Weblog

Monday, 23 November 2009

  • Gone

    She left our world yesterday morning.
    9:30 am, listening to "On Eagles Wings" she slowly escaped from her pain
    with all her friends and family around.
    Tears filled the room as did memories.
    We used to color together when I was younger.
    That was kind of our thing.
    Going over to her house every day after school.
    She used to work at the food pantry and I used to think that was so cool.
    She was going to get me an application so I could work there with her,
    but shortly after cancer took over.
    She used to make up stories all the time.
    Kind of like lying, but more innocent.
    Always thought of everyone.
    For christmas, no one was ever left out.
    I'll forever love my oma and miss her so much more.

    You really don't know what you have until it's gone.

Sunday, 08 November 2009

  • I value friendship.

    I wish I didn't get so attached to people.
    It makes me weak.

  • I should really stop taking those blistering hot showers.

    Familiar, suffocating steam welcomes me as I step into the enclosed walls of the memories pounding down.
    Pounding down on my now red back.
    I turn toward the shower head feeling the heat of the reminiscences that smell bittersweet.
    Clips of giggling fits, softball games, piggyback rides, singing in the car, Disney World and Key West, the way he used to grab my nose and tickle my feet, playing Butterfly kisses on repeat during the summer.
    Too bad all these memories are just that. Memories. Antiquated clips that will never happen again.
    Gasping for breath only after realizing the lack of oxygen trapped within the walls.
    Exiting the shower letting my wet hair smack the back of my neck.
    Wiping the fog off the mirror only to reveal a familiar face.
    A bright red, burning face.
    A cold shower seems like it would suffice the memories.
    But it just always seemed out of the question.

Saturday, 07 November 2009

  • The cold air brings out the truth in my blue fingers.

    Being away makes me think. Always makes me think.
    I think about lost friendships and how I wish things were the same.
    I think about my resistance to change.
    How the crow crowed three times.
    How the leaves change colors here,
    but the trees die there.
    I think about how the grass is never greener
    and expectations are never filled.
    Expectations. Expectations are set too high.
    Making it easy for dreams to get hurt
    because falling from a 3 foot hill hurts less than
    falling from the empire state building.
    I think about his voice. His voice whispering the word 'forever'
    and feeling it fall to my feet within a few months, 'forever' was deceased.
    I think about how much it bothers me, but I don't bother to say a word.
    About how I feel things are different, but know if I say something, he might agree.
    I think about how scared I am for him to see what I see.
    After seven months all of a sudden, he doesn't like to talk on the phone,
    I love you's don't sound as sincere
    and I feel that I have to cherish every time we hug,
    wondering if it may be the last.
    My hands shake. They never did that before.
    Knuckles dry up and blister with the cold
    and tears form ice on my pale face.
    Crying becomes frequent and I wonder if something is wrong.
    If everyone cries over everything like I do.
    Or if maybe there is something more than to what I look at as nothing
    might end up being everything
    wrong with me.
    The person I felt closest to, I've never felt so far away.
    I feel that he doesn't want to stay.
    These feelings are washed away everytime he kisses me.
    Because that's our time.
    Nobody can distract him from these lips.
    The chaos is gone.
    I wonder if he thinks about me as much as I think about him.
    I wonder if he loves me as much as I love him.
    I know I love him more than he loves me.
    I know something is different.
    I know my mind is fucked up and I'm not overemotional, I'm just sad.
    I know I'm paranoid.
    Sometimes I lay in bed at night thinking about
    everything
    that
    can
    go
    wrong.
    Being away makes me think.
    Therefore I want to go back.
    Because the truth slaps me in the face
    like the cold wind and the bittersweet pleasantries.
    Sometimes I hate those fucking pleasantries.

Tuesday, 03 November 2009

  • Lacking

    Ambition. I know I'm failing a class.. or two. I don't care enough to work at it to make the grade better..

    Confidence. As always, I find it hard to swallow a compliment down properly without choking on it later.

    Respect. For my mom who, whether I like to believe it or not, does do a lot for me.

    Good judgement. What is right always seems to have a very thin line between what is wrong these days.

    Him. I don't like to admit it, but when I see him for three straight nights in a row, he begins to grow on me and when he is taken away again, it's like I get the worst feeling in the pit of my stomach and I do blame all of the values I'm lacking above on him and his disappearance and his failed attempt to show me what life is supposed to be about and how people are supposed to act. I may seem like a coward, but I don't care. I refuse to blame myself for the emotional shit I deal with every fucking day. It's his fault.

    All
    his
    fault


Top Tags

[no tags]

LuellaBates

  • Visit LuellaBates's Xanga Site
    • Name: Luella
    • Gender: Female
    • Member Since: 4/1/2009

Archives

Don't worry - your calendar is here… to see it in action just click "Save" above and refresh the page.

About Me

  • Luella Bates is not my name, but my voice. I am a fifteen year old female who takes life in as it's laid out. I observe the world around me and record my thoughts and feelings daily. I have opinions, but unlike many people I know how to voice them in a communication friendly tone. I, for the most part, am not a judgemental person, only when it comes to judging myself. I am hard on myself, but I do accept who I am and embrace the weird things about me. The weird things about me help make up what society likes to call "diversity". Yes, I am diverse. I am a writer and this is my kingdom. Enthrall yourself with my words.

Pulse