emsoileau got me again, and seeing as I couldn't manage to do it the first time, here's my thirteen facts, question-answering thingamaboo.

Thirteen Facts:

1.) I LOVE reading about unsolved crimes, unexplained disappearances, mysteries, and ghosts. I'm always intrigued by a good mystery and these are my favorites which sometimes makes me think I'm a little twisted. It's not that I like the fact that people went missing, I'm just curious about how it happened and why, especially when there are cases with inexplicable details that nobody can understand. And then after I read all of these scary/disturbing stories, I get too scared to sleep. c:

2.) My favorite candies are ones that combine chocolate and crunchy things. Chocolate covered pretzels, KitKats, Crunch, Twix, and the like. Can't beat that flavor & texture combo

3.) I am extremely sentimental. I mean this in the I-have-a-shoebox-under-the-bed-full-of-old-notes-and-birthday-candles-and-wedding-invitations-and-bottle-caps-and-movie-stubs-and-presents-from-friends-and-notes-my-mom-left-in-my-lunchbox-when-I-was-in-kindergarten kind of way.

4.) Kind of along with that last point, I am very connected to music and I can trace almost every song/artist I know to a particular time, place, moment, or person. My brother is Elton John, my dad is U2, my best friend is My Chemical Romance, and my ex is Queen. 

(and trust me, this quality of myself makes it hard as fuck to get over him because every song is tied to a memory and I have a million with him)

but actually in every other case this is something I really love about myself and I love how different songs bring up different good memories.

5.) My wisdom teeth are coming in and ow why

6.) I doodle uncontrollably. none of my school papers are ever clean. my pre-calc teacher last year had us hand in our notebooks when the year was up and I had to flip through my entire book scribbling out elaborate calligraphy spelling out "I Hate This Class" along with detailed drawings of topless mermaids and shit C:

7.) I also love drawing on people. I draw mock tattoos. I actually drew a pretty great on my friend Ryan of a cat with two daggers along side it that said "EDGY" on a banner underneath. Wish I had a picture before he washed it off lol.

8.) I love spearmint gum. Or really any mint that's gonna freshen up my life. Fruity gum can go fuck itself imo

9.) I'm a night person. I like how quiet it gets when it's late and it's just peaceful to me, a good time to write and relax.

10.) When I was younger I used to read ALL THE TIME. Now I barely do it and it makes me sad, I wish I was as obsessed with books as I used to be. I don't think my love for literature has gone away, just changed, and I've gotten so busy and my head gets so noisy that reading just doesn't work.

11.) I've had a lot of pets over my childhood, though most have now gone to the cute pearly gates in tiny heaven. These pets include a dog named Montana, two birds named Joanie and Chachi, three hamsters named Rocko, Shelly, and Yoda, a guinea pig named Ozzy, a ferret named Honey, a fish named Robert, a rabbit named Elvis, and finally, my current pet, a dog named Maverick.

If you couldn't tell, I REALLY LOVE ANIMALS

12.) I want a cat. A BIG FLUFFY ORANGE CAT to cuddle and love.

13.) I'm the mom friend. Got bandaids and snacks in my purse, always available with hugs and advice, and threaten to beat up any boys who make my gals cry.


EMS's questions

1) how do you feel about divorce?



Sad it has to happen, but it's better to separate than to live a life where one or both parties could be happier elsewhere. personally if I'm ever getting married (and I want to get married because I'm romantic as fuck), I'm making sure 100% that it's the person I'm going to love and be with forever. That's my goal, that marriage can actually be fun and not a chore and that two people can actually live together and happily be soulmates and best friends for all their lives.

2) go look up the blues traveler song hook if you've never heard it and tell me your opinion of it (hint: i fucking love that song beyond all goddamned reason but i'm curious what you think)

I knew this song already and I AINT TELLIN YOU NO LIEEEE

3) is there anyone you truly trust? i mean really, really trust?

My family, I know they'll always be honest and that they have my best interests at heart.

4) do you feel like the whole trigger word/safe space culture has taken things too far or do you think they're not taking it far enough?

