| California. |
[08 Dec 2004|01:18am] |
Why does everyone sing of Californa? It's not even a place anymore. It's evolved into a cliche for broken hearts and shattered dreams. California, home of hazey skies and endless pavement. Home of the movie stars, the has-beens, and the never-will-bes. Home of the hopefulls, the pitifuls, the foolish.
"Hello, my name is California."
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| The Love Story Of Angel And Doll. |
[15 Nov 2004|07:05am] |
No one could have possibley guess that he would be the one to do it. Angel was a punk rocker. He wanted change. He wanted reform. No one thought he wanted this. By 1:37pm most of the school had evacuated. Angel stood at the front of the classroom, bright red liquid dotted the front of his shirt. The red clung to every strand of hair, to every fiber in his clothing. And it sank in and stained him. The lifeless forms of his teacher and two other classmates lay at his feet. Their light was gone. Their very souls were gone. They were cold as ice. Not that he would know, for he couldn't take the time to touch them. Angel had to focus all of his attention on the matter at hand.
Doll thought of herself at Angel's friend. She had stayed by his side when he was lonely, and she often felt the boney embrace of his arms around her. She admired him and secretly adored him. She knew he had no time for school girl crushes, though she couldn't quite explain how she knew, for the subject was never brought up, and she would have never had the courage to ask. She just always had the feeling that things wouldn't last that long.
The pain in her side took a moment to register. Her life was crawling out of her, down her leg, and onto the floor. Her eyes grew wide as she fell to her knees. This wasn't the Angel she knew. She searched his face with all the strength she had remaining in her until she saw it. That glimmer of red - that flash of evil flickering in his eyes.
One by one her classmates fell. Their screams had become quite muted in her head by now. She didn't even feel the pain in her gut anymore, or the sticky redness that now formed a large puddle beneath her. Her eyes remained on Angel, only Angel.
Finally as the last body hit the floor, the red that glazed his eyes vanished and Angel began to sob.
"Oh God..." Angel's voice was unlike Doll had ever heard it before. It was forced and scratched. It lacked its usual confidence and carisma. It was afraid, "Oh God...Doll...I've killed you..." The tears spilled from his eyes uncontrolabley. At this point Angel knew he didn't have to pretend to be brave anymore, "I didn't...I didn't want to hit you, Doll...Not you...I didn't see...I couldn't see..."
Doll smiled gentley and the boy she so worshiped and did her best to drag herself to his feet. He kneeled down and sobbed into her shoulder. The calm and sense of comfort that suddenly came over couldn't be explained in words. Perhaps it was because she knew that Angel loved her, or perhaps because she knew what she had to do.
"Angel," Doll began, "You don't have to be afraid. You're not alone..."
Angel began to protest between choking on tears but his words were stopped by Doll's lips. She kissed Angel with everything she had in her, with ever ounce of life she had remaining, and Angel kissed her back with the same force. Doll took the gun from Angel's hands and scanned it with her hazey eyes.
"Angel," Doll started again, "You won't be alone...in hell."
She pressed her lips once more to the boy she loved, and took his life with a shot to the head.
"I love you, Angel...my Angel..." And Doll shut her eyes for the last time in Angel's arms.
[To be edited later]
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| Her Name... |
[08 Nov 2004|06:20am] |
Her name was Blue, and she never really understood. She lived in her own little world, and always kept her eyes shut. She was always feeling sorry for herself and never felt that anyone ever really cared about her. No one could get past the thick force field she put up around herself. Everyone else lied, everyone else hated, everyone else cheated. No one would ever love her, because she was flawed, and everyone could tell. Her heart was made of glass and it lay shattered in ugly pieces on the floor in front of her. But Blue was the type of girl who just stared at the broken shards and wouldn't let anyone else touch them, and try to help her put them back together. She had to do it herself. If only she knew how.
Her name was Red, and she hated everyone, especially herself. Everyone was foolish and selfish. That's what society was built on. Self. Was she the only one who cared? Was she the only one that wanted change? And if so, did that make her in the wrong? Was she the only sane one, or the only blind one? It infuriated her, either way. Why, why, why. That's all she ever got out of anything, and it never got her anywhere. She'd think about it until her head ached and her eyes watered, but it only led her in giant circles. Red knew she'd never be anything, or anyone, because no one cared about anything but themselves. Red's heart was made of fire, pure and passionate, but it burnt anyone who touched it. No one could touch it. In fact, no one could get near it. Red would probably never find anyone who could hold onto it long enough without giving up on her.
Her name was Violet, and she thought she was some kind of savior. If anyone came into her life with a problem, she wanted to be the one that helped. If someone was lonely, she wanted to be their embracing arms. If someone was poor, she wanted to help get them on their feet. If someone was cold, she wanted to warm their hearts. What she failed to see is that you can't save everyone. Not everyone wants to be saved. Violet wanted so badly to just make everyone happy, but that's just not how the world works. She truly believed she could make everyone happy, one by one, step by step, but the truth of the matter is, she couldn't. Ever. In fact, she probably couldn't even make one person completely happy. And this was a thought that crossed her mind once in a while, and it saddened her, so she quickly shook it out of her head. Violet's heart was made of shiny white gold. It was bright and valuable and resilient. However, to most people who looked at it, it was just silver. Boring, blunt, common. Violet was just another girl with another foolish vision that would never be. And her heart would tarnish, just like everyone elses.
Her name was Jillian, and she was human. That's all she would ever be. She wouldn't be special, or important, or grand. She would just be herself. That's all she could be. Whether this was enough or not, she had yet to figure out. Her heart was made of flesh and blood. Easily crushed, but it served its purpose. It kept her alive.
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| Thank You, Stranger. |
[08 Nov 2004|06:17am] |
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Why do some people enter our lives? They cross our paths, make their mark, and then leave, as if they never even existed. But we know they did exist. And we know they will never be forgotten. In fact, it is these people who often leave some of the biggest impacts in our lives, opening our eyes just a little bit wider, and warping the filter with which we view the entire world around us. Every moment after that person has been in our lives, is seen a just little bit differently then the moments before. It changes the rest of our very existance, dispite the fact that most of us don't even notice anything is different.
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