Happyness
As the title suggests, I'm happy.
Despite being in a shitty little town, although there must remain until 22, I'm happy.
I made one of the most important things, I even cried. And I owe it all to a certain Roleplayer.
Damn woman, you made me the greatest gift I could imagine.
Kiitos, Su-san. \u0026lt;3
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Age Of Empire 2.0a No Cd
Airplanes #2
Ho parlato con Sascha, e tutti i dubbi, le lacrime e le frustrazioni che avevo riversato su Sugar, quella notte alla Village, sembrano andate via.
Aspetto il fine settimana per vedere cosa accadrà, e dopo il fine settimana, il giorno in cui I'll talk about the truly open-heart surgery.
It 's like if you do not even render account of what he says, how he treats me. He is no exaggeration to point
I do not care if it is with others, I will, expect, to be treated differently. If not where he is struggling to feed all that love in words?
I hate people who get angry and yell. They remind me of my father in his endless quarrels with my mother, the constant punishment when I did something wrong. Or when I said something wrong.
I am convinced that my sensitivity is also from this. As soon as I hear someone screaming I can not do just close your eyes, cover my ears, begin to cry. Because I do not want to hear those people screaming, swearing that you vomit on him.
Where is written that we can not educate without screaming and beating? Monkey
are shocked when I say it's a right way to educate and we educate his children without problems. In those moments my heart was crying, I gotta catch heavily to not cry at first. I would do anything not to give life to someone else what it was hell for me, from what I have always wanted to run away and then when I ran away.
If he really did it, with its I mean children, I shall become the aunt who comforts that make you laugh, which rendered in different ways.
's why I find myself screaming hurt by Sascha. Because his exaggerations scare me. I can not waste time ... If in future we married and he treated in this way my children, I escaped. Not be approached again. All
describe me as pretty . Not because I am very pretty, absolutely, but the calm and grace with which I speak. With the low tone that distinguishes a conversation with an adult Ineco than cheerful and happy that I use with those who know me always, and my friends. How much time I wasted
to learn that the grace and calm ... that "do not get anything from scratch", that tone that challenges the caller to say what he wants, because I'll always be a considered response and class.
Days and days locked in my solitude, to reason with myself, learning to observe everything, to find out the minimal differences everywhere.
With a smile as I remember: Alessio. That day at school, fourth year, few people in class, probably because of a strike, which came out in the discourse parents.
In her comment that made me raise my head, "After the fifth I leave the house, that my father ... "
I looked, he was sitting at my desk, the faces were 20 cm away, and do not know why everything I knew to say was" You too ... ?. He smiled, with his beautiful face and nodded. Then he lifted his shirt and showed me the sign on the side of "The handle of the broom," he said. "He joked," I replied, because in my comparison was a complaint by girl "No, but it is not always the case, only went there heavy." You would have believed him? I saw sincerity in his eyes. I saw the love that forgives all. "He never did, it's just happened, did not even want." I kept looking at him and then I snapped. We were in class five more prof. Ferrara, all have heard me because I started screaming, that was one of my crisis. Then the professor got up, took my hands, looked at me, hugged me and said "Claire, Claire, we love you, calm down."
This scene does not remember any of this. I only remember what the prof and Alessio. Maybe Michael next to me, that day. Alex's eyes, his hand on his shoulder.
E 'was born there, the respect we have for one another, pictures from time to time, the exchange of the issues, the discussions "hear you because I respect you but I will never share, glances every morning, every now and then kiss.
But it's always been enough to know that was there, someone who understood all along the line what I meant.
I never told anyone why? and what? on Alessio. Now everything is easier. Can we pretend
Ho parlato con Sascha, e tutti i dubbi, le lacrime e le frustrazioni che avevo riversato su Sugar, quella notte alla Village, sembrano andate via.
Aspetto il fine settimana per vedere cosa accadrà, e dopo il fine settimana, il giorno in cui I'll talk about the truly open-heart surgery.
It 's like if you do not even render account of what he says, how he treats me. He is no exaggeration to point
I do not care if it is with others, I will, expect, to be treated differently. If not where he is struggling to feed all that love in words?
I hate people who get angry and yell. They remind me of my father in his endless quarrels with my mother, the constant punishment when I did something wrong. Or when I said something wrong.
I am convinced that my sensitivity is also from this. As soon as I hear someone screaming I can not do just close your eyes, cover my ears, begin to cry. Because I do not want to hear those people screaming, swearing that you vomit on him.
Where is written that we can not educate without screaming and beating? Monkey
are shocked when I say it's a right way to educate and we educate his children without problems. In those moments my heart was crying, I gotta catch heavily to not cry at first. I would do anything not to give life to someone else what it was hell for me, from what I have always wanted to run away and then when I ran away.
If he really did it, with its I mean children, I shall become the aunt who comforts that make you laugh, which rendered in different ways.
's why I find myself screaming hurt by Sascha. Because his exaggerations scare me. I can not waste time ... If in future we married and he treated in this way my children, I escaped. Not be approached again. All
describe me as pretty . Not because I am very pretty, absolutely, but the calm and grace with which I speak. With the low tone that distinguishes a conversation with an adult Ineco than cheerful and happy that I use with those who know me always, and my friends. How much time I wasted
to learn that the grace and calm ... that "do not get anything from scratch", that tone that challenges the caller to say what he wants, because I'll always be a considered response and class.
Days and days locked in my solitude, to reason with myself, learning to observe everything, to find out the minimal differences everywhere.
With a smile as I remember: Alessio. That day at school, fourth year, few people in class, probably because of a strike, which came out in the discourse parents.
In her comment that made me raise my head, "After the fifth I leave the house, that my father ... "
I looked, he was sitting at my desk, the faces were 20 cm away, and do not know why everything I knew to say was" You too ... ?. He smiled, with his beautiful face and nodded. Then he lifted his shirt and showed me the sign on the side of "The handle of the broom," he said. "He joked," I replied, because in my comparison was a complaint by girl "No, but it is not always the case, only went there heavy." You would have believed him? I saw sincerity in his eyes. I saw the love that forgives all. "He never did, it's just happened, did not even want." I kept looking at him and then I snapped. We were in class five more prof. Ferrara, all have heard me because I started screaming, that was one of my crisis. Then the professor got up, took my hands, looked at me, hugged me and said "Claire, Claire, we love you, calm down."
This scene does not remember any of this. I only remember what the prof and Alessio. Maybe Michael next to me, that day. Alex's eyes, his hand on his shoulder.
E 'was born there, the respect we have for one another, pictures from time to time, the exchange of the issues, the discussions "hear you because I respect you but I will never share, glances every morning, every now and then kiss.
But it's always been enough to know that was there, someone who understood all along the line what I meant.
I never told anyone why? and what? on Alessio. Now everything is easier. Can we pretend
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Cost Of Espadrilles In Barcelona
Even the sheets carried the smell of gunpowder [Pirate! Arthur centric]
Title of chapter: And also sheets carried the smell of gunpowder.
Characters: Arthur Kirkland
Rating: Orange
FOOTNOTES Introspective / Angst
Disclaimer: characters, places and habits are the property of Sensei Himaruya, the writing and situations are my property.
. And even the sheets carried the smell of gunpowder.
No, could not classify it as a stink. Because there was nothing unpleasant, at least on his part, was a strong and persistent smell, which could make him feel happy and proud. The only problem is that, over time, was penetrated in the plots of clothes, the wood of the ship, even in the paper nautical charts.
A smell of salt air, blood and gunpowder, who accompanied Captain Arthur Kirkland and his crew every second of their lives. You might say worrying, but Arthur did. Inegrante made him feel part of the sea, its life, its people. The ears were instead
pervarse by the roar of cannons, from the pop guns and dry by the sound of swords drawn against enemies attacking the ship returned to her mind as frames, each moment of glory was imprinted in his heart as a brand to focus on of a slave. Everything so
imposing, impressive on the ship that seemed to want to conquer the seas, preventing thanks to men like no other that Spain take dominion over the world, all so brittle . Ages that pass, interests and changing clothes should be rotting in a closet or, worse, to be complicit in an attic of memory and the fading glory of an era that had no place in the world.
entered the cabin full of tools, charts and may lead to the end of the world , clothes, swords and trophies of the battles where he was always the first to jump on the deck of the ship. He smiled, letting his hat decorated with feathers softly ended on a trunk, slipped his jacket on the floor with a rustle, raising a little dust, the sword rang just after Arthur stuck in the globe, like the worst hardened captains and pirates. The body of English
dropped on soft sheets, the thoughts were absorbed by the weave of the fabric and the eyes were closed all'arrivare sleep.
Dream, Arthur.
The wood under your feet, the sparks of clashing swords, the sound of the shell destroyed the power of the guns, the shouts to his men, the smell of blood that is imprinted on your skin! The glory that wraps like a cloak, knowledge of be useful to the queen and your country, the love of your own men! The
glory that never come back again. Aseptic guns, a corrosive climate of hatred and frightening.
No more rolling of ships, no more salt, no more blood on the wood.
risk death because of the edge of a sword is perhaps less noble than the risk in a dark and earthy trench? Without
kiss from the sun again, Captain Arthur Kirkland. Leaves an imprint on this earth, let this period be remembered as the golden era from the harness! Let the memories will not disappear from the men killed for honor, men whose bodies were never at home!
And then, when the sword is rusty, let it fall.
Tling.
Title of chapter: And also sheets carried the smell of gunpowder.
Characters: Arthur Kirkland
Rating: Orange
FOOTNOTES Introspective / Angst
Disclaimer: characters, places and habits are the property of Sensei Himaruya, the writing and situations are my property.
. And even the sheets carried the smell of gunpowder.
No, could not classify it as a stink. Because there was nothing unpleasant, at least on his part, was a strong and persistent smell, which could make him feel happy and proud. The only problem is that, over time, was penetrated in the plots of clothes, the wood of the ship, even in the paper nautical charts.
A smell of salt air, blood and gunpowder, who accompanied Captain Arthur Kirkland and his crew every second of their lives. You might say worrying, but Arthur did. Inegrante made him feel part of the sea, its life, its people. The ears were instead
pervarse by the roar of cannons, from the pop guns and dry by the sound of swords drawn against enemies attacking the ship returned to her mind as frames, each moment of glory was imprinted in his heart as a brand to focus on of a slave. Everything so
imposing, impressive on the ship that seemed to want to conquer the seas, preventing thanks to men like no other that Spain take dominion over the world, all so brittle . Ages that pass, interests and changing clothes should be rotting in a closet or, worse, to be complicit in an attic of memory and the fading glory of an era that had no place in the world.
entered the cabin full of tools, charts and may lead to the end of the world , clothes, swords and trophies of the battles where he was always the first to jump on the deck of the ship. He smiled, letting his hat decorated with feathers softly ended on a trunk, slipped his jacket on the floor with a rustle, raising a little dust, the sword rang just after Arthur stuck in the globe, like the worst hardened captains and pirates. The body of English
dropped on soft sheets, the thoughts were absorbed by the weave of the fabric and the eyes were closed all'arrivare sleep.
Dream, Arthur.
The wood under your feet, the sparks of clashing swords, the sound of the shell destroyed the power of the guns, the shouts to his men, the smell of blood that is imprinted on your skin! The glory that wraps like a cloak, knowledge of be useful to the queen and your country, the love of your own men! The
glory that never come back again. Aseptic guns, a corrosive climate of hatred and frightening.
No more rolling of ships, no more salt, no more blood on the wood.
risk death because of the edge of a sword is perhaps less noble than the risk in a dark and earthy trench? Without
kiss from the sun again, Captain Arthur Kirkland. Leaves an imprint on this earth, let this period be remembered as the golden era from the harness! Let the memories will not disappear from the men killed for honor, men whose bodies were never at home!
And then, when the sword is rusty, let it fall.
Tling.
. Finish.
I am very proud of this history, it will be because I was fomented ° _ °
However, it is dedicated to my senpai Edward, with love. \u0026lt;3
However, it is dedicated to my senpai Edward, with love. \u0026lt;3
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Yellow Unitard For Sale
chastes Most que il est de nous tous profanons-AyanamixLabrador-
Title: The est de Most chastes profanons que nous tous.
Rating: Orange
Genre: Introspective /
Angst Warnings: Yaoi / One-shot
Characters / Pairing: Labrador Ayanami, Castor / Ayanami x Labrador Castor + Labrador
FOOTNOTES The title is loosely taken from a poem of Charles Baudelaire's youth, the translation would be: We all profane word caste.
The hours before dawn are surely the more smoky the whole night. The world goes down a curtain of cold silence, the sun shyly begins to shed its rays are cut off from the sky is still covered by the cloak of night.
are cold, those hours, people who sleep in the beds is curled up between the sheets in search of warmth that those hours of death seem to suck. The right time to allow evil to enter into what is pure, in what at the moment can not defend themselves because frozen in its beauty obscene.
Labrador had a nasty tendency to sleep a little during the night. Perhaps because he was too busy looking forward , too lost in thought for even one second to look after sleep, in vain, tried to woo her with flattery. Most likely those sweet hours of solitude were necessary-except then be scolded by Castor to sleep as soon as they pecked-out; usually all ended with her falling asleep, finally, just when the sun rose.
And that night they were taking different characters from the previous ones, will soon be dropped in the garden, he would fall asleep under the tree, it would have been scolded by Castor and business as usual. A sigh, he was snatched in front of quell'abitudinarietà so cruel, he could not but be pleased at the bottom of something else would mean war, but the fact remained that it was boring at times.
A gust of wind stronger than the others lifted him from the meditations. He had seen something move in the room, furtive and silent as a shadow as the wind itself. But there was nothing to the window, only the huge white curtains fluttering in the wind chill.
semblance of calm that was broken by a sigh that shattered against the ear of the prophet as the waves on the rocks infragono. I immediately recognized the scent he carried with him: the scent of cemeteries, chrysanthemums stained with blood.
A shudder ran through the back, as if he had something under the skin was a sickening feeling as the fingers began to play with her hair.
"At last we meet again, Profe."
Ayanami. It was like playing with a snake, having to do with him. In every moment always the possibility to rebel and attack you from anywhere he wants, then inject poison to make you submissive. Or kill you.
and Labrador felt for a moment, all those feelings. His breath, his fingers, the warmth of his body. Everything about him recalled something treacherous, almost immortal, and awesome. He had a violent jerk forward, so that the chair was overturned on the ground with a crash. He did not bother to wake the others, indeed, if it occurred Castor might have been better.
