September 27, 2007
Mood: **unknown**
I want to do a lot of stuff. I want to search for my favorite things on google, I want to talk to a certain someone...
But I don't want to be hurt anymore.
The ice is melting, and the danger of sudden defrosting is becoming all too real. It scares me.
Had I tears to shed, I would cry. But sadly, I can't.
I must be a masochist. It's the only explanation; the only reason why I keep on walking the same path over and over again even though it ends in the same sad story every single time. I never learn. I hope that one day I will.
And I who thought that things have changed. But I guess you can never ever be quit of the darkness eh? It lingers... hanging over you like a wispy net... No matter how fast you run, it's still there. No matter how long you stay in the sun, it's still there. That, or maybe I'm just a really negative person.
Right now there is a look of utter exasperation on my face. It is coupled with sadness, resignation, and some other thing I can't place. Indifference? Perhaps.
Oh, how I love writing in cryptic messages.
Now it's even worse than before. Before, I only wanted one option. Now I still want that option, but at the same time I fear it. Trapped between two worlds, sweet.
Remind me why I walk this path again?
I don't want to do it anymore. I don't want to be hurt again. I don't think I can take it.
When will the darkness go away? But then again, where one exists, so must the other. Balance. Right.
I need to stop before I hurt myself again...
27 September 2007
12 September 2007
Things That Make Me Go Weak In The Knees
September 12, 2007
Mood: *annual flu bug*
I have a cold, and I feel like hell. Therefore, I am going to make a random post, and you shall have no option but to read it.
This list refers to guys, btw. *sniff*
5 things that make me go weak in the knees;
1. Green eyes
Yes. Green eyes. Bright emerald green eyes. One time, I was in class, and this guy sat next to me. I asked him something, and made the mistake of looking at his face (or his eyes, rather). I tell ya, if I hadn't been sitting down, my bum would've hit the floor. Hard.
And if the eyes are like, intense, expressive eyes... oh, dear God...
2. Guitar
Rockstars. Need I say more?
Of course I do.
I love the guitar. I do, I really do. I can't play it, so my jaw really drops when someone plays it as though it was an extension of their own body (that may have sounded wrong, but honestly, I don't care). I especially love the electric guitar. I could just drown in the sound... the wail... the screech.
So yeah. Show me some shredding skills, and you'll soon be picking me up from the floor.
3. British accent
Ahh... yes. The divine accent. I dare you contradict me on this one. Technically, it is actually an English accent, but screw that. You know what I'm talking about anyways.
4. Red hair or spiky jet-black hair
Red hair + green eyes = deadly combination for me. Siriusly. Hotness.
Or the spiky jet-black hair. Coupled with pasty skin... *swoons* And skinny-ness, of course. Goth look, nam-nam!!
5. ........that...
Happy trails.
Aaaaaaand we're done.
Mood: *annual flu bug*
I have a cold, and I feel like hell. Therefore, I am going to make a random post, and you shall have no option but to read it.
This list refers to guys, btw. *sniff*
5 things that make me go weak in the knees;
1. Green eyes
Yes. Green eyes. Bright emerald green eyes. One time, I was in class, and this guy sat next to me. I asked him something, and made the mistake of looking at his face (or his eyes, rather). I tell ya, if I hadn't been sitting down, my bum would've hit the floor. Hard.
And if the eyes are like, intense, expressive eyes... oh, dear God...
2. Guitar
Rockstars. Need I say more?
Of course I do.
I love the guitar. I do, I really do. I can't play it, so my jaw really drops when someone plays it as though it was an extension of their own body (that may have sounded wrong, but honestly, I don't care). I especially love the electric guitar. I could just drown in the sound... the wail... the screech.
So yeah. Show me some shredding skills, and you'll soon be picking me up from the floor.
3. British accent
Ahh... yes. The divine accent. I dare you contradict me on this one. Technically, it is actually an English accent, but screw that. You know what I'm talking about anyways.
4. Red hair or spiky jet-black hair
Red hair + green eyes = deadly combination for me. Siriusly. Hotness.
Or the spiky jet-black hair. Coupled with pasty skin... *swoons* And skinny-ness, of course. Goth look, nam-nam!!
5. ........that...
Happy trails.
Aaaaaaand we're done.
10 September 2007
Ramblings Of A Neurotic Teen
September 10, 2007
Mood: *flickering between extremes*
*le sigh*
Have you ever had one of those days... not even days; moments... where you just suddenly become devoid of all emotion. Like, zilch. No feelings. None at all. Zip.
There was a point in my life when I was grateful for that... but I'm not so sure now.
Like, how would you react if you're just sitting there... and suddenly, you realize that you have lost all traces of feelings for your beloved. It's weird; scary; insane. You feel like it was just a dream, and waking hour suddenly arrived.
*le sigh*
Breaking away for a moment...
why is it that we often do stupid things in front of people we don't want to do stupid things in front of?
Er, perhaps I should rephrase that.
It's just insane, that when we desperately do not want to screw up in front of someone we like... well, we do screw up.
Law of attraction. Right. I get it.
But still... it's weird. And extremely unfair. And uncomfortable. And awkward.
Sometimes even when you try to reassure yourself over and over again that it's fine... well, it's not.
Sometimes it just makes you want to hide yourself for ten years...
Screw this. It'll be alright... right?
My emotions are back now. And I'm not really sure if I want them back.
Oooohh... maybe I just go into some 'instant numb mode' when I do something stupid... or when I think I do something stupid. Like a self-preservation thing, ya know?
I kinda like this.
Mood: *flickering between extremes*
*le sigh*
Have you ever had one of those days... not even days; moments... where you just suddenly become devoid of all emotion. Like, zilch. No feelings. None at all. Zip.
There was a point in my life when I was grateful for that... but I'm not so sure now.
Like, how would you react if you're just sitting there... and suddenly, you realize that you have lost all traces of feelings for your beloved. It's weird; scary; insane. You feel like it was just a dream, and waking hour suddenly arrived.
*le sigh*
Breaking away for a moment...
why is it that we often do stupid things in front of people we don't want to do stupid things in front of?
Er, perhaps I should rephrase that.
It's just insane, that when we desperately do not want to screw up in front of someone we like... well, we do screw up.
Law of attraction. Right. I get it.
But still... it's weird. And extremely unfair. And uncomfortable. And awkward.
Sometimes even when you try to reassure yourself over and over again that it's fine... well, it's not.
Sometimes it just makes you want to hide yourself for ten years...
Screw this. It'll be alright... right?
My emotions are back now. And I'm not really sure if I want them back.
Oooohh... maybe I just go into some 'instant numb mode' when I do something stupid... or when I think I do something stupid. Like a self-preservation thing, ya know?
I kinda like this.
6 September 2007
First Random Rant... or is it?
September 6, 2007
Mood: *tired and sleepy*
I really should be doing my homework right now. But I don't want to.
I basically have to write a satire article on whether or not I believe in Angels or something like that. Well, if it was in English, I probably would've been done by now. But no. It's in Norwegian. Oh, curses.
But maybe the creative juices will start to flow once I'm done with this blog post.
---------------------------
We had a hiking trip the other day.
It was nice. The forest, as it turns out, was truly meant for class trips and stuff. The boy scouts use it for their training too.
The tour went well... until the last few moments.
Wasn't that bad. It was just the simple fact that our teacher had no idea where we were.
Seriously, he had to call on the boy scouts to help him read the map. We walked for over an hour before we found our way out of the bloody woods.
My shoes hate me now.
----------------------------
I hate fighting with people over the internet.
I just hate it. Cause no matter how intelligent your responses are, it never gets through to them.
I especially hate it cause I can't resort to slapping, no matter how bad the argument gets.
Ah well...
--------------------------
Still not working. I think I need coffee. I can't even think right now. How am I supposed to do my assignment?!
Mood: *tired and sleepy*
I really should be doing my homework right now. But I don't want to.
I basically have to write a satire article on whether or not I believe in Angels or something like that. Well, if it was in English, I probably would've been done by now. But no. It's in Norwegian. Oh, curses.
But maybe the creative juices will start to flow once I'm done with this blog post.
---------------------------
We had a hiking trip the other day.
It was nice. The forest, as it turns out, was truly meant for class trips and stuff. The boy scouts use it for their training too.
The tour went well... until the last few moments.
Wasn't that bad. It was just the simple fact that our teacher had no idea where we were.
Seriously, he had to call on the boy scouts to help him read the map. We walked for over an hour before we found our way out of the bloody woods.
My shoes hate me now.
----------------------------
I hate fighting with people over the internet.
I just hate it. Cause no matter how intelligent your responses are, it never gets through to them.
I especially hate it cause I can't resort to slapping, no matter how bad the argument gets.
Ah well...
--------------------------
Still not working. I think I need coffee. I can't even think right now. How am I supposed to do my assignment?!
5 September 2007
Are You Sure?
September 5, 2007
Mood: *all smiles*
Before you proceed, I ask again.
Are you sure?
The story is disgusting, stomach-churning, nausea-inducing... And above all, it sucks like hell.
Still wanna read it?
Whatever. Your call.
Sounds of Madness
By the time you're done reading, the men in white coats would have already picked me up.
Cheerio!!
Mood: *all smiles*
Before you proceed, I ask again.
Are you sure?
The story is disgusting, stomach-churning, nausea-inducing... And above all, it sucks like hell.
Still wanna read it?
Whatever. Your call.
Sounds of Madness
By the time you're done reading, the men in white coats would have already picked me up.
Cheerio!!
When Stephen King and Thomas Harris Did A Cocktail On My Brain
September 5, 2007
Mood: *all smiles*
You clicked the button. Live with it.
But before you read, have you eaten yet? If no, then go ahead and read. If you have, then get something to puke on. Cause this story is gonna make you nauseous; either because of the nastiness or simply because of the sheer suckiness of it all.
Whatever.
-----
Sounds of Madness
”... finds the defendant guilty on all counts…”
Silence. Baited breath.
“… and hereby sentenced to death by lethal injection.”
The silence was broken by several abrupt sounds; cheers, sobs, applause, murmurs… but there was one noise that stood out. A man was screaming.
It was the defendant.
“I didn’t do it! I swear to God I didn’t do it!! I’m innocent!!”
The afternoon sun filtered through the court window. Its orange tinge played with the faces of the jury; made them look harsh…cruel…
But no more inhumane than the accused.
He was still trashing around, flailing his limbs and screaming at the top of his lungs, spit flying everywhere. The coloured light only served to illuminate the madness in his eyes. Two middle-aged policemen were working to restrain him.
Something caught the man’s eye. He suddenly whipped his head around so fast, he might have injured his neck.
“You goddamned bitch!! It wasn’t me!! You planted the evidence! You did it! You killed Rachel!!”
The woman he was screaming at stood up and cast the wild man a sparing look, then turned her back to him. She headed for the door as the man continued to hurl obscenities at her; she had better things to do than listen to his ravings.
She had just stepped out of the door when she felt a hand on her shoulder. It belonged to a man in a suit. He looked young, but had an air of professionalism about him.
“Good afternoon, Agent Greenwood. I’m Bart Rutherford, forensic psychiatrist.” He held up an ID.
“You look far too young to be one.”
“Good observation. I’m actually still in University studying for my major. My professor sent me here to observe the hearing.”
“What did you think?”
“Based on what the witnesses’ testimony and the evidence presented, I’d say the jury and the judge ruled right. However, I need to know more, and I was wondering if you could tell me more about the case, given that you were the one who apprehended him.”
“Sure. But would you mind if I go make coffee first? There’s a coffeemaker upstairs, and I could tell you about the case while it’s brewing.”
“Sounds good to me.”
-----
The responding police officers knocked down the door. What greeted them was a hellish scene taken from a nightmare.
