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.

Loves

How are you? I just thought I'd role through the blog and say hello to my 6 followers lol. I have no shame in the small number of you all, I personally feel like its something you just accept when you decide to create a blog. Seriously, I doubt anyone comes into this thinking "EVERYONE WANTS TO KNOW WHAT I THINK"...I don't think that anyways. So thank you for reading thanks for following. =)

Have a blog? If I'm not following leave the link in a comment below and I will follow...and yes I actually do read the blogs. I love reading blogs actually.

But thats all...not really feeling the best right now. And I should probably be getting ready for school in the morning rather than doing this...=/. But whatever! I wanted to just say hello to you all, and thats what I am doing.

Keep reading.
I promise it will get better.
Trust my life is very interesting, nothing like this boredom I've spoon fed you all lol.


Peace.
Love.
Words.

xoxo,
Lainey.

Just Thinking...

[If you have read the collaboration I did with @andyxaccidental this summer entitled "Light the Fire"...a series of love letters, then you've probably read this before.]

Attention by Alanna D.


I walked about the park for hours.
I sat in the dark surrounded by the trees looking down at the path only dimly lit by the full moon that towered over me.
I laid down upon a park bench allowing the cool night air to send chills down my spine and raise my arms hair at attention.
Attention.
Attention.
Are you listening to me?
Attention.
Attention.
Are you even looking at me?
Attention.
Attention.
Can’t you see that I am broken?
Broken and alone here without you as you stand at Attention.
I lie in my own arms.
I rock myself to sleep.
I strain to see my dreams through my tears…that only help blur my shattered reality.
All because…I am the only on at ATTENTION!
You say you are fighting to stay alive for me. Yet I am dead, and my joyful presence has only but withered away. Do not fight for what has already died, fight for what struggles to live.
I love may be able to survive any war. But my heart, my heart is so weak…I am surrendering all that I fought for. As the months have dragged on into years I have lost myself within them and I have given up all hopes of keeping myself sane.
Do not fight for what has died.
Only fight for what struggles to survive.

Sincerely,
Yours.

If you haven't read the collaboration, and would like to read it then

hit up the blog here at http://blogs.myspace.com/andyxthexwriter

When I grow up...I want to be a butterfly. You know they only live for a few months. Not to say that I'd want to die early just that. When I grow up I would want to be such a beautiful transitional creature. One that was slow and unattractive, but secluded themselves only to return much more...brighter. My want to grow into a butterfly my seem strange to you but there aren't many words that I can come up, that can describe to you what exactly butterflies mean to me. So instead I feel its necessary to live you with this quote..."It takes a lot of courage to release the familiar and seemingly secure, to embrace the new. But there is no real security in what is no longer meaningful. There is more security in the adventurous and exciting, for in movement there is life, and in change there is power." -Alan Cohen...Or maybe I'd much rather become a tulip. Tulips have always been my favorite flower. I've always found something to be enchanting about such a plant. A random fact about tulips is that they symbolise imagination, dreaminess, the perfect lover, and a declaration of love. I guess deep down I truly am a sucker for a good love story. But I figure every girl wants her own personal fairy tail...I know I do. I'd love to receive a love letter of epic proportions. To be honest I don't know what would be better, being the tulip a small symbol of a declaration of love or being a love letter...the most obvious of symbols? But When I grow up I really want to be a pediatrician! There is by far the most perfect and simply ingenious career! I love children and I love helping people in general. A pediatrician takes care of children, so it pretty much sounds like the best of both worlds to me! I'll only be in school for what...11 maybe 12 years after high school! That's not much and look at who I get to be surrounded by! All the small sweet faces of the young. I think 11 years to do that is a small price to pay, I tell you what!
“Perhaps a child who is fussed over gets a feeling of destiny; he thinks he is the world for something important, and it gives him drive and confidence”
-Benjamin Spock
~~~~~~~~~~~~~V.S.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The question "What do I want to be when I grow up?" makes it feel like I can be and do ANYTHING...sucks that, that's not the case.What I want to do with my life is much more official sounding to me. But I'd like to become an author, a poet, maybe even a visitor to a "Best Sellers List"! Lets just face the facts here I love words. I simply love everything they stand for, every curve and dip in the very letters...I just truly adore toying with the sharp sounds. The way some words mix and others bump heads like crips and bloods. Maybe that's wrong...no one ever told me it was! At first I wanted to become a journalist but everyone just told me it would be much to hard and there is no way I would succeed in that field of work. OK, FINE! Excuse me for having a stupid dream...excuse me for thinking that I'd enjoy speaking to complete strangers, learning about complete and utterly random events. (sigh.) Then I thought to myself you know what they are utterly correct...in turn I turned down my opportunity to intern at Houston Chronicle. 1 point for you all! But you will never, EVER, get me to stop loving the twist of words, good diction, and the curve of an "s" and the dips of an "M". I'm more into novels anyway...maybe I can write become a poet of some sort. I don't know, maybe I can become as great a writer as the woman I look up too. Amy Tan who I simply can't get enough of, after reading "The Bonesetters Daughter" I was sold! The character Ruth...reminded me...so much of, myself. And Kate Chopin, as far as I'm concerned she was an outcast and a rebel of her own time!...But that is all just getting to much ahead of myself. I think maybe if I stay positive enough, faithful, hopeful, maybe if I dare to dream...I can be like them. I can inspire some other little girl or young woman with a passion for writing. So my thoughts continued to develop...I am no dummy, and I've been called that on several occasions! But I began to think to myself...teacher! I was teachers aid for a year...I was given a bilingual student and I had to help him learn to read. It was so fun, granted I had my share of challenges but with the help of his actual teacher, and some patients, the students reading had a great amount of improvement! It was such a rewarding experience that I wouldn't mind becoming a teacher. They inspire, they imagine, AND THEY MAKE CHANGE! Everything begins with teachers...so why couldn't I become one AND do my writing. I can! But no one seems to really hear this part of my plan...of the part that involves me wanting to maybe begin a business of my very own. A book store targeted towards students like me who feel like "unappreciated rappers" lol. It would have workshops and...well a whole slew of things. But when asked "What do I want to do with my life?"...this plan goes unheard. It becomes as soft as a whisper. So I'm thinking maybe I should just ditch my whole plan of action. I mean after all its all pretty stupid once you look at it...me an actual writer! Ha, what a joke...its all just dreams right. Maybe I'll just go back to "what I want to be..." ME!...well at least the younger version of me, the me that wanted to do nothing more than to be a pediatrician. The me that yearned to be surrounded by children.
Just a thought...or maybe a decision...I doubt anyone of you all will ever truly know until I decide to act upon it.

You truly don't deserve a name...

I shall be the death of me.
My very own reflection taunts me.
I quiver at my own inquiries.
Internal conflicts arise just as the sun, my words were always my moon.
Today…I’ve contemplated on losing my moon.
I have stabbed my own self in the back.
I am my very own pathological murderer.
I shall be the death of me…one day.