life isn't worth the songs on my stereo but keep living b/c they keep playing

life isn't worth the songs on my stereo but keep living b/c they keep playing

Jordyn

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[	userinfo	\|	livejournal userinfo	]
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ceiling	[Jan. 10th, 2006\|07:55 pm]
Looking up at her ceiling, while sitting on her bed this girl smiles to herself, blushes, and hugs her pillow. It may seem silly to some, but this is one of her favorite moods. To be so happy that she feels as if she's gonnna burst at the seams. To Be so happy as to fall asleep and wake up witha huge smile on her face. Other people don't exactly know why she's so happy, but if they asked, she'd tell them. It's cause she loves someone, and that someone loves her back. This girl is horrible at writing how she feels, this girl is too nervous to say it in person, because her boy is good at writing and tells her he loves her. so how can she top that? how can she get it across that she loves him? (this girl is trying her best) when this boy talks to her, she smiles so big her mouth hurts. When this boy's around her she gets butterflies in her stomach and suddenly has nothing to say. (see- speechless)but when she does talk, she feels as if what she has to say has no importance. when this boy hugs her, she can feel his hug for hours after. when this boy smiles at her, she gets all tingly in side. when other people ask her about him, all she can do is smile. This girl is afraid to take chances and scared she'll mess something up. but this girl is going to take a huge leap and go right out and say it. I LOVE YOU.
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Seventh Post

[Dec. 22nd, 2005|05:51 pm]

[	Current Mood	\|	curious	]
[	Current Music	\|	Set Phasers to Stun - Taking Back Sunday	]

Is it possible for one to feel like they are writing about nothing, everytime they put the pen to the page? Is it possible to hate what one writes, even though everyone around you loves it? It hurts to think that no matter what you write about, that you are bad at it? Or that when people say its good, they are just lying to you to make you feel better? Or do they tell the truth? You'll never know.

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Sixth Post

[Dec. 20th, 2005|06:09 pm]

[	Current Mood	\|	loved	]
[	Current Music	\|	Dance, Dance By Well...I think you know	]

There was a boy. This was the boy you liked, but would never admit it. This was the boy that had those sad brown eyes you exactly how he felt. This was the boy who nobody liked and everyone ignored. This was the boy who sat in the back of the class, in the corner, head down, knowing that everyone did not care.
That boy did not have a name. His parents simply did not care enough to give one. They ignored him and he found out soon enough that ignoring them back was best. The boy, after years of torment and torture from having no name, and the way his snow-white skin stood out, had learned that the shadows were his only friend.
At school, the shadows comforted him, whispering to him that one-day someone would care and that one day, he would get out from this place. But since not everywhere had shadows, the boy became accustomed to wearing black. His well-loved black sweater was roomy and comforting. The boy wore it everywhere.
The pain from being hated was fresh everyday. It felt like being stabbed with a knife and it stretched the poor boy farther than you'd imagine. Everyday when he woke up, he only wished that he was going back to bed, because in sleep, the pain and hate went away.
His hair was long, and it hung in his face, but it didn't bother him. It was black and curly. The boy used his hair as a hiding place peeking behind it when he wanted to be alone. He wore glasses, black rimmed. They were dirty and scratched, but why did he need to see? No one cared, and he had lost hope of anyone ever caring a long time ago. The glasses were just a burden now.
At age sixteen, the boy now found that every day was repetitive. Nothing stood out anymore. It was bland and he grown tired of it, but he wasn't about to change anything. Why risk being made fun of more?
But then, out of nowhere, a new girl came to school. She was not your typical girl either. This girl had short choppy black hair, that hung in her face, black shirt, and bright white smile. Her smile entranced the boy, and he found himself staring at her. She picked him out of the class, and smiled directly at him. The boy gave her a surprised look.
Since the girl was new, she did not hate him, and when the teacher asked her to find a seat, she found her way to the back of the class. The boy was all-alone in the back, so she sat right beside him.
"Hey I'm Christina." She said, throwing that smile around. The boy smiled back. A small smile, but a smile nonetheless.
"Don't you have a name?" She asked, after a few seconds. He shook his head.
"Why not?" Christina asked. The boy shrugged.
"I just don't." He said quietly.
"Hmmm. I can see you're special. We'll just need to name you, that's all." Christina said, grinning. She flipped her hair out of her eyes.
The boy was confused. It felt weird to have someone interested in him this much. After all, his whole life everyone had hated him.

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Fifth Post

[Dec. 17th, 2005|10:11 pm]

[	Current Mood	\|	restless	]
[	Current Music	\|	Chicago Is So Two Years Ago - Fall Out Boy	]

Is she wasting her life? Spending all her time on a silly messageboard arguing with silly "fans" about who's better or who's more talented? Is she being stupid by having 1762 posts on a website that will never matter?

No she's not being silly. No she's not being stupid. This place is her home away from home. There are people on there that understand her without knowing so. They all talk about the same thing. They all understand what the music means to her. Almost everyone on there speaks the same language of: live. love. music. Why waste time? Because she's not. This experience might seem silly to most, but to her, its like having a second home.

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