His eyes, while staring at the tall figure and cruel, had lost all traces of the mask he was wearing usually good-natured, were harsh, stern, old. The muscles tense, ready for any effort just to save his life. Yet his gaze abruptly changed: a closer look there was nobody in front of him, only the darkness that enveloped the dark corners of the room. He swallowed, relaxes the muscles of the arms, that it was just a feeling? Or worse ... a premonition?
He was able to confirm this very soon, yes, because those hands that had previously only imagined clung to his life as strongly as tongs and cold as well. The long, cruel fingers left no way out, the body of Labrador was brought against her without having the possibility to rebel. He was all happening too fast, had made the mistake of relaxation. He was the sin of pride, he thought it was just a play of his imagination.
The anxiety and terror in its most insidious, slowly took possession of his body and his mind. He had to defend himself, yes, but my muscles would not obey his command. The vocal cords were not moving, did not want to give that cry that perhaps would have saved. He could not call anyone, could not call Castor. It was simply trouble. They stayed
both properties for several seconds, during which Ayanami did nothing more than breath against his ear. He did it on purpose, most likely, and with each breath followed by a shiver Lab
finally found the courage to speak, if only to distract him from whatever it was he doing there.
"Verloren ... What did you do? "His voice, though weak, was firm and full of a considerable threat. He knew he was not able to kill him alone, but at least wanted to give the illusion can do it. Paid no attention to the trickle of sweat ran fast on the back, was not the time to show fear.
The only answer that was given was a cruel laugh, and the feeling of a face pressed against her hair. He heard the man behind him their breath odor, felt her hands move so as to make it run, so he could be one hundred percent sure that it was just Ayanami. His eyes, in those hours, he was sharp as a handful of pins, seemed to probe the soul and tear it to shreds shred. She gave him sick. A grin
cut her face, like a wound procured by a sharp sword, the words that came from those lips were thin, perhaps, the worst that Labrador had ever heard.
"I came to taste, Profe."
There was only one thing that, according to Labrador, Ayanami could want from him. He began to think possible ways to escape, to which weapon to use at least reduce it to impotence, but something prevented him from doing anything else. Those cruel lips were laid on his neck, had discovered that the teeth were embedded in the meat tender and white. Like a snake, he was savoring the prey before the meal, he could feel the tongue dart on the skin, could suppress the wave of disgust that's mounted inside. But what he was trying to do? Play?
He tried to push him away with one hand, and he succeeded; Ayanami took along a trickle of blood from his chin dirty quell'antipasto terrible. It was pretty gruesome image, like a horror book focuses on vampires.
pity that usually being bitten was a beautiful virgin, and not a Ghost.
The blood flowed in ever smaller, the bite, but the pain still remained. It was not a pleasant feeling, but what followed was even worse. He could not feel the movement, Labrador, the only thing I could understand was found lying on his bed, immersed in the sheets that were almost untouched, with the man straight to his face.
Their eyes were too close, the danger itself was too close.
meant something, any kind of thing that would be able to send away and it disappears. He tried to drive his own power, but a rapid movement she stopped him; Ayanami had narrow wrists, so hard to break.
'... Verloren, stop it. "
words clearly unnecessary, the of Ayanami mouth opened wide, or better, the cold, cruel lips came to rest on those with too much vehemence of Labrador, making it sound like the kiss a bit. It was an unacceptable situation, that gesture was not to happen, especially between the two of them. But how?
Labrador felt, little by little, more and more dirty. Every second that passed under his body and under the pressure of the lips and equivalent to a thousand more years under the auspices of Hell, the destruction of his soul a hundred times. An experience that I would not want anyone, an experience that was scoring more than necessary.
Then, the overwhelming presence was replaced in the fresh evening air. Like it was a mistake on a drawing, wiped away by a rubber ... glasses?!
"Labrador, all right?"
Oh, that voice would be recognized as one of the dozens and dozens, even that touch, those arms, those lips that you took away every bit of darkness that until then had tried to overcome it and make it their own.
was in the arms of Castor, was to save him.
A little 'like a fairy tale, too bad that the fine words of the book had been desecrated and polluted a bit' too much. Almost to obscure part of the story.
This story has cost me BLOOD. . _.
Title: The est de Most chastes profanons que nous tous.
Rating: Orange
Genre: Introspective /
Angst Warnings: Yaoi / One-shot
Characters / Pairing: Labrador Ayanami, Castor / Ayanami x Labrador Castor + Labrador
FOOTNOTES The title is loosely taken from a poem of Charles Baudelaire's youth, the translation would be: We all profane word caste.
. Il est de Most chastes profanons que nous tous.
The hours before dawn are surely the more smoky the whole night. The world goes down a curtain of cold silence, the sun shyly begins to shed its rays are cut off from the sky is still covered by the cloak of night.
are cold, those hours, people who sleep in the beds is curled up between the sheets in search of warmth that those hours of death seem to suck. The right time to allow evil to enter into what is pure, in what at the moment can not defend themselves because frozen in its beauty obscene.
Labrador had a nasty tendency to sleep a little during the night. Perhaps because he was too busy looking forward , too lost in thought for even one second to look after sleep, in vain, tried to woo her with flattery. Most likely those sweet hours of solitude were necessary-except then be scolded by Castor to sleep as soon as they pecked-out; usually all ended with her falling asleep, finally, just when the sun rose.
And that night they were taking different characters from the previous ones, will soon be dropped in the garden, he would fall asleep under the tree, it would have been scolded by Castor and business as usual. A sigh, he was snatched in front of quell'abitudinarietà so cruel, he could not but be pleased at the bottom of something else would mean war, but the fact remained that it was boring at times.
A gust of wind stronger than the others lifted him from the meditations. He had seen something move in the room, furtive and silent as a shadow as the wind itself. But there was nothing to the window, only the huge white curtains fluttering in the wind chill.
semblance of calm that was broken by a sigh that shattered against the ear of the prophet as the waves on the rocks infragono. I immediately recognized the scent he carried with him: the scent of cemeteries, chrysanthemums stained with blood.
A shudder ran through the back, as if he had something under the skin was a sickening feeling as the fingers began to play with her hair.
"At last we meet again, Profe."
Ayanami. It was like playing with a snake, having to do with him. In every moment always the possibility to rebel and attack you from anywhere he wants, then inject poison to make you submissive. Or kill you.
and Labrador felt for a moment, all those feelings. His breath, his fingers, the warmth of his body. Everything about him recalled something treacherous, almost immortal, and awesome. He had a violent jerk forward, so that the chair was overturned on the ground with a crash. He did not bother to wake the others, indeed, if it occurred Castor might have been better.
His eyes, while staring at the tall figure and cruel, had lost all traces of the mask he was wearing usually good-natured, were harsh, stern, old. The muscles tense, ready for any effort just to save his life. Yet his gaze abruptly changed: a closer look there was nobody in front of him, only the darkness that enveloped the dark corners of the room. He swallowed, relaxes the muscles of the arms, that it was just a feeling? Or worse ... a premonition?
He was able to confirm this very soon, yes, because those hands that had previously only imagined clung to his life as strongly as tongs and cold as well. The long, cruel fingers left no way out, the body of Labrador was brought against her without having the possibility to rebel. He was all happening too fast, had made the mistake of relaxation. He was the sin of pride, he thought it was just a play of his imagination.
