Can you handle it?

Can you handle it if we go against the crowd?

what if we push back when we're pushed around?

Blessing in disguise.

I'm too blessed to be stressed.

I am so lucky.
And I never appreciate what I have near enough.

Classic.

What does it matter?
It doesn't even matter.
Well, yes, it matters to me.
And that's what counts.

All you need is love.

Love. Love.
Love is all you need.

Haha.

Ha.

Put a smile on your face.
It makes the world a better place...because if we can endure it.
So can you.

Hearts Frozen Solid, Thawed Once More By The Spring Of Rage, Despair And Hopelessness.

Trust.

Trust people. You will be let down.
Don't trust people. You will let yourself down.

Life is a bipolar person on a rollercoaster.
Life is a complete hypocrite.
Life is not fair. Ever.
Life is impossible.
Life is death.

Love your hate.

Good vs. Evil

Have you ever felt like you were living a double life? You don't necessarily have to have two completely different families that you switch back and forth between that neither family knows about. I'm talking about, you, being two people.

As for me, yes. And I don't know what it means. But it just is. Sometimes they dissolve into each other, and I can't really tell that there's two of me, that's when I think I'm normal. But then there is how my life usually is. One minute I'm the good Christian girl, so passionate about God. The next, I'm this other girl. The "average" teen, if there ever was such a thing. The first is strong, loving, fun, loud, ready to learn. The other is insecure, hopeless, lost, dissinterested, bored, creative, a painter, a writer, a musician. One is bright colors, one is black. One is smiling, one has fear in her eyes. These two different people switch on and off, and it's terrifying. In a spilt second the switch is flipped, who am I now? Do the people I am with like this person? How well can I hide the switch? The only thing worse than the lows are the highs. The highs are nice while they last, but they will just be cut down by a violent low. The lows are nicer, because I feel real. I feel pain. Beauty. Loss. Suffering. Creativity. Raw emotions. Instead of those uncomfortable highs of bliss, a false glimmer of hope. And everytime they come, I pray they will stay, but they never do. No one understands, they say it's normal. And yes, it may very well be "normal" like they say, but either way, whether everyone feels this way or it's just me, the double life sucks. I just want to be one person. One whole, real person.

Medicate.

Way too much going on in AFI world to even begin to comprehend.
I think my brain will explode.

Nobody's perfect.

Don't let your past determine your future.

Help!

I need somebody. Help.

What do you do when the one thing that is killing you is also the one thing that is keeping you alive?

So, simple and innocent.

Like apple and cinnamon.

Sometimes things don't make sense.
Oh well.
No big deal.
Stop trying to explain everything. Just enjoy life's miracles instead of analyzing and rationalizing everything. You'll find that once you let go of the things that are holding you back, you will truly find your purpose.

Time Stands Still.

When my soul leaves, it's completely silent and completely peaceful.

Most people I know have never experienced this feeling. It's quite nice. Like your soul escapes your body, for just a moment, and its perfect. Your body just drags down your soul, and for that moment where your soul is body-less, there is nothing better. For your flesh is a gateway to sinful desires. My body is filled with hate, anger, insecurities. But my soul, it is filled with love, compassion, peace. And nothing feels better then your soul being lifted away, and the hate is gone. For a split second, love is the only thing you know.

It's all over.

If your looking for a sign. This is it.

So much for my happy ending,

Don't leave me hanging in a city so dead, held up so high on such unbreakable thread.

