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BANDAGES, Ballad Of Kira [Renting Your Dignity]

PART II
Renting Your Dignity

More girls came and went, but none interested him. I finally got tired of seeing him sitting alone while Jackie ran around crazily, trying to find a girl. I walked into the Moan Room and scoffed lightly.

 

“Wow, you must be a tough customer.”

 

He didn’t say anything. He just tipped his head back and drank the last of his Scotch and soda. I sat down in the seat next to him, and yawned.

 

“So why are you here?” I inquired innocently. He shot me a somewhat cold stare that went straight through me. I shuddered. He breathed in deeply, and leaned back into his chair, setting the empty glass on the  table next to him.

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t be?” His voice was as icy as his eyes were. In a way it was eerie, but in another it was soothing. Like how the dark can be scary, but also comforting.

“No, no…”

“Then why’d you ask?”

“Just curious. Sometimes people come because they’re bored, or they want to have some fun, or they’re lonely.” His cold stare hardened and he frowned. I guess I hit a sore spot.

“I’m not bored, or lonely.”

            “Ah.” I grew silent. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. It was just silence.

            “Why are you in here? With me? Shouldn’t you be running around in your short shorts taking orders at the gay bars?”

            I blushed furiously. Yeah, I was wearing short shorts and sneakers. And nothing else. Jackie said it appealed to the customers to see skin. The man must have noticed my blush, because he gave a snort.

            “I just meant,” he began, “that I didn’t understand why you were wasting your time bothering me.”

            “Because you looked kinda lonely.”

            He grew silent. He seemed a little itchy, like he wanted a cigarette or something.

            “Are you gay?” I guess my casual question shocked him, because he stared at me and his glasses slid down to the middle of his nose.

            “E… excuse me?” I bet he thought I was hitting on him.

            “Well, you just don’t seem to like women very much.”

            “I like women plenty.”

            “So why can’t any of them here get you going?” He crossed his arms, looking a little uncomfortable. I thought it was charming.

            “Maybe they’re ugly,” he retorted.

            “They’re the prettiest girls I’ve ever met.”

            “Maybe I’m just not in the mood.”

            “Twenty girls in a row, sitting on your lap, doing things to you that is every man’s fantasy, can’t get you in the ‘mood’?” He scoffed at my remark.

            “Who’re you to talk, kid? A man’s fantasy? That’s coming from a guy in shorts the size of my hand. How old are you anyways?”

            “Eighteen.”

            “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

            “No, honest. I’m eighteen.”

            “You look like your twelve.”

            My face burned in embarrassment. So what? Can’t a guy look younger than his age without it sounding like a curse? Maybe I liked looking like a kid. This guy really knew how to hit a sore spot.

            “Yeah, well.” I crossed my arms, feeling a little more insecure about myself now. Well, c’mon. If some guy kept pointing out you were clad in tiny little shorts, you’d feel like covering up, too.

            There was a long silence. I didn’t want to get up, because that meant Jackie would find me and give me more things to do. The man beside me breathed out as if he was exhaling a cloud of cigarette smoke.

            “Why do you work here?” I was surprised by this. He didn’t seem like the type of guy who was a very active conversationalist.

            “Uhm…” what was I supposed to do? Tell him my life story? “He’s my uncle, and I needed a job and a place to live pretty badly. So he said I could live with him if I worked here.”

            His face remained emotionless. I couldn’t tell if he was listening intently or didn’t care.

            “That’s the reason?”

            “I guess so.”

            “What about your parents? Why can’t you live with them?”

            I grew silent. I looked down at the sneakers on my feet, and rubbed them together.

            “Because they’re not the type of parents who want you around.”

            He nodded shortly, as if he could relate. I started to feel a little more at ease.

            “Why are you here?” I asked the question again. I was curious; if he was so ‘not in the mood’, then what’s with coming to a strip bar and asking for a lap dance anyways?

            He stiffened up. “Because I wanted to. That’s why.”

            “Wanted to? Why did you want to? You don’t look horny to me.” I would have laughed if he didn’t give me a cold little side glance. He exhaled sharply.

            “Because someone didn’t want me to.”

            “Girlfriend?”

            “Father.”

            It all made sense. I don’t mean to me the judgmental type, but this guy didn’t really seem like he got along just dandy with his family, especially someone like a father. I gave a small frown, and remembered I actually worked there. I got up and picked up his empty glass.

            “Want another?”

            “You don’t have to, I’ll just go get one lat—”

 

Before he could say another word, I was out the door with the glass. I felt a little happier than usual, which Honey must have noticed.

 

            “One Scotch’n’soda, please!” I smiled brightly at Honey. She took my glass, and took a good look at my face.

            “Why so giddy, sweetheart?” I gave a little shrug, and she grinned.

            “Nuh-thing.”

            “You’re gay, aren’t you?”

            I was surprised. “What?!”

            “All the girls know. Why do you think we let you in the dressing room? You never show interest in any of us when we’re naked on the platforms. You just hold us afterwards and kiss our heads when we’re feeling down. And you’ve got that look in your eye.”

            I blushed. Maybe she was right, but I’d never admit it. “What look?”

            “Like you’ve just saw the most handsome man you’ve ever met. That, and this is his drink, am I right?” She smiled and handed me a full glass. I sheepishly smiled and looked down into it, holding it carefully between my fingers. Sometimes Honey really surprised me with her intelligence. I wish she’d get out of there and make use of her mind, but she doesn’t believe me when I say that. She’ll just laugh and say “Maybe in my next life thing’s’ll be better.” I hate it when she says that.

 

I took her hand playfully and kissed her knuckle, and left her giggling to meet up again with the man. When I got there, though, Jackie was walking out. I was a little disappointed, and peeked through the door. There was a girl already on his lap, but I nearly laughed out loud. He looked bored as hell, as if he was going to fall asleep within seconds. I bet he was craving the Scotch and soda I had in my hands.

 

I sat at the bar for a few minutes, watching the droplets of water gather on the outside of the glass, then slide down to the napkin it sat on. I swear to God, it was only a few minutes, when the girl came back out, red faced. She ran to the dressing room, hand over her mouth.

 

I sighed, picked up the young man’s drink, and walked into the room. He again had his legs crossed dignified at the knee, one elbow rested on the arm of chair, and his other free hand rested on his knee. He looked a little frusterated.

 

“Here’s your drink,” I said walking in. I handed it to him and sat back down, tired all of a sudden. “Did you have to send her out running?”

            He looked a little insulted. “I tried to be kind about it, but how are you supposed to tell a girl she’s just not turning you on? Especially when that’s their job…”

 

It’s true that the girls were sensitive, some more than others. Some of them probably laughed and told the man that it was fine, and other might have run out sobbing.

 

            I suddenly wanted a name to this mysterious man, so I asked him.

            “….”

            “If you don’t want to tell me, it’s alright. I was just curious.”

            “Tenou Mizuno.” He looked at me, a little less cold than I was used to his eyes being.

            “Why?”

            “No reason, really. No reason.” Of course there was a reason. I wanted to know the name of this gorgeous man who seemed to be emotionless but radiated this atmosphere of pain. But I’m sure if I told him that, he would have never asked for my name, too.

            “Kira Ito,” I answered back. For some odd reason, it was a relief to exchange names. We didn’t seem so much like strangers then.

 

We started talking. Nothing in particular.. just random things. He was easy to talk to and was a good listener, but it was hard to get him really into a conversation. He was polite and quiet, and once in a while he would take a small drink from his glass. I felt terrible, like I made a huge mistake, when I did a very small thing. I pulled a stray lock of hair out of his face. It was really bugging me, but I should have let it go, because he gave me a shocked look. Then he did the most peculiar, unexpected thing: he chuckled. He didn’t say a word, though I was completely embarrassed.

 

I didn’t have long to be embarrassed, because Jackie came in with a girl. Tenou’s calm expression dissolved into a frown, looking over at the girl.

 

            “I’m not so sure I want to try any more girls,” Tenou said. Jackie looked disappointed, and I kinda felt for sorry for him. He had been running around for the past couple of hours, frantic for a sexy enough girl. Jackie looked at me, and his disappointed look faded into a convincing smile.

            “Do you want to try my boy Kira, here?” He walked over and patted my shoulder like he was marrying me off or anything. I shrugged his hand off my shoulder and leaned back. I’m not one to do extremely touchy.. especially when I was basically naked. Tenou glared at him after I did that.

            “How much is he?” The hell?!

            “400 if you take him home, 200 right here.” Take him home?! Who’s taking who home?! No, no, no. Someone had something mixed up. I’m not a stripper, or a whore. I’m just a guy trying to get out on my fucking own. I looked down at the sneakers again. It wasn’t fair, the way Jackie threw around his weight like that, selling or renting me off.

 

            “I’ll take him.” My eyes widened. “I’ll take him home.” He reached into his pocket.

 

Tenou stood up and shoved an unbelievable amount of money into Jackie’s breast pocket. It was well over 400 dollars. Oh dear god, I hoped that didn’t mean what it looked like.

 

I got my bag and scuffled behind Tenou. Totally unfair. What was he going to do to me? He was, after all, a lot bigger. Maybe if I started running in the parking lot, he would be too caught off guard to catch up? No, I figured that wasn’t a good solution, either. I was so busy thinking up escape plans that I almost ran into Tenou’s back when he stopped at the bar. He waved down Honey.

 

            “Yes? What can I do for you, sweetie?” She shot me a worried glance. I avoided her eyes.

            But Tenou only leaned forward and slid her another wad of money.

            “Your friend is safe with me. Give this to all the girls who tried.”

 

I was shocked. I suddenly stopped hatching escape routes, and started looking forward to seeing where this man lived. Before we went outside, he stopped me.

 

            “Put this on.” He held out his coat. It was pretty large and warm looking, but I couldn’t possibly take it.

            “No, no. I’m fine.”

            “I insist,” he said smoothly. “Please take it, Mr. Ito.”

            I couldn’t resist. I slipped into the coat. It was enormous on me, and I think I saw a slight smile on Tenou’s face.

 

He had a very nice car, very sleek. And black. Boy, it was black all over. I felt odd, like I wasn’t even supposed to sit in it. Cars like that are in car shows, where they smack your hand if you touch one of the tires. And here I was sitting in it.

 

            “Do you want me to take you home?”

            “…It doesn’t matter.”

            There was a long silence.

            “Do you want even want to go home?”

            “No.” I was surprised how easy that came out. I felt a little embarrassed after saying it.

            “B-but,” I started, “I know I’m going to be a bother, so you can just drop me off at a hotel or something.” He shook his head.

            “There’s no sense in that. I’m staying at a hotel anyways.”

           

I nodded, and looked out the tinted window. I accidentally got too close to the window, because a spot fogged up. I gasped, horrified, and covered my mouth. I had such an urge to fight, though. Whenever I see fog, I want to write in it with my finger or draw pictures. I think I heard Tenou laugh.

 

The hotel was incredible. It was huge, and glamorous, with gold and silver tinted things everywhere. Even the fancy fountain pen at the front desk was plated with gold.

 

            “Mizuno,” Tenou said coolly to the woman at the desk. She instantly recognized the name and smiled, handing him the suite key. What a fake smile. She was old and harsh looking. She glared at us until he muttered that magical word. I really hate people like that.

 

The suite was amazing. It was bigger than my parents house or even Jackie’s. I set my bag down next to the desk and opened two enormous windows, and stared out at the beautiful city. I was in awe.

 

            “Ya ever see the movie Pretty Woman, Tenou pal?”

            “No.” He took his jacket off and threw it on the king sized bed. He pulled his tie off over his head. “I don’t watch very many movies, they’re usually a waste of time.”

            “Nevermind.” I put my hands in the pockets of the coat and stares out into the city. So many things happening, all right in front of my eyes. It was amazing, all those lights. I’d never seen New York from such a superior angle. I’d always been looking up.

 

I felt a little guilty for being there. A couple young men started bringing up Tenou’s luggage from his car. He parked it right out front and everything. I had no idea he was this loaded.

 

I started watching TV. They had thousands of channels! I was so excited about this. At home, we only have 12 or 13. I never had time to watch TV at Jackie’s house, I was usually working several jobs. If you want to know, other than working at the bar at night, I worked at crappy odd jobs like this one Italian restaurant. It’s dirtier than hell; I wouldn’t eat there myself. I once saw a chef with a roach pieces in someone’s pasta, and he didn’t even bother to pick it out. I was terrified of that place.

 

I laid down on my stomach on the bed, watching some special on lobsters on the Discovery channel, while Tenou dealt with the boys carrying his suitcases. I noticed he tipped them quite highly, and smirked. He was pretty lousy holding onto his money. But I guess when you have tons and no one to give it to, you don’t hold yourself back.

He walked in right when the lobsters were mating. I tried to reach for the remote, but I was too late. He looked at the TV, stared, and looked back at me. I think his glasses slid down his nose again, because he pushed them up with his middle finger. I grinned innocently.

03:24 p.m. on Friday, March 14, 2003

BANDAGES, Ballad Of Kira [Swallowing the Rain]

PART I
Swallowing the Rain

Sometimes it seems like the world’s moving under your feet. Sometimes it feels like gravity is pushing you down. Sometimes it seems like you’re being pulled into the sky by your heart.

I sat there, holding her in my arms. She was crying, and so was I. I didn’t have food, or clean blankets for her, or a place to stay.. so I covered her with my body. I pressed her small little shivering body against my chest and prayed to God she’d be okay. Did I believe in God? I would believe in anything, as long as they promised to save her. Save my little sister. Save my only friend. Save the person that would grow up to love me and let me love them, unlike anyone else.

But no one did. Everyone turned away. My last hope for happiness died in my arms that night, cold and hungry. Her cries slowed and she became silent as she drifted off into a miserable sleep. A miserable sleep she’d never blink awake from.

I cried so hard. I cried in the rain, pants soaked as I kneeled on the ground, hugging her. She was still warm, just yesterday she smiled and laughed at me. My 2 year old sister died that night, and I became more alone than ever.

I was stupid. A fool. Because to run away with my sister was a stupid, foolish thing to do. I tried to get her away from it all, I tried so hard. I wanted to love them, I wanted to be a big happy family. I really did. It wasn’t my call to make, though, but I just couldn’t watch them raise her the same way they did to me. I remember once that I tried to help my mother up when she had fallen while drunk, and she slapped me across the face screaming and told my father I tried to take advantage of her. He locked me up for four days in the bathroom.

I would never allow anyone to slap her. She would never sleep in a bathtub every week like I did. She was going to sleep in a bed every single night, warm and comfortable, and smiling. I was going to give her everything I dreamt of having. I would make sure of it.

I’m not sure why I ran out that night. I had no where to go, I had no money. It was more of a last resort, a cry for someone to help us. She was being neglected. I skipped school for months just to be with her, feeding her, making sure she was okay. I would sleep next to her crib so I would wake up in the morning to her cries. I’d dream of how I would hold her all day, and how she would fall asleep in my arms. And I would watch her for hours, thinking of what type of person she’ll become.

She used to be sleeping in my arms, and now she’s dead in them. I couldn’t stop crying. I was hysterical.

It was the biggest mistake of my life. I was like a madman… I grabbed her from the crib with as many blankets as I could, and ran out. My nose was bleeding, from what, you can guess. I was crying, blood mixed with salty tears on my face. I held her close and ran, and ran, and ran as hard as I could. I was only sixteen… it was a very stupid thing to do. I wanted to take her to somebody, but there wasn’t anyone to turn to. I thought maybe we could find one of those shelter home things? No, I didn’t know where one of those were. I panicked. All I wanted was to get her as far away as I possibly could, and I found myself walking in the cold city streets. It started to rain… I cried out to people for help, but they just held their umbrellas tighter or pulled their hoods over their heads, and walked on by. Right on by. I kept making sure she wasn’t wet. I put part of my coat around her, covering her head with a light blanket. I shivered, but I was driven by the warmth against my chest.

I held her close now, sobbing. I bent over and cried out to God.

I don’t remember how I found myself on the white marble steps, or how I found myself climbing them, or how I entered. I don’t remember standing inside the dark church, the rain cascading down the windows. It all sounded so calm inside.

A woman found me and helped me. She took my sister from my arms, and checked her. Her heart wasn’t beating. I stared with bloodshot, tear-strained eyes at Jesus on the Cross hanging at the head of the church. I stared at his solemn face, and the blood coming out of his hands and forehead and feet. He looked off to the side. I wanted to see his eyes. Why did you do this to me? Why did you take my angel away? I swore I hated him. I swore I would never find anyone that loved me. I told God, just wait and see. I’ll be lonely forever.

