Short Fry

I'm beginning to feel like the last fry. You know, the one under the ketchup pile that no one wants to eat because it's so acidic. The one that's left behind because it tastes different. The one that got buried.

HPV Shots

For those of you that haven't already heard, the HPV shot has come out for use. They are debating over whether to make it a mandatory vaccine, and for many people (about 93% of the population), this is completely fine. But the other 7% is not so lucky, and you need to get informed. I have been to four doctors now including the ER and none of them seemed aware about this small 7%.

A small 7% of the population is at risk of having an allergic reaction to the HPV vaccine. If the symptoms are not connected many cases may lead to appendicitis or even death in several cases. Many of this information is available online along with many stories of people that have died or have lived to tell their experience.

Some of the very first symptoms occur when the shot is given. One common symptom is an extremely painful burning sensation in the arm where the shot is given. This shot is said to have hurt more than normal shots, but some people will have their whole arm hurt for days (longer than what is expected), and some have said to have the pain spread to their chest. Along with the shot, in some doctors offices they make sure you stick around 15 minutes after having been administered the shot because some cases involve the patients passing out. Passing out is usually excused as anxiety from needles, but even people who have no fear of needles at all still can end up passing out.

If you start to notice drastic changes in your personality, life, or habits after this shot, pay attention to them. Bring them to the table. This shot contains some harmful ingredients, ones that the human body should not be consuming. Some of these include ingredients found in cockroach killers, and some can cause infertility in rats. Please pay attention to this, it can flip your life upside down in a heart beat.

Running from emotion

I wore my hair back today, but no one was there to see it. I smiled all day, and no one was there to call me on its lie. I was sad today and no one was there to give me a hug. I was spacing today and no one was there to bring me to life. I didn't sleep last night, and no one was there to kiss me good morning. Because no one was gone. You were gone. You were off doing that again. Doing the things you do when you can't face your emotions. Running away from life, and seemingly running away from me at the same time.

Birthday Peace

December 26th. My birthday. The day my existence is acknowledged. The WORST day in my life besides Christmas. Great. I feel like every year that one day should revolve around them. I am nice to people on their birthday because they deserve to feel good. I feel that important people in your life should be recognized for what they do and who they are. My birthday? I wake up to a great "Happy birthday Ms. Pissy." Wow. That's what every person wants to hear first thing on their birthday. The.  One thing I asked for was quiet--just to get to sleep in and have a little time to myself... but instead I wake up to that great saying and people trying to force store-bought presents down my throat. What ever happened to quiet and a little bit of time to yourself? How do people live like this? I need to buy a remote island.

Level

It's not that there's anything wrong with me, it's just that I don't think there's anything right.

Christmas

I don't mean to be the Grinch, but I really dislike Christmas... It's the time where your family comes together and pretends to be perfect for the sake of pictures that will last a lifetime. It's a time where tradition is kept and smiles are supposed to be baked. Where people come together to celebrate family. And I can't stand it. There's so many bad memories, and my family is gone. How do you celebrate a single day that ironically marks one of the worst days you can remember? How would you want to remember something so sad that it makes you want to burst into lonesome tears every time you see a Christmas tree? I don't. I don't like looking at Christmas trees. I can't stand the look of happiness on other people's faces. I can't be around so many people filled with happiness while I rot away inside myself. I cannot stand Christmas.

Imagination

It hasn't been until now that I realize what I believe in. Many people believe in religion, have faith, follow their instincts or heart. I believe in imagination. Imagination is what propels me forward when I think I'm done. It's what keeps me going when I want to give up. It's my savior from all the stupidity I find myself putting up with. I love imagination. My imagination is where I want to live. It's what I want to follow, it's how I'm going to choose to write my life. I need it more than anything, because without imagination I would be nowhere. I can't say I don't listen to instinct or other beliefs in my life; but more than anything, I believe in imagination. Without imagination, the world would go nowhere. So I am going farther than I ever thought I would be. I am going to live, and doing with the love of my life; Imagination.

