. The only ones whom are at all happy are them. they have each other, they have you.

You are a best friend, and the perfect playmate. You can't have both of them, though you want them. One to give your everything to, and one to be there for everything.

You are not but just a toy for his love games.
And you were right from the beginning.
Being alone ensures safety from this, the worst kind of pain.

Stop This Game...lover

I just want your hand in mine.
Your arm.
My arm.
Intertwined.

I'm sick of this shit.
I've had enough.
I want you.
It's not that tough.

Move past the people in our lives.
Be happy for once.
Be free to be mine.

Three years of waiting.
Three years of pain.
Loving you has been in vane.

Stop this game.
End it now.
If you want me.
Show me how.

*/Sick of this game. Tell me what I want to hear!\*

Out There
by Ade

“How could anyone be so incredibly deranged!” I woke up to my roommates “raised voices” in the kitchen downstairs. So I pulled myself out of bed, and out the room, down the hall, down the stairs and into the kitchen. Just in time to see Anne march out the door. Soon followed by Pab who stopped to glance at me then continued on his chase. Rubbing my eyes I step towards the kitchen window thinking “why do things have to be so loud on a Tuesday morning?” No, afternoon. Hell, I’m not even sure if it’s Tuesday.

I thought for a moment about finding out what the big deal was this morning. But instead I grab some coffee, warm and old but still caffeine. Walking into the Den, I flick on the tube. News, the same news I watched last night. Or was that last week? I should really find out what day it is. Leaving the TV on, I walk to the bathroom and sit on the counter, looking into the mirror. Apparently I cut my hair at some point. And dyed it too.

But thank God I still have the same nose, and all those familiar features. No surgery for this face. Nope. Anne had some work done I do recall. Her nose looked good before but she didn’t agree. She’s already thinking Botox at our age. Some people.

Bored with my face. I grab Anne’s makeup, put on some eyeliner. Nice and dark. Just how she hates it on me. Always telling me I should try lighter tones, more natural colours. Lime green lipstick is natural to me.

But I decided against more makeup; instead I grab Pab's shaving cream and make a shaving cream beard and walk out of the bathroom. Off to Anne’s room, I squeeze into her best, tightest jeans. Leave my dirty clothes from last night … or last week on her floor.

Walking into Pab's room in jeans and a bra, a bra I don’t own. His room is clean. That’s not Pab-like. I open his top drawer; there isn’t anything in it.

His closet is full. Full of jeans and band shirts and his one dinner jacket from two years ago when we went shopping for my date. He bought my shoes and I bought his jacket.

I grab the jacket, walk downstairs, and out onto the patio. Looking over the edge. The grass needs to be cut. I walk in to the kitchen. It’s 11:00. Bet they’re walking hand in hand now. I wipe off the shaving cream beard and make some toast.

After toast I decide to take a shower. I head upstairs, knocking happy pictures off the wall.

I step into the shower, run the cold water, and sit down.

Running my foamy fingers through my short hair.

Outside on the front step, I start thinking on occasion; I’m known to do that.
I think that if they walk up that street right now and they are holding hands, shirts inside out, and light “shimmer,” pink lipstick on Pab’s ironed collar. I may just get up and run the other direction. I also think I might stay and tell Pab how I feel. While I’m thinking all of this, Pab walks up the street. Alone.

I'm a disapointment to my peers, and a lover of grunge. I know you want me. But I don't live for you.

Quote from 'Lockpick Pornography'-Joey Comeau

"What seems to be the problem, sir?" he says, and it's like he's reading lines out of a fast food manager script. Everyone talks the way they're supposed to these days. It's like we've become the voices for our institutions.

Conflicted lover of one, desperate 'despiser' of all

Mothers Daughter.
Feeling the need to warn the world.
Never satisfied.
Ever searching.
Lonely.
Fleshy creature.
Prone to absurd musings.
Exaggerator extraordinaire.
Pessimist/Extremist.
Reality check in form of human.

Forbidden, but unforgettable

that bit of eye contact, and I know it's true...and I hate you for it. But I love it too...

If I had, but one thing to say...

I hoped to see you today
Do what you must and may.
I will ..not stand in the way.

Predators surround me now.
Wishing my demise.
You do what you need to.
I'll be running for my mind.

