Bookmarks to Remember(:

1. http://www.career-intelligence.com/management/10-Classic-Clothing-Pieces.asp
2. http://www.webmd.com/parenting/baby/infant-development-9/brain-development?page=4
3. http://womenshistory.about.com/od/quotes/a/sylvia_plath.htm
4. http://www.psychologytoday.com/articles/199607/the-creative-personality
5. http://www.smosh.com/smosh-pit/photos/wisest-philosoraptor-quotes
6. http://www.squidoo.com/colormeaning
7. http://mylanguages.org/easy_languages.php
8. http://www.missselfridge.com/webapp/wcs/stores/servlet/TopCategoriesDisplay?storeId=12554&catalogId=33055
9. http://www.thechicfashionista.com/hourglass-body-shape.html
10. http://www.questionablecontent.net/
11. http://klassyp.tumblr.com/
12. http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_m2342/is_n3_v29/ai_18096758/pg_3/?tag=content;col1
13. http://www.abundancetapestry.com/10-inspiring-facebook-banner-quotes/
14. http://www.mangafox.com/manga/glamorous_lip/c004/13.html
15. http://my.hgtv.com/style-finder/transition.esi?style=RetroArtDeco&continueUrl=http://www.athomewith.com/community&catdisp=Retro__Art__Deco&returl=null
16. http://www.ryland.com/personalize-your-home/my-style-quiz.aspx
17. http://narcissistsdiary.blogspot.com/
18. http://books.google.com/books?id=6kvxI6aV1aYC&printsec=frontcover#v=onepage&q&f=true
19. http://www.mangathat.com/gantz/136/12-106
20. http://fuckyeahpixiecuts.tumblr.com/page/11
21. http://www.continuum-concept.org/reading/neurosis.html
22. http://www.enneagram.net/type3.html
23. http://freshome.com/2007/04/17/room-color-and-how-it-affects-your-mood/
24. http://www.forbes.com/2010/10/29/fashion-blogs-professional-women-forbes-woman-style-working-wardrobe_2.html
25. http://users.erols.com/geary/psychology/assessment.htm
26. http://www.youtube.com/watch?NR=1&v=PSEYXWmEse8
27. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WUMeps0Gk1A&feature=BFa&list=ULxDQ0JJiw-fE&lf=mfu_in_order
28. http://haleykristinesimons.blogspot.com/2011_04_01_archive.html
29. http://www.shopkawaii.com/San-X-All-Stars-10-Tarepanda-Plush-p/mk-43101.htm
30. http://forums.blackbutler.net/showthread.php?810-Kuroshitsuji-Musical-2-The-Most-Beautiful-Death-in-the-World-Lyrics-amp-Translations
31. http://forums.blackbutler.net/showthread.php?806-Kuroshitsuji-Musical-2-The-Most-Beautiful-Death-in-the-World-Soundtrack
32. http://www.trendhunter.com/trends/giuseppe-circhetta#!/photos/110189/4
33. http://www.cognitivequiz.com/quiz.html
34. http://personalitycafe.com/whats-my-enneagram-type/72621-7w8-3w4.html
35. http://personalitycafe.com/enneagram-personality-theory-forum/

Blogspot. You've been amazing. But I've cheated on you repeatedly. I have a tumblr now. If you want, you can visit me @http://sanjuanitaevahernandez.tumblr.com/
Iloveyou. Adieu&Until we meet again...
Yours always,
-juanita<3<3<3

Love Message from Beca:

I log onto my Facebook, and this is what greets me<3

"So, it just so happens that I REALLY love you. I've been in a mood for love messages lately, and you totally deserve one. I love you with all my heart and soul and you mean THE WORLD to me♥"

She's got me cryin' and whatnot :3 Ilovethisgalsofuckingmuch,..oops.
Pardon my French<3

If I Die Young:

1. I want to be cremated.
2. I want my ashes to be mixed in with the ashes of my things that no one else wants, and will burn easily. 
3. I want the mixed ashes to be thrown into the river. Any river.
4. Mum gets all my life insurance money (spend it on property/building a house, kay mum?)
5. Beca gets my anime, manga, and essays (but bury my Junjou Romantica with me, okay? C:)
6. Ralph gets my everything else. He'll divide it, seeing as how he knows me best.
7. Whatever I have that can be sold, sell it. 
8. I want strippers. Just kidding. No, serious.
9. I want you all to get on your fucking knees, and say my name:D
10. No one is going to cry. If you cry, I will personally kick your ass; so shut your face, 'cause you all look ugly when you cry. 
11. Pardon my French, I love you all so fucking much. <3
12. So there you have it, I San Juanita Eva Hernandez, being of sound mind and sound body, do declare my will and testament. (Actually, it's just a shit ton of demands. Anywhore, screw you. I'm already dead so stfu and live a good life. GATA!)

Le soleil se couche. Pourquoi ressent-on la nuit?

The sun goes down. Why does it feel like night?

Lately, I've been feeling a little choked up. I'll stop what I'm doing, and I'll think to myself, "What am I doing?"
It seems, as if, everything that I want, all of my hopes and dreams...they're suddenly so superficial.
And slowly, I've started to doubt everything. Everything. I don't understand anything. I have so much to give, I had plans. When did I cross the line, and become that which I detest?
...Le visage l'intérieur est juste sous la peau ...the face inside is right beneath the skin.

Watching this new anime, (Sekai-ichi Hatsukoi) just makes my heart melt. Episode 9, and I've been clutching my pillow, gnawing my lip, wiping tears from my eyes, and reducing my fingernails to paper-thin shreds. I wish I could love as they love. The only thing blocking me is me, I know that but, it's so hard to remove the basic thought: I am nothing. I do not deserve that storybook romance, I deserve only what I earn, and as of yet I haven't earned anything. I am not beautiful. I am not lovely. I am not the kind of girl that poems are written of. I do not know what I am.
Sigh, and yet again I've managed to turn a post into a depressing mess. Look at me, I'm worthless. Sometimes, I really do struggle. I don't know what I'm saying. I have it easy. I just need to cut the bullshit and find my medium. Maybe I'll take up painting? I don't know. Oh well, this is good-bye. I really want to read North of Beautiful by Justina Chen Headley again. Wondrous book. It seems like all I do is read. Why is that? Adieu, -Jolie Laide.

Quotes and Plans [Knives]...

