still?it doesnt make sense, i love you but i'm scared to tell you, i can't be myself around you or your friends, i can't open up to you yet i still love you why?...because your amazing your stubburn and fight over everything, but still i fucking love you, you imperfect in so many ways but i never see those imperfections, until my friends tell me im an idiot an idiot for loving you and wanting a man i cant be myself around, on second thought i think im an idiot too but i still love you.still?
letting goyour built long white arms wrap around me and my mind begs for me to whisper...please dont let go...please dont ever let go...but my mouth stays shut and i wonder why the words didn't release, mayb because i'm too scared to tell you how i really feel, because i'm unsure of what really happened between us and why we keep getting farther apart...like your letting go and your arms are realeasing me from your once tight graspletting go
guitarthree guitars are sitting right in front of me, one acoustic-electric, one acoustic, one electric, one of them was my father's old guitar, one was my sister's from when she was my age, and one i got for christmas last year. i saw the box and knew exactly what lurked inside, the wrapping didn't diguise it at all, i love it and i play it all the time...but then it reminds me of how i always wish i was better at playing guitar, or better in general, yet i always stay the same average player, and so does my life...i love everything about guitars, from the six strings of beautiful music, to the people that play, because they tend to be deep meaninguitar
dont really knowim laying here with this damn pencil and paper in my hands, still trying to figure out why i can't translate my fucking thoughts into reasonable words, im always writing about dreams, love, and guys but somehow they all end fucked whether thats what really happened in my life or not, why can't i write without having thoughts streaming through my head and tears slowly rolling down my face, maybe its because my happy life is practically a lie its just a mask over my wet face and its here that i remove the colorful, mardi gra worthy mask and reveal my soaking wet facedont really know
we were just too latewe were just too late
when your eyelashes begin to meet your cheeks, and the only thing you can see is the flashing twinkle of distant stars, your going to remember me. remember the way my eyes flitted left and right when someone was too close. the way my breathing (and my heart) hitched at the sight of you, the curve of my hip beneath your hand.
and when your bed sheets rustle across the bottoms of your legs, your going to dream about me. your going to dream of the way i liked to stand in the middle of the street as a car raced my way. your going to think of the way i didn't move until the very last second. the way i found love hidden i
We'll fall together.how wonderful it must have been for them to see us crash and burn this world was always against us after allWe'll fall together.
AddictionsEveryone has an addiction of some sort. Drugs, alcohol, food, chaos, sex, and so on. If it's not the bad, it's the good. Exercise, vegetables, peace, helping, learning, blah, blah, blah. For me, my addiction is pain, sadness, and solitude.Addictions
It doesn't seem like it though, am I right? I am always with someone talking, if not surrounded, I'm almost always smiling and laughing, and I yell when it comes to getting hurt.
Have you ever thought that it's a mask? The other, false me? That I don't want people to know about that me as I slowly dig my own grave? That I don't want you to worry about me?
A Simple Notebook EntryIt is dark. My pages are empty.A Simple Notebook Entry
My notebook has been sitting in my bottom drawer, invisible and untouched, for thirteen months. Now, in my dark confined space, these blank pages have become my closest friend. I have waited with them for two hours and twenty one minutes with seemed like an eternity, and I still have four hours and thirty nine minutes left. I cannot sit and sleep with one eye open any longer.
I must write.
These words come straight from my cloudy mind to the first page of of my unwritten saga. The only light in the dark prison is coming from the map above me. It shows me where I was, wher
hmm,im tala, im a sophmore in high school, im not an amazing writer but i do it anyways, i think my favorite writer is named jailyn!!!! and she is also one of my best friends, i luv jus laying around and listening to music, i run and play soccer,  |
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Be bold, be bold, but not too bold,
Lest your heart's blood run cold.
~
Crack Couples are the sex. If anyone wants to do any for me...
~
If you have attempted Alchemy by clapping your hands or drawing an array, paste this to your signature.
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"love never dies a natural death. it dies because we dont know how to replenish its source. it dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. its dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of withering, of tarnishing"
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"love never dies a natural death. it dies because we dont know how to replenish its source. it dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. its dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of withering, of tarnishing"
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"If it's childish to believe in this, so be it. I'd rather be considered a child than follow a doctrine of cynicism, chaos—apathy. I thought I didn't care, Dad, that I didn't need to believe in things. But I was wrong." - Edward Elric
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"love never dies a natural death. it dies because we dont know how to replenish its source. it dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. its dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of withering, of tarnishing"
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we think that certain things, thoughts, or actions make us who we are, and sometimes we become addicted to those thoughts or behaviors and before we know it... weve become too afraid to let them go
--
"love never dies a natural death. it dies because we dont know how to replenish its source. it dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. its dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of withering, of tarnishing"
dude!
i didnt even notice it was you until i saw your picture
tala curry is my lover!!!!!!
hahahaha
your crazy girl.
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we think that certain things, thoughts, or actions make us who we are, and sometimes we become addicted to those thoughts or behaviors and before we know it... weve become too afraid to let them go
--
"love never dies a natural death. it dies because we dont know how to replenish its source. it dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. its dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of withering, of tarnishing"
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