Well...what is there to say, really? I speak less than I write, and I write less than I read. I suppose that's not entirely true. I speak more than is truly necessary sometimes. But I also read more than is necessarily healthy... Which is the fault? You decide. My writing is limited to my own skills and knowledge, which, I must say, are quite lacking. I am yet young in this world, and liking it less every minute. I am not necessarily dissilusioned, for I have realized many of the terrible things that this world is...but I don't think that I truly understood them. I suppose that this isn't really making any sort of sense. Then it is the perfect introduction that you can have for me. I rarely make sense. Most of the things currently on here are quite old. I apologize, and hope to update it soon. I write in order to understand myself and others. I write to try to make sense of things, and what I write usually fails to make any sense at all. Read it if you wish, but I expect that you will only end up with a headache. Thank you for your time.
- Last seen on Aug 19 8:12 PM. Member since March 31, 2006.
- My mood is , and quote is "Love is friendship set to music".
- I am a 17 year old girl (United States)
- When I'm not writing, I'm a Student, a Musician, probably reading....
- I have 8 comments, 147 poems, 8 stories, 5 journals
My Stories
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I don’t know why I’m bothering to write, for lately it seems there is nothing to say. I’m at a loss for words and that is a rare occasion, especially when it comes to writing. I’ve become quiet on paper, and louder with voice600 words, November 23, 2008
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“A woman’s heart is as deep as the sea, and full of just as many secrets…” It is true. The sea is a treacherous and beautiful thing. Sometimes you can see straight to the bottom, and still not see anything at all. It is a mys300 words, 3 comments, November 23, 2008
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There is beauty in everything. There is beauty in this world that no one ever notices, or appreciates. The beauty of a bloom in Spring, or300 words, November 23, 2008
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I feel like typing. My hands are warm. Too warm. Maybe the air will cool them down. This is a dangerous mood. A mood where a single question could make me spill my guts out to anyone. A mood for strange stories of the past, s400 words, November 23, 2008
My Poetry
1 - 3 of 147
Show all at allpoetry
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<100 words, 4 comments, October 6
My other items
1 - 3 of 84
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- Troubled Sleep at allpoetry
She sleeps with roses on her cheek.
Her skin so soft, her breathing weak. - Distance at allpoetry
The distance between two lovers
is a gap that exist between two hands. - Daddy at allpoetry
Dear Daddy
do you remember me?
My journal entries
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Okay...this is a random journal that I hope will contain something in the semblance of sense. The wonderful thing about this journal is that it should not officially be happening. It's a strange feeling, and would be wonderful under different circumstances. I find myself in a certain dilemma. I'm losing whatever faitApril 20, 600 words. → Make first comment?