Shattered glass images prey upon lovely gleaming young tile painted a blue of deceit, a blue of lapis lazuli, a blue of toxic familiarity, a blue of adoration and oily hair and glossy smiles…
In the yellow chloroform filled waste of an organ, brimming with the salty waters of indulgence. Do you see the profound darkness, acid-like splattering, congealing across the marbled carving in your tomb? Thou hast not gathered enough dust in thy lifetime to make up for the lack of praise and Immortality you sacrificed into the chair of man-to-man combat and abseil, broken into a chorus of ‘Oohs’ and ‘Aahs‘, followed by ‘You firsts’ and, ‘I insists’.
Where are you going and why, what will you do and when, what means will you use and how, manipulation: trepidation, manipulation: stipulation, manipulation: modest inflammation!
  Amidst gloomy Grey skies and interim truths; Ethics account for values, but what part does Vanity play in Evolution? Those that were fit to admire their reflection moved across the wings of time in a commonplace grandeur, oh, how easy it is to forget who you are, amidst lovely chocolate-covered-mint-tainted-biscuits-and-strawberry-wine-with-a-side-order-of-a-small-equipotent, luxury and life, how…desolate.
What did you say your name was? Surely, you have a title of some sort, a way to remember you perhaps? A signature cologne, a certain tattoo, symbolic and rich in bergamot meaning?
In the absence of fate only comment scents can be thought, and uncertainty brewed when recognition fades; when designing satire is your only form of entertainment, “Oh what a pitiful life thou hast made!”, and accounted for.
  Hide your hair, behind a bonnet of white that is not yet white, and not-nearly-white, but merely-white, or clearly-white or nonsensical-white as the soon-to-be-bride …it's green-white and Grey-white and blue-white and yellow-white and orange-white and ecru.
  It's perfect and imperfect and repetitive and stressed and unbleached but oh so clean and imaginarily arbitrarily Gone with the wind, gone under the water, gone away in fire, gone into the Earth, gone, simple G-O-N-E, gone. Simple yet not-so-simple. How we humans judge time, harshly and frail, bitter and weak, broken and intended… our greatest asset is also our least relevant; have you any idea what it is? The debate has gone on for so long, I sometimes wish to flip a coin, pick a side, and be done with it.
To be praised for my choice, or exiled for my actions, exhilaration presages evolution.
  Democracy demands delegation, while distinct disadvantages disarm direct derogatory diffusion, dithering about on an errand for the up-and-coming débutante, who has just announced her engagement to the Prince of Contribution, who so gladly drove the decision to domesticate herds of deer and wolves and snakes; thinking that snails and horses would come along their natural way and oh! Look at that escargot.
Language and Literature contribute to the joining of words, jointing letters, programming the basic needs of our culture, and responsive taboos each etched into our minds so willingly and decimating that only catastrophe awaits those who while their time away…
While I find that experimenting with love and emotion and human fascination in the divine and mysterious, is both enchanted and repulsive,…the need for all things to be led and controlled; our survival hinting at more than dependence, yet our ultimate destruction lies between the hunches that whatever we do will not make it to tomorrow, and our little thought-bubbles which we cartoonishly just pictured, here upon this silken paper; will influence tomorrow, governing our every crucible, salivating appropriately on command and as expected when the chimechimechime of a hand-held bell is heard…
By what can the temper of the ocean be quelled? Blood sheds blood which sheds blood upon blood upon blood, and soon, no one is left in the general population with any faint recollection of noone and everyone has been drained of emotion and Latin texts until finally the last human Emotion is unstoppered as Alas! Oh no! Oh dear! The fatal path of formality left standing alone and beguiled, clumsily attracting vultures and flies, pheasants and swine with bloodless cries that disturbingly are not really filled with any blood at all!
Exempli gratia, the music of a mob, characteristic and immobilizing, the whirlwhirlwhirl of a ceiling fan, spinning about the way it's always done because that's just the way that things are done! How evil. Nothing is as evil as a reactionary, an acute of the sort of mind in which mindful Mab sends her maid Maurine out to the forest in search of spear minted fairy floss, spun by the most fawned of floss-sinners, and forever ostracized as the underdeveloped status quo, beginning with amber and ending with Gris, painted on with a roaring cough of henning and touted about in a roundabout way,…
  At the head of the humor-mill lies the lye of the rumor-mill, who's head-woman just toasted the captain Tulle, I can almost taste the propaganda this will generate, even more gustatory pleasing, the spicy courteous heresy of ‘a toast to you all of our finest and cheapest champagne!
My, how spontaneously, absolutely, unorthodox of you,…[to the side] be careful Amber, Todd has the plague.
By evening anybody who’s anybody knows, but of course this was all generated when little Ms. Somebody couldn’t keep her trap shut until after your flight to Paris.
  My how silly of me, climbing this mountain, just because it's there doesn't mean I should climb it, oh I am crazy, what was I thinking?! But that ladies and gentlemen, that is the absolute beauty of it! Why, my dear heavens, you weren't thinking at all! And, I beg your pardon, Sir, but wasn't it wonderful?
Oh, woe me, norms meat, woebegone [Soliloquy] the tides of temptation and oh how that apple tempts me! [Monologue] Yet I know one bite, one fatalistic bite and the world as we know it will cease to me and to all that will come from me, Oh! [Aside] From, all the chaos and Irony here to tonight, I wish to welcome you by singing a well known duet with thee, …continue Maestro?
  Breaking, bumbling, stopping, stumbling; wheedling your hours away, tattooing ire upon your skin, letting the ink fill you and stain your blood with teeny droplets of remorse. Catapulted headfirst, upon a Journey of Life, a game of feelings and desperate whining, shooed away at the most unlucky of moments,…your shenanigans are costly, you realize that don’t you? For all of your happiness and self-worth, accumulated garbage in a secondhand shop somewhere in France, lolling about with your tongue sticking out and an extreme hope for a picnic-worthy spot, and an advantageous glimpse of the Tour de Force.
  Monarchy and loyalty bridge a fine gap, that which is meaningless and that which is meaningful, that which is probable and completely impossible; you were broken, now you are fixed, you are lost, but now you have a compass. So which way will you go? Will you skip merrily down the street in the latest of amazing shoes, or will you trudge wearily through the mud, a trucker's atlas in your first hand and a glass of fermented rue in the next?
  Put your hand in your pockets, this doesn't concern you. Put your two cents in while they're worth something, then take a dip in the indoor heated swimming pool; allow no one to recognize you, not even for an instant,…for the most dangerous enemies are the ones who are honest with you.
  Look someone famous, where will you go…come to me, Mona and let us Rome the streets of Italy. Clever girl, foolish girl, lovely girl, wondrous girl, beautiful girl, insane girl,…inane girl, but one-substantial-woman. Random generated numbers, find the patterns? Look-at-de-dew. 3.141592653584 la~la~la~la~la. Material comforts sabotage the prime numbers within you, how far have you gone, on pity and charity alone?

When the real questions to ask, is “May I ask you something?”

Make It Stop

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XP4clbHc4Xg

It Gets Better! It Gets So Much Better!!!

Teeth!

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L6kHcJV-zXg&NR=1

You Are NEVER Alone!

So you want to kill yourself? Because no one cares about you. Your family hates you. Right? No. Your parents walking in your room in the morning to only find a dead body. They’ll try their hardest to not think negative, and to just think that you’re fooling around. Then they’ll start shaking you. Why aren’t you breathing? They’ll be broken. Tears. Many tears. More tears than you ever shed. Was it them? Were they the reason you did this? More tears. Pain. Every day. Every night. Every single second of every day. Guilt. More guilt. What about your bestfriends? They’re not going to care. Right? No. What’s the first thing that will go through their mind when your principal comes in and tells the class that you’re not alive. While your bestfriend sits there in tears. That girl that you’d smile at but never talk to? She’s now crying. The boy who used to kick you under the table just to annoy you? He’ll be shocked. He’ll be devastated. He’ll blame himself. What about your teacher? Thoughts crossing her mind. She’ll question if you did it because she didn’t make school comfortable enough for you. Pain. Devastation. All in one. Who organises your funeral? Who has to go through your stuff? Clothes? Notes? Those few older girls who used to give you daggers at school? They’ll feel regret. They’ll blame themselves. See, if you killed yourself today, you’ll never know what might of happened tomorrow. You’ll never know because you’re dead. Plain dead. Not breathing. Not alive. Just dead. Your family hates themselves for it. Your bestfriend then falls into depression. Tears. Tears. More tears than a river. All because you killed yourself because you thought noone would care. Right? You are loved. By many. Someone right now is thinking of you. And right now, I’m thinking about anyone who has thought or is considering suicide. You are beautiful. No matter if you’re black, white, homo-sexual, tall, short, overweight or anorexic. You are beautiful. You want to kill yourself? Think about it first. There’s no coming back. And I promise, if you do it, you are not only hurting yourself, you are hurting many. You are creating more tears than you led yourself to. You are making everyone miserable and making them all feel guilt and pain. Never will they feel whole like they used to when they had you. You are beautiful. And you are never ever alone.

Favorite Fruit :P

Black grapes

You are a polite person in general, but do have quick flare-ups of temper that cool down just as quickly. You enjoy beauty in all forms, including beautiful people. You are very popular because of your warm, gregarious nature. You have a zest for life; you enjoy every thing you do, right from the way you dress, to your style and élan in your day-to-day life. Your partner must share your zeal and zing for life… to enjoy all you have to offer!

