x Smeared x Eyeliner x

xsmearedxeyelinerx@hotmail.co.uk — Mon, 16 Oct 2006 09:05:52 GMT

Hiii.

New journal.

This one may still be checked but meh.

I'm basically switching, because I hate this username/layout/blah.

Certain people I like to stalk will be auto-added. But if there's someone I'm not sure wants me, you gotta request 'n' shit o_O It's not personal, because I adore everyone on my FL, it's just an excuse to get rid of me if you want to xD

x_palimpsest

xsmearedxeyelinerx@hotmail.co.uk — Sun, 15 Oct 2006 19:57:13 GMT

'You're confident with not a lot to be confident about.'

Isn't that the loveliest thing to say to your manic depressive daughter?

Congrats, daddy.

xsmearedxeyelinerx@hotmail.co.uk — Wed, 04 Oct 2006 19:27:33 GMT

Can't do it. Can'tdoitcan'tdoit. I should have gone to school. GCSEs are killing me and I haven't even started yet. My mum chucked me offline today mid-multiple-conversations. She said I can't go on anymore. That I have to make sacrifices to get A*s. I don't want fucking A*s. I want to pass. That's all I want. SHE wants A*s so she can rub them in the face of everyone who ever doubted her for deciding to teach us at home. She wants the golden marks so she can sit back and think 'ah.. 15 years haven't been wasted..'

Well.. I can't do it. I'm doing my damn exams in 2008 and I'm already cracking. Every day, every minute, it's always about GCSEs. Always about education. And I can't do it. It's a complete overload. And I have to sacrifice.. basically.. my life. It's pathetic. But the net is a huge part of my world. Writing and talking to people and falling in love and making friends and making plans and roleplaying and she's going to turn the computer around.. so she can see the screen from her chair.

Goodbye sneaky fanfiction and hysterical laughter and various pornographic pictures...

Goodbye roleplay...

Goodbye sanity.

No, seriously. I lost it.

Sam: *swashbuckling and mildly idiotic bravery*
Greg: *over-intelligent and sarky remark*
Sam: .. .. *swashbuckling and mildly idiotic bravery* Ah! Here are our master's enemies!
Greg:..yes.. our MASTER'S... >.>
Sam: WE SHALL CHAWP THEM OOP.
Greg:.. pansy.
Sam: They shall force me to move!
Greg: If you move you're a whimp.
Sam: .. I shall move to chop off their heads!
Greg: Oooh, brave -.-

Sam: My master's just as good as yours.
Abraham: No better.
Greg: *sidewhisper*.. better.
Sam: MY MASTER'S BETTER THAN YOURS.
Abr: LIES. LIESSSS.
Sam: FIGHT MEH, BEECH. IF YOU GOT DA GUTS.

Men: .. *fight*

Ben: PACK IT UP, YOU IDIOTS *beatbeatbeatbeat*

Tyb: Wtfff?!
Ben: .. I iz breakin' it up, innit >.>
Tyb: Pfft. Screw dat. I hate dee and yo bredwin. BRING IT. *fightfightfight*

Villagers: OOH. FIIIGHT. *drool*
Man: BARRBARAAA. GET OUT ME FIGHTIN' CLUB!
Citizens: WELL WE HATE DEW BOTH, THO *fightfightfightfight*

... *fightfightfightfight*

Cappy: YO. What's with da noise? Gimme me sword, lil woman!
Mrs Cappy: .. o_O Whhhhhy?
Cappy: My sword. MY SWORD I SAID. THAT OLD SOD IS GONNA SHOW ME UP.

Monny: Don't hold me back! I'm gonna get 'im! I'MMA GET 'IM.
Lady Monny: .. don't you dare *glaring*

Prince: .. listen, maties.. you screwed up my town. I'm not happy. Everyone's fighting because you two are dipsticks. If you do it again.. *draws finger over throat* Capiche? NOW SHOO.

Citizens: .. *shuffleoff*

Monny: Who started dis crap up again? What did you see, oh-holy-nephew-of-too-many-words?

Ben: .. *explains.. in too many words* I TOLD TY-TY TO STOP IT BUT HE DIDN'T AND THEN HE HIT ME BUT HE STARTED IT AND THEN EVERYONE ELSE JOINT IN AND DEN ... den da prince fixed it..

Lady Monny: .. *yawn* Oh, where's Romeo? Seen him 'bout? Glad he didn't get mixed up in all this.. *..may have a favourite*

Ben: Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd
sun
Peer'd forth the golden window of the east,
A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad;
Where, underneath the grove of sycamore
That westward rooteth from the city's side,
So early walking did I see your son:
Towards him I made; but he was ware of me,
And stole into the covert of the wood:
I, measuring his affections by my own,
That most are busied when they're most alone,
Pursu'd my humour not pursuing his,
And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me.

Lady monny: .. o_O
Ben: .. I saw him this morning. He was emo.
Monny: Eh, he goes out, he cries, he comes in, he cries.. my son's a pansy.
Ben: .. whhyyy?
Mon: Pfft. Search me.
Ben: Did you piss him off? o_O
Mon:..*mumbling, incoherant, idiotic excuse of pretentiousness*
Ben: Eh, I'll found out. As long as you keep your nose out of it.
Mon: .. 'cmon dear.

Romeo: *shuffles in*
Ben: OIT! MORNIN' CUS!
Romeo:.. it's still morning.. crap...
Ben: Just hit 9, innit.
Romeo: Aye! Woe! Alas is me! This depression makes everything lengthy *swoon* Was that daddy who just tottered off?
Ben: Yeaaah. What's making your days so long, bruva-froma-nuva-muva?
Romeo: Not having that thang that makes 'em short..
Ben: Booty?
Romeo: Out --
Ben: .. booty?
Romeo: I'm in the doghouse..
Ben:.. HAHAH. Oh.. well.. Boohoo for you. Crappy, innit?
Romeo: Alas! that love, whose view is muffled
still,
Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will.
Where shall we dine? O me! What fray was
here?
Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all.
Here's much to do with hate, but more with
love:
Why then, O brawling love! O loving hate!
O any thing! of nothing first create.
O heavy lightness i serious vanity!
Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms!
Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick
health!
Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is!
This love feel I, that feel no love in this.
Dost thou not laugh?
Ben: No, coz.. I'm gonna cry, innit.
Romeo: Why tho?
Ben: coz that was beautiful, innit.
Romeo: Yeah. Sucks.. toodles!
Ben: Like don't leave me! It'll be mean o.o;;
Romeo: .. *shiftyeyes*.. but.. I'm not even Romeo.. .. *cough*
Ben: *rolls eyes* Whose booty is you chasin'?
Romeo: Oh like I'm gonna tell you. I can't.. like.. whine at you!
Ben:..*hysterics* No. Just tell me.
Romeo: I love a chick.
Ben: No wayzzz O_O I guessed that!
Romeo: Good on ya. She's hot, too.
Ben: Yeahhhh. I am da bombbb *dances* She's hot, she'll wantcha.
Romeo: She's like a nun tho >.>
Ben: Izit? O_O
Romeo: Yeah! That hot stuff is wasted on nundom.
Ben: Awh mon. Forget 'bout it.
Romeo: How?!
Ben: Get you some other hawt bods!
Romeo: Nu. She is teh hawtzorz. So sca-rew you!
Ben:..whateverrrrr.

xsmearedxeyelinerx@hotmail.co.uk — Tue, 26 Sep 2006 16:01:10 GMT

So.. I'm shit at updating lately. That has been gathered. I tend to be shying away from Livejournal lately.. actually, I'm shying away from the internet in general. It's a gradual process. Something so slow and sneaky that I hardly realised it until just now.

