Dear Mr. Carnovale

I've been feeling overwhelmed. I work at a restaurant, so they tell you when you start but fail to enlighten you as to when you finish. I've worked for half an hour before, and on Saturday I worked for 10 hours. I've got 17 pages that I need to finish in my massive art sketchbook, our next assignment is called our Art Instillation. It's basically taking a room inside of the school and turning it into whatever you want (like a haunted house sort of idea). So we need to have pages of thumbnails and ideas for what it's going to look like, pages of writing down any idea that comes to mind, pages of research to know more about what we're talking about. Pages and pages and pages. And I've got about 4 done. Next I have a graphic short story due for writers craft, which is a lot more work then it may look like, I have to draw the pictures and outline them in pen and the colour it after I outline it, then bind it. I need to make a title page and do character profiles and all of that shit! Not to mention the fact that I'm presenting a play tomorrow night. My drama class has been working our butts off to make this show hilarious and wonderful. But between practices, working, school, sleeping and eating I don't have time to draw, outline, colour, research, thumbnail, character profile! Heck, I hardly even have time for myself!
So there.
It's all out on the table now, I'm being worked like a dog. (also to add to that list is, I also need to regularily write in my blog.) Like right now, I'm supposed to be getting ready for work, I'm supposed to look pretty for once in my life, but no. The customers of TeeJays are just going to have to be satisfied with a fugly hostess because I have to write in my blog. -_- (I'm slightly bitter with a pinch of anger!)
So.
Mr. Carnovale, if you're reading this, I hope you realize that more then ANYTHING in this world, I would really like to move out of this stupid house that I live in and go to British Columbia, and the only way to do that is to get accepted at UBC for my Bachelour of Arts for English, and it's going to be pretty dumb if my writers craft mark is shitty. SO, take into consideration the fact that I hardly have a social life, because I'm constantly working my ass off either at work, at school, or doing schoolwork at work!
(The tone in which I said all of that varies from reader to reader.)
I hope you enjoyed my cathartic bitch fest, I wish you all well. However, as I have to go to work so as to get mentally undressed by dirty old men I need to go and put in some effort and look somewhat pretty.

Sedate Me

Sedate Me.

Hold back your tongue.
Cause there’s nothing to say. No, not today.
And you’ve come undone.
But there’s no where to run.
You’re trapped inside your skull.
The thoughts begin to take, control.
And you thought you were so strong,
but this can’t be so, when it’s too hard to hold on
And it’s so cold, and there is no one.

Well I didn’t mean to do it, but it felt good.
Open up these wounds, I never should.
Actions speak louder than words,
And I’ve been screaming. But no one was ever listening.
So, here it is.
My silence. But screaming loud for the world to hear
I’m not okay. Sedate me. Sedate me.
And put me where I belong.
So here it is.
Loud and clear. I’m not okay. So sedate me.

Tie up your hands.
Cause there’s nothing left to do. No, not for you.
(not for you, no not for you)
And the battle is won.
But there’s no where to run.
Scared of what these people say to you.
And the battle is won.
And there’s so much blood.
You need the truth
But when you die in the war, who will avenge you?

And you thought you were so strong,
but this can’t be so, when it’s too hard to hold on
And it’s so cold, and there is no one.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rxsoBZG3ZyU
That's a rough video of me singing this song that I wrote, I'm going to rerecord it soon enough in an actual studio instead of my bedroom! -_-
I hope you enjoy it! :)

Fall Short

Put a scythe to suicide
And a razor to the rage
Flip all of this over and start on a new page
Pop some pills, for the pain
Take a shot to stay sane
As long you can sustain the fact that your brain
Isn’t the same
As the rest in the game.

You’re different, a sore thumb, a freak
Originally unoriginal, a fuck up, don’t speak.
Say nothing.
You’re words, mean nothing
You, mean nothing.
And this, is nothing.
You will, feel nothing.
Take a lighter, to weakness,
But you can’t defeat this
And this is your purpose
So you’d better embrace this
And get up and face this

[sing]
Take, all of me.
Piece by piece, let me see
Each, shard of glass,
All the cracks. All the imperfections.
Let me, have them now.
I’ll take my flaws and bear them, bring them. Create them.
Never destroy them.
I will be imperfect.
I will not be perfect
I will do my best, but I will fall short, I promise.

Beautiful? You’re not.
Personality is shot, so nothing’s all that you really got.
But to you, nothing’s a lot.
A friend who sees?
A friend who speaks? Not at all for you and not at all for me.
Does your back, it bleed?
Do the knives push free?
Betrayal is all that your eyes can see
The tears still stream
Like rivers caressing your face
Dying to be embraced, but fake is all you can create
And the only friend you have is hate
And hate hates you, and love hates you
And they hate you.
Look at what they made you do.

You’re different, a sore thumb, a freak
Originally unoriginal, a fuck up, don’t speak.
Say nothing.
You’re words, mean nothing
You, mean nothing.
And this, is nothing.
You will, feel nothing.
Take a lighter to weakness,
But you can’t defeat this
And this is your purpose
So you’d better embrace this
And get up and face this

[sing]
Take, all of me.
Piece by piece, let me see
Each, shard of glass,
All the cracks. All the imperfections.
Let me, have them now.
I’ll take my flaws and bear them, bring them. Create them.
Never destroy them.
I will be imperfect.
I will not be perfect
I will do my best, but I will fall short, I promise.

[whisper]
You’re different a sore thumb, a freak.[/whisper]
Crack you open, and see there is nothing
My heart is so small, it’s hardly apparent
And where are the parents?
They can’t control us
Cause we’ve taken over
Depression controller
And the pills are so weak
To the strength of the pain in my mind all the time and I don’t know just why
I turned out just fine, but that is a lie cause look at me die inside all the time and I want to just fly
To the world of no pain, no suffering no tears
But they are so selfish they just keep me here.
Every breathe that I take is just a new fear
Cause I know when I let you in, you’ll break me
From the inside, so I cannot hide
You know I’ve tried
But this hide and seek, left me empty
I’m so empty
And your words are empty, just like me.
Hollow. Sorrow.
I don’t know.
I don’t know.

You’re different, a sore thumb, a freak
Originally unoriginal, a fuck up, don’t speak.
Say nothing.
You’re words, mean nothing
You, mean nothing.
And this, is nothing.
You will, feel nothing.
Take a lighter, to weakness,
But you can’t defeat this
And this is your purpose
So you’d better embrace this
And get up and face this

[sing]
Take, all of me.
Piece by piece, let me see
Each, shard of glass,
All the cracks. All the imperfections.
Let me, have them now.
I’ll take my flaws and bear them, bring them. Create them.
Never destroy them.
I will be imperfect.
I will not be perfect
I will do my best, but I will fall short, I promise.

Perfect? Not at all. Stand around let’s watch her fall.
Her throne is so high, so that when she cries
We can dance In the rain and absorb all her pain.
But your tears refresh the thirsty people, and bring to life all the dead
So don’t you feel stupid for screwing up instead?
The dead climb the base, the live scratch your face, bleeding on earth but we don’t give a fuck
Because you have fucked up, we rebel
And we won’t sit back and take it.
Tears, you cry you bleed.
You don’t even know what you did to me.
The dead jump ahead, and stick knives through her skin
Her beautiful skin,
She’s an empty shell,
Cause inside there is nothing,
When you stab her in the back, no blood pours out
Only lies and lies and a little of hate
But she’s lucky cause unlike blood, lies never go away.
Immortal she becomes, but she screams out in agony
They will not stop until they avenge me.
I scream stop. Stop. Stop.
I can’t watch her die, cause then there will be two of us,
Why would I want her to die?
I’m already dead. I don’t want to have her be anything like that.
I can’t stand being the same.
But I’m the one to blame, I guess.
Take this.
I’m afraid.
I’m afraid.
I’m a fuck up, a sore thumb a screw up a freak.
But don’t you dare ever put that throne next to me.
I can’t bear to listen to the words that you speak.
This is me, take it or leave.
Well you took off,
And not just your clothes
It’s raining tonight, but that’s how it goes.

You’re different, a sore thumb, a freak
Originally unoriginal, a fuck up, don’t speak.
Say nothing.
You’re words, mean nothing
You, mean nothing.
And this, is nothing.
You will, feel nothing.
Take a lighter, to weakness,
But you can’t defeat this
And this is your purpose
So you’d better embrace this
And get up and face this

[sing]
Take, all of me.
Piece by piece, let me see
Each, shard of glass,
All the cracks. All the imperfections.
Let me, have them now.
I’ll take my flaws and bear them, bring them. Create them.
Never destroy them.
I will be imperfect.
I will not be perfect
I will do my best, but I will fall short, I promise.

What It Takes To Be Good Enough For Me

VS.

What It Takes To Be Good Enough For Me.

