<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2796137342720394334</id><updated>2011-07-07T14:51:32.707-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Las palabras de mi alma</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artisticdisaster32.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2796137342720394334/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artisticdisaster32.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>kfingram</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>10</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2796137342720394334.post-7125132692579738375</id><published>2009-09-03T19:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-03T19:51:18.329-07:00</updated><title type='text'>An experiemental piece of work</title><content type='html'>I open my eyes to initial darkness. I sense a light switch within reach, but my movement is limited, for I am glued to the floor. It is the floor of my on bedroom that holds me hostage. My eyes adjust to the darkness and I am able to sense the light of a lone candle. It is only illuminating to what is in my surrounding space. The scent is of pomegranate, and although familiar, it only increases my anticipation and fear. The eyes are the only way of knowing. I make out my bed, my furniture, and other material items, but nothing is in reach. The bones in my feet have begun to mesh with the wood in the floor. My feet have now sunken into the ground and I am placed without mobility. I listen for the faintest sound, but there is nothing. I am left to my inevitable silence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A door resides in front of my presence, and placed upon the door is a full body length mirror. I am forced to gaze back at my reflection. Is it real? I begin to watch the reflection dance and flicker due to the light of the pomegranate candle. My right arm swiftly and effortlessly lifted to the glass in one fluid motion. My finger reaches out to touch the image reflected in the glass, and upon experiencing contact the image begins to glow. I continue to gaze, and I subconsciously bite my lower lip. The image in the glass does not repeat my action, but instead begins to grimace as blood now drips from her lip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The glowing image with blood trickling down its lip instills a distinct emotion. I trace the outline of myself as a child. I am alone and an open gash on my upper thigh prohibits my movement. The blood has instilled a lasting fear that will never leave me. It is quiet, and I begin to cry. I cry because of pain and I cry because I am alone. I want nothing more than for another human being to be with me. I need to grasp a hand, to hear a voice, to smell something other than my own blood. I am wet from my tears and my leg is soaking in the thick red water. I desire a mothers touch and without it the pain intensifies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was my sister that came to my rescue, my sister. I flash forward and the roles have reversed. The room is crowded and I am facing the wall. My own hand is intertwined with my sisters, but my eyes are unable to glace behind to view the birth and beginning of creation. As I grasp her hand within my own I can sense the pain and energy being drained into my palm. There are connections to memories that I have never before noticed. My fear of blood, my desire and need for physical touch, and my need for love. It all begins to make unusual sense, but I still desperately need something more, for I am internally empty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the intensity settles and I am finally left to myself, I walk to the bathroom and my tired face is staring back at me in the mirror. I brush my hair away from my cheek with the side of my hands, and with that swift motion, the aroma of pomegranates enters my body once again. I am still staring at the reflection and I hope my eyes will deceive me. My stomach begins to churn and my emptiness dwells with in me. I begin to vomit violently. I collapse helplessly and drift to dream while the pomegranates fade, dance and sew the empty seam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am standing in my bedroom. The sweet aroma that follows me has dispersed through my surroundings. My twisted reflection still remains to block me from my escape. I stare at her bleeding lip and at her upsetting appearance. It is my face, but not my emotion, and although my emptiness has not yet been filled, repairs have commenced. I have several answers to what was previously unknown. My fear of the reflection and her bleeding lip is a direct effect derived from experience. I understand why my love is unconditional and why my need for others is so vital.&lt;br /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;I turn my head to the window. Light from the sun has enhanced the darkness of my bedroom. I am now able to remove my feet from the Velcro floor. I am both refreshed and exhausted all in one. I swiftly grab my keys and run to my car. I quickly throw my keys in the ignition and roll my windows down. I insert my favorite music and I drive alone until my perception of the world in this moment is no longer vague.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2796137342720394334-7125132692579738375?l=artisticdisaster32.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artisticdisaster32.blogspot.com/feeds/7125132692579738375/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2796137342720394334&amp;postID=7125132692579738375' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2796137342720394334/posts/default/7125132692579738375'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2796137342720394334/posts/default/7125132692579738375'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artisticdisaster32.blogspot.com/2009/09/experiemental-piece-of-work.html' title='An experiemental piece of work'/><author><name>kfingram</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2796137342720394334.post-3316055239099267273</id><published>2009-08-19T19:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-19T19:14:56.731-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tres cuentos, poemas, y emociones</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mi matrimonio&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;estoy casada con una palabra. una persona. un sentimiento.me canso de la presion. quiero llenar este vacio y volver a mis raices.voy a caer en el ciclo. otra vez. estoy deprimida a causa de los eventos que pasan y occuren.yo se que DEBO ser feliz y yo DEBO ser contenta.yo quiero vivir libre. sin duda. sin presion. y sin la idea que yo TENGO que hacer lo que los demas me piden.