Cloud

pt. 2 - Can you imagine a girl afraid of love at all? Nobody has trust for me so why should I trust the damn man that says he wants commitment. I can’t imagine marrying then divorcing. It would be such a stab in the back if any boy capable of loving took back every word he swore to me standing on the aisle. I cannot imagine the pain, therefore I will not. Promise is a powerful word, and I do doesn’t mean you will, it means you are. I believe every gift has a thought behind it. A husband buying a beautiful diamond necklace for his loving wife is filled with unbelievable thoughts, images of how the light will cause it to sparkle off her eyes, magical motion pictures of how her face will brighten up when she sees the gorgeous neck ware, and how she doesn’t yet understand how much more it is then a symbol of love, but togetherness. Commitment. I tremble as I write that wretched word. Don’t ask; listen. Learn. If confusion is a pet peeve of yours then I suggest you stop reading. I guess this is not much of something made for entertaining, but to put down the thoughts I’ve always wanted heard with letters. Though my knowledge may seem completely meaningless to you I can always try to inform what might help. As I did say once before, confusion is what I am, what I’ve come to know. Pay attention.

pt. 3 - Question. Why does everyone look at a lazy day as nothing gotten done? I’ve sauntered threw plenty of lazy days with the world at my feet. A lazy day is not just lying around or using technology that man has come to know so well. Boredom is not just miserable minds with nothing to do. A lazy day is experimenting, learning, trying keeping and more then anything, flying. Boredom is imagination at its best. Computers were not just put here like they were trees, supplying us oxygen. Some genius Konrad Zuse had to get us all started by thinking a little bit, and even I had a hard time agreeing with myself that thinking is using my imagination. Yes, I went over imagination is imaginings, but you don’t think without imagining. Whether your imagining what tomorrow will look like or what the show on TV was like yesterday. At least to me, it hooks together. Hooks. Fishing hooks. Ages ago, I went to my Mimi and Papaw’s white beach house. It was right next to the beach, walking distance. The house was on stilts and I always would say to myself that they were there for when the tide would come all the way up, and it was safe from crashing. You had to step up wide wooden stairs to reach the white front door. Downstairs was a cement ground with picnic tables and a door leading to “The Shell Room”. My Mimi absolutely loved putting a theme for any room, decorating it accordingly. This one was American Flag colors, red white and blue, and where there wasn’t red white or blue; there were elegant seashells she found herself strolling on the beach, hundreds of them. I remember adoring every shell the nights I would stay there, jumping up and down when I was allowed to contribute myself.

pt. 4 - I remember putting mini breakfast sausages on a fish hook and trying to cast the line out off of an old dark wooden bridge into a manmade river. The only other memory I have left of that place is when my cousins and me would roller-skate around the picnic tables downstairs next to The Shell Room. I always thought it was so sweet when my cousin would call me dynamite. It doesn’t feel like it was much longer ago that my Dad told me they sold the house on stilts with wide wooden stairs and a cement floor downstairs with picnic tables and The Shell Room, but it was long enough ago that I can’t remember the reason why. But I don’t look at it as a loss because I didn’t loose anything that was mine. I gained more love for the beach, exploration, and the desire to explore. I grew closer with my Mimi and I probably would barely know my Papaw now without those yearly visits to the beach. Now that I think about it, this was a small detail that hit me big. Sitting here listening to my voices tell me evil things I think about all the times I’ve tried to change people. How much of a hypocrite can I possible get? I absolutely despise questions but I ask myself so many as it is. I’m not aloud to say I hate myself but like I said, they don’t have my mind. Pay attention. I never want to attempt to manipulate a person again. Now I’m about changing myself. (by soxrgauzey / awesome hun!!)

In My Glass: Message the sweetest kid how loves wreched triped in its trap when it had spoken the softest touch i long for touch gained a new craving because u had taken my word my haunting melody a recipe a remody saw how my curiosity turned into love foolish love i used to look into the mirror and dispised what i could see now i look inside the mirror and see you beaming back at me i lean in close and whisper this i need you so you'll never miss me i lean in closer and kiss the glass then sparks will fly you kissed me back kiss the glass my schitzophrinic *bad spelling* mind is cured the bloody words replaced with you singing words instead of thoughts all i see is kitty hearts paragraphs of my misfortune images of bodies torching fix my posesd mind im screaming singing searching looking learning i used to look into the mirror and dispised what i could see now i look inside the mirror and see you beaming back at me i lean in close and whisper this i need you so you'll never miss me i lean in closer and kiss the glass then sparks will fly you kissed me back in my glass (by soxrgauzey, thx so much dear)