In a sadistic sort of way I welcome it. Nowadays it brings me a great deal of stress. It's lots its zing, yanno? But everything has. I'm failing to see the happy in life. Not that I'm depressed - far from it. On holiday I had a rather intriguing mental breakdown, but it sorted out a lot of things in my family. It made me appreciate my dad and my sister so much more. Me and my mum learned that we're dangerously alike. There's a certain understanding in my life right now, and it's a beautiful thing. She found out I harm, but I can live with that. After the shame I felt last time I don't think I can possibly build up the guts to do it again.

Strange that, isn't it? I need courage to perform the weakest of acts.

A lot of things regarding my education got straightened out on that infamous trip. I'm doing more work than I have in a very long time - which isn't saying anything, really.

From 10am to 4:30pm I'm working my guts out for this work. It's not even relevent. In no way is it going to contribute to my final exam. But it's just to please the psycho-Scot known as my education inspector.

And Jesus on a buttered bagel I hope she doesn't see this..

Even through all this work, I'm hardly anywhere near satisfied. And even when I have a good day like yesterday (completed a project, cooked dinner, actually managed to make myself look reasonably un-shit) I always follow up with a day like today. Where I've done nothing but print off prompts, read fanfiction and sit in my PJs all day.

Ah well. Beggars can't be choosers.

I just don't know what to do anymore. I'm so scared for my friends but I know my words are useless. I feel totally, completely useless. But I'm wondering if that's just me... if I can be the girl people have a laugh with, who they can talk to for hours.. but just.. provide nothing. Really. I'm no use.

And I think I've finally accepted that.

So.. I bring you.. a tiny rec list which I demand you all look through.

Mind blowing Brian/Matt fic. I have a favourite author over at a7x_slashness, and randomly hunting through Fandomination, I found this only to realise an hour later she wrote it. Which is just spanky. Because that's my favourite pairing evuuuhhh but no one writes it -.- GIVE THE MUSCLE MEN SOME LOVE TOO DAMNIT. All the Zacky/Brian is making me want to shoot myself. I'm gradually growing to hate Zacky because of it. Save meee. .. and don't kill me, Cat >< But yeah. Good fic. It'll totally make you go 'WTF?' O_O

You're going to stop believing me when I say 'there's not much Matt/Brian around' when I keep posting these.. but I have hunted high and low! Through the fangirlfic! Through the dread Snacky! And I have found this little chunk of glee which works on so many levels. Inspirational, creative, beautiful, stunning, hilarious, tear-jerking, sexy as fuck.. just sheer god damn brilliance. Love it, bitch -.-

..then..Snarry. Because I is cool like that, yo. Best HP pairing around aside from Padmoon. Which goes without saying, because Padmoon is just.. guh.. Ahem. Anyway. Fucking great fic. Intelligent, hilarious, the most canon slash I've read in a good while. Supremely hot. Supremely squealworthy. It has some good twist and it's written in a style that will catch you immediately.

On another note... I gotta start writing myself. Seriously. Before I go batty. The lack of roleplay is removing the little writing I actually manage. Today I should be doing some English shit but I can't be bothered. FOR TODAY.. I SHALL ATTEMPT TO BOOST UP THE AMOUNT OF BRIAN/MATT IN THE WORLD... Because I rock like that.

Peace out, mah bredwin.

xsmearedxeyelinerx@hotmail.co.uk — Sat, 09 Sep 2006 21:54:11 GMT

I haven't been very good, huh? :? My commenting / replying has definitely lacked, while my whinging / over-posting has gone through the roof.

I just want to say.. I read all comments, I read everything on my friends page.. and I adore you all. Even if we don't talk too much, you guys make me smile, you make me cry, you make me feel, which is definitely a big awesome thing right now.

Everyone on my list, and I mean EVERYONE, I love you all. Even if I've never commented you in my life and vice versa, I love you. Because you make me feel like I'm not so alone in this crappy lil world. And yes, I mean, I'm glad I'm surrounded by weirdos =D

Okay. .. ahem. Yeah. I'm in a really weird mood. I want to write warped stories and poetry and scream and dance and voice all this crazy shit going on in my head. It's like I'm stuck in a permanant dream right now. Everything makes no sense yet makes far too much sense for comfort. It's like I'm shaving my face with a straight-razor despite being a chick. Since last time I checked.

There are so many freaky lil things going on.. I feel unorganised. My OCDs kicking in like a bitch and I want to sort things. My typing fingers (because I have a strange form of speed-chicken-pecking. Like chick scratching but not. Why do all forms of communication I use revolve around poulty? I even like to quack to express deep weirdness..)

But yes. I love you. I'm so grateful for you. And I can honestly say I have the coolest people on ElJay on my friends list. I can relate to you all, no matter what our differences. You teach me about different worlds.

SO HUZZAH AND GROUP HUGS.

And organising and writing something warped about something warped...

See, I wanna finish that A7X slash, but it's too sane right now. My mind's going at a hundred miles a minute. I should do something create but weird. GIVE ME WHIMSY... GIVE ME FREAKINESS... Yeah. So. This MCR fic and this VAM fic I read inspired me too much. But it's a terrifying sort of inspiration where I don't know what to do with it.

I need something weird.

So I'll name a random scene then describe it in a weird way.

I'll tell you how that goes.

But yeah, life rocks right now. I feel awesome. And I'm seeing Rae and Zoe tomorrow :O HOWCOOLISTHAT?

Only I'll freeze and be quiet and shy and awkward and we won't talk and they're hate me and I'll run to the circus.

CIRCUS.

-inspired-

♥ - Kay

xsmearedxeyelinerx@hotmail.co.uk — Thu, 07 Sep 2006 15:39:35 GMT

Uh-oh for mental breakdowns.

I hate cutting. Makes me feel alright at the time, but like shit after.

Failureness sucks.

I'm soooo banned from the internet.

But I miss mah bitches.

♥

xsmearedxeyelinerx@hotmail.co.uk — Wed, 06 Sep 2006 16:17:13 GMT

My mumma said I had to go to my nanas.

But I felt I couldn't.

I feel like such a failure, and my grandparents are the only ones who have ever been proud of me.

I want to be something they can be proud of. I don't want them to see me like this.

And my nana called me.

And asked why I wasn't coming.

And I burst into tears.

And she said I could always call her.

And that she loves me and wishes she could see me.

And after she hung up I sat in the middle of my living room and sobbed.

I wish I could be the person they deserve.

Why can't I change myself?

Why does it have to be so difficult?

Why can't I even explain to my mother how I feel?

Why do I go from giggling madly and smiling like a dork one minute and hysterical tears the next?

Why am I even posting this?

I don't want sympathy. I don't want worry. I don't want to be a bother.

I just want..

To be someone deserving of all the beauty I have in my life.

I'm so, so fucking pathetic.

PS: Everyone on my FL must hate me for my rabid updating.

So I ask you a question, oh mightiful and much loved ones.

Think I may be bipolar? :/

xsmearedxeyelinerx@hotmail.co.uk — Wed, 06 Sep 2006 10:30:00 GMT

Bob: ..not looking...not..looking..lalala..

