tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7242927897578883102024-02-07T00:55:40.121-08:00[indecent exposure]The musings of a sentimental heartjane.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02958043417335527765noreply@blogger.comBlogger68125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-724292789757888310.post-3452367725525513762011-03-02T04:08:00.001-08:002011-03-02T04:08:45.636-08:00<a href="http://pinterest.com/pin/1485494/" rel="nofollow" title="pablo neruda (full size)"><img alt="pablo neruda" height="640" src="http://cdnimg.visualizeus.com/thumbs/11/02/03/quote,love,pablo,neruda,poem,sonnet,type-a49d5bc29943528348293da4b190db36_h.jpg" width="640" /></a>jane.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02958043417335527765noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-724292789757888310.post-7102543661051698912011-03-02T04:06:00.001-08:002011-03-02T04:06:35.030-08:00<a href="http://vi.sualize.us/view/c84882d75e98abe43a2a6d7dfc718695/" title="hahaha (full size)"><img alt="hahaha" height="547" src="http://cdnstatic.visualizeus.com/thumbs/11/02/03/c84882d75e98abe43a2a6d7dfc718695_m.jpg" width="640" /></a>jane.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02958043417335527765noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-724292789757888310.post-60879587210516188942011-03-02T04:05:00.000-08:002011-03-02T04:05:46.037-08:00sometimes, my dear friend, i think i am mad.<div style="text-align: center;">i've fallen<em> in love</em>, again. with <strong><span style="font-size: large;">sylvia plath</span></strong>. her journals and poetry and "the bell jar." I cant stop reading it. she<strong> utterly</strong> facinates me. To be so<strong> fucked</strong> up and know exactly how to write about it. If i could bring somebody back, it would be her, just to talk. i bet she'd get me. shes so smart, she found the way out of her labyrinth, even if she killed herself.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">buuuut, it sure won't do much to cheer you up. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://vi.sualize.us/view/d66612c43e89c2cbd0e1ae6bdc708512/" title="~A promise doesn%27t mean a thing anymore~ (full size)"><img alt="~A promise doesn%27t mean a thing anymore~" height="342" src="http://cdnstatic.visualizeus.com/thumbs/11/02/04/d66612c43e89c2cbd0e1ae6bdc708512_m.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>jane.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02958043417335527765noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-724292789757888310.post-30828797327712495742011-03-02T03:55:00.000-08:002011-03-02T03:55:59.471-08:00I, love, I am the pure acetylene virgin attended by roses<strong>I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; <br />
I lift my lids and all is born again. <br />
(I think I made you up inside my head.) <br />
<br />
The stars go waltzing out in blue and red, <br />
And arbitrary blackness gallops in: <br />
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. <br />
<br />
I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed <br />
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane. <br />
(I think I made you up inside my head.) <br />
<br />
God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade: <br />
Exit seraphim and Satan's men: <br />
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. <br />
<br />
I fancied you'd return the way you said, <br />
But I grow old and I forget your name. <br />
(I think I made you up inside my head.) <br />
<br />
I should have loved a thunderbird instead; <br />
At least when spring comes they roar back again. <br />
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. <br />
(I think I made you up inside my head.)" </strong>jane.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02958043417335527765noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-724292789757888310.post-50971328190487030662011-02-09T05:17:00.000-08:002011-03-02T03:49:47.859-08:00end of innocence.<div style="text-align: center;">When was the last time you did something for the first time? Naturally, romantic memories fill your mind now, or fond ones with your closest friends. For me, it was nothing of the sort.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I have scarcely entered the packed night club and my soft feet are already cramping from the high heels. The room's atmosphere is swimming in smoke, strobe lights and the smell of alcohol.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">There are groups of people scattered in every direction, their laughter richocheting off the walls of my mind. A man smacks into me, fleeing from unfinnished business. he reeks of betrayal.