Oh no, this would take an entire essay to explain and people are going to get offended but actually yeah kinda I think it's gone too far. If someone's actually been through trauma and wants something graphically violent to have a trigger warning, yeah okay I understand cases like that. But lately it seems like anything is a trigger (because there's a certain breed of tumblr teen who just thinks everything in his/her life is an issue) and I don't think it's logical or possible to warn for them all. It shouldn't be the world's responsibility to censor itself for certain people...especially when people claim that they're triggered by something like a spoon. People like that I feel are just trolling, which sucks because it makes it even harder for people who truly are triggered by certain things to be protected.

And the whole safe space thing kind of pisses me off. Because...and keep in mind, this is the delicate flower speaking...the world and society shouldn't have to bend over backward because some people are too sensitive. I have anxiety issues. I have hidden in public bathrooms to collect myself during work, I have locked myself into closets at parties because I became too overwhelmed. And eventually I realized that at some point, you need to be able to figure out how to function through the anxiety and live your goddamn life. Because you can't rely on your father to make all your phone calls your entire adult life just because the thought scares you. You can't expect your friends to order food for you at a restaurant forever. And that's what I've had to learn to do. 

I think the "safe space" idea is blaming the world because an individual is too "sensitive" to handle it, when in reality, if you find these things tough, you need to figure out how to survive in the real world, whether that means seeing a therapist, getting medication, or pushing through what's holding you back.

Hopefully that made sense and didn't offend anyone, keep in mind that's just my opinion on the matter.

5) to you, what makes a truly good leader of a country?

Someone who isn't Bush

6) going along with #5, if you're from the US, who would you personally elect as president if the choice were yours and yours alone? why? it doesn't matter if the person is famous or anything just someone you personally feel embodies what a good leader needs to be.

One of my best friends should be president. He's intelligent, driven, and looks quite handsome in a suit. (Love you G.) But for real, I could see him becoming president someday, he's really mature and does fantastically with anything he puts his mind to.

7) do you believe you can love a person's work (music, paintings, whatever they do) without liking, loving or even agreeing with the person themselves? (i'm thinking in particular of one of my favorite musicians right now)

Definitely. To give an example, the singer from Front Porch Step was (I think) faced with charges for sending nudes to an underage girl, which is disgusting and like dude what the fuck. But I really did enjoy a lot of the band's music. Kind of leaves a bad taste in my mouth now, but I think it's true that you can like the music and hate the person for what they did.

8) let's say you're travelling to a specific country for the express purpose of eating a particular dish made there. which country are you going to and what dish is it?

Hmmm. I wanna go to Germany. Get me some goddamn schnitzel and strudel right now

9.) when it comes to making true, close friends:
a) what is one major, absolute, non-negotiable trait or belief, etc. they must have? 
b) what is one major, absolute, non-negotiable dealbreaker? (basically the opposite of A)

a.) Sense of humor. If you're serious all the time, there's no chance we're ever going to get along. All I do is joke around and if you're never laughing I'm just gonna go ahead and assume that you're boring and also that you probably hate me so
b.) I can't really get along with people who are overly righteous. And I'm a pretty good kid (no drugs no alcohol no parties do my homework eat my veggies) but if I hear any preaching from someone about my lifestyle or if I get the feeling I'm being shamed/judged by someone who thinks themselves morally higher, I'm over it. No thank you :b

10.)  have you ever wished that you were of a different ethnicity?

Not really

11) cello or piano? and yes you have to pick one.

Piano! I'm actually learning right now C:

12) i know this is a hot-button type question but what is your stance on abortion? if you'd prefer not to answer i guess just tell me what you like best at your favorite restaurant?

...

I like chicken alfredo at a local Italian place.

13) could you make the decision to push the red button?

You mean like to launch a nuke? Lol wayyyy too much pressure I wouldn't handle that very well at all I don't think

my questions

1.) If you were a type of food, what type would you be, and why?

2.) What's your favorite movie and why? Give a lil description in case someone's not familiar, but no spoilers!

3.) What's your favorite song lyric, and what song/artist is it from?

4.) What country are you from? What do you think your country is best at compared to other countries, or what do you like best about it?

5.) What's your favorite holiday, and why?

6.) What does love mean to you? How does it feel, what does it make you think about?

7.) Do you believe in aliens and/or ghosts?

8.) What artistic medium do you feel you work best with? Which medium do you think you need to practice more with?

9.) Who was your first crush, and what are they like now?

10.) Do you have any quirky/funny personal beliefs of interest to your watchers?

11.) What era of music do you think is the best (and I won't judge you if you don't say 60's even though that's my favorite)?