ColorQuizResults :3

 Your Existing Situation

"Is lazy when it comes to further herself or her career and lacks the ambition to change things. Does not like to put to much effort into things, except sexual activity. she would rather feel comfort and security, than success."
Your Stress Sources

"Wishes for freedom and independence, free from limitations and restrictions except for the ones she choices to give himself."
Your Restrained Characteristics


Has strong emotional demands and is picky when it comes to choosing a partner. she chooses to remain emotionally distant and uninvolved in relationships.

"Is emotionally demanding, especially during intimate moments, which leaves her feeling frustrated because she is unable to find a perfect union."

"Feels trapped in a helpless situation and is desperately seeking relief. she is able to find pleasure and happiness in sexual activity, as long as there is not a lot of conflict or emotional difficulty."

Your Desired Objective

"Always trying to make a good impression on others, and is constantly watching to see if she is succeeding in this. Is interested in how others react to him; this makes her feel in control. Strategically plans out ways to gain further influence over others and special recognition. Is easily distracted by the pleasingly beautiful and original."
Your Actual Problem

Longs the freedom to make her own decisions and plans without the criticism and restrictions of others. Uses her charm to deal with others and get what she wants.

Humans.

You see, I think we were. We were made to balance, but were given  
free-will. Choices made over hundreds of millions of years spawned a  
new breed of human, that which would become homo sapiens sapiens, and  
evetually impose it's will upon everything else suffering from a  
delusion of superiority because of a merely lucky chanceat evolution,  
or maybe a direct interference upon fate? Anyhow, the human species I  
speak of now are complex, devastating creatures with enormous power at  
their command, many of whom use this advantage for entirely selfish,  
self-serving purposes, and not for the common good as defined by  
intellect and a case of disparaging, raging hormones which serve to  
both advance and hinder an amazingly blend of paranoid self-delusion,  
and misplaced loyalty upon several inferiority complexes unique to the  
human race. That being said, I will never be able to fully explain,  
but be this I am a hypocrite in many ways but in this, no. Long ago I  
accepted my limitations and weaknesses and learned that the only  
potential cure was to ease along a pre-destined path plotted exactly  
for me, my voices and thoughts which heavily influence my own self-
delusion of emotional independence, so, I know that humans are not  
entirely good, but also not entirely evil. Every human is, however,  
very powerful and brutal somewhere beneath an unconsciously managed  
facade of social properness and definitism, they understand and yield  
to the power that the unknown exerts over them and their vassals,  
along with any and all sensations that accompany worth and/or luck.

Interrogations, Concerning A Bloody Beautiful Butterfly...

 

“I’m glad.” she said. Even in her weakened state, it wasn’t fair how benign she could look, just as a butterfly flies its ending loop, mind in awhirl, I solemnly stood watch over her body, a lone sentry, absolutely devoted to my princess, stained scarlet, with her own blood. She was even more heartbreakingly beautiful, even as she drew her last breaths; I knew, that had it been any other than I, her faithful servant, watching her, had it been anyone else, anyone the least bit sick and ungrateful, the would have ravaged my poor flowers’ body, defenselessness adding its own charm to her pale, bloodless skin.

“Hime”. What do you want me to do now?” I asked, voice, was weak and fragile, my own unnecessary tears, freefalling, from a face that had shown no emotion in years, determination, and loyalty excepted, was bloody and painful. It was fine. I told myself it was fine, whenever she left on her own, whenever she said that she would patrol the western gates, as a show of independence, I had said it would be fine. She’d never screamed. She’d sent me her position, through the link, and had let me find her. Lascar was still hovering over her. Stanley was attending her wounds. She shot me a look. One look. And I knew. She was dead. Or as good as dead. She beckoned to me.

“Rage. Rage is what you are,” she murmured softly, eyes never leaving mine. “Rage is what you’ve been; rage is what you will always be. Rage.” I agreed with her. A small keening noise in the back of my throat, shocked me. I was not angry, I was not rueful. I was mourning. I was mourning a princess, an idol, whom had yet to die.Sick.. Sickened is what I was, with every polluted breath I took, rich in health, hers were fading, gradually stopping, her fragile body, no longer possessing the amount necessary to sustain her body, and keep her imbued with these chemical balances, her body, was starting to shut down. I was mourning. And she was dying.

Hello, Inspector. That brief flashback I’ve described to you, paraphrases the time I realized, that our beloved princess, was a butterfly. A butterfly, that had dreamed of being a princess, and just as she escalated into climax…she, was thwarted.

By whom you ask? By fate, of course. She’d wavered, she hadn’t fought. She simply, looked at me once more, breathed a meaningful, “Adieu.”, and then, she died. Her eyes, wide like the willow tree, filled with stars, only she could see. And I left her there. And as I turned back, I realized, I’d killed her. And that’s why we’re here today, Inspector. But to revert back, to her transformation, she positively, glowed, from the inside, and cast herself off, into a dream. A dream where a princess, was a butterfly, and that is how she, a victim, softly forced the gates of hell open, took her potion, and with a graceful, vengeance, admitted to herself she was lying. But that did not stop her.

She became a butterfly. As her tears dried, in her eyes, still too unsure of herself to even cry, I cradled her beautiful, scarlet head, such a beautiful, porcelain doll. On her cheek, a mark, a single cut. Hope. It was the mark, of a butterfly, in the throes of freedom, the mark that a butterfly makes on her chrysalis…

Fitting is it not? It wasn’t that, really, that left me with so much of an impression. Her transformation. It was not what really took my breath away. What really burned in my blood, and marked itself in me so deeply, my ashes will submit willingly to hells’ fires, still carrying that brand, was that as she, a princess, lay dying, and I, her murderer, watched over her, bleeding, beautifully, into hell, it was that, even as she took her last breaths, she was pleasured. She was fulfilled, and pleasured with joy, agony, despair, all, nothing, anything, everything. Save for hope. She knew all was lost, but she took my hand and whispered to me, “All is won.” And I, defenseless, against the onslaught of beautiful, mournful evocations her voice inspired within me, felt my heart dream of insecurity, in lucid unwelcome backgrounds; I hovered gently between insanity and total well-being. It was a wonderful feeling. The insight, that I was not who I was, and that she was who she truly was meant to be, I shuddered.

My self, was filled once again with hateful, jealous, boundless misery, exhilarated by her weakness, her surrender, everything taboo and illustrious, I was once again, glorious, and humiliated. That such, power, held in her words and her rank, could submit to nothing more than the eloquence, the greed, and the strength, I possessed as nothing more than chance, and, yes, fate had decreed this! The raw onslaught that vibrated into rage was I, and I, I was captivated, By this beautiful, sinless, monster, pulsing through me , this heat, this lust, inspired by her, it filled me to the core, and once again, I ravaged her. I plundered into her, hot and unworthy, and she, in cries of deceit, and gutlessness, forgave me.

What a wonderful thing it is, isn’t it, Inspector? Words fail me, at this moment, to describe, how holy I was, at that exact moment, at that exact occurrence.

But I digress;…It’s not really up to me now, is it? I, who in that fatal moment showed a glimmer of weakness, was dragged, by my pride, into a courtyard, and whipped by an angel. Or so, my friends would later tell me, in a drug-induced stupor, opium, if I’m to be exact, they ridiculed me for my obsession, but the light had raped me, and the darkness that had forever permeated every ounce of my being, and I, in a fit, of rage, impregnated with narcissism, and depression, I later would presume it had been a fit of self-righteousness. Nothing malignant, or despondent about it, merely, nonsensical, and hypothetical, down to the last demons’ eye.

And, if these recollection’s really are, the product, and seemingly, a side-effect of, hallucinogens, and standards, then who are you in society, too drunk on a dream, and unhealthful social orders, who are you to tell me, that I am the criminal? I murdered her that day, yes, I murdered my self as well, and according to myself, you can arrest me. You can finally detain me, and behead me, if need be, you see fit, or a decree commands it, but do not agree to sit here, and judge me, based on an emotionless report, and a stratagem that demands it. Although I confess, I myself have never once, forgotten the way I looked when I first slaughtered an innocent lamb.

Oh do not feign ignorance, it was in your eyes as well. Did you pull out a looking-glass, and analyze it? Did you see in your iris, some evil; some malignant thought that had crossed your mind seeing the beautiful blood gush from her neck? Did you, so much like I, obtain so much pleasure from that little event, that it sparked your instincts, primal, and delicious, and you, hunched down with your limits, and your consciences, did you, Inspector, get down on your knees, and praise evil? Did you, lean forward, thinking of that animalistic grace that we lack and possess, so in tune, with ourselves, that we forget it’s there, until that freezing, vengeful moment when blood is spilt, and you, hungry as ever, reach out with your tongue, and taste it? That purity, absorbed into your organ, much like some cruel, endangered sponge, suck out the life of happiness? Did you, with that beatific, scarlet, essence, on your tongue, did you lick your lips? And sub-consciously leap for joy, because you, as an animal, not as a refined gentleman, not as an earl, or a kind, or a chauvinist pig of any sort, did you rejoice, as the hot, deadly, poisonous taste hit you? Did you forget, for what seemed like eons, just how delicious innocence is? I for one, Inspector, I for one, know that you did.

You ask me how I know this. You ask me just exactly, how I, a murderer, a doctor, a lover of arts and sciences, so like yourself Inspector, how I can presume to tell you what you did, how you did it, and how you were capable of doing it, not in an alternate universe, but rather as a man, in this one. How you in all ways, and oh so beautifully put, and bluntly asked, and skillfully rendered and chaotically portrayed, in your imagination, in your mind’s eye, how you can see, this is the truth, and this is the lie, and you most definitely are not insane, but I definitely am, and how shivering, you sense a maddening connection with me, disgust etched in the unforgiving lines of your harsh, beautiful face, shock painted in your eyelids, the deep blue of your tranquility stained with my light, violet imagery…provocative, isn’t it? Those are the effects of the drug known to mankind, as logic.

Aren’t you tired Inspector? This tirade, this rant, is tiresome isn’t it? Quite effectively boring as well, the actor has no skill at all, it’s absolutely pointless to be here, because as we all know, the whole world in fact, knows, that we two have much bigger, and better things to be doing than having this wonderful, little chat, in your parlor, no less. If I myself were to write a treaty, to your happiness, and to my submissiveness, we would find a beauteous bridge mapped out ahead of us. You see, Inspector, what you don’t know, is that my words are the beams. Your confusion is the nails. My assertiveness is the map. Your insecurity is the termites. My willpower is the maggots. Your title, Inspector, is the foundation. Mine, Murderer, is the inlay. Everything else, my inspector, is a sieve. Pretend all you like, but there is and isn’t an exact meaning to our meeting.

I was bound to tell you. And you were bound to disappoint me, your reactions far too predictable and ostentatious. You take me very seriously Inspector, but I would advise you not to. Aside, from polite greetings, and obscure conversations, coupled with certain vagueness, you, my Inspector, are a man of thinking. A man of a meticulous, perfect, demeanor. And I, Inspector, am a man of inspiration. A man, of blood. These twists, and turns, better suit my ideology, my philosophy, because, believe it or not, Inspector, I too, have values. And things I wish to protect.

So, like a beautiful caged bird, must en it’s song with death, we draw to a conclusion, I myself having occupied every angle from which I could attack my self, and finally disguising myself under the guise of my self, do find, in time, you are a moralist, a terrorist. I am a specialist, an egoist;…a romanticist.

I admit, I really do, often, forget where I am, and who I am, and how I am, and why I am, but let me tell you, Inspector, if you really must brand me a sinner, then let me harmlessly brand you a beetle.

I know this isn’t the time to debate fate, we’ve tempted subservience enough for one evening, enough as it is, adequate as it appears to be, I need to be getting on back to my cell.

But, as misleading as the truth can be, a lie, always leads back to the truth and same-senescent as it must be, truth establishes nothing but lies. Rest well, Inspector, and although it didn't feel like at this exact time, was suitable to mention closure, escapism as well, their wouldn't happen to be a situation, much like this, this exact occurrence, happening anywhere else tonight, now would there?

Well, I’ll tell you, just between us. There is.

Oh, what a grand shocking thing it is to be right, isn’t it Inspector?

I know, because I, Inspector, I, am not really here.

Goodnight, Inspector. This is the very last time we shall meet. Why, you ask? Because, my dear Inspector, you are dead.

To Rome?

I don't know this feeling inside me. It's not jealousy. I'm not the jealous type. It's...disgust. I'm disgusted at him. But its fine. I'm a good girl. And I feel so sick. So sick, infected with my tears. Infected infected, how can I even hope to accomplish anything, when all i ever do is sit here and type? How am i one person, striving towards an undefinable goal, rocketing chaotically through life? I'm going to die. It's simple really. I don't know when, or how, but I'm not afraid. I can't be afraid. I'm terrified. Not of dying..maybe..I don't know. I don't know anything really. I like it here. It's nice. It's cold and bright and sterile. It feels like a hospital. It smells like sleep. I'm tired, I'm angry and I'm lonely. Not for the company of others, I miss my Self. Where is she/he? Where did you go? I need you so much, now more than ever, how can this be a hell hole, disgraceful, impertinent little whore. I hate you. I love you. I want to die. Kill me. Please? No. No. I want to live, i love life. It's amazing. Simply amazing. Complicated, its not. It's fear, and love, and hate, and security, and It's hopeless. I can't feel this. I can't feel the words I'm typing, I can't see myself. I want out. I want out of this shell, I want to roam. To roam freely, to roam. To rome.

Thank You, Madamemoiselle Josephine Darcy

  http://www.fanfiction.net/s/3484954/1/The_Marriage_Stone

 I'm possessive. Don't touch what's mine. It's simple. I will blow my top, haha, one of my greatest fears, is to have everything I love, and have worked hard for..to be taken away. I have a fear of loss, and that fear scares the hell out of me.

Of Appreciation

Juanita, iloveyousomuch. Without you, I am nothing. Thank you. For always being there. For always staying strong and staying peaceful.
Love,
San Juanita E. Hernandez

The past is in front of you, the future in behind you. You can see the
past. You can't see the future unless you turn around and look back.

June 20th...

 This is exactly why I don't try to dream outside of ehere Im alloted
to use this so basically when I wrote I dream I hope I admit I'm a bit
sarcastic apathetic and revoktuinary at times bit at others I'm
amazingly quick and cknfusing almost past the point of passion and
rapture. It's almost difficlit to put down this imaginary paper and
lead because as we all know I'm writing on an iPhone note pad and
there's nothing more to say, nothing more to mourn. And with the
heaviness of my lids pressing down upon me I feel the beck and call
uponst the return of rest. And I yield.