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">At the bar i try to get the bartender's attention. The young, rebellious looking man's eyes rose interest in mine as his attention is caught by the hand next to me, waving a wad of money in the air. I look up to see the face that the hand belongs to and it is as if my eyes alone experience ecstasy.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">'Tall dark and handsome' has never been as fitting, as appropriate to anyone else but this guy. His eyes glint mischeviously, his mouth pulls up in a heartmelting grin. He smells like adventure and his pressence gives me a rush.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">He introduces himself, and i manage to stumble over my own introduction. His gaze has an unsetting effect on me, but i push the discomfort away.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">i taste danger as he continues to charm me, seduce me, but i take a sip of the drink he has bought me to take the taste away.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">My head feels cloudy, and it feels as if i cannot complete full sentences in my thoughts without immense difficulty.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I slur my words and i am embarrassed and annoyed at myself.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I excuse myself, hesitantly as i do not want to waste any time with this mysterious man. I grt to my feet and my balance is alarmingly weak. I sway and he catches me, steadies me and with a wry smile, asks if im okay. I nod as my gut feeling is burning a hole in my chest.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I make my way to the bathroom and all my senses feel irreversibly impaired. Everything i see is exaggerated and slow, and i feel as if i am in a tunnel.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Every step i take makes my destination seem further, my body sways as the floor tilts beneath me.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I sit down on the cold toilet seat and the stall is filthy and reeks of urine, smoke and cheap detergent.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I see his beautiful face wearing a sinister smile, and i smell his sweet smell, not adventure anymore but more along the lines of caution, or fear. For a second i am confused, is this not the ladies' bathroom?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">He advances and my sweat freezes all over my skin. I realise, my thoughts are vague, but i know.<br />
<br />
He comes into the stall and with daunting confidence he kisses me like he has been craving me. The sickening sweet taste of marijuana on his lips fills me with intimidation. My throat is struggling to allow me to breathe. I push his hand away when it wanders to my bra strap but he clutches an unwavering grip on my arm, managing to unbutton my tight jeans, his every touch burning traces on my skin<br />
<br />
Battling to shove past him out of the stall, my head slams onto the solid wall next to me. The sting of his hand on my face still lingering like a wicked reminiscence and my ears ringing. Fear and warm, thick, metallic blood fills my mouth. My body still intoxicated with strange dark bliss, i use my last power to fight him off.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://vi.sualize.us/view/83a81aaf555969207f7f68a6f6b352ed/" title="you're not alone / confusedvision (full size)"><img alt="you're not alone / confusedvision" height="342" src="http://cdnimg.visualizeus.com/thumbs/09/10/05/girl,hurt,pain-83a81aaf555969207f7f68a6f6b352ed_m.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
He won.<br />
<br />
With no more might in my entire body, I'm paralyzed, numb, feeling him thrust like a plague, I wither. He leaves, pleasured.<br />
<br />
I'm left there alone, on the nasty, foul reeking, cold floor covered in repulsive substances.<br />
<br />
I lay there, lifeless, pacified.<br />
<br />
Dead.<br />
<br />
On the inside at least. Cold. Gone.<br />
<br />
The end of my innocence. My first time for many things. My wicked reminiscence.<br />
<br />
<br />