You Will Never Be Alone

"I knew a girl who liked to draw.
She drew pictures that nobody saw.
She was most artistic at night, in her
bathroom,out of sight.
She didn't tell a soul and her gallery grew.
Her drawings were different, no
pencil or pen,
But needed a bandage now and again.
We stood by the river, under the stars,
She rolled up her sleeves and
showed me her scars.
She felt so embarrassed and looked
at her shoe
I rolled up my sleeves and said
'I draw too.'"

I found this online and I'm not sure who wrote it, but I find it to be so beautiful. No matter how different you are, or what problems or challenges you think you have, there will always be people out there just like you. If you are suffering, there is someone out there who is suffering with you, no matter how far away you seem to be. You will never be alone.

I'm Sorry To You

I really just wanted to say I'm sorry. Every day it continues to amaze me that one little word can mean so much. That one small thing can have so much power. I wanted to say I'm sorry because this time I finally mean it. I'm am ready to apologize and I am accepting yours. I am sorry that I said all those things after you were gone. And I'm sorry that you believed what they told you because no one should have to feel what you put me through. I'm sorry that I couldn't have held on longer because I realized that that was my plan: to hold on a long time. I'm sorry that the people you knew didn't approve of me. I'm sorry that we couldn't have gotten along and that you didn't listen to me. But I'm mostly sorry that you didn't give me a second try because I would've made that the best time of your life on Earth. I'm sorry that it doesn't exist anymore.

My Muck

Dull days file down to dust and life seems to slip out right from underneath you. You don't see the point in getting out of bed if you're just going to suffer through another day. Another day of facing people that have no importance in your life... another day of wallowing down and wasting away in a vat of nothingness. Some people have no idea what makes them upset, and they don't need to. I sit here typing and content, not sure what's got me so down, but at the same time I'm aware of a lot of things that could be better. I feel stuck in a mud I have created, and my life seems to be slathered with it. Right now writing is the only thing I find myself content with. I've been pulling away from reality and escaping into my own world. But it's ok because they know me there.

Who I Am

So much darkness and menace.

Delirious from the cold.

Biting like snapping turtles I look for fingers,

but can only bite off my own.

Why?

Because I am alone.

People call me crazy, happy, and strong.

But nothing goes right;

my whole life is wrong.

There's cobwebs in my corners,

Bloodshot eyes peek out from my skull.

I often dream of wasting away,

But I'm already almost nothing at all.

A shell of lies

I smile at people often.

But life is too  much work

and my skin is starting to soften.

I'm not a quitter,

but I give up on so much.

I used to love life,

but now I bring death's cold touch.

I screw up a lot,

it's hard with no family.

I don't try my best, 

And I'm alone if I can be.

But everyday I walk in

and I still smile big.

But in my mind I've slaughtered everybody...

For the bacon is better than the pig.

          --K.Y.K

Being Terrified

Sometimes reality eats you whole. Alive. The concept of being buried alive could be the same thing. I look at my life and I wonder if I am truly happy with where I'm at and who's in my life. And I tell myself I am because the people who are near me are nice and it could be so much worse. But then I think that if I had a chance to re-do a moment of my past that I would. Because there are so many ends that lay unraveled. There are so many people that I wish I could un-hurt and there are so many memories I wish I didn't have seared into my mind. I feel sorry to the people I have hurt unintentionally and the feeling sucks ass. To know that you could have done something to change the past and make things better. To know that it's too late now, and you want to do nothing more than to curl up in a ball and waste away within yourself; that is a horrible feeling. It's terrifying to not be able to know if you walk around everyday fooling yourself that you are happy, or if you are genuinely happy with your life. It's terrifying to think that you need help and there is no one there to support you. It's terrifying to remember everyone that you've lost, and know that you can't bring them back. It's terrifying to know that every night you continue to lay in bed on your tear-stained pillow and rot in your own head. And the person you want most is no where to be found. They left because you hurt them. They hate you. It's not even your fault, but they hate you and they aren't coming back. They were your safety net. They left and now you are alone.