Blood was splattered everywhere, and the furniture was strewn about, indicating a struggle. They walked to the dining area, and one of the policemen immediately ran outside, where he purged himself of his lunch.
On a plate in the table was the severed head of a woman. On another plate was a salad mixed with bits and pieces of what looked like human skin. There was a single eyeball on top, presumably serving as garnish.
But what made the officer lose it was the fact that someone had already eaten through half of the meal.
Suddenly, a shot was fired from upstairs. The remaining officers ran towards the sound. They forced open the door, and found Agent Greenwood wounded on the floor, with her gun pointed at a man. The man was brandishing a knife, and etched on his face was a look of utmost hate and revulsion.
At the sound of the door being forced open, the man turned to the police officers and swung the knife in their direction.
Two loud gunshots; and the man slowly sank down. Agent Greenwood had shot him on the wrist and on the kneecap.
-----
Silence, and the smell of coffee.
Bart Rutherford was quiet, holding his cup with two hands, staring at Agent Greenwood. She was staring at her own cup, seemingly mesmerized by the tendrils of smoke swirling up.
It took several attempts before Agent Greenwood was ready to tell the rest of the story.
-----
“Now open wide… look, airplane!!” A twisted parody of how one would feed an infant.
The other person was bound to the chair, squirming, trying to escape. The person trashed their head around feebly; avoiding the spoon directed at their mouth.
A spoon filled with meat from that gruesome feast.
But the person’s resistance was futile. Soon that accursed utensil was inside their mouth, and the contents were slowly sliding down their throat.
The person wanted to vomit… was feeling increasingly nauseous as the minutes ticked by. Why was this happening?
As if reading the captive’s mind, the monster with the spoon bent down and whispered.
“You see what happens when people lie? You should never have left me…”
-----
“He made you eat…”
“Rachel. My best friend.”
“I’m so sorry…”
“It was a year ago. I’ve undergone therapy and am feeling better now.”
Somehow, time passed without Agent Greenwood being aware of it. Next thing she knew, Mr Rutherford was thanking her, and she was shaking his hand… bidding him goodbye.
-----
The sound of running water.
Special Agent Hazel Greenwood stood bent over the sink. She gathered up water in her hands and splashed it on her face. She remained still for a few moments, then drew in a shuddering breath and straightened up.
She just stood there for the longest time, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her face had taken on a weird expression… as if she didn’t quite know who or what she was staring at.
She was still, yet her eyes were moving; scanning the image before her. Moving… moving… then they stopped, drawn to something on her neck.
A necklace. With a tooth for a pendant. A human tooth.
Rachel’s tooth.
Hazel tore her gaze from the relic and looked at the mirror again. There was some kind of wild happiness etched on her face; a madness that somehow made her look like something less human.
And was that a grin on her face?
Again, the sound of running water. Now joined by another sound – laughter.
-----
“Fuck you Hazel!!”
“Oh no, Mark. Fuck you. You said you loved me. You lied.” She scooped another spoonful of that horrible salad, and forced fed it to him.
He tried to keep his mouth closed… but failed as nausea gripped him. He vomited, and she used the opportunity to insert the spoon in his mouth.
Her face was blank and her voice sweet as she did all this.
She bent over until she was at face level with him.
“You should have known better than to mess around with me, Mark. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned…” She straightened up and patted his head.
“Well, that’s part one done. Excuse me while I make a very important call.” With that, she clamped his mouth shut with one hand and dialled with the other.
‘911 emergency?’
Her voice suddenly switched from being abnormally cold to being frightened. “Hello… I… this is… oh my god. He made me… I need back-up now!! Agent Greenwood. Oh dear god… hurry!”
The call was done.
Hazel then went to the kitchen and retrieved a knife. Mark stared warily at her, unsure and afraid of what she would do next.
“See you in hell Mark.”
All of a sudden, she plunged the knife straight to her stomach. She was bleeding all over the place now. Then she cut Mark loose and scampered up the stairs.