I tried killing myself eighteen times since then. It was never planned. It was more of those moments of opportunity. Slitting my wrists lost its touch. It was rare I was serious whenever I did it. I was back with my parents. They found me, asleep at a pew. Apparently word got out a kid with a dead baby in his arms showed up at a church. My mother cried when she came to get me. Fake tears.. so fake. We hugged, but I knew my father was waiting at home. I knew he was thinking of a way to punish me. I knew it was going to be even worse than anything before, because that’s the type of person he is. After we were alone in my mother’s car, she stopped crying. I stared at the windshield wipers as they swayed back and forth, shoving water off the windshield. I couldn’t feel my arms. They were either numb from the cold, or I was getting my body ready for what was going to meet me at “home”.

He was a drunken bastard. His breath smelled terrible with alcohol. My mother told him to put the knife down, but he swung it around, missing her face by inches. He swiped at me, and I fell down, screaming. He swiped again and got my shoulder. It was a deep cut. I held it, sobbing. I think I passed out from the pain, but it didn’t matter. I wanted to die anyways.

I don’t remember if I woke up in a hospital or in my own bed. The cut was treated and a bandage was taped over it, with spots of blood seeping through. That’s how dazed I was. That’s how lost I was. My father dragged me out of bed by my hair often, telling me to stop being a pussy, but after a while I stopped caring. I stopped screaming. Pain wasn’t an issue anymore.

I don’t know how I made it through highschool. By some miracle, I passed my classes. I guess it was sympathy, because sometimes my teachers would show up with my homework. When I saw them, I smiled, hiding my cuts and bruises under long sleeved shirts and sweaters. It was nice to talk to someone who didn’t spit into your face, it really was. I appreciated every single second they talked to me, because it made me feel human again. I began to laugh, and smile, and right when I thought maybe things were getting better, someone would walk in and take over. My father would smile politely and tell the teachers I had work to do, and that if they were finished with me, that I should be going. I wanted to scream out for them, because maybe they would listen. But he closed the door quickly before I could even say goodbye. My hope was quickly erased.

So I started going back to school, and working harder. It became a sort of outlet for me. I really loved to read, too. I would spend all my free time at the library. I think it was because I never wanted to go home. I stayed for hours, and once I even slept in the library. I come in the mornings anyways, and I knew Mrs. Baker the librarian quite well, so she didn’t really mind. I didn’t want to be a bother, so I never did that again.

An uncle with some sympathy offered to let me live with him if I worked at his strip joint. I didn’t object. I found this as a golden opportunity to leave that God forsaken house. Even so, I couldn’t help but feel a little sad when I left… all those memories. Some good, most bad. But it didn’t matter… I was moving to New York, and that was far enough away for me.

I packed the little things I had and left. And when I said little, I mean it… It only took me one suitcase and a backpack. Aint that crazy?

I moved in with Uncle Jackie. He was pretty messed up.. he did drugs sometimes, and he drank, and he smoked a lot and had a terrible cough. But he never once hit me. This was such a big change, and slowly I began to come out of my shell. I moved the summer after Junior year and went to school in NY for my Senior. It was really hard, I didn’t know anyone. They were all really close. I mean, they all grew up together. But I made friends, and I graduated near the top of my class, and that’s all that mattered to me anyways.

My job at the strip joint was a little twisted as well.. I did all the physical work and I fixed things like the bathrooms when a toilet broke down, but I had to basically do everything Uncle Jackie wanted. Sometimes we’d get some of the big wig guys in there taking a break on their business trips. And sometimes those old pedophiles wanted a boy to dance for them. I didn’t want to, but it was either that or going home back to my tender loving family. I hated how my Uncle always gave me ultimatums and blackmails.

I never realized, though, how sweet stripper girls can be. You’d never think you’d meet some of the best people in a place like that… well, I certainly didn’t. I figured they’d be whorish and slutty, but they were actually very affectionate and caring. They were the only people that understood the type of life I had, because some of them had family problems themselves. I got close with this one girl, who everyone called Honey, but for some reason, it was never more than affectionate hugs and holding. She was very sweet, and she always understood exactly what I tried to say. After the place closed, I would lie down with my head in her lap, and she run her fingers through my hair. I guess you could call it a guys dream, but I was never too much a sexual guy anyways.

I slowly began building up a life for myself. My dream is to be a kindergarten teacher. Maybe it sounds silly, especially for a guy my age, but I love children. Everything about them, from the way you can get them excited over cookies, to how you can watch them for hours, just wondering what they were going to be. I like them when they’re really young, none of that preteen angst stuff. Not when they started to talk back and act snotty.

One of my favorite experiences was babysitting for a friend of the family. She had the sweetest kids, and the most wonderful house. I never figured why such good, wealthy people were friends with MY parents, but I never was the one to bite the hand that fed me. We played, and we talked, and we colored, and we watched TV. It was absolutely wonderful. I would question little Timothy what he was drawing, and he would make up these elaborate stories. It made me laugh, it really did. I almost begged his mother to let me baby sit more, and so she did. I didn’t care whether or not I got paid. Sometimes I left in a hurry because I wanted her to forget to pay me, but she always paid me double next time. That clever girl.

It’s funny how everything works out. It’s funny how me, someone who started out working at a strip bar, would work my hardest to become a kindergarten teacher. I had no idea how hard it would be. I had no idea that every little thing I did that night would change my life forever.

I was carrying boxes and mail all over the place, as the night was beginning to end. It was about 3 in the morning, and there was a commotion between the girls in the dressing room.

“Kira!” I turned around quickly. Jackie expected me to do that when he called, so it became a habit. But it was only one of Honey’s friends standing in the doorway. I came over, a box of papers under arm.
“Yes?” I walked into the dressing room, and the girls surrounded a single girl, who sad in front of a lit mirror, crying. Her mascara was running terribly.
“What happened?”
“Some guy’s in the lap dance room.. nobuddy can get even the slightest whimper out of him. He really got to old Jade over there,” she nodded to the sobbing girl.
“Oh. Well, what about the other girls?”
She shrugged. “Nearly all of us have tried. Jackie’s sending all his best. This guy looked really ritzy, like he’s real loaded. I think Jackie smells money.”

I laughed. If Jackie had one talent, it would to be to sniff out a big payer.

She gave me a look. “You’d think the bastard would be some ugly old man, but let me tell you, this one is gorgeous. He has these deep ocean-blue eyes, and beautiful lips. Oh, the lips killed me!”

I pondered about this fellow. For some reason he interested me. I kissed Jade on the forehead and she threw her arms around my neck, sobbing. But after a few minutes of rubbing her back, she calmed herself down. I ruffled her hair and walked out, just the slightest bit curious… I mean, c’mon, I had to at least have a look.

I conveniently walked past the open door to the lap dance room, which we hall the Moan Room, and caught a glimpse of this infamous heartbreaker. He was more gorgeous than I would have ever imagined. He had broad shoulders, wispy raven-black hair that fell into his eyes. His eyes were cold and blue, but mostly hidden behind silver rimmed glasses. He had a white dress shirt oxford on, and a loosened tie around his neck. The jacket to his suit was slung over the back of his chair, and he sat relaxed, legs crossed. He sipped at a glass of Scotch and soda. I got a little shiver when he noticed me looking at him. I blushed furiously, and I don’t know why, and continued working.


_________FIN


----Kira
03:31 p.m. on Thursday, March 13, 2003

The Music Box Behind the Glass Doors

On my dresser sits a wooden jewelry case. It used to be my grandmother’s. It’s probably over a foot tall and has two doors that swing open. The rim of the doors are wooden, which supports an arched plate of glass that has a flower-ish design etched into it. When you open it up, the left side has four drawers that pull out, and the right has a hooked spinning wheel attached to the top with a mirror behind it. I used to go into my grandmother’s closet when I was bored and look through her old books and encyclopedias. She had encyclopedias over everything; there was one about sea creatures, and the human body, and birds and bugs and mammals. I loved reading the mammal one, mainly because they had a huge section on dogs; I would turn the closet light on and close the door, and sit on some boxes and look at the pictures of all the dogs. I would read about them and pick which one I wanted when I grew up. I told myself “When I’m grown up, and I can get a dog, I’m going to be good ‘n’ ready to get one”. But one day I was in the closet, and I noticed something I’d never seen before. Just below the clothes that hung on the pole I saw something old and wooden. I pulled it out and found it was a huge jewelry box, and I noticed an odd-looking metal key sticking out the back, but I didn’t think much of it.

I begged my grandmother for that box. Oh how I begged and begged. I told her I’d do the dishes and that I didn’t even want anything for Christmas or my Birthday or anything. So of course she let me have it.. I was so excited. I was looking through it all one day, and when I pulled out the drawer that had cushions for rings, a sad little melody started to play. I was so confused at first, but when I drew out the drawer, I noticed a little music box behind it. Apparently, there was a crafty little device that stopped the music box from playing when the drawer pushed up against it, but when you pulled it out, it did. I realized that the metal key that stuck out the back was what you wound up to make the music play after it ended.

I hated it, though. I never liked to use the ring drawer, because the sad music would play. Whenever I forgot about it, and pulled the drawer out to put a ring inside or take one out, the music would begin, and I would quickly shut it up. It made me shiver, I didn’t understand it. Yet.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I lay on my bed, reading The Catcher In the Rye. I had gotten it while in my English class.. I accidentally went too far on my homework the night before, and so I had nothing to do during class. I was bored and asked to go to the library, and that’s where I picked it up. I’ve heard it was a very good book. It was only around 7 pm and I was already halfway through the book. I love Holden, he cracks me up. Everything bothers him one way or another, especially people, but he’s just too polite to do anything about it. He reminds me of someone really dear to me, the Tanner fellow.

I heard a playful knock on the door, and my mom called me for dinner. I wasn’t hungry too much, so I lazed around and finished a couple more pages before I went downstairs. Everyone had already gotten their food, so all the pans and plates were set next to my spot on the table.

I sat down and began to put the mashed potatoes on my plate.

“Pass me the rolls, please,” my stepfather grumbled. I put the spoon to the mashed potatoes down and picked the plate up, holding it up for him. He reached for the plate and stopped short, staring at me.

“Pass the rolls, please.” He frowned behind his beard and raised his eyebrows disapprovingly. I began to panic. What did I do wrong? Why was he frowning? I guess I wasn’t listening… did he say to hand him something else? My head buzzed with a thousand panicked thoughts. I looked from my mother to my stepfather to my mother again. The voice inside my head pounded, and I set the plate down on the table where I picked it up.

You’re such a failure, Ashley. Why is it so hard to do something right? You can’t even pass a plate of rolls without screwing up. My eyes lightly watered, I turned my face down.

“Pass the rolls, Ashley,” my mother said to me casually.
“I.. I tried..” I gave up and set the plate on Jim’s side of the table, sliding it towards him. He raised his eyebrows and shook his head lightly, as if to say “What an idiot.” I would have cried then and there if it wouldn’t have made me feel so pathetic.

After my stepfather and stepbrother left to smoke in the garage, I turned to my mother.

“What did I do wrong?”
“Hmm? What do you mean?”
“Just earlier. The rolls.”
“He just wanted you to hand him the rolls.”
“I.. did.”
“I must not have noticed.”
“I held the plate there, and he just stared at me. He didn’t take it until I set it on the table for him.” I could hear my voice cracking weakly. I hated talking about Jim behind his back, it scared me. I whispered because I was afraid that he might not really be in the garage, I just never noticed.. He’s the only person that truly frightens me. His cold eyes are the only eyes that can stop me in my tracks, his cold eyes are the only eyes that I just can’t look into.

My mother stared at me for a minute. She told me not take it to heart. I’ve been “not taking it to heart” for years. It’s hard to ignore someone and listen to every word they say. That’s why he hates me so much, and that’s why I always screw up around him. I’m expected to fulfill every order of his, but I’m also taught to ignore his snappy remarks or his dirty looks. He gets upset at any sense of emotion I have; when I laugh at the computer, he tells me to get offline. When I sing along to a song, he tells me to turn it down. When I’m sitting next to my mother on the couch, holding her hand or purring in her lap while she pets my hair, he tells me I’m sitting in his spot. I’ve stopped having emotion around him, and it scares me. He makes me panic, he makes me check what I’m doing. When he gets home I run through the house once, making sure no toilets are running, or music blaring, or plates or cans of pop left out, or crumbs on the counters, or lights too bright or left on in my room. I’m dead scared of his disapproval, depressingly so. I don’t know why I try so hard. Maybe it’s because I’m desperate for a father.

My mother got up from the table with her plate and a pan, but she stopped.

“Is he that way when I’m not here?”

I froze. What was I supposed to say? I knew that if I said anything, they would end up in a terrible fight. I hate it. I hate it when I hear my mother suggest that she and my stepfather go out to the garage to “talk”. And when they do, I hear the “talking” loud and clear, that murmur from the other side of the wall that gets louder by the minute. And after you hear them screaming, there’s a complete silence, followed by a slamming door. I hate it.

I shrugged. “I dunno.” It was better than anything I actually wanted to say.

“Is he worse?”

This I could never possibly admit to. Yes, he was. He made me feel even more worthless than usual when my mother’s away, especially during those months she spent with her father before he died. It was total hell. I would go to my room after dinner and just cry, cuddled up in my blankets. Those blankets were my only comfort. Music and TV were my saviors. I never realized how lonely this house, my home, can be. I know every crevice of this structure, top to bottom, but it felt so empty without my mother. A house of strangers. It’s like living in a city you know no one in. You eat alone, sleep alone, and live alone.

I shrugged without a word. She frowned, set the things in her hands down, and came over to me.

“Only three more years,” she said. I leaned up to kiss her cheek, and she scratched at my neck lightly. I pulled my wrists up to my chest like a puppy and kicked my leg, panting. She laughed and patted my cheek. It was nice to make her laugh. As long as I can still make her laugh, I’m okay. I can stand Jim for another 3 years, I’m sure. It’s not me that has to live with him the rest of my life. Once I move out, it’ll all be better.

It’ll all get better. Yeah, I’m sure it will.

I feel terrible about it, though. I want to move out so badly, but I love my mother dearly. She’s my best friend, like I’ve stated before. We’re like sisters. I love being with her because she’s funny and fun to talk to and she has an amazing sense of humor. I can never stay mad at her, because she’ll tickle me or crack a ridiculously lame joke that just cracks me up. I want to savor the days I’m still with her so I can leave with a heavy heart, like all normal kids do when they leave their families, but I’m itching to leave. I never want to see Jim again, honestly.

My mother went into the garage and I washed off my plate. I went up the stairs to my room and looked around. I still have homework to do.. but… meh. I’ll do it later.

I took a shower. I have a friend, Amy, who brushes her teeth all the time because it makes her feel better. After she cries she brushes her teeth, after she has a conflict with someone, she brushes her teeth. She brushes her teeth all the time, basically, because it makes her feel comfortable and clean. Yeah, she’s a surprisingly normal girl with one weird quirk.

I really don’t like showers, but when I’m in a bad mood, all I want to do is take a long shower. So I did. I leaned into the wall with the water pounding against my back. I leaned my forehead onto it, and just cried. It’s funny because you can’t tell what’s tears and what’s just water. I slid down the wall and cried heavier in the corner of the tub, looking pretty pathetic.

I’m not sure what really happened, or if I was still crying, or if I even washed my hair. I forgot if I used shampoo, so I just washed my hair again. The smell of my conditioner was comforting and settled me down. I pressed the knob in with my knee. Wiping at my eyes, I threw a towel over my head.

Yeah. It’ll get better, you just wait and see.

I walked into my room and got dressed into my PJs. While in front of the mirror, I noticed a dusty and lonely looking jewelry box. I opened the doors and looked through everything, smiling at all the necklaces I never used but was too sentimental to throw them away.

I opened the ring drawer, and a low music began to play. The memories began to flood back to me. I pulled it out from it’s dusty corner and gave the key in the back 6 or 7 good winds. I got on my knees and rested my head on the counter of the dresser.

At first the music was energetic and playful, the notes going up and down and harmonizing with each other. I smiled, wondering how such a pretty tune could scare me as a child. It sounded like a song someone dances to with their lover, under the stars, with a warm breeze of summer blowing at their hair. He pulls her up to him by her waist and nuzzles her cheek, telling her how beautiful she is in the moonlight.

But the slower it got, the more nostalgic it got. It stopped being romantic, and started sounding like the trials and travails of a life. It gradually slowed, so much so that it was hard to detect. By the time you realized it was slowing down, it was too late. You were too lost in the notes to hear it begin to fall apart. It lost it’s energy somewhere between beginning and end; each repeat of the melody sounded like it was recalling something before, like it was remembering the days it fluctuated with a beautiful tune.