There is this completely obvious line between happy and sad, and everyone knows it's there. They're total opposites, a long way from each other. Then, if that's true, how come it is so hard to find that line. So, hard to find the other side. Yes, depression, anxiety, emo-kid-ness, bummed, morose, down, low, dejected, lost, spiritless, hopeless, are all emotions. Everyone drags sometimes, but when you no longer know what happiness is there is a real problem. Now, I'm not saying I have no reason to be happy. I have God, a family, great friends, and everything I need, but that doesn't create happiness, or the feeling of being wanted or needed, or even like your good enough. Truth be told, I'm not good enough, no one is, but I'm never enough. Never nice enough, pretty enough, smart enough, friendly enough, strong enough, I'm just never good enough. And I know that no one is perfect, but when I'm surrounded by people who are better than me at EVERYTHING it starts to weigh down on you. (Especially when one person has to one-up you in everything, and they don't mean to do it, but they do. And I will never be good enough. They have everything I want, the family I want, the friends I want, the fact that everyone likes them, they have the talent I want, the looks that I want, the recognition I want, even the boy I want. They have absolutely everything I want, and I'll flat out admit the fact that I'm jealous, but this has absolutely nothing with what I'm trying to say.)
Once you've fallen so deep, you forget what happiness feels like. (And eventually, you will regain the happiness you deserve, I promise, it does get better.) But, honestly, I'm scared of being happy. It's uncomfortable. It's not normal. It only causes even more problems. I DON'T WANT TO BE HAPPY! It makes me lose my creativity. It makes me lose my sanity. It makes me lose the one thing that holds me together. Every second that I am happy, it terrifies me, because I know that depression will sneak up in a few moments. It doesn't last.

For, this too shall pass.

Gum. Nail biting. &Kylie.

'How did you get here under my skin. I swore that I'd never let you back in."

Once you start, you won't be able to stop. You can't say no. Because the minute you let something or someone in you have given it a key. Then it can come back whenever it wants. No amount of self-control will be able to stop it. And even if you push it away. Eventually it will get back in. And there it will stay. Under your skin. Like a nasty infection, it will spread. Like a disease, it will devour. And like death. It will become. Inevitable.


http://media.photobucket.com/image/postsecret/woaleslieXO/Post%20Secret/2wqtw82.jpg?o=26

Trendsetters, Jetsetters, and cruise control.

What do boy bands, short skirts, emo kids, and MySpace all have in common? They are all trends.
Trend: (trěnd) n.
1. The general direction in which something tends to move.
2. A general tendency or inclination.
3. Current style; vogue: the latest trend in fashion.
intr.v. trend·ed, trend·ing, trends
Today we will be using dictionary definition number three. Yeah, point blank, trends are stupid, but just because it's a trend doesn't mean it's a bad thing. Yes, I think Fall Out Boy is a trendy- teenybopper-sellout band but they still have a few good songs. Short skirts are fine with leggings underneath, some of my best friends are "emo" kids, and I also have a MySpace. Just because I follow a trend doesn't make me some mindless zombie. Just like most people I think trends are stupid, but I don't like things because other people like them. I have a brain and I like what I like. If everyone started liking AFI I'm still gonna like them. Whether or not the "cool kids" think it's lame. If everyone became a Christian I'm NOT going to convert to atheism.
Basically, this has no point at all, I just wanted to say that, anti-conformity is also a trend, and by you thinking that trends are stupid you are being a hypocrite because you have become a trend yourself.
Urban dictionary definition:
"2. Trend- A religon that attention-seeking highschoolers worship as an effort to mask the fact that they are worthless nobodys that will never have a life."
F.Y.I. for posting that, you have become a follower of anti-conformity, join the club, not only are you a mindless zombie, but you are now a wannabe trendsetter.

Never unrequited or inadequate.

When it comes to life there are a lot of things you need. You need your liver to get rid of toxins, you need your lungs to breathe, you need your heart to pump blood, and you need your spleen to do whatever a spleen does.

There are a lot of intricacies to the whole idea of living. It's actually quite remarkable how something so complicated comes to form something so...easy. Yes, living is easy. Living in a sinful world isn't easy, but the whole aspect of waking up alive is rather effortless. You don't have to keep telling your brain "inhale, heartbeat, heartbeat, exhale, inhale, heartbeat, heartbeat, exhale..." it just happens. The thought doesn't even cross your mind, in other words, you do it without thinking.