Sometimes and Somehow

Sometimes you need to sit back and take a break. Sometimes you just can't carry on or go any further without a goodnight's rest or a break to just relax. We all have those times where we feel like we're dreaming... we float through the day, not quite understanding what's going on or where we are or why it's happening or when it will end. You just sort of move by some spirit's hand; all you know is that you're not the one who's moving through the day. You're not really numb, but you could be better. You're on the verge of crying, but your eyes tease you and water and put themselves back to sleep.Sometimes (how I was today) you are on the verge of puking but you silently suffer while nothing comes out. And somehow you know it's not your fault. You are not the reason that you're so upset this time around. Because the world is just stuck in a messed up place, and you are not the one that put it there.

Questioning Authority

I don't know how to interact with people. Interact. What a funny word. People seem like more of a pain than what they are worth. No one wants pain but without pain no one could be happy. Like in school... who is truly happy? People and pain and school. How do people come up with the worst combinations ever? Like home. Everybody loves to have a home. But some dumbass decided to hyphenate the word work at the end and then bam! Homework now exists. You take something enjoyable, add a sprinkle of something else, and then once again, running away no longer seems like such a bad idea. And maybe it's really not, I mean, you won't know unless you go, right? Or maybe left...ha. Who came up with those words? If you're facing each other then it's backwards and then your head wants to explode and who the hell came up with directions? They bring order but with their order comes so much chaos.  Someone says left and you know what they mean, yet your hand refuses to point in the right direction anyway. PLus what if left is really right? Not directional wise, but correct? Left could be right instead of right, right? Technically anything is possible. The only reason we are accepting of things is because society forced that crap on our throats. Everything you've known could be an illusion. You have the choice not to believe them, and maybe you don't, but you decide to keep your mouth shut anyway. You decide this because the people are in control, not the government, and you've heard of the way people get locked up because they are labeled "crazy." And you're a psychopath, but you've chosen to blend in so there's no chance of suspicion.

Warm Shell, Cold Heart

I want to enfold you in my arms and keep you safe. But it's not so much you as I need safety myself. When I reach for you, you become so far, and yet you grasp my hand so close. Our hearts could connect but if only the castle around mine could be free. If only it didn't have a dreary fog and snaking vines wound around the heavy air.  My heart sags and seams pop when your image appears in my head. I remember your blue eyes, so vibrant, even when tears attempt to drown them. I remember your smile, quirky and tugging at the corners of my own lips. But yet I stay oh so sad. I remain trying to understand the mystery of how happiness could bring so much sadness at the expense of smiles combining with tears. I want to enfold you in my arms and melt into you so we will protect each other. Your memory sears into my head until your arms have the chance to sear into my sides every evening. To make me feel enclosed and safe but cold and alone like the heavy stone that drops into my stomach. Moss covered and looking for light to warm up. The golden rays of your blonde hair warming only the water in my eyes.

Dreaming of gold

The thing about dreams is you never know where they're going to take you. You can't tell where they'll begin, or where they'll end, IF they ever do end. The swirls of colors; the swirls of yearning dancing behind your eyelids waiting to be revealed as you wake up the next day. Maybe there's a reason we don't remember our dreams, and maybe there's a reason we do. Dreams are the doorway to psychology. Dreams are the only way the world can truly speak to your soul. I believe the only way you may understand and figure things out is through dreaming.

Pot of Gold

By: Dianna Vermillion

Together we chased after the rainbow

to find the pot of gold; but in each other,

we found our own treasure to unfold.

Right Time

Her stomach quivered with anxiety. She aimed all of her focus at her rubbery legs to keep from tripping over her own feet, but the hesitation in her step remained painfully obvious.  She swore her forehead was glistening with drops of sweat, but every time she brought her up to her forehead there was nothing. She felt the gravel giving and then crunching under her shoes. The grey dust stained her toes as she concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Once again, the awkward silence had risen from it's grave. Besides the occasional car that drove past, it was so quiet she almost forgot they were walking side by side. Almost. It felt like a dream; a moment frozen in time; although the gravel stained his shoes just as real as it stained hers. She couldn't avoid it forever, no matter how damn good at it she was. She knew she could say no and walk out, but it didn't feel right. She had known this was coming and she had made her decision. For once in her life, her heart and mind were agreeing, even if it was with some hesitance.


"It's desperately sad, that this character who deserves so much, ends up with nothing again."

                   --David Tennant

The Dream of Reality

Dreams are always an extreme. Dreams can imprison you in your own mind. Encased in the folds of your thought process; either dancing on water or swimming through the depths of hell. Exploring your mind could be a ship getting pulled under by a kracken. Maybe you can sing. Or maybe your heart is upside down; it's screwed up but it still keeps you breathing. Or maybe a pair of eyes placed backwards. You may only ever see your head, but at least you can see at all. Dreams can carry fears. Fears are the unknown. Our dreams may scare us because they are a carrier of the unknown. They infect us with an idea and suddenly everyone runs, screaming. Our dreams could be controlling or our dreams could be releasing. Our dreams may eat us alive or spit us out. Maybe we are dreams, or maybe we are our own dreams.

"Your dream doesn't have an expiration date. Take a deep breathe, and try again."
    --Unknown

My mark

I'm not perfect. I will never be perfect. But I don't want to be perfect. While everyone else walks in white, I leave footprints in black. The smallest difference; a small drop of colored paint in a world sketched in gray scale. So while everyone else walks in white, I leave footprints in black. My footprints.

"somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue, and the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true."
        --Lyman Frank Baum

The Possibility of Heroes

I can’t recall the exact place, the exact minute, or just exactly what it was that I was doing at the time. But I can tell you that it’s a sensation, not a memory. Growing up, you want nothing more than to be like everybody else. You see the book cover, not what the pages behind it are filled with. Maybe at one point you wanted to look like Barbie. Or maybe you wanted to be the strongest person in the world, like you thought your dad was. But that’s the catch: it’s only a thought. When you’re young you have the innocence of childhood. The moment in life where your parents, siblings, family, will always stick their necks out for you. They’ll hold your hand, be your best friend, do whatever it takes to see you grow your wings. But once you’ve grown your wings, the wind sweeps you off your feet and carries you away. Yes, you still label those people as your family, but they no longer hold your hand. They are not the same shells of the people you grew up with and thought you knew. Falling into adulthood lets you flip the front cover of that book. And you finally find out why you can’t judge a book by it’s cover; because the cover is so misleading. The hero figure that held you while you cried about the monsters under your bed is now the same one who pushes you into uncomfortable situations with hopes that you’ll learn from it. The older sibling that protected you from the thunder and lightning now makes fun of you in front of their friends.

To me it’s not a memory, but a sensation of waking up one day and realizing you don’t have any heroes and you don’t look up to anybody anymore. It’s the feeling you get when you wake up from sleeping. When the sky is half awake and half asleep, just like you. Confusion sets in as you realize you have no memory of how long it’s been since you first fell asleep. I came up in a time with no heroes because I cracked the shell of childhood. Heroes are a reflection in a pond to me. Sometimes you can see them, but in my life they never seem to be real. You can admire someone’s qualities, characteristics, looks, but is there really a single person you want to be exactly like? People screw up so many times. No one is perfect and you need to be able to except that. But I would rather know that I am in control, independant, and making my own mistakes, than copying someone else’ s. We learn from other’s mistakes’, but we don’t take note until they happen to us directly. If we try, we can avoid the world’s mistakes. I want to be me. I don’t want to sit around and be like someone else, or sit around and wait for someone to come save me. Because when you sit around and wait, you have no proof that someone will show up, and you have no proof that following their path will be the right choice. I came up in a time with no heroes because I choose to rely on myself and not believe in a chance that I’m sick of having to fix.





"A bird sitting on a tree is never afraid of the branch breaking, because her trust is not on the branch but on her own wings."

--Unknown