</div>jane.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02958043417335527765noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-724292789757888310.post-27787669258961406652011-02-03T02:04:00.001-08:002011-02-03T02:04:39.526-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs5rnzAPDaefMa6slpTEX-VtHEBctxgu2zKoc170F1zgawLnijFYoj-k8xUPaZcMg-YHFJzKTkruPdv4cI_dyH9MCYjOOhST8uzQyzGiECml2-Rtfxl3ztHUWT6r78AHy0L7o78ISVwXc/s1600/tumblr_ldblldtZ761qzk1g7o1_500%255B1%255D.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="285" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs5rnzAPDaefMa6slpTEX-VtHEBctxgu2zKoc170F1zgawLnijFYoj-k8xUPaZcMg-YHFJzKTkruPdv4cI_dyH9MCYjOOhST8uzQyzGiECml2-Rtfxl3ztHUWT6r78AHy0L7o78ISVwXc/s400/tumblr_ldblldtZ761qzk1g7o1_500%255B1%255D.png" width="400" /></a></div>jane.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02958043417335527765noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-724292789757888310.post-81702690547844712122011-02-02T02:48:00.000-08:002011-02-02T02:52:22.301-08:00butterfly suicide.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">so these are a couple of images of banksy's piece <strong><span style="color: #cc0000;">butterfly suicide</span></strong>, this shall be my next tattoo, on my ribs. the right side, since i already have some ink on my left hip. im still playing around with the ideas of colour and size but i kinda love this. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">no, i love <strong><span style="font-size: large;">BANKSY</span></strong>.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqgK9Mr80OQzUJVpf4hH2hevOa4yq3If2AynHnuDLubSHXIE3eByfgRomkk2uYP6HLYvv5f6mun0k7SByR8zZmUT6-2sKRMPbt1ryV3zfFTJSzJ3u6jntNezNrvOjyOKKquBAqFjrfQFE/s1600/imagesCAJIRFMW.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqgK9Mr80OQzUJVpf4hH2hevOa4yq3If2AynHnuDLubSHXIE3eByfgRomkk2uYP6HLYvv5f6mun0k7SByR8zZmUT6-2sKRMPbt1ryV3zfFTJSzJ3u6jntNezNrvOjyOKKquBAqFjrfQFE/s320/imagesCAJIRFMW.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div align="center"></div>jane.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02958043417335527765noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-724292789757888310.post-60087163351953358232011-02-02T02:34:00.000-08:002011-02-03T02:58:57.261-08:00fighting you is like war.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdZBFg-gHrECLoUVjhwdANU_VsF-GD6p-6uZJbhM7-ZtdgzR1wk2I3u8Yi1391QKDK8GwOHTzwyGoscIglTAeBlhJYdCBst7LxFpGGq2ma0LKLdwagFdNX_7WxktDS64ud-TKQ_fjkyJQ/s1600/tumblr_lem941883E1qe9dzqo1_500%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="263" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdZBFg-gHrECLoUVjhwdANU_VsF-GD6p-6uZJbhM7-ZtdgzR1wk2I3u8Yi1391QKDK8GwOHTzwyGoscIglTAeBlhJYdCBst7LxFpGGq2ma0LKLdwagFdNX_7WxktDS64ud-TKQ_fjkyJQ/s400/tumblr_lem941883E1qe9dzqo1_500%255B1%255D.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
lifes so <u><strong>fucking confusing</strong></u> now, i mean especially the whole <em>boyfriend</em> thing, i just dont want to think about it cause then i think about her. i dont want to think about that skank bitch whore girl, really? calm down. everything he does reminds me of her like forfucksakes, i want to forget.<br />
<br />
and yes, i forgave him, for cheating on me, and for being an asshole. mostly cause of what he told me, that one day two weeks ago when he came to me and gave me this 11 page letter, like i really believe him and i know im being stupid or crazy for letting him back in but<span style="font-size: large;"><strong> i believe him.</strong> </span><span style="font-size: small;">what he told me and all. it was.... well, after i read (it and he watched me read it and smoke a ton of cigerettes simultaneously) well i felt like i had to, i wanted to just forgive him and have him back again, i missed him, so much.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />
i can't even begin to explain the last two months, and i know i havent filled you in on <strong>everything</strong> that happened but it was a whirlwind of fucked up events.<br />
<br />
<em>screaming hitting pushing crying smoking drinking notsleeping</em>....i donnt ever want to do that again.<br />
especially trying to stop somebody from killing themselves when your the reason they dont wanna live anymore.<br />
<br />
now that everythings calmed down, it feels weird, like alot is missing. i dont miss the drama, its something else,<strong><em> i miss what used to be</em></strong>.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwpDcmEXeEz5cYF8YOS5QgAsj6z4Di1KWr1MQZmkAeuYcRZkgkQUuZQnKIPxyqCPopg8N1281KPtZaGhhD8t9puoRx_ShYlXs7db6lHj5SbLfALouMYI1RZOKs42ISOnZt7fQG5poCJ3k/s1600/tumblr_lax80sJZFp1qzx5i0o1_500%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="236" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwpDcmEXeEz5cYF8YOS5QgAsj6z4Di1KWr1MQZmkAeuYcRZkgkQUuZQnKIPxyqCPopg8N1281KPtZaGhhD8t9puoRx_ShYlXs7db6lHj5SbLfALouMYI1RZOKs42ISOnZt7fQG5poCJ3k/s400/tumblr_lax80sJZFp1qzx5i0o1_500%255B1%255D.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>jane.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02958043417335527765noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-724292789757888310.post-86589861107380190032011-02-02T02:20:00.001-08:002011-02-02T02:20:39.973-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNCq_GhwAiRvYYYv82WJsN-RP5DOofGrfKUX_4x5CfnSrlEfiiqjpHPY09bOcpLb66QFyzY6f5iT1NwfhEo9JDtqRNRTmkZN0E_1A9SskN4uDTFMFwPgEeRWNt5cyKBSyA5BSS43td6pw/s1600/tumblr_leq953EJnq1qbn6pso1_500%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNCq_GhwAiRvYYYv82WJsN-RP5DOofGrfKUX_4x5CfnSrlEfiiqjpHPY09bOcpLb66QFyzY6f5iT1NwfhEo9JDtqRNRTmkZN0E_1A9SskN4uDTFMFwPgEeRWNt5cyKBSyA5BSS43td6pw/s400/tumblr_leq953EJnq1qbn6pso1_500%255B1%255D.jpg" width="392" /></a></div>jane.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02958043417335527765noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-724292789757888310.post-87551506050932137252011-02-02T02:15:00.000-08:002011-02-02T02:15:30.692-08:00if a body catch a body coming through the rye.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcqkcEjhEe34hboM7Bc0ptkdwm2PiZFibzkHhnthtjMCkLanYH-x_aIarp8APxktE2OtOihobWX7J9Hwhsp8cwZyDQQCU9YzI-h8GKpSrvvzieln_oXC_h0A00i3Gr-UljfIeQSQFg0c4/s1600/tumblr_lf93gstPXr1qb8j7oo1_400%255B1%255D.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcqkcEjhEe34hboM7Bc0ptkdwm2PiZFibzkHhnthtjMCkLanYH-x_aIarp8APxktE2OtOihobWX7J9Hwhsp8cwZyDQQCU9YzI-h8GKpSrvvzieln_oXC_h0A00i3Gr-UljfIeQSQFg0c4/s320/tumblr_lf93gstPXr1qb8j7oo1_400%255B1%255D.png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">hi there,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">so it's been awhile. it feels like thats how i <strong>always</strong> start my posts now. and it kills me, i want to be here writing everyday. so i've just finished reading 'the catcher in the rye' for the second time. i read it once in grade seven or something and no matter how smart i thought i was, i really wasn't. it was completely different this time, and fuck sometimes i really feel like <span style="font-size: large;">Holden</span>. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">in the sense that im so darn <span style="font-size: large;"><strong>crazy</strong></span>, really, i probably am. Ross told me a couple of times now, to see a psychologist or some <em>shit</em> like when some guy tells Holden to see a psychoanalyst.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">well, try being stuck in the elevator of my mind, you'll go crazy too.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyM8g8eDmUKLMu0oqa1V_0BjYPAvtford0Omq8iwOFJnZymidirtaYUOKhihFRZcTgkTLEVb3oAI6qYGpvIn2UyD9MaCfwctkYZbLu87eAO__2ZHSj81JCM1sIfDekU9SHoGsbr3Cq2DA/s1600/20100128-pfph7ij46fi34cahf2u68c4hu6%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyM8g8eDmUKLMu0oqa1V_0BjYPAvtford0Omq8iwOFJnZymidirtaYUOKhihFRZcTgkTLEVb3oAI6qYGpvIn2UyD9MaCfwctkYZbLu87eAO__2ZHSj81JCM1sIfDekU9SHoGsbr3Cq2DA/s640/20100128-pfph7ij46fi34cahf2u68c4hu6%255B1%255D.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">im gonna try posting up one of my high school essays, it was pretty good, maybe tomorrow or something. well it was my favourite one. or maybe ggetting an A contributed to my liking it more than the others.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>jane.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02958043417335527765noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-724292789757888310.post-84693806935170084802011-02-01T21:27:00.000-08:002011-02-01T21:27:18.850-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBZOdV3ZLDLqigSqahyphenhyphen5vd0xNZ9hjTPcatuTFKzI6JbEu9wNDFP3DlXA68wIJGGYK3wCFowHX3XnlFnIG53M0wtOQG4iQIQjuoz8-Y_XFWPvuw7YpMSnlUhraGQbpSyYLrqP0T9-VUmMU/s1600/catcherintherye_design%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBZOdV3ZLDLqigSqahyphenhyphen5vd0xNZ9hjTPcatuTFKzI6JbEu9wNDFP3DlXA68wIJGGYK3wCFowHX3XnlFnIG53M0wtOQG4iQIQjuoz8-Y_XFWPvuw7YpMSnlUhraGQbpSyYLrqP0T9-VUmMU/s1600/catcherintherye_design%255B1%255D.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnVAyd7cI_gkxPHtKueyjs2zdWL4McgCTqhj8VPBzVWuhS7gs5vzQUgja1TydgPPODft-hohNN2fQSZkoPkonjNajMV1-VPImcYeZ0jgNq2fSaMKD702YUHi1Rqx2kKUfApn-Ni12-cFY/s1600/images%255B4%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnVAyd7cI_gkxPHtKueyjs2zdWL4McgCTqhj8VPBzVWuhS7gs5vzQUgja1TydgPPODft-hohNN2fQSZkoPkonjNajMV1-VPImcYeZ0jgNq2fSaMKD702YUHi1Rqx2kKUfApn-Ni12-cFY/s320/images%255B4%255D.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>jane.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02958043417335527765noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-724292789757888310.post-18814133991004483662011-01-17T09:11:00.000-08:002011-01-17T09:11:07.035-08:00<img height="276" id="il_fi" src="http://x92.xanga.com/d8483732406a0251357679/z141869489.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="400" />jane.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02958043417335527765noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-724292789757888310.post-88450765042197833472010-12-22T14:29:00.000-08:002010-12-22T14:29:25.952-08:00Why wont you come over here, we've got a city to love.Today was one of those days that starts off sleeping late, all chilled out and ends in a way you never expected it to. I love those nights. <br />
