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Exhausted, sick, I am Life has no focus, I got no plan Spark struggling, gasping for breath I have no reason to fear this Death Got all the know but none of the conviction Pain is the drug and love is the addiction Got all the talent but none of the heart Peace is the vision and blood is the art Just want to find Home Nothing's ever easy when you're all on your own So I pull my hood up and cover my eyes Pretending it'll go away, if only I hide Got all the know but none of the conviction Pain is the drug and love is the addiction Got all the talent but none of the heart Peace is the vision and blood is the art Pen your soul onto your arm 'Cause you know it can't do any harm Dry your tears and pick up the pace You can't win, but you're gonna finish the race Got all the know but none of the conviction Pain is the drug and love is the addiction Got all the talent but none of the heart Peace is the vision and blood is the art Breathe and sing and never stop We'll get there, though we'll never be on top It's okay, yeah, 'cause we don't care But only as long as we go somewhere. |
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Adrenaline rushing Your heart stops its pumping Blood hits your senses The dark poison commenses Shift into hardcore gear Feel the swell as the beast draws near Take a breath and prepare yourself Knowledge is the force and instinct is your wealth We run for the day Never quite having our own say Face the doom 'cause we know what's worse And we know it's gonna get here first Shift into hardcore gear Feel the swell as the beast draws near Take a breath and prepare yourself Knowledge is the force and instinct is your wealth Grab a gun and enjoy the ride As we fall, rising again with the tide Close those eyes and acknowledge your fear When morning comes, I promise you won't be here Shift into hardcore gear Feel the swell as the beast draws near Take a breath and prepare yourself Knowledge is the force and instinct is your wealth Hold the candle for some light Find a mirror -- promise you won't freak at the sight Here the night comes, and in you it stays Soon you'll find how danger never pays Shift into hardcore gear Feel the swell as the beast draws near Take a breath and prepare yourself Knowledge is the force and instinct is your wealth Dread is as sorrow does Here the Tragedy is the end of Loves Follow the fire to your doom -- your heart Revel the hollowness, pain your art. |
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Heralds of memory long since past The times that skipped by way too fast Anger builds, the hatred fills Tears threatening wide eyes, the last resort of broken wills And you try, you only want the best You long for the adrenaline rush, not sleep's rest No more will you tolerate the pain Too much is the sting, while you wonder if you're sane Just close the bloodshot eyes Forget the hurt as the nothingness flies Kill or be killed -- or just ignore Step through life in this state of unending bore And you try, you only want the best You long for the adrenaline rush, not sleep's rest No more will you tolerate the pain Too much is the sting, while you wonder if you're sane Draw the dagger from your corpse -- long dead Hold it up to ghostly head You know what should be done But you can't go through . . . And so you run And you try, you only want the best You long for the adrenaline rush, not sleep's rest No more will you tolerate the pain Too much is the sting, while you wonder if you're sane Hide away from all your scars They are nothing more than your prison's bars Constant reminders of every mistake The reason why you killed yourself, for your own pitiful sake And you try, you only want the best You long for the adrenaline rush, not sleep's rest No more will you tolerate the pain Too much is the sting, while you wonder if you're sane Blood in the senses and heart in ruin -- rotting away Things didn't always have to be this way So reflect on Life, question what it means And flirt with Death as he haunts you in your dreams. |
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Kay, so, yesterday was this big concert for the Bella Voce choir, and of course the OC was there too . . . And one of my friends is in there. Well, she's never liked my boyfriend and she's made that very clear to me . . . Ugh, it pisses me off. So, anyway, right after we finished performing our last song (America, AKA My Country 'Tis of Thee), we of course went to the choir room for feedback from our teacher. And, um, after we got out, my supposed "friend" was ranting yet again about how I have a boyfriend and she doesn't. I'm finally happy, and all she has to say is "it's not fair" and have a self pity party? And that's not even the worst of it. Wanna know what she really said to me? Her exact words: "No offence, but I'm cuter than you and I still don't have a boyfriend." What a bitch. You know, I've had self hatred issues and really bad depression probably since the fourth grade, and that's all she can think of? I'm not trying to be having my own pity party here. I've been working really hard to get better. It's all I can do not to think of hurting myself. But then she has to be so damn rude. You know what, though? It doesn't matter. What other people think of me doesn't define my own self worth, and the one person who really matters to me thinks I'm beautiful. And you know what else? I take a lot of crap. I should be gone right now, 'cause if my dad hadn't walked in on me before I did something stupid . . . Well, I would have hung myself. And if that's not proof enough that I'm meant to breathe out until the last of my life, then I have no clue what is. And I'm fine now. I mean, I'm not fine, but I am. I'm stable, at the least. It's not like the only thing I'm thinking of is the next time I'm going to revel in the burning sensation and adrenaline flood. I've been clean for a really long time, and if I have any say in it I won't ruin it. So I guess it's all I can do to just hold on and keep my head above water. It's not really all that hard, with my awesome Nick, fabulous parents, terrific friends, and wonderful teachers. My parents are so loving and supportive . . . They're phenominal. I mean, I've put them through a lot. No, correction . . . I've put them through Hell. And they've never let go of my hand, not even once. And my teachers! Mrs. Dellinger, Mrs. Hebert, Mr. Detweiler . . . All of them. Askham, Rucker, Walterbach, and even -- though I shudder to say it -- Laydon. They're so cool. Mrs. Dellinger I have nothing but idolation for, Mr. Detweiler is simply the coolest history nut that ever lived, and Mrs. Hebert is so compassionate. I love and respect all of my teachers so much . . . They're pretty sweet. And then there's Nick. He didn't really say anything to my so-called friend, but he has his quiet ways. I mean . . . He didn't do anything right then, but he let's me know. He stops me in the middle of the hall before we go to fourth period (Mr. D's social studies class, Honors) just to tell me that he think's I'm beautiful. Not pretty. Beautiful. I get butterflies in my stomach and I feel totally light headed just thinking about it. He is perfect. He's the kind of guy that feels the following: When I rain, I shine. Whether I'm down or up, I glow. My eyes hold the solar system within them. And you know what everybody says . . . Guys only tell girls that they really -- I mean REALLY -- like that they're beautiful. Not cute. Not pretty. Beautiful. So, yeah, I guess that the silly Oberon Choir wench is right. She is cuter than me. But I'm more beautiful than she'll ever be. |
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Irrational as it is, even with all my old wounds, scars, and hurts, I am totally in love. My heart has been taken from my hands . . . And I give it completely willingly. So my Nick, the boy I wrote "Ignite" for, gave me a poem back today . . . I love my sweetheart. Valentine's day is the best! Here's what he gave to me . . . "Rachel Kind of heart Loving to all Beautiful in every way Our love is a bond We cannot be broken We are strong together Rachel Happy Valentine's Day! -Nick Miller" He's not a man of very many words . . . And he's not much for rhyming or anything. But what he does say swells my little teenaged heart. He is the single most terrific guy on the face of this Earth . . . And I am so lucky to have him. He thinks I'm beautiful, and he lets me know. He plays with my fingers in a sort of adorable and skiddish way . . . And he's the most devout follower of Him that I've ever known. Ugh, just thinking of him gives me the jitters! I adore my Nick so much . . . I hope this never ends. I've been hurt really bad before . . . And it's a huge reason why I was outta school for a week . . . And in that acursed hospital. I have boundaries, yeah. But once somebody gets close to me, they're totally in, and I completely trust them . . . And it comes back to bite me in the ass. I know Nick would never hurt me, though. He's had so many chances. And it's really cool, 'cause when I was having the hardest times, and I was in the Psych Ward, he called me every night. Even if we had nothing to say, he was always there. And we talk about our faith all the time. My parents adore him . . . He's just a real sweetheart. I've wanted to close up again so terribly, but it's in large measure because of him that I haven't. And I thank God for that, because when I close up I hurt myself . . . And everybody who cares about me. So I really am blessed. Not lucky. Blessed. There is no such thing as luck, because God does it all for us. I'm so elated right now. Even with how hard my session with my counselor was today (we were talking about me not eating and needing more sleep and setting boundaries so I don't get hurt), my heart is so full of joy that it just might swell to the point of bursting. I can't even tell you how good it feels . . . To have so much going for me right now. Even though it feels like more shit's going on than good, and it's really hard to get through the day clean -- of cutting -- I'm doing okay. I'm really, really doing okay. But, alas, I still have bad grades. It's not that I'm a bad student . . . It's just that we get so much crap piled on us all at once. But it's fine, I guess. I have a nice four day weekend to catch up on shit and get some MUCH needed rest, plus trimester three will be here in about a week and I'll have a completely clean slate. Thank God. I'm really good in school, and I just have to quit slacking off. I'm so bored, and I'm so sick of all this crap . . . Guess I just need to reapply myself. Everything is alright. |
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So, today after seventh period -- as is my costom -- I stopped over at my boyfriend's locker. I had put a note in there earlier and was super excited to see that I had gotten his number right . . . And when he found my little card, he spun and gave me a sweet and tiny kiss. Well, one of the kids next to his locker turned around when he saw that, asking if we were going out. "Yeah," I told him. "Yup!" was my Nick's responce. He nodded his head in acknowledgment. "Cool, cool. So have you had sex yet?" he asked us. I reacted without thinking. "Nick and I are both Christians, and we don't believe in having sex before marriage." My face was hot and my expression was stone as these words flew out of my mouth. I was aware that I was doing it, but it wasn't entirely me, either. "Yeah," Nick said, as he put his arm slightly around me. What a great guy he is. He was really upset by that, too! We walked down the halls, side by side (as usual), and he looked over at me very suddenly, saying "That's really bad. How corrupt the people are . . ." I have never loved anyone more than that. In that moment, I realized just how lucky I was . . . I probably have the best guy in the world, and he's given me his heart, too. You know, in my Christian youth group this weekend, we were talking about the differences between males and females, and how we both were made in the image of God. We were talking about how both sides of humanity's whole reflect different aspects of our Maker (i.e., a guy's strength and need to protect, a girl's compassion and need to defend), and how as Christians we are not perfect, but how the ultimate goal is to obtain His likeness and therefore His divinity. We were talking about how when you see someone who's Christian, and you don't see them . . . You see God. That's my Nick. He is completely pure in heart, soul, and mind. He is a reflection of Jesus' love and God's passion. He is so awesome . . . And I'm not saying that he is God. But he is God-like. And I can't tell you how incredible it is. The world needs more people like my Nick . . . I know that I'm not the best, but I hope that at least someone can say the same about me. That I'm a God-like creature. And the coolest thing is . . . Our God isn't male or female. He's nothing, and therefore He relates to both sides. I like to think that Nick is the perfect completion to me . . . I'm only a teenager, but I know I'm sure in love. It's days like this that just get me high. |
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Ignite 2 - 11 - 2008 Loneca IGNITE You hold my heart inside of my hands And when I’m with you, everything is just fine You make me totally safe, right here where I stand Because you’re the one person I can always call mine The best part is -- you always catch me so I never have to land So many times I find myself wondering What exactly it is that I ever did to deserve you And so fast am I now discovering It doesn’t matter, from out of the blue It’s my love for you that’s got me recovering I love how you play with my fingers When we hold hands, I love How your smile lights up everything, even more than Mrs. Dellinger’s And it’s the best feeling when you kiss me and look down at me from above I swear I can fly, when I’m with you -- and I love how you’re such a thinker So many times I find myself wondering What exactly it is that I ever did to deserve you And so fast am I now discovering It doesn’t matter, from out of the blue It’s my love for you that’s got me recovering So here’s to you, and I just thought you should know That I love you, and you make this all worthwhile And I swear I’ll never let you go You’re the one person who can always make me smile Even if it doesn’t always show. |
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It all started just a little over fourteen years ago. I grew up in a very loving and secure environment, with my parents married five years before having me. My mom came down with toxic shock syndrome after she gave birth to me, but I came out perfectly fine. Technically, my mom shouldn't be here at all, but the Lord was watching out for us. When I was taken home for the first time, though, my dad was scared shitless because he had no one to help him out. There was him, and there was me, and that was all. Daddy meticulously obsessed himself with my belly button, and it's all funky because of it. I have a cute little outie instead of the normal innie, and every time I look at it, I'm only reminded of how much my father loves me. My mom made it out of her troubles alright eventually, and to this day we're a happy little family just getting by in this world. Roughly five years after my birth, for up until that point I was an only child, my little brother came into being. My fondest memories of that time were when I would sit in my mom's hospital room and watch Pokemon, and when -- on the first day of his life -- the nurse gave me a "big sister" sticker. Now, all these years later, I am a bored teenager with a thirst for adrenaline (seriously, I think I'm addicted to horror movies) and one of the world's most opinionated souls ever. I am completly unconventional, I defy all definition, and I am totally unorthodox. In fact, I strive to be anything but normal. What the hell is normal anyway? I have my fair share of issues, I'm not perfect. But I do so try to be the best at, well . . . Pretty much everything. When I get older, I have dreams of becoming a journalist and sharing my Christian views on the everything with absolutely anyone who will listen -- er, I mean, read. But before that I hope to be able to go to England's Oxford college, and earn masters degrees in both journalism and astronomy. I am a choir girl, and very proud of it. I wouldn't trade my voice for anything in the world . . . Whether said voice in question be that on paper or that in the air. Thank you for reading. |