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;estoy enamorada, pero no estoy enamorada con mi vida ....con la vida del futuro que estoy esperando a vivir. voy a conocer a alguien o algo que pueda comprenderme. yo voy a escaparme de las emociones fuertes y las pensemientos peligrosas....pero primero yo tengo que esperar. hay personas que yo he dado promesas. yo tengo que llenar las promesas antes de que yo pueda salir. estoy casada con mi vida y con los elementos de mi vida. no hay razon. mi matrimonio con las senimientos de la culpa van a morrir. una dia yo voy a sentir ninguna presion o peso en mi pecho. no voy a llorar por las emociones pasados y voy a vivir en mi realidad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;no hay accentos por algunos palabras.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Alfligida&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#99ffff;"&gt;Todo esta cambiando&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#99ffff;"&gt;Estoy cansada y mi cuerpo tiene frío.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#99ffff;"&gt;Este vacío que ha entrada en mi alma me mata.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#99ffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#99ffff;"&gt;Como una mariposa sin alas, mi vida esta rota.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#99ffff;"&gt;Esperando....pero nunca encontrando una vida más rica.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#99ffff;"&gt;Todo que tengo es una cara faltando el color y las palabras.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#99ffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#99ffff;"&gt;Y las palabras me duelen.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#99ffff;"&gt;Yo creo que es mejor que yo no digo nada.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#99ffff;"&gt;Pero la boca esta abierta y las palabras salen.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#99ffff;"&gt;Como un anímal feroz&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#99ffff;"&gt;Las palabras y los pensamientos vuelan y me cortan.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#99ffff;"&gt;Ellos encuentran el vacío y hacen una casa rota.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#99ffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#99ffff;"&gt;Los elementos de vida son imposibles de alcanzar y no puedo creerlo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#99ffff;"&gt;Llego a ser una persona muerta y rota.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#99ffff;"&gt;Pero no es raro y no es la primera vez.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#99ffff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Sin Razon&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff99ff;"&gt;Como el ciclo del sol y la luna, mi alma sigue una calle muy largo. Encontro differencias cada dia. Estoy cambiando todo el tiempo. Cuando vas a encontrarme? Cuando vas a decirme que yo debo hacer? Todo que yo oigo es el taciturno. Yo estoy preocupada por el futuro, la corazon, el mente, y mi vida.Todo de los elementos estan mezclado en un lago pequeno y puro. Mi alma esta perdido en este lago entre la verlad y la realidad falso. Mientras la cuerpa fisical es expectado que mantener una cara compuesto. Yo estoy esperando para algo y yo quiero que tu llegues muy pronto.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2796137342720394334-3316055239099267273?l=artisticdisaster32.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artisticdisaster32.blogspot.com/feeds/3316055239099267273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2796137342720394334&amp;postID=3316055239099267273' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2796137342720394334/posts/default/3316055239099267273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2796137342720394334/posts/default/3316055239099267273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artisticdisaster32.blogspot.com/2009/08/estoy-casada-con-una-palabra.html' title='Tres cuentos, poemas, y emociones'/><author><name>kfingram</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2796137342720394334.post-6613658242577958640</id><published>2009-04-01T19:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T19:32:21.975-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't seem to like</title><content type='html'>guacamole.&lt;br /&gt;alchoholics.&lt;br /&gt;losers.&lt;br /&gt;bad procrastinators.&lt;br /&gt;druggies.&lt;br /&gt;big cats.&lt;br /&gt;bitches&lt;br /&gt;fake dissorders for attention.&lt;br /&gt;controlling assholes.&lt;br /&gt;never having kaitlyn time.&lt;br /&gt;jerks.&lt;br /&gt;manipulative words&lt;br /&gt;manipulative people.&lt;br /&gt;drama queens.&lt;br /&gt;dramatic whores.&lt;br /&gt;crazies.&lt;br /&gt;friend suckers&lt;br /&gt;fish.bad&lt;br /&gt;energy.&lt;br /&gt;high school.&lt;br /&gt;fake friends.&lt;br /&gt;anxiety.&lt;br /&gt;being stepped on by everyone.&lt;br /&gt;being critisized for being assertive or making a positive change.&lt;br /&gt;being used.confrontation.&lt;br /&gt;uneccesary confrontation.&lt;br /&gt;failing papers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2796137342720394334-6613658242577958640?l=artisticdisaster32.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artisticdisaster32.blogspot.com/feeds/6613658242577958640/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2796137342720394334&amp;postID=6613658242577958640' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2796137342720394334/posts/default/6613658242577958640'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2796137342720394334/posts/default/6613658242577958640'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artisticdisaster32.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-dont-seem-to-like.html' title='I don&apos;t seem to like'/><author><name>kfingram</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2796137342720394334.post-9181003688189003332</id><published>2009-02-01T13:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-01T13:54:25.988-08:00</updated><title type='text'>new =)</title><content type='html'>I sit here now.&lt;br /&gt;Reading these past blogs.&lt;br /&gt;I'm different now...last post was...who knows how long ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm cleansed of several bad "influences" as of now.&lt;br /&gt;Friend is a cheap word and used too often...and many people are just looking out for number 1.&lt;br /&gt;but that's okay =)&lt;br /&gt;because maybe it's time i looked out for myself.