It slowed, whispering its last melancholy memories, and died.

I realized why it frightened me so much as a child. It was always playing slowly, telling me of the song it used to play so beautifully. It would croak a whisper when I opened the drawer, and be once again neglected when I shut it back up in haste.

The song still haunts me. It swims in my head during school, on the bus, in my dreams. I go to sleep listening to my music box play. The sad song I used to fear is now my comfort and my friend that I console to. I wiped the dust off the top and set it on my nightstand. It’s a bit looming, tall and dark, but I like it. I wish I could pull the music box out and put somewhere safe, and play it whenever I wanted.

My mother thinks she knows the name of the song, but as soon as I asked she forgot.

I really want to know, it’s such a pretty song.

My mother just came up to my room and told me my 2 year old niece, Cecily, is in the hospital. She’s been throwing up or something and my mother’s going to leave to go see her right now… I told her to give Tania a comforting kiss for me.

I really think I love Mikey. I think of him and smile. I think of him and laugh at the silly things he says. I think of him and get engrossed into an inevitable daze. He’s my little secret, the person I actually talk to the least but always seem to find when I need him. When I want to cry, he’s always there. I would give all I have for 5 minutes with him. Holding him, smelling his hair, holding his hand, holding his face, leaning against him. I want to show him how much I really care for him, but it’s impossible. I want to know how much he loves me, but it’s impossible.

But when you think you’re in love, there’s always another. A person, a complication, a problem, a finding. You torture yourself over it.

I think I’m going to go read some more of my book instead of doing my homework. I’m so boring.


---Kira
03:35 p.m. on Wednesday, March 12, 2003

quite true


What Inuyasha Villain Are You?



Who's Your Anime Boyfriend?

These things get stuff right sometimes.
03:54 p.m. on Tuesday, March 11, 2003

bound for the floor

i hate people. most people. i hate how at the pinnacle [look, mrs fucking churchill, i used a vocab word] of my day, one person can just pull the chair out from under me. i hate that i allow myself to seethe. i'm just like kira. i'm just like her. i kill them inside my head...over and over, until they don't look human anymore. and then i grieve over them.

i walked onto the bus, after a very good day. my self esteem was at it's height, and good things were on my mind. i felt free, i felt like i left the unhappiness in me behind.

"I saw your picture at the fair. It really sucked.. all you draw is that japanese shit!"

my heart sank to my stomach. what? my.. japanese shit? is that all it is? i put 4 days of my heart and soul into that picture, and that's truly the only reaction i've received. i turned away, i couldn't look at them. i felt like a failure. i felt the same way that i feel when my stepfather looks at me with hating eyes. i felt small, and stupid, and completely worthless. i loved that picture enough to put it in the school culture fair, mainly because it was personal to me. i sketched for days, and carefully inked it. i've never spent so much time on something before. it WAS me. it was a visualization of me, in the form of other characters i create. when they rejected the picture, they were telling me i was worthless.

i absolutely hate, despise, and loathe art. i hate it so much because it's all i'm good at. it's my one and only talent. i can't play a piano, or a violin, or write beautiful stories and poems. i'm not athletic or especially good with children or cooking or numbers. art is my identity. it's what people remember about me. the only thing they remember. i hate art because without it, i would be completely and utterly worthless.

i turned away, completely ashamed. i wasn't angry. i felt pathetic. i felt like i let everyone down. anyone who ever complimented my art was a victim of my failure. i cried and cried, as silently as i could. i tipped my head down so the tears would slide off my face as soon as possible. i was too ashamed to wipe my face with my hands.. it would only give away the fact that i was crying like a stupid little brat.

everyone on the bus began to throw things, and eventually cookies. i stared out the window, eyes red. a cookie bounced off the seat infront of me and missed my head by inches. i didn't even blink.. i was so lost i didn't realize what had been thrown until the powered sugar floated down around me. i closed my eyes when it started to sting, and rested my head against the window. it vibrated and made my ear feel funny.

a boy in the seat right in front of me threw a pencil at the head of an older boy, Matt, who sat slouched in the very back seat.

he jumped up "ARE YOU TRYING TO START SOMETHING?" the bus went dead silent. i stared ahead. the younger boy shrugged, dumbfounded, and Matt charged up the isle. my leg was across my seat and my foot rested on the seat across mine. Matt, the boy who uttered the words about my art that tore me apart earlier, plowed through my leg. it lightly ached.

"You stupid fuck!" He swiped his fist down and hit the 8th grader in the head. I heard a strange sound, like a mix between a slap and a crunch. I saw the 8th grader disappear down from view, holding his head. I looked up and into Matt's face. Disgusting. He's just disgusting. He was even more pathetic than I was. His ego relies on the pain of others. If people hurt more than he does, he's better than them. I realized that he was even more worthless than I was without art. I caught his eye and he looked away, turning around and stomping back to his seat. People stared, mouths gaping.

Everyone looked at the boy. I felt terrible for him.. to have everyone's pity and being talked about. I heard whispers from people explaining to others what had happened. I reached over and tapped him on the shoulder.

"You okay?" I lightly brushed my hand against his head, careful not to touch a sore spot. He held his face, crying, and waved my hand off him. I pulled my hand back, and stared out the window as we resumed our route. I wondered if the bus driver would do anything. Matt's friends were silent for the longest time, but eventually started nervously laughing along with him.

I hate people. I hate people who cause pain, especially the ones who enjoy it.

I killed Matt over and over in my head. I stopped myself.. it was wrong. I grieved, and forgave him. Would He forgive me? I realized that causing pain in retaliation to pain is ridiculous, no matter what. I remember when my mother told me "if someone hits you, hit them back". When does it end? Do you keep lashing, hoping to draw blood? This cycle is always breeding... pain, anger. They lick each other's wounds until they destroy you.

I'm so tired of it all.


---Kira
11:33 a.m. on Friday, March 7, 2003

One Fuckin Long Survey

[ .001. ] first name: Ashley

[ .002. ] middle name: Nicole

[ .003. ] last name: Bailey

[ .004. ] nickname(s): Ash, Ashi

[ .005. ] gender: Female

[ .006. ] age: 14, nearly 15 years of terrorism

[ .007. ] birthday: May 3rd, 1988

[ .008. ] height: 5'6 or so

[ .009. ] hair color: light brown

[ .010. ] eye color: blue

[ .011. ] race: basically a caucasian native american <.<

[ .012. ] do you wear glasses or contacts: yep.

[ .013. ] do you have braces: nope.

[ .014. ] is your hair long or short: Short, but it's growing fast, so it's almost all the way down my neck

[ .015. ] where were you born: I have no idea. Kansas or Missouri, I presume.

[ .016. ] current location: Lee's Summit, Missouri. A god forsaken place.

[ .017. ] zodiac sign: that taurus bull thang

[ .018. ] how many languages do you know: One. Hopefully you can figure out which one that is. [unless yer Amy =)]

[ .019. ] nationality: Greek?

[ .020. ] bad habits: picking my nose :P Actually, my worst habit is being perfect. Yeah, it's annoying to a lot of people.

[ .021. ] piercings you have: nada

[ .022. ] piercings you want: More piercings in my ears, maybe my eyebrow :P Nyahahaha, my belly button too!

[ .023. ] tattoos you have: nada nada nada

[ .024. ] tattoos you want: Something rebellous and perhaps scary but artistic. Like Mickey Mouse or Bugs Bunny.

[ .025. ] today's date: march da sixf, two twowsand an' fwee.

[ .026. ] the time: seevan oh seevan pee em.

[ .027. ] ready for a bunch more questions: Well, considering in actuality that I really have nothing called a "life", I'm quite ready.

: Family :
[ .028. ] mother's name: Vickie

[ .029. ] father's name: Lambert

[ .030. ] step-parent's names: Jim [BLERG!!]

[ .031. ] brother(s)'s name(s): Austin

[ .032. ] sister(s)'s name(s): nada nada

[ .033. ] favorite aunt: Aunt Marcie and Aunt Carol [I could never choose. my family is good people.]

[ .034. ] favorite uncle: Unky Ronald! He's the best!! X3!! He saved my mother's life when they were wee children. She was skating on a frozen pond, but it wasn't strong enough and she fell through... he jumped in and saved her before she drowned!! Thanks to Unk, I happened :P

[ .035. ] favorite grandparent: I cannot choose. I love them all.

[ .036. ] worst relative: my INCREDIBLY creepy cousin mike!! He kept touching me and stroking my back! He even touched my butt. Ugh. He's not "right in the head", so I can't chew him out or anything...

[ .037. ] best relative: I can't choose this either.

[ .038. ] do you get along with your parents: I love my mother to death.. I talk to my dad everyone month or two, so it's not like we're around each other enough to not get along.

[ .039. ] Does anyone in your family understand you? Surprisingly, my mother understands me inside out. She's so open-minded and kind. :)

. : Pets : .
[ .040. ] do you have any pets: Doggie.

[ .041. ] what are their names: Jazz! She's insane!

[ .042. ] what kind of animals are they: We have no idea lol

. : School : .
[ .043. ] are you still in school: Yar

[ .044. ] did you drop out: Nu

[ .045. ] current gpa, or last gpa you got: I'm too stupid to figure out what my GPA is X.x

[ .046. ] favorite grade: 6th or 7th grade.

[ .047. ] least favorite grade: 4th and 5th grade.

[ .048. ] favorite teachers: Mrs. Sage[7grade], Ms. Twells [8grade], Mrs. Vanvaulkenburg [8grade]. They're all either language arts teachers or art teachers. Also... MR. KREY!! MAN THAT MR. KREY IS GREAT! YAY FOR ALGEBRA!

[ .049. ] least favorite teacher: Mrs. Bixby. ::shiver::

[ .050. ] favorite subject: Art and English<---{most of the time}

[ .051. ] least favorite subject: math. ughff.

[ .052. ] do/did you buy lunch or bring it: Buy.

[ .053. ] play any sports on the school's team: hell naw

[ .054. ] do/did you do any extracurricular activities: having "extracurricular activities" would go against my lazy code.

[ .055. ] are/were you popular: HAHAHAHAHAHAH!! Popular! Oh my god no. I was practically hated in Elem. school.

[ .056. ] favorite dance: 7th grade dance. :) I had so much fun with Jessica. Going out to eat afterwards was one of the best times I had all year.

[ .057. ] favorite memory: Dancing crazily with Jessica. She was so embarrassed and shy! I had to make a fool out of myself so she wouldn't feel dumb dancing. Also, when my mother popped up and started dancing with us :P I acted really embarrassed and told her to stop, but I love how dorky and funny my mom is.

[ .058. ] least favorite dance: actually, I only went to the 7th grade dance. o.o

[ .059. ] least favorite memory: la la laaa..

[ .060. ] most humiliating moment: I tripped on my heel while dancing. LOL. I'm such a loser.

. : Favorites : .
[ .061. ] number: 3

[ .062. ] clothing brand: I dun care. I prefer men's clothes o.O

[ .063. ] shoes: My old white and silver striped adidas shoes. I laced them up all cool like, so they never come undone. The front rubber thing is coming off, tho, so i can't splash in puddles anymore... T_T...

[ .065. ] tv show: Inuyasha

[ .066. ] sport: bowling :D

[ .067. ] vegetable: stuff in salads.

[ .068. ] fruit: grapes and peaches

[ .069. ] movie: Meet Joe Black *_*

[ .070. ] magazine: Newtype or Shounen Jump

[ .071. ] actor: Brad Pitt *_____* or Hugh Grant.

[ .072. ] actress: I dunno. o.O

[ .073. ] candy: Tootsie rolls. I've never gotten sick of them, so matter how many I ate.

[ .074. ] gum: bubblicious! they're big pieces and they taste goooodd

[ .075. ] scent: Tommy o.O he always smells good. That and "Candies" for men.. I melt when I smell that.

[ .076. ] candy bar: Butterfingers baby

[ .077. ] ice cream flavor: vanilla. I dun need anything added, either. just vanilla. mmmmm...

[ .078. ] color: black and white.

[ .079. ] season: spring. it rains a lot. oooo.

[ .080. ] holiday: Christmas, of course.

[ .081. ] band: I dunno o.O? Band? I'm terrible with clothes...

[ .082. ] singer: Gackt!

[ .083. ] group: currently Deftones.

[ .084. ] rapper: *coughs up something gnarly* ...ew. Huh? What?

[ .085. ] type of music: I don't limit myself. I dislike rap and techno, tho.

[ .087. ] place to be: At my desk, drawing.

[ .088. ] radio station: 97.3 the planet, 96.5 the buzz, oldies 95, and 98.9 the rock. And that 90.1 station that plays jazz and classical and raggae. o_O

[ .089. ] tv channel: Cartoon Network, baby.

[ .090. ] junk food: There is too much junk food I adore to tell you.

[ .091. ] overall food: Chinese. Mmmm...

[ .092. ] store: WalMart. Oh my god yes.

[ .093. ] shoe brand: Adidas! yayy~~ or Vans.

[ .094. ] fast food: Arbys.

[ .095. ] restaurant: Master Wok. Oh my god yes.

[ .096. ] shape: rhombus. it's so fun to say.

[ .097. ] time of day: night. I love the smell of night.

[ .098. ] country: I dunno. Singapore. I'm a lover, not a hater.

[ .099. ] state: Washington.

[ .100. ] boys name: Michael, David, Elijah [ .101. ] girls name: Samantha, Jacque [ .102. ] mall: that mall in Columbia,MO. I stayed in a hotel across the street for nearly a week.. oh my lord, I was in heaven. They had tons of anime and manga, and Barnes and Noble, and some yummmyyy places to eat. *_*

[ .103. ] video game: Final Fantasy games... RPGs, yadda yadda.

[ .104. ] shampoo: Sauve, baybay

[ .105. ] board game: Monopoly.

[ .106. ] computer game: erm o.O

[ .107. ] car: the one I will have when I can drive?

[ .108. ] music video: "All the Things She Said" XXDDDDDD

[ .109. ] swear word: fuck! there's something about that word.

[ .110. ] word: absofreakinglutely.

[ .111. ] month: may and june [ .112. ] cartoon character: Edd [ .113. ] scary movie: House on Haunted Hill

[ .114. ] team: team? Er, NASA? [ .115. ] possession: my pants.

. : What's the first thing that comes to mind when you hear : .
[ .116. ] eminem: anal

[ .117. ] dog: Jazz, dog of satan.

[ .118. ] hot: summer

[ .119. ] britney spears: slutwhore

[ .120. ] nsync: pathetic

[ .121. ] real world: your mom

[ .122. ] orange: juice

[ .123. ] choice: pro life?

[ .124. ] fuck: you

[ .125. ] bisexual: Aaron lol

[ .126. ] black: dance club international

[ .127. ] icq: I see what?

[ .128. ] insane clown posse: circus

[ .129. ] linkin park: swings and slides

[ .130. ] jack: be nimble

[ .131. ] rainbow: wigs

[ .132. ] cherry: gay men

[ .133. ] cucumber: gay men

[ .134. ] shark: Jaws

[.135.] crack: when a construction worker's pants are falling down. o_o

[.136. ] bat: mafia



I shall finish lata. Bai bai now.
06:47 p.m. on Thursday, March 6, 2003

Moonlight Sonata

I hold my stomach, hunched over at my grandmother's computer desk. My forehead's pressed against the keyboard. Listening.

A tear slides down my cheek, and splatters onto the "h" key. I feel sick, a type of sick that you get when you long for someone painfully. I close my eyes and see him, I see him smiling, I see him playing in the rain, I see him, but I don't. I want to, but I can't.

I'll play this song for you someday..

I shudder. I can see myself, locking my arms around him, so very happy. Laughing, smiling.. that feeling of completion. I can feel his warmth during the night, even if it's merely a hand on my back or an arm draped across me. I can see us swinging to the sound of rain on our old, creaky porch. I can see him whispering a little joke into my ear, and tightening his hug as I laugh. I can smell his hair.

Most of all, I can feel his kiss. I can feel my thoughts get fuzzy, my heart to scream, my mouth to wander. The weakness in me crawls out from its cage and takes hold; I'm his.

The notes of this song make me cry, because it's how I feel at this moment. The irony. The loneliness, the longing. For his kiss, his breathing, his everything. I long to not long anymore, but I know I'll lose a part of myself. I think I already have.

My heavy breathing. My eyes blink the tears out. I sigh.

I miss him. Moonlight Sonata, I miss you. Moonlight Sonata, you sing the music that drones inside of my heart. Moonlight Sonata, I can't help but love you.