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It's so messed up. The people who are at the most risk always flock to others with their same issues. And in some ways, that's good. But in others, it sucks. That is not a healthy environment. And when you get a "best friend" with the same troubles as you, you're totally screwed. I hate to do this, but I gotta quote something that someone said to me . . . "A sinking ship cannot save another in the same circumstances." Well, yeah, that's true. But it's a hazard. Why do people do this to themselves? Seriously. The fact that we're so screwed up as a society is the reason why individuals have these troubles in the first place. Well . . . That's not entirely fair. It also has to do with the person themselves (i.e., family history, hormones, etcetera), but if supposed "coolness" weren't based off of how poorly you treated people, that'd solve a whole bunch of stuff. I'm sick of it, and I'm through. |
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Loneca 02 - 08 - 2008 Screw You You claim to be my friend My best one, you little snot And you never are, in the end So I’m through taking your gun shots For myself, now I’ll fend Are you done eating my garbage Will you stop your idiocy Or will I have to put out your harmful rage And let you suffer in your misery Forget the soul I put away from me in a cage I’m so sick of being down Because of you, all because of you You’re the pain in which I drown And I’ve finally figured what to do So step aside, I’m tired of this frown Just forget it, leave me alone You’ve made me blind for so long And I’m no longer your little drone You’re the worst part of my song And you’re being sent home So take him, and I hope you find What an ass he is, I hope he rips your heart out Screw you, no longer will you toy with my mind I no longer hear you, even as you scream and shout Finally, I’m leaving you behind. |
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You know, I am so sick of the world. Everyone is so cruel, and nobody cares. People are dying to be loved -- in other words, commiting suicide -- because of the assholes in their lives, and no one gives a damn. Have you ever thought that if we showed a little compassion, maybe -- just maybe -- things'd be different? Girls are starving themselves because they're not "perfect". We are a society who idolizes sex icons and worships retards who never got a real education (yeah, take that Britney Spears), and I am just plain tired of it. And the poor guys! They feel like if they don't have Orlando Bloom's four pack abs that they'll never measure up to anything. Why do we do this to ourselves? It's insane. And you know what? I don't buy it anymore. Pete Wentz, Kirsten Dunst, Haylee Williams . . . They're all just people. Being famous doesn't make them better than us. Being "beautiful" doesn't either. Beauty is a thing that's more than skin deep. It shouldn't matter if you're a prep, a goth, a nerd, or an emo, just as long as you're a good person. Just be you. Because the only thing that's going to matter when you die is who you are as a person. If you don't know who you are, how can you ever say where you're going? If you try your best to imitate someone else all your life, well, that's not really a life at all. And what is up with all these fashion zombies? Yeah, I agree that you should want to look nice. I mean, I don't expect people to dress like the hobo off on Main Street. But good grief! What the hell is up with Billabong and Aeropostale and crap? Who wants to spend twenty freaking bucks on a pair of jeans? We, as a society, are a greedy bunch of loathesome bastards. There are people in China right now who are starving because of us. We're usurping all of their natural resources (bamboo, their precious and little amount of farmland, rare minerals) which they need to survive, and yet we still want more. My home wouldn't even be here if it weren't for the retarded miners who wanted to get rich quick off of gold. And it's all for nothing. We all die. Nobody's immortal. So why should you go crazy over trying to gain wealth which will never bring you happiness? And I'm not trying to come off as a hypocrite. I like to go to Hot Topic and snag a couple of my favorite band's latest T-shirts. I like to buy the nice pair of earrings for fourty dollars for myself. But I'm not such an asshole that I don't think of anyone but myself. Why is humanity like this? My language arts teacher, bless her, had us watch a very opinionated political web video called "The Story of Stuff". You can find it on your favorite search engine and watch it yourself if you want to, I highly recommend it. Well, after seeing this, I knew it was focusing on only the bad stuff, and that it's just a lot of environmentalist hype, but it was pretty disgusting. To think that we waste that much crap . . . It just makes my teeth curl. My point is, just maybe if we all tried to be better individually, life'd be just that little bit better. And maybe it's that little bit that'd make all the world of difference. Maybe it'd make this life bearable. |