they say she's impassioned, unromantic, bitter, mean, and cold with no emotion. with a laugh she's tells them "yeah i know." they'll never know that with each taunting reminder, it becomes less and and less true. one day it'll all leak out and they won't be ready for it.

impassionate because if she loses herself into a situation or emotion how will she pull herself out?

unromantic, not, she's simply awkward and doesn't know how to approach it. why is it deemed unromantic just because you're afraid of doing something wrong, fumbling, or doing something embarrassing?

bitter, maybe, sometimes but not always. it's a disguise that helps any kind of inner turmoil pass through and as always they'll never know.

mean, yes she can be. but who can be human and not feel the need to inject pain sometimes. but maybe those times they thought she was being mean it just came out wrong. why don't they get that her thoughts are always in disorder and everything hits her at once making it difficult to sort her thoughts. feeling pressured she'd have no time to sort it out and she says whatever comes to mind first. be it duck when she wanted to say chicken.

cold, never. they like to remind her of that fact. do they realize it's not true. do they realize that they've been cold too? she just doesn't tell them. but yet they have no problem telling her. what exactly is being 'cold'? is it showing no emotion? must she display her emotional anxiety to let them know she's human? why must she sacrifice herself, lay herself as a fish to be flayed alive by those around her?

she has black heart, hole where there should be a heart, and blood made of metal and acid.

like knives

she has lost contact.

she stands back
everyone around her talking, smiling, arguing...playing. why is it so hard for her to take part in it but then she realizes that it is near her.

everytime it is there she becomes...stalled. stalled in life itself.
she can't control it
for it is near. the only thing she can do is gaze,
there it is.
all thoughts rush to her head, so much, too much. there is no chance of impulse because it is near. so many if's, but's, or might have's, so many it hurts to even think. so much she becomes lagged.

still in her spot she sees herself move in slow motion, reaching for that opportunity, her hand stretches out but something pulls her back. There are strings attached to her hands, consciousness and realization.

and so she is stalled

she looks around and she can envision herself within that realm. walking around as if she was apart of that place and not feel lost and not have to look at the the street signs or familiar sites to find her way. soon she will no longer need to look up to find her way, one day she'll be drink coffee and reading a newspaper and just walk on blindly to her destination. she will greet those around her with familiarity. she will learn new things and a new language. one day she'll bring other people and give them a tour of her one room shelter. is it too much to hope? is she setting herself up for a downfall? will it be too much for her to handle? will she cave within the first week?

she can't do this. she can't handle one day living away from home. she'll freak out of paranoia. she'll be frighten of the dark in her own one room apartment. she can't live more than two minutes away from a convienence store. she doesn't like to spend her own money. how will she do it?

she'll just look at it as a challenge, something that you only have to endure and push through to get something bigger in life.

3 days in a row. looking at her handy work she's appalled at the fact that she's sucked back into her blogging days. as she look at last two days she feels the urge to write. about what? she doesn't know. she just feels the need to write feeling as if she's devoted to it like religion. maybe it's the feeling of an audience, a listener tuning in that makes her want to write everyday. such a shallow reason. shouldn't she write for her own purpose?

but shallow as it is, it somehow turns into something more.

she's becoming too attached to him.

everytime, everytime she tries it somehow comes out wrong. for every word she utters, it comes out the opposite. why is that she fails at her attempts of small talks. her throat becomes dry and it feels like her mouth is full of cotton. her face becomes hot and red out of anxiety. her words becomes muddle as she tries to sort out her brain. and that's when she gives up and slowly she'll lose her capabilities to talk, to socialize, to be human.

L: sometimes, history is obtain through the many journals that people kept in their time. it just makes me wonder about now and how we depend on technology to keep our records. sure the government also keeps back up copies of their information on paper but what about us, the people. where will our history go? some of us don't realize that the many times their computers just died on them or the many pda's that have malfunctioned after a while, it's all lost history. for everything you do you need a hard copy and that's the issue, hard copies take space and soon we will no longer have the luxury of space to just toss things into anymore.

this monday, china had an earthquake that can be linked to almost 20,000 deaths so far. after reading the "The Short History of Progress" it came to my conclusion maybe this was like the author said, nature is the main source of population control. think about it, in 1976 another former earthquake had hit shanghai, china. Almost 30,000 died from the result. Even then china's population was at it's max and it did nothing to stunt china's growth in population. To have an earthquake where the population is at it's max and where people are situated extremely too close to each other is just too horrifying to me.

Even though too most it's a tiring topic but to me there's no "believing" in global warming. it's happening. it angers me when people just flip it off because it's been tired out. why is that we like to disregard the obvious? or is it that mentality of "it's not happening yet" just overwhelming the brains of most. but that's the thing, it is happening it's just not affecting us extremely. For godsake's Alaska's glaciers that has not melt more than a few milimeters per decade had now lost a land mass as big as a football field.