&lt;br /&gt;in a postive way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully, i'll be writing some new blogs and poetry.&lt;br /&gt;that are a little less morbid and dark..but idk.&lt;br /&gt;but i'm busy at the moment so and don't have a lot of time to worry about it&lt;br /&gt;.....so it might be a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(which is code for when the musical is over) =P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2796137342720394334-9181003688189003332?l=artisticdisaster32.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artisticdisaster32.blogspot.com/feeds/9181003688189003332/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2796137342720394334&amp;postID=9181003688189003332' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2796137342720394334/posts/default/9181003688189003332'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2796137342720394334/posts/default/9181003688189003332'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artisticdisaster32.blogspot.com/2009/02/new.html' title='new =)'/><author><name>kfingram</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2796137342720394334.post-1228655425133382982</id><published>2007-08-31T21:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-01T14:03:29.069-08:00</updated><title type='text'>i guess it figures that my courage would choose to sell out now</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;I feel like i've been chained to the wall&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;a bowling ball has been thrust down my throat&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;and is dwelling in  the pit of my stomach&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;as this cloud of negativity rains on my being&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;The fear that rages a war against my mind is slowly &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;twisting and churning through my core like a never ending circle. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;My heart sinks, and my hands begin to tremble. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;I'm alone, and i don't understand why i make that choice. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt;I'm like a floor board, easy to walk on, and ignore&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcccc;"&gt; because I have no spine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2796137342720394334-1228655425133382982?l=artisticdisaster32.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artisticdisaster32.blogspot.com/feeds/1228655425133382982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2796137342720394334&amp;postID=1228655425133382982' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2796137342720394334/posts/default/1228655425133382982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2796137342720394334/posts/default/1228655425133382982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artisticdisaster32.blogspot.com/2007/08/i-guess-if-figures-that-my-courage.html' title='i guess it figures that my courage would choose to sell out now'/><author><name>kfingram</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2796137342720394334.post-2770309415323228798</id><published>2007-08-23T16:37:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-21T23:19:01.315-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Internal</title><content type='html'>It sqeezes firmly on my waist crushing what's left of meI gasp for my final few breathes, my head spinning, and stomach churning. Silent tears stream down my face, for all i can do is lie there. I haven't the strengh to fight because i have nothing to live for. I might as well peirce what's left of my heart myself. I'm alone. Yes, they hear what i say, but are they listening? I'm dying on the inside, and i can't explain. I'm hurt in so many ways, and no one sees it but me. They say it's a passing, but if it were...i wouldn't feel this way every moment of my life. It's as if i'm talking to the ghosts that haunt my my bedroom walls; They my crush the ice cold box around my complete being. It seems as though they breathe life into the shivering corners of my soul. There are crevices and wholes that need to be filled, and inside them have are frozen over memories of forgetten love, friends, happiness, and broken promises. I don't search in theses places, for i am afraid of what i might find. Please don't make me relive my memories. I can't face the person i've become. I beg of them to keep me away from the nightmares that cloud my thoughts. Begging and pleading never seems to be enough....because these nightmares are me. I can never release this monster. I can never escape. I hate him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2796137342720394334-2770309415323228798?l=artisticdisaster32.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artisticdisaster32.blogspot.com/feeds/2770309415323228798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2796137342720394334&amp;postID=2770309415323228798' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2796137342720394334/posts/default/2770309415323228798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2796137342720394334/posts/default/2770309415323228798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artisticdisaster32.blogspot.com/2007/08/internal.html' title='Internal'/><author><name>kfingram</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2796137342720394334.post-4358346910875704331</id><published>2007-08-07T08:55:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-07T09:00:56.930-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You live, and you learn</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#66ffff;"&gt;     It was all a &lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;blur &lt;/span&gt;through my &lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;clouded&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;eyes. I could only see what was straight ahead, and i didn't pay attention to anything else. I was afraid to lose something i didn't even own, and I wasn't prepared to use my mind instead of my heart. I chose to let my emotions reign over, leaving my rationale behind. It wasn't all my fault, but mostly it was. I should have been stronger than i was. I wasted two years of my life in denial and stupidity. I found it harder to live a normal life with my emotions running rapid, and my heart doing things i didn't ask it too. No, i wasn't ready for any of this. I had always been emotional, but not like this. Crying everyday and wasting time and energy over this