Don’t allow your wounds to turn you into a person you are not.

People don't leave because things are hard, they leave because it is no longer worth it.

don't you just hate it when someone breaks your heart, and they don't even know it.

♥

ditto man. ditto.

did you know (ding!), some of the runners had prosthetic balls hanging inside those golden panties. now that is special effects.

my logic goes; she said blog, this is a blog.

juno + harry reference. 'nough said.

i think ellen looks gorgeous here :)

I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else but you

it's been brought to my attention that this blog has adopted a slight glass-is-half-empty tone lately,

so im here to rectify this little issue by some juno spamming.

But we prefer to pretend it does not exist.

this fight isnt supposed to be so hard,
this harsh, relentless battle
for breath, for freedom,
for happiness, for an improvement of our present.

for some ambiguous greater purpose
we get bruised, we get beaten,
we ache, we bleed.
it baits us, letting our hopes soar through a glimpse of illusive triumph,
only to be shot back down by a glass ceiling barrier.

at most times temptation to end it overcomes us,
the sweetness of escape, a relief from pain,
so easy, numbing.
we pause, on the brink of falling into naive insouciance,
but our gut tugs our feet back, our bodies falling into cushions of tribulation once more.

do we simply never learn from our mistakes,
or perhaps just inside every one of us is a little fcker of a masochist?

--------------

its 3am, sleeplessness makes me sad and slightly unhinged.

'Cause we're all guilty of the same things
We think the thoughts, whether or not we see them through
And I know that I have been forgiven
And I just hope you can forgive me too

So don't you dare blame me
For prying open the door
That's unleashed the bitterness
That's here in the midst of this
Sometimes we live for no one but ourselves

And what we've been striving for
Has turned into nothing more
Than bodies, limp on the floor
Victims of falling short
We kiss goodbye, the cheek of our true love

And you can't see past the blood on my hands
To see that you've been aptly damned to fail and fail again.

i can stare at the sun all day longgg...

through my camera lens.

i'm sorry to disappoint,

but i am not, nor will i ever endeavor to be, or may be by chance transformed into becoming, extraordinary.

contrarily, i selfishly utterly desire to only be happily ordinary.

and in that case, i am not sorry for who i am, or what i want to be.

so please, don't get your hopes up, and do slaughter all your expectations. unless you enjoy having your heart drop in dissatisfaction and rising feelings of regret, discontent and slight resentment (or whole resentment, im not certain of your degree of letdown, but it may be relative to how high former expectations were).

my apologies, if i have unintentionally misled you.

2 0 1 0

so here I was, hoping to make this huge broadcast to announce 2010 is hereeeeeeee

...and the largest size i can put it in is that. well, mr blogspot, this is not a satisfying start to my new year.

neither is this mushroom fringe I decided to get on boxing day: