just some

fun happy thought provoking quotes to help anyone jumpstart a piece.
perhaps.

"spongebob, your pencil's broken.
it won't make words."

"life is not cut and paste..."

"your kisses are addicting."

thanksgiving piece

i am thankful for the cliche: for the living and those who flourish in heaven. i am thankful for daddy and mommy, who tempt the disease known as confidence into my blood stream. and for my sister, who constantly challenges me with her lust for the unknown. the sisterly struggle to be better than the best - somehow, she never loses her definition of family.

i am thankful for tears and devoured empathy. how else would k.w. know i am eternally thankful for her existence? that horrid night she shattered her mind - slapped her world on pause for one whole month - i was trapped there with her. destruction running rampant in my sanity. those bitter nights when i couldn't help but declare, "this is it, this is all there is, this is the end." emptiness personified. i am so very thankful for god's second chances.

i am thankful for pens and the right of the written word. i am thankful for the life and times of jim morrison - and other ridiculous inspirations. the scent of freedom on my tongue, laughing in my ears, slapping every surface of the body. wake up, woman. your future is peering through the window.

yes,
i am thankful for the monster i call the future. ominious, looming closer closer closer. sometimes opporitunity is scary. i am thankful for every second my heart beats faster - every second my lungs compressand release.

some aren't lucky enough to have that luxury. i am thankful i am.

trapped

i wrote this after scavenging my former notebooks for any sort of wisdom. it's astounding how much i've changed since mid-freshman year...


my past is a vacuum. i get trapped in images and words buried in a sealed container labeled memories. i can't believe my mind once thought the way it did. i can't believe i once dreamed what i dreamt, smelled what i smelt, craved what i oh-so desired. bundles of yesterday clutched to my heart. my mind is cluttered with false accusations and half-decent lies. my mind is screaming, hold tight to nothing but who you are now...

the masculine mystique

boys are supposed to be the pillar of strength in an otherwise spineless society. it seems without men, the earth will stop spinning and civilization as a whole will collapse. i guess stereotypes are safe.

i know a boy. his biggest brag isn’t his bench press, or that he’ll one day rule the world with his obviously superior intellect. no, he’s seventeen years old, and he tells me he hasn’t cried in five years.

maybe there wasn’t a grin on his face, but my mind had submersed with the great stretch of time. does he feel sadness, i wonder? what happened to him? what made him resort to such an empty empathy? he’s seen things i can’t fathom. images of blood kissing asphalt; bodies tangled in metal and nature; the screams of death as he carries away another hapless victim. and yet, not a single drop of remorse. the devastation of the event strangled his sanity and suddenly, there was no need for tears anymore.

it’s just a memory, he strains. it does nothing.

nothing?

i don’t even think about it anymore.

is there strength in apathy? i don’t think so. if giving up my right to drown my cheeks in sorrow means being a man, then i want my apron now. because i can’t imagine floundering in a world in a patriarchy where emotion doesn’t exist. if death doesn’t stir a soul, a man, then i can’t imagine what would.

it's genderific!

currently titleness... sadness abounding...

if i could send a message to every ten year old girl, i'd tell her to stop -
stop growing up right now. dump out your fifty dollar purse and show me what's inside:
a box of crayons; a love note from your mommy; your telephone number in case you forget; a Polly Pocket doll for those dull classroom moments when you wish you could live someone else's life.

you are.

when i was ten, i didn't know the meaning of sex. i still scrambled to be first in line for the newest Disney movie, and i promise you a piece of clothing covered every square inch of my body. mom still doesn't let me go out of the house if my belly is showing.

those girls you see on tv aren't real; stop mimicking their words. they don't know what it's like to be a ten year old girl. if they say they do, then they're lying. so jump from the clutches of your plastic casing and please please,

just live as a ten year old girl.
i promise you barbie does not exist.