June 22nd, 2011 Texting Aaron :/

 Blah. I was just going to say "Oh it's nothing teehee, i'm just insomniatic(: I'll go pop some pills, and have a nice sleep! :D" but unfortunately my mood is so bitchy, and angry, and confused that it's taking too much freaking energy to be happy. I'm cracking. I lose grip on myself every second, my mind is stumbling to find something, something to hold onto. I don't know what's truth or lie anymore they're the same, I've hidden my self so deeply I don't know who I was anymore. I'm slipping up, mistakes galore, I start something with a passion, with my usual positivity, and I sort of fizzle out. I usually don't finish or if I do, I drag my heels. I'm myself and not myself and it pisses me off, and I spend nearly all my time in lalaland, imagining something, that's irrevocably focused on reality and my subconscious, and what I hate the most is that I only admit these things to you, I can't admit to myself because I get this urge to rip to tear to kill to anything really, better than this falling falling falling.
I'm tired, I'm torn, naked exposed, and the nightmare begins only I can't remember and I'm sweating I'm fainting and I'm caught only I can't see and it's frustrating I lie lie lie lie but tell the truth so so often, there's no SOS there's no help me please that's anything less than a beggars plea or a sonnets on last final scream. And I'm contradictive hypothetical living my life in my imagination and up is down has always been left to it's own devices and moral codes and right turns turn to u-turns and it's all just. Terribly sad and I'm crying and crying and it hurts. It hurts Aaron. Make it go away. Make the pain go away. I like it, but it's killing me, but noone can help me. Noone noone maybe my self but she's hidden. Craftily secretly oh I'm a terrible person but I'm oh so wonderful and amazing yet so mean and heartless emotional and loving and it's heart-wrenching. I'm not. I'm not anything I can describe. I'm scary. I'm afraid of myself, of the possibilities and it's terrifying. Just how much I affect me.
It's not an entirely cohesive decision. It's an open wound, and there's so many things delicious things I assure you, that thwart and magnify this, thus pressure. It's not a social pressure or a calamity pleasure, but in fact it's a neurosis one of those challenging things that the Universe hasn't quite thought through and it's amazing. That I can think these things so quickly how amazigly quickly I can fathom these things imagine them at just the drop of a hat, yet I can't speak them at will. I have to be incensed, something must anger me in order to infuriate me and to cause these words to well up inside my chest like a rising geyser and they'll form sentences, a paragraph, a cohesive language crippled and riddled by much stranger, factors. I just want to rip shred anything everything just dull my mind. I want haze I want nothingness yet I'm terrified of that exact end of this weapon I posess my mind, which weakens and kills me, even as it boosts my self-confidence and Reading skills. My god. Am I a product of m generation even as I shape it? Or am I just another self deluded teenager, too weak to handle the
subliminal might of the host virus? Am I a memory? Am I some sort of vague reference to the nothingness itself, do I represent something valid and illogical and tangiblebut also in it's own right absolutely chemically tested disastrous? Is this really life, or is it a dream a very strange dream. Am I an animal named San Juanita with all these complicated assortments and puzzles and natures that is dreaming of being something quite human, or am I something not quite human dreaming of being an animal? Whichever so, and as confusing and redundant as it might seem, how stereotypical and exasperated my mind can journey, with overrated sarcasm and indulgences, then my god what a mind! Able to lie and percieve and administer just exactly what I truly need in such lethal doses, to be able to think and write such things , is a blasphemy in itself, non? And I'm tired tired mentally emotionally but physically I'm illogical and vented and oh god I'm dead aren't I, aren't I? Funny this isn't how I percieved it and no no no...I'm still nothing. Yes yes yes that's it isn't it? Nothing nothing, absolutely gloriously nothing....
Aaron. Why do I have these thoughts? They shift their patterns sometimes they change regularly. Bur the words. The words just compound and influence me and I'm reduced again and again and again. Why?

Have some composure...Get away from this sinking feeling, I'm sure that all this time you were fooling me as well.

.....To Be Faithless in This Hour?

I have my God. I don't care for your God. The God i pray to, is a great God. A beautifully ugly one, a sincerely lying one, a perfect mistake, a lovely darkness...My God is me, the Universe, the Earth, my friends, Mom, Ralphie, People, Emotions, Psychology, Science, Religion, Astrology, Music,...My God is All, my God is nothing. My God is everything and at the same time, the most well-known and mysterious element of anything and everything...My God is air,water, fire, earth, plasma....My God is nothing.

Come with Me?

Come with Me? by San Juanita Eva Hernandez featuring canvas sneakers

Formal cocktail dress
$70 - pacificplex.com

All Saints vintage looking dress
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One shoulder evening dress
$35 - 2cute2trendy.com

Yellow t shirt
$16 - zumiez.com

Sweatshirts hoody
$395 - sevennewyork.com

Fat Face lightweight hoodie
£45 - fatface.com

Marc Jacobs ruffle tank
£396 - theoutnet.com

American Vintage short sleeve blouse
€94 - youheshe.com

Celestina cotton skirt
$150 - allsaints.com

Wet Seal mini skirt
$5 - intl.wetseal.com

J Brand cropped skinny jeans
$175 - net-a-porter.com

Leather skinny jeans
€349 - jades24.com

AG Adriano Goldschmied distressed denim jeans
$119 - calypsostbarth.com

Current/Elliott cropped jeans
$200 - net-a-porter.com

MOTHER skinny fit jeans
$200 - net-a-porter.com

machine light blue destroyed skinny jeans
$18 - hottopic.com

Flavia Stoian black heels
€150 - welikefashion.com

Brian Atwood platform pumps
$649 - mytheresa.com

Alexander McQueen black heels
snazzyheels.com

Yves Saint Laurent peep toe pumps
$720 - ssense.com

Converse canvas sneaker
£30 - urbanexcess.com

Oxford shoes
$25 - urbanog.com

DV by Dolce Vita leather heels
$89 - piperlime.gap.com

ASOS lace up booties
$112 - asos.com

Christian louboutin sandals
$819 - mytheresa.com

Christian Louboutin black leather booties
$796 - bluefly.com

Just dance, daradoodoobumpbump JUST DANCE!!! :DD

Mother Monster. Lady GaGa. Wow. :D Love it!!! :DDD

Consensus

`Religion 

Religious uses  

The Roman Empire

Instead use

Using [Africa as...

Imperialism

I will dominate you, i will control you.
You will submit to me, you will fall. 

To get

Unsurity insures my animosity.

I don't remember,,,

Cold and terrifying is what you are, Alone exemplifying is what you seem, Taciturn crying, is what you hear, doubtful fighting, is what you do, ...

You & You & You...Mona Lisa.

Mona Lisa...give me a smile, and I'll frown upon you, leave me alone, just run home, where the gin is waiting for your shaking fingers, the cool bottle consoles your aching hungers, thirsty for more than revenge and unknown to us all, you'd transform into the one thing you'd hate to love....most importantly you'll confuse and astound with your womanly wiles, and escape and enthrall with passions futile pains, and arouse the chorus with a simple pose, of posture.

I'll fall to your feet, and wash them with my faked tears, you'll frown and entreat me, to a painful kick here, my heart in your hand, how fast did time pass? I am not a man, who believes in lies, more so I lie to you… I could've sworn, amidst all the wars, your long flowy hair, shaded black in despair, fulfilled the prophecy, of a woman too young to see, the ways of the world, from the viewpoint of a five year old.

Lisa, give me a hand, I'll keep you safe, if i were lying, we'd be amazed, the sinners church, is more extravagant than a prince's birth, and lying here, underneath the stars, i take your neck in my mouth, and compare our scars, with water filled lullabies, tearing us apart, no use for grammar or even simple need, all along, enthroned in alabaster, you were the queen.

Taken to poetry, the musical has been cancelled, the orchestra fired, the chandelier dismantled, an aura of kindle, a fire, a maze, in short simple terms, a contradictory gaze, astounded by diamonds, ambushed by coal, i stare, unabashedly, at your red ripped royal soul, kept in a jar, a jar filled with emotions, unused by all, all left unspoken.

Mona, i take your hand, is this your last request? Doomed to a life, filled with surgery and regret, chained to a wall, with a last hope to perfect, a blank diary, greets my visage, bandaged and broken, unknown to us all, i use this last resort, as a measure of trust, we walk the line, between roses and musk, there is no reason, i fall down this life, knowing very well what compromise would ensue, i crawl, blind towards the light...

Mona Lisa, take this last impressive bow, the tragedy of romantic comedy, gone forever, the vile summary is missing vitality, the facts have all been sugar-coated, advertising companies swoop in with powder, and sable coats.

So unsure of yourself, your hair flows into the lakebed, strutted down your last runaway line, gutted with gusto and disgust evident in your noble eyes, take back the fast pace, give her back her lovely old face, i couldn't protect you, my iconic grief coincides with the sayings of a wise one, the sun is burning me, alone in a dead sky, broken like your latest jewelry design, my mind reeling, i stumble, the storms winds' have pushed me into a better thinking position. There is no comfort believing in you, my little one, my toy you've grown up, you can't keep living in this coal mine, keep running till you fit the princess's stereotype, and then dig in the dirt, for your last ruby ring, do not go gently into that spark of last light, let the foolish side take over your reasonable mind, let practicality take over your dormant frugality, buy the sun, buy everything until you're broke from the inside out.

