Don't infect this thread with more lies, whore. Just walk away. Now. NOW.
You totally took what I said, raped it, gave it a rabid form of STD, and threw it back in my face. I hate you right now.
Blade. He never fails. He's black, and he's a vampire. I'm sorry, but who else cannot see fault in that?
Holy mother of god, you are so effing beautiful. ._.
I was there. That was the conversation where you bullied my shortness and Samm came onto you. That was a good night. :B
I was actually doing my hair in the bathroom~ ...What?...My bedroom is too messy... Thanks everyone for the comments. Jeffy, I want photographical evidence that you enjoyed yourse-*shot* You all look FABULOUS !
Spoiler xD Bad mask.
What we could be. Let’s pause this masquerade, And gaze up to the skies. I am the ocean of your blissful facade, Constantly wondering why. We could have been so beautiful, Instead of staying shy. We could have built our own little world, And witnessed it through bright eyes. We could have captured our desires, Bottled them like fireflies, But we remained motionless and still, And let all our dreams die.
Sorry. Immense writers block. Well done Harriet C: <3 Gone. I promised I wouldn’t cry, darling, But the moment just proved too much, You are my desired food; I’m starving, I’m craving your loving touch. We always miss things once they’re gone, And I shouldn’t have hurt you like I did. I could kill each moment where I blew you off, And it’s only myself I won’t forgive. I used to pretend that it was all your choice, My God, how I brutally lