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Page name: //.1801-1900.// [Logged in view] [RSS]
2008-05-10 17:00:44
Last author: i'i
Owner: i'i
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D20: 14
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//.1801-1900.//



.Messages //.1801-1900.//.




Dear God,
1801. You are my dream.
1802. You are amazing. Thank you so much for everything i have in my life.
1803. How could someone be so heartless and not care about their son? I don't see how they can live with themselves. Please help him, and show him what he is missing.
1804. She listens to his message, and it makes her feel stupid on one level, but on another, she can't help it.
1805. how on earth could you let them do that to me? It really hurt, espescially after Declan.
1806. He helped me out when life was too hard. Now he's calling me with thoughts of Suicide. It tears me apart to see him this way. I have never seen him without a smile until two months ago. It scares me so much to have him think this way. Please, Please, don't let him fall apart.
1807. The nights I spend with him, lieing behind me, keeping me warm. Or the nights where I can hear his heart beat against my ear...I love those night, God. And Last night was perfect...thank you. I'm in love with him, and I wouldn't change it, ever.
1808. I said I'd help him, please let this work.
1809. Please take care of Hootchie Bear better than I did....
1810. On the one hand, she is unhappy. Sick inside, the butterflies always in her stomach. It makes her grumpy and indignant. And blushing! How dare she blush. It makes her seeth with unhappiness. She hasn't blushed like that since the third grade. And it wasn't even for anythin worth while. Just a look, without any words. An implication and her face with enflamed. But on the other hand, she feels stripped clean. Someone who doesn't know her problems and doesn't expect her to talk about them. Like a puppy, all wiggly and young and excited to be taught new things. Half the time, she has half the mind to tell, but then things would change. She doesn't want them to. No deeper. It's dangerous as it is.
1811. Oh help me. I don't know how I feel about anything anymore. I don't want to be there anymore, I hate my school, i cant get on with friends or family, I dislike myself immensly and i put myself in situations where i could easily be hurt emotionally and physically. What did I do? What on earth have I done? I just want to be happy I asked for that about 16 months ago, and 16 months later, i'm still asking.
1812. Alright God. This is my last ditch effort, asking you. I'm even going to overlook the irony of her falling for a guy because he doesn't care about her problems. Please. Help me figure out how to change myself to suit her. Make me perfect for her. Make me do the right things and say the right things. Make me make her comfortable. I don't care who I have to become just help me become him! Please! Please! I will do whatever it takes! Anything. I don't care. Just please show me how to get her back! Please! I used to make her blush too! I used to make her feel like that! I used to make her want to be with me! Tell me what happened! Tell me who I need to be!
1813. This is ridiculous....he better not be up to what I know he's up to...
1814. Disease plauges her. It's stronger than ever before, not the fear that a missaid word will make friendship awkward for a time, because they are not even friends. She curses herself, and rues her mistakes, promising to learn from them and become perfect, but not knowing how to be anything better than herself, and not thinking that herself will be good enough.
1815. I want to be able to sit right in front of him and look into his eyes and tell him straight out "I want you. I want you to myself. I love you. I love you too much to share." And then i want him to understand...for once in his life...because I feel almost perfect right now...I don't want to hurt anymore...
1816. She hates him suddenly. For disrupting her life. For flirting back. She hates him for being just like everyone else, for giving in, for maybe wanting her. The frustration builds and turns in her head, and she hates every one of them, but most of all him. Tears sting at her eyes. Angry. And hurt.
1817. She shivers and shakes and loathes her body. "I thought you said you were good." She accuses. You were supposed to be good. I don't want you to be bad...
1818. Frustrated...
1819. Am I acting the right way?
1820. He knows he looks ridiculous. He can't hit the notes. He misses some words and leaves out others. But none of that matters to him. With the moon setting on one side of his car, and the sun rising on the other, he sings at the top of his lungs.
1821. We seek saviors because we are too stupid to save ourselves.
1822. When things start to look too good to be true...I can't help but wonder what game he's playing at...
1823. Passed around and dirty. Every time I think it can't get any worse, something else comes up.
1824. Why am I used for something dirty? I want to be with someone, not be their sex toy.
1825. And he prays for something quick. Something that he can't come back from. A car crash with a semi. A gunshot for the ages. Powder residue on his ear lobe. Pools of red against deep brown carpet. He prays for something that he can't come back from.
1826. Cold fingers on her back and she's already screaming inside her head.
1827. I'm tired of comming home to tears.
1828. Please God. Make him realize that he is surrounded by people who love him. Please don't let him hurt himself anymore. Make his life better. Please.
1829. How can a world full of people be so lonely?
1830. He remembers early mornings in the park. He remembers late nights on the phone. He remembers her smiling at him by the swing set. He remembers a writhing crawdad and sprinting ducks. He remembers her reading to him on the floor of her room. He remembers her sobs as she cried on the park bench. He remembers talk of thunder and stories of lighting. He remembers motivational speeches and quiet hushes. And he tries so hard to forget these past few months.
1831. He has nightmares.
1832. She doesn't want to give him anything, because once the words start, the actions, the allowance, begins, she has no idea where it will stop. So there is nothing, no anger, no joy, no sadness, and no hope.
1833. He's past being angry with her. No, he's not angry. Now it's just confusion. Broken. Why does it happen like this? Why did it happen? What is it that he needs to change to keep from being hurt like this again? He just wishes she would tell him, once and for all, what he did to overshadow what they once had.
1834. Okay, speeding, was stupid. And now i got Sadie and her mate after me, i'm screwed. Not to mention I'm so messed in the head with feelings that I'm not sure of, stress from my exams and coursework. There is so little time to do so much. I want a break from it all. Or just a relief would be wonderful, I need help. Please. And as helpful as Tamara and Smithy and his mate are.. please let them know I don't wanna have them coming round, my parents are going funny about it now. Ly x
1835. It's been a rocky road. Once upon a time I had my ups and downs, my good and bad. And then...all of a sudden, my world crashed down and destroyed everything I had worked so hard for. I took my life's new chaotic outlook and morphed it into a lifestyle. Self-destructive, self centered, no one else matters; my way of life. After all this muck, after all this ridiculous mess could you not give me one little thing? 37 days, I got him back. 12 more and I was all his. We're all we have, each other. Don't make me go away again, don't let it happen. He needs me more than anyone else and...I don't know how to breath without him there by my side showing me how.
1836. She doesn't know what's going on, and she doesn't want to ask. She just goes through her days, clinging to anything she can dig her nails into, and trying to get by.
1837. When he walks in the door the steak knife is still lying discarded on the counter top. A pool of dried red-brown liquid traces a path from the counter to the floor. It's hard for him to look away. So he stares for a while. He looks around the kitchen trying to find every spot. Taking note of the smear on the fridge, opposite the knife. Taking note of the smell. He sighs and pulls absently on his finger. His arm still hurts.
1838. If ever there were a time where I wanted to take my own life...it's now. There's no point in being here. I have nothing worth staying for. All I have is him, and even then...he's proven he can do just fine without me. Why should I stay? For my faith in this useless fictional figure I'm told I'm supposed to believe in? For the useless underground torture hall I'm supposed to be scared of? I have nothing here anymore. I can't sleep, I don't want to eat, I hate everyone around me, I hate myself and every little detail there is to me. I know I won't, I'm too scared of what I might miss...but oh God do I ever want to. I can't stay here much longer...I can't be in this house, this school, this group of friends, this town. I can't do it anymore...I want to give up but I'm too stubborn to do so...dieing would allow them to think they've won and I do not believe that that is right in any way shape or form. I don't know what to do anymore. My life's become meaningless. I'm going to amount to nothing and bring Andrew down with me...this is my life...this is what I have left...a giant hole in my gut that tells me something is missing, but no one'll ever be able to tell me what it is...
1839. And he misses her. Much more than he ever would have thought possible. He strolls slowly through the Botanical Gardens in Dallas. They have a Japanese Garden. He can't go in it. He's afraid that if he did, he'd break down right in the middle of some crowd of people. He doesn't like crowds. They stare at him, judge him, call him names quietly. A breath of conspiracy. And if you ask him, he'll swear all of this is true. That he can hear the names, and can catch everyone around himself glaring back at him. He walks with his head down and his hands in his pockets.
1840. She just doesn't know what to say to him anymore.
1841. Whatever will she do with his sinless hands?
1842. I saw things through your eyes today, it was amazing and I don't know how to explain it but...Life's good now.
...Kind of.
1843. And his self destruction kicks into overdrive. He lets himself be taken by the sin of it all. He sees no reason to continue his life as he had been. He gazes at the scar on his wrist and laughs quietly to himself. He wonders if the girl in bed next to him will ever realize that she means nothing. That to him, she's just another. That she can never be a Rachel Mace. As he types she sits up and wraps her arms around him, oblivious to his life, and his experiences. He falls back, letting his life spiral further into decontrol.
1844. please...?
1845. Maybe it's the drugs. Maybe it's the mass amoutns of chemicals I'm feeding my brain that's doing this to me. It's creating a sense of doubt in my gut; Am I losing him? Is this going to be the end? Paranoia at it's best. How much longer can I wait this out? Maybe if I keep it up...I'll get rid of myself before he gets rid of me.
1846. I can never catch a break. If he's not fucking her while I'm not looking, he's dating her while he's still dating me. If he's not doing that he's having her at his house without my approval (because really...he needs my consent otherwise...this could turn out badly for everyone.) I'm just looking for a period of time where I can breath freely without fear...but I guess that's alot to ask for these days...
1847. Where is home?
1848. Uuuuugh. When will this ridiculousness end. Fuck...stop being such a fucking drama queen. I can't even be me without being yelled at for it, fuck.
1849. He's a beautiful drunk.
1850. I don't understand. The lad that told me to have an abortion, the lad who killed my baby.. why do I miss him so damn much? Why do I feel like I can't get over him? Is it because of the amount of trust i put into the relationship we had, and even carrying his baby.. I want my baby back. I want him back too.
1851. She still ambles through his mind, wispily. The ghost of something good.
1852. Maybe next time he gets angry I'll be that phone and wall and door and stool he smashed....
1853. I just can't help it, it feels too good.
1854. "There was nothing between you and Rachel." I...coming from her best friend? Is it true...? Did it really not mean anything...? All that time? Why is it suddenly all my fault? Do they not understand that I want to let go? don't like crying like this.
1855. I. Hate. Drugs.
1856. They stress about all the little things...
1857. I love you :)
1858. Stealing from my parents?! That's what I have to do to keep my limbs now?! Oh boy...
1859. *laughs* Twenty minutes. Twenty minutes before something triggered a tear.
1860. Dear God, what he wouldn't do for another trip to the Serenity Room. Another picture of her, against that backdrop of trees and city. Where everything seems beautiful, even himself.
1861. Hint me, whisper it to me, FLAT OUT TELL ME what it is I'm supposed to do. Is this going to turn into one of those heart wrenching, tear jerking games where I have to either destroy and rebuild myself emotionally or do something similar to him? I'm not ready to play this game...
1862. I'm happy :) thankyouuu
1863. She wants to cry, but the tears don't want to come out...
1864. Snap. Crack. Break. Fcuk...
1865. "I love you." is what I want to want to say but all I can come up with these days is "Oh my god...I hate you so much." and I bet it hurts me more than it hurts him.
1865. Normal. Yes. Everything is going normally. He's convincing her that everything is fine. She loves him without understanding that he doesn't care. He's destroying the relationship from the inside out, trying to find the best ways to hurt her so that she never sees it coming. So that he hurts himself as much as possible in the process. Yes, everything is going normally with her. All he really wants is to go back. To get a second chance. To do things the right way. The way he knew they should have been done.
1866. God, i don't know why i'm crying right now. my life is going so well. but i feel empty. i need your love back in my life. i know it's never left but i just think i've been focused on so many other things and on selfish things that don't matter that i've fogotten to actually take the time to appriciate the love you have for me and return it. All this talk about love is making me realize that my life isn't as full of it as it should be. it was at one point in my life. when i was close to you. i just need to feel that love again. i need you lord. i need you.
1867. *sighs* God, does everyone have to fall in love with me or something?
1868. It's just a picture. It's just a picture. It's just a..., he tells himself. Over. And over. And over. He says it quickly. He says it quietly. He says it through tears and muffled screams. He says it through wide eyes and eyes wide shut...it's just a picture...it's just a picture...it's just a picture...
1869. Had a complete mental breakdown in the break-room at work, aptly named. Mom happened to call in the middle of it...so I finally told her everything that's happened. We talked about her for a long time.
1870. Does she...watch him swinging in the park at three in the morning and smile so bright that he can see it through the black? Does she...run her hands through his hair while he's driving, just because she doesn't like to see him get worked up? Does she...take him out to do things he's never thought about doing before, just because it's fun? Did she...choose, this time, to go for the kiss, instead of leaving everything unsaid? Does she...love him? Will she...hate me?
1871. Doing all the wrong things for all the wrong reasons - I just like the look of him so helpless.
1872. A week and a half...it's just a week and a half...
1873. And what if I feel obligated to tell you yes...?
1874. I love you. SO much.
1875. She makes up her mind to give it all up.
1876, Look away.
1877. "Do you want?" she asks, wanting nothing more than want, needing little else but need. "Of course." He replies, boy he is, boy he acts. "Will you take?" whispered sweetly, guile gone, vanished from her cherry lips. "Never, ever," whispered back, quickly, softly stung. "Never, ever," echoes she, adrift in hollow promises.
1878. "Because even if it breaks your heart to be 'just friends', if you really care about someone...you'll take the hit."
1879. Her sweet little Novocane boyfriend....
1880. It's not the pleading in her head which bothers her so much, though it went on like a mantra, all child-like and pitifully weak. It's the malicious little voice, hissing over and over "Give as good as you get, little bitch." The one spurring her into action. The one which changed fear to self-loathing to distance. Even as she realizes she wants nothing more to run away, and feels like she's choking on the tears building up in her throat, she can't stop, and can't make him.
1881. He smashed the phone in rage, screaming. He turned to her and back handed her as hard as possible "I FUCKING HATE YOU!" he screamed. When he came back to room and she was holding her face, crying a little, he said he was sorry...and being the idiot she is...she forgave him....
1882. She thinks about this method of 'choice' and laughs until she cries.
1883.OH MY GOD I HATE HER.
1884. I miss you baby...
1885. I saw a girl yesterday. Saw her from a bit away, across a store. She was looking at something and laughing to her friend. I made up my mind to go introduce myself to this girl, maybe ask what she was doing this weekend. So I muster up the courage and walk over to this girl and her friend. Lightly tapping the girl on the shoulder, I tried on my best grin and prepared myself. I wasn't near enough prepared for her. The girl turned around...and looked so much like her that I froze. I froze, my mouth wide open, staring, I'm sure as creepily as I could unwittingly manage, into her eyes. I remember the way her look changed to concern when a tear fell down my cheek as I stood there, frozen. "Are you okay?" she asked. Suddenly I remembered where I was. I quickly apologized and walked out of the store.
1886. All the men I've met this year have been wonderful and treat me like a goddess. And I love you for it. And I still think my ex could kick your ass in every way possible....
1887. When I receive and anonymous comment on my journal, my heart skips beats, and I want it to be him SO BADLY. But it's not. It's you. I'm not going to lie. It is a huge disappointment. What I would give for it to be him and not you.
1888. He is the ONLY person I have ever met that makes me feel light headed, and my legs turn into jelly, and my stomach melt .I've never had such an intense physical response to anyone in my life. It is almost better than an orgasm...And it's been over a year since we last spoke. And it's been more than two since I've touched him.
1889. I can give you spiritual 'psychic' readings if you want. I just want to practice in a friendly and supportive environment. So if any body is interested, please contact me!
1890. He yelled at me again, this time it was different, I was scared...I was really scared. Ever since that saturday, ever since that one time, the one human being I can stand to be around is the one human being who's ever laid a hand on me and has terrified me. What do I do?
1891. last Febuary was the last time we were together. it took me forever to let you go, than i was okay. but now, i'm not. i'm scared and i want someone to be with me and i just want you to maybe be there if you want to be. i love you, and i always will.
1892. You disgust me you stupid, ugly, cunt. You really think you're good enough...even better than... is all I can tell myself, everytime I cry...
1893. I'm 17 and I want a baby so I can fix my world....
1894. No! You don't understand! I've been with girls that I've had to "forget about", and girls that I've had to "just let go", and girls with whom I've had to realize that "there's plenty of fish in the sea." This is not one of those. This feels completely different. This feels...more important. It feels like a loss on a different scale. This is not something I can "just move on" from. This is one of those things that you have to fight for. One of those things that aren't just handed to you. I will not fade! I will stop thinking about myself, and I will not fade away from her.
1895. Why do I set myself up...?
1896. Why do I set myself up...?
1897. "When is enough, enough, Matthew? She's not yours anymore. You know it, and she knows it. She's just using you now, like she always was. Whether she knows it or not. She's not coming back to you. Jesus...you're just going to hurt yourself again..."
1898. Her body is a mess of fallout chills, but she thinks she is alright.
1899. Right now, everything I want is wrong.
1900. Right now, I wish I could follow you....


//.1901-2000.//





[<3]//.1-100.//[<3]//.101-200.// [<3]//.201-300.//[<3]//.301-400.//[<3]//.401-500.//.[<3]//.501-600.//.[<3]//.601-700.// [<3]//.701-800.//[<3]//.801-900.//[<3]//.901-1000.//[<3]//.1001-1100.//[<3][<3]//.1101-1200.//[<3]//.1201-1300.//[<3]//.1301-1400.//[<3]//.1401-1500.//[<3]//.1501-1600.//[<3]//.1601-1700.////.1701-1800.//[<3]


.My Messages To God.

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