If you can see my ribcage, protruding through my skin
If you can see my ribcage, protruding through my skin
Then I’m finally thin

I’m not good enough, good enough.
Take a scale, any scale and make it weigh 0
Choppin limbs off just to lose more weight.
All they’ll be able to say, after today is she, has nice waist
Cause that’s, all thats left of me
I drained all the water from my body
cause that was taking up too much space
I motivate myself by starving for three weeks
Then I finally get to eat a feast, of
Air.

If you can see my ribcage, protruding through my skin
If you can see my ribcage, protruding through my skin
Then I’m finally thin
Then I’m finally good enough, good enough

I’m not yet good enough, good enough.
Pick a size any size, and make it be 0
I’ve got more legs than calories
This toothbrush is good enough for me,
Fingers work too, pens and screws
Just enough to lose, a few more

If you can see my ribcage, protruding through my skin
If you can see my ribcage, protruding through my skin
Then I’m finally thin

I’m not yet good enough, good enough.
I’m not yet good enough, good enough.
Maybe I’ll be good enough, good enough
Take a scale, any scale and make it weigh 0
If you can see my ribcage, protruding through my skin
(Fingers work too, pens and screws
Just enough to lose, a few more)
If you can see my ribcage, protruding through my skin
Then I’m finally thin


I wrote this song, and I'm currently in the process of recording it. (I have a knack for writing extremely difficultly and my producer is bitching about how much work it's going to take to write music to this, because apparently I broke a lot of the rules, which.. is what I intend to do until the day I die.)

Anorexia and Bulimia is so terrible. It's something we've all seen, and we all know of. Eating disorders are just sad people. Just sad. I did a project about Eating Disorders last year, and I showed a website that a girl made to give her some thinspiration. It was the saddest thing I've ever seen, and I'd show it to you, except it's been taken down (my guess is by the site administrators). It had pictures upon pictures of skeletons, and tips on how to lose weight. (One was called the "Opaque Cup Trick" where you spit your chewed food into the cup and dump it later so no one notices. Another recommended that you turn down your thermostat because you burn more body fat if you're cold, because your body has to work extra hard to create warmth.)
My mother has had an eating disorder for the entirety of my life. She's skinny, but not skinny enough. She's the product of a husband who never tells her she's beautiful, and never treats her like she has any worth. She eats half a cookie, she skips meals and is constantly taking something to help her lose those 5 extra pounds.
I've been anorexic by choice and not by choice. Once because I thought I was hideously overweight (This was in grade 7) and once because my depression got so bad, food wouldn't go down my throat.
This song is sattiracle, but there is a smidgen of truth within it.

Falling Asleep In Paradise

(Trail of Lies - Jedi Mind Tricks)

I'm playing with this idea of falling asleep in paradise.
It's ironic and incomprehensible. I mean if you're surrounded by perfection and beauty, why would you ever want to close your eyes.
The reality that we live in is beautiful. The complexity of it all, the fact that the way our heart beats and the spots on a cow are in sync, the way that the ripples in the desert and the formation of an embryo are in sync. It's all mysterious and wonderful, and yet here I am. I'd rather not. I'd rather not take part in staring at the blue sky. I'd rather not listen to the melodies of the birds, I'd rather not feel the sun on my skin. I'd rather not. I'd rather not count the raindrops as they whisper their secrets. I'd rather be asleep. Maybe this is paradise, and I'd rather be asleep. I'd rather be in my dreamland.
I'm slightly afraid of saying all of this. I'm afraid of going into complete detail of how screwed up I truly am. I've put my parents through hell and back, and not because I've ever been rebellious, but because of trips to the hospital on my own accord. The countless tears I've made my family cry simply because I cannot be happy. I've taken their hearts and incinerated it, and even still, I'd rather be asleep.

Graphic Short Story

So I have to do a short story for writers craft, however I have to make it a graphic short story. -_-
The project inspired me to read both: The Watchmen and Maus, both wonderful books that I would highly recommend for someone looking for a new read. Personally I enjoyed Watchmen more, but maybe that's just because I'm such a fantastical person, plus I'm a huge colour person and Maus is done in black and white. Black and white is very appropriate however, because Maus is about a Hallocaust survivor, and Watchmen is about superhero's!

