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(I can do anything I want. And so can you.)

[12 Jun 2005|09:03pm]

It's a shame no one has posted here for so long. Over a year, wow.

(I can do anything I want. And so can you.)

[23 Jun 2004|11:00pm]

[ mood | mellow ]

On scraps of paper, I sketch those lips. Over and over I draw them. Thin, tight lips that you so carefully draw into a frown. They're driving me crazy. Not because they frown, but because every so often I catch them as the curve in the most beautiful smile that has ever graced the earth. Everything from the tiny gap between your two front teeth, to the dimple you get on your left cheek drives me wild. I'm in love with your lips...I'm in love with everything you are.

(I can do anything I want. And so can you.)

[03 Jun 2004|10:15pm]

Hello. Just thought I'd let everyone know that this is mylovelyhero.
New username. <333

(1 are in great danger. | I can do anything I want. And so can you.)

Beauty wins [29 May 2004|03:29pm]

[ mood | crazy ]

Everyday he noticed those hands. They slipped through an entry in his office, to give him his daily documents. He never saw a face, only those hands. He began to wait daily for them, just for a glimpse. There was nothing out of the ordinary about the hands. They had long, slender fingers. That looked almost graceful. No nail polish, ever. But what held his intrest, was that bump. The one that showed up on the middle finger of her right hand. It told him the storys that he was sure she wrote. Only a writer would have a bump like that.

One day, a new hand appeared, a fleshy, flashy hand. One that had long red nails, that he was sure was fake. The color offensive to his more natural tastes. He opened his door, looking at the women before him. He first checked her right hand, he saw no bump. He had assumed as much. Where was his writer?

"Where is the girl who usually delivers these?" He asked the woman, taking in her other features. The long, blonde, hair. Her slim, tight body.

She smiled, her teeth colgate white. "She quit. I guess she got a book deal of some sort."

He nodded, "Thank you."

Back in his office, he mulled over what to do. He knew the new girl was attractive, he'd enjoy thinking about her every day too. But she held no depth, no mystery. He also knew he probably wouldn't get as much work done with her around. He knew what he'd do, he'd find his bump girl. He'd get her name from Human Services and send her flowers.

The next day, early morning, he ran into H.S. There was a mousy girl, pretty enough with long brown hair, sea green eyes. He stared at her while she talked to the desk clerk, waiting for his turn. He watched her sign her name, those hands. It registered, but he had to have a closer look. He faked a sneeze and bent slightly down. There was the bump. It was her. He looked over the rest of her, her loose, flowing dress, he assumed covered an average body. She smiled at him, and nodded goodbye to both him and the clerk. Then she walked out the door. He just stared after her.

"Did you need something sir?" The clerk asked.

He shook his head, "No, I've already gotten what I needed."

"Is your new mail girl working out for you?" The clerk asked as he was about to leave.

He nodded almost ashamed of himself, "Yes, she's perfect for me."

(I can do anything I want. And so can you.)

The things that matter [25 May 2004|10:10pm]

[ mood | hopeful ]

"It wouldn't hurt you to put on a better shirt." She bitched at her husband.

"I look fine, it's not like anyones going to care what I have on."

"Honey, you have grape juice stains all over you."

"Fine, I'll change!" He said, throwing his shirt off and pounding his feet up the stairs.

She picked up the shirt, "I'd rather be fishing." She read aloud.

"What do you want me to wear?" Her husband called, interupting her thoughts.

"The blue sweater." She replyed. Her attention went back to the shirt. "Wouldn't we all." She mumbled. "Wouldn't we all."

Her husband came down the stairs, blue sweater on, hair neatly combed. "Ready?"

"Yeah." She nodded, aware again of how much she loved him. She set the shirt down. "So, you wanna go fishing tomorrow?"

He smiled, and took her hand, "Sure babe."

(I can do anything I want. And so can you.)

Of the fittest [23 May 2004|11:42pm]

[ mood | thoughtful ]

(I know it's been a while since I've written, but yeah, I haven't had any inspiration until recently.)

