Holy Hell...

The people upstairs are having sex again. I REALLY FUCKING WANT TO GO BANG ON THE DOOR OR THE CEILING AND TELL THEM TO KEEP IT THE FUCK DOWN. I swear, they can't do anything quietly. And now I'm very angry. And I just banged on the ceiling. The creaking and pounding has stopped. I'm tired of trying my hardest not to be rude. I don't even fucking care anymore.
--
Today has been a whirlwind of thoughts. Introspection is a wonderful thing.
--
I hate people. Honestly, I hate people more as the days go by.
--
Tell me you love me.
--
Hello, welcome to my brain, my name is Danielle Martin and I will be guiding you today. Our first stop is the paranoid room. Though small in size, it's power is quite grand.
--
I know why I do it. In a way, I've always known. The knife, the black, the leather. It morphs from year to year. Defense. I'm gearing up for the battle that I'm to lose, just to thrust myself upon my sword. I can see it. In years. It'll be here. I will fight to the end.
--
You can feel its power flow right through you. It's the most you've felt in such a long time. So long you can't remember.
--
Want to win? You can't. You're just a loser. It's going to be done soon. It's coming. Can you feel it?
--
The autumn air leaves me feeling empty.

Ugh...

I feel like I've been hit in the gut. I don't know what to think. I wasn't there, and I don't see anything wrong with him. I don't see what they're saying. They all have to be crazy, right? My heart tells me that they're wrong. They're wrong, they have to be. And the thing I struggle with, do I show him?


Yes.


http://www.livejournal.com/users/bbdll/87825.html?nc=15
http://www.livejournal.com/users/bbdll/88078.html?nc=12


I really need to stop snooping out of boredom. It does me no good. I should hold my opinions and thoughts to myself. Really, I wasn't there, I don't know anything, just what he's told me. There are always two sides to a story. There are so many questions I have now. I've always wondered if we'd talk about Eden. But I feel it's not my place to ask. It's honestly none of my business. I am not his wife. He owes me nothing. I feel terrible saying all this, but it's true, he doesn't owe me anything. Have I seen Kat before and not known it? It's possible.




I love him, nothing will change that.


Edit: On second thought, I will just keep my thoughts to myself. Words can be dangerous.

*sigh*

I love him.

Cam...er...model whore?

Yep. Lots of pics. Wow. Lots.











































Yes. Lots. I like the first set (angel) better than the second.

Roarm?

I skip class too much. I don't mean to either. The other thing I forgot to mention about the job is that it would be three weeks in Phoenix. One week here, one there, one here... Why does Schraft take attendance?!?!? Haggerty High. That is most definitely not college. Not like I needed any informing of this. So if I get the job, let's hope I am a smooth talker. I think I can talk my teachers into forgetting that I'm not there for class if I turn everything in a week in advance. Well...let's see if I get the job first, eh? Don't want to jump the gun.
I just realised that all of my teachers are guys. Mr. Kavanaugh, Mr. Mehall, and Mr. Gonchaoff. Weird.
He died, I'm sure of it. No, actually I am a little worried. I normally get at least one text telling me he's quite busy, his phone is a piece...something.
Alu.min.i.um.
hi·lum (hlm)
n. pl. hi·la (-l)

1. 1. The scar on a seed, such as a bean, indicating the point of attachment to the funiculus.
   2. The nucleus of a starch grain.
2. The area through which ducts, nerves, or blood vessels enter and leave a gland or organ.

I didn't want to fuck you,
But you're pretty when you're mine.

Bad day...

Turned awesome. I really thought this day was going to be shite. I talked with Nate this morn. Began crying. For no real reason. I think I just am missing him too much. Then I skipped Math. Went to Dave's took my photos for class. Then rushed around like chicken with head cut off trying to find the stupid three hour photo place. 14 mile and Coolidge. I am a freaking retard, I drove around forever looking for it. Finally found it, after crying a good two times out of frustration. Called work and told them I blew a tire, because I was going to be late. Forty minutes. Good-God am I glad my supervisor and manager like me at work. They then asked me to do a different job today. America West and U.S. Airlines are merging. There was a celebration. They had me go upstairs (in my street clothes, so weird) and pass out juice and donuts to passengers. Did that for about three hours. Though one hour of it (which I hadn't intended on making it an hour) I went down to get food. Behind the America West ticket counter there was *free* KFC, cake, and ice cream. Went down, ate, was merry, etc. Someone asked me what I did, if I was new and a bunch of other shite. Then one guy says: "Three questions; Are you at least eighteen years old? Do you have reliable transportation? And can you work any hours?" "Yes, yes, no. School." "Damn, everyone is going to school." "Can I ask why you were inquiring?" "We need people." -So then I begin to tell him that I only go to school in the morning and early afternoon. The job is a gate agent. 26 hrs/week, 8.57/hr, Flight benefits, and early morning hours. Working either 4.30 - 8.30 or 5 - 9. Yes, in the morning. I could deal. Hell, I adjusted to this schedule. Never thought that'd happen. Very excited and very happy now. Funniest part of the conversation with said guy (Joe): Flight benefits go everywhere. We could put you on the Air New Zealand.
Speaking of Kiwis, I think mine died.
I am giving Steve 30 tomorrow for two mp3 players. Both Sony Walkmans. Weirdest part, both are black and silver, matching everything else remotely technical I have.
I have a busy damn weekend. Thursday: Thurston. No class. Interview with AWest at 4. Make my way to Detroit for photo shoot with Jeff. Friday: Class. Great Lakes Crossing with Sabrije. Serenity with Sarah and Joss. Saturday: Photoshoot with Gary. Date with guy from work named Dave. I feel like there's more on Saturday but I cannae remember.
I think the washer stopped.
There's more to write, I know it.
Nate asked me today if I could try focused writing. Freaking impossible. I can't. It sounds like a second grader's attempt at an essay. If it's something I'm passionate about and can find motivation for it, then it's great, otherwise it's enh.
I love and hate having a picture of Nate and I for my phone background.
I need to go to bed.

Tell me what I've always wanted to forget.
Forgive me for what I don't see.
Let me feel what I want.
I couldn't give a damn.

Been too long...

Hating Comcast right now. Not only are they charging me more than they should be but the connection (or something) sucks. I know it recycles all the time, but I never had such a problem with RoadRunner. If this doesn't improve I think I'll get dsl.
I miss Nate.
It was a weird day. Met a guy named Seba. From Jamaica.
Corey, the pretty, rich guy at work amazes me sometimes. When I say rich, I really mean it. He didn't know what projects were. He seems like a nice enough guy. Just a wee bit...self absorbed? Nïeve? Something.
I had a ton more to write before the computer actually sucked all of the thoughts out of my head.

Another day, luv?