Lisa, you're pretty little head astounds me, even to this day...your sweetness makes my temperament look appalling, I resent you. Never grow up is what she told you, oh she lied, isn’t life so much sweeter when you know you’re about to die?

The telephone rings, and Leonardo ignores it so he can paint your brow, how lovely, it’s real. Unlike the others of your time, you have lines, lines, lines, everywhere, my line has disappeared, in this fast paced job, how can you overlook a weekend off? Too much, too much, I overdose on your private thoughts, the taste of your skin strikes a dull chord in me, awakening the memory of writing, sickened I lean forward, anticipating that metallic glint off of my tongue, whenever your blood meets mine,…oh, I wish we could do this all day, but night is approaching, and my social calendar is full, this voice I hear, this voice within, clouds my judgment, and I decide to spend the night.

Little known to me, your energy, envenomates me, and I look inside myself and trust your strength, emotionless you frown at my hesitation. Right and wrong has never been so difficult for you…you just frowned that beautiful smile, and people threw themselves at your feet, and you kicked them faraway…too afraid of connecting with them, holding onto the shreds of sanity that lead to the door of your self, no one else could compare to the madness, the deadliness made it so addicting, and here we are again, falling down this path of unmistaken misery, a journey that stabs us with confidence, and we’re learning now, how to trust yourself, and even if I have to kill you, you’ll understand, nothing else is a map, save your blood, begin to hate me, I resist your temptations, your charms…my self I’m a fool, a fool, dastardly thinking, it fooled me, me, me, oh I’m immune to your body, your voice, but those eyes alas those eyes.

Your frown makes it so much tastier, to devour you, oh enslaved I’m addicted, accomplished, sophisticated past the point of harder, better, faster, stronger, twice as amazingly powerless to your beating, deceiving, heart…your décolletage, so soft, it calls to me.

I must whisper all of my greatest everythings, all my naughty little somethings, all my tempted bastard lovings, possessed, enthralled, beaten to submission, poisonous, nothings, group together, form an army, and hate you, you, you, you, with all of our hearts…

Oh, Mona Lisa, every part of you & you & you, loosens my values till I’m insane enough to anticipate killing you,…

Oh my lovely, dangerous, complicated, oh so amazingly sophisticated hatred, my Mona Lisa,…

Why couldn’t you just stay home, like I asked you to?

No Surprise, , ,

 I'm quite a mass of contradictions actually(: i love sounding smart, confusing people(:, hugging people, getting complimented, smiling, laughing, car-aoke, my talkativeness, being happy, explanations, being random, awkward silences, truth or dare?, bi-polar-ness, reading novels, reading yaoi, watching yaoi, crying, lesbianism, new shoes, gay-nism, fetishism, Ism's, realizations, jumping, falling(:, being spoiled, steaming from my ears(:, being held, arguing, spoiling someone, i am very open..., being impulsive, texting, making random food and cleaning(: but only at other people's houses haha(:, water, weeping, soft things, hot things, warm things, disease please?, spicy food, sweet food, bitter food, hot water, get out of my head..., alternating hot and cold weather xD, writing alot, soup, cues, my independence, classified information, power, gay people, Foreign stuff(:, exaggerating, watching people(:, fanfictions, yaoi, being bossy, then saying please xD, cashiers and baggers, racism, smiling, parking lots, typing, surprise, being indescribable..., wearing myself out, prejudice, being difficult, answering questions, tolerance, music, stuff off the top of my head, taste this wine, healing, random hugs, enthusiasm!!! licking, being histrionic, abstract thinking. writing a ton, corsetry, spanish soap operas, stay for awhile?, lines, on my knees...,the hate and the love i hold for myself, obsessing over something, the dark, change, drinking my tea in the shower, lying, scaring the crap out of my besties(:, video games, suicide, impromptu everything, denial, compromises..., smoking, romantic comedies, needing, pleasure.., daydreaming, words, talking, exhilaration, the double standards i hold everything to, looking at myself, complicated things, fake!?!swimming, taking quizzes, stars, cuddling, homophobia, deceiving, insecurity, "predictably unpredictable..." jealousy, simple things, afterthoughts, meanness, consequences, over-analyzing, spaces, rules, imagining, freedoms, will, impromptu picnics, blame :/, revising&editing, antiques, favorite flavor, hatred, cyanide, contemplating, ignorance, being scared, watching movies, I am a very proud SanJuanita, names, pain, bargain shopping, blood..., splurging, thinking, being sheltered, misunderstanding, arguing(:, spazzing out, lying, crying and telling the truth, second-guessing myself, desire, suffering, bragging, a hole in my sleeve, admitting i was wrong, winning, falling, losing, texting you @ 4 in the morning :D<3, disturbing daydreams, depression (it sucks...), anime, exasperation!, manga, dares, ranting, distractions, breaking things, changing/teasing myself, talking to myself, arguing with myself, sometimes losing(:....lol feeling peaceful, keeping my mind open, camping, thinking outside the cube(: being crazy and hyper, redemption?, getting mad, acting, rocking out, slow dancing and tripping, picking myself apart, overdosing, sadomasochism, being clumsy, (badly) singing in the shower, writing, the bitter taste of angels, getting the right answer!, confessions, getting the wrong answer!, my scars, la~la~la~la, screaming in frustration, shame, rotflmao, psychiatry, 69-Yin and Yang you perverts!!! haha lording over my superior sense of conversation...okay i lied(: haha and most of all...Skin(:

Love,

San Juanita E. Hernandez(:

To My Reflection(:

DaDaDaDa...I'm in love. Won't tell you who it is, just that they're brighter than the sun, and even if it had any more room, they'd light up the surface, of the moon, and just like broken glass can heal, i found something, something real, and even though i don't know how, I'll stand up, and take a bow, and darling, you know you've never ever been wrong, i 'm sorry, i failed to realize you've known me all along(:♥

Welcome To My Blog!

Welcome to my Blog Beca(:

Per il mio cuore e le mani sottomesso sadico...

 To my submissive heart and sadistic hands...

Justice is blind, Marriage is fraught, O heaven, untoward me, thou sin is an art.

La giustizia sia cieca, Il matrimonio è gravido, o cielo, sconveniente me, peccato tu è un'arte.

I Am and ENFP(:

ENFP

Enthusiastic, idealistic, and creative. Able to do almost anything that interests them. Great people skills. Need to live life in accordance with their inner values. Excited by new ideas, but bored with details. Open-minded and flexible, with a broad range of interests and abilities.
Click here for a detailed description of ENFP.

Color Test(:

Color Test - Results

Your Existing Situation "Is strong willed and unwilling to take advice from others; however, finds herself currently in a dangerous situation which finding a solution should be top priority." Your Stress Sources "Needs to meet people who have the same high principals and values as himself, but finds the need unfulfilled. her need to feel dominate and superior leaves her feeling isolated and does not allow for her to give freely of himself. she would like to surrender and let go, but sees that as a weakness she must not give in to. Holding back will allow her to stand out for the crowd and earn a higher status, recognized by others as unique and important." Your Restrained Characteristics "Has high emotional expectations and desires to be the center of attention, which makes it difficult to find a satisfying relationship. her reserved, cautious nature makes her emotionally distant. " Emotionally demanding and will involve herself in close relationships but won't get too involved or give too much of himself. Is bothered when her needs and desires are misunderstood and she feels there is no one to turn to or rely on. her self-centered attitude can cause her to be easily offended. Is extremely determined to make her presence known as an important part of any team. she is flexible and able to do what is necessary to stand out from the crowd. Is willing to overcome any conflicts and difficulties that may stand in her way. Your Actual Problem "Needs to be viewed and respected as an outstanding individual, in order to build her self-esteem and self-worth. Resists any type of weakness and sets high standards for himself."

A La Venta

I dunno hee(:

Sentiments...

It's addictive.
This funny little feeling.
Whatever could it be.
I've never felt this way before...
Could it be?
Is my innocence still intact?
These images that flash through my mind...memories welling up inside me, like some amazing disaster....
It's infuriating.