They came to a screeching halt. The cars smashed together. People that watched the scene would never believe anyone could surive this. One man rushed in, trying to find a way to the people stuck inside. He saw two similar looking, blonde, females moving ever so slightly in one of the cars. He focused his attention on them. One had her seatbelt on, the other did not. He went for the one with her seatbelt on. He cut the belt, smashed the windshield more so she'd be able to be lifted out. As he and another man that came onto the scene, dragged her to safety, the cars together exploded. Three innocent people died that day. One lived, while her twin died.

"Why did you save me?" She asked when she awoke.

"You had your seatbelt on, it seemed like you cared about life more. You were protecting yourself." The man mumbled, ashamed he hadn't been able to save both.

Tears rolled out of the girls eyes, "Two seconds before the car hit us, my sister told me to put my seat belt on. When I said no. She'd had to undo hers to buckle mine."

(I can do anything I want. And so can you.)

[23 May 2004|10:46am]

[ mood | content ]

One thing I learned, in the grand scheme of running and hiding, jumping and climbing, was that there is no "has-been," there is no "will-be." There is the here and the now, and as long as you never look back, never look forward, just stare at the sky, things turn out O.K. in the end.

(2 are in great danger. | I can do anything I want. And so can you.)

I Hope There Aren't Anymore [22 May 2004|05:00pm]

[ mood | tired ]

           A few summers back, I was on a walk, and I came across a young girl, about my age, sitting on the curb. I heard her crying so I sat down by her. No one said anything for a while, I don't even know if she noticed me sit down, but eventually, I greeted her and asked what was wrong. She told me that everything was wrong. We got to talking and she told me that a couple of years ago, her parents abandoned her, so she moved in with her aunt. She hated it there. Not that she had no friend, she had actually become quite popular. Maybe a bit too popular. The boys there started to use her, really bad. About two or three of them even raped her, so she had ran away. And since then, she had been in a few shelters, but she just kept on running away. I felt like crying, but I didn't. Instead, I invited her to walk with me.

            So she got up and we walked together, toward my house. I found out her name was Clare, Clare Brower. Along the way, we stopped for a drink at the drug store. That was when I saw her face. She was so beautiful. Her skin was a bit pale, but not too much, and her hair was a beautiful dark brown. She had amazing blue eyes, and I could see why someone so beautiful would have so many problems. Her face was so dirty, though. Her tears were like the water that came in and flooded the holes in the sand at the beach, water filled with dirt. When she wiped her face off, it left a trail of what her skin tone was really like. And it was just as pretty. 

             After some more time passed, I brought her over to my house, and I explained her situation to my mother. She took a shower, and we gave her some clean clothes. My neighbor, Tom, met her that night. Tom was an amazing kid. And Clare reminded me of a girl that he would marry someday. Tom immediately fell in love with her, and Clare loved him just as much. Over a weeks time, the two became inseparable, because Clare was staying with us for a while, until we could get her a family, or someplace else to stay. After a few more days, Clare and Tom had disappeared. They had told me the night before that they were going to run away together. I knew it would happen. Tom was like that. Tom was right for her. Clare was right for him.

(I can do anything I want. And so can you.)

Swayed By The Places You Step [17 May 2004|09:40pm]

[ mood | sad ]

With every moment, the sidewalk seemed to get wetter and wetter, along with her cheeks. Every moment was a lie, and asking all these questions were killing her bit by bit.
"Slow down a little. Turn your heart around," she said to herself. Her voice shaking.
She had to turn around. She was getting too close to him, far too close. This couldn't happen.
"Your miracle has died, hasn't it?" Someone sitting in the bus stop, with is hood pulled over his head, and his hands in his pockets, spoke out. She stopped walking, turned to the left, and pretended to be looking into his eyes. But really, she was reading the adverstisement on the side of the bench. It was one of those Truth ads. "Every day, 1,200 Americans die from smoking cigarettes," the poster said, along with some clever quote on the bottom. She started to look down now, and she looked at the knees of his jeans. Ripped apart. This boy never wore ripped jeans. Never. How long had he been on the streets?
"Yes, it has."
She took his hand, and they walked together.
"You know, you don't have to ask yourself so many questions. What happens, just happens. Don't turn your heart around, love. Don't slow down. Don't be swayed by the cracks in the sidewalk."
At that moment, she felt a hole forming on the edge of his jacket sleeve. This boy really had been out here for days, looking for her, living for her. He must have been. Because deep inside, she knew her miracle was still alive. He was still there, exsisting, among the other boys with ripped jeans, and holes on the edges of their jacket sleeves. The kind of hole that had the little pieces of cloth coming out from the sides. The kind of hole that she would rub her thumb against all night, and then pretend it was still there as she slept.