<br />
So after a massive rib feast at spur with Ross, we picked megan and ginge up to take a drive. Called up Bruce, got 5grams and went up signal hill. I rolled a massive joint, seriously it was fucking colossal. It kinda looked like a bouquet of roses, one of those pineapple express joints. We whipped out the sex camera and had a few laughs. It was a good night. We even dropped by Lauren's place, shes hot. Kinda weird cause she's megans sister, but she has a cute teagan&sara hair cut. <br />
<br />
I smoked so much, even a bit out of the multi coloured pipe we take everywhere but im not too high. But im probably rambling on about that. <br />
<br />
3more days untill christmas, i love the holidays. If only i was back in argentina it would amazing. <br />
<br />
Im going to read 'Looking for Alaska' again, just cause i read some quote from a chicks blog and remembered how awesome that book is. <br />
<br />
Im in bed, ipod blaring in my hears, the strokes are litteraly pasturing my entire body. Juicebox has got to be my favourite song, happy song. Besides any of the xx or Matt&Kim. Why the fuck can i only play the violin? Its an utterly pathetic instrument compared to piano or guitar. <br />
<br />
Blogging kinda high is a daft thing cause if i dont have much of an inspiration i just talk a whole bunch of shit, jumping from one thought to another in the whole city of musings my head holds. <br />
<br />
Goodnight world, see you in the morning with a cigarette and a roadtrip to see stacey since she got kicked out her house. <br />
<br />
xxxjane.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02958043417335527765noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-724292789757888310.post-31369665248879645042010-12-20T09:47:00.000-08:002010-12-20T09:47:37.900-08:00my daisychain.Sometimes i feel so socially awkward, and not with guys, more with girls. Actually only with you. <br />
<br />
I so badly want to talk to you, and show you that we have so much in common yet i sit there like a mute retard, it's just so fucking stupid. I want to get to know you and share my secrets, i want to laugh with you. Thats what girls do right? I think. I mean i do that with my friends but, with you i dont know what my liking towards you is.<br />
<br />
But im so hopelessly awkward around you while you exude the most intrigueing confidence and smell of sweet magnetism. Your allure seems to leave my heart beating in my throat. <br />
<br />
I can't be myself around you, it's not that i think you wont fancy me but im too scared to try so now you probably think im boring and shy. I swear, im not. <br />
<br />
FUCKSAKES, you intimidate me. A considerable amount.<br />
<br />
If people were rain, i'd be drizzle and you'd be a hurricane.jane.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02958043417335527765noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-724292789757888310.post-54884747727193669912010-12-20T06:28:00.001-08:002010-12-20T06:28:56.873-08:00Heart in a cage.I was drunk, the night was ending, beach sand, waves crashing, blunts rotating, and moon lit air made you look unbelievably attractive. So i grabbed your hand, it was warm and sweaty, you just laughed and fell onto me. So i kissed you, but not like i'd kiss anybody, but like you were about to run away. You kissed back, with force. Your lips were hard, but the softest at the same time. Your mouth was wet, and cold. It was good. Naughty. Wrong. But oh so good. <br />
<br />
Then, i floated away. And no longer had control.jane.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02958043417335527765noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-724292789757888310.post-51724106988456496552010-12-20T06:22:00.001-08:002010-12-20T06:22:25.309-08:00Juicebox.Its been weeks. Good weeks. I've been far too busy to post, endless intoxication and just pure bliss. Schools out, i get to spend so much time with ross, everyday infact, i haven't left his side since my last exam practically. <br />
<br />
Days and days with friends, goin away to langebaan. That was the best infact most freaking awesome way to start summer vaca. Tequila is starting to taste like an odd lemon juice. Haha, wait that sounds a tad alcoholic. <br />
<br />
Everythings great, and this post is gonna be like a darn thesis if i thoroughly catch up where i left off. So just know, im happy, things are good. I love life. <br />
And im slowly moving on, it shows when we go out, like last night at La med, i wasn't too bothered with him, i could actually have my own fun.<br />
<br />
When a girl you once knew becomes gilded. <br />
<br />
Oh and listen to The Zutons and The Strokes, im pretty much in lesbians with them right now. <br />
<br />
My mission to get Kings of Leon tickets are looking up! <br />
<br />
I'll start posting more often, but the holiday keeps me occupied. I'll try.jane.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02958043417335527765noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-724292789757888310.post-56617393504535756452010-11-02T02:21:00.001-07:002010-11-02T02:21:18.834-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6bXJlFFNV8OyfOV703qeo4QYOpeyUcwaRW_2wV2IL8Kj2KuMuZWQU0v4Jdam7Cj_wfcHEITGDpAZqP0WWUuwsrdxzvffAe1ozwiKmG88GjNbDIahzNnOsVuvPgtC-r6tiCvy3VLbP0VY/s1600/quotes-2068ea978bcbef7534a0921b5e9e1f3b_m%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="342" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6bXJlFFNV8OyfOV703qeo4QYOpeyUcwaRW_2wV2IL8Kj2KuMuZWQU0v4Jdam7Cj_wfcHEITGDpAZqP0WWUuwsrdxzvffAe1ozwiKmG88GjNbDIahzNnOsVuvPgtC-r6tiCvy3VLbP0VY/s400/quotes-2068ea978bcbef7534a0921b5e9e1f3b_m%5B1%5D.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>jane.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02958043417335527765noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-724292789757888310.post-57197901941213773262010-10-20T07:15:00.001-07:002010-10-20T07:15:06.159-07:00I've lost myself.Shut the fuck up. Seriously. <br />
<br />
You are so damn irritating, im going to pull my hair out. <br />
<br />
Stop talking, stop lecturing, stop trying to dictate. Its my life.<br />
<br />
I can't wait to leave, to get out of this place. To live on my own. <br />
<br />
I can't wait for Freedom.jane.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02958043417335527765noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-724292789757888310.post-52095181970393449892010-10-20T02:44:00.000-07:002010-10-20T02:44:09.833-07:00backstage sluts double drop.<div style="text-align: center;">im getting giddy thinking about this weekend, its <strong>spring tide</strong>. party on the beach, camps bay. i made my own high waisted denim shorts out of moms old jeans from the sixties. they look cool. everybody around me - as in my friends, not the rest of these s<strong>crewballs</strong>- are so pretty. not that im shallow or superficial, im just happy they're all so stunning.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">im in a <strong><span style="font-size: large;">happy</span></strong> mood today. im bunking my life skills class, it's pathetic anyway.</div><div style="text-align: center;">ross is coming by after school and we had a cryptic <em>heart-to-heart</em> last night so i want to talk to him. its easy to talk to him. i just say everything and anything.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">even the thinhgs i don't admit to myself.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">i just want to put on something other than this hideous flowery dress, indulge in something alcoholic, talk and laugh and be with my friends. oh and a <span style="font-size: x-small;">dunhill</span> would be swell. a whole box would actually be a slap-up.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>xx</strong></div><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9YTR1otF_IJODNWuwJAkv4keRACf8nJRxbPAui425ol4H4reI5QRehPHzf4NslekfOxpAHB4omgpps-EEqsI8BIQUhRK3fLfqYCXi1mv4eaSwN47f5fysnfCGu1mChvQIv8Z098fnFAM/s1600/demons,thoughts,words,bad,girl,party,quotes-d57fbaacbd2c267175c7716b34733c33_h%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9YTR1otF_IJODNWuwJAkv4keRACf8nJRxbPAui425ol4H4reI5QRehPHzf4NslekfOxpAHB4omgpps-EEqsI8BIQUhRK3fLfqYCXi1mv4eaSwN47f5fysnfCGu1mChvQIv8Z098fnFAM/s400/demons,thoughts,words,bad,girl,party,quotes-d57fbaacbd2c267175c7716b34733c33_h%5B1%5D.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"></div>jane.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02958043417335527765noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-724292789757888310.post-72853160550640764432010-10-20T02:14:00.001-07:002010-10-20T02:14:32.508-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMduQ5EV-Rnniv6apUuA3mBcyYTi4Fn9I6U-A4R3H30WHnRi_mZvA3dHdTHOIJ6oz7oAVup7RcHBY30U3zXOj-pF176OBmYUYK4TKz5cozm3j04HS6eFGYQRC1IhQ8qvCZO_-7ifBxSLk/s1600/quotes-a9360c12f8ad7b372ffa03829735a0e5_m%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="342" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMduQ5EV-Rnniv6apUuA3mBcyYTi4Fn9I6U-A4R3H30WHnRi_mZvA3dHdTHOIJ6oz7oAVup7RcHBY30U3zXOj-pF176OBmYUYK4TKz5cozm3j04HS6eFGYQRC1IhQ8qvCZO_-7ifBxSLk/s400/quotes-a9360c12f8ad7b372ffa03829735a0e5_m%5B1%5D.