tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14063761729326602942024-03-13T09:00:08.578-07:00In Between a Past and Future TownChristineee_Marieeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14888594778655773191noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1406376172932660294.post-32818254169748447942009-05-04T09:43:00.000-07:002009-05-04T09:51:34.593-07:00CollegeI can't help but wonder why it seems that finals week has become the most nonchalant relaxing week of my collegiate semesters. It really makes no sense. It seems all the stress and mayhem comes in the few weeks leading up to that hollowed week of weeks. I am sitting in my bed at 11:45 am, having had received a full nights rest, and mildly shuffling through some papers for a take home test, withering my day away by prowling on Facebook, and illegally downloading music and things off the internet. Its pretty much wholly unproductive in the sense of achievements and accomplishments.<br /> I hate school, really. I am sick of going to it, being in it, living down the street from it. I have been going to school since I was 5, which is roughly what like 16 years-ish? I feel like schooling should be the fall back plan to experiences, afterall...thats really the truest way to acquire knowledge, through experience. I feel like going to college is no longer for the gain of knowledge and wisdom, but a practical desire to climb the proverbial ladder of "success" whatever that means. Being successful can mean so much more than merely getting a good job, living a comfortable life etc. etc...<br /><br />This is the great gatsby. And I'd rather see the orgastic green light than the god damned "american dream"...Christineee_Marieeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14888594778655773191noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1406376172932660294.post-42007964455058251842009-01-03T00:06:00.000-08:002009-01-03T00:16:11.655-08:00A Tall Drink of Water...pourin' on down the scene.You begin.<br />At the start you stumble forward.<br />Fall to your hands,<br />your knees hit the grass,<br />Its soft and wet beneath you,<br />And It stains your weathered jeans.<br />You walk.<br />With a little more grace now,<br />In and out,<br />Back and Forth,<br />Swaying, sway, swayed.<br />You swayed for a while.<br />And now you are steady,<br />Like the constant flow of a river,<br />Ordinary and comfortable.<br />But never any less exciting.<br />You weave your way in and around,<br />over and through,<br />me.<br />You realize.<br />Now you feel it,<br />something,<br />So you stumble a bit,<br />once more,<br />but I am sure you'll find your way,<br />you always do.Christineee_Marieeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14888594778655773191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1406376172932660294.post-32870963631958843302008-10-29T20:35:00.000-07:002008-10-29T20:37:34.107-07:00VolcanoI am a like a little girl who hides behind the curtains of her own hair in elementary school. I am like a catapillar, a larvae, collapsed and neatly rolled within a small cocoon. I am not afraid, I am simply taking shelter for when the ice melts, and the ground erupts.Christineee_Marieeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14888594778655773191noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1406376172932660294.post-14536130081910312782008-10-28T23:22:00.000-07:002008-10-28T23:24:09.940-07:00Emotions Stolen From a Julia Roberts Movie<span></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">"i am<br />decades<br />of romantic comedies<br /> concentrated.<br /><br />i am<br />ripped<br />straight out of a 16 year old girl's<br /> diary.<br /><br />i have<br />nothing to give you<br />but my heart and a few unreasonable<br /> expectations.<br /> (for explanation, please see above.)<br /><br />i want to hold your hand-<br /> just like the Beatles song.<br /> That is all.<br />and i want you to walk me home<br />and have awkward phone conversations with me<br /> and never want to hang up.<br />i want to be able to tell my children embarrassing<br /> Stories about our first date<br /> when i kept spilling things on my shirt<br /> and you kept talking because<br /> you were Nervous.<br /><br />i am<br /> really, really, really<br /> mad at myself<br /> because<br /> i can't feel this more<br /> profoundly.<br /><br />i am<br /> simply complicated<br /> and naively wise.<br /><br />i am<br /> a silly girl.<br /><br />i would really like you to love me like this.<br />if we were in a movie, you would."<br /><br />(by K.J.)</span></span><span></span><span><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"></span></span></span>Christineee_Marieeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14888594778655773191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1406376172932660294.post-16120333649324160392008-10-21T00:25:00.000-07:002008-10-21T01:35:14.054-07:00All At Once: A series of confessions.<span style="font-style: italic;">You know that feeling between your eyelids, when you squeeze them tight and shut after just crying, and that warm hot tingle that happens and makes you breathe in deep and spreads the loss and the sad into your blood and bones? Do you know that feeling? </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Then after comes that wet coldness. That hard lump that moves down your throat and remains in the pit of your stomach, like a cinder block around the legs of a drowning victim. You begin to sink.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The worlds swirls, and you are still.</span><br /><br />---<br /><br />I am in love with you. I love everything about you. From your insecurity to your fucking stubborn drunken alter ego. I love even the things I hate about you. I love the things that i know about you, that you try to hide. I love your depression, and I love your smile. I love your anger. Your inability to commit. I love that you are just at lost as I am. But you can never know these things. Because I am too afraid, too weak to tell you. The words are caught in my throat like a clogged drain. No amount of spewing and coughing will push them past the fear of losing you, any form of you.<br /><br />I would rather suffer silently, then lose the contact the friend, the shoulder, the ear, the words, and the expression. the you. I would lose myself for you.<br /><br />---<br /><br />Dear ____,<br /><br /> Regina tried to help me write this. But I feel like there is no other way to explain to you what is wrong with me than to just say it. I love you dearly, and this is quite unfortunate. I am sorry. I hope you can forgive my love. But how I feel happened without my conscience consent. So don't push me too far away. I just needed you to know all the things i was choking on.<br /><br />yours,<br /> Christine<br /><br />---<br /><br />In my mind you are light. You shine through my eyelids when they are closed. You catch my head as it falls. You don't know. Know, how you've changed my life. Altered the seams permanently. Permanently. I just want to pull you into me, and stroke your hair, and kiss your warm face, and hold you, i want you to hold me. I want to feel protected again. I want to stare into your smiling face. I want more than our strange friendship. I want you to change your mind. Its been months now, and I have not progressed from this thought, I've not moved from the place you left me standing, because nothing could fill the void you left. Nothing. No One. No distraction. There is no other touch i want, there is no other kiss i want. There is no other who can possibly compare. You've changed me. You Open me up, and pull me out. I am only real in your presence. You don't see yourself as I see you. All the beauty you give and possess, and all the beautiful words that you unknowingly speak. Let me hold me. Let me. Because I love you, and theres no going back. I love you. Understand, I am a mess in your presence, you shake me. You don't even know it, but you shake me from the outside in. I could love you, the way you should be. Let me show you that you deserve love. Let me show you. Let me in. Love me. Be with me. Because I can't stop what you've started.<br /><br />---<br /><br />you. possess. <span style="font-style: italic;">me</span>.Christineee_Marieeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14888594778655773191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1406376172932660294.post-50948733923815792902008-09-24T11:51:00.000-07:002008-09-24T13:01:28.141-07:00Crystal<span style="font-style: italic;">I should really be reviewing for my essay test on the gender deviations in works by Tennyson, Charlotte and Emily Bronte...however...literature evades me at this moment (this may be due to a lack of sleep, an overzealous imagination, the song 'predatory wasp of the palisades' by Sufjan Stevens thats playing at this moment, the fact I am in the library surrounded by the latterest of latters, my body's tired and overworked state, the emotional release I have had these last few nights from choreographing, directing, and teaching a stage production...etcetera....etcetera).</span><br />------------<br /><br />Oh-baby-doll.<br /> You pretty little<br />Fragile little<br /> Delicate-<br />Little-<br />Girl.<br /> You look so sad there.<br />Your eyes speak.<br /> You cannot.<br />Speak-<br /> voiceless,<br />tame,<br /> trapped.<br />Girl.<br /> Everyone knows-<br />Everyone sees-<br /> Everyone.<br />You're so breakable,<br />one glance and you<br />Shatter.<br /> like glass.<br /><br /><br />-christine m. heiseChristineee_Marieeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14888594778655773191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1406376172932660294.post-60651346793345561172008-08-28T21:43:00.000-07:002008-08-28T22:08:45.405-07:00The RoadOne day I will die, and so will you.<br />Everything that was once animated will one day lay still pressed under the moist earth.<br />One day we will all go back to where we came from.<br />We, humans, are like a novel, or a collegiate thesis, we come full circle.<br />But for now, we are alive, we have movement, and speech, we create beautiful and terrible things.<br />We destroy each other, and many of us sludge blindly through a world of light.<br />We destroy ourselves.<br />We see each other as insignificant.<br />We look to a God to drive us, and give us hope.<br />Some stand back in fear and awe of what is unknown.<br />I wonder if in heaven, or in hell...<br />There is a God who looks upon us. <br />What might this being think of us?<br />I don't not believe he is disappointed..<br />He will live forever, alone, at his post in the world.<br />And all the while, we mankind, walk the earth, knowing our time here is stunted...<br />One day our breathing will turn still...<br />If I were a God, I would desperately envy the mortality that humans possess...<br />We are impermanent, and because of this, each sunrise is more beautiful, each smile more cherished, each day is different, and it will one day end.<br />For the immortal...all but life is permanent, and he will live on looking down on the world with his lonely eyes forever, wishing that he too could see the beauty only man can take from the world, the beauty of the every day, that the end gives us.Christineee_Marieeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14888594778655773191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1406376172932660294.post-15512131033781318672008-08-27T22:30:00.000-07:002008-08-27T22:34:08.914-07:00Collection Thoughts...I just added a bunch of think pieces I have been writing over the last 9 months. And here they are, I have only posted one of these, so I thought I should post them here, I am now ordaining this my new writing haven I suppose.<br /><br />Take a look at the stuff below, it should all be under this date even though much of it is from the time between February and May of 2008. It really makes me think and reflect to read all of these things that I have written and haven't reviewed in so long.<br /><br />Expect more thoughts from me soon, probably tomorrow after class...If I get the chance and find a muse...<br /><br /> oh i have one right now...I think. We'll find out.Christineee_Marieeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14888594778655773191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1406376172932660294.post-33689225440387088122008-08-27T22:29:00.000-07:002008-08-27T22:30:52.370-07:00Piano Bench (Something old that I never posted)<span style="font-size:85%;">Prehaps, I am too reserved to say these things, so I write them, hoping that some inkling of understanding will transgress the page into the airwaves and a tiny vibration will meet your ear and you will sense my heart. You see, I have so many things to say, and I know that I can, it is imperative. And my fear is I will let this memory pass through me and drift away without ever saying what it has meant. You are now apart of the inifinite web that binds us all, and you are part of me, or at least who I am right now. Because, I am always changing my colors, a chameleon, but I am the same in structure: I have two eyes (the color of which I can never quite put my finger on), a nose, a mouth with lips, often playing a soft smile. I have a heart and it beats, and if such things as "souls" exist, I imagine I have one of those as well. Its somewhere above my stomach and intestines, but below my diaphragm and when I breathe sometimes, I feel it rising and falling. And when I chance to stumble upon a moment worth writing about I feel it rattle about, trying to break free, and break out of its fleshy cell. Incarcerated within a human creature. I think, I wonder, "will she ever be free"?<br /><br />And then I realize it.<br /><br />I sit in that moment, and in the future, I think I will sit again in that same moment, and watch it play like a picture show, before my eyes, and in them your face will flicker and reflect.<br /><br />And it is now that I think of all those faces that come together to make up what I most desire, and to formulate a human ideal of what I need.<br /><br />I think.<br /><br />Here I am now, back to where I started, at that point of hazy delerium, where the day fades into the night. I remember now: Gentle fingers playing vehement chords on an old piano, and my eyes closed, I listen, while each note shakes and cracks the holding cell inside me. Just above my stomach, and right below my ribs. It rattles and bends, the bars break. I am released. She is. You bend over the piano, sometimes your eyes are closed, and your fingers move in the light, and every so often they glance up at me, and I am startled, It is hard for me to stare at your eyes for too long, because I see them waving back at mine. The red of your glasses reflects your hands and the keys in your sleepy eyes. There is so much contrast and I take a photo with my mind, and think that I wish I could hold you still so I might draw you, or photograph you, and have you as tangible, raw moment, being who you are. I wonder if you'd even let me.<br /><br />This is the film reel in my head.<br /><br />---<br />(this is only part of a short memoir)<br /></span>Christineee_Marieeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14888594778655773191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1406376172932660294.post-86408350691571218482008-08-27T22:14:00.000-07:002008-08-27T22:23:13.184-07:00I Will Be Grateful For This DayIt was one of those nights, where observation satiates your hunger for conversation and conversation mends you need to be touched....<br /><br />& If the walls could talk, they would sweat.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Someplace between wakefulness and sleep, between night and day, between dark and light, between the hours of 4 and 5 am. I was standing in your basement, surrounded by strangers, all indulging in whatever temporary high they could swindle out of life for the night, giving me something to smile at. <br /><br />I think you noticed my eyes flutter breathlessly, lazily. You guide me to your room, you close the door, and lead me to the bed. <br /><br />I am in an unfamiliar place, ironically the things in this room remind me of familiar faces, and being here is like sitting with an old friend and not having to speak. <br /><br />I take off my clothes, and trade them out for a pair of yours, blue shorts which hang loosely on my hips, my hair is tousled and messy by now. I am content to sleep.<br /><br />I lay down, I look up at the ceiling, I notice the faint light that travels in between the wall and rafters. Voices carry. They murmur in and out of my reverie, my state of unconscious awareness. I pull blankets up to my chin, I feel safe, and the fabric is cool on my skin, it gently breathes on my shoulders, my calves, my toes. (An hour from now I will have unconsciously wriggled out of the cool embrace of your blankets, back exposed). Hours seem to pass, I am not sure if I am asleep or awake...<br /><br />The noisy floor becomes hushed, voices disappear. <br /><br />The door creaks.<br /> I am my eyes flutter.<br />The door opens.<br /> I rearrange my legs.<br />The door closes.<br /> I am too content to turn.<br /><br />I turn to my side. A body softly lands besides me, and arm reaches around my waist, a hand finds mine. I am startled, but too pacified to protest.<br />I feel breath on my ear, my breathing is becoming more sporadic. I am predicting the moments before they happen. My mind is ahead of the action.<br /><br />Lips drag across my neck and a nose caresses my ear. I turn my head, curiosity gets the better of me. This is the calm before the storm. I feel my body slowly being rotated, I am not resisting. And before I can speak, I am beneath him, my heart is clamorous against the walls of it's dark cavern. His hair grazes my eyelashes, His breath is directly over my cheek. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">There are moments, before big things happen, where everything stops and seconds feel like hours. This is one of those moments, right before things change. I am preparing myself for the impact.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span></span><span style="font-style: italic;">My hands are pinned behind me, I am trapped, and I do not want to escape. I think about rolling out from under him, but know I will regret it, if I do. Before I have time to decide lips collide into mine, and I am lost. All reason or logic of the precarious position I have found myself in are lost. I am taken. I wrap my legs around his, we twist, and pull and gasp, and I find my lip caught between his teeth my top lip meets his and I collapse, and roll.<br /><br />I find myself locked on top of him, I press my my hips into his jeans. My hair is a thick mess it brushes his neck and face, he lets me press into the wall, I am satisfied, and I giggle, because he cannot see the smirk playing on my lips. He grabs my head, I give it back to him, I let go.<br /><br />I don’t remember when we fell asleep or when we woke up. It felt like hours. The kisses faded into sleep. Sleep faded into day. I woke up wondering if it was real, or if my imagination got the better of me. It was the kind circumstance, that left you satiated momentarily, but wanting more the instant you come to realize that it is over. It has passed.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I wonder what he thinks.</span><br /><br />-CMH<br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);font-size:78%;" >"And we get drunk and kiss, and our bodies twist like shoe laces"</span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:78%;"> -</span><span style="font-size:78%;">bright eyes</span><br /><br />(rough draft-originally written in March 2008)</span>Christineee_Marieeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14888594778655773191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1406376172932660294.post-38780717940280685472008-08-27T22:09:00.000-07:002008-08-27T22:10:18.579-07:00'After Sex'"Love is not negotiable.<br />not love.<br />Love is a guessing game. & thats the beauty of it! There are no gaurantees...<br />Love is like diving into a pool of water without knowing whether its shallow or deep.<br />& sure yeah, if its shallow you end up hurt and paralyzed from the neck down, but if its deep...you know...<br /> its a leap of faith, its like throwing yourself out there without any gaurantees, dude and thats what lifes about...<br />Okay you know those carnival games? right? <br /> You know how some of them are really hard to win, and then some of them are super easy and everyone wins? Okay well<br /> its just that, thats the difference between love and sex.<br /> Sex is the game where everyone wins a little prize and no one goes home a loser...<br /> And<br />Love is the game thats really hard to win.<br /> But if you do<br />and you get to take home that life sized stuffed rhinoceres...<br /> It feels a whole lot better than taking home that shitty little plastic key chain."<br /><br />---<br /><br />all i have right now is a shitty little plastic key chain. And I pretty sure I lost it.Christineee_Marieeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14888594778655773191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1406376172932660294.post-31862862881796079592008-08-27T22:06:00.000-07:002008-08-27T22:08:06.400-07:00The Love Song of Alfred J. Prufrock: Revisited.He'd ask her "so what are you doing?"<br />She thinks "thinking of how I should tell you I lo...thinking of how i should say: crying...thinking of how badly i'd like to end this right now."<br /><br />She says "just sitting here, listening to jazz...relaxing, you know."<br />He'll agree, of course, and respond to her mundanely, with just enough apathy to force her to spark the conversation, knowing she will.<br /><br />She abides willingly, but quietly disgruntled. She'll grit her teeth, her jaw will become tight. And so it does.<br />Uncontrollably.<br /><br />He asks another follow up question, to appear interested. She is doubting the interest, she believes it to be fake.<br />She'll answer it anyway.<br />And she does, promptly, vaguely, and lacking any certain graces, ones which are to be expected in polite conversation.<br /><br />She is now becoming angry with herself, feeling as though to judged his intentions too quickly, and so she tags on pleasant babble...something unimportant but relevant about the subject, attempting to seem amiable.<br />She does.<br />He remains oblivious to her obvious torment.<br /><br />He replies with three word sentences, and half smiles.<br />She forces an unscathed complacent demeanor, and fakes her smiles, and soft giggles.<br /><br />She now stares upon him, with a loving gaze, but hides it when he turns to glance back.<br /><br />Inside she is reeling.<br /><br />She is at war with her insides, there is a battle going on right infront of him.<br /><br />Still, he will remain oblivious.<br /><br />So he does.<br /><br />She won't win this one, shes sinking. Fast.<br /><br />Shes beautiful, stunning, in fact, and he knows it. Every little inch of him knows it.<br /><br />He feels unworthy, but will mask it with nonchalance, and apathy toward her.<br />She is ignorant to that fact.<br />He will take advantage of this.<br /><br />He doesn't want to make her sway, but he can, it is dangerous water they tread in.<br /><br />He knows, and he causes ripples and waves still. It will become harder for her to stay afloat.<br /><br />She is one small gesture, minutiae compliment, and string of directed flattery, away from letting him have what he wants.<br /><br />She knows.<br />She cannot do what she knows she should, and she craves the feeling of strength for doing what is best for her heart.<br />But she'll give in again.<br /><br />And she does.<br /><br />And still,<br /><br />He<span style="font-style: italic;"> knows</span> nothing.Christineee_Marieeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14888594778655773191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1406376172932660294.post-72406119321156605482008-06-05T20:42:00.001-07:002008-06-05T20:43:19.726-07:00TruthI am so good at masking what i feel that its simply disgusting.Christineee_Marieeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14888594778655773191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1406376172932660294.post-72914363041070064462008-05-18T23:41:00.000-07:002008-05-18T23:42:16.412-07:00MoroseI kissed a boy.<br />Actually, it was more like he cornered me in a laundry room. But thats okay...I tried to resist...at least he was a good kisser.<br /><br />It made me realize that I really do like Dane, and things will not be the same.<br /><br />oh well.Christineee_Marieeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14888594778655773191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1406376172932660294.post-91191756584552418122008-05-14T16:05:00.000-07:002008-12-11T09:32:25.395-08:00Focus<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL71-iG84sFd3694XVj3Z99VD5Sxg29SJl_LocxAb_jhFESqCXqIKqP4HYsR9ehjh786UYv5oKiasDAwPbRKnRCdMf-_N_LqQt4f3YkunSTTIjMuQZf6RkxJgkqmW2j5tcsEUO3AEd2yA/s1600-h/700f4c23728770ef4843b0885128435a.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL71-iG84sFd3694XVj3Z99VD5Sxg29SJl_LocxAb_jhFESqCXqIKqP4HYsR9ehjh786UYv5oKiasDAwPbRKnRCdMf-_N_LqQt4f3YkunSTTIjMuQZf6RkxJgkqmW2j5tcsEUO3AEd2yA/s320/700f4c23728770ef4843b0885128435a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200375885257131714" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><blockquote>Fascinate:</blockquote></span> beguile, captivate, bewitch, rivet, enchant, spellbind, transfix, arrest, enthrall.<br /><br />----<br /><br />The idea, the physicality of a circus has always <span style="font-size:130%;">captivated</span> me.<br /><br /> It seems to be a lot like life. chaotic, and organized all at once, absolutely dangerous, mysterious, but with the comfort of a safety net.<br /><br />It transfixes me.<br />It gives me something to rattle my brain with<br />when my heart is cracked.<br />It occupies my time to think on, when my soul is weary.<br /><br />-<span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;" >CMH</span>Christineee_Marieeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14888594778655773191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1406376172932660294.post-87905150278838172282008-05-13T23:08:00.000-07:002008-12-11T09:32:25.610-08:00Truth<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6YvcnFCCLTxGI7uYjekxeaBnDSBpwzl9-Ksn_-WLcSfhvJUSajHY7bY5qhtTWsDURMGYfMVXETJmkMphgqF6KE3tSiALn3Kgi8dfKamVhET7sOmFT5Ms5bRDRcWU9LwmHkFG9vjK_Kf4/s1600-h/war-music.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 180px; height: 272px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6YvcnFCCLTxGI7uYjekxeaBnDSBpwzl9-Ksn_-WLcSfhvJUSajHY7bY5qhtTWsDURMGYfMVXETJmkMphgqF6KE3tSiALn3Kgi8dfKamVhET7sOmFT5Ms5bRDRcWU9LwmHkFG9vjK_Kf4/s320/war-music.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200112401898423986" border="0" /></a><br />Its hard when you realize, that your hearts desire, is almost completely unattainable.<br />Its even harder, when it becomes the straw that breaks the camel's back.<br />I don't want to let go, I cannot lose this. Whatever this was. It was real.<br />so i won't.<br /><br />Because there are some things in life, no matter how small or how unknown, that are simply worth fighting for...Christineee_Marieeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14888594778655773191noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1406376172932660294.post-77170871133140683652008-04-23T23:39:00.000-07:002008-04-23T23:40:33.048-07:00RealizationI like Dane Matthew Moody.<br /><br />Help me.Christineee_Marieeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14888594778655773191noreply@blogger.com0