...Bob: ... not looking.. ... .. .. bastards.. .. not looking...

'You can have this back, bitch'

The Patented 'Fuck Me' Look. (The guy in the back aint too impressed, however)

'I love you. Ergo I headbutt your ass ala Horny Goat.'

Caught after the act..

DUH DUH DUH DUH DUHHH.. DUHDUHUHUHH.. DUHHH...FJHHHKKDLFDFD...

TADAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!11111111111111!!!!!OOONNNNNEEEEEEE!

Rofl. Everyone loves a bit of HIM. As Syn in the pink RR shirt (look'a mah profile!) proves.

Shoutweb: Any bands you're looking forward to checking out yourself?

Gerard: HIM. It's after almost everybody's set. Everybody can get wasted. All the bands want to go watch HIM.

GO WAY.

Even though Ville said he'd make a better vampire, the cutesie lil yank holds no grudges.

Edit: JFJGFKGFGF.

I just looked at MCR pictures.

And watched The Black Parade tape.

And listened to Welcome...

How the fuck can anyone dislike this? O___O Someone please explain. Because it baffles me completely.

WAHEY

xsmearedxeyelinerx@hotmail.co.uk — Tue, 05 Sep 2006 19:16:52 GMT

New art journal.

Add it add it add it!

I've put in NEVER SEEN BEFORE (..unless you read a lot of MCR fic in October 2005..) FERARD SLASH.

Awesome, huh? =D

(( OMG CATH N SAM. I was reading through my memories from my old account, haha. You both left me comments. Creepy, huh? Well, not really... o_O ))

xsmearedxeyelinerx@hotmail.co.uk — Mon, 04 Sep 2006 20:34:50 GMT

I'm writing, writing, writing.

Lots of slashy happiness.

Well, it's not slashy yet.

Really, it's gross right now.

But slashy slashy slashy soon!

I miss AIM.

I wanna tell people about the slashy-slashy.

But I'll get distracted =(

My sister found a spider and thought it was Steve Irwin reincarnated.

She's adorable. Sometimes.

My mum's considering moving us to Australia.

And usually, she has little whims like this and that's the last we hear.

But she's researching :O My mum never researches. She's my tutor and I've only seen her research ONCE. We ended up moving to the other side of the city -.-

Not sure how I feel about this just yet...

Christmas on the beach?

Yaaaay.

A7X playing two venues across the whole country?

..naaay..

xsmearedxeyelinerx@hotmail.co.uk — Mon, 04 Sep 2006 07:27:50 GMT

So, I've been all emo and shit despite my attempts to be bright and dandy (the loss of Steve Irwin didn't help.. I actually shed a few tears..God, what must have been going through that mans head after surviving so many times..) BUT. Cath made me hysterical more than once.

Ilu! ♥

So now, instead of black emoness, my head is filled with happy slashy A7X thoughts. God those guys are ridiculously gay. I heart them desperately for it.

I'm gonna write me some smut, then read me some smut! Then probably ar pee some smut and go dream of smut.

You can tell I'm meant to be doing a stupid about of work for my examination, huh? =P

BUT. APPARANTLY. I'M A GENIUS.

Hahahahahaha! Anyone who knows me will know how ridiculous this is and how desperately the BBC have fucked up.

xsmearedxeyelinerx@hotmail.co.uk — Sat, 02 Sep 2006 21:28:25 GMT

YES.

BOOYAH.

TWO FUCKIN ENTRIES WITHIN FIVE MINUTES.

I will not let this idiotic depression get me down. I've been a miserable little bitch for far too long and it's ridiculous. This world rocks, and the people in it rock, and I have a sheerly ridiculous amount to see and do and hear and discuss.

SO YAY FOR LIFE AND ALL ITS TREASURES.

And to the people who I talk to on AIM..

I adore you all and would never intentionally ignore you. Ever. Your words mean the world to me, and even if I'm slow to reply, know that you're always in my thoughts, and I'm always thinking about what to write to you next.

♥;

xsmearedxeyelinerx@hotmail.co.uk — Sat, 02 Sep 2006 21:08:38 GMT

I feel so unbearably lost, and I can't even explain it. It's this desperation deep in my chest. Almost a lack of hope. It's painful and suffocating like pressure on my heart. I'm neglecting IM windows, and as idiotic as it sounds, I feel so awful. Because I love the people I talk to so desperately, and I don't want them to think I'm ignoring them when it's really just the other 10 people I'm talking to I have to post to. It's just... wow. I can't explain it. I'm PMSing so hardcore and my best friend was a bitch and I'm so glad that's over now.. yet I feel so strangely alone. I'm lost and I don't know why.

A briefing of my life.

xsmearedxeyelinerx@hotmail.co.uk — Fri, 01 Sep 2006 19:07:25 GMT

I'm taking a God damn mother fucker of a stand here!

I'm going to tell you all about my life right here.

I've left my church because they're racist, sexist, elitist, prejudice, hypocritical bastards with fairy-tale beliefs. I was a Mormon, by the way. Now I'm researching and definitely heading towards my own form of Spiritualism/Buddhism/Wiccan because I have no faith or belief in organised religion. And.. terrifyingly.. I think I'm losing my faith in Christ.

I hate everyone in my area with a vicious intensity and unless we get a sudden influx in people with brains, oppinions and decent tastes I will be spending the rest of my days on a computer.

My sister has a lump under her eye and may have to have an operation.

Snakes on a Plane makes me ridiculously happy. Like.. seriously ridiculously happy.

Papa Roach - I Wanna Be Loved
Eighteen Visions - Victim
David Cassidy - I Think I Love You
Taking Back Sunday - Twenty Tweny Sugery

are the best songs in my world right now.

Bands - A Change of Image

Throughout the history of the world, image has always been key. In modern times, we are still linked so closely to our ancestors; to the animals and brutes of years gone by.

In scientific terms, the space between neolithic male and 21st century male is shockingly short, and through everything, it shows.

It's terrifying that the only thing that evolves is public fad and a opinion rather than the actual human. That nature always remains. It's just influenced by different things.

Creatures all around attract a mate by looking good. Birds fan their feathers. Only the male peacock is coloured, since it is the man's task to attract.

This seeming sense of chivalry doesn't seem to be apparant too often, however. In the art of attraction sexism is nonexistant.

Through media and peer pressure we are persuaded that finding a mate and reproducing the key goal in life. Everything prepares us and leads us to this. Therefore it is understandable, perhaps, that looks and image are always key.

When a person is self-concious, they lose confidence. Lack of confidence restricts the amount of things a person can do. It's a huge, vital point of life to look good.

In social situations, the unkind nature of a lot of people encourages people to look good to escape general nastiness. In a world where we must all fit in, this is just a part of life we must accept.

But we must not forget that these ideas stretch further. They include sport stars, celebrities, artists and bands.

Public image is everything. In fame you must sell yourself to achieve everything.

Certain stars create a certain image for theirselves and keep it forever. It becomes an integral part of them and their work. Take Marilyn Manson, for example. He created a whole new world, a new industry.

Then you have Madonna - who based her career upon a constantly changing image.

But often, in music, this frustrates me. When an image and sound changes, it often leaves many fans behind.

I was always a lover of My Chemical Romance. I adore their sound, their image, their everything. When news of the new album taking an entirely different direction came about, I admit, I panicked.

'70's disco rock? What the hell? That wasn't my babies! That wasn't the sound I had fallen in love with!