07:47 p.m. on Wednesday, February 26, 2003

Androgynous

I’m in the most curious of moods. I feel that content emptiness. I feel at home, I feel free of everything. I feel loving, and caring, and gentle, and level headed. I feel love, and I look at everyone I know and feel comfort. I have no idea where any of this came from.

I feel like I cheated death. I feel like, somehow, I was supposed to die, but I slipped away. I’m living over what was planned. I’m elated. I think clearer than usual. I lost my sense of being disliked, hated, or annoying. I lost that wall that kept me from reaching out to people that interest me. It feels wonderful to meet new people. I love the feeling you get when someone returns your kindness.

I’m going to do a comic. It’s going to be controversial. Some people are going to hate me, or be disgusted. I’m going to put my heart into it, I’m going to draw at my highest level that I can muster. I’m going to draw scenery, and machines, and cars, even if I hate it. I’m going to make someone, somewhere, cry at the end of my story. You just wait.


He just stands there.. in his black tuxedo. His blonde hair flowing across his forehead. The blue eyes sadly sparkle at you, his lips parted so slightly. He stands so far away, but you feel intrigued. You forget the person you were talking to, and get lost in his eyes. That smell, that smell of a clean night. The breeze is warm, and it feels so good when it starts to toy with the hair brushing across your cheek. Your face tingles, and you can’t help but think.. he… is the one kissing it. His figure, loose, his tie pulled down. His collar unbuttoned, his hands in his pockets. He looks tenderly intense. And you’re loving it. You feel slightly unnerved, and vulnerable. Your stomach weakens and does flips when you realize that he started walking. Walking straight towards you.


I want that. I want it so bad.

I want to be seduced, and intrigued, and feel that intensity locking its eyes on me.

But what I want even more is for that person, with his silver eyes glimmering, his lips curled in a smile, to be Michael.


When he reaches me, he laughs, leans over, and whispers into my ear, “You’re looking lovely enough to kiss tonight, Mrs. Meyer.” He kisses my ear, my neck, then smells my hair and brushes his lips across my cheek as he leans back up. He grins, and carefully picks a stray tendril out of my eyes.


Is that too much to ask for.

It feels so good to just think about him.


---Kira
12:34 p.m. on Monday, February 17, 2003

jigga wut wut


Goddess of Wind, calm and cool and under control.
You don't like getting personal with too many
people.

What element would you rein over? (For Girls)
brought to you by Quizilla
05:14 p.m. on Saturday, February 15, 2003

Seven Nation Army

I feel like crap.

THE AGENDA [version 1]: Go bowling with Michael, Brandi, Amy, Becky, Tommy, and whoever else comes.

THE PROBLEM: bowling leagues. the lanes aren't open until 9 or so.

THE AGENDA [version 2]: Go out to eat at Master Wok! Talking and just hanging out included.

THE PROBLEM: Michael and Brandi can't make it.

THE AGENDA [version 3]: Er... little dinner with Becky, Amy, Tommy.

THE PROBLEM: Amy IMs, saying she was "going to the movies with Tommy". Can't get ahold of Becky.


Michael can't make it because he had a surprise guest. Brandi was grounded. Becky.. that's my fault. I was too lazy in calling her. Those, I didn't take offense to... it was just bad timing.

But I feel neglected. "We're going to the movies instead." Okay, sure... ... ...

Wouldn't you feel justtt a little let down? I'm not blaming. I'm not anything. But I was really looking forward to making a crappy day better. And feeling neglected doesn't help. I feel like Amy values Tommy much more than me, instead of the same. I guess that's what happens when boys come into the picture. Becky's said something of the same; Amy'll forget you exist when Tommy's there. I'm starting to dread before school, and lunch. It's always there. I always feel like the odd man out. But I said goodbye to my social life, anyways... I should think of this as my first step.

I'm losing interest in friends, and friends are losing interest in me. It's perfect.

I'm starting to feel pressured into sitting with them, or being around them in the morning. It tortures me. When he hugs her so gently, I wonder why it couldn't be like that. When he used to hug me, it was more like a death grip. That's why I pulled away. That's why I stiffened up. It's hard to be affectionate when you're being strangled.

I want to go hang out with other people, I want to go sit with other people, but I can't. That would just be a catalyst to end what thread of relationship we have left.

It doesn't seem like it, because I laugh and smile. But you're losing me. Day by day. You're losing a friendship that I hope you care about. And if that doesn't affect you, then maybe it's for the better. think more about what you do. I'm stubborn and hard-headed, but I'm sensitive with people close to me.

Amy, even with the smallest of things, no one hurts me more than you do. Because I open myself up to you, because I trust you, because I let my guard down around you. I value you, and what you say, and that's why you hurt me. Otherwise, I could care less what you said or did.


My one last hope of turning such a terrible Valentine's Day around was to talk to Mikey, to tell him that I love him on a day that it's kind of expected. But I have to get offline. I'm probably going to go sulk, and mope, and write a very long blog. Probably.

Mikey, I love you, and as cliché as Valentine's Day can be, I wish I could have spent it with you. I'll be thinking of our days snuggled up on our porch in Seattle, watching the rain fall.


---Kira
07:01 p.m. on Friday, February 14, 2003

Gackt boi boi

Which Gackt are you most like?
quiz by mcvarmazi
You are the absolutely adorable and quirky NYAN NYAN Gackt. Upon first listening to either U+K or Marmelade, many Gackt fans have a hard time believing he actually wrote these songs... they're just so damn cute and cheerful! Gackt definitely plays upon these hilarious stylistic disparities in his concerts by making their live performances an absolute riot to watch. U+K can't seem to get any funnier with its dancing cats, men in tutus and Ren going "Nya nya nyanyaa (etc)"... but when one of those cats breakdances and Gackt jumps up and down screaming "Nyan!!", you've probably fallen out of your chair in hysterics. The madness and weird Gackt-dancing continues into Marmelade as well.


KA. WA. II. >_O!!!!!!!



-Not- You're...not girlfriend material. Not because
you'd be a bad girlfriend, but because you're
not in the mindset to be one. You're childish
and silly. Also, you might not necessarily be
attracted to guys. ~shrugs~ whatever.

What Kind of Girlfriend Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

>_>................ Whatever.



hug from behind - you like to feel what the other
person is feeling and see things how they see
them. you tend to be serious and emotional.

What Sign of Affection Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Sure why not.



roleplay

What's YOUR sexual fetish?
brought to you by Quizilla

LOL



You are the typical feminist, depressed, artist.
You go against the crowd and do everything you
can to be different. Too bad noone notices.
Try communicating with people, not just looking
down on them.

What kind of typical high school character from a movie are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

I am Daria.



schizoid

Which Personality Disorder Do You Have?
brought to you by Quizilla



You're Kaworu Nagisa, the Fifth Child! So talented,
you can steal someone else's Eva, but can't
escape with your life, sadly.

Which Evangelion Pilot Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

I'm SUCH a Kaworu. I love him to death, he's so great.
03:55 p.m. on Wednesday, February 12, 2003

Teenage Guide to Popularity.

The world isn’t so bad.

I just figured this out.

The world is only as cruel and you choose to see; ignorance is bliss, but knowledge is power. How true, but nothing comes perfect; everything comes with pros and cons. As powerful as you become, you loose a precious innocence. You loose a happiness that you see in the eyes of a little kid playing in the mud—everything in the world is unimportant, compared to how you can clear the puddle in a single leap.

I’ve been disgusted with myself lately. Grades, to say the least. I know I can do better, I know my grade doesn’t really represent my intelligence, but my motivation is completely blown. I used to have such a motivation to learn, to be the top of my class. There wasn’t any competition for my attention or to be my top priority. But as I get farther along, and I start slipping away, I realize that now is the time to tighten my grip on my life. It’s been fun, but my childhood is over. I don’t care about my social life anymore. I don’t care about my clothes, my hair, my weight, or whether I should wear makeup or not. It seems so petty. Illogical, some would say. I want to become the person I used to be, back before my boring life was brightened up with my first best, best friend, Jessica. Maybe because I’m slipping away from her, I’m slipping away from my new self. I don’t mind being lonely anymore… people are too distracting.

I’m my new best friend, and I love it. It probably seems not to make sense to anyone, especially if I’m working for the exact OPPOSITE of what you’ve always wanted. But it all makes sense… I’m getting ready for life. My grades are extremely important. I’ve realized that studying, and homework, and paying attention in class is what I’ve been missing in my life. When I saw the F on my grade check, I was blown away. Me?? FLUNKING?! This was totally wrong. I had to at least have a C-. There’s something wrong with the computer, Mr. Krey.

Nope. It was true. I was failing a class, and that just disgusts me. I’m more ashamed than you can guess. I feel pathetic; I’ve become the lazy bum I’ve always resented. I dislike people who treat school like it’s all a joke, and I’ve become that person.

Something needs to change.

I can sit alone at lunch, I can go straight from my locker at the end of the day to my bus. I don’t need a social life. I’m not sure if the internet still has its hold on me anymore; it’s become more of a habit than a need. Grounded from the computer? Oh well.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I always do better when I’m alone, and I’m actually looking forward to it. I’ve gotten so used to friends and people around me, I’m depending on them. More than they know it. And it scares me. If you take the support from the tower, everything crumbles. I want to be my own support. I need me, and only me. I want to learn to depend on myself. It’s the only way to have peace of mind that everything will be okay. I’m afraid of devastation and failure, and I’ve become a failure myself.

If my mother knew, I’m sure she’d sit me down and tell me my grades are disappointing. I seem to not care anymore. It’s not that I don’t value her word, or her opinion. It’s only that when you’ve been shot, you don’t fear guns anymore. No one can be as disgusted and disappointed in me as myself. I’m my worst. “Be true! Be true! Be true! Show freely to the world, if not your worst, yet some trait whereby the worst may be inferred!”

I need to work on my motivation, I need to work on myself. I need to become more dependable.

You want answers? You want me to say just the right thing? I can’t stand hearing you cry over the phone. I want to smack you around until you get it. Everyone, and I mean everyone, knows the answers to their problems. Deep down they know what they have to face. The reason they come to me, is that I tell them exactly what they know they need. Trust yourselves more, because deep down you know what’s right.

I love people. I love interacting, studying, analyzing… they’re so interesting. I sit and watch them, and wonder if I’m really this different from them, or if they’re all just like me inside of their heart of hearts.

Maybe that’s why it’s so hard to withdraw myself. Maybe that’s why I want it to happen so badly. I feel like I treat everyone like a lab rat. I never, ever, analyze people I love. I know that when I do, they’ll stop being people to me and become an experiment. I highly value you, no matter who you are, but I don’t care how much you love me back.

I’m so weird. I don’t understand what I believe in. I love every single person… people. God, they’re so beautiful. No matter who, no matter what gender, now matter what age or size or past, they’re so beautiful to me. I love watching people. I feel like a father. I want to protect people, I want to protect people I love. I want them to love me as much as I love them. I guess I really do feel like an outsider… I feel like I’m watching my son grow into a man. I love the way they think, and react. I want to hug and kiss you. I want you to love me as much as I love you, just because you’re you.

I have the highest, highest respect for those who are themselves. No matter what.

There’s a boy, a nameless boy that I’ve never met, that I often see in the halls. His hair is always sticking upwards in a messy style. Sometimes he wears a bright, bright red jacket. When he walks by me, I see others around me giving him a second glance. Some laughing glances, some amazed, some lustful.

I want that.

There’s a boy, a nameless boy that I’ve never met. He’s gay. It’s obvious. He admits to it. And I love it. I LOVE it. I love him to death, and I don’t even know what he’s like. Every time I see him, I see the strongest person. Make all the jokes you want about his tight shirts, make all the jokes you want about his sexual preferences, but he’s the biggest MAN you’ll ever meet, because he’s man enough to not care what the hell you think.

And that’s that.

I want someone to hold. Maybe it sounds superficial. But I feel like I have so much affection inside, it’s starting to get to my head. I want a friend to hold and kiss on the forehead and cuddle with. (Er, preferably a boy.) I want to cuddle with him and know he’s always there to protect me, but never take advantage of me. I’ve always wanted someone to watch over me and stay awake until I fell asleep. I’ve always wanted someone to look out for me, to depend on. I fear depending on people, but I want that special friend. I don’t want love, but I want a friend to love. I’m not ready for love.. it’s just too much. I want someone. Like Aaron. Like you, Aaron. I want you so much, because you’re a cuddlebug and you’re a great friend. You’re sweet and you act like such a girl sometimes. We can talk about guys and snuggle without worrying. I want that, SO bad. I want to read manga with you under the trees on a summer day, foo’.

My mother says I’m mature. My mother says a lot of things. Am I really? Or is it just a mom thing? I feel like such a kid: I’m not interested in “love” yet (or dating), I’m pretty damn weird, I’m hardly anything of a girl, and I find happiness in the simplest of things.

I want to be a girl. I want to go to college. I want to depend on someone completely. I want to fall in love. I want to allow myself to fall in love. I want to want to fall in love. I don’t want to be a failure. I want my name to be remembered. I want to be a legacy. I want to start a legacy, only to pass it down to generations to come. I want people to know my name. I want people to talk about me, think about me. I want to be superficial. I want a perfect life, even if I really don’t. I want to make everyone else’s decisions. It would be so much easier.

I’m listening to Nirvana. Excuse my……. “mood”.

I feel like talking about people I know.

Chip, stop complaining. You piss me off. I love you, though. You’re too innocent. I feel like I’m talking to a 4 year old when I’m around you. You told me I’ve changed, but is that such a bad thing? Everyone’s changing and you’re still the child you were in the 5th grade. I don’t talk to you, because I have nothing to say. We have no common interests. I want to talk to you, I want to be your friend, I want to get online and scream “CHIIIPPP!!” like Amy does, but I usually never notice. I want what Amy has about you. An addiction. I want to live off you, so you feel like I care. And I do. But I don’t feel like it right now. I’m sorry for being such an unmotivated, terrible friend.

Amy. [long pause] too much to say. And Chip’ll complain that your “paragraph was longer” if I say it all. Lets just leave it to the Golden Silence to say everything for me.

Tommy. Tommy, Tommy, Tommy. I. Do. Not. Understand. You. At. Freaking. All. You are a friggen puzzle. You don’t even seem human at times. No wonder Amy gets choked up about you. It seems obvious to me; if you give her so many emotional problems, then maybe you aren’t good for her. Maybe she should just walk away. But you make it SO DAMN HARD to do that. You’re rude, and cruel at times. You’re many things that I dislike. But you arouse a weird feeling. A feeling of acceptance, a feeling of belonging. Sometimes I’ve found myself wanting to kiss you, even if it’s only out of a vague curiosity. I want to find the part of you that makes me feel good, and break it. I want to rip it out, throw it on the ground, and stomp it to thousands of pieces. I call you pet names that annoy you, in hopes that someday you’ll hate me like you say you will. I want that hate. I want to live off that hate. You’re the only person I could ever hate, and it makes me want to bring you down even more. A perverse love, maybe? I care so much about you. It’s disgusting me.

Trina. It’s been so long since I’ve written about you. No matter how long it’s been since we’ve made fun of each other, I feel just the same as I did years ago. You’re my sister, and I want to drag you everywhere with me. I want you to be my other half. You’re the swellest lady around. I don’t care if you’re gay, a greasy monkey, or a gypsy, you’ll always be my sista. Hooah, you bring out the bad in me.

I suddenly feel much better, since I’m listening to a different song. Remind me to never, ever buy a Nirvana CD. Geez.

The best for last.

Last but not least.

The Grand Finale.

[you get the picture.]

Michael Meyer. Boy, you’ve got me wrapped around your finger. I’d so anything for you, and that’s a tad scary.

You know when you’re outside, maybe driving, on a summer night?

With the wind a little warm and blowing in your face? Messing up your hair?

And that smell. The smell of night. Clean. When you stop trusting your eyes, and leave everything to your other senses. Things feel a little more real, you can hear the crickets buzzing and chirping.

Yeah. That. That’s what it’s like to be with Mikey.

Maybe it sounds a little crazy, but he reminds of rain, and summer, and being cuddled by someone you care about. I’m trying so hard to explain it. It’s love so deep, that it feels childish. It feels like I should have outgrown it years ago. Like an old coat. He reminds me of being held, and being kissed on the head. He reminds me of the feeling of pride I get when I finally finish a picture I like. He reminds me of what it feels like to know someone thought of you that day. He’s like the feeling you get when you overcome when no one thought you could. He gives you the feeling that you’re special, you’re one in a million. You know that feeling you get when your favorite song is on the radio? When you find 20 dollars in your back pocket? When you ace a test you were sure you’d fail? When you find out someone got you a present, and it isn’t a holiday OR your birthday? Being loved, having things go right. That’s all the feelings I get from him.