12.) Can you do that thing where you twist your tongue into that clover shape (probably google it if you don't know what I mean)?

13.) Do you believe in magic...in a young girl's heart?

tags:

GuinevereToGwen
ArtsyRosey
BleedingProphecies
counting-vertebrae

<sub>I'm addicted, I love reading them. Have any good ones? I'd really love to see them. Especially if they're personal ones about odd little goings-on, those are my favoritessss and I've pretty much read all of the internet's ghost stories but I NEED MORE

School starts on Monday and I have to write two five-page essays on books I didn't read within the next less-than-48 hours so wish me luck? Summer work is lame as it is but it's especially lame when you work 12 hour shifts and come home wanting to just sleep so you can get up and work the next morning yknow? My motivation for reading those suckers was zero and now I'm FUCKED C:

Also I really want a churro right now

That is all

Kat</sub>

sorry

I think something's changing about me. When I was a kid, I could write stories for hours and hours and never get bored. Lately I feel like I have no attention span. All I can write are poems and most of those I don't even finish. My whole life I wanted to be an author and now I think that's changing.

I'm about to be a senior in high school and everything just feels weird. I was dating this boy for the past two years and I was idiot-poet in love with him and he dumped me like I meant nothing and it hurt for a long time but it's gotten to the point where I'm okay with it because I can look back and realize that he wasn't a good person and actually treated me pretty terribly at times. He never would've been right for me but that doesn't stop me from caring about him, which basically sucks.

But something I've realized is that I was so in love with him that I forgot who I was. I spent all my time trying to be the kind of girl he could love because I thought that if I tried harder, he would actually care about me. But the truth is that he never loved me, or at least not the way I loved him. And he's naturally a careless person. I never meant much to him and was just a simple little low priority in his life. 

But there were good times. Looking back hurts. I keep thinking of making out in his car and feeling actually truly beautiful just because he wanted me, and of how he used to sing along to songs in the car and every time a lyric said something about being in love or something about a beautiful girl, he'd (poorly) sing out the lyrics and grab my hand. He used to rub his thumb in circles on my skin when we held hands, and he had perfect green eyes and these cute little freckles across his cheeks. I miss how he felt in my arms and his voice singing quietly against my chest before we went to sleep. I was so young and so fucking stupid I was like harley quinn expecting the joker to love her and respect her and treat her right. 

I've talked to every friend and family member and they've helped me so much. I keep telling myself that none of the good stuff matters anymore and that I'm going to learn from all of this and that he made his choice and that he'll never be right for me and that he was never that great in the first place and all the other things I need to tell myself to get through it. And I'm really going to be okay. He's just a boy. 

Albeit a boy I really, really loved.

Being with him made me forget who I was. My mission now is to figure out who the fuck I am anymore, because at the moment, I feel like I don't entirely know.

Sorry for the rambling, it's a long lonely night and I felt like explaining why I haven't been around.

Sorry

Kat

Hello, world!

As we all know, 2015 is winding to its inevitable close, and the looming glow of 2016 is preparing to welcome us into the new opportunities of a fresh year!

I decided to write a little wrap-up to tie 2015 with a neat bow, but then it occurred to me that I could easily make a game out of this, so that's what I intend to do.

The challenge is simple!

Write a journal summarizing your 2015!
Include your favorite work from this year that you have written, and also your favorite work that you have found, from another artist. You can show more than one if you'd like. You could even make a feature if you so choose.
Include some photos of important events, happy times, or anything meaningful, along with descriptions. If you don't have photos, that's alright, just tell us about good things that happened!
Finally, make a resolution! It can be ANYTHING you like: about your art, your personal life, anything you can think of!

Without further ado, here's my wrap-up!