So for my graphic short story I'm going to do some depressing thing, because after all, it is written by me! And.. when do I ever write happy things? ;) It's of course inspired by reality, all of the written world is inspired by reality in some way or another! A gilr in hell commenting about God. The comments about God are all my thoughts, my personal experiences. The hell part is basically what I see, what I live in only it looks pretty damn beautiful. She takes some pills that she bought at the Happiness Shoppe, and then continues to commit suicide. Which then sends the viewer to pictures of her quickly opening her eyes as she lies in bed, and the whole first page of the story is repeated.
Taken somewhat from Dante's Inferno, though I've never read it. (I did read the Gargoyle, which talks alot about The Divine Comedy.) The fact that in Dante's hell, successful suicides turn into trees, forever as trees which lose their leaves and grown new ones. However the process of losing the leaves is so painful, and yet it happens, again and again and again. The sense of helplessness that my story gives I think is really powerful. It doesn't matter what you do, you can't be happy and you can never escape hell. (How morbid Michelle, how wonderfully like you!)

Is This Remotely Funny To You?

http://rawstory.com/rs/2010/0405/video-shows-forces-firing-killing-reporters/

How far has our world fallen? How fast have we slid down this downhill slide?
We live in a world of technology, a world of instantaneous communication, and yet it took about 3 years for this video to get released!
Freedom of speech? That doesn't exist.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QkkLUP-gm4Q&feature=fvsr

Look at that shit! And the government and the people in charge sit on their thrones laughing at us stupid fools who swallow all their spoon fed lies. Maybe I'm paranoid, but maybe I'm right. This man got tazered for asking a simple question "were you a member of the skull and bones secret society?"

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Skull_and_bones

Skull and Bones is a secret society housed at Yale University, and if you look at the long list of people who have been in it, you'll know almost all of their names. That's how influential these people are. That's how big these people are. In all honesty this has all been recently revealed to me, I'm no expert on our government systems. I was asleep for most of civics class, doing what I usually do and slacking my ass off until the day before the exam! However, though I'm not very educated on all this subject matter, it still has the power to evoke strong feelings of anger inside of me.
How can the leader of a country justify hurting someone simply because they asked a controversial question? If they're hiding something like this from us, then what else are they hiding? It's no secret that governments are liars, that they have secrets and skeletons in their closets.
(What about the third building that fell on September 11th 2001? How come no one heard about that one, y'know, the one that just fell on it's own accord without a plane crashing into it? It's kinda funny how the news stations just simply forgot to tell the world about that one hey? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ImW6DppIyDc&feature=related)
How do we trust in a government with such a shaky foundation, if you'll excuse the pun ;)? How do we trust these "just" men who laugh at bodies getting run over by trucks? How do we believe that war is going to solve anything when our soldiers are referring to civilians as "bastards".
"It's their fault, they shouldn't have brought their kids into a battle."
How can someone justify their actions, how can someone justify murder by saying "they were in the wrong place at the wrong time, they deserved it."

Maybe I'm crazy and paranoid, let me know what you think.
Is this remotely funny to you?

Words Make Me Immortal

I’m giving up writing and I’m giving up reading.
Just like I’m giving up speaking and I’m giving up breathing.
I’ve reduced my self and I take refuge in the hands of apathy
And the parents are running scared cause they can no longer protect me
And it’s funny, cause they’re scared of myself, they fight daily to protect me from myself
It’s For my own health they say, and they try and take me away
And they can take me anywhere in the world but I’ll still hate theses classrooms
“listen boys and girls!”
Let’s talk about boys, naw let’s talk about girls
Let’s talk about me, cause I’m the most important one in the world
You see, this face is a rock and boy I can make you harder, and crumbling off,
You’ll be the light, that got too close to the moth
I break more hearts then I do pencils.
You listen to this, but this is my gift,
I’m forcing you down like rape victim
And you don’t even notice as I pour the poison in
Imagine, just imagine for sec
What if you had something I want? Do you doubt my words could get it?
You see I don’t say I love you in four letters, I say I love you in paragraphs,
carefully constructed to tug at your heart strings
It’s just a spell though, a deceitful little lie
Cause when I’m 6 feet under, my words will also die.
You’ll look back and see that you never really cared
But something indefinable, something was always there
My letters, my words, and I can tell when you catch the spell
Cause you’re returning my verse, like you showin it off for show and tell.
I’m giving up writing and I’m giving up reading though
Cause it’s been made clear to me, how deep my wounds can go
You struggle cause those physical blows have nothing on you like a girl who takes off her clothes
But my words are like glass the dig down deep, and every step that you take you push it in further
And soon enough your footsteps resemble bloody murder
You don’t even own me, yet you still try to control me
What do you think that I’m stupid?
Isn’t that ruthless? Don’t I deserve the truth from the surface?
Am I even worth this?
Don’t I deserve the risk?
No, cause I don’t even deserve to live.
That’s why I’m giving up speaking and I’m giving up breathing
Because I still feel empty even when I’m eating.
And I know that I could hollow you out like a jack-o-latern
But it’s about time that I crash and burn
About time that I learn for once what’s good on this earth
And maybe one day when they dig up the dirt
They’ll also dig up a chorus or verse
And recite it in their heads or bring loud to the sky
And for that small amount of time, they can be larger then life
They hold the world in the palm of their hand and decide what to do with the living and the dead
Cause maybe one day when they dig up the dirt, they’ll also dig up a verse
And recite it in their hearts or bring it loud to the sky
And know that though I’m 6 feet under, my words will never die.