Mark felt like he was possessed. He grabbed the knife and hurried after her. She would pay for this…
His lust for revenge blocked all sense of rationality. He didn’t think. Therefore, he couldn’t see the huge trap laid out in front of him. Didn’t see that he was heading straight for it.
The door was locked. He started banging on the door… it opened.
He rushed inside, and it closed once again.
“I’LL KILL YOU!!”
“Not if I get there first.”
A few whispered words. Mumbles too incoherent to hear through the door.
Then a gunshot.
The door was suddenly forced open. Several people in uniform burst in and pointed their guns at Mark. He spun around, and the last thing he was aware of was a searing pain in his wrist and his knee.
As he fell upon the swirling darkness, the last thing he saw was Hazel looking at him with an expression of wild satisfaction.
-----
*sounds of toilet flushing*
Yeah I know, it sucked.
I'm a failure... *hangs head in shame*
Mood: *all smiles*
You clicked the button. Live with it.
But before you read, have you eaten yet? If no, then go ahead and read. If you have, then get something to puke on. Cause this story is gonna make you nauseous; either because of the nastiness or simply because of the sheer suckiness of it all.
Whatever.
-----
Sounds of Madness
”... finds the defendant guilty on all counts…”
Silence. Baited breath.
“… and hereby sentenced to death by lethal injection.”
The silence was broken by several abrupt sounds; cheers, sobs, applause, murmurs… but there was one noise that stood out. A man was screaming.
It was the defendant.
“I didn’t do it! I swear to God I didn’t do it!! I’m innocent!!”
The afternoon sun filtered through the court window. Its orange tinge played with the faces of the jury; made them look harsh…cruel…
But no more inhumane than the accused.
He was still trashing around, flailing his limbs and screaming at the top of his lungs, spit flying everywhere. The coloured light only served to illuminate the madness in his eyes. Two middle-aged policemen were working to restrain him.
Something caught the man’s eye. He suddenly whipped his head around so fast, he might have injured his neck.
“You goddamned bitch!! It wasn’t me!! You planted the evidence! You did it! You killed Rachel!!”
The woman he was screaming at stood up and cast the wild man a sparing look, then turned her back to him. She headed for the door as the man continued to hurl obscenities at her; she had better things to do than listen to his ravings.
She had just stepped out of the door when she felt a hand on her shoulder. It belonged to a man in a suit. He looked young, but had an air of professionalism about him.
“Good afternoon, Agent Greenwood. I’m Bart Rutherford, forensic psychiatrist.” He held up an ID.
“You look far too young to be one.”
“Good observation. I’m actually still in University studying for my major. My professor sent me here to observe the hearing.”
“What did you think?”
“Based on what the witnesses’ testimony and the evidence presented, I’d say the jury and the judge ruled right. However, I need to know more, and I was wondering if you could tell me more about the case, given that you were the one who apprehended him.”
“Sure. But would you mind if I go make coffee first? There’s a coffeemaker upstairs, and I could tell you about the case while it’s brewing.”
“Sounds good to me.”
-----
The responding police officers knocked down the door. What greeted them was a hellish scene taken from a nightmare.
Blood was splattered everywhere, and the furniture was strewn about, indicating a struggle. They walked to the dining area, and one of the policemen immediately ran outside, where he purged himself of his lunch.
On a plate in the table was the severed head of a woman. On another plate was a salad mixed with bits and pieces of what looked like human skin. There was a single eyeball on top, presumably serving as garnish.
But what made the officer lose it was the fact that someone had already eaten through half of the meal.
Suddenly, a shot was fired from upstairs. The remaining officers ran towards the sound. They forced open the door, and found Agent Greenwood wounded on the floor, with her gun pointed at a man. The man was brandishing a knife, and etched on his face was a look of utmost hate and revulsion.
At the sound of the door being forced open, the man turned to the police officers and swung the knife in their direction.
Two loud gunshots; and the man slowly sank down. Agent Greenwood had shot him on the wrist and on the kneecap.