How dare they betray us all by changing so drastically.

But then I realised... art is a personal matter. Whether writing, poetry, music, dancing, acting, painting... it's all about self expression.

And us, as humans, constantly change. We may not be evolving physically, but by hell we are evolving mentally.

Our image will always change with our minds. We are constantly learning and growing. We express what we are currently going through, what we currently love.

These bands don't write for the fans. They don't play what everyone wants to hear. And isn't that what makes us love them? They are creating something personal and beautiful from their hearts. Alternative music seems to be the only industry that has a fragment of soul in it still, and we should encourage this by not panicking at the slightest sign of change.

These talented people are taking therapy and letting us have a little peek in on their world.

This article was brought on due to the change in Papa Roach.

Now, I never knew anything about this band. I heard they were Nu-Metal, and me being the closed minded fool I am, I chose to stay away from this. Despite my Korn fangirling. From videos I had seen and songs I had heard through radio and friends, they seemed to stick to their 'nu-metal' label.

And suddenly, I'm sitting at my computer and a wonderful, wonderful song comes on the TV. Sleeze rock twists in the likening of oldschool The 69 Eyes.

I glanced at the TV, and wow, Eighteen Visions maybe? A new band I have never heard of? Hotties in eyeliner, dressing like Ville Valo with the hair and make-up of American idiot era Billie Joe.

Yet, no, Papa Roach.

I understand that this change in image could, and probably will, hurt many fans. Indeed, if My Chemical Romance started playing nu-metal, my little heart would be broken.

And yet as much as I would dislike it, I would understand it.

Evolution is a part of animals, humans and bands a like. This new species will evolve into something beautiful, something that will attract fans across the land. For just as an image will evolve, people's tastes need to grow with it.

Change can be a terrifying mother-fucker, but it's also the most refreshing thing of all.

Their show was mind shattering even though I missed Rae and Zoe.

I pray to baby Buddha that I can see Cath and Zoe at Lostprophets/From First To Last because I adore them muchos.

My family are being ridiculous with my net time and I'm majorly missing out.

I have been won over by the powers of myspace after losing contact with a group of beloved friends only to find them again over the great paedeophile site.

Rae made me obsessed with Black Dahlia. I've been reading about it all day and now I really must see the movie.

I'm writing too much poetry, starting a journal, reading Oriental literature (Hwee Hwee Tan is a God) and watching too many movies (The Producers is the most hilarious thing ever).

I'm addicted to concerts, Gee saw up my skirt, I'm wearing lacy underwear, I keep eating Pepperami, Russel T Davis is actually a genius, and oh lord JACK WHITE IS THE GUY FROM THE RACONTEURS.

Unless the magazine was being sarcy.

And I'm insane.

My cousin is ridiculously racist. But I still adore him.

Losing the internet for a fortnight was unbearable yet strangely exhilarating and thought provoking.

GJ has more features than Livejournal will ever have for a price called FREE yet all the communities and journals are near dead. It now seems strictly reserved for roleplays. Which I desperately need.

Have a nifty slash roleplay community?

Tell me about it before I throw myself from a roof.

Oh, and I plan to make a music video DVD because MTV2 suck and will never, ever play Seize The Day no matter how many dirty texts I sent them. Any suggestions?

A big mofo of an entry.

xsmearedxeyelinerx@hotmail.co.uk — Wed, 09 Aug 2006 13:25:22 GMT

xshock_x_starx = evil -.-

1: Only You Can Save Me - The 69 Eyes
2: Open Your Eyes - AFI
3: One More Sad Song - All American Rejects
4: Out Ta Get Me - Guns n Roses
5: Oxy Contin - Head Automatica

So, right, I’ve been avoiding my journal, and I can’t be assed to type a fancy ass entry right now, so I’m gonna sum up a load of crazy stuff.

Me and my mum went to see Guns n Roses with special guest Bullet For My Valentine. AKA, my first ever proper rock concert. In the past I’ve seen like.. The Osmonds and Tom Jones, and yeah, that was dandy, but they’re not exactly Axl Rose are they?

After throwing a rather spectacular tantrum when my mother declared I couldn’t wear my corset dress, I happily settled on knee boots, tight jeans, black blouse and a thick lace up corset belt.

Only, when we get there, my mum says I’m leaving the belt in the car.

Even though it was hers when she was my age -.-

::shakes fist::

So, with my stupid-ass blouse blowing about like a gothic Marilyn Monroe we totter off to the arena. Gawd damnit, the stupid stadium’s never going to be built, but the arena’s quite adorable in it’s own ‘AHHH I’M GONNA BE CRUSHED’ kinda way.

I got offered beer, which made me feel old and happy.

But I fucked up.

Me: Hah.. All the heavy metal band shirts.. I should’ve worn a Green Day shirt for irony..
Cute guy: .. -strides passed in band shirt-
Me: …. That was so punk of me.

Yeaaaaah. No one can stuff up as incredibly as Kay.

Bouncing around, being paranoid about the way I look, we eventually drag our cute asses into the arena. Only to sit and wait for forty minutes. Luckily, we had South Park behind us.

South Park © of Kay’s Mommy, were basically dubbed for being as stereotypical as a gay hairdresser in slip-on shoes.

Two boys about my age, and a tall hunk of a guy with a long blonde pony-tail and full length leather jacket. Seriously, gothic-mastuh. Thick boots and spiiikes.

This guys were dicktards, but they amused us endlessly. We never actually spoke to them, but we sat in front of them and giggled to ourselves at their sheer appalling-ness..

A highlight was them asking Mr. Leathuhhh if he was a queer.

And then having lengthy Warcraft discussions.

Oh, be still my heart…

So, forty minutes of giggle snorting and toilet breaks later, someone comes on stage ‘WAHEY!’ we all say ‘GIMME SOME BULLET LOVE!’

Only, it’s not Bullet Love is it? It’s Skid Row.

If you don’t know about Skid Row, all I can say is, you’re very, very lucky. While the North got Towers of London as the surprise act, we got past-it-eighties-cock-rockers. Now normally I like my hair metal, but I don’t like this prick. You see, my mommy raised me on the good, wholesome tunes of Bon Jovi. And this vocalist ( Sebastian Bach ) fucked Jon over! I can’t be assed to go into details.. Ask me if you’re curious, I guess.

.. He’s not that mildly-hot-and-Aaron-Gillespie-looky-likey now.

…okay, maybe I lie. He appeals to my Jyrki-69-loving-cock-rocker-in-leather-side.

Now, one thing I can say for Mr. Bach, is he isn’t a one trick pony. Ohhhhhhh no. He’s a three trick pony.

He can swear, scream at random intervals, and swing his mic above his head incessantly while headbanging.

Now you may say... These are all the sparkling qualities of a rock God! But no. This man just as the aura of being a dick. The songs all merged into one agonising blob, the druggies in front of us were fangirling and saying away, phone and E in hand, add to that the damn right weird placing of guitar solos and the fact I was impatient… I wasn’t amused.

My face looked like this -.- for the entire show.

Then their bass amp goes. You’d think.. With forty minutes of fuckin’ around backstage doing Ozzy-knows-what… they could have had their equipment checked.

But noooooo.

Then he got political.

And I’m all for politics.. I’m all for calling Blair and poodle.. But assholes like that give anti-Bush/Blair’s a bad name!