situation. Yeah it hurt badly...because i went into it knowing the circumstances and the way things were going to be, but i plunged myself into it anyway. I didn't want anyone to know, but i'm sure they already did. I was always side tracked, distracted, and hurt. The funny thing came to find out later was that I wasn't the only one trapped in this &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;storm&lt;/span&gt;. At that point i wished i was dead, i had so much going on that i didn't want to live anymore. Both of my sisters had moved away and had their own sets of problems, my parents fought all the time, i had the lowest self-esteem ever, i had no real friends, and i was sick of it. It all sounds ridiculous when i think about it now, but at the time it was horrible. I guess that's the reason as we get older so that we realize how to deal with things in a more mature manner. It's been a year since all of this happened, and i see life in a much brighter view, you know with out all the think, dark clouds that blocked everything that was important. I'm learning to accept myself, and instead of complaining about the things i don't like, i'm going out and doing something about the those things. I've also prepared myself to block out people and situations that will put me in that same state i was in. I'm sorry if i hurt you, but you've done enough to me and i'm not going to put myself through that again. I can't help but say thanks though because if I hadn't gone through that i wouldn't be the person i am now. I'm finally at an okay place with myself, even though i have days when i feel horrible and want to stay in bed all day. It makes everything worth while because i know how to be a friend and be someone others can go to, and no, i'm not dwelling on my past. I'm just being honest to the world for once instead of just myself. I had a recent visit from the past, and i know you want me to accept you, and forgive you. Yeah, i forgive you, but I can't just be a piece on your &lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;game board&lt;/span&gt; anymore. It's time for me to live my life for me...not someone else.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2796137342720394334-4358346910875704331?l=artisticdisaster32.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artisticdisaster32.blogspot.com/feeds/4358346910875704331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2796137342720394334&amp;postID=4358346910875704331' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2796137342720394334/posts/default/4358346910875704331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2796137342720394334/posts/default/4358346910875704331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artisticdisaster32.blogspot.com/2007/08/you-live-and-you-learn.html' title='You live, and you learn'/><author><name>kfingram</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2796137342720394334.post-6479853054261326500</id><published>2007-07-18T08:58:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-03T20:01:45.869-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2796137342720394334-6479853054261326500?l=artisticdisaster32.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artisticdisaster32.blogspot.com/feeds/6479853054261326500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2796137342720394334&amp;postID=6479853054261326500' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2796137342720394334/posts/default/6479853054261326500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2796137342720394334/posts/default/6479853054261326500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artisticdisaster32.blogspot.com/2007/07/sick.html' title=''/><author><name>kfingram</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2796137342720394334.post-4063212301214431603</id><published>2007-07-13T20:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-16T20:18:41.122-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Black</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;I bleed it through my wrists&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;I paint it on my nails &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;I display it on my clothes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;I color it on my heart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;Black Three bands combined as one &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;The center nearly breaking&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;Reminds me of the way i used to feel &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;Black I do not dare take it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;off &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;In&lt;/span&gt; fear that i might have to face the world&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;I am to a certain degree safe &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;No one knows the meaning behind this &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;No one notices this &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;No one but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;me and&lt;/span&gt; if by some chance someone does&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;It simply &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;resembles tacky teenage fashion&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Although&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;I've&lt;/span&gt; tried to return and banish it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;I could not rid myself of it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;I cry my way into dreams&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;But now it is to late&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;The curse has already begun&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;This is my identity &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;I can only cry relentlessly &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;Black It chips away at my soul&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;It comforts my heart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;It constricts my life&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2796137342720394334-4063212301214431603?l=artisticdisaster32.