Think before you speak. Parents tell their kids that all the time. If I only listened to that, I wouldn't be digging myself out of so many painful conversations. But sometimes, I don't need to think, I just need to trust my instincts instead of calmly and rationally thinking things out. If someone asks me "hey, can I kill your dog?" I don't have to think about that, my answer is no, and that's all it ever will be. If my friend is hurting I'm not going to just sit back and watch her slowly die, without a doubt in mind, I'm going to be there for her, I going to try and get her help. I don't have to think about it at all.

A year ago, if someone asked me if I was willing to jump in front of a bus to save an innocent child, I would have to think about it. Could I die, to save someone else's life? Was I ready to die? Was my faith strong enough for me to know that without a doubt I was going to be with God afterward? No. But recently I have come across a revelation. Now my faith is strong enough. So, if you held a gun to my head, and said, "if you believe in God, I'm going to pull the trigger. Do you believe in God?" I will say, I don't just believe in God, I am saved by God, I am loved by God, and I am a child of God. Last year, I would have had to think about it. But now, it's like breathing. Obvious and effortless.

On the cover of a magazine.

Cats have nine lives.
Jon and Kate plus eight.
There are seven deadly sins.
Guitars have six strings.
Actors take five.
There are four seasons.
Three is a crowd.
You kill two birds with a single stone.
One is the lonliest number.

On the cover of a magazine what do you see? Glamorous people. Silky hair. White teeth. High cheekbones. Long legs. Oh, and of course, thin bodies. They all have one thing in common. Perfection. Or at least the appearance of perfection. All the scars are painted over on the cover of a magazine. No one can compare to the cover of a magazine. You can be a size two, but of course that doesn't mean a thing. You will NEVER be good enough. No matter how hard you try, you will fail. So, why don't you borrow my philosophy. Don't try. If you fail, but don't try, you won't feel as bad as if you gave it your all and still came up short. I used to live by this philosophy. Until now. Because those models. Those fake models. On the cover of the magazine, are just that, FAKE. And being real is so much better than trying so hard to be something that doesn't exist. Did you know that Barbie's fake? Yep, completely artificial. Did you also know that if Barbie was real, like an actual person, she would die. According to scientists (from a source I'm too lazy to look up), Barbie's waist is too thin, her boobs are too big, and her feet are too small that she wouldn't be able to stand, she would just fall over because or her proportions. So, if you want to strive to some completely ficticious plastic, then go ahead. But even printed on glossy paper, you would still be you, a real person. Not a magazine cover.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, one may be the lonliest number. But I would rather be one lonely person who is real, than one equally lonely fake person with a lot of equally lonely and insecure friends. I'd take legitimate, tangible, and authentic over wannabe, any day.

Lost In Transit.

There's this box. This box is special. You put your problems inside. There they will stay, locked up. There they will stay hidden. No one knows, and no one can speak of what's in the box. It's magic, ya know. Too bad it's fake.

Magic boxes are fake, problems are real.

I can spend all my time trying to wish it away, but that doesn't work. Life is kind of like a car crash, you're just driving along, perfectly fine, life's good. Then all of a sudden, CRASH! Flash, flash, car crash. It's there and it's real, it's a problem, and you're in a panic. Are you ok? Is everyone else okay? Eventually you calm down, you move on, you make the right decision and drive along waiting for the next icy patch on the road. Only some people crash harder than others, some people only experience fender benders. For some, there's blood. For others, death. Some are bruised. Some are broken. Some are perfectly fine. In fact, most are perfectly fine.
Then there are those of us, we are lost. And it's hard to tell if the real us will ever be found under all those remains. They all want to be found, to be saved, to be made real again. But then there are people like me, the sick kind, the ones who don't want to be found. The ones who are perfectly happy hiding underneath all the debris, because it's safer than trying to move. Why try to move? I could be hurt even worse by moving me. Or I could make it out alive, I could be real, for once in my life, I can move on. And I don't need to hide under the metal junk of a death that shouldn't define me anyway.

In loving memory.