Yeah. I understand my own petty prejudices are clouding my judgement right now.. But I reaaaaaally don’t care. I’m starving and pissy.

So then they toddle off, and I happily listen to the next installment of South Park © (‘Now.. I’ve never heard Guns n Roses.. Are they good?’ & ’It’s cold in here! We pa -- your mum paid good money for these seats!’ ) while watching the chick in front strip and pop pills like a bitch.

Then finally, finally, a scream goes up.. And the Bullet banner is lifted. Which is a relief, because my mother said with the time Sebastian-fuckin-I-can-swing-my-mic-and-swear-annnnnnnnd-talk-shit-Bach took babbling like a parrot on the crack we were seeing disappear on the front row, they might not come on. And truthfully, I’d been looking forward to seeing them quite a lot.

I ~~burnt~~* bought their CD and everything =(

Then something strange happens.. Emos start magically appearing.. Crawling out from their dark, blood stained corners.. Clad in converse, Vans, Bullet hoodies and too many bracelets… fringes concealing their bloodshot, black teared eyes..

‘MY GOD,’ I think, ‘ARE THESE PEOPLE GOING TO HEADBANG TO THE WONDER THAT IS GUNS?’

I forget about the thought, because Bullet come on. Now, after the arrogant American as swipe (AAA) known fondly as Do-It-From-The-Bach, the humble, Welsh, metal hotties are like a sheep shag after a hard day in the coal mines.

I sit in my seat, swinging my head in an awesome banner, generally revelling in the wonder that is these screeching tunes (Tears Don’t Fall sounds colossal in a stadium-like enviroment).

Then it’s all over, far too quickly, much like the best sex (AAA was more like.. Messy, long, slow, drawn out, anti-climax-ness… not that I was expecting much.. Only to have him cum on the best sheets. Or something.. O_O… Bullet were hard, quick, fast and dirty in an alleyway, leaving you with whiplash and covered in sweat… yeah.. I worry about me too) we waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Mexican waved a few times - it started to guy and this bald guy flicked off the opposite side of the stadium and yelled at them for killing it.

Drunk metal heads = good times.. Good times…

So, after discovering Mr. Leather was seeing Lordi on Halloween and the emos had magically vanished, we waited some more.

After about 40 minutes, people started booing.

And yet, as soon as the opening chords of Welcome To The Jungle kicked in.. suddenly.. The whole room loved Axl.

I was on my feet.

I was rocking.

I was head banging so hard it was almost sexual.

Ohhhhhhhh yeah.

The man can SING. It’s hard to document this experience.. It was a lot of screaming, a lot of adrenaline, a lot of dancing.. A lot of being frustrated at the whole venue singing so loud that Axl was drowned out (even though I was quite happily screaming away - I can now say I’ve sung Sweet Child O’ Mine/November Rain/etc with THE Axl Rose) too many intervals, too many solos.. Even though the pianist was incredible, and one of the guitarists looked like a short n skinny Synyster Gates through my rose tinted specs.

Plus, two guys, no matter how old, playing guitar with each other… mhmmm.. Hot..

…. Even if it is Xtina’s Beautiful…

So, shrieking my heart out, Paradise City goes on.. And I go hysterical. I go beyond hysterical. That’s the closest to spazzing I have ever come. In fact, I think I may have cried a little.

I’m not even looking at the stage/screen I’m rocking out so hard, then my mum taps me on the shoulder and shrieks ‘IS THAT HAWKINS?!’ so of course I snap my gaze upwards, see a pudge and a lot of hair, and go…. Well… I can’t even remember. That was how insane I went. I actually blocked it out.

JUSTIN HAWKINS SINGING PARADISE CITY WITH AXL ROSE?!

SPONTANIOUS ORGASSSSSSSSSSM!

Only.. It’s not, is it?

It’s AAA.

So.

That was..

Mhm.

After a lot of pyrotechnics, explosions, fireworks, solos, screaming, shrieking, head banging, squealing, singing, adrenaline and orgasms.. My mum drags me away to realism.

It’s a strange experience to be rocking out so completely, then to be stumbling along Wembley high street, all wide eyes and buzzy, slurping at a cola and babbling hysterically, thinking you’re creating an intelligent review of the show, when really you’re just going ‘omg..woah..omg..woah..omg..woah..’ a lot.

So, how was this sex? I would say… Long, hard, exciting, exhilarating, rough, too much foreplay, not enough actual action, changing, evolving, sweet sweet love followed by brutal screeching, moaning shagging O_O

.. Then the climax sucks.

But hey, it’s fun anyways!

What else? Ah yes…

I BOOKED GOD DAMN TICKETS FOR MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE.

The only thing that can express my glee.. Is flailsquee!

A new compound word had to be created for the sheer joy.

So now, MCR = flailsquee.

It was so unexpected… I was reading Kerrang! It came up.. I asked my mum as a joke..

.. And she said yes.

So now, I’m paying for me, my mum and mah darling Franny to go see the Jersey boys scream their sexy hearts out.

Now THAT should be good secks.

I may draw them and make them sign the pictures and pat the ‘fro and grope the Mikey and discuss lasik vs. contacts and snurgle Geetard and call him Geetard and poke Nigel and snurgle Frankie and hold his head to my bosom and get… BOB HUGS.

AND… I get to see Zoe and Rae. Hah. My cuddle-bunneh and my Mormon-lover.

Oh pffttt.. Detailed religion entry coming up later when I can be bothered.

PS: This post shames me more than I can say.. Because it’s the opposite of everything I respect in people.. But, opposites attract, and if I stop attracting myself, I’ll fall apart.

My logic keeps me sane =DDDD

- Finally switched rooms.
- Watched gay pr0n.
- Fell in love with Ville Valo all over again.
- Started work on my website.
- Ate the most heavenly pasta salad ever.
- Decided that Dark Light is my comfort blanket.
- Started sucking my thumb again.
- Realised I would kill for ramen / internet / Galaxy Ripples.
- Found brillllllliant videos.

Dolls. Genius…

Jyrki’s accent… urgh.. His voice.. He’s stunning.. Insta-gasm…

*DON'TBITCHMEABOUTBURNING. I .. .. my mum paid good money for those seats! (c)

Pee Pee Ess: Oh Godddd.. orgasmic ramen...

Ingredients:

Packet of chicken ramen.
Half an onion.
A few slices of ham.
A handful of cheese.
A few knobs of butter.
A splash of milk.
Mustard.
Soy souce.
Chilli powder.

Mix it together and enjoooooy the creamy yum-yum.

xsmearedxeyelinerx@hotmail.co.uk — Tue, 01 Aug 2006 07:34:00 GMT

OHMYFUCKINGGOD.

So, we sort out a chart, right?

I didn't just imagine that did I?

We sorted out a chart. She goes on two hours once then two hours again.

BUTTHEMOTHERFUCKINGBRATHASDECIDEDTHAT'SUNFAIR.

She should consider herself LUCKY. How many eleven year olds out there get four hours online a day?

She's such a spoilt fucking little fucking brat.

I want to strangle her.

I HATE that kid.

I freaking HATE her.

See, the caps lock of doom says so.

So, in the mornings I go online, since it's the only time I can without my family pissing me the hell off about it...

But no.

She's.

On.

My.

Computer.

So I asked what the fuck she thought she was doing, and she whined, yes, if she actually WHINED, 'The chart's unfaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaair..'