My favorite pieces that I myself made are the following:

after the party.He's drunk in the backseat. 
"Anna. Anna. Anna," he moans, as if my name is a broken record his throat can't stop scratching; his voice is nettles and thorns, every natural prick and annoyance. My knuckles go white on the wheel.
Ryan's riding shotgun and he won't look at me. "If you need me to drive him home, I can do it," he offers sheepishly. I don't answer, just press my foot to the gas and let the engine's rusty roar engulf John's voice.
I peek in the rearview mirror. John's laying across the seat like a dead trout, and I can tell Ryan hasn't even bothered to buckle his seat belt. There's a photo album in John's arms that he clings to with all ten fingers, as if it's a bible and he's lying on his deathbed. 
I flick my gaze to the old country road ahead, a blurry blue smear of early morning. 
"Anna. Anna, I wanna keep her pictures." There's a glint of something in my peripherals, and then a pop, a cool hiss.
"Put the booze down. I don't need you throwing up in my godd

Mature Content

to the woman who drowned herself in the bathtub.i.
to the woman who drowned herself in the bathtub:
in the magazine I own that published your story,
they blurred out the crime scene photographs,
erasing your face and
the full curves of your breasts.
some part of me wonders
if you would have wanted this,
or if you would have liked for 
the public to see you in your final moments,
half-soaked in grey-looking water,
your hair in strings, glued to the porcelain,
eyes closed and mouth gaping,
no breath stirring, no bubbles rising.
ii.
sometimes when I look
into the depths of my bathroom sink,
I hear your voice
(or what I imagine it to be--
after all, we never met).
you sit on the edge of the toilet seat,
and chat to me about the weather.
I would give anything to hear your real, living voice,
to ask you what you were thinking
as you lowered yourself
into the tub, queen of the tendrils of steam,
and let your lungs deflate like old birthday balloons.
iii.
on the news they say that your autopsy
revealed three quarters
of a bottle o letter to an ember.if I could say anything
to the me of four years ago,
it would be
"brush your hair."
and also,
"clean up your eyeliner,
you look like an emo raccoon,"
and also,
"there are other colors
besides black,
didn't you get the memo?"
I would then follow it up
by telling you
that your writing sucks,
and that you will one day
throw out all of the journals
you currently hold so dear.
but that's okay.
I'm not the first to spit such
venom in your ear
and I will not be the last.
the good thing is that
you will keep writing 
no matter what I tell you
and no matter how much
the smoke of old words stings your eyes.
I've always admired
your tenacity, kid.
now,
I'm sure you're curious
about the future,
and what things are like
for you when you get to be my age.
unfortunately,
it's not my place to spoil
such surprises. 
I'll give you a hint,
though:
you survive.
you buy better clothes.
you find people who 
make you feel like you're beautiful
and like you're worth it
and like you finally

These pieces are my favorites because 1.) I believe they are some of my best work, and 2.) I believe all four of them challenged me in some way. "after the party." is the first piece of flash fiction I've been truly proud of. "seasons." was a different kind of poem for me, based around a theme. "to the woman who drowned herself in the bathtub." dealt with a lot of heavy material. and "letter to an ember." had me addressing myself, which can be difficult sometimes.&nbsp;

My favorite pieces that others made are the following:

<da:thumb id="537793526"/>

Mature Content

acrimonyi have spent too long loving you
like a store shutting down, slashing my prices,
hoping there’s something here you might
want to buy before i go under.
this is not your fault. i was told that loving
desperately and wholly was light years
better than loving practically, but you
have spent four years loving me like i am a siege
and you are worried that your fortress’s walls
are not high enough. i think i mean
that you love me cautious; you love me
circumstantially.
most nights i waste hours not looking at my phone
and trying to remind myself how much i am
worth without you by my side. the numbers
never add up. maybe this is because
you have never been constant enough to be an equation.
look here, i have it on good authority
that universes exist in my skin and stars have died
so that i could live. stars have died and i have
survived and you will not be the one to make me wish
my soul was nothing but a black hole.
i can’t shake the thought that you are my novel and
i am y tempest temptressThe first woman was
Promethean punishment,
a way for the King
to ruin mankind
with beauty and grace.
It has always
been this way,
and it continues
because man believes it:
woman is their punishment
and her power too strong,
so she must be contained and
owned by a stronger figure
who can control and tame
the tempest she is.
Pandora is given to a man
to be owned, a possession,
but she possesses
her own jar, it is hers,
and she opens it
because it is
the only thing she has
been allowed in this world,
the opportunity to open,
and she does.
All sorrows and sins
sweep the world, and the story
goes that it was because
her husband wasn’t watching,
because she was foolish
and believed it was jewelry
or silk inside, but
she opened the jar because
it was her own,
and in a world where nothing
belongs to woman,
where woman is man’s punishment
and property to acquire,
she will open the jar
because it is the only choice
she is given. the five steps of stitching together a wound1. i fall out of love with you on a tuesday.
to be honest, i don’t know it’s happening until
it’s happened, until i sit in my bed that night
and look at the neat holes you’ve left
dotting my life. weeks ago, i gave you back
your jacket when the weather
turned warm enough that i wasn’t smoking
with every breath. the space it took up
on my desk chair remains emptied, but
i am sure it will be filled again soon,
with piles of books i will never lend you
and poems you will never hear me speak,
that aren’t about you, that use words i’ve never
told you, like ‘vitriol’ and ‘bubbly’.
2. loving you was consuming, was every two in
the morning we lived through. it was giggles
and groans and side looks and honesty
so hot it burned when i touched it for too long.
3. that night, i try to quantify what i have lost
but i can’t. it feels less like ripping and more like
melting; i realize i have written my last love poem
for you week five things they don't teach you in highschool1.
it's okay to fall in love.
i mean, they tell you you're never going
to marry your high school sweetheart and i'm not going
to tell you it's a lie
because it's not. you guys will probably
break up and it's gonna hurt like hell
but you'll be okay. remember, you are not the only one
who has felt loneliness like a knife,
the only one to know the pain of lungs collapsing
because they were your air,
and you will never be the only one who whispered
"i love you" two lives too soon.
you will not be the last one to have tucked
hair behind their ear and leaned in for a kiss
or the last one to wake up reaching for a hand that's no longer there.
but it's okay.
2.
your favorite book will not always be your favorite.
like you, it will change over time
to something unrecognizable
that gives you only a vague nostalgia in the tips of your fingers.
flipping through the pages will never
feel the same again.
you will learn to love something new;
your next favorite will teach you something about y silent killerdad cries when he thinks we aren't looking
after you've taken your pills and gone to sleep
when i've holed away in my bedroom again
and he says "why her?" so many times that i feel it is all he knows how to say these days
you aren't the you we knew and now we have to make sure you have all your medicine
all your drugs, all your drugs, all your drugs
"take these, they'll help" but you still can't remember what happened yesterday or form coherent thoughts and you still spill your guts in the mornings before my brother goes to school
your fifty-sixth birthday and we can't leave you home alone for fear it will be the end of you
i have to make sure you wake up on time and dad has to remind you that he still loves you even though you aren't the you we knew--
everything is injections and scans and charts and pillspillspills and drugs and chemicals and they're killing you to keep you here
i don't feel like painting and going out with friends makes me feel guilty for leaving you so i staystayst universeif ever there was a singular point in time, darling,
fixed forever,
i'd like it to be in the blind-filtered morning
in the cold of december,
seventeen hours from my childhood home,
your face in my curls and my head on your chest Wendigo (WIP)Norma Jean drew a heart on the back of my hand in hoop snake blood.
“When that fades,” she said, tapping the center of her work, “you may forget about me.”
Norma Jean and I dated on and off through high school and then some. We grew up wandering the forest and exploring the caverns surrounding Ripple Creek, running from the hidebehinds and hodags when we stumbled too far into their territory.
The day Norma Jean disappeared, I saw a teakettler scuttling around the shed behind my place. It walked backwards, like they do, and bumped right into the pile of wood I spent all day chopping. Teakettlers don’t ever stray so far from the woods; they’re very shy. It was actually kind of cute – it looked more or less like a cat, but huskier. I had planned to see about trapping it the next day, to show Norma Jean – course, that didn’t happen after all.
I heard about Norma Jean the next morning, on my way to the general store for a new axe; the ax
<da:thumb id="549615782"/> what to say when you can't say i love you anymoreyour eyes were always soft, even when
your voice went hard. for a while,
i treated you like a god and i’m
not saying that i worshipped you,
but i let you hold my hands
and i told you all the sins i carried
in their grooves.
i have since been told that they were never
your burden to bear,
but that doesn’t stop me from aching for you
every time i catch myself thinking
about how it would feel to kiss the girl
two doors down. it’s been a while
since i’ve confessed and i’m not sure
i remember how. the thing is,
i don’t feel that guilty anymore.
the thing is, holding hands is only
ten fingers away from letting go
and we got so good at toeing the line of the cliff
that when you finally jumped, i forgot
i was supposed to follow.
sorry.
i swear i thought i could keep you floating.
i swear i didn’t mean to let the water
into your mouth. sometimes i wish
i could kiss you dry again but i know