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>jane.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02958043417335527765noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-724292789757888310.post-76545310433896858572010-10-18T05:05:00.001-07:002010-10-18T05:05:14.649-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqjcTw5lvekbxEVi0zNhyIfzHOlCNqTrQtbhUXBAze4XxZFRtwFM1Yox_ucXMr5dldaapnGFGiItwoXSvzZZExWHCZBbltxilPdDqetpErd__WHpDXE_TMicwToT-ofRLBAU82Id3FggA/s1600/bb9b20c3e28f63118666a5a36d398423_m%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="342" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqjcTw5lvekbxEVi0zNhyIfzHOlCNqTrQtbhUXBAze4XxZFRtwFM1Yox_ucXMr5dldaapnGFGiItwoXSvzZZExWHCZBbltxilPdDqetpErd__WHpDXE_TMicwToT-ofRLBAU82Id3FggA/s400/bb9b20c3e28f63118666a5a36d398423_m%5B1%5D.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>jane.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02958043417335527765noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-724292789757888310.post-33827096264425873892010-10-18T03:30:00.001-07:002010-10-18T05:01:15.911-07:00This abuse feels like home.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://ffffound.com/image/494353ff224487e5d4ea1ca4a76baf360b3402e4" rel="nofollow" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="http://fc03.deviantart.com/fs31/i/2008/233/1/d/float_on_by_pakpao.jpg (full size)"><img alt="http://fc03.deviantart.com/fs31/i/2008/233/1/d loat_on_by_pakpao.jpg" height="400" src="http://img3.visualizeus.com/thumbs/08/11/04/photography,friends,grey,peaople,swimming,tone-5643c92827bba759fddd1f47f7ff97a8_h.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">The past weekend's been very busy, eventful, fun even. Actually shockingly lurid. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">The mexican kitchen was, well thinking about it now makes me want to go back and just eat all their food. Rafiki's was well everybody knows how that is. Fun. And then marissa and i went to claremont. Tanta and tin roof was unhinged. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Needless to say i was intoxicated for most of my weekend as usual. I might just have a little situation on my hand.</div><br />
<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha-JiM8doFL_-ITD-D1Skbc9a24Y0UQzN8zDH5tobEL_-OzBLYqrbUzl4sCMJabycZsHqVPoDhAbTB4S08lScpkWAk7mjKP_9hrgCdOfv8tGJ5IZUD-Jw4PZmBp2_Wf1u46wzwHV9FKpk/s1600/better,be,better,saying,pics,words,quote,amazing-5805ec659d0d16227877353e513d005d_h%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha-JiM8doFL_-ITD-D1Skbc9a24Y0UQzN8zDH5tobEL_-OzBLYqrbUzl4sCMJabycZsHqVPoDhAbTB4S08lScpkWAk7mjKP_9hrgCdOfv8tGJ5IZUD-Jw4PZmBp2_Wf1u46wzwHV9FKpk/s400/better,be,better,saying,pics,words,quote,amazing-5805ec659d0d16227877353e513d005d_h%5B1%5D.jpg" width="328" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;">I think that ross did a few demented things this weekend, like intentional alcohol poisoning to see if i'd care enough to tell him to stop before he jumped off a really high balcony. But, it was stupid. So i just told him to be less of a nitwitted bonehead. One i actually care enough about to stick around for. </div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://vi.sualize.us/view/ariadne_jones/59289d46a2f33fb131a842228f7ca1ae/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="masa da by ~pOhpOHh on deviantART (full size)"><img alt="masa da by ~pOhpOHh on deviantART" height="340" src="http://img3.visualizeus.com/thumbs/08/10/05/breakfast,cigarette,coffee,photography,smoke-59289d46a2f33fb131a842228f7ca1ae_m.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I always moan, and talk about him. But i guess this is why i started this. To aimlessly babble about the bullshit nobody else wants to hear about all the time. Sometimes i can't verbalize any of this anyway and when i sit and write it just comes naturally. This will be my place to come and be elated and euphoric or wistful and deplorable. This will be my kitschy place.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"></div>jane.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02958043417335527765noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-724292789757888310.post-73704688436016603362010-10-18T03:30:00.000-07:002010-10-18T04:44:36.470-07:00Linger.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVwuhwnhAmCxA4GwKv3r4UZqVqgJWhNW45xknlALvHD-yYroz6tXdXQYaIcnYT0B-qmRYAZGCE7-8HhFDzVKVC-AlBzhlLxhTQbgQ5n9xKf_F-tIzQKDN37Y-_EftqhZDvMMeMZyAZiHU/s1600/ff463e976dbd24f58277774208d01e05_m%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVwuhwnhAmCxA4GwKv3r4UZqVqgJWhNW45xknlALvHD-yYroz6tXdXQYaIcnYT0B-qmRYAZGCE7-8HhFDzVKVC-AlBzhlLxhTQbgQ5n9xKf_F-tIzQKDN37Y-_EftqhZDvMMeMZyAZiHU/s320/ff463e976dbd24f58277774208d01e05_m%5B1%5D.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