So she voted for her bullshit and checked her pussy little link-banning moderated web-fucking-sites then finally let me on. Only to declare that I was a bully because she missed her TV show while she was online and my typing was 'irritating' her, and I was doing it in 'purpose'.

WELL I'M NOT EXACTLY TYPING ACCIDENTALLY.

Edit: Now she's crying because my dad told her to stop being miserable.

Good.

BabbleBabbleBabbleBabble

xsmearedxeyelinerx@hotmail.co.uk — Sat, 29 Jul 2006 22:14:41 GMT

Sometimes I’m agonisingly naïve. I was toddling along quite happily through my life, yet somehow I was looking on at something I wanted. The life I wanted. The person I wanted to be.

So I make a plan, make a chart, make a lot of lists (OCD habit. Lists are good.) and… I don’t follow them.

Honestly, if I thought being clueless and idle was frustrating, it’s nothing compared to having a plan and being too disgustingly lazy to pull it off.

That seems to be my word of the day…week…month…year…life: Frustration.

I’m realising so many things. My vision has cleared, but sometimes I wish it hadn’t. Sometimes I wish I had stayed in my fantasy, because this reality is a fucking bitch.

Like my ego was boosted by my family for so many years, I have all these false illusions that I’m some fantastically wonderful creature that can do whatever her little heart pleases, whereas in in that mother-fucker-called-reality, I’m as arrogant, lazy and insolent as every other stereotypical teenager out there.

Through all my youth I promised myself it would never happen. I was a lovely little kid… fuck I was awesome back then. I was a true goody-two-shoes, brought up by my grandparents and my parents, family always around me, used to cooked dinners every night at the kitchen table and making paper mache dogs with grandad. I was full of innocence and energy and fantasy and light, always telling everyone I wouldn’t be a mouthy, idiotic, lazy, snob of a teen.

And look at me now. Aren’tcha all proud of how I grew up? An uneducated, homosexual porn reading/writing/roleplaying, arrogant, imbecile of a wannabe rebel hormone bomb.

I have everything. Every cliché. Every once of vanity, major-lack-of-depth, whininess, emoness, wrist slitting-ness, music-loving-ness… it’s all there. I’m every fucking teenage stereotype there is and it’s quite simply dismaying.

My mother doesn’t help, since she’s ever stereotype for over-protective, loud-mouthed-violent mother’s there ever was and every could be… We clash. A lot. She rants, I tell her she’s speaking shit, she rants some more. It’s a never ending cycle of wasted time, breath and tears.

We all know it’s all going to blow over and one of us will say sorry and make a cup of tea and cuddles up with a TV show.

But still… difficult all the same. What fascinates me, is through all the anger, so many of my problems were solved.

If there is any thing I wish to change… it is that my father was my main teacher instead of my mother. He’s such a calm, patient, understanding man. I know it’s wrong, but when I listen in on their conversations, I cry so hard because he’s saying everything right. Everything he thinks about me is so right, he understands so much without even having to talk to me, and yet my mother brushes it off and says all his ideas will never work.

Well actually, they would. I need to be pushed. I need a little discipline. Otherwise I’m gonna be living in a snazzy cardboard box in a Woolworth’s doorway.

But he helped. He said I can do some work in the day and he’ll mark it for me at night. And it sounds like the most obvious thing in the world. Something so simplistic that everyone who goes to a school will undoubtedly take for granted, but that tiny act of having to work to get a mark…. Fucking hell that’s such a relief.

And I won’t let him down. I won’t show my momma that his ideas are all ‘wrong’. Because they’re not. Because my daddy has the right idea and I WILL do my best to prove it. I will do my best to make him proud, because he makes me smile through my tears.

::luffsdaddy::

Then there’s the internet issue.

I know it’s sad, I know it’s pointless, I know it’s nonsensical, but by cheddar… nothing frustrates me more than someone stealing the computer from me. For ages I’ve been ‘BRB’ing every five minutes because my mum and sister have been demanding on, and it’s driving me absolutely batty. Finn_icontest pretty much died and all my RP characters kinda… poofed.

So now, I fixed that too! In a haze of tears I used sympathy to coerce my sister into a treaty. She goes online for four hours a day, from 2:30pm to 4:30pm, then 6pm to 8pm. That’s kinda alright for me. Better than the hour on hour off we had before that nearly drove me to scratching her eyeballs out.

But that strange, warped calm has fallen over us all. Part of me loves it, part of me is secretly freaked out. You know the one - increased politeness, kindness, cuddles and smiles. It’s all pretty false, but it makes my sister laugh, so hey.

Right now I should be cranky that lil sis won’t let us watch Wolf Creak on FilmFour, but I’m too damn excited about Guns n Roses tomorrow ><

Actually… I’m looking forward to Bullet a lot too. But meh. Major Axl fangirling.

I made the mistake of saying ‘I want Axl Rose!’ in front of a Sunday school teacher, however…

Apparently she knows that anagram…

For Kit

xsmearedxeyelinerx@hotmail.co.uk — Sun, 23 Jul 2006 12:37:10 GMT

Liiiife... is funny.. WHEN HIGH.

xsmearedxeyelinerx@hotmail.co.uk — Sat, 22 Jul 2006 14:53:20 GMT

Today I learnt a very valuable lesson. It's a lesson that will forever help me in my life. Something that works in conjunction with the greatest philosophies and theories.

It doesn't take a lot to amuse me.

Though that's not really it.

It's more like.

I giggle like a feckin' lunatic at everything.

Now, either this morning was a very funny morning, or I was high on my 4 hours of sleep and decided it was a very funny morning.

The latter's more likely. Since now I look through the things that made me cackle for five solid minutes and simply blink widely in classic chibi-style.

So welcome....

Screaming out the mating call
I've become the lord of love

I break your will
I'll break your will for good
I treat you like a brute

Who's your daddy,
say, who's your daddy?
Who puts you in your place?
Who's your daddy,
bitch, who's your daddy?
Surrender and obey, who's your daddy?

Oh! Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

She's a battle-ax in pinstripes
Get ready for your prime time
Max out the triple-X-drive.

Lordi.

The men are geniuses.

Seriously cleanser impaired geniuses.

How about this little tidbit?

Friend: I woke up at 2 and looked out of the window, it was beautiful.
Me: I woke up at 4. But I didn't look out of the window.
Me: I thought there was a hobo in my garden that would kill me O_O
Friend: ... oh God.

Some other things people won't get...

How about Ville coming SO CLOSE to posting The Used lyrics to Nick? Gulp...

Hah, and apparantly (my sources are Finnish and unreliable) Jyrki 69's real name is Jyrki Varjo. Snort. FINNISH JOKE. .. hah. (George Shadow, for anyone who doesn't know). I find it great that he changed his name FROM Shadow while so many would happily change their name TO Shadow.

I find it fun when people in my house make 'intelligent' jokes. It's not because the jokes themselves are funny, more often than not they're lame as a turtle in a cheese grater, but the simple idea that someone IN MY HOUSE has said something vaguely intelligent is the funniest thing of them all.

Me and my Dad: -discussing similies and metaphor differences-
Me: So a similie is a direct description of a visualisation whereas a metaphor tends to refer to the deeper meaning of the image or situation?
Dad: So saying your sister looks like a pig is a metaphor?
Me: ::frustrated sigh:: No, similie.
Sister: ::lip tremble::
Dad: ::manic cackle::
Me: ::headpalm::

Then there was being cybered with sharpies, making pornographic cartoons to Finnish monster rock, Kit being sleepy and me being generally hyper as fuck.

But the thing that made my day beyond all else was finding Sora's email. That.... I can't even tell you how much that boosted me. If you're reading this, love ya sweetie!

I made this! ::PRIDEPRIDEPRIDE::

Dustles: i could pick up an extra
Dustles: XP
Dustles: And somehow persuade Nick to let Tyson have his way with him
Dustles: XD
Dustles: Though I'm so partial to Dustin
Dustles: XP
Kaykayagain: Mehehe.
Kaykayagain: Do eeeeeeeeeeet.
Kaykayagain: ..wait..Nick's going out with my character..O_O..
Kaykayagain: ...don't do eeeet!
Dustles: XD
Dustles: -gigglesnort-
Dustles: You're so easily distracted

Dustles: Because it's too depressing to think about hot guys with girls
Kaykayagain: IKNOW.
Kaykayagain: It gets bad.
Kaykayagain: Because I can't have the "I met him in a nightclub.." fantasies.
Kaykayagain: 'cause it always goes into.. 'I met A7X at a nightclub... Syn smiled at me.. THEN WENT OFF TO HAVE WILD SECKS WITH MATT -- crap!'

BonnyYonny: And you should put a random picture of something very random at the end xD
Kaykayagain: Like.. thrust in, thrust out, thrust in, thrust out, thrust in, thrust out, LLAMA, thrust in, thrust out, thrust in, thrust out..
BonnyYonny: LMAO YEAH!
BonnyYonny: like have it just flash as quick as possible
Kaykayagain: Muahaha! -toddles off to video maker-
BonnyYonny: lmao
BonnyYonny: Oh good Kay. I love you

I <3 my giiirls.

- The 50s -

01. I love early rock'n'roll

02. 'Grease' is one of my favourite movies

03. Poodle skirts are cute

04. I'd love to be a good housewife with my own family

05. Guys look hot in leather jackets

06. Marilyn Monroe is my idol!

07. I have been to a drive in</b>

total [4]

- The 60s -

01. I own a mini skirt

02. I love Breakfast at tiffanys!

03. Flower power!

04. I own something tye dye

05. I would have loved to have been at Woodstock

06. I'd say i'm a fan of the Beatles ((..BLASPHEMY! THOSE WORDS ARE BLASPHEMY! ... Don't hate me for my Beatle dislike..))

07. I've watched the original Bewitched

total [5]

- The 70s -

01. I love Disco music <3

02. Platforms are cool

03. I'd love to have my hair flicked out like Farrah Fawcetts!

04. I was/am a fan of Abba

05. I have an old pair of rollerskates

06. I love old 70s movies

07. Glitter, glam, and disco YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

total [6]

- The 80s -

01. Big hair is what it's all about

02. I owned/do own a cabbage patch kid

03. I still own some tapes

04. I love hair metal/rock <3

05. I have seen all or most of the Nightmare On Elm Street movies

06. Shoulderpads should come back into fashion!

07. I own leg warmers!

total [2]

- The 90s -

01. I watched 'Friends' when it started

02. I remember Titanic coming out in cinemas

03. I love/d boybands!

04. Michael Jackson

05. I owned/remember a sega mega drive and early playstations

06. I own/ed a pair of leggings

07. I remember the tamagotchi and furbie fazes (I had a couple of both O_O)

total [3]

Which decade do you belong to?: THE 70s!

I was born a good few decades too late! Stolen from Kriss XDD

Jkjkfgffffffffffffff...

xsmearedxeyelinerx@hotmail.co.uk — Thu, 20 Jul 2006 14:49:55 GMT

I didn't sleep at all last night.

And I mean at all. Had a bath at ten, crawled in bed at 11, lay there awake for a long, long while... got up at 1am for the bathroom, slumped in bed some more, heard my sister being sick at 3am, got her a drink, gave up, came downstairs at 4am.

I've been online since 4am, people.

So there's a virus in the air thanks to sissy, I've had no sleep, it's hotter in this country than it is in fuckin' GREECE, I'm not eating properly, I've been online for close to 10 hours....

And now I'm burning up.

And William Beckett has a better body than me.

And my arms are starting to ache.

Along with my head.

And I have to go to church tonight since it's Jessie's last day.

Someone please come and stop me dying a grisly death?

Sick

xsmearedxeyelinerx@hotmail.co.uk — Wed, 19 Jul 2006 09:55:56 GMT

I feel physically sick.

I've never had strong opinions on the subject of abortion. Due to my own issues, worries about future children, wondering if I ever even want to have children... pregnancy has never been a top thought for me.

It's my classic reaction. Something that confuses me I block out.

Life is the greatest mystery of them all. The idea that I as a woman could possibly create a new life, with all the complexities, thoughts and emotions of someone like myself, completely baffles me.

No joke. It escapes me. That thought can't even register in my brain. That a girl who can't even draw a feckin' monkey can create a brand new life... just... psssssssh..

But then something changed. When I roleplay, I like my facts to be right. One of my characters is 'with child', and I was looking up the fetal growth.

It intrigued me. If I'm unsure of something, nothing pleases me greater than to learn about it.

Watching this creepy little alien like creature with a tail grow into an actual miniature human being... it was absolutely incredible.

Then I stumbled across THIS

I dare anyone, absolutely anyone, male or female, old or young, to read that and not be repulsed, sickened, disturbed and angered by the immoral process known as abortion.

I can understand the need for it. I understand that if a woman is raped she might not be able to cope. I can understand medical reasons as need for abortion.

But that's as far as it goes. The idea that a woman would have that done to her CHILD, in most cases, a baby that would have a 60% chance of life if it was born... also escapes me. Disgusts me. The thought that she would do that for reasons such as 'I can't cope with a child..' are just... unbelievable.

If there's an issue like that, go for adoption. So many good, kind people can't have children, and adoption is their only hope.

Yet some selfish women, perfectly able to carry, but too busy for the trials of a child, are lucky enough to fall pregnant, and kill that little life.

It's murder. It's barbaric, it's brutal, it's nonsensical, it's disgusting....And just...urgh... I can't even find the words anymore.

Wow.

xsmearedxeyelinerx@hotmail.co.uk — Tue, 18 Jul 2006 18:23:00 GMT

I can feel myself slipping back. Walking to that place of the past I used to be in. Where I write and cut and cry and wallow and think and sink. I hate being such a cliché - the wrist slitting chick in eyeliner who writes in notebooks, listens to FFTL and sobs until she vomits because it makes that ever growing lump in her chest fade. But what are statistics and clichés other than things that happen often? I can’t even claim to be special or different because there’s a million other kids in the world going through the same problems; worse problems.

Even I will look back on these words and laugh. Emotions are so fleeting - move onto another and the previous seems so irrelevant and ridiculous. The bane of my life? A woman known as my mother.

Oh how I hate myself for saying this. Most of the time she’s the most wonderful woman in the world, but other times she’s an ignorant, screaming, swearing control freak who knows just what nerves to hit to have me sobbing on the floor.

No one in the world is satisfied with their lives. We all want a bit more, or at least something, but the way we handle it is the real life. The real thing which defines us. Everyone in my house hates their world, yet we all treat it so differently. My sister falls into fantasy, my father to work and gambling, me to blanking everything out. But my mother screams. She makes brilliant schemes for changing her life, gives us all lectures ordering us to put our souls on the line, slaves to help her, then doesn’t keep up her end of the bargain.