The anxiety and terror in its most insidious, slowly took possession of his body and his mind. He had to defend himself, yes, but my muscles would not obey his command. The vocal cords were not moving, did not want to give that cry that perhaps would have saved. He could not call anyone, could not call Castor. It was simply trouble. They stayed
both properties for several seconds, during which Ayanami did nothing more than breath against his ear. He did it on purpose, most likely, and with each breath followed by a shiver Lab
finally found the courage to speak, if only to distract him from whatever it was he doing there.
"Verloren ... What did you do? "His voice, though weak, was firm and full of a considerable threat. He knew he was not able to kill him alone, but at least wanted to give the illusion can do it. Paid no attention to the trickle of sweat ran fast on the back, was not the time to show fear.
The only answer that was given was a cruel laugh, and the feeling of a face pressed against her hair. He heard the man behind him their breath odor, felt her hands move so as to make it run, so he could be one hundred percent sure that it was just Ayanami. His eyes, in those hours, he was sharp as a handful of pins, seemed to probe the soul and tear it to shreds shred. She gave him sick. A grin
cut her face, like a wound procured by a sharp sword, the words that came from those lips were thin, perhaps, the worst that Labrador had ever heard.
"I came to taste, Profe."
There was only one thing that, according to Labrador, Ayanami could want from him. He began to think possible ways to escape, to which weapon to use at least reduce it to impotence, but something prevented him from doing anything else. Those cruel lips were laid on his neck, had discovered that the teeth were embedded in the meat tender and white. Like a snake, he was savoring the prey before the meal, he could feel the tongue dart on the skin, could suppress the wave of disgust that's mounted inside. But what he was trying to do? Play?
He tried to push him away with one hand, and he succeeded; Ayanami took along a trickle of blood from his chin dirty quell'antipasto terrible. It was pretty gruesome image, like a horror book focuses on vampires.
pity that usually being bitten was a beautiful virgin, and not a Ghost.
The blood flowed in ever smaller, the bite, but the pain still remained. It was not a pleasant feeling, but what followed was even worse. He could not feel the movement, Labrador, the only thing I could understand was found lying on his bed, immersed in the sheets that were almost untouched, with the man straight to his face.
Their eyes were too close, the danger itself was too close.
meant something, any kind of thing that would be able to send away and it disappears. He tried to drive his own power, but a rapid movement she stopped him; Ayanami had narrow wrists, so hard to break.
'... Verloren, stop it. "
words clearly unnecessary, the of Ayanami mouth opened wide, or better, the cold, cruel lips came to rest on those with too much vehemence of Labrador, making it sound like the kiss a bit. It was an unacceptable situation, that gesture was not to happen, especially between the two of them. But how?
Labrador felt, little by little, more and more dirty. Every second that passed under his body and under the pressure of the lips and equivalent to a thousand more years under the auspices of Hell, the destruction of his soul a hundred times. An experience that I would not want anyone, an experience that was scoring more than necessary.
Then, the overwhelming presence was replaced in the fresh evening air. Like it was a mistake on a drawing, wiped away by a rubber ... glasses?!
"Labrador, all right?"
Oh, that voice would be recognized as one of the dozens and dozens, even that touch, those arms, those lips that you took away every bit of darkness that until then had tried to overcome it and make it their own.
was in the arms of Castor, was to save him.
A little 'like a fairy tale, too bad that the fine words of the book had been desecrated and polluted a bit' too much. Almost to obscure part of the story.
. Finish.
This story has cost me BLOOD. . _.
Kates Playground Freee Mobile
Because each one of us has a part in his own heart of darkness.
do not know if the title suggests, I sincerely sbattoH, but I'm thinking of one thing.
And if ... go back to writing about D.Gray-Man?
Well, it fixed a stupid, taken this afternoon from a video by passatomi senpai.
I realized how much you love him, to what I hold to this manga. In fact I need to disconnect, it was becoming an obsession. Maybe
was the fault of the Lavi's face. I've seen, this was enough to give me a kind of kick in the ass and shout at me: Mitsu, you're crazy?!
I want to write about Lavi, and my Tyki Mikk.
At that time not enough er mature as a writer to understand how these two were complex.
Now I understand.
Now I want to return.
Without losing sight of my new loves. No, I could never. \u0026lt;3
do not know if the title suggests, I sincerely sbattoH, but I'm thinking of one thing.
And if ... go back to writing about D.Gray-Man?
Well, it fixed a stupid, taken this afternoon from a video by passatomi senpai.
I realized how much you love him, to what I hold to this manga. In fact I need to disconnect, it was becoming an obsession. Maybe
was the fault of the Lavi's face. I've seen, this was enough to give me a kind of kick in the ass and shout at me: Mitsu, you're crazy?!
I want to write about Lavi, and my Tyki Mikk.
At that time not enough er mature as a writer to understand how these two were complex.
Now I understand.
Now I want to return.
Without losing sight of my new loves. No, I could never. \u0026lt;3
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Incubation Period For Impetigo
Hymne à la beauté - MikagexTeito -
Category: Ghost 07
Rating: 16 +
Characters: Mikage, Teito Klein
Genre: Angst, Drama, Introspective
Notes: Flashfiction, Shonen-ai
was a very light, very strong. Almost blinding, and all made from pure white; happened to be the signal? Case had to go away from that world?
not that sorry, just that doing so could save the people around him. Ayanami would stop hurting them using his body as a means, to hurt a. ..
"Mikage! Mikage! "
That voice would have been able to recognize among a thousand others. It was the voice of his Teito! He was glad to hear it again, despite was soiled with a desperation that Mikage was sure, would not have abandoned for a long, long time.
Although his eyes were dazzled by the light so strong, Mikage also saw his friend running in his direction. His eyes were so intense at that moment, the opposite of when he had just met, the opposite of when they were together at the academy.
He opened his arms embracing the little body that he loved so much against his own. Was fading, dying, he felt. But it was sad, he carried in his heart just one big regret. But not to the family, or to the army to Teito same. Why
was unable to say aloud the two words that weighed on my heart for years, because he was not able to be a real man until the end. It had been written on the wall of the church, on the floors of the hallway, and he hoped that those bishops took him so good to read. He was not sure of being able to reincarnate, he was not sure I can remain physically close to Teito. He had to know, by golly!
Forgive Teito, for not being able, either then or now to confess my love.
~
"Mikageeee! Come on, leave me alone, I sleep, "
No way, another reached the nose of cushion Teito that practically dominated the heat, he lay on his bed in the vain hope of getting to sleep at four in the afternoon. Too bad we can not succeed, given the disturbing presence of Mikage, to avoid boredom had come to take a pillow.
"Teito Come on, if you sleep now and then I'm bored!"
And as he always did, recently, he climbed on the bed with the pillow of his hand. It was almost dangerous that view, but having your legs locked Teito could not help but suffer.
Or maybe not.
"Mikage!"
A low growl, and here's hands leapt to Teito Mikage, seized the bust-and-pillow-maybe that was launched from across the room almost immediately. " Gasped with the effort, he gasped directly against the lips of Mikage.
"Here. Now let me sleep. "Mikage
remained motionless in that position, the ears gradually tending toward magenta. The heart seemed to love him break out, those two words seemed to love him out by force from his lips. They were
months, now that he realized Teito to love. He loved his every gesture, every word, loved his eyes, he loved more than anything else her smile.
But he never found the courage to confess, probably the one to break Teito a friendship that was able to save his life. He
a smile, kissed his lips and went down to die faster than they had risen.