We stand together but alone, I am.
Not yet have I found a common friend.
With the masses I do walk.
But with a different tune, I talk.

Wishing only for freedom.
Hoping for a voice.
Within.

When you let a child play with a knife.
He will stab you and take your life
And when that child is a man, rule you he will.
Becuase he can.

When you can not stand tall.
Be sure your voice is far from small.

The deed.

I'd desperetly like to see you, even for a little while. But greedy is what I am, you make me smile. And how else does a child of an impending revolution, profess a certain caring? Friends are harder creatures for sharing. All curious and cunning, wanting to know but not. Learning to love these people, I've yet to meet a tougher lot.

What we do for our stomachs

The sun is shining through the trees..I'm happy.I twist twist and twist again.It is broken. Now we can eat. Mmm chicken.

When they have to resist you

You are the love drug of desire. The embodiment of human lust. And there is nothing or no one who will break that bond except time. Time, that crule child. With all it's witnessed and not a drop of experience.

A dreamers place is in a world I can not enter. So dangerous to fall into where your mind is clouded and your vision blurred. Center, gravity, freedom, all totally lost.
So Addictive, that state of mind is. So alluring and delish.

Avoid! Avoid! My mind cries.

But as usaual, and typical being as human as I've noticed I am, my heart says something at a wisper that disturbes my mind. My heart has been silenced which I've been told is wrong. Hasn't been a wisper , hasn't been a song. Not a sound made for so long.

For the hurt and young

Dave says (10:46 AM):
i hope i wont have to keep looking
Lawns For Losers says (10:48 AM):
lol well don't get too deep to fast. Stay in reality. Belive me nothing hurts more on this planet than falling too hard.
Lawns For Losers says (10:48 AM):
Dangerous stuff this game we all play
Lawns For Losers says (10:49 AM):
I'm a realist for my own safety

When your tired and feeling down Mrs. Brown . . .

You wind up doing the strangest things, sometimes you bend the rules in your favor. Knowing their still there if you need them. Or you break the rules maybe even completely ignor them. What then? How do we judge you, oh mover of rules? Are you not but one person manipulating the universe around you? Do we all obtain that power, and choose to be a rebel aginst the rebelious ones?

How do you decern who you are amungst the many?

We are all rebels in a perpetual state of confusion and power over the universe that controls us as much as we control it.

How depressing.

Unsuspecting young men fall fast into depths of trust.
It is an unfortunate thing.
Aquired at a biological level I assume.
Transfered through the fathers genetics to his son.

Thus leaving him unbelivably vulnerable to a womans manipulation.

Crusty limitations

Those lame movies where everyone close to the protagonist is an antagonist . . .suck.
When they come to life, they suck more. But in the end the part I hate most is when the protagonist finds love and they conquer the hardships presented to them, together.

What a crock.

And even when it happens to me I'm bored and leave to go to the bathroom just to step back, put on some lip gloss and hate that I have to go back.

Romantic sad face

I don't know if it's romantic, but I heard the rumors are true.
I heard all the people, were comming here to prove...
I was right all along, I was never not true...
I gave my self to others, just so they could chew...
I was looking for the answers, my own personal missing link.
But now the people are speaking to me, telling me they all knew.
This is the end, my peices given back,drained of the love I looked for
Lost in the darkened abiss for all to see.

Trouble

Sweet thing, almost too innocent.
Not me though, learned my lessons early on.
Can't take it slow when ya want to just go go go.

Jack likes Joe, Jill likes me, this is how it was never ment to be.
Things have changed, rearanged. Made this complicated for me.
You've got to know the rules. That were never wrote down.

Fighting off both sides, and struggling to find.
A possible like mind. Hard to belive this is how is goes.
If they planned this, no one knows.

Been going on for so long, the "new thing" they call it.
They're so very wrong.

Belive what you want, do what you must.
Some would say in humanity we trust.

O+ Tote This Moat +O

It is unlikely to find a person like me anywhere near myself. I want to run away and still stand and fight. I want the day sky blue and yet as dark as night. I want to have my salad, and eat it too. I want to stay the same, and try everything new. Make my bed, and sleep on the covers. People like me . . . well, there are no others.

:::Observations of the unkind:::

Sticking your hand out the window and forming a peace sign, does not make you an activist. It just makes you get hit by unsuspecting bugs, which hurts like polka dots and plaid. = /