I would marry him, I seriously would, if I knew it was okay. If it was all okay, and if we were together, I would marry him in a heartbeat. I sound naïve, I sound ridiculous and reckless, but it’s all the honest truth.

I’m getting a little sleepy. Rambling for nearly 3 pages in Microsoft Word at a font size of 9 tires me out. I’m sure when I incorporate this into my blog, it’ll be lengthy.

send the pain below | much like suffocating.


---Kira
03:20 p.m. on Wednesday, February 12, 2003

Cartoon Network, HUZZAH!

[psst. all the times are in CENTRAL time, cos that's wot my time is, bwahahahaa.]

IMPORTANT DATES FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO, LIKE ME, ARE WAY TOO LAZY TO BUY ANIME, AND THEREFORE WATCH CRAPPY CENSORED/DUBBED CARTOON NETWORK STUFFS.

February 10th, 2003:
Inuyasha goes off air, Reign: the Conquerer shoves Lupin into Inu's old timeslot and takes over at 11:00 pm T_T Stupid Alexander the Great...


February 24th, 2003:
Neon Genesis Evangelion is finally coming to Cartoon Network! It'll be on 3:30, with Nadesico airing beforehand at 3:00. So far that I know, Eva will only be aired on the 24th and 25th, and Nadesico will be extended another day, 24th, 25th, and 26th. That sucks ass. So! If you've never seen Evangelion and have heard me hype about it, go take a look! It may be in the crappy dub, and it may be censored, but heck, it's still NGE.


March 1st, 2003:
.HACK//SIGN is moved from 2 pm on Saturdays to 11 pm. Good news for those of you who are night owls or have busy Saturdays.


March 3rd, 2003:
Lupin doubles up, taking up the timeslot that used to be home to Yu Yu Hakusho, so that the Adult Swim becomes:
Reign
Lupin the 3rd
Lupin the 3rd
Cowboy Bebop
But Yu Yu Hakusho fans, never fear; it hasn't been dropped, only moved to Toonami at 5 pm, Monday-Friday.


March 10th, 2003:
INUYASHA COMES BACKKKKK!!!!!! >_O!!!!!!!

Ahem. Inuyasha comes back, and the Adult Swim schedule is fucked up once more. (Bwahahaha, poor Trina. Her Lupin is moved all the way to Cowboy Bebop's old timeslot. At least Inu and Bebop are at watchable times now @_@;;)
11:00 p.m. Inuyasha
11:30 p.m. Cowboy Bebop
12:00 a.m. Reign: The Conqueror
12:30 a.m. Lupin the 3rd

Well, the Inuyasha eps are reruns, but at least people (like me) who missed some older Inu episodes can to catch up.


Welp. That's about it. Since these things can change, check up at Cartoon Network if you have any doubts. Toodles.


---Kira
01:32 p.m. on Sunday, February 9, 2003

take my loved and love my taken

I can't believe enough people read this that they start asking me to update. Back when I had my dinky "black rainbow" blog, only a few friends read it. But I guess being a blog veteran has it's upsides. [You xanga newbies! Those aren't blogs! I've only seen a few xanga BLOGS. LOG. JOURNAL. Not "I did this today, and I think this person is cute. see you tomorrow". That's how you write in a diary? Cheapskates.]

What a weird week. I’ve been so happy, and yet at the same time, so lonely. No.. I’m not happy about being lonely … let me explain.

I’ve realized it’s useless to try and help people, because they usually disregard what you have to say until it turns into a reality. I wish people would listen to me more. I try my hardest to do the right thing, and I dunno if anyone really notices. I want people to have faith in me and trust me. I don’t like being hated. Those eyes, full of a perverse disgust and hatred. I’ll smile and shrug it off, but the truth is that inside I shudder. Like a type of dissolving confidence.

I don’t understand what makes me think differently. It seems that’s why people come to me for advice. Well here’s some advice: it’s hurting me. You think you’re hurting, and you are… and I wish I could be your mother or older sibling and hug you and kiss your forehead, but your ignorance bothers me. You’re being hurt, and I’m being hurt. I’m being disgraced. Someone is glaring at me, wishing I would die. Do you see that, or are you too fixed on the prize? I wonder if you realize how much pain you bring me. But I love you, anyways.

I feel lonely because I feel segregated. I feel second. Does that make him happy? I hope so. I wouldn’t be surprised if the pain made him smile, maybe chuckle. I don’t understand why you find him so intoxicating. He intimidates me in an irritating way. I think about him, and care about him, but I don’t like him. I don’t know if I hate him. It isn’t hate. It’s not fear. It’s just a barrier he puts up when he wants to be pathetic.

I feel stressed, because I want to change badly. I want to be more likable, I want to be more organized, hardworking, caring, thoughtful. I want a drive. Mrs. Churchill told me my weakness is that I have no drive to do what I do. I guess that’s important, but who needs drive when you’re being forced to do something anyways? I feel drive when I’m drawing, or singing at the top of my lungs in the shower, or sketching out a perfect storyline in my head. I feel drive when I feel like it, if that makes sense. I want to change from a stubborn, dense girl, to a smart resourceful one. I envy Tanner so much. I wish I knew what I was doing. I guess even he gets confused, but the way he talks, and acts.. it’s like he’s an old soul that knows its way around the forest. I’m just the new girl in town who gets lost easily.

I feel happy, for a simple and somewhat irrelevant reason. Something I’m sure normal people wouldn’t think twice about: being a kid. Singing in the shower, playing in the water before it goes down the drain, finding an old friend, finding a new friend, playing with my dog, sleeping. I LOVE these things. I live off the elated, content feeling I get from them. The way bellowing out your favorite classic songs during a shower makes you feel just... cool. You feel like you’re in a friggen movie, man. There’s a close-up on your face… you grab the shampoo bottle as you hit the chorus! Bang, wham, boom! Oh, stop the applause.. that was only the first song.

Being weird and goofy also has its advantages. The biggest, best quality I want in a friend (or more) is a sense of humor. Not a mean, cruel one… not the knock-knock jokes. The personality that makes you smile, whether they’re talking about their daily mishaps or putting on their shoes. I love smiles. I love people who can be incredibly insane one moment, and then caring and thoughtful. [In other words, I love you, Mikey XD]

Another thing that has given me a high: I found my Voltaic! Ah, okay, fine. So I hardly know him. But there’s something in his art, and the way he writes, that makes me wish I had the guts to just e-mail him or something. I want to know him better, but I feel so irritating to people. There’s always that picture I look at that gives me the chills… I hear comments on his art like “pretty”, etc, but usually it looks painful. (Am I even making sense?) Whether it’s the hallow look in the character’s eyes, or just the expression, they all look pained in their own way. He feels like he’d be the big brother type. When he left for a while, I kinda sulked and strayed from the oekaki board.. but when I came back to check up, I almost fell over when I saw his name. It made me happy.. it’s like a part of me came back when he did. As small a thing as that is, and as silly as it seems, he made me very happy. Just being able to take pleasure in something so much simpler than the usual. Making a friend.

I felt happiest when, in his first post in a long time, he asked “So…um, where’s Kira?” (But that new girl is a little irritating, she’s always all over him v.v;; Jealous?? Wot??)

When I find out someone thought about me, or acknowledged me, I tend to get dizzy with happiness. It just seems too much of an accomplishment, to go from someone without a friend to someone who doesn’t have to beg for attention. But I guess I’m babbling yet again.



My pain shadows behind your eyes, sacred sleepiness that you fall into happily. The grasp is the slip,

Keeping you holding onto nothing. You can’t speak but you’re yelling at me, your eyes are sown

Shut. Take my loved and love my taken, because you can’t repair the trust you’ve shaken. Rhyme

The trees and rock the leaves, because you can’t repair the trust you’ve gored. Scream the cuss and

Cuss your father, because you can’t repair the hearts you’ve broken. Wait under the rain to find Your stars, but it’s impossible. It’s impossible to look into the wind, it’s Impossible to look into the rain. What’s the brand new name? Snapple naps snapping the apple trees. Fuck, I love You. Shit, I hate You. When will this terrible date end? When will you shut me out? How farther can I push in until It bursts? I want to find out. Am I selfish? I want to be selfish and hateful. Where do I fit in? I don't want to fit in, I want to be pitiful and hyprocitical. Let me in. .nekat ym evol dna devol ym ekat I want to wear your pain on a necklace that shines like your blood. I want to make it a fashion statement but I gave you all my stained clothes.

[fin_----]


---Kira
12:53 p.m. on Saturday, February 8, 2003

Smart Selectors!

[all of these are from the "Final Fantasy" section of http://www.selectsmart.com/ ]


FF8: Squall Leonheart
FF Villian: Reno of the Turks
FF X weapon: Auron's Katana (Piercing)

More to come X3!!!!!!!!!!!1
04:33 p.m. on Wednesday, January 29, 2003

i wanna have control

Note: I wrote this last night, right after waking up from the dream.

I just had an awful dream.

I went to bed at 6 pm, waking up now and then. My lack of sleep is getting a little scary; I feel like I could fall asleep anywhere. So I decided to take a long nap, get up a little later, finish my homework, and then go to bed. That way I get more than 4 hours of sleep.

I woke up a little after 9:30 pm, and conked out again.

Quincy and I were at a restaurant. He fiddled with his hat and gloves at the table, and we already finished eating. It was silent, in a comfortable way.

“I need to talk to you.” He said, in his quiet, somewhat scared voice that makes me shiver.
“I’m right here.”
"...Ashley, I didn’t... ... Ash, I’m dying.”
Pause.
“No, you’re not.”
“Ashley, I am. Please don’t deny this...”
“You’re not.” I said firmly, getting up from the table. “Lets get going, before it gets cold.”

He didn’t get up. He sat, looking down at his hat, his hair falling into his face in a way that broke my heart. It was like he was hiding or scared. My heart softened.

“Ashley, sit down,” he murmured.

I sat. He pulled his chair over to my side of the table so that we were really face-to-face.

“Ashley, I’m dying.”

This time it hurt. He held up a single, white glove. It hurt even more, and I don’t even understand why. It reminded me of my grandfather. I was going to go to Quincy’s funeral and see his pale body lying in his casket. I was going to cry, and cry, because he’s not smiling any more. He’s not laughing any more. He would only be the empty shell left. He would never look at me, or talk to me again. He was going to be as pale as the glove he held up to me.

I was crying by now. His eyes were even sadder and duller.

“What about the game?” I choked. I didn’t want to finish it without him. I would be alone. “The manga, the whole thing, our friendship?! Where will it all go?” I held my stomach, keeling over and sobbing… I felt like my insides were turning inside out. This can’t be happening, this is just too evil. I hated God, I hated myself, and I hated death. I thought to myself, “it should be me instead.”

We didn’t talk. I just sat there, hunched over while crying. He leaned over after a while and rested his head on top of mine with one hand on my shoulder, giving me a half-hug. We sat in silence for eternity.

Shortly after, I woke up crying. In my dreams, no matter how strange it is, I believe everything that happens. Like a little kid who believes without a doubt that Santa Claus exists [and he does], I had no doubt that Quincy was going to die. The relief I experienced afterwards was incredible, but the dream still haunted me. It still made me sick to think of seeing Quincy in a casket. It scared me. It was like.. a terrible joke that horrifies you, and then you find out it was all a lie. You don’t know if you should be angry or relieved. Maybe Amy relates.

But the daunting, unusual thing is that I cried. As much as I really tried, I could never cry for my grandfather, even if he was flesh and blood. I felt so cold for that. I felt so selfish, that I couldn’t even mourn over what a good person he was. It just wasn’t there. It still isn’t there.

And Yet I Cried.

I cried quite a bit. I even woke up crying. I woke up, choking and with the same feeling as in the dream.. I felt sick, disgusted, panicked. But I was still crying. I hugged my pillow, saying to myself “it was a dream, dolt. Stop acting so upset over something that never happened.”

The white, dull face my grandfather wore to his funeral and Quincy’s should never cross over. I don’t ever want to see it. I don’t want to see what I saw in my dreams. The only time I ever want to see him in a tuxedo is at his wedding, not in his casket. I saw it.. I saw Quincy dead. I feel sick, and I’m not even sure why.

Why Did i Cry. To be honest and frank, I wouldn’t have cried if Tommy’s twisted “joke” was true. I was in disbelief, but it never impacted me. More or less, I was worried over how Amy was. When he told us he had leukemia, she looked dazed. The kind of thick, odd look she gets before she cries. I waited for her outside the cafeteria while she talked with Tommy, and when she came out, I said “Wow, it looked like you were gonna cry in there.” <-- is stupidly blunt. She began to cry, her voice quivering. I felt bad for her, but I didn’t realize that I felt worse for her than for him. Even if it all turned out to be a “joke”, I still felt nothing but a hope it wasn’t true. If it was true, I would probably eventually start to be as affected as Amy, but if it wasn’t, my little trust in him would start dissolving. And it has. It’s dissolved into a small particle, the particle of me that doesn’t want to let go at all. (and I write “joke” because jokes are funny.)

Thing is, is that I love Tommy in a weird way. I love him like a father loves his son. I want to see the good person he’ll become no matter how much he screws up. I’ll always love him, even if he hates me. I don’t find him attractive, but I think he’s handsome. I want him to open up, I want to be there for him, I want him to be able to talk to me. I want to be his friend, but I want him to grow up. I want him to get out of his Pity Hole in the ground and become someone, someone who doesn’t result to senseless lies that hurts people. But I couldn’t ever hate him, even if I wanted to. Fathers and sons are much different than mothers and daughters. Boys learn how to be a man from their fathers. They learn what being a man means. They learn right from wrong. That’s probably why I love him more fatherly than motherly; I don’t just want to care for him, I want him to become a man.

In the same way, I love Amy like a big brother. [I guess I should have been a boy o_O] I want to protect her, I want her to stand up for herself. I want her to learn how strong she can be, I want her to know how beautiful she is, I know she’ll become a great person. I never want her to hurt, but I know she needs to learn how to depend on herself. I watch at the sidelines and step in when I know she’s had enough. I want her to understand, I want her to be aware, I want her to be able to trust me without a single doubt. I love her, and she’s my best friend. She may be a little dense once in a while, but she’s what everyone should be. She’s the only person I know that isn’t clouded with depressing thoughts, or corrupted with the world. I guess that’s a double-edged sword. On one hand, she seems out of the loop and behind the times, but on the other, she’s protected from a lot of things that I wish I didn’t know. I hope she understands how dear her innocence is.

I just can’t shake that dream. Wish my luck on my bloo-day English homework.


---Kira
03:27 p.m. on Wednesday, January 29, 2003

feeling sick

at the moment i'm [or at least supposed to be] researching for an assignment in American History. i feel sick. i feel like this has been a terrible day. since i woke up i've been wanting to go to sleep. i want to sleep and sleep and not wake up for days. i feel so tired. i feel tired of being angry, tired of feeling weak, tired of dreading school.

i was watching "Sleepless in Seattle" and "When Harry Met Sally..." a few days ago until early morning. i couldn't stop smiling. in Sleepless it was raining.. i wonder if it'll be like that. i wonder how rain could make me feel so warm. it's amazing how people can affect you. it's amazing how just one person can make getting out of bed in the morning not so bad. i miss him so much, sometimes I feel a little ridiculous. i worry it'll all turn out the same, and i'll end up feeling used and forgotten. although that fear is always in the back of my mind, it doesn't feel like it fits him. it doesn't seem like it would ever happen. no one that makes me that happy would ever hurt me; no one who makes me smile so much would ever leave me.

that's what you thought before.

you've already told yourself that.

i'm angry. i feel like no one understands. "he's so deep and hurt" Becky says. Deep and hurt? Deep.. possibly. Hurt? Everyone Hurts. Everyone feels pain like they're the only one who's ever experienced it. But this feels so wrong. This feels like it's pity for oneself. Wounded, Hurt, Torn, Broken, Fallen, Bleeding. Bleeding on the cold kitchen floor. I've been there. Stop bitching. Excuses? Why do you have to make excuses. why do you have to hurt me. why do you say you love me, then hurt me. twist me. bend me. make me feel inferior. you're pretty energetic for someone so Wounded.

Why do people like pain, then complain about it? They like to see you squirm, they like to make you feel so disgusted with yourself you want to puke. But Don't Turn On Them. Don't hurt them. Don't turn away. Don't look away. Don't hate them. Because it all hurts just too much; it hurts them to know that they're bad people. Brutal people turn into paper glass that could easily shatter. i feel terrible at how pityless i am for you. i feel like i should be crying. i feel like i should be worried. i want to be, desperately. but it's just not there.


not fucking there.