No, there never would have done.
~
That memory, occurred so unexpected, left him dumbfounded and shocked, almost. He had forgotten about that episode, what was near to tell him everything.
He wanted to do it now, but there was no time. They were calling him, had waited too long. It was time to go.
shook one last time the body of his Teito, which continued to call it desperate.
"Mikage! Mikageeee! "
Mikage And smiled, breathing in his scent one last time and impress upon her voice. A really nice last memory, without a doubt.
I love you, Teito.
And everything fell into the light.
Category: Ghost 07
Rating: 16 +
Characters: Mikage, Teito Klein
Genre: Angst, Drama, Introspective
Notes: Flashfiction, Shonen-ai
. Hymne à la beauté.
was a very light, very strong. Almost blinding, and all made from pure white; happened to be the signal? Case had to go away from that world?
not that sorry, just that doing so could save the people around him. Ayanami would stop hurting them using his body as a means, to hurt a. ..
"Mikage! Mikage! "
That voice would have been able to recognize among a thousand others. It was the voice of his Teito! He was glad to hear it again, despite was soiled with a desperation that Mikage was sure, would not have abandoned for a long, long time.
Although his eyes were dazzled by the light so strong, Mikage also saw his friend running in his direction. His eyes were so intense at that moment, the opposite of when he had just met, the opposite of when they were together at the academy.
He opened his arms embracing the little body that he loved so much against his own. Was fading, dying, he felt. But it was sad, he carried in his heart just one big regret. But not to the family, or to the army to Teito same. Why
was unable to say aloud the two words that weighed on my heart for years, because he was not able to be a real man until the end. It had been written on the wall of the church, on the floors of the hallway, and he hoped that those bishops took him so good to read. He was not sure of being able to reincarnate, he was not sure I can remain physically close to Teito. He had to know, by golly!
Forgive Teito, for not being able, either then or now to confess my love.
~
"Mikageeee! Come on, leave me alone, I sleep, "
No way, another reached the nose of cushion Teito that practically dominated the heat, he lay on his bed in the vain hope of getting to sleep at four in the afternoon. Too bad we can not succeed, given the disturbing presence of Mikage, to avoid boredom had come to take a pillow.
"Teito Come on, if you sleep now and then I'm bored!"
And as he always did, recently, he climbed on the bed with the pillow of his hand. It was almost dangerous that view, but having your legs locked Teito could not help but suffer.
Or maybe not.
"Mikage!"
A low growl, and here's hands leapt to Teito Mikage, seized the bust-and-pillow-maybe that was launched from across the room almost immediately. " Gasped with the effort, he gasped directly against the lips of Mikage.
"Here. Now let me sleep. "Mikage
remained motionless in that position, the ears gradually tending toward magenta. The heart seemed to love him break out, those two words seemed to love him out by force from his lips. They were
months, now that he realized Teito to love. He loved his every gesture, every word, loved his eyes, he loved more than anything else her smile.
But he never found the courage to confess, probably the one to break Teito a friendship that was able to save his life. He
a smile, kissed his lips and went down to die faster than they had risen.
No, there never would have done.
~
That memory, occurred so unexpected, left him dumbfounded and shocked, almost. He had forgotten about that episode, what was near to tell him everything.
He wanted to do it now, but there was no time. They were calling him, had waited too long. It was time to go.
shook one last time the body of his Teito, which continued to call it desperate.
"Mikage! Mikageeee! "
Mikage And smiled, breathing in his scent one last time and impress upon her voice. A really nice last memory, without a doubt.
I love you, Teito.
And everything fell into the light.
. Finish.
O * O * My first fic on Mikage, chebbelllo ç / / ç \u0026lt;3
Since the post is free, I'll say what I want, right? To me this is a
Mikage IC. For me, eh.
Then do what you like, but any offensive comments will not relate to the story deleted and will not answer.
Since the post is free, I'll say what I want, right? To me this is a
Mikage IC. For me, eh.
Then do what you like, but any offensive comments will not relate to the story deleted and will not answer.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Multiplication Chart 1 30
Airplanes
the airplanes in the night sky like shooting stars are
I Could really use a wish right
now wish wish right now right now ...
Then there are those moments when you would not want to think about anything. In which nothing should be. In which questions should be avoided with ease, as if they had never been asked.
E 'that I can not not think about not express myself, not to look at everything with objectivity.
Extreme, clinical Epulon. The feelings out, only room for reason. It 'annoying in a hallucinatory way.
're close to those who want, all without exception. Still missing. Something, those details that would make it even more perfect. But
than would be needed to shooting stars? Not even the sky Dubai sarebe enough.
What then, more perfect. It can be said? Objectively because the word "perfect" expresses a beautiful and comprehensive concept on its own. So you can actually have something better?
I wrote this intervention on the night between eleven and twelve. Now is the night of the nineteenth and the twentieth and correct it. More than anything I add.
go over it and I can not find, remember, reason, or rather, the subject understood why I wrote it.
then play back the song and feel why. But remember to properly do not talk.
Mind absurd. I should stop writing all these people leaving implied. But at the same time I can not do without, it's like my mind goes.
Yes, because when I read in a long time, I realize that what I wrote, which seemed so beautiful, in reality is pure rambling. I can not understand why I wrote it that way, because at that very moment what I wrote seemed to make sense. Often find it absurd, written by beta you feed lilyj and everyone knows the legend of lilyj frankness. She would not comment on, or worships or destroyed.
Somebody take me back to the days
Before this was a job
Before I got paid
Before it ever mattered what I had in my bank
Yeah back when I was tryin' to get a tip at Subway
And back when I was rappin' for the hell of it
But now days we rappin' to stay relevant
I'm guessin' that if we can make some wishes out of airplanes
Then maybe oh maybe I'll go back to the days
Before the politics that we call the rap game
And back when ain't nobody listened to my mix tapes
And back before I tried to cover up my slate
But this is for Decatur
What's up Bobby Ray?
So can I get a wish to end the politics
And get back to the music That started this shit
So here I stand And then again I say
I'm hopin 'we can Make Some wishes outta airplanes
I'm going to mention it all to end, how can I not? I'm hoping that we can express wishes with aircraft ...
Why use them much, because the song is sad. Why did you hit and sunk.
I can not really tell if the feeling is given by the voice of Hayley Williams or the words of the song. This woman has a voice so beautiful and varied ... treble and bass without any problems. Not that this
I can not do but no one ... I his bass is deep, shake you. You see, if Michelle Lea sang this song, lasciarebbe back everything. Because his voice is high and also in the bass and treble. Maybe that's why its so much patner sings in falsetto, or at least on a scale higher than normal. Or maybe it's because I
HW closed in a box called "rock-punk-stuff-that-short-breaks-no-musicals." To say that I did not recognize at the time.
I turned on the TV and the video begins, the titles already gone. Love the song I had to turn on the PC.
Entry into facebook I realize that Dani has already posted, then comment and not the place firsthand. I knew the voice of the singer, I had associated with "I caught myself, and then the hair .. but I was not sure. In short, HW in a duet? So I Googled and it was her.
I played only 3 times in a row, and then was banned because of a German without a heart who does not know what the feelings are. So now listen with earphones. Also because they are 4:20.
We can pretend that the plane / in the night sky / stars are falling? / I could really make a wish now.
And I continue to listen to it over and over again.