I will end this now only because I have too.

it hits her. her very life or her surroundings are changing much faster than she expected. standing still, the noises around her becomes muttled and garbled as her mind is trying to mold to the concept of this change. it's as if she was sucked into this frozen state. she can see the shadows of people walking around her but they seem to be moving as fast as the change that seems to be taking place before her.

things will be better when she finally accepts the facts and faces reality.

they're moving on and so should she. she's not going away just expanding and changing as she should. life is forever changing and so should she.

but there's no doom and gloom kind of feel about this. she will embrace it in strides. she will become part of the shifting flow. life here she comes.

L: hehe this is fun. i'm just writing random things that come into mind, as if, as if i had the chance to write a story. if I could, i'd piece all these random situations together and form a solid story. but I am incapable of doing so because honestly it would just wreak havoc (wondered if i used that correctly) to my brain.

it is her duty to fatten them slowly and gradually. it is her duty to allow the atrocity of mankind to eat endlessly and nonstop. it is part of a plan to exstinguish the entire human race. we don't see it but the government is also aiding her in the process. she is part of a cult that will be the downfall of those who chose to participate.

her spirits are high and along the greenhouse-like hallway she walks with a skip. all around her people are tending to their own business, awaiting the fresh new afternoon and contemplating what they're doing next or what they must do.

she reaches her destination, disappointment settles over her but not too long because she knows he'll show up eventually. Up and down the stairs she went. Hoping that he's pop up eventually but he's nowhere to be found. 10 minutes passed of her just hoping, desperately and pathetically to see if he'll show up. a feeling of despair came over her. she looks around, feeling alone, she tries to avoid the stares of others walking by her and hope no one notices the emotions she currently wears on her face. but her hope still goes on, finally she gives one last look and is only rewarded with an empty space.

it would've been full-blown dark if it weren't for the street lights illuminating the sidewalks and streets. the air is cool and every now and then there's a gentle breeze that brings in a nice chill to the bone.

she's sitting on the stoop of her apartment and across the street you can hear voices from the night bar cheering and wooping for whatever sport's team they're supporting.

besides her sits a man, a man of good stature and a lazy walk. his chin is covered with stubble from two days' growth. he's a young man at that. he stares at her with sincere emotions, emotions she can't seem to reciprocate. His eyes are hooded and he gazes at her with love. it hits her hard, so hard that she can feel the love phyically stamping, not stomping, on her heart and at that moment a gentle breeze came that sent all the emotions that were around them straight to her bones. she can feel the rawness of it and the sincerity of where it's coming from.

but she knew, she knew in her heart that if she were to ever lose that love it would be her fault. it's her fault because she never tried hard enough, she never showed her emotionss, she was stone cold, and she rarely said those few words that meant the most to him.

and if she didn't try hard enough will he find another and find that other person more accomodating than she did. she looks down at the stone stoop to hide her creasing frown and looks back up to consider his face. he looks back at her and says,

h: you've got to keep me in line, keep me wanting you. I don't know, there's lots of girls at college. Lots of hot and pretty girls.

she looks at him with a calm smile that tells him, "nah, you're never going to cheat on me." and that's the thing, the truth is he will never cheat on her but he can fall out of love with her. if she didn't give it her all she will lose him.

They walk in front of her or behind her, never beside her. It seems as if she can never reach them. Either she's too far ahead or behind. Walking behind them she wonders about the future they will all have. In the dark she contemplates about how this all happened and how detached she has become. In her head she's screaming out, "look at me! I can't breathe, I'm choking on every little word. Hard as I try it won't come out. Why won't it come out! Tell me!"

All she hopes is that they won't turn back and see her inner turmoil.

She carefully looks at the brownie before her. Its square shape and sugariness mocks her. She takes a bite and the taste, the sensation of the taste delights and excites her. She hears a melody at each and every bite she takes. It hits her, the chocolately deliciousness. Suddenly, it all ends. The chocolate becomes this distant shadow that will never leave her. It stays, constantly reminding her of the layers of flaws. Each one building as she looks at herself in the mirror.

[yesterday's]

Opening her calendar, she looks over the months that have past, that is now, and that will come. And it hits her, the end of a familiar routine. Change is so dramatic for her. To think of making new aquaintances, making new friends. It gives her hives just thinking about it. She's fine with moving out on her own and living on her own...but to mentally take the time to befriend someone, it gives her rashes.

It hits her. An idea. It shall be a narrative. A more accurate and truthful paradigm. And free reign thoughts

The morning, it comes and goes by so fast it makes her wonder whether or not it'll be her last morning.

Groggy eyed she stretches and looks at the watch on her hand. 6:10 am. She decides to go back to sleep. All she wants to do is to drift off forever and forget about waking up at all. Maybe if she does accidently over sleeps she can just spend the rest of the day in bed, doing who knows what.

She turns her head on the pillow and sees out of the corner of her eyes her sister waking up to take a shower. Her eyes closes and she drifts of into blackness. 20 minutes later she wakes up. In her mind she thinks, why is it neccessary to wake up at all because one day, one day you won't wake up at all and all that you have been through, done, seen, taste, smelled and felt would have been nothing but a mem.. no not even that. It's your memory, so even that would be lost.

later.

Lisa: Dude! I fixed it.