dream

The woman darted fowards at an alarming speed, her fingertips gripping away at the bedsheets until her knuckles turned pale white. As her eyes shifted around searching the room she had been unconscious in, her heart continued to race within her chest and her mind drifted back to the dream she had just spent what seemed like an eternity trying to wake up from. Even the voice that had spoken the warning seemed vivid in her mind, each word emphasied by the horrid actions accompanying them.

The voice had said:
".. It had always been that the sun revolved around the earth, that the moon rose at night and shyed away before dawn to hide from the day's crude light. Though it had always been so, as time passed and humanity continued to flourish, the world's natural flow began to fade, instead to be replaced by a chaotic cycle of reversed night and day, of monsoons and earthquakes and possibly, at the end, ultimate darkness..."

Unrealistic Reality..

.. of chain mail?!

Everyone gets chain mail at least a dozen times in their lives, whether due to cellular devices, e-mails, and so on. They all come in different arrays, from the "10 years bad luck if you don't send this to 20 people" to the "if you send this within 10 minutes your true love will realize he loves you at midnight" and even, sometimes, the colorful ones that get sent 6 times between a circle of friends, measuring how much you're loved by how many times you get the same pointless and redundant message.
Today however, I received two of the same texts from both my sister and best friend within the course of 3 minutes about a gang innitiation that would happen tonight (Wednesday). The location where the Gang-shoppers would select their target would be wal-mart; but which supermarket, let alone what city and state were not even mentioned. The message also stated that it was women who were the intended victims.
A situation like that, as you gather, would cause the store to lose massives amount of money, since they are wal-mart after all, but that's hardly the point. Any chain letter that is expected to last cannot reach my eyes: all I do is read until I realize what it is and delete it. But in a situation like that, I wouldn't help but wonder exactly whether it was true or not.

crazy in the membrane

I find it interesting how different people lose their sanities in different ways. Some, like Hamlet, lose theirs in violent and terribly horrifying manners with bits and sprinkles of paranoia added to the mix; while others do so in unoticable fashions.

I am losing my sanity, and accompanying it is my patience. It seems that after all my life, it's at this point that the things that keep me grounded seem to be ready to abandon me, using the stress from life and family as an ex tcuse. Family more, it seems, is the cause of it, so as they slowly fade into nothingness, their absense is hardly noticable by the common and untrained eye. I am calm, for each ounce that leaves me, and submissive, though I'm far from that type. It's almost a ploy: as sanity gets replaced by insanity, the human vessel becomes submissive to prying eyes, seeming weak instead of crazy and feroucious.

I have not completely dissapeared as of yet, and until that breaking point leaks forth, I hope - nay, I pray that I may find a way to reverse it. I am already a mystery to myself, not knowing my moves and intentions as much as a stranger might, so to have to get to know me through bouts of insanity seem hardly fair.

common weeds.

A figure sat at the edge of the ground, feet barely resting against the floor where water met earth. After a long and agonizing sigh, as if she could exhale all her pains away, she tilted her head back, long curlettes of silver splashing around her shoulders in weightless clouds as her eyes searched the sky for the moon she so longingly wished could call to her, draw her from this world. Her lips parted open slightly to make way for a whispered prayer before she reached fowards, slender fingers leaning forth to brush their tips against the smooth surface of the moonlit lake, awakening the water with gentle ripples. Emerald orbs raised from the distraction the moon's reflection offered and her thoughts rushed fowards with the intention of drowning her under their pressure.

For twenty two years she'd never felt her life taking such a drastic toll for the worse. For nearly all her life, she had never seemed so lost and hopeless, without so much as the possibility or hope of it getting better. Her life was meant to be better, and greater, and it seems that all that warranted was an even further fall into nothingness, into worthlessness.

As she fought to push back the thoughts that would bring forth her unnatural end, she lifted her gaze to the shore across from her, her sight brushing over her surroundings, the scent of orleanders and forget-me-nots so heavy in the air, covered by that of soft pine. It was irony, it seemed, but that's how life always seemed to be: Ironic.

She pulled her hand from the lake and a weak smile formed itself across pink lips; such a sad smile, really, and as she leaned backwards and welcomed the feeling of the ground against her back, she willed the coolness of the earth to seep within herself, cooling her core.
The scent of the flowers rose up stronger around her, crushed beneath her body, and as she slowly dazed away, all she seemed to remember in her last conscious moments were the name of of her favorite flowers; not even flowers, for the were nothing more than pretty and common weeds...

Forget me not...

not a minute too soon.

This morning I woke up with Pandora sticking her tongue out at me. When I mimicked her, she pulled it back in only to stick it back out at me. She's 10 weeks old now, and everyone says she's grown since I got her, which I'm insanely thankful for. A couple of days ago we had to take her to the vet because I was starting to get worried - call it a 'spidey sense' if you want to, though it's more like motherly senses. The vet said that she had roundworms, hookworms and something called coccidiosis. I was ready to freak out, and I mean full fledge 360 head-turning. After paying a sum way too high for three simple medications and a weeks time later, she finally started getting better.

To be honest, I'm half tempted to go back to the guy who sold us to her and smacking all his brain cells out of his head through his nose. Stupid jerk would have let her die.

box of nightmares

We've finally managed to get a puppy, my love and I. After so much wanting, we found one that was affordable and a breed that I wanted.
We had set out on the road at 6 pm to go pick her up and didn't get to the owner's house until 9 pm. *3* hours worth of bloody driving had me pissed and wishing with all my heart that the drive wouldn't have been a total waste - that I at least liked the dog at least the slight bit. When we finally got there and saw the last two remaining puppies, we absolutely loved them. They were both ebony, but the one we chose however has a few minimal markings of ivory - a small touch on her chin as if she'd been drinking milk, down her chest as if the milk dripped down her front and the tip of her two hind feet as if she dipped her pawns in the saucer of milk.
She is absolutely gorgeous, with eyes of a deep emerald. As my patience wears thin with stupidity - and I've seen my fair share of stupid dogs - I prayed that she'd be intelligence and have a personality. So what was I really given, aside from an absolute beauty? I'm the proud owner of a two month old Cocker Spaniel and Pikanese mix with more personality and intelligence then that of more then half of the human population.

For that, I named her Pandora.

drive not

Ask a group of people to participate in a random survey and ask them which gender they think drives more recklessly or with no skills. The winning answer will brobably be 'Female'.
To make this ramble short and sweet, let me clear something up: As much as it pains me to admit it - truth is still truth - the greater population of women honestly can't drive, and I cannot understand the reason behind it. It may be due to distractions, applying eyeliner in a row of cars waiting for a red light to change, or the simple fact that they don't apply themselves but that does not, in anyway, mean that all women can't drive. Do not get it twisted, this isn't to elivate the male population on a pedestal they'd probably adore being on, because most men can't drive either. So why, if someone can't drive to save their life, do they do it? To put the people that can drive in danger, along with the passengers in the vehicles involved? How selfish.
To drive, it must be assumed that you can read and understand the significance of the color being used. You don't willingly try to run a redlight unless you know what you're doing, so why, amongst all that is holy and pure would you avoid a red and white sign with the word 'STOP' capitalized on it, in a crowded parking lot, to boot.

Again I ask, why must it be ruined for those of us who can and enjoy the task of driving.