Because of the time, the thoughts in Italian is completely well in English? I do not want tirarmela I know English, it is only natural. It seems that in Italian there are no words that can express the concept so well.
And because the left arm continues to hurt this way? As the legs, like all those times that I have the impression that the blood does not flow, which may stop before all the damn leg numb the pain. I'm afraid. Maybe it's just cholesterol. It 's normal waking up with all these pains in my bones? I want and I do the allergy tests, analysis ... But if it were something more serious?
The fear of being deprived of food again and filled with these looks painful it makes me stay away from all those surgeries. The fear of return to running after the food, to have those hunger pangs again absurd makes me run away.
There is a light there, in the bottom of all this mess, called Dr. Amendola. I remember sitting in the chair, legs crossed on the chair, which I have done very rarely, I remember it fondly, I remember with deep pain. I remember how I cried in the study of that bitch's Cottage I scolded severely by the fact that I had not lost weight, remember how I cried in my bed because could not come from Dr. Amendola. I remember he gave me his note, should you have continue the sessions with her. I remember that Dad asked me and his angry face, waiting for an answer. That was a yes, in the form of a no. The form of tears, again.
What they do not inform me, about the reopening of my medical records, is the fact that my come to know him. And this would destroy me because I would fight with their eyes, with uncomfortable questions and silences.
And if you could tell me that in reality there is nothing to cure? That is just selfishness what I will be able to want to be looked like a normal person and not the pretty girl and nice but unfortunately fat.
Too often lately I wanted to raise a phone to get a good chat. But there was a refusal to receive the courage to not receive attention when I desperately needed.
Maybe I did, but I always ended the call due to commitments. I remember when you told me "I can not tell what will happen, and how to conduct myself then, but now there are. Take it as it comes. "
Most likely then that it arrived.
and then back on my feet alone. Again. Can we pretend
the airplanes in the night sky like shooting stars are
I Could really use right now
a wish wish wish right now right now ...
the airplanes in the night sky like shooting stars are
I Could really use a wish right
now wish wish right now right now ...
Then there are those moments when you would not want to think about anything. In which nothing should be. In which questions should be avoided with ease, as if they had never been asked.
E 'that I can not not think about not express myself, not to look at everything with objectivity.
Extreme, clinical Epulon. The feelings out, only room for reason. It 'annoying in a hallucinatory way.
're close to those who want, all without exception. Still missing. Something, those details that would make it even more perfect. But
than would be needed to shooting stars? Not even the sky Dubai sarebe enough.
What then, more perfect. It can be said? Objectively because the word "perfect" expresses a beautiful and comprehensive concept on its own. So you can actually have something better?
I wrote this intervention on the night between eleven and twelve. Now is the night of the nineteenth and the twentieth and correct it. More than anything I add.
go over it and I can not find, remember, reason, or rather, the subject understood why I wrote it.
then play back the song and feel why. But remember to properly do not talk.
Mind absurd. I should stop writing all these people leaving implied. But at the same time I can not do without, it's like my mind goes.
Yes, because when I read in a long time, I realize that what I wrote, which seemed so beautiful, in reality is pure rambling. I can not understand why I wrote it that way, because at that very moment what I wrote seemed to make sense. Often find it absurd, written by beta you feed lilyj and everyone knows the legend of lilyj frankness. She would not comment on, or worships or destroyed.
Somebody take me back to the days
Before this was a job
Before I got paid
Before it ever mattered what I had in my bank
Yeah back when I was tryin' to get a tip at Subway
And back when I was rappin' for the hell of it
But now days we rappin' to stay relevant
I'm guessin' that if we can make some wishes out of airplanes
Then maybe oh maybe I'll go back to the days
Before the politics that we call the rap game
And back when ain't nobody listened to my mix tapes
And back before I tried to cover up my slate
But this is for Decatur
What's up Bobby Ray?
So can I get a wish to end the politics
And get back to the music That started this shit
So here I stand And then again I say
I'm hopin 'we can Make Some wishes outta airplanes
I'm going to mention it all to end, how can I not? I'm hoping that we can express wishes with aircraft ...
Why use them much, because the song is sad. Why did you hit and sunk.
I can not really tell if the feeling is given by the voice of Hayley Williams or the words of the song. This woman has a voice so beautiful and varied ... treble and bass without any problems. Not that this
I can not do but no one ... I his bass is deep, shake you. You see, if Michelle Lea sang this song, lasciarebbe back everything. Because his voice is high and also in the bass and treble. Maybe that's why its so much patner sings in falsetto, or at least on a scale higher than normal. Or maybe it's because I
HW closed in a box called "rock-punk-stuff-that-short-breaks-no-musicals." To say that I did not recognize at the time.
I turned on the TV and the video begins, the titles already gone. Love the song I had to turn on the PC.
Entry into facebook I realize that Dani has already posted, then comment and not the place firsthand. I knew the voice of the singer, I had associated with "I caught myself, and then the hair .. but I was not sure. In short, HW in a duet? So I Googled and it was her.
I played only 3 times in a row, and then was banned because of a German without a heart who does not know what the feelings are. So now listen with earphones. Also because they are 4:20.
We can pretend that the plane / in the night sky / stars are falling? / I could really make a wish now.
And I continue to listen to it over and over again.
Because of the time, the thoughts in Italian is completely well in English? I do not want tirarmela I know English, it is only natural. It seems that in Italian there are no words that can express the concept so well.
And because the left arm continues to hurt this way? As the legs, like all those times that I have the impression that the blood does not flow, which may stop before all the damn leg numb the pain. I'm afraid. Maybe it's just cholesterol. It 's normal waking up with all these pains in my bones? I want and I do the allergy tests, analysis ... But if it were something more serious?
The fear of being deprived of food again and filled with these looks painful it makes me stay away from all those surgeries. The fear of return to running after the food, to have those hunger pangs again absurd makes me run away.
There is a light there, in the bottom of all this mess, called Dr. Amendola. I remember sitting in the chair, legs crossed on the chair, which I have done very rarely, I remember it fondly, I remember with deep pain. I remember how I cried in the study of that bitch's Cottage I scolded severely by the fact that I had not lost weight, remember how I cried in my bed because could not come from Dr. Amendola. I remember he gave me his note, should you have continue the sessions with her. I remember that Dad asked me and his angry face, waiting for an answer. That was a yes, in the form of a no. The form of tears, again.
What they do not inform me, about the reopening of my medical records, is the fact that my come to know him. And this would destroy me because I would fight with their eyes, with uncomfortable questions and silences.
And if you could tell me that in reality there is nothing to cure? That is just selfishness what I will be able to want to be looked like a normal person and not the pretty girl and nice but unfortunately fat.
Too often lately I wanted to raise a phone to get a good chat. But there was a refusal to receive the courage to not receive attention when I desperately needed.
Maybe I did, but I always ended the call due to commitments. I remember when you told me "I can not tell what will happen, and how to conduct myself then, but now there are. Take it as it comes. "
Most likely then that it arrived.
and then back on my feet alone. Again. Can we pretend
the airplanes in the night sky like shooting stars are
I Could really use right now
a wish wish wish right now right now ...
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Polaroid Impulse Yellow
Touches you
You think you're better
're Better Than Me
You blow me off as history
To Avoid conversation, you're ignoring me
Too much in one day.
Mika's concert, a show of the Plague and the birthday of Mark.