Mikey, I miss you. I'm hanging on to a little thought of talking to you. I'm hanging onto the feeling of having someone who cares about me, thinking about me. I love you.


---me.
02:00 p.m. on Tuesday, January 28, 2003

reminiscing familiar seraphs

I’ve loaded my winamp with songs I used to live by. I would burn them onto CDs and listen to them on the bus, between classes, and especially at night. At night, when I was all alone and with that feeling of relief you get when you’re finished for the day. I hate how sleep seems to not exist. I don’t like to wake up and feel like it was hardly anything of a break. Playing music before you sleep seems to make it feel longer… you fall to sleep listening to songs that move you, and so it gives your dreams a theme song. You don’t remember ever falling asleep, because there’s no difference. You’re lost in the songs awake, and in your dreams.

Current Nostalgic Winamp Playlist:
1-The Verve Pipe, “Freshman”
2- Sound Garden, “Black Hole Sun”
3- Brother Iz, “Somewhere over the rainbow”
4- Foo Fighters, “Everlong”
5- Andreas Johnson, “Glorious”
6- Sugarcult, “Pretty Girl (The Way)”
7- Sparta, “Air”

FRESHMAN.
I was lonely. Completely lonely. I didn’t have friends, my parents fought constantly, and I hated school. I hated being in the 6th grade. I hated wondering if I was really so weird that people disliked me. When “Freshman” would come on the radio, I would cry. I would cry because I wondered if I would even have friends when I was a freshman? I was scared of myself. I was scared of how lonely I was. I knew that if something doesn’t change, I might do something. I hated thinking about it, but the older I got the less I wanted to live. I put that in the back of my mind.. it was a black little secret. I knew it wasn’t the answer, but it seemed so easy. It seemed like the perfect resolution. It seemed like a way to tell everyone how much they hurt me. I wanted to stop hurting.


EVERLONG
It was perfect. Riding in the back of a silver Mustang convertible through the mountains and deserts of Arizona, I felt happy. Happier than I usually allow myself to be. I was with the two people I loved the most. My mother, sister and I had taken a spring break trip together. It was perfect; a perfect hotel, a perfect setting, a perfect week, a perfect time. The hotel sparkled… it was set next to a canyon-like mountain in the beautiful desert. It had been rainy a few days before we arrived, and suddenly the temperatures became absolutely perfect. Middle 80s with a small, warm breeze. We took a trip up into the mountains, driving through the valleys and canyons. I remember refusing to put my hair up in a ponytail while in the back seat of the convertible, and therefore suffering a mass of tangled hair. When we got back to the hotel, I had to use a brush in the shower while pouring conditioner all over it.. I used half a bottle X.x;

We stopped at a supermarket, and Tania[sister] and I sat in the parking lot. The radio blared songs that my favorite radio station back home plays late at night, one of them being “Black Hole Sun”. The sister and I both hummed and lightly sang the song, giving each other a little smile. Back at the hotel, we decided to go out to eat together, since it was our last night to stay. We were out driving on the town, and I leaned back [wearing a pony tail, of course] and closed my eyes. While driving over a bridge, the air was filled with the scent of lilacs, my favorite flower… my mother figured that wild lilacs grew in the heavy woods we were drove over. Being engulfed in the warm air, and smelling the strong smell of lilacs around me, it was the climax of my happiness. I felt like I was in love, that heightened feeling of a sensual peace. I wanted to freeze this moment in time, and save it in my back pocket. I wanted to pull it out and hug it when I went back home, so I would always remember the experience.

The restaurant was beautiful; we sat at a table under the stars, on a patio that was built around a tree. Draped and wrapped around the tree and its limbs were pretty white Christmas lights, which aided the candles to light up the patio. Tania had lobster for dinner, which I crinkled my nose at. Well, it’s not pretty. Lobsters look like bugs >.>; I was distracted for a moment, and when I turned around I had a large, red, buggy lobster in my face. I fall backwards and cried out, and my sister and mother both laughed at me. I took a straw, inhaled water into it, and shot it out toward Tania… she did the same. My mother, getting somewhat upset, told us to behave in such a nice restaurant. She took a sip of her water through her straw… then pulled it out of the glass and fired it out at us. We both dodged out of the way, and it splattered onto a middle-aged woman’s back. O.o;; We exchanged looks and quickly went to silently reading our menus. The woman never turned around.. thankfully she never noticed.

Our last day was terrible. I felt weird… like we shouldn’t be leaving yet. I wish we hadn’t, because as soon as we got back, all of our lives began to tumble down. My sister’s fiancée and the father of the baby she was pregnant with went mentally insane…it was frightening. She was so impacted and torn up that she had an episode and ended up in the hospital. My mother’s marriage was seemingly even more tattered than usual, not to mention she was stressed constantly about my sister’s crazy ex, Chris. He had said that my mother and grandmother were “after him”, and that he would kill them in they tried anything. We got a restraining order on our house, and my mother’s hugs lingered a little longer than usual.

I strain to remember the lilacs.


PRETTY GIRL
I just dunno.
12:42 p.m. on Thursday, January 23, 2003

More quizlets. o_o

You'll probably love powersugoi.net. (sic!!)
Which Koi Variety Are You?

^^;

You are FIRE! When the shit hits the fan, you're the first to react and you're not shy about it either! You are sincere and protective, but tend to express your feelings poorly, and so you are often misunderstood. But don't worry, worthy trainers know the truth.

What Kind Of Pokémon Are You?

>_> Fire pokémon are my favorites. Back in the day... man, I had it all. Pokémon Red, Pokémon Blue, Pokémon Gold, Pokémon Pinball. I was a junkie. (I used to watch the show early in the morning, before it turned huge in the US. o_o When it became this huge kid thing, I grew out of it.)

Which Sesame Street Muppet Are You?

@_@;;


Best Inuyasha Partner Test by Umi
You've got Inuyasha(ningen)! You are caring and always protective of the ones you love. So is he too, much more soft-hearted than the hanyou Inuyasha. What a perfect match you guys make!

What a cutie o_o;;
08:30 p.m. on Saturday, January 18, 2003

I ammmmmmmm........

Which Evangelion Child Are You?

Shinji-kun!


What Ragnarok Character Should You Be?
Quiz by Angelhalo

>:3 Mwahahahah! Enemies beware! [runs around cackling]

Escaflowne-Dilandau [>:DDD]

Cowboy Bebop-Faye Valentine [o.o;;]

Evangelion-Shinji Ikari [again -.-;]

Eva Unit- Eva Unit 01

Invader Zim!-GIR

Yami no Matsuei-Tsuzuki Asato [Mikey got Hisoka ^_______^]

Suikoden(male)-Hix

Inuyasha-Inuyasha [-_-()]


That was just too much fun. Now a small little blog. ^_^

You know that thick feeling you have when you're waking up? Like you're trapped between conciousness and reality? You hear the song that your radio alarm is blaring, but it's only a soft whisper of sounds in your dreams? How time seems to have no meaning? I hate that feeling. I hate not being able to control and be concious of everything. I hate that there's a part of me I don't know, my subconcious. I want to control my dreams, and my thoughts. The feeling that something else controls my mind makes me feel insecure, or afraid. I want to be the only one in my head.

I woke up groggily, only to have my radio blasting some rock song in my ear. I slapped the "snooze" button and groaned, stretching and whimpering. Oh, please.... and snow day, snow day. We had one yesterday! Lets have one again!

I threw off the covers, and jumped on the floor infront of my TV. Please! Please! Snow day! Snowday! X.x... I flipped through the channels and landed on the news. The bottom scrolled the names of the schools that were called of. I waited. And waited. H... I.... NOOOOOOO!!! LEE'S SUMMIT R-7!! Lees Summit r-7! Nuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu..... it wasn't a snow day... T_T I whimpered as the scrolling continued with the M districts.

I trudged down the stairs in my PJs, searching for my jeans. Apparently my mother had washed my clothes. I walked to my mother's room and tapped on the door.

"Mom?"
.............
"MOooooooooooom??"
.............

I pushed the door open, and no one was there. Suddenly, I heard a thundering pounding on the floor, as if someone were running up behind me.

"UWAHAHHHEEEEEEEEEEE!!" <---- ...the way I screamed.

Jazz pounced me, body wiggling and tail wagging furiously. My mother laughed at me, who was in a state of shock and fury. -____- I laughed nervously, and petted Jazz on the head.

"C.. Caught me offguard."
"Did that wake you up? [sweet motherly smile]"
Glareglareglareglareglare.

I flicked Jazz's ear and trudged back up the stairs. Why yes, it did. -_______-.


---Kira
05:12 p.m. on Friday, January 17, 2003

shovel for yo monay

my recent conversation with my lovely mother.


[calls mother on her cell]
ring ring.
Mum: 'Ello?
Me: Yo!
Mum: Hey babes.
Me: I shoveled the backyard.
Mum: Backyard? You didn't have to do that.
Me: Yar yar, I did it for Jazz. For the front part of the house, I'm asking for 40 dollars.
Mum: Fuh-FORTY dollars?! Hell no!
Me: Okay. Nevermind, then. You can get your heels all snowy when you get out of the car, not my problem.
Mum: Austin'll do it for free.
Me: Grrrrrrrrrrrr! Not fair!
Mum: 20 dollars for the main part of the driveway and the sidewalk.
Me: .......... 25 for everything.
Mum: Deal.
Me: *sighs* You cut my asking price down to 5/8ths of it! Woman!
Mum: And youuuuuu fellllll for it. *laughs warmly.*


What an evil, evil mother.


---Kira
10:58 a.m. on Thursday, January 16, 2003

Tribute to 'Little'

climbing out of the sky
a man who could fly
and a painting anyone could play.
It's a comic book crush
that taught you to trust.
Staring out of the stands
at a rock n roll band
and a hero no one else could save,
it was never much
but it's all that you gave.

And I wonder
if you wonder
or did your stars finally explode?
Did the thunder
pull you underneath the haze?
I'm amazed
then I let go.

Little minds
let little games
burn big old dreams
with little flames,
and you don't think I understand.
Little holes
in parachutes
won't leave you falling,
and if they do
it's because you want to land.

Climbing out of his chair
to fix the T.V. glare
is a man
but no one knows he's there.
It's a Dramamine dream
that kept them alive but lost.
She's got her plastic friends
and a brand new Benz
and she laughs,
"Hell, sometimes life ain't fair"
It's a comic book crush
that got them nowhere.

These elevator doors are closing
again you leave
before I planned.
I taste you walking
down the hall.
You left your perfume
on the nightstand.

-'Little', Something Corporate.


it's because you want to land.....


---Kira
03:56 p.m. on Tuesday, January 14, 2003

fucked. up.(so analyze me)

ohhh, i like him so much!!!!

i promised myself to not like him. since she did.

i encouraged you.. i told you to go for it. but secretly, i wanted to finish the race ahead of you. i wanted him so much, i made myself promise to never allow myself to want him. do promises last forever, even if they're irrelevant?

i'm afraid of myself. i'm mad at myself. Aaron: it's true. i hate myself because i bully myself, and i bully myself because i'm hateful. you don't like people that hate you, do you?

"I'm so fucked up."


Quincy asked me to so a song for his band or summat.. i was pretty flattered and shocked. i wasn't sure how desperate he had to be, but i'm not gonna bite the hand that feeds me. i'm going to purr and nuzzle it.

Mikey's gone on a trip... i miss him. i wish i could more for him, i wish i could show him i really care about him. i wish i could hug him and tell him he's talented, and wonderful, and i think of him as a hero. he'll always be my hero.. even if he's the one that needs saving. (and this picture isn't as bright as it acts, but the negative is still dark.)

i feel closer to Amy than normal. i don't know, i guess i always felt like she only hung out with me when she didn't have anyone else to talk to. same with Becky. it makes me feel happier than normal.

Tommy's Tommy. i dunno what to do with that boy. i love him 'n' all, but if he tricks me into thinking something ONE more time...*growls* >0<

I wish I could allow myself to be in love. I want to fall desperately in love with someone I could never have, I want to be broken apart and used. Why? Why am I so fucked up? I want to know what it feels like to be hurt. i want to be able to accept i'm not a happy person by truly not being happy. i'm so selfish.. and pathetic.... i want pain so i can diagnose myself. i want reassurance. i want an excuse.

i want to get out of here. i want to feel worth something. i want to stop rambling about my crap emotions. i want to talk to tanner and tell him everything. i wish i knew him better. i wish i didn't feel like a fool when i even think of him. i want a life-long friend. i want to be a kid again.... i hate love. and i'm not sorry for saying that.


---Kira
04:24 p.m. on Thursday, January 9, 2003

Stairway to Heaven

I walked into the funeral home, dressed totally in black. The air seemed dull, but everyone was smiling softly to each other. The way you smile at someone when you want to comfort them.

I didn't really feel anything. It hadn't registered he was dead.. he just seemed like he went away. On a vacation.. he'll be back later.

I hugged Trish, his wife (my, uh, step-grandmother?) and she heavily drew a breath. I felt bad for not being able to share her feelings of pain... she smiled weakly at me. I couldn't take it. But I couldn't look at the casket... I didn't want to see it.

But eventually I did. Eventually I brought myself to the casket where he lay, and stared. The man who always grinned at me, laughed warmly and demanded a hug if I was to ride one of his horses. The man who stared at my painting of his horse like it was a part of himself I recreated, the man whose blue eyes always gleamed when he thought up a new joke. This man was dead, frowning in his casket in a somewhat peaceful way. He wasn't breathing.. he wasn't smiling at me.. he wasn't reaching up to take my hand in his like he did days before he died. I don't understand why he isn't doing these things... why can't he...

I guess I had been standing there for 10 or 15 minutes staring at him, because my mother put her hand on my shoulder and lead me to introduce me to some family I didn't meet. My mother talks about me, and about my drawing stuffs. -__- so when my mother says "this one is my artist I told you about" complete strangers smile and tell me things I already know about myself. I smile and shake their hands and stuffs. It gets old, but.. i don't want to be rude. -_-

Rick was there. I really really happy about that. I hadn't seen him in ages... my grandfather started getting sick right when my mother and I were going to go to some comic convention. At least it happened after my classes ended... o_o..

When my mother and Rick hugged, I winced. My stepfather saw. I knew he'd act snotty to her for it later when they got home, because he's so insecure and untrusting. Whenever she talks to other men he turns uber jerk and tends to get pouty. But hell, I pick Rick over Jim any day. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHHA eat dirt, Jim-slime! Kyeahhahahahahah.

It was a long, long, sad, long funeral and my feet started hurting from the heels. -_- I hate anything with high heels. and i was wearing a skirt, too. everyone O_O;;;s and gasps when I tell them i wore a skirt and heels. ¬.¬ yar yar, ashley broke her anti-girly code.

i don't know what to say. i hate phones now. and i hate talking about my feelings. who says girls make guys talk about their feelings too much?! it seems like IRL I guess I don't talk about mine enough. -_- Ashley in Terminal Lockdown.

I'm so effin' tired. I miss Mikey to bits. G'night.


---Kira
05:19 a.m. on Saturday, January 4, 2003

snow drops ~~*

imma searchin' the web for Gravitation pictures. why, you ask? well, i figure i've tortured Aa-kun with the fact that i still haven't picked a pictured out for our pitas layout, or even comtemplated our blog at all. so at the moment, i am scouring the 'net for bluddy pictures. it's not that i didn't like the picture[s] he gave me, it's just that they all cut off on most of the sides, making it hard to use for a layout. @_@;

i'm a little sad cos bakass.pitas.com isn't there anymore. i guess they took it down.. i_i

i'm glad Jessica's home. i kinda missed talking to her insanely. she really lets me blow off steam by acting like a total goof and chirping like Mikey's Maine Coon! XD

Why is finding Gravitation pictures so hard to do?! It's for sure Maki Murakami becomes a better artist as the series progresses... yay yay.

food calls. must answer.

i'll write about my lovely funeral event/dead man dream/crying family pictures/british transvestite comedian/uncomfortable Christmas party tonight and post it tomorrow. it's been a very busy week, for sure. -_-

Orororororororoorooro...