that’s not how this thing works, that’s
not the way the galaxies are gone from your eyes..
the galaxies were held in his eyes.
i.
supernovas contained in something the size of a dime
nebulas colliding, impartial, hazy, indistinct in their numbers and forms
the milky way, splotchy, incomplete,
more like a spilled paint mistake than god's masterpiece.
ii.
we sat on his bed, ragged, well-loved like everything else he owned.
we talked about how we'd leave one day,
escape the suburban life,
trade it in for some other adventure.
and i asked,
     "why do you like girls who are ugly?"
he gave me a look, then turned away,
     "i like a girl with stardust in her hair,
     constellations illuminating her face.
     that's why i like you."
he smiled slightly.
maybe he's right,
maybe one day i'll be a starchild, too.
iii.
we were starchildren,
floundering before a polaris stuck atop every streetlight,
and though we followed it's l a good love poem to get you in the moodthere is a sadness that lives within
liars. i told you once that you meant
more to me than myself, but if i were
truly your friend i would tell you to
leave.
i want you to slip from the bed
in the middle of the night while i
am still asleep. i want you to fight
the urge to touch me and trust
that i am honest.
i want you to find your things and
fill your bags with everything that is you
in that place until it is nearly 
empty, and
quietly, 
i want you to fucking leave.
without explanation or one more
ultimatum that you are so fond
of, put that car in drive and don't
you dare come back.
find a studio that
you can afford for two hundred
a month, get a cat, get some
friends that don't matter much
except for filling space. change
your number and if i ever
come begging, pretend that you are not home.
pretend i am some overgrown infant
who has lost their mother (not so far
from the truth,
stuck in a past you won't dare
stick your hands in again).
c caughtwhen I was younger
I used to chase boys
across the schoolyard
and carve their names into
the darkest depths of
my makeshift diaries;
I thought they were my
best kept secrets,
so carefully
tucked away under the
corners of my mattress
(or so I thought until my mother
asked me exactly who
jonathan was and why
my tongue tripped
over his name.)
as I entered
my ripe and pungent
teenage years full of angst
and peer pressure
I found myself falling
or rather flailing
madly into love,
which the first one is
always the messiest
because we’re still not
quite sure what love is
except that it makes your
chest feel tight and
sitting in class next to your now
best-friend-turned-crush
extremely hard--
needless to say he was
neither the first nor last
boy to play with my heartstrings.
but now as I sit on the edge
of adulthood my feet dangling
precariously off its ledge,
the names and faces that
used to line the margins
of my notebooks
have faded to fond memories
and I’ve found myself
traveli ephemerali could tell you it's going to be hard.
i could tell you life is a roller-coaster
of heaven highs and lows that drag
you all the way to the core
of the earth
and then finds a way to somehow pull you
all the way
back
up
so it can break you all over again.
i could tell you he's going to love you-
eventually.
i could tell you to stop worrying about
that first kiss you're not gonna get until
you're six
(teen)
because honestly kissing's going to suck
until you meet him
and maybe even for a little bit after
until you guys get it
just
right.
i could tell you to stop being such a bitch
to that chubby girl in your class
because one day after you move in the middle
of fourth grade you'll be bullied in fifth grade
and then as some sort of fucked up defense mechanism
you'll drop a metal seat belt on a little girl's head
just so they stop thinking you're weak.
i could tell you how it'll feel-
how one morning you'll wake up
drown-
ing
in regret over every mean thing
you've ever said and i swear to g old friends will come 'round againi met darkness in a coffee shop. he was sitting
at a booth and his tired eyes
looked surprised when i slid into the seat
across from him; he said nothing
and i noted that he was younger
than millennia, no older than
seventeen and i wondered why i'd always thought of him as
something ancient. he looked lonely, i thought, like
something left behind. it broke my heart
without me really knowing why.
i think he knew how much i wanted to ask
him; about everything and all things
(which, he later informed me,
are actually different) and the things in between.
but i kept quiet and stared out the window with him as hours
passed and the sun rose and fell. and when the shadows lined
the street he got up and whispered
i've got to leave. i watched him go because
i knew i'd see him again.
(there was a sort of camaraderie between us -
i guess it was because we were two people who just needed
someone)<da:thumb id="568413817"/><da:thumb id="570950289"/><da:thumb id="566328620"/> plate tectonics (of pulling yourself apart)i am all
the ridges
of your knuckles
&
the skin that splits
in two like a fault line
[ this is
  survival
  of the
  sickest ]
a body of contour lines,
divergent boundaries -
can't you keep your bones
buried in the backyard no one wants
to see them seventeenI watch her as I bite the skin on my lips. She picks up the cup languidly, fingers brushing against polystyrene. Her eyes drift upwards and she touches her mouth to the lid.
"You know," she puts the cup back down on the tarmac, runs her hands through her dirty hair. "When you're alone for long enough, you start to get this feeling inside. Like your bones are opening and everything inside them is spilling out."
My gaze shifts down towards her hands and she places them in her lap. I notice how the streetlights are tinging everything yellow, flickering every so often, plunging us into complete darkness. It makes me feel like I'm suffocating, but I don't think she realises. I wedge my chin between my knees. 
"You've got dirt on your shoes." 
In my peripheral vision, I see her eyes sink down to her muddy boots. 
"Yeah," she says. "I know." 
"Why are we sitting in the middle of the road at two in the morning?"
"Because we can." 
I exhale quietly and I can feel the Ju sergei yesenin i'm carving i love yous 
into a brick wall
and you're on the other side of it
and you can't see it. 
you can't even hear
my fingers clawing into it 
as the blood contours
every painstaking line
that i make for you.
i'm carving i love yous 
into a brick wall
and you're on the other side of it
and you can't see it. 
you can't even hear
my fingers clawing into it 
as the blood contours
every painstaking line
i'm carving i love yous 
into a brick wall
and you're on the other side of it
and you can't see it. 
you can't even hear
my fingers clawing into it 
as the blood contours
i'm carving i love yous 
into a brick wall
and you're on the other side of it
and you can't see it. 
you can't even hear
my fingers clawing into it 
i'm carving i love yous 
into a brick wall
and you're on the other side of it
and you can't see it. 
you can't even hear
i'm carving i love yous 
into a brick wall
and you're on the other side of<da:thumb id="527968411"/>