(5 are in great danger. | I can do anything I want. And so can you.)

[16 May 2004|11:08am]

[ mood | anxious ]

"Just give me one reason why this wouldn't work out! I don't understand why not. I love you, you love me. All those things you said, what the fuck were they supposed to mean?! Huh? What did I ever do to you?"
He was yelling straight into my face, but I just wouldn't look up. I couldn't stand seeing us like this. I looked up through my bangs that swept across my left eye. He was crying, and I already was. I didn't want to handle this. It was the last thing I wanted to do.
"You hate what ifs, and I'm a hypothetical person. I like to pretend, so I'll pretend this never happened, and that I never smiled back at you."
I kissed him one last time, and sort of pushed him towards the door. Once he was in the hallway, I shut the door on him. I don't think he realized it. Then I heard him cry again, and he heard the same from me on the other side of the door. He stood outside that door for about two hours after that, I sat with him. Eventually, he left, and I never saw him again. But about three weeks later, I got a letter, a letter saying so much. And a poem was enclosed with it, it was only four lines. It read:
I swear, everytime I saw you, I knew I was looking at a masterpiece.
But I hate what ifs.
And you are a hypothetical person.
I would only make this masterpiece crumble.

(I can do anything I want. And so can you.)

I am not a razor blade [15 May 2004|07:58pm]

[ mood | angry ]

I remember when I was younger, about half my age now, I was able to place my hand under a bubble, and the hallow ball of soap would  always float towards me. If I was gentle enough, then I would be able to hold the bubble in my hand for a few moments. To me, it was the most sensational feeling in the world. I would be so proud that I could hold a bubble. I tried doing that again last week, but as soon as the thin surface touched my flesh, it popped. Parts of it slashed onto my face, my fingers, my body. Why was it doing this, was I not being gentle enough? I think I hate bubbles now.

(I can do anything I want. And so can you.)

she slept the night awake [13 May 2004|10:59am]

[ mood | cranky ]

It dashed hopes and left bleeding
Stuck in how to do this
Afraid of believing it to be real..
Tears haven't come in full effect yet
She hasn't had to say it aloud yet.
Getting her head on straight
Has never been a favorite pasttime
This time,
She'll have no choice.

(4 are in great danger. | I can do anything I want. And so can you.)

Just love me [11 May 2004|09:54pm]

[ mood | creative ]

I sold my soul to the devil,
just to hold your hand...

The note said: as the girl with the unperfect face, the raggy, unstylish jeans, and the most interesting brown eyes the detective had ever seen: lay dying before him.

"Who do you think she wrote that for?" He asked another officer, waiting for an ambulance to come. Though he doubted it would get here in time to save her.

The other officer shrugged. "Does it matter?"

The detective sighed thinking, that's probably why she'd overdosed. Nothing ever really mattered. He reached down and took her hand. He felt the pulse weaken, then fade away. But he swears he saw her smile.

(I can do anything I want. And so can you.)

Never say hello, just walk away... [05 May 2004|11:11pm]

[ mood | mellow ]

I saw a girl sitting at a picnic table, outside, at lunch. I stopped to make conversation.
"That a veggie burger? Sweet potato chips?"
"Yes. I'm a vegan." She looked interested.
My eyes took in the leather pants she wore, the chocolate milk above her plate.
"Fake, and soy." She answerd before I could question.
"I'm nothing really. I just eat."
She shrugged, her smile fading, and walked away. I watched her get into her new BMW. I almost laughed right there. Those seats were definately not fake. But she was.

(3 are in great danger. | I can do anything I want. And so can you.)