---Kira
06:19 p.m. on Wednesday, January 1, 2003

i don't know.

speaking in a language that's beautiful, feeling my heart being pulled out by coal black gloved hands. i don't know, i don't know. i want to curl up in the cockpit of this plane that's going too fast and sleep. i don't like thinking, i don't like wondering, calculating, weighing, deciding, not knowing. i reach out for love but when it's reaching out for me, i turn my eyes away. why?

i don't deserve it. i don't know what i deserve. i don't deserve anything i have, but do we ever deserve what we get? do we deserve to breathe? do we deserve being lucky? do i believe in fate? fate. fate. is everything planned out? is it my fate that i'm going to die tomorrow? can i evade the fate? or is what you do is your fate, instead of what you don't do?

i'm thinking too much again.

the faces.. they cried at my sight. my dream was fuzzy.. but their words were clear. they hated me.. i disgusted them.. they told me what was wrong with me and spat on me... i cried again. i cry too much, i must be weak. i feel like i'm lying to people. why do they depend on me? for advice? why do they do this when i'm so weak, and bitterhearted? how could someone ever love me? there's too many things i don't deserve, and one of them is love. i'm a dirty, black person inside.. i can feel my morals decaying in my chest, and a cancerous bitterness take it's place. it's alive, inside my bones and veins and blood, scorching me. poisoning my blood with sin.

sometimes i feel like i'm disappearing. i can't feel anything anymore. i'll close my eyes, and think about the stories of the people who lost themselves with no will to live, and therefore became dead while alive, unresponsive but breathing. maybe that'll happen... oh, please happen...

it's not that i don't care. i care about you. and i love you. but i could never trust you. can you deal with that? could you ever be able to kiss me and know that i fear being rejected and abused by you? i feel sick. i don't like talking about this, i don't like the feeling of ruining my life. ruining it by opening this blog, ruining it by not giving things a chance, ruining it for being a stupid person.

naive.. stupid.. useless.. clusmy... pathetic

i want to be broken to end this pain i'm causing on myself. i can't stop it. i can't stop hating myself, hating the mirror, hating the scale, hating the pencil, hating everything around me. i hate myself so much that in turn, i try to solve everyone else's problems. i get involved, i listen, i talk, i do whatever i can. maybe if i do this, they won't see i'm a bad person.... maybe, maybe, maybe, maybe.

i want to hide, and run, and be pathetic and worthless. i want pity i want love. i'm selfish.. so selfish.. i want my mother all to myself. i want my stepfather to die. i want to kick his tombstone and bask in the glory of being free. i hate his eyes... those eyes.. they see through me. all the way through me. they know what a bad person i am.. they see it. he's the only one that see's me for what i am and treats me accordingly. i hate him for being right. i hate my father for not being one. i've never had a father.. and in turn, i took what i thought i knew about men and took it into myself. so i was a tomboy, i hated girls and makeup and baths and pink and dresses. same with my mother and my sister... we were all fatherless, or at least never had a good one. we were our own fathers.

i can't trust, i can't do anything you'll want. you'll see, you'll see. i want you because i care about you and i want to take all the pain, and suffering, and distrust away. i want to make you happy. i want you, but i don't want to be yours. i don't know. i don't know, i don't know.

how could you. you couldn't, you shouldn't. just give up, i'm hopeless....


---Kira
09:44 p.m. on Friday, December 27, 2002

bluddy schnizerhiefen!

I took onna those name numerology tests. Here's my results:


3 Your Heart Number is 3 Being able to be around lots of different people is very important to you. You have a strong desire to communicate and express yourself in any way possible. Because of this, you may be attracted to a career in the arts.

4 Your Personality Number is 4 And you probably seem to be a very honest and dependable person to those around you. Even if you appear to be a bit stodgy or reserved at times, people do know that they can count on you

7 Your Image Number is 7 Makes you appear to be a bit removed from daily reality. You could be something of a loner, and your head may be in the clouds much of the time as you ponder some of the deeper issues in life.


how accurate =_=; I have been thinking about a lot of deep life issues lately. Love, happiness, wisdom... stuff like that. I'm trying my hardest to make good decisions, especially when it comes to people I care about. Tommy, I didn't say "I'll think about it" because I was too cowardly to answer you.. I said it because I wanted to think about it. Your feelings are important to me, and I don't want to take anything like that lightly. Becky told me she's noticed how I weigh my options and stuff.. and I hope she's right.

I don't know. I just don't know. If I said yes, it might turn out well, but I'm putting a lot of friendships on the line. If it's no, I know I'll regret it. I guess I just care so much about him, I'm afraid of losing him.

Maybe it's not that big of a deal. Amy yelled at me for thinking too much. Do I think too much? I know I ramble a lot, and I guess rambling is telling what's on your mind which is thinking and that means I think a lot. . . or something.

I think too much.


---Kira
09:33 a.m. on Friday, December 27, 2002

Christmas Eve

My grandfather's eyes are so glazed... he reaches out and takes my hand in his. I don't know what I'm supposed to do... so I smile and hug him. That always works: be affectionate. I kissed his cheek, and when I pulled back he was staring at the wall on the other side of the room. On the wall was a framed canvas of one of his horses, Doc. I'd done it for him as a special gift, and he never took his eyes off it. I wasn't there when my mother gave it to him, but she says he told everyone to get out of the room, so he could look his painting over. I've never had the feeling before that I got when my mother told me about how amazed and near tears they were. They were so convinced it was Doc, from the white eyelashes to the fimiliar cock of his head, from his erect ears to his deep brown curious eyes. I cried. They wanted another one. =_=()

I like that feeling. Of amazing people, of being admired. I'm not used to it, but I'm sure some people are. Whenever I get sincere reactions, it makes me proud of myself, which is rare for me to do.

Christmas is coming! yay yay.

I've been wanting a tablet. With a tablet, I can do comics easier on the computer and use stuffs for effects (ie tones).. I can animate our video game easier and faster... yadda yadda. I've asked for a tablet last Christmas... my birthday, and this Christmas. I even told my mother that if I got a tablet, she didn't have to get me anything else (since they're expensive). But I guess I'm not getting a tablet again. +.+()


Me: Oy, I need a tablet to do the animations and my comic. I hope I'm getting one.
Mum: O.o;;; *Screws up face* Oh...
Me: I'm not getting one, am I.
Mum: I never said that. But.. they're expensive, honey!


She's secretive. -_- Oh well, I'm try again for my birthday.

I have no idea what to blog about. Nothing much has happened... my gramps told my grandma that he's ready to die. My dad is getting surgery. I wouldn't be surprised if my mother and stepfather divorced. My best friend is moving away. I hate myself for being a terrible, ignorant friend. It's not snowing this year. My brother has suddenly become a playboy a-hole. My stepbrother won't stop taking my PS2 from my room without asking me first. I haven't seen Mikey in days.

MERRY EFFIN' CHRISTMAS!!


---Kira, the happy little elf.
03:55 p.m. on Tuesday, December 24, 2002

New Car Smell

i don't get things. i don't know who i'm supposed to be. i don't know if i really know what love is, i don't know if i want to. sometimes i get really angry with myself.. i start to loathe myself. i hate how limited i am, how dense i am, how annoying i am. i obsess easily; and i obsess over not having everyone like me. my entire life has been trying to get people to accept me.. and now that i have it, i don't know how to stop. i want people to love me, miss me, want me around, and when it's a one-sided thing, i tend to throw myself back. my idea of "like" and "dislike" are very seperate.

i love Quincy. not like that, but i love him. he's amazing. i've never met anyone like him. he can be so dedicated, so passionate. sometimes i wonder what it would have been like if we were friends like this back in elementary school. i guess i should listen to what people tell me and not look back, wasting my time while thinking of what "it would have been like if..." ...but it's hard not to. iunno.

he's really special. i'm glad to call him my friend, and i'm glad it's nothing more. he's too.. handsome. it sounds shallow, but if he wasn't dating jayne, i'd be too wrapped up in "don't act stupid, you knucklehead" to even be his friend. but since friends is all we are and ever will be, the need to impress him isn't there. it's not "don't be an ass don't make me look bad" it's "i wonder what stupid thing i've done lately that i can tell him about." we don't strive to impress our buddies, do we? no. we're us. and that is why, or at least my personal excuse, i am very glad Quincy has a girlfriend. or summat.

we're finally gonna see lorda' the rings 2. i betta scram. Ashi Out---


---Kira
01:35 p.m. on Saturday, December 21, 2002

I Be An All American Reject

I don't understand how people like Tanner and Mikey and Quincy can blog so well. It takes me forever to think up things.. @.@; But for them it's so perfect and well-written. Oy.

I am so, so very glad final is over. And that I have a 2-week break off school. The worst part is that 2 weeks isn't forever. -_- My grades are embarassing. I'm such a bum, I need to pick up the pace or I'll flunk. Yes, flunk! I've never flunked, or even gotten below a B- before 9th grade.. @.@;; But I /am/ glad that the school year is half over. Phew.

My mom gave me some fancy mints. You can tell they're fancy mints cos they're small and gross tasting and they're in a tin can. [noddle, noddle]

I feel like talking about people I know. So when they say "write about me! me me me!" I can say "I already did, you catfish." Yes. Like so.

I'm kinda peeved at Ames. I wait for her, every day, and sometimes I go to her locker and stuffs.. once in a while she goes to mine. But today, I just got so mad... i don't really know why anymore. I guess at the moment, all I felt is this.. useless, naive "you'd do anything for her, but she doesn't consider what you want" feeling. It's kinda embarassing and stupid, but I waited for her bus to arrive in the cold morning and went to her locker, but she wanted to go find her friend instead of going with me to put up my jacket. It pissed me off, so I stomped off.. and ignored her the rest of the day. Very immature, I know. Actually, approximately 30 seconds after I called her a brat and stomped away, I o_Oed at myself. But I was too stubborn to act like everything was okay... I mean, c'mon. Such a flamboyant exit shant be discarded so quickly.

I'm such a terrible, confused, effed up "friend".

Why am I always complaining? When people tell me about the crap in their lives, I think "....i'm such a whining, stupid, selfish ninny. these people are so strong, and have been through hell.. what right do I have, complaining to these people?" pffshaw. I miss Mikey. I miss Tanner. I miss Mikey again. I'm depressed cos my favorite online artist might loose his computer -_______-; and I've never even talked to him outside oekaki. I should feel like it's not my problem, since we're only acquaintances ... but I care like I've been buddies with him forever. _-_ I'm such a dork.

I have nothing to say. I have lost my blogging skillz. I miss talking to Tanner. I feel like a terrible friend. I wish Mikey was online, cos he makes me feel better. Yerf. *leaves to go watch Cartoon Network*


---Kira
03:31 p.m. on Friday, December 20, 2002

skewl sawks

I'm in keyboarding right now...o_o... maybe I should wait until I get home to blog? Nyah. I just read Mikey/Tommy/Tanner's blogs and my urges are overpowering. (o_O)

I don't know what to do about this comic thing... I have a basic idea of a plot, and a few basic main character drawings... I think, out of the 5 main characters... I want the 2 boys to be named "Aerik" and "Mercedes". I love the word Mercedes. Maybe I'll use another car name for my charas, they're all cool soundin

Quincy got voice actors 0.0;; For our video game! Wow this is gonna be awesome. I kinda feel pressured and anxious and I love it. It's like.. when you have that feeling when you have a huge project due... and you're so pumped up and full of worry and guilt of being so damn lazy. I live on that feeling, nightly.

I love the Dish Network satellite we got. I'm an MTV2-Comedy Central-Cartoon Network-Nickelodeon junkie. Here are my new favorites:

Ed, Edd, 'n Eddy(screw you, tantan, i like Edd!)
Invader Zim
Spongebob Squarepants (I thought this was the stupidest thing in the world.. until I watched it. o_o DAMN YOU JESSICA!)
Trigger Happy (....lol better than Jackass.)
The Osbournes
Courage the Cowardly Dog (Geez, he makes Lassie look like a drunkard pirate pollock with 3 left feet!)
The Brak Show (XDDD!!)

And there you have it. I'm a newly-borne cartoon junkie. tada.


---Kira
09:55 a.m. on Monday, December 16, 2002

Bunnysuit Surprise!

People don't often understand you - on one side, you like dressing up in animal clothes and maintaining the mentality of a seven year old. On another side, you can be serious when you want to, and you can give fairly good advice - but playing with your kumagorou is much more fun! Which Gravitation Character Are You?

Why do I always get Ryuichi?! I wanted Yuki or Shuichi! >_< At least he's cute. Mrrf.
This is what Mikey got. Bwahaha.
07:20 p.m. on Saturday, December 14, 2002

Satellite

…

I’m shivering again. Like I always do… I don’t even know why I shiver so intensely when it’s night…it’s technically Thursday, 12:02 a.m. In 6 hours I leave for school. I don’t know how I’ll ever sleep.

I finished a drawing to add to my website. Yeah… I’ve been trying to get new stuff up as much as I can. It’s a picture of my characters Volt and Kira raking leaves and stuff… …

I guess I can’t act cheerful and normal. I told myself I wouldn’t be as negative as I usually am, because enough people I know actually read this and worry over me. And I like it, I like the attention, even if it costs me my privacy. Sometimes I wish I never told anyone about my blog, and sometimes I’m glad I did.

I was lying in bed a little while ago, wondering how come I’m so unhappy. If you think I’m a happy person…you’ve been jipped. Sure, I’m happy sometimes, but of late I’ve been really miserable. And to tell the truth, I have nothing to be happy about. Absolutely nothing. My friends are slipping, I can’t be in love, my grades are dropping, my grandfather is dying, my mother is gone, my stepfather is a dominating jerk to me, I’m often insulted and put down at school and at home, and I have a bluddy artists block.

I remember when I was riding home with a friend, on the stupid bus, and some boys in the back seats would cough out an insult to me and then snicker to each other. No one noticed except for me. It was pathetic. Have they not changed at all in 2 years? Maybe I’m the one that hasn’t changed. And as asinine as they are, I have a hard time not believing them.

They always come on your worst days. It’s like everyone gets together and decides to make my day a living hell.

In need for toilet paper for my upstairs bathroom, I walked down my stairs to ask my mother for a roll. She was lying down on the couch, her head propped up against my stepfather’s thigh, and he was leaned back, watching TV. “Hey Mom,” I called out. I came to the end of the stairs and stood hardly 4 feet from behind them. No one even moved. “Mom?” …No response. I had a sudden surge of insecurity; maybe you don’t have this with your mother, but she’s my best friend. She knows me better than anyone, even Jessica. In honesty, I only trust her. But even if I figured she was asleep, I felt betrayed. The fact my stepfather didn’t make an attempt to answer me made it all worse. I felt disgusting, like he didn’t even want to acknowledge my existence. I always feel like this around him… like I’m an eyesore. Like I’m just so annoying, insignificant, and dense that he just doesn’t even want to try having a father-daughter relationship with me. And it hurts.

I stood there for a good 5 minutes. I didn’t want to believe I was being ignored. Maybe I wasn’t loud enough? Maybe he’s just being his slow, weird self and taking a long time to answer or do something you ask him to do? I kept waiting, until it was just too painful. I don’t think I’ve ever been that hurt by my mother before, even if it wasn’t her fault she didn’t hear me. I was hurt because she fell in love with a man I think I truly hate, that she could have done this to me. I completely lost my innocence. I’ve lost myself, my self-consciousness. I turned, walked up the stairs, quietly shut the door as to not wake my mother, went into the bathroom, crawled upon the counter, and cried into a towel for about half an hour. Home used to be where I wasn’t alone, where I could relax and put my guard down. But now I feel useless and lonely not only in school, but at home.

My mouth is wired shut in this house. I can’t scream, I can’t disagree, I can’t be myself, I can’t I can’t I can’t. Every day I do something wrong, every day I say something wrong. I’m the absolute lowest person in my household. Even my drunk-driving, car-stealing, law-breaking, money-sucking, irresponsible stepbrother is higher than me. I’m starting to hate him, too. Just for being spoiled. No ridiculous rules that are applied to me are applied to him. He can sit on the leather couch and eat with my stepfather, while I sit alone in the kitchen, or if I’m lucky and we’re watching a movie, I can sit on the floor. I feel like I’m a pathetic beggar, crawling on my hands and knees under the King’s table, looking for scraps of food he’s dropped or tossed aside.

I hate complaining. I’m so good at it, though. I feel like people are reading this and going “she doesn’t know what she’s talking about” or “I’ve had it much worse, she’s just being melodramatic.” Maybe you have had worse? Maybe I don’t know what I’m talking about, maybe I am quite melodramatic. Maybe these are all rants and rambles I’ve blown out of proportion. Maybe I’m saying this for attention. Maybe I really am hurt and lonely. Maybe I’m suicidal. Maybe, maybe, maybe. There’s too many things you don’t know to make assumptions.

I hate crying… it’s messy and gives you a nasty headache. I used to hardly cry at all, but it seems to be a daily thing now.

