To Whom It May Concern...

Empty Promises

Way before we had even traveled hand and hand up the road of romance.
You were already dazzling me with plans that whispered the future I still dared to dream of.
You never filled my head with lies, but with promises.
Promises that I knew long before you completed a sentence were empty.
You continued to taunt me with these beautiful empty promises even when you would slip in and out of time.
I WAS NOT your first love.
I COULD NEVER be your first love.
AND YOU were still in love…with your first love.
But I knew you had feelings for me, and that what too many may have seemed to have been lies were just mere empty promises.
It would have been only a matter of time before I couldn't see me without you.
And if I were ever faced with that problem I'd chase you like the sun chases the moon, and the stars a clear sky.
Unbeknownst to me I had already fallen in love with you.
And even if I could have deafened my heart beat, and calmed the very tremors in my body I’d still feel the love you had for another.
I could still see the fresh “I’m In Love” smile written across your face.
And hear the very tremble in your voice as you spoke the words.
Even if I could have stripped you of it all, and allowed you to continue to believe that the very promises you continued to utter were full of truth I’d still find myself unhappy.
I’d forever find myself in a battle with YOUR very first love.
THE ONE I could NEVER BE.
THE ONE whom you’d FREELY slip into the past to see, only to smile at a now very distant stab wound.
THE ONE I’D have to face every night and every morning.
I’m much too sure that if we were to ever meet we’d bump heads like Optomus Prime and Megatron.
And the real battle for love would rein between us, as we grinned and murmured our battle cries through cold silent eyes.
I was already doomed to slowly tumble in love with you but I refuse to land on the cushion that is made of your empty promises.



COMING SOON...
a
Real
LIVE
Post
of
My
life

Sometimes I feel...

Alone


From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold
,From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.

Edgar Allan Poe

Crazy busy! With classes, piles of homework a day, SAT (aka the "are you smart enough?" exam), ACT, AND preparing for college (applications...BLAH BLAH BLAH). That's not most of it but still I've been busy, lazy, tired, and alone alot lately.

I'm sort of hoping this is just some sick horrible phase of life (lol).

Innocence

So is it at all possible that we can regain innocence?

or am I confusing innocence with sincerity?

You know children are by far the most innocent and honest beings we know.

But then...

its the elderly.

Yes, the elderly they are so innoncent in ways.

They are as small and fragile as children, and everything is new to them.

Idk. I just was wondering, had anyone else noticed that?

I just came from my neighbors house.

An elderly couple, the man is in a wheel chair I remember him before

he found himself there.

I love them, =) they have always been good to me.

But today something wierd happend.

See my neighbor Mrs. B went up to her room to get a card for my mother,

obviously this leaves me alone with Mr.B.

Fragile Mr. B whom I watch quietly, streatching his arm out in attempts to reach out

and get a cup of water.

As he did so he continuesly mumbled under his breath or so I thought.

He then begain speaking aloud to me.

"I'm tired of living." he calmly stated after reciting his date of birth to me.

"You're tired of living?" I mumbled in return.

"Yes, I'm just...tired of it all. My body isn't what it used to be." he stared off.

"And there you sit, you 16 year olds are so beautiful." he smiled then shut his eyes

in a manner that said he was in a battle with what would soon become sleep.

"Thank You." I whispered so low I doubt he'd heard me.

Once he opened his eyes again, and looked past me, like he was looking at

a younger version of himself in the doorway.

His face was calm.

And you know what, as wierd as this all may sound

I think that was a very beautiful moment. Something worth freaking

out about of course, but its like this, when he does I REALLY know he wasn't

in pain or anything.

He was just calm.

He ended the conversation with "I should find someone to talk to" and smiled.

I smiled in return.

It was so nice.

Depressing, but nice if only you all could have seen his face change in thought.

Innocence is beauty.

And I believe it is only once we are older that our innocence returns.

Or maybe its only then that our sincerity returns, I'm not really sure anymore.

Point is , if it is innocence it comes in a more refined and wise manor.

And as young "beautiful" people, we should be more happy about the lives we lead.

And if we aren't well then its plenty we need to work on right?

Either way, take note of how you LIVE.

Because don't YOU want to be the one who has lived a life that holds so much joy

that you can say "I'm tired"?

I do.

Many people say I still have my child like innocence, and in ways they are right.

But when its all gone, I'd like to have the refined version.

=)

xp

xoxo,

Lainey.

Last thoughts...

Here are my last thoughts of you...this is what I promised myself.

Here are the last remnants of you, and I, both of us together.

Here I sit with your symbol sprawled across my chest, in large

capital letters.

No need to describe your symbol with various adjectives.

But here its sits upon my bosom...perfect.

It moves up and down with the short breaths I seem to be taking, all because...I've

seemed to remember you.

This here symbol seemed to go back and dig up the last few things I recall of us.

I seem willing!

Willing to bear all that is you...I know I was then.

I am the minister, and you my Love, you are Hester Pryne.

The symbol is the Scarlet Letter.

It hurts to look at but I have known for a while now that I am to bear it.

I have always worn it!

But you see THIS, THIS IS MY VERY LAST ODE TO YOU.

THAT IS A PROMISE I'VE MADE TO MYSELF!

That this symbol will no longer be a symbol.

And the sharp motions coming from my chest will come to a stop.

And the large capital letters will no longer form a very abstract version of your face.

THIS SYMBOL WILL BE NO MORE THAN A PLACE.

AND YOU, well you will be no more than a memory past that I can only hope to

forget, but know in my heart I won't.

At least not so soon.

But here...here are my last thoughts of YOU.