I haven't been here for awhile and so much as happened. <br />
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We broke up, and it felt like things were falling apart. But when everything you've ever wanted can be epitomised by one person, its inevitable that you're going to give into them. That they'll win, that you gonna have no more strength left to fight against what both of you want. And, even though he fucked up, whats the point of not being together if you know that nobody else will ever match up or come close to them? Right? <br />
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Or have i slipped back into the naively stupified by love state that i worked so so hard to climb out of? <br />
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What you won't do, do for love. You've tried everything, but you don't give up...i've been listening to this song all of last week. Tupac's made nostolgia a whole new emotion. <br />
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When you break up with somebody but still spend everyday with them, it doesn't really serve the same purpose, so i give up. Im yours.jane.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02958043417335527765noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-724292789757888310.post-8805167322434179872010-10-11T11:24:00.000-07:002010-10-18T04:42:42.498-07:00The good ones.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7mkAFcnUVxfKlf8S1kTjF-5mR1AdNrALyqKcZyfiQsMrgsHGOF70XCtQQRyOYLpJgBGOiJy9qzGwvU6V0CJCvxBYrqCMUaAMteskn6nJWBfS-wvlZIiolN28Ub7STen6DOaf7TWdfIfs/s1600/b225ab23f1b00a60f2e98ab1908dc617_m%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="342" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7mkAFcnUVxfKlf8S1kTjF-5mR1AdNrALyqKcZyfiQsMrgsHGOF70XCtQQRyOYLpJgBGOiJy9qzGwvU6V0CJCvxBYrqCMUaAMteskn6nJWBfS-wvlZIiolN28Ub7STen6DOaf7TWdfIfs/s400/b225ab23f1b00a60f2e98ab1908dc617_m%5B1%5D.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
They say that its your heart thats suppose to be broken or hurt but i feel like my whole body is broken. It aches and i cant make it stop. My heart is pounding so hard that i cant think straight, every shiver makes me well up again. I have this deep pulling sensation on my chest and i cant breathe. Im choking on my tears.<br />
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I've always knew, yet today i decided to admit it to myself. Im probably growing up right? Everybody lies, everybody hurts you. Why did i even think that there was a slight possibility that he was even a tad different? <br />
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Its over.jane.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02958043417335527765noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-724292789757888310.post-17074900354267021642010-10-07T11:10:00.000-07:002010-10-18T04:41:19.073-07:00Phantom limb.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWvdWWY-g_sYVbEhYWSOLvEphcYj0r_lg_yLCXuVMCeBXTeyyMgj1b5pmAe-16bWObm2RW4IaqvTkqM3RO8Du7gdxDczUskvksbppA158rKG9rIKxqcYDr89cX8-eDJdjVVv7ILTduIGw/s1600/70fe3a97c4a249bc310b63994ed97c6b_m%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="342" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWvdWWY-g_sYVbEhYWSOLvEphcYj0r_lg_yLCXuVMCeBXTeyyMgj1b5pmAe-16bWObm2RW4IaqvTkqM3RO8Du7gdxDczUskvksbppA158rKG9rIKxqcYDr89cX8-eDJdjVVv7ILTduIGw/s400/70fe3a97c4a249bc310b63994ed97c6b_m%5B1%5D.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
I feel like im screaming. Im screaming so loud but you're not listening. None of you are. Maybe you just don't hear me, maybe you don't want to hear, maybe im chaffy.<br />
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I can't anymore, i can't keep on trying when i know its all just in vain.<br />
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These thoughts keep swimming around my head, i want them to get out, to go away and let me be happy.<br />
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Let me be oblivious to whats dragging me down. Down to where i don't want to be. Where i really won't have anybody but myself cause really? Who wants to be dispirited and gloomy, rock bottom with anybody when you can be towering and intoxicated on life with somebody else. If i had you, i wouldn't ever be melancholic.<br />
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Around you im all giddy and rhapsodical , so listening to me. Hear me. I just want to talk. No more screaming. Lets just be us together.jane.http://www.blogger.com/profile/02958043417335527765noreply@blogger.com0