You know what? I like the Scarlet Letter. And my favorite character is Dimmesdale. Because I can relate to a lot of his emotions and guilt. I can relate to his loneliness, his forbade of love. He’s my favorite, I don’t care whether or not Mrs. Churchill hates him or not. I don’t like perfect people anyways, I like people with lots of faults. At least he’s the most human of all the characters.

i choke on the lyrics.

Satellite comes and goes
We give each other all we know
The silence, we still talk;
By the light of the stereo waltz
When will you rain down

I don’t breathe another lover.

Flicker on the TV screen
Everything’s more than it seems
The mighty backward fall
Stare at the lights on the wall
And I swear to this:
She felt like velvet.

I’m an alien, you’re an alien,

it’s a beautiful rain

beautiful rain

Is this why everyone hates their teenaged years? Is it all like this? Is it always like this? I hate only living this life. I hate being restricted to only one body and soul. I want to be someone else, somewhere else. There’s nothing for me here. I’m wasting away my life, wasting a part of my life I know is important. I don’t have any responsibilities yet… no bills, taxes, job, yadda yadda. I know I’ll hate myself for taking it for granted, but I just don’t care. I want responsibilities, I want to prove to myself and my stepfather and my teachers that I can be a good person. I feel like everyone only sees the bad in me. It surprises me when someone compliments me, I’m not used to that.

I’m seriously reconsidering going to the private Interlochen school in Michigan. I want to leave this all behind, all these memories all behind, all this pain all behind. I want to be the coward and run. I’d sacrifice that. I don’t feel needed here, and I don’t feel like I’d be missed. I’d just be a hole that my friends wouldn’t pick up on until it’s too late. I’m not sure if I even have friends. I’d be happy, away from my stepfather, and away from all the rules that have been nailed and hammered into my back.

Maybe I will.


---Kira
12:02 a.m. on Thursday, December 5, 2002

Relax, Baby, Now We Are Alone

I went to Jessica's b-day party yesterday! I just back :D We watched House on Haunted Hill and Carrie. >:3 And had pizza and very yummy ice cream cake and tons of other terribly fatty foods ^.^ Whoo, and I love playing Grand Theft Auto 3! I love running from the police :D And stealin the best cars I see.. and doing the Insane Stunts :DDD And let us not forget the thing that never gets old: running over tourists! Bwahahahahhahaha! As you can tell, I had a great time.

Until my sister picked me up this morning -_-;

Tania: So, how's you and your boyfriend?
Me: *Chokes on doughnut* WOT?
T: Mom told me you had a little boyfriend.. c'mon, you're getting to the age where you can date! I've been waiting for this.
M: >.>;;; I do not have a 'little boyfriend'. Geez... what, do you wake up and think "I wonder if Ashley is going to get a boyfriend today?"
T: Hmph. But wasn't that a date? That guy you went to the movies with?
M: He's not my boyfriend! And it wasn't a date!
T: hehe, Yes it was.
M: Whatever. *turns away, in order to hide furiously blushing face*
T: So what's that around your neck? Is that a.. compass? o_o
M: o.o... yes. Tommy let me borrow it. I put it on my necklace so I wouldn't loose it.
T: *Smiles*
M: Oh, shove it.


Yes, what an experience. What she didn't know, is that I slashed her tires with my house key when I got out ^.^

I'm really into this song. o_o; "Do Ya Think I'm Sexy" by Revolting Cocks. It's a cover, and oh my lord, I love it. Bwahaha. I'm really getting into Radiohead, Sugarcult, 'n' old Nirvana songs of late. Ho hum ho hum.

I'm thinking about doing a guest strip filler thing for arcana. But knowing me, I doubt I'll actually do it O.o;

There ya go Chip, Tannah, Quincy, and everyone who commented on my lack of blogging interest o_o;


---Kira
11:26 a.m. on Saturday, November 23, 2002

You're so much like me. I'm sorry.

Everybody knows
It hurts to grow up
And everybody does
It's so weird to be back here

Let me tell you what
The years go on and
We're still fighting it, we're still fighting it
And you're so much like me


I'm sorry.


I'm almost positive I'll regret everything I say here in the morning. But it's policy to not delete entries, so here I am laughing at my future self who'll be mad at current me for writing this cursed thing.

I've recently discovered that many people, online and off, read this blog. I'm not sure whether or not this is good, bad, or maybe both. But I think it's to my advantage. Why talk to people directly, when you can just blab about your feelings in a blog? hoho, it's the cowardice code.

I feel like I have to set some things right. I stopped caring who read this blog.. so don't get mad at me because I say something. Most likely, I'm just shooting off my mouth. Why? ...Cos this is my blog. And I have the keyboard. and the password. hohohohoho.

To those who seem fixated on the idea it's a no-brainer that Quincy and I will someday date and ... ... ... ... have children... why do you say that?! Arugh, it's not only morally wrong, but just plain.. ...uncomfortable. I will not be bearing Mr. Wofford's children, simply because that will never happen.

Let me break it down for you optimistic types. This isn't a movie. So please stop thinking up sappy endings. It's frusterating when you try to have a serious talk about something while some laydeh is squealing over everything. -_-;; Geez, I'm just a bitter mini-Tanner.

Yes, for all who ask if I love him, of course I do. But I think our ideas of love are clashing. To me, love isn't always hearts and naked babies with bows and arrows. Or roses. And sometimes, not even romance. I love the person he is, his personality. I don't think he'll ever realize how much he changed me, or my life, and I'm not even sure if he needs to know. Does it matter?

But there are times I feel this... weird urgent feeling he needs a hug. One of those hugs where you just hold each other a minute. Maybe sigh. But I can't, of course. That's not my job, hmm? People say it's so easy, it's just a hug, but it's not when you really care. When you care a lot, things get confusing and complicated.

(crap, I put too many ice cubes in my beef instant ramen noodles ! >_< it's too cold to eaatt...)

Ahem. yes. Because I love him in many ways, there's not way in hellium I will ever want him to break up with his lovely Missus. Christ, people, he loves her! Not me, HER! It's called... loyalty? Faithfullness? He's happy with her, what more could I want for him? Have you seen the way he grins when he talks about her? It's pretty cute. What if you were her, hmmm? Would you want girls plotting on ways to git yer boi when he's single? This isn't a teenybopper movie, it's my friggen life. Friends are more valuable to me than some type of.. ... thing. I don't even know what to call it, and I don't care, because there's hardly a molecule chance of it ever happening. Sorry to crush your... dreams?... about our little white wedding.(the whole idea still makes me cackle. can you imagine Q-diddy in a tux? XDD with his semi-mullet pulled back >:3~ hu hu)

Just like the song says, "It hurts to grow up" ..how true. I'm trying to grow up, get over things, try to be a friend. Lets leave it at that, instead of making up outrageous stories? It's not helping.

Ahh, yes. I feel so much better now. e.e;;

And it's almost 2 a.m. Cripes, why am I eating ramen?! O.o What am I doing?? Aruugghh there's no online! I'm FREEZING, I'm shivering, and I'm slowly losing my.. mind... .... .... X.x

*Starts running around singing Led Zeppelin songs, wearing Mikey's black long-sleeved shirt*


---Kira, the... grouchy person Aa-kun's currently mad at ^^;;
01:12 a.m. on Saturday, November 2, 2002

>:3~~! fruits basket!

Which Fruits Basket Character are you?

o_o yuki's hawt. heh, so is my #2 match...


Which Fruits Basket Character are you?

kyou sounds more like Aa-kun than me o_o;; ^^;; Aa-kun's a doll. but he's damned scary when mad O.O
01:43 p.m. on Tuesday, October 29, 2002

Help Me I Have No Soul to Sell, Dance of the 99 Red Balloons.

Shit, it’s late. Morning late. I guess, technically, it’s so late it’s early. And because of that, I’m going to talk to myself in such a manner, you begin to think I’m talking about someone in particular. Maybe I am. Maybe it’s a manifestation of several people combined into one being, my ultimate Splendor. Or maybe not. hu hu hu hu hu. >:3~~


I listened to your heartbeat through my cheek.. pressed against your chest, in heaven… I wanted, if anything, to be there forever. As comforting as it was, it still hurt when I realized I never would. Dreams are only dreams. Are you my dream? Or am I?


You depress me. I love you more than I should, more than is accepted, more than I feel necessary. Sometimes I don’t want to love. I don’t want a happy ending. I want to wallow in my shallow puddle of comforting sorrow. I like it there.

What is it? Am I easy or something? Any time you’re around me, you’re the only thing on my mind. It makes me so guilty. Why, I can’t really say. Your smile is so sweet I wish I had duct tape to cover your goddamn mouth. Har-umph.

I guess I don’t like feeling owned. By a feeling or a person… except one person, and only one person. He’ll be the only person that can call me his. I don’t want anyone else, but everyone else is all I have left. Can I hold on long enough? Will this last forever?

“It’s not like you’ll ever see him. It won’t last, it never does.”

… … …

You cried…

I can’t believe you cried.

I’m so far away, but I feel so terrible for it.

I want to hold you, and kiss your forehead, and tell you that the sky isn’t falling. Maybe it is? But I can’t allow you to see that in your state.

Maybe all I want is someone to hold and kiss. Platonically, mind you. Love isn’t for me… not now. I want a friend. A TRUE friend. The ones that last, never fade.

LAST.

Is that all you want, too? A friend? You say you don’t need them, but I know your heart aches for it. Why do you push it away… push me away. Maybe you’ll never know, and I’ll never tell you, that when you close your heart to the world, I want you for myself. I guess we’re both possessive. I hate it when your heart aches, because then mine does too.

Because I’m a coward.

It’s undeniable. Inevitable. This is me, stripped away from lies: I’m a scared, lonely coward. I feel so dead… sometimes I think I really am. A simulation of what I would have been. Should have been. Was too afraid to be.

I’m so selfish. I want you all to myself… but I don’t think I could ever love you. Maybe I just want to use you, and trash you when I’m bored? But could I even do that? No matter what I feel or say, I’ll always admire you. It’s pathetic.

I’ve realized I’m just a big walking [oxy]moron. My feelings and thoughts clash. Am I lying to myself? Have I sunk so deep into the world I created, that I forgot what my lies were? Every day the rope gets tighter. Every day the fire grows brighter.

All I want is someone to hold. Love. Be near. Anyone.

What has become of me, Father… am I still the same… where will I go when I die? When will I fall in love? When will I be able to honestly say I’m happy? Why do I lie… to myself mostly, if not my ego. Why did I stop caring? About myself?

I’d give the world to have someone to care about, because I’ve only had me for so long.

Maybe I loathe myself. Isn’t that a sin? Am I an unforgivable sinner? In the eyes of an angel, does my heart look black? Is my guardian angel disappointed in me? Is He?

I don’t think I can cry anymore. Not while the sun shines.

I stopped caring about myself. Even something as simple as a seatbelt. If I died in a car wreck, it’d be a relief for me. Is that suicide? Is it not suicide until you think about it? Am I just insane?

Would anyone cry…

Would the angels weep?…

The only person I really need is you, Mikey. It’s so sad. It’s so heartbreaking. It makes me sick… I feel weak when I think about you. A bad weak. I love you so much, I just don’t feel worthy. I don’t feel able to love you as much as you deserve. And yet… my doubts surround me… betrayal surfaces, my past unfolds again. I don’t want to hear it… I don’t want to be targeted. I thought I loved before, and it was all… for kicks. I want to trust you, and I think I really do, but will you ever forgive me if I don’t? Can’t? …Don’t want to?

It hurts… every time I see the moon. My heart gets heavy, and I wonder if you love me. I want to fall to me knees and just cry. And cry, until I just don’t have it in me anymore. I want to cry out my emotions.. become lifeless. A drone. Do this. Succeed. It doesn’t matter anymore what you want.

I feel like I could throw up. I disgust myself that much.

Sometimes I hate art. Just hate it. Loathe it. I never, ever, ever want to draw again. People laugh when I say I don’t like it. Is that funny? It’s frustrating.. especially when I get something right. No matter how good I think something is, or how amazing it is.. the next day, it disgusts me. I want to rip everything I’ve ever drawn to shreds, but I’m too afraid to. I think if I could just obliterate the best thing I’ve ever drawn… I’d be cured. Of this ridiculousness. This attitude, these feelings, everything. This loneliness, hatred, emptiness. I rattle when you shake me. (That’s my brittle little heart in there.) And now I need caffeine.

“Am I drowning? Am I fading away? Just another breath, not a minute left, I feel there’s something missing. I need to stop resisting.”

… is there anyone like me out there? …


---Kira

(written at
5:23 a.m. on Thursday, October 24th, 2002)
10:39 p.m. on Friday, October 25, 2002

A Tragic Sexually Unfulfilled Youth's Weekend From Hell (fan service!)

(I did this, like, a few weeks ago o_o; I've had many odd dreams lately. Fergot I wrote it for my blog, tho... My bad. Nyehahaha!)

His hair smelled like shampoo, a sandy blonde color. I tied a leather string necklace around his neck, taking a moment to smile and run a finger up the back, watching him jump a little. Laughing, talking, kissing. I could feel myself lost in his clear blue eyes; I never saw his face, but I felt his smile. Two persons fused, the one I wanted him to be and the one I wanted to touch. Two people I know all too well, two people I can’t have. It was agonizing all over again to feel his heartbeat through my cheek, and to know I never will.

We made our way to his small yet reasonable bed, if not a bit awkwardly; I stammered.

“I…I’m a… I’ve never…”

He smiled. He laid down on his back in the middle of the bed, if not a tad seductively. He had an obvious smirk.

“I want to show you a trick-- Ashley! Get up!”

I jolted awake. Aww, F--

My mother swatted my leg, and sat down on my computer chair. What a bitch.. and it was getting good, too. I felt like cursing. Instead, I just grumbled and groaned, then face-planted into my pillow.

Saturday, September 28th, 2002, approximately 8:25 AM.

As much as I dearly love art, cartooning, and my lovely teacher Mr. Stasi, I do not dearly love early morning classes. And while I’m thankful to be in these classes at KCAI, I can’t wait until I can sleep in twice a week. (Not counting my accidental falling-back-to-sleep-and-nearly-missing-the-fruggin-bus days, which happen more often than I’d like) We were running late; we had to run by my grandmother’s house on the way to get some fans of ours she used. (Something was leaking in her basement… I thought it was kinda funny to use fans for a flooded basement, but whatever works.) I think I accidentally “rested my eyes” a bit too long, because I remember jolting awake to a knock on my wall.

“Ash, time to go.”

Oops.

I scrambled out of bed (it’s amazing how much energy you have in the morning when you’re late) and threw on the first clothing items I touched. (I have the fashion sense and/or hygiene of a 12-year-old boy lately) I stepped into my silver-striped, worn down Adidas shoes, which are conveniently laced especially for slackers like me, hassle-free yet stylish and individual. You know me. …But hassle-free nonetheless.

I grabbed my art bag, complete with everything required every Saturday class, and glanced the mirror.

Hair: Messy. Bedhead. Perfect! I really love this roll-outta-bed-and-go style. I can literally get out of bed and look like I’ve been styling my hair all morning.

Clothes: Crappy. A The Nace Brothers t-shirt, red flannel shirt, jeans, and a comfy rain jacket. It wasn’t really raining.. but it’s big and comfy and I like it. Who knows? It’s good to be prepared. Might I add it was a bit chilly? I noticed because I forgot my windows were open.

I hopped down the stairs, and swung the bag over my shoulder. I passed my mom making iced tea, and opened the garage door. I grabbed a Diet Coke from the pack, and jumped into the already running car. My mother and stepfather followed, and stepped into the car as well. My mother glanced back at me in the car and gave me a look.

“You should have taken a shower.” I rolled my eyes. Taken a shower? Who has time for showers in the morning? In-between the getting up and the dressing. Whoever takes a shower in the morning is either NOT human, or just… weird.

We started to pull out of the driveway, put my stepfather suddenly stopped.

“Where’s the car?”

….Oh shit.

That was a very good question. Where was the car? It belonged to my stepbrother, whom had been living with us for a while. He was caught drunk driving twice, and therefore got his license taken away. But he’s a good guy.. it seemed more or less that he hung out with the wrong kind of people. The kind of people that think turning 18 and getting out of highschool means that you should get as drunk as you can. He couldn’t drive to work, therefore losing his job, hence his living with us. It’s actually kind of annoying.. I usually get on the computer after school to unwind, but sometimes he’s on. Yes, I’m possessive. But she’s my computer! I’m the only one that treats her right and decorates her with Gravitation wallpapers, Yami no Matsuei desktop icons, and various screen savers, one consisting of Vampire Hunter D: Bloodlust! Mine I tell you!!

But there wasn’t a car, and that was bad. Jim got out the car, and stomped into the house. My mother and I worried in silence. Af