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Writing helps me relieve stress.
Go ahead and judge my writing skills, not what I write about.

Friday, December 10, 2010

Going to watch Easy A.

A chain of raging emotions cling to my collapsing chest, creating a dark shadow suffocating it. The explosive chains rub against the ends, instigating an awaiting fire, trying to find any way to erupt. It traps me and I feel as though I’m being swallowed with no way to escape. The heat increases and my shallow chest is flooded with uncontainable, engulfing flames.

Unknown to me, any other option of releasing such vile daggers piercing through my shaken chest besides quick, witty, uncalled sarcastic comments that add unnecessary spice into mushy, lovey-dovey conversations that help sharpen the daggers that imprint me. Unwanted guilt rushes through me as I hear the cold, harsh words I have just spoken, repeated as I playback the rude interrupted scene in my throbbing head.

Sick of all the perfection in the air, I just want out. If only I knew another way to let out my pain that burns through my chest always ready to jump out. Causing other people pain and disbelief through my own is what I avoid the most. Trust me, I'm still looking for another method. The splendid dreams I have only become horror in reality, taking the most out of me. I’m sorry, to all those I’ve hurt. Get the hell out of me, to those trails of discomfort.

Thursday, December 9, 2010

Studying economics.

A worn out heartbeat, like a drum beaten countless times, lacks a life of its own. Surrounded by ordinary friends with perfect lives, that have everything that one soul could only beg for but convinces itself that it’s impossible to own. Claimed perfection smothers it, causing rages of jealousy and unnecessary pain in this hollow being. There is nothing left for it to claim. Tears trickle down into the shallow pool of darkness, hoping to find some enlightenment through these explosions of emotions. However, no light or other from the outside can see this undying pain release. The soul allows no such thing as it feels being captivated and closed in will cause less judgement and in the long run, less pain.

I need to write.

No, I need to study.

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Abusing “xx.”

Also known as xoxo. Back then, rare letters. X and O. Only used when sharing hugs and kisses. Now, just a couple of letters used to end a conversation. Not a symbol of love just letters that follow a “goodbye.” If you said it to me before, it would’ve meant you felt something for me. But now, how can people truly show their feelings? How can they hint affection when everyone around uses the code without thinking twice?

Behind the lens.

You sit there, head tilted as far as you can tilt it, attempting to smile with your eyes. Something you’ve convinced yourself would make you look far more beautiful than just looking straight into the camera lens and smiling. A method of showing emotions, according to you. A method of proving your stupidity, according to others.

You spend hours, sitting, and staring into your reflection. Often times you look up photos of others who’s lives you wish you had. You post photos of them and you envy them. You go on and on about them. However, you detest it when others call others pretty because you believe only you have the right. And when others compliment you, you cause an argument just so you can keep hearing the praises. You’re not that beautiful as you think you are, dear.

Then you attempt to write but everything you write, is related to something you insist you avoid. Drama. Must you call someone a b*tch in every post you write? Hypocritical, that you are. You post that no one likes her, but you only have three friends. People are only nice to you so they don’t have to stir up drama because that’s something you just love to do.

You hurt others. While you play games with this one guy, who’s fallen deeply for you, you post that you want him. But if you really did, why haven’t the cards been laid down after three months? Every other day, the posts of “him” change. It’s a different guy each time, and everyone can see it. It hurts him to the core, but you’re too blind and distracted with thoughts of what game you’re going to play next. All you want to do is win.

You aspire to be someone but until you come clean with yourself, you’re still going to be that lonesome girl sitting on that chair trying to look beautiful for that camera, while you hurt other peoples feelings. It’s materialistic but it’s the only thing you can rely on to be there whenever you need it. In the end, a camera only captures it’s subject by the look on the outside. With no knowledge, whatsoever, of the inside. The easiest to fool.

Happy Birthday, baby girl.

Just six days old, I held her in my arms. Her round, yet so breakable body filled them up perfectly. Despite the cloudy memories that I can't seem to grasp at this very moment, I remember feeling an explosion of happiness run through me. Time moved on, from six days to six weeks to six months. Now, six years. Time that seemed to take forever as it went on but now too fast as I look back. Full of memories both flooded with cold wars and unforgettable loving moments. Times when she annoys me and doesn't leave me alone, and times when she wakes me up by patting me lightly and with a big smile, "good morning jie jie* Lara."