I have nothing to say other than all of you are amazing, and inspirations to me. Never stop writing.

Events!

This year was nuts. I welcomed my cutie patootie niece into the world! I also welcome a new sister-in-law, as my brother married the love of his life, and she joined into our family. I attended prom and the graduation of a boy I loved very dearly, later faced difficulties and a breakup, only to somehow have him wander back into my life. I am beginning to believe he's the love of my life. We faced something rather horrible, and somehow came back from it and came back to each other. The best part is that we learned from it, and he is becoming a better person every day before my very eyes. I applied for scholarships and won nothing! But I'm still trying. My writing style changed. I experimented with a variety of new literature styles. I got my learner's permit, and will hopefully be getting my license in early 2016. I became much closer with my friends, and made some new ones.

I'm trying my damn best, you know?

I'm too lazy to add pictures of everything, so I'll make up for it by showing you how adorable my niece is:



YAY BABIES!

And finally...

RESOLUTION!

I am making the resolution to write more, and to write every day. I'm also making a resolution to be kinder to others, and to really work on being less shy and better at communication. I want to make smart choices, procrastinate less, and work hard to get myself together.

TAGS!

If your work was featured here, you've been tagged to post a wrap-up challenge like this one! When you feature your favorite work, it will tag more people, and the chain will continue! And of course, if you weren't featured and would just like to do this, feel free!

I want to wish everybody out there a very happy holiday! I love you all and will be seeing you in 2016!

1.) I am alive, hullo
2.) I have been making art like crazy. Since taking a new creative writing course in my high school, I have become an editor of my school's literary journal, entered two literary scholarship competitions, and written new types of literature I have never experimented with before!
3.) I am backed up on messages
4.) I kinda miss this place
5.) I'm considering cleaning house and showing what I've been working on. I'm so busy lately, but I do miss this place and all of you
6.) I want to apologize for me being sad and bitter this past summer, and I want to thank everyone on this website for being there for me and being kind to me in my time of bitchiness. As a lot of you know, I was going through a lot, but I've gotten through it. The journals about my problems have since been deleted, as I'd like best to forget about that time in my life, but I want you all to know that your concerns and support were appreciated and helped me.
7.) how are you guys? give me the updates, it's been a few months!! how's life??

Kat, the most inconsistent, flighty writer in all of dA