Kandakicksass(:

Special kudos to her :) w/o her, my yaoi obsession wouldn't have as much fuel ^.^ thanks KKA for your awesomeness and wonderful writing skills, because you, are a friend :)

The Princess Bride

Love it(: Favorite movie!!! xD

dfywdrtyhews

http://secretlifeofwardrobe.blogspot.com/2011/04/la-finestra.html

Have a Knapp: Recent Sayings by a super intellectual 2 year old!...

Have a Knapp: Recent Sayings by a super intellectual 2 year old!...: "@ April 1st : Mommy is nursing Anna on the couch & Katey comes over with ducky to do the same. She then turns to me and (with a very conce..."

Dead-stare

Lalalalalalaalallalaallaalalalal The previous message has been deleted(:

Deleted.

Les fantômes solitaires du passé, s'immortaliser dans le froid de la brume, la rage du flou, et la vérité de la tromperie ...

Deleted. 

The Colors of Emotions, Loneliness, Solitude and Rapture, Exposed To Imagination and Details In An Adrenaline Rush Of Catastrophic Rewards and Occurrences.

Open your eyes. Close your eyes. Did you see the flash of green, and blue as the light died and your mind entered the darkness that is the upside down perfect chaos of the world? Your mind, this reality, this life and utter dependence on despondence is a sieve; this is a merit of inane questions and observations represented in the most humbly obnoxious and conciliatorily provocative manner which I could pull together and piece together in a jumble of thoughts ideas feelings senses intuition…contradiction. The colors of emotions in all acts of thinking speaking judging perceiving, they shimmer with complexly simple and tiresomely equal significance as the lonely caged and gentled solemn heart, that which should beat at the same pace as that of a wild untamed free gloriously free animal. That which can taste moonlight and inherit the beastly and lovely darkness of the night and loveless hateless prideless detailed day which; there right there; all the way there; is the absolutely wonderful beautiful majestic glory that is life liberty happiness. The rush of words spoken by your deadened tongue, hush, as words are silenced then profoundly magnified. Our Emotions seek to overcompensate with my words that they cannot express in mere tone or acknowledgements…

As time flies by, and the molten mottled moldered modern precipice floats over the rocks of indifference and indistinguishable intimidation as the unprepared metaphors and poetic devices clash in personification and the human Emotion catalogued as simplicity or humbleness, the mere will to give up your being, to regress to a time when instinct and learned behaviors were the cataclysm of evolution and indignation and as that of the holes in the timely unfurled space where past meets present shapes future, there the continuum of pride and deathly sins of humanity and confusion, there the core of our flawed and fatal language, manipulated countless times every nanosecond, used to assimilate what it would be like to see the colors of these alien emotions, so cold and loving just the same as warm and postponing. Those which format and extravagant all the lies that may collapse at any given moment as the diluted truth is filtered and brought back into correlation.

Imagine this. Loneliness is a person. She is small and fragile at first, meek as a meerkat in the survival of the fittest plaintiff that is the Earth, this world, its entire life spent within the confines of a beautiful and deadly savanna. So you ignore her. Lying there swathed in strips of cloth, there in the corner she watches with innocent amethyst eyes.  When you doubt she grows, when you are doubtful of everything and anything and many times and when you do, you present her with plates of imaginary food, a vial of inconsequential blood, a tighter grip in your loving hating faithful weakening mind....

And it’s undoing.

She in turn gives you bright green ink, poison in the most diligent and deferring distracting dominative way,  the ink that stains and marks and mortalizes your soul in her chaste claws of continuing calm and in the shadow of her iridescence the perfectly formatted rays of the sun expand and twist, pliable to the most extreme, and form a coverlet cloth of coincidence…its iridescence enables her to grow. To mature and to grow expand explode into something much more volatile, and deceiving and panicking and destructive more so than the most heavily guarded tears of truth. Time flies by, time never stops, the river flows, as dangerous today as it was yesterday, and even more so than it will be tomorrow…not very long has passed since the day her chokehold tightened on your bare sensitive flesh, and she has enough strength, enough will, to control your taciturn mind, and start dismembering the mechanisms of the most delicate chemical imbalances. Your mind. Your heart next. Then your senses. Soon your life is inclined and controlled by the most purest and kindest evil, she turns and twists and her honeyed lies and candied truths extend and touch and grip your Emotions…oh yes your Emotions. Those yes those. She overturns your mind, and the little important things go wrong, the little things the little things the little things that go wrong amass into the bigger things more important things, those bigger things bigger things, which writhe in archaic pain and glory slashing severing seductively suggesting several degrading marks which in turn consume you into slavish informality. She uses you, reduces you, confuses you….she defines your whole being and situation as the moment when the handgun becomes your only means of escape from her painless torture. Her clearest path is into obscurity, which is loneliness’ most horrendous and hideous dastardly devious demeaning drawing and dreamless interpretation of an idea.

Identifying her is much harder. Like all other emotions she lives in the brain, dispersed in solemn silence by chemicals, and as was intended…well…she is the exact same shade as all other emotions and all unforgiving delinquencies and incorrigible truths.

She is white. She is pure. For her innocence is never quelled, even as she murders you with your own hand…in your own blood. The truly lonely thing is that not one criminal is denounced, not one criminal arrested, not one criminal convicted because Loneliness is a cloaked assassin made up entirely of noxiously harmless fumes, and as brittle and dependent on diversity and adrenaline fueled alibis as the putrid and Emotionless smoke on noxious harmlessly harmful watered down lies.

She a cognitive reflex and a chemical imbalance. She is that which coerces you to the next level of assimilation and indignation. Parading about as a citizen when she, all her primal existence has been a witch and a healer in the depths of renowned Solitude.

The peachy beauty once known as Loneliness has progressed and morphed into Depressive Standards. And much as the substances which your eyes cannot define, they blend in and become that which does not obey. That which does not bow nor curtsy, and is longingly seeking the cure of indifference, whilst pouring her heat into a mold of devotion and shrouded layers of imperfection. She is that which is not afraid, brave as a lamb caught in the glare of the feral fearful folioed king of the jungle, pressed in between the book of Eli and Job, stressed to the point of incongruous desertification and impurity. That which is today keeps a calendar of when Emotion last ran amok and the colors of sanctification breached the fine line between vanity and conceit, plaguing all that as an opportunist would behold, lies in the eye of the beholder, or in the stained, bloody hand of the forgotten soldier….

The colors of the most genteel Emotion, is often forgotten and replaced with democracy etched in a charcoal and ink rendition of monarchy…all of which have forgotten the exact date of tyranny and oppression, whence only a few at a time can shine. And only a few at a time can live. Most never see the light of day, or meet the frantic pulsing pounding perfection of a human heart thought to be above that of Animals’ yet, as each of us forget, we are all Animals’ and we all, Animals’ of the like which have not progressed since the days of hot fears and fire, when the north winds, vaguely suggested obeisance and piety…each of us underestimate the abilities of tolerance the preprogrammed diversity of Emotion and forgetfulness.    

Will you throw your own self into harm’s comparatively contrasting ways?

Ethos.  Pathos. Logos.

Think of Solitude now. Think of her glory. What does she do? What does she divide? Conquer? Contrast? And Diffuse? She thinks, she plans, she uses, she…enables. She can do anything and nothing. She can compare all and everything. It is a matter of will, obeisance, and piety that she can love like death, and can poison with life. Just as insubstantiality itself cannot exert the same exact shade of white, and clarity, instead choosing to bare a scarlet and iron choked version of a knight, shrouded in a dragon’s blood and a tunic made of starlight and burnished copper gleams. She is clad in a veiled cloak of diminutive ursurpence and with the politest nod of her daring eyes, colorless to the colorful and colorful to the colorfilled each is a given, a ray of excuses used to cast upon Solitude hells’ fire, and the ruby encrusted gates of Judgment pass their holy virtue’d counsel on her own beguiling and deliberate smile.