A Writers Life

I'm so into this. I've been writing since I was born, I've been a writer since I was born. Before I could even spell I had pages and pages filled with scribbles, then the alphabet, then stupid little stories that are garbage now that I look back! I've got notebooks piled beside me, canvases and paints, books, pencils, pens, a typewriter, a computer, and my music. I've got a half consumed can of gross tasting iced tea. I'm grateful for all of the things that I have.
A writer doesn't just write, a writer experiences. Which just goes to show that anyone who has ever experienced something can write.
For some reason George Orwell's reasons for writing has been something that has stuck in my head despite the fact that I learned it from an evil English teacher.
Writers write for: Sheer egoism - we just want to hear ourselves talk/force other people to listen.
Aesthetic Influence - We like the way words sound together, the beauty of the English language.
Historical Impulse- To record history
Political Purpose - We want to change things, improve the world by showing the world it's faults through words.
Personally I am at the stage of aesthetic influence, I love English, I love writing, I love the beauty and freedom it has to offer. I love it all.

"Upon my word, they will shout at you, it is no use protesting: it is a case of twice two makes four! Nature does not ask your permission, she has nothing to do with your wishes, and whether you like her laws or dislike them, you are bound to accept her as she is, and consequently all her conclusions. A wall, you see, is a wall... and so on, and so on."
Merciful Heavens! but what do I care for the laws of nature and arithmetic, when, for some reason I dislike those laws and the fact that twice two makes four? Of course I cannot break through the wall by battering my head against it if I really have not the strength to knock it down, but I am not going to be reconciled to it simply because it is a stone wall and I have not the strength."
- From Notes From Underground by Fyodor Dostoevsky.

Which Came First The Chicken Or The Egg?

The Egg, cause I'm never going to be referred to as a Chicken.
Remember when I was his world? ;)
HA as if.
As IF anything's changed.
Let's get serious though. Let me explain all of this.
I had a boyfriend. For 9 months.
I met him through a friend, and we'd stay up until 2 in the morning talking on the phone.
But he had a girlfriend.
But he was my best friend, I loved him a lot! But he had a girlfriend.
Call me a magician if you will, but I charmed his ass so well!
He left his girlfriend for me before he had even tasted my lips (but don't think he didn't try! [I don't do cheating.])
We had this crazy thing, honestly, he was head over heels in love with me, and I was into him too! But it was obvious to see that the affection was equally balanced, and for the first time in my life it wasn't because of me! He was more into me. He was the one that needed me, and don't get me wrong I needed him, but just not as much.
He dropped the L bomb, and I dropped it back and we exploded eachother, reduced to ashes. It was great, we went to Portugal together where I met his entire family! We were everyone's ideal couple! Everyone, all they had to say about us was "They are what a perfect relationship looks like!"
They weren't looking hard enough.
A typical summer day would go like this:
wake up,
call him,
go to his house,
go home,
call him,
go to sleep.
wake up and do it all over again.
We breathed eachother. To the point where we could spend long intervals on the phone in silence, not an awkward silence, just both our minds were focusing on other things like.. living.
It's all good, right?
Wrong.
I felt this crazy feeling inside, some kind of need to breakaway that I didn't understand.
I told him about it and we talked it over, but the feeling never really went away. I'm just good at supressing things that I don't want to talk about.
So months went by, about three I guess, and by the ninth month I was done.
I'm easy to read. An open book if you will, so he knew it was coming.
So y'know what he did?
He cut himself.
He sliced open his wrists and walked across roads with his eyes closed.
He came to me with a flower and begged me not to leave.
I looked at his wrists with memories of long ago and said okay.
I will not be responsible for this boy's suicide.
But the next day I knew that what I did was wrong.
So, start the scene
TAKE TWO:
ACTION!
Blame.
"How could you DO this to me Michelle? I was with you in your darkest hour, and now that I'm going through mine, what are you doing?"
He never said it but the implication was there "you're LEAVING!"
So. Guilt trip me.
I stayed.
Couple weeks passed by...
TAKE THREE:
ACTION!
He tried crying, he tried guilt tripping me, so I guilt tripped him right back.
He left.
We still talked on the phone
I got drunk, meaningless kiss.
Goodbye forever.
Not a month passes, and hello NEW GIRL!
Facebook is a creation made by the very evils of this world!
So-and-so is now in a relationship with So-and-so. (L)
Ego?
Crushed.
Remember when he said that he'd do anything for me?
That if I wanted to leave he'd fight until the death for me?
That anyone that ever hurt me, he'd kill them?
Well he got his new girlfriend a carnation for valentines.
Bitch he got me a rose when I was breaking up with him.
He calls you pretty?
He called me beautiful.
I see what he says to you and it's funny, cause he said similar things to me.
But there was more passion.
Cause there was a burning love in all of his words for me.
Cause I came first.
And it's funny that he thinks he can replace me.
Let me just tell you.
I am not someone that you're going to be able to replace.
ever.