She's my most favorite person in the entire world. When people ask, who do you love? I answer, Jordan. My baby cousin, but more like a soul sister. My other half, 10 years younger than me. The only one in the world I can rely on to make me happy when I feel sad without even asking to. She's seen me at my worst moments and each time I feel upset and she's not around, I long for her presence. It's quite scary looking at how thing's have changed from when she was six days old. After I helped make her milk at night, showered her at such a young age myself, changed her diapers, fed her, burped her, singing to her... she's now feeding herself, changing herself, singing with me, and whether I want to accept it or not, she's growing up.

A pretty face, still as cute as the day she was born, with jet black hair tumbling down to her shoulders, my baby girl. She turns 6 years old today. I can't believe she's growing up so fast. I know I love her though, and I wouldn't change anything about her.

Happy birthday Jordan, have the best day ever.
You'll forever be my baby girl.

*jie jie = big sister.

Chapter One.

Piercing sequins, like armor, lined from the torn, worn-out edges rested on her upper thigh, up until the lightly protruded, silky cloth, lying on her chest. With one slender leg gently crossed on another, she sinks her back into the dark, mischievous chocolate chair, which contrasts between her sweet, milk chocolate skin tone. The sound of striking drum beats and high-pitched voices thrum in the background. The blaring tone soothes her and she closes her heavy eyelids.

Warm, unnotched fingertips tickle her as they run up and down her cold, frozen skin. Each touch followed by a soft, delicate kiss on her heated neck. She slowly turns to the direction of the heat. A hand, bear-sized compared to hers, hugs her wrist as it pulls her towards the silky, satin bed. She hears a soft laugh, something she is well acquainted with. Immediately she knows who it is as he carefully undresses her, leaving her defenseless.

His sweet, soft lips press together, leaning against hers. They part lips for prompt moments, letting out whispers in the air, completely breathless. On her unstable, shaking bones, he places his smooth, pebble hands. Around her cold, bare waist, he wraps his strong, warm legs tight enough to hold her up. She grips his tender face with her right hand as her left hand traces up and down his toned chest.

As if time was in their hands, he kisses her from head to toe making every kiss count, leaving her breathless. Then he stops. He pulls her up with his legs until his face is close enough for her to count every freckle that dots his nose. With her entire body under his control, he opens his freshened eyelids forcing her to look straight into his eyes that look like pearls reflected in the deep blue ocean.

“I love you.”

He silently mouths the three words as a shade of pink floods his face. Her lips quarrel the urge to chuckle and he nudges her lightly with his powdered nose. His dark chocolate waves rub against her cheek like silk and he turns to kiss her again. As their lips depart, she whispers, “I love you too.”

Lightly throwing her arms around, she places her palms on his smooth neck, slowly interlocking her trembling fingers, caressing each freckle it lands on. Little bumps rise onto the creaseless surface and hit against her numb fingertips. His velvet hands startle her as it warms her delicate, heatless skin just below her waist. He pushes her frail body down, covering her with warmth from his tender body and the smothering blanket.

He holds her with one hand, as sturdy as an oak, as he turns to his side. He perches his moist lips on her chest as she gently strokes his prominent bone structure with her silhouette fingers. His irresistible lips travel upwards and he sinks them into hers. She tastes the pleasing flavor of sweet peaches as they passionately osculate. Exciting thrills arouse in her and travel through her body. With every touch, an exhilarating shiver stimulates her.

He gently rolls over and lies her underneath him. Slow deep breaths cloud over her cold, raw skin. His burly chest pressed onto hers, she feels his racing heartbeat. The pulse beats faster and faster, and so do they. The pace increases, she feels a rush she’s never felt before. It’s like a race against time. His sweaty grip tightens on her thighs as he draws her in closer. Everything is a haze as a feeling of ecstasy overwhelms her.

"Our time is now."

I miss the days....

The days when the first kiss was the most important kiss in the world.
Now first kisses are evidence “we’ve done shit.”
The days when kisses were special and each kiss was worth something.
Now kisses are greetings, the hello’s and good bye’s.
The days when each moment spent together mattered.
Now moments are casual and unimportant.
The days when a guy wouldn’t touch a girl without her permission.
Now girls either feel insecure or sell their bodies out to the world.
The days when no one lead anyone on.
Now games are played and people get hurt.
There's so much more I could list but I really do miss these days.