-----
Silence, and the smell of coffee.
Bart Rutherford was quiet, holding his cup with two hands, staring at Agent Greenwood. She was staring at her own cup, seemingly mesmerized by the tendrils of smoke swirling up.
It took several attempts before Agent Greenwood was ready to tell the rest of the story.
-----
“Now open wide… look, airplane!!” A twisted parody of how one would feed an infant.
The other person was bound to the chair, squirming, trying to escape. The person trashed their head around feebly; avoiding the spoon directed at their mouth.
A spoon filled with meat from that gruesome feast.
But the person’s resistance was futile. Soon that accursed utensil was inside their mouth, and the contents were slowly sliding down their throat.
The person wanted to vomit… was feeling increasingly nauseous as the minutes ticked by. Why was this happening?
As if reading the captive’s mind, the monster with the spoon bent down and whispered.
“You see what happens when people lie? You should never have left me…”
-----
“He made you eat…”
“Rachel. My best friend.”
“I’m so sorry…”
“It was a year ago. I’ve undergone therapy and am feeling better now.”
Somehow, time passed without Agent Greenwood being aware of it. Next thing she knew, Mr Rutherford was thanking her, and she was shaking his hand… bidding him goodbye.
-----
The sound of running water.
Special Agent Hazel Greenwood stood bent over the sink. She gathered up water in her hands and splashed it on her face. She remained still for a few moments, then drew in a shuddering breath and straightened up.
She just stood there for the longest time, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her face had taken on a weird expression… as if she didn’t quite know who or what she was staring at.
She was still, yet her eyes were moving; scanning the image before her. Moving… moving… then they stopped, drawn to something on her neck.
A necklace. With a tooth for a pendant. A human tooth.
Rachel’s tooth.
Hazel tore her gaze from the relic and looked at the mirror again. There was some kind of wild happiness etched on her face; a madness that somehow made her look like something less human.
And was that a grin on her face?
Again, the sound of running water. Now joined by another sound – laughter.
-----
“Fuck you Hazel!!”
“Oh no, Mark. Fuck you. You said you loved me. You lied.” She scooped another spoonful of that horrible salad, and forced fed it to him.
He tried to keep his mouth closed… but failed as nausea gripped him. He vomited, and she used the opportunity to insert the spoon in his mouth.
Her face was blank and her voice sweet as she did all this.
She bent over until she was at face level with him.
“You should have known better than to mess around with me, Mark. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned…” She straightened up and patted his head.
“Well, that’s part one done. Excuse me while I make a very important call.” With that, she clamped his mouth shut with one hand and dialled with the other.
‘911 emergency?’
Her voice suddenly switched from being abnormally cold to being frightened. “Hello… I… this is… oh my god. He made me… I need back-up now!! Agent Greenwood. Oh dear god… hurry!”
The call was done.
Hazel then went to the kitchen and retrieved a knife. Mark stared warily at her, unsure and afraid of what she would do next.
“See you in hell Mark.”
All of a sudden, she plunged the knife straight to her stomach. She was bleeding all over the place now. Then she cut Mark loose and scampered up the stairs.
Mark felt like he was possessed. He grabbed the knife and hurried after her. She would pay for this…
His lust for revenge blocked all sense of rationality. He didn’t think. Therefore, he couldn’t see the huge trap laid out in front of him. Didn’t see that he was heading straight for it.
The door was locked. He started banging on the door… it opened.
He rushed inside, and it closed once again.
“I’LL KILL YOU!!”
“Not if I get there first.”
A few whispered words. Mumbles too incoherent to hear through the door.
Then a gunshot.
The door was suddenly forced open. Several people in uniform burst in and pointed their guns at Mark. He spun around, and the last thing he was aware of was a searing pain in his wrist and his knee.
As he fell upon the swirling darkness, the last thing he saw was Hazel looking at him with an expression of wild satisfaction.
-----
*sounds of toilet flushing*
Yeah I know, it sucked.
I'm a failure... *hangs head in shame*
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