oh and you want to hear the funnier thing?
She's a writer too!
HA
been der done DAT! ;)

Perfection

I'm curious as to know what perfection looks like. What does love look like?
If you could put those things into an object, how would you hold it? How would it feel?
I don't really know what people do on a blog, I guess they just talk. That's the thing I love about writing, when no one else will listen, you always have the page. It's actually kind of sad really. We've got so many of those pages filled, does that mean that no one in the world listens anymore?
I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I don't know what I want to write on this blog about, it should have a purpose other than some boring documentation of my life.
I need to create a character that you'll fall in love with. Someone that will instantaneously steal your heart. She'd be an amazing singer, someone that could sing your heart right into the palm of her hand. She'd be beautiful, she'd have long dark hair with full red lips that you can't help but think of tasting. She'd captivate you with every single word she speaks. Yet you'd be afraid, nervous at just the thought of her. Butterflies would awaken your senses at every waking moment when her scent touches your nose. You dream of her hair on your pillow, and her body in your arms. You'll feel empty without her. Yet you're completely aware that she's not real.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
I'm not sure I quite believe that.
There will always be that truly beautiful person that no matter who looks at her, she'll be carrying your world on her shoulders.
It's a fantasy of mine to be that girl.
To be someone important and beautiful. Of course if beauty is in the eye of the beholder, then I am beautiful to someone.
I'm just going to have to find that someone who can convince me of it myself.
I can't be convinced though. It's just so wrong! I can't allow someone to hold me up, because when they go away I'll fall. I am rebuilding my foundation.
No more sappy love ballads written with no music, just melodies.
I'm in a relationship with myself. I'm that perfect girl, that beautiful girl, and if you think any differently, then you need to get to know me a little more.
It's a blessing and a curse how easy it is for people to fall head over heels for me! :)

Welcome

I started this blog for my grade 12 Writers Craft class, but I'm not the type of person to only put up school shit.
I'm an odd person, and my mind is usually a dangerous place to travel but I'm sure you're reading this for a reason.
One thing you need to understand about Michizzle is that I am in constant flux, ever changing and never ending. I'll contemplate suicide on Monday and talk someone out of it on Tuesday, I'll be intraverted on Wednesday and extraverted on Thursday. I commonly describe myself as either a rollercoaster or a trainwreck.
I'm under construction currently, tearing apart the old pieces of myself and becoming someone that I know nothing of. I once was a silent person who allowed herself to be a doormat, but something inside of me changed and I've been awakened. I'm not going to take your shit if you give me shit. If you're a douchebag to me, don't be a bitch when I'm a douchebag back.
I'll never start a fight, but I'll never walk away from a fight.
I'm becoming someone that I've been wanting to be, and I'm not sure if what I'm on the path to becoming is still what I want, but in the end it's happening. I'm walking and realizing that I will not let a single soul oppress me any longer.
I refuse to be a tiny bug squashed by your desires. One thing you're going to have to face the fact about is that I'm more important to me then you are. You're going to fuck up, you're going to break my trust and hurt me, you're going to let me down I can't rely on anyone but myself!
Perhaps this will only create solitude in my life, who really knows? I'm still on the pathway to perfection, or perhaps I'm on the pathway to destruction.