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artisticdisaster32.blogspot.com/feeds/4063212301214431603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2796137342720394334&amp;postID=4063212301214431603' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2796137342720394334/posts/default/4063212301214431603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2796137342720394334/posts/default/4063212301214431603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artisticdisaster32.blogspot.com/2007/07/black.html' title='Black'/><author><name>kfingram</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2796137342720394334.post-5329329717416252480</id><published>2007-07-13T20:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-13T21:03:00.209-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Chains</title><content type='html'>&lt;a style="mso-comment-reference: dri_1; mso-comment-date: 20070325T2120"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Black stains the curtains &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;that are now compressed by the shadows&lt;br /&gt;Leaving an incredible scar It is held down by uncontrollable &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="mso-comment-reference: dri_2; mso-comment-date: 20070325T0200"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;forces&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;This makes it difficult to avoid choices something that appears as though it is &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="mso-comment-reference: dri_3; mso-comment-date: 20070325T0204"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;not only&lt;/span&gt; waiting to give up what was fought&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;While the dark and daring air calms the raw emotions&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My soul begins its &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;journey the&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="mso-comment-reference: dri_4; mso-comment-date: 20070325T2112"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;raging silence has never bruised me &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;before and&lt;/span&gt; now it fills me with vast &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;pain &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;This&lt;/span&gt; leads me to believe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That it is about to rain &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="mso-comment-reference: dri_5; mso-comment-date: 20070325T0159"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;splash, splash&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The way that my tears may keep me &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;sane &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;He&lt;/span&gt; pulled away and lost his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;fame&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Refused&lt;/span&gt; to take the blame&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Waited for the me&lt;br /&gt;Without the strength&lt;br /&gt;Who would give up everything&lt;br /&gt;In great length&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Understanding to compete with lies&lt;br /&gt;Pursuing fear in this madness&lt;br /&gt;I am attached to this monster&lt;br /&gt;That controls my every breath&lt;br /&gt;I am able to bleed drip, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;drip but&lt;/span&gt; there is no blood I am not compelled to move on&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="mso-comment-reference: dri_7; mso-comment-date: 20070325T2151"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I am nothing&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a language="JavaScript" class="msocomanchor" id="_anchor.." href="http://blog.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.create&amp;editor=true&amp;amp;Mytoken=7E98CA6D-755B-446E-ADCC016DDC4930CE3428856#_msocom_7" name="_msoanchor_7"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;[&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;It feels as though &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="mso-comment-reference: dri_8; mso-comment-date: 20070325T2253"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;my feet have been detached from my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;legs my&lt;/span&gt; hands have been removed from my arms and my face has been wiped off &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="mso-comment-reference: dri_9; mso-comment-date: 20070325T2259"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;It is almost as if I am dead&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;The string that holds me together has been split into two pieces &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;One which runs in circles &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;While the other that wanders throughout&lt;br /&gt;It is searching for the real reason&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Before the time of new season&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="mso-comment-reference: dri_10; mso-comment-date: 20070325T0206"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Swirling in the comfort of my twirling &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a style="mso-comment-reference: dri_11; mso-comment-date: 20070325T2311"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;prying only to accept the crying &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;The journey must soon come to an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;end only&lt;/span&gt; time is left to discover&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="mso-comment-reference: dri_13; mso-comment-date: 20070325T2119"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a style="mso-comment-reference: dri_12; mso-comment-date: 20070325T2128"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;White covers the walls that we want to remain hidden&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;While silently they waste away into the background&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2796137342720394334-5329329717416252480?l=artisticdisaster32.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://artisticdisaster32.blogspot.com/feeds/5329329717416252480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2796137342720394334&amp;postID=5329329717416252480' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2796137342720394334/posts/default/5329329717416252480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2796137342720394334/posts/default/5329329717416252480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://artisticdisaster32.blogspot.com/2007/07/chains.html' title='Chains'/><author><name>kfingram</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