She pays no heed, no mind. She is…the same kind of sophisticate and conniving beauty as talent, ignorance, bliss, tranquility, danger, loveliness, purity, courage, brilliance, timidity, daring, knowledge, science, religion, security and the most of all freedoms, in that which she plays her part, mindful of the most heretic choice and the softest sigh bath’d on a swollen and happy bed, filled with the excitingly voided mindful of mirth as all other chemical imbalances combined and as well.

Deliriously, that which is called Emotion will strangle and dissolve and depend and love all the exact colors of itself, but as our own fragile and captured souls writhe and plead and tremble, trapped behind a stunning, simple, strong shroud of silk that covers a beatific and archaic wall hidden in the dark recesses of our minds and heart of hearts where chemicals combine and solidify thousands upon thousands of imbalances to great and meek and powerful and humble and strong and arrogant, so much that even the most detailed and careful of words, cannot fully describe or detail how miraculous and wonderful these are, even with the most precise and eager words, all is lost and all is won, all shall fear and all shall hope, more beautiful, and treacherous there is nothing save nature, or glimpses of passing gold and loves undying flower, all are grouped into the same colorful extent as the bronze tipped sword which as a beatific smile alights upon her face, her crown of lavender looking to all the world as the queen of faeries and bottomless lies, hidden deep within a forest of elm and holly, we all cannot break through the of glass and dénouement.

Tis’ only abstract thinking which separates the two and each is identified by our own seeking searching stumbling souls seeking guidance. Everything who we are is a marvelous, contradictory and ironic yet right so oh so right combination of disgusting, delicious, absolutely imperfect ingénue and perfectly intriguing mystery.  A combination of instinct and learned behavior that dwells inside of a pile of hot, roaring coals, hidden deep within our blossom’d breasts and ruptured captivity to the world which is known as hollow and round, even as marvels are raised and torn down, these colors identify all that is, isn’t, and ever shall and shalt not be, in the midst of advances and impurities the most desired imperfections come from these Emotions, termed elaborately and explained enamored eradicated imbued and ephemerally senesced and brilliantly, cunningly, aptly, mockingly, oh so beautifully named and described in a flurry of colors, senses, and imagination as Emotions, and more specifically Loneliness, Solitude, and Delirious Rapture.

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A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Forum: Gymnasia

True Beauty

My scars make me beautiful. I don't want the beauty of the beholder, i dont want the fake airbrushed beauty of the glossy spreads of magazines. I'll keep my True Beauty, everything thats makes me me. that makes me San Juanita Eva Hernandez. and do ya know what? I. Love. Being. Me.

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Liffish

Been super busy, wouldn't have it any other way :))

Looking for first car (sure not getting it till next year lol) and Aaron Nixon is being mean :(( HAHAZ!!! Bye Byez BLOG!!! ^.^ and yes GAY PRIDE!!! ^,^

Bloody Jack

"Jack-Be-Nimble, Jack-Be-Quick, better watch out, or he'll give you a rip."

Mrs. Hiller

OMG-ness!!! I'm glad that i'm Mrs. Hiller...I shall do my best Brit accent ever ^.^ love, Jolie Laide

I Am Loved

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AFTHOTWTTF

LOL had so much fun yesterday at the play, i was Gymnasia the courtesan in A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Forum. lol loved it so much, thn went to McD's with the group, Isabel, Tayla, Stephanie, Aidan, Diego, Matt, :))) kk cya!

YAY!

I believe i can fly...not really haha. I am here and i shall put some random poetry on here :)) I am so happy right now! I love my shoes, my tee, my jeans, my MAKE UP! :)) I am so freaking happy!!!!

You know what this means! GAY PRIDE! RAINBOW POWER! ^.^
Jolie Laide is OUT!

Valentine's Day

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Hey There Delilah

I am under the impression that if i were to get a brand and place it in a fire and watch it heat and glow passionate orange and press it to your skin and watch it painlessly burn you,....If i were to mark you as mine, would you accept it and dance with me in a field of Aster? Would you drink rainwater sweetened by wild honey? Would we feast on dreams, and sleep on hope? Or would you gaze at me with steely gray eyes, and tell me you've lost yourself to responsibility?

Sometimes i wish the world wasn't so superficial. That everyone was spontaneous, and free, and random. But then, you couldn't walk at school and think to yourself "Wow, they're living a lie, and when it comes down to it, i'm going to be laughing at them when they hold on to their mask at night, to afraid to metamorphosize into the butterfly they are. Because everyone else is determined to be a caterpillar forever.

Meow?

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Requiem

Well here we go again, down this same old path. I walk in circles, stop and smell the flowers, get carried away with my words, and let my emotions run amok... yet all i can think about is you and how truly unstable you are...Life...why do you treat me this way? After I've dedicated myself to keeping you happy, why do you place in my path people who are determined to undermine and overlook me. I'm not complaining though...merely curious. I have so many friends I know actually care about me :) Thanks all of you haha for putting up with my Bipolar-ness, my Insecurities, my Loneliness, and my Know-it-all demeanor. I love you guys more than Life herself. You guys are the reason she's still alive. When things get dark I'm happy to say you bring Life to the Light and chase away Depression and Loneliness. I know some days i get immensely sad, and some days i am extremely annoying, i pray you guys forgive me :) But I'm glad you know who i am. and you look past my fragility and you see me. Thank You so much :)

Smitten With Smoldering Sycophants

I guess i could say I've always been taken advantage of. But that would be giving you way too much credit. Can i help it that i never liked saying "No." I'm pretty sure that I'm still human. A fragile, insecure, terrified human. I guess i doomed myself right from the beginning. Why oh why didn't i learn my lesson? Why oh why did i try so hard to be weird, to stand out, to be different? Couldn't i have put on a mask and blended in with you? Couldn't i have just stood up for myself? All those years, i was teased and tortured and made to feel like dirt. They were all my fault. I tried. I bragged, and puffed myself up, tried to intimidate, but no i was foolish. Still am actually. Hiding behind a thinly veiled screen of superiority. I've always sympathized with The Wizard himself. Respect was so valuable he paraded as the All Knowing of Oz. But the truths hurt so much. What would you do if i told you, I'm not smart??? I'm just a fraud. My so called "Brains" are just a result of loneliness, sarcasm, and incoherence. I lost myself in the books i read, i memorized the things i know now as a way to lose myself even more. I hid and rearranged myself and now what am i left with? A facade of intelligence and absolutely no emotions whatsoever. While other teenagers are asking themselves, Who Am I? I'm asking myself, How Do I Lose Myself More???

Comment subtile, les mots dont vous parlez sont empreints de haine, encore lacés avec la douleur.

Parfois, je voudrais pouvoir vous étrangler, parfois, je voudrais qu'il soit, vous et moi, dans le couloir de la mort. Face à une vie de crime juste pour cette merveilleuse éclatement à court d'adrénaline. Plus enivrant que n'importe quelle drogue devant elle.
si le monde est beaucoup plus grande que la cage de votre petit verre ...
et si ensuite la gaieté de vos rêves ne peut comparer à la piété de vos espérances, que faites-vous quand les deux ne sont jamais et ne sont jamais les deux?
Je vous le dis, vous tombez, à plat sur votre visage, et prie le soleil de s'arrêter si brillant, la lune d'arrêter de tirer les marées, et la chute monde entier dormait à votre commande ... Chut.
Calme. Avez-vous entendu? il est appelé silence. La fin est venue pour nous deux. Je vous souhaite bonne nuit.

How subtle, the words you speak of are full of hatred, yet laced with pain.

Sometimes I wish I could strangle you, sometimes I wish it were you and me in the corridor of death. Facing a life of crime just for this wonderful short burst of adrenaline. More intoxicating than any drug before it. if the world is much bigger than your little glass cage ...
and then if the gaiety of your dreams can not compare to the piety of your expectations, what do you do when the two are forever and are never both?
I tell you, you fall flat on your face and asks if the sun stopped shining, the moon to stop pulling the tides, and falling world slept with your order ... Shhh.
Calm. Have you heard? It is called silence. The end has come for us both. I wish you good night.