False Alarms Didn't Save Their Lives [02 May 2004|09:08pm]

[ mood | drained ]

The two boys sped down the road. They were coming to a stop light so Ian slowed down. As they approached the surrounding cars waiting behind that white line, Robbie thought he spotted a police car.
"Is that a cop?" he asked.
Both of them pulled their seatbelts down about an inch from the buckles, but as soon as they came to a stop, they realized it was a false alarm. The two seatbelts snapped back and hit against the inside of the car doors.
"Did you catch the hockey game last night?" Ian aksed.
"I only saw the last 15 minutes, Kings won again." Robbie replied.
"Oh, Kenny owes me twenty bucks then."
"Haha, that asshole never pays anyone."
They both laughed as the red light turned to a green one. They kept driving and talking and they came to a turn, a very sharp turn. Half an hour later, both Ian and Robbie were announced dead, Robbie 4 minutes sooner. If only that would have been a real police car.

(I can do anything I want. And so can you.)

Side of the road attraction [02 May 2004|08:56pm]

[ mood | crazy ]

This was also put into first_thoughts and the same concept into 50wordstory, so sorry if anyone is seeing this numerous times. It just struck me as funny. I'm trying to get all the amusement I can out of it.

I thought I saw a dead monkey today,
All black and white.
I'm sure when it was alive,
It was cute and cuddly, all loveable.
It made me wonder how he got here.
How he died on the side of the street.
With no monkey friends to morn him.
No one to place a marker w/ his name on it.
It got me to thinking,
The nearest zoo is 100 miles away.
He got so far,
What would he have been going towards?
Or was there,
Just the right spot,
To commit monkey suicide?
My imagination runs away with me,
My dad says in a reply.
But maybe,
Just maybe,
I'll go back with some flowers
And maybe a symbolic banana peel.

(1 are in great danger. | I can do anything I want. And so can you.)

[01 May 2004|12:59am]

[ mood | depressed ]

Hands pressed against the glass, watching the rain quietly, pretending I don't notice how close we are standing. I don't have to turn around to see that you're directly behind me. The glass reflects your image. No secret is safe in the window. Your breath warming the back of my neck. Our bodies mimick the awkward silence floating about us. I try to ignore your hand as it slips around my waist effortlessly. A chill ripples across the small of my back as your other hand takes it's place on my hip. All my blood, it seems, rushes to my cheeks as your grip tightens and you pull me in so close that I can hear your heart beating. The rhymnic sound is so soothing. Your arms guide me as I turn around to face you. My knees give way as you lean in and kiss me. For the moment that our lips are locked, the world melts away. Our atoms seem to fuse, and every cell in my is shaking with relief. Verbal apologies have no place here. So forget that words exists, forget the world exists, and hold me tight. Hold me tight, and never let me go.

(I can do anything I want. And so can you.)

Anger [30 Apr 2004|10:18pm]

[ mood | gloomy ]

"Just tell me the truth."
"I'm not lying to you."
"YES, you are. Why can't you just be a man?"
"You know what, this is why we broke up in the first place. It wasn't my idea to keep seeing each other. Wasn't my idea to keep fucking."
"Oh, and you were just so against getting laid without having to worry about anything. Your the one who's been calling me."
"Look, I don't love you, not like that. I like you, I like being with you, but there's someone else."
She nodded, trying to keep her self together. "I know, I've always known."
He shook his head and walked away. He was doing this for the right reason, wasn't he? He'd broken her heart 4 times now. He couldn't bear to do it ever again, and lying to her, lying to her was the answer.
She knew this was one betrayal she'd never get over. It was really the end for them. Everything he'd ever said had been a lie.
If only she knew how close to the truth that was.

(I can do anything I want. And so can you.)

I'll never dry out [30 Apr 2004|12:50am]

[ mood | crushed ]

I watch love onscreen, it disappoints yet thrills me. In the movies love can conquer anything. When someone doesn't love you back, you can get over it. It doesn't end your world. You find other things to be passionate about. Movies are great that way. Usually the two people who are supposed to be together, are. It's always a good show regardless. Either you are happy that the two people got together, or your thinking about how them not being together relates to you and the person you can't be with. I want just a speck of the love that is so amazingly acted out on screen. If only I could find a good enough actor. My lines are already written and ready, all I'm waiting for now is the camera to start rolling.

(I can do anything I want. And so can you.)

An excerpt from an upcoming project... [30 Apr 2004|12:52am]

[ mood | content ]

"When the world ended, we woke up to the reality that we never saw to begin with. Which is strange... None of this seems real."

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