&&;HOSTESS LOVE


Frozen-WingsNETwork

&&;iT'S ALL ABOUT...


Nicole. Nicoley. Nica. Aly. July 18. An erratically random 16-year-old Filipina. One of the most contradicting people you'll ever come by. Down to earth, yet still gets stuck in the clouds. What you see here is not even a fraction of the puzzle that is me.

Loves   family, friends, Saiyuki, music, the phone, photography, laughter, my iPod, instant messaging, Band, Orchestra, food, the outdoors, water, lame insiders, Phireans / Koripinos (insider), etc.

Cannot Stand allergies, liars, immaturity to the extreme, anxiety, homework, early wake up calls, sleepless nights, stress, fish, spiders, ghost-related movies, wayward imagination, etc.

  MSN: kab00m@live.com
 E-mail: ShexSaidWHAT
 Last.fm: Arysin

&&;BROWSE


&rarr   Journal; PPF [decode]
&rarr   iPod; Addictions
&rarr   Random 101; Revealed
&rarr   Anime; Watched & ♥
&rarr   Archives; Dry Ink

&&;CALENDAR


November 2008

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&&;THE LOVED


♥   Kimmi; Button
♥   Midorichi; Midorichi
♥   Azreen; Confines

&&;CREDiTS


Layout Nicole
Smilies Celestial Star
Textures Color Filter


× Introduction

From Yours Truly. I can't be certain that these thoughts are logical, rational, or even to be sympathized with, but even if the words I pour out onto my entries don't match up with those adjectives, it doesn't matter. They contain emotions stemmed from my life, and this is my place to express myself. The End.



× Tuesday - November 18

Slaving Over: AP History homework.
Humming To: Fall For You; Secondhand Serenade
Mood: tired

My poem that I had to write for AP Lang. & Composition, based on "The Man I Killed" from Tim O'Brien's novel The Things They Carried. It had to have a minimum of 15 lines, and I have no hand for poetry... so... Haha.

Cradled in death, faces unknown,
Blood-rich colors speak; he has to atone.
He stitches up their corpses
With the thread of fake lives,
Hoping to plump them up;
Maybe then his sanity will survive.

Desperately, uncertainly, he clings to that hope
Even as the memories never wane—
Tattooed as they are from all those years ago.
His guilt is coddled by memories twenty years fresh
Disgusting, horrid,
As he recalls those faceless soldiers and their rotting flesh.

Over and over again the memories play,
Never fading, never faltering
When looping those flaming hot days.
Because he has to, he trudges on,
A silent soldier
Bearing the crosses of his victims in Vietnam.

The story of her life at 12:16 a.m. -- Rwind.



× Tuesday - August 12

Slaving Over: Nothing.
Humming To: Pieces; Red
Thinking: ...
Mood: morose

There are days where it feels as if you're riding on natural high, and then there are the ones that are just there-- simple dates on the calendar to fill up space. It seems like those days come a lot more often lately, but they don't really seem to matter whenever my mom or someone I know comes back into my life depressed, angry, or irritated. I've tried to be resilient and shake it off because, well, those aren't feelings I want clinging to my subconscious, but it's like I turn into some kind of sponge and soak them up instead.

I know my parents don't mean it, but when they walk into the house and see something that doesn't seem right to them, they automatically start yelling at me because of the mess or shit like that. It's so stupid because they don't notice what I did do. Maybe it's because it's that time of month or something, but wow. There always has to be something that can be fussed over.

Again, I know I don't have the worst life in the world (a fine example is close to home with some of my friends), but it's most certainly not the greatest, it seems. Little things about my family just... irks me. Most of the time we don't even come together to do anything anymore, and when we do go out, it's stressful instead of enjoyable.

I think, really, all I want is for my parents to start seeing me again-- not my room, not what I eat and don't eat, not what I do and don't do. Just me. It's not supposed to be that fucking hard.

And just as I finish typing in the period, mother dearest starts blowing up about the stain on her brand new sofa.

The story of her life at 6:17 p.m. -- Rwind.