For peace in the family are going to last, though I did not want to, I could not wear the dress I wanted (because would be considered ridiculous by anyone), I could not wear the shirt I wanted because I put on weight again, which made me fall off a cliff.
I'm trying to eat better, which to me means a little better and a little better than not enough. Last July I had come to weigh, finally, after exhausting 72 kg (maybe) month of fasting, exercise and calorie counts. Two weeks in Italy I have enough to resume 6 kg and another 4 were added during the period when I let myself go, simply because I found someone who loved me for who I am, who I loved more than me itself. But the point is this: I do not like me. I want to lose weight, I want to be thin, I want to be a normal person, I will not be addidata, I do not want to look bad when I order at a restaurant, I do not want to be looked at as evil within a store, I do not want to be watched while I eat badly. I want to be able to walk to face higher, not caring what the rest says, because I'm perfect.
The fact that those who love me, I am already perfect, not comfort me much.
I do not like me there is nothing else to say.
do not have enough willpower to diet, which is why I find a warm and comforting refuge in fasting. Or better, even with the fasting, the situation is absurd because I can fast for two days (two really good days) but then have attacks of hunger that I just stop in front of a normal portion. And it's the same with the diet. I can follow advice and weights, but when I get an attack of hunger I eat. I can not help, I have to. The only solution at this moment is sleep. Why any other suggestions (including the ones Anam are fantastic even if I do not hold up) requires a force of will that I did not. Vanilla too easily, it breaks too easily. And the attack of hunger needs time to pass, and even when he is past and so easy to enjoy a snack and finish in an empty refrigerator.
sleep, fasting, ana, mia, are actually so dramatic and so beautiful that they ask you to give up everything else. You can not have them and someone else. Simply no. Because everyone around you is difficult to understand your needs and will accept, and agree to meet in a place where there is no food available, not comment on your own meals or let you sleep. No. Because I do is wrong and I realize, but it seems to me to keep things faster and easier to get out of my problems. Why
the rest can only comment and funny jokes that are not funny at all. And I laugh, Scherzer and we'll play the part that knows that you are fat and try to live with or who is slowly trying to get back to normal.
bother me, immensely, the meager who say they are fat. What I think is: Are you ever walked into a store and look for him because in all contracts that place is not there and there will never be anything about your size? No. Have you ever ordered a large portion because you're hungry, bed and disgust on the look of the waiter? No. Have you ever eaten with the eyes of people around you bet with huge crap on your plate? No. Have you ever been singled out or ridiculed for your body shape? No. SO DO NOT DARE TO SPEAK.
I tend not to judge, because there are none and I can not, but anyone who touches my sensitivity deserves to suffer. At least in my thoughts.
When You've Had Enough and you need somebody to know When you're looking tough
But you need a way to let it go
Come on now, what's a boy
Supposed To Do When I Can not Seem To Leave You Alone
Touching me touching you
My concept of normality is difficult to explain. For me it is normal to the model is too thin, in spite of envy, I can (perhaps) to understand the disease being so thin. Similarly it is not normal for me to be too fat, but only to see happiness in the eyes of the fat person ... then the class changes and becomes normal. But if you plainly saw happiness in the eyes of the person too thin for me ... would not normally. Maybe because I know that to be so skinny you should remove from it all and I can not leave my friends. And perhaps returns to normal for me to be fat and happy because it is a category in which I fall But I can not fix myself into it.
I want to be your brother, want to be your father too
Never make you run for cover
Even If They Want us to
I want to be your sister,
want to be your mother I want to be too
want Whatever else be
That Touches You
Whatever else
Whatever That Touches You else That Touches You
Very often I find myself thinking that I need help, a real help, recognizable in a food psychologist, but at the same time I do such a step would put me in comparison to the problems themselves. Why should I talk about it. And I can not speak. I can not talk without crying, and crying in front of others destroys me.
Why are they so complicated? Maybe because I've always been alone? Because I never had many friends, because I never open to someone so much until I attended the final year of high school? Why I abandoned the study, reading? Why was I abandoned the computer in the distant friends (who are the only ones I have) and in the world of fantasy? I have no idea.
I know that talking and thinking, although everyone says I'm a chatterbox (of chatter, but not all grasp the difference), I started analyzing everything around me, asking me millions of questions and imagine all possible scenarios regarding the most diverse situations.
For fear of losing, losing your way
Just stop and listen to the Things That They Say To Avoid confrontation
You walk away
Tonight I started writing because I'm reading a story where there are secrets, too, that hurt. Actually true that hurt. Juvenile abuse, bullying, sexual abuse of peers. My feeling always ends up out of it destroyed because I am too sensitive, or anything else, for each noise and emotion.
I started writing because I was reminded of two summers ago and endless phone calls, and of course because I was going.
Growing up When I need to compromise
When I've Had Enough 20 years and I Realize
Come on now, what's a boy Supposed to do When I can not
Seem To Leave You Alone
Touching me touching you
I have few friends, but they are good. Even if you do not feel for the dawn of time, always reveal the best in the world when I need something. Maybe they do not consider me a friend, but are important to me and I'd do anything for them.
There is one thing that I always wanted to talk about, is one of the most important people in my life, not only because it made me happy the male part of me, but because thanks to him I felt a happiness ; as few (this time not related to you). I have never spoken to him because he attended sincerely (-ava) this place. But what I did not speak, he made the LJ (assuming I want the clearest ever) an artifact, and I will not. I never spoke to him frankly why you attended, and I do not want to create problems. But I'm tired, and I must be relevant to myself. He will never get to read here at the end because you get bored in the third row. And 'well done, suits me, I love it. But she might read it. But who knows when. And who knows how to land if its ruminations without telling me.
Why I do what we understand in Monkey, but in reality, is one of two people I do not understand a shit. That leaves me in no doubt will, that does not ever answer, or maybe later. Maybe with acts that I will understand immediately (or ever). So you might as well speak of him, right?
Well, he was the person who made me feel like a woman. Maybe fooling around, but with his serious face, with his kisses on the neck with his hand constantly on my ass, made me feel attractive, and I was treated like all the other guys have always treated the other girls. Ways, words, attention, details that I have never been addressed. And then they made me feel alive. It made me feel appreciated as a girl, and that is normal way I want it near me, I want to send time with him, I want to continue to make YOU happy. Why are so perfect together that it hurts to watch.
is also irrelevant, annoying and selfish. It 's true. It is not a mask affibilità continues to be nice or pleasant at all, absolutely not. He is so direct in everything we think, feel and see and sente.Lui says it, does not care about anything, it made me laugh so true happiness and be proud of him even though I'm nobody and I know very little. I love him, I can not do anything. Broke through into my heart with his sharp words and glances. All right, because it's true.
I want to be your brother, want to be your father too
Never make you run for cover
Even If They Want us to
I want to be your sister,
want to be your mother I want to be too
want Whatever else be
That Touches You
When You've Had Enough
and you need somebody to know When you're looking tough
But You need a way to let it go
Come on now, what's Supposed to do a boy
But I can not Seem To Leave You Alone
Touching me touching you
next Saturday before going out dancing with my friends, I'll go to another happy family gathering because it is the birthday of her grandmother. I do not want (especially to translate stupid things to Sascha, who will be the attraction of the evening), I can not wear the dress I want, wear what you definitely do not fall down as I want because I'm FAT.
You think you're better
're Better Than Me
You blow me off as history
To Avoid conversation, you're ignoring me
Too much in one day.