In a way I do this. I write lists and lists declaring what I’ll do yet I never, ever follow through. I have such idealic views of a future I’ll never even have due to sheer laziness. My drive in life has always been to be unique, different, myself… But in doing so I’ve only managed to work myself into one category: failure.

I don’t have much of a life, never have and never will, and I’m dandy with that. It never effected me so much when I was younger, but it does now. When I’m crying myself silly and I KNOW that even the simple act of having someone hold my hand and tell me it’s okay would be enough to pull me through. That the one thing I can’t have is the thing that would save me.. That’s when it hurts. When there’s no one there to understand, no one there to truly care. And I accept that it’s all my fault.

I find it very hard to bond with people. Very hard to discuss anything other than random bullshit. I can never find that connection on an emotional level. Probably because emotions aren’t exactly my strong point. There is no technique, no formula, no logic to it… Most of the time I’m just numb, anyways. I find myself eagerly delving into this black pool of depression just so I can feel. Feeling dead is making me alive. Even when I cry in the back of my mind there’s a relief that I still can. That I’m not heartless, that I’m not some unfeeling robot.. This wannabe individual’s salvation is in knowing that she’s just like everyone else.

It would be so easy to hate myself for fucking up so deeply on so many levels. Yet I refuse to. I’ve lost everything, hell, I’ve lost things I never even had in the first place, but at least if I still even remotely like myself I’ll be able to cling to the merest shreds of self worth, confidence, dignity… I can’t let go of those things, even though right now there’s absolutely nothing in myself to like.

I feel so empty, and this pity party aint exactly working’.

There’s so many random thoughts in my head right now.

Like.. Communication has always been my favourite thing. I respect people who can come up and say ‘there’s a problem, how do we fix it?’ more than anything. To be open about your feelings and ideas, not only willing to discuss your own, but ready to listen to other’s. It’s my dream to be such a person, and I don’t know where that comes from. Communication has never been big in my life. My family has always had the I’m-right-you’re-wrong-and-you-don’t-get-an-opinion-until-you’re-working-anyway kind of attitude. Basically, I’m banned from free thought and expression. Thinking about it, no wonder I’m so fucked up…

What brought all this on? The most explosive evening in my house…ever. And if you even had the tiniest idea what usually happens, you’d realise what a big deal that sentence is.

My mother is a control freak. I love her, but she is. She wants us all to do what she wants and when we don’t our lives are made a living misery.

I’m not going too deeply into it, but on all four parties, things were said which have needed to be said for far too long. Tears were shed and plates were smashed and faces were slapped.. And I wanted to scratch my wrists but my mum left enough wounds for me.

But part of it woke me up. For so long I have felt so numb. Ever since I came out of that period of depression there’s been something wrong, something dead, something rotting away. I haven’t been me. For close to six months I haven’t been myself and it hurt. My subconscious was telling me how wrong my behavior was… yet I never listened.

Now I’m alright, though. Now I feel like I used to feel. I can actually feel emotions… I can laugh and smile and cry and love and hate with a fiery burning passion. I can talk and jump and dance and eat and actually FEEL it. I can write and draw and paint and actually put emotion into my actions. I feel like the old me again.

And even though anyone who even bothers to read this journal hasn’t got a clue what the old me was like… I can promise you, she’s better than the corpse you used to know.

xsmearedxeyelinerx@hotmail.co.uk — Thu, 13 Jul 2006 22:30:22 GMT

Running around a church in a ball gown with green twisty rollers in my hair, coated in neon make-up, singing Alice Cooper.

Can life get better?

::Avenged Whore::

xsmearedxeyelinerx@hotmail.co.uk — Thu, 13 Jul 2006 11:50:46 GMT

A few points, harsh as they may be..

- How could the band who wrote the screaming beauty of I Won't See You Tonight (Part One) come out with the smolshy eighties rock bullshit of Warmness on the Soul? It's bad. Fucking. Kareoke.

I understand he wrote it for Val, and cute and admirable and adorbale and romantic it may be... but good it aint. I'm all for writing songs for your chick, dude! But keep it personal! Please don't force rock fans to rave out to Lips of Deciete and then be hit with that little stomach turning whammy.

It's just so....BAD. I can't actually find words.

I'm shock that such cliche crap can come from Matt Shadows.

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Created with angelamaria's Icon Table Generator @ Bauble

I decided I needed pretty Matt icons, but I was too lazy to find them.

xsmearedxeyelinerx@hotmail.co.uk — Tue, 11 Jul 2006 17:50:00 GMT

Her hair was up in a pony tail, her favorite dress tied with a bow.
Today was Daddy's Day at school, and she couldn't wait to go.

But her mommy tried to tell her, that she probably should stay home.
Why the kids might not understand, if she went to school alone.

But she was not afraid; she knew just what to say.
What to tell her classmates of why he wasn't there today.

But still her mother worried, for her to face this day alone.
And that was why once again, she tried to keep her daughter home.

But the little girl went to school eager to tell them all.
About a dad she never sees, a dad who never calls.

There were daddies along the wall in back, for everyone to meet.
Children squirming impatiently, anxious in their seats.

One by one the teacher called a student from the class.
To introduce their daddy, as seconds slowly passed.

At last the teacher called her name, every child turned to stare.
Each of them was searching, a man who wasn't there.

"Where's her daddy at?" she heard a boy call out.
"She probably doesn't have one," another student dared to shout.

And from somewhere near the back, she heard a daddy say,
"Looks like another deadbeat dad, too busy to waste his day."

The words did not offend her, as she smiled up at her Mom.
And looked back at her teacher, who told her to go on.
And with hands behind her back, slowly she began to speak.
And out from the mouth of a child, came words incredibly unique.

"My Daddy couldn't be here, because he lives so far away.
But I know he wishes he could be, since this is such a special day.
And though you cannot meet him, I wanted you to know.
All about my daddy, and how much he loves me so.

He loved to tell me stories. He taught me to ride my bike. He surprised me with pink roses, and taught me to fly a kite. We used to share fudge sundaes, and ice cream in a cone. And though you cannot see him.
I'm not standing here alone.

Cause my daddy's always with me, even though we are apart
I know because he told me, he'll forever be in my heart."

With that, her little hand reached up, and lay across her chest.
Feeling her own heartbeat, beneath her favorite dress.

And from somewhere here in the crowd of dads, her mother stood in tears.
Proudly watching her daughter, who was wise beyond her years.

For she stood up for the love of a man not in her life.
Doing what was best for her, doing what was right.

And when she dropped her hand back down, staring straight into the crowd.
She finished with a voice so soft, but its message clear and loud.

"I love my daddy very much, he's my shining star.
And if he could, he'd be here, but heaven's just too far.
You see he was a policeman and died just this past year.
When airplanes hit the towers and taught Americans to fear.

But sometimes when I close my eyes, it's like he never went away."
And then she closed her eyes, and saw him there that day.
And to her mothers amazement, she witnessed with surprise.
A room full of daddies and children, all starting to close their eyes.

Who knows what they saw before them, who knows what they felt inside.
Perhaps for merely a second, they saw him at her side.
"I know you're with me Daddy," to the silence she called out.
And what happened next made believers, of those once filled with doubt.

Not one in that room could explain it, for each of their eyes had been
closed.
But there on the desk beside her, was a fragrant long-stemmed pink rose.