Mika's concert, a show of the Plague and the birthday of Mark.
For peace in the family are going to last, though I did not want to, I could not wear the dress I wanted (because would be considered ridiculous by anyone), I could not wear the shirt I wanted because I put on weight again, which made me fall off a cliff.
I'm trying to eat better, which to me means a little better and a little better than not enough. Last July I had come to weigh, finally, after exhausting 72 kg (maybe) month of fasting, exercise and calorie counts. Two weeks in Italy I have enough to resume 6 kg and another 4 were added during the period when I let myself go, simply because I found someone who loved me for who I am, who I loved more than me itself. But the point is this: I do not like me. I want to lose weight, I want to be thin, I want to be a normal person, I will not be addidata, I do not want to look bad when I order at a restaurant, I do not want to be looked at as evil within a store, I do not want to be watched while I eat badly. I want to be able to walk to face higher, not caring what the rest says, because I'm perfect.
The fact that those who love me, I am already perfect, not comfort me much.
I do not like me there is nothing else to say.
do not have enough willpower to diet, which is why I find a warm and comforting refuge in fasting. Or better, even with the fasting, the situation is absurd because I can fast for two days (two really good days) but then have attacks of hunger that I just stop in front of a normal portion. And it's the same with the diet. I can follow advice and weights, but when I get an attack of hunger I eat. I can not help, I have to. The only solution at this moment is sleep. Why any other suggestions (including the ones Anam are fantastic even if I do not hold up) requires a force of will that I did not. Vanilla too easily, it breaks too easily. And the attack of hunger needs time to pass, and even when he is past and so easy to enjoy a snack and finish in an empty refrigerator.
sleep, fasting, ana, mia, are actually so dramatic and so beautiful that they ask you to give up everything else. You can not have them and someone else. Simply no. Because everyone around you is difficult to understand your needs and will accept, and agree to meet in a place where there is no food available, not comment on your own meals or let you sleep. No. Because I do is wrong and I realize, but it seems to me to keep things faster and easier to get out of my problems. Why
the rest can only comment and funny jokes that are not funny at all. And I laugh, Scherzer and we'll play the part that knows that you are fat and try to live with or who is slowly trying to get back to normal.
bother me, immensely, the meager who say they are fat. What I think is: Are you ever walked into a store and look for him because in all contracts that place is not there and there will never be anything about your size? No. Have you ever ordered a large portion because you're hungry, bed and disgust on the look of the waiter? No. Have you ever eaten with the eyes of people around you bet with huge crap on your plate? No. Have you ever been singled out or ridiculed for your body shape? No. SO DO NOT DARE TO SPEAK.
I tend not to judge, because there are none and I can not, but anyone who touches my sensitivity deserves to suffer. At least in my thoughts.
When You've Had Enough and you need somebody to know When you're looking tough
But you need a way to let it go
Come on now, what's a boy
Supposed To Do When I Can not Seem To Leave You Alone
Touching me touching you
My concept of normality is difficult to explain. For me it is normal to the model is too thin, in spite of envy, I can (perhaps) to understand the disease being so thin. Similarly it is not normal for me to be too fat, but only to see happiness in the eyes of the fat person ... then the class changes and becomes normal. But if you plainly saw happiness in the eyes of the person too thin for me ... would not normally. Maybe because I know that to be so skinny you should remove from it all and I can not leave my friends. And perhaps returns to normal for me to be fat and happy because it is a category in which I fall But I can not fix myself into it.
I want to be your brother, want to be your father too
Never make you run for cover
Even If They Want us to
I want to be your sister,
want to be your mother I want to be too
want Whatever else be
That Touches You
Whatever else
Whatever That Touches You else That Touches You
Very often I find myself thinking that I need help, a real help, recognizable in a food psychologist, but at the same time I do such a step would put me in comparison to the problems themselves. Why should I talk about it. And I can not speak. I can not talk without crying, and crying in front of others destroys me.
Why are they so complicated? Maybe because I've always been alone? Because I never had many friends, because I never open to someone so much until I attended the final year of high school? Why I abandoned the study, reading? Why was I abandoned the computer in the distant friends (who are the only ones I have) and in the world of fantasy? I have no idea.
I know that talking and thinking, although everyone says I'm a chatterbox (of chatter, but not all grasp the difference), I started analyzing everything around me, asking me millions of questions and imagine all possible scenarios regarding the most diverse situations.
For fear of losing, losing your way
Just stop and listen to the Things That They Say To Avoid confrontation
You walk away
Tonight I started writing because I'm reading a story where there are secrets, too, that hurt. Actually true that hurt. Juvenile abuse, bullying, sexual abuse of peers. My feeling always ends up out of it destroyed because I am too sensitive, or anything else, for each noise and emotion.
I started writing because I was reminded of two summers ago and endless phone calls, and of course because I was going.
Growing up When I need to compromise
When I've Had Enough 20 years and I Realize
Come on now, what's a boy Supposed to do When I can not
Seem To Leave You Alone
Touching me touching you
I have few friends, but they are good. Even if you do not feel for the dawn of time, always reveal the best in the world when I need something. Maybe they do not consider me a friend, but are important to me and I'd do anything for them.
There is one thing that I always wanted to talk about, is one of the most important people in my life, not only because it made me happy the male part of me, but because thanks to him I felt a happiness ; as few (this time not related to you). I have never spoken to him because he attended sincerely (-ava) this place. But what I did not speak, he made the LJ (assuming I want the clearest ever) an artifact, and I will not. I never spoke to him frankly why you attended, and I do not want to create problems. But I'm tired, and I must be relevant to myself. He will never get to read here at the end because you get bored in the third row. And 'well done, suits me, I love it. But she might read it. But who knows when. And who knows how to land if its ruminations without telling me.
Why I do what we understand in Monkey, but in reality, is one of two people I do not understand a shit. That leaves me in no doubt will, that does not ever answer, or maybe later. Maybe with acts that I will understand immediately (or ever). So you might as well speak of him, right?
Well, he was the person who made me feel like a woman. Maybe fooling around, but with his serious face, with his kisses on the neck with his hand constantly on my ass, made me feel attractive, and I was treated like all the other guys have always treated the other girls. Ways, words, attention, details that I have never been addressed. And then they made me feel alive. It made me feel appreciated as a girl, and that is normal way I want it near me, I want to send time with him, I want to continue to make YOU happy. Why are so perfect together that it hurts to watch.
is also irrelevant, annoying and selfish. It 's true. It is not a mask affibilità continues to be nice or pleasant at all, absolutely not. He is so direct in everything we think, feel and see and sente.Lui says it, does not care about anything, it made me laugh so true happiness and be proud of him even though I'm nobody and I know very little. I love him, I can not do anything. Broke through into my heart with his sharp words and glances. All right, because it's true.
I want to be your brother, want to be your father too
Never make you run for cover
Even If They Want us to
I want to be your sister,
want to be your mother I want to be too
want Whatever else be
That Touches You
When You've Had Enough
and you need somebody to know When you're looking tough
But You need a way to let it go
Come on now, what's Supposed to do a boy
But I can not Seem To Leave You Alone
Touching me touching you
next Saturday before going out dancing with my friends, I'll go to another happy family gathering because it is the birthday of her grandmother. I do not want (especially to translate stupid things to Sascha, who will be the attraction of the evening), I can not wear the dress I want, wear what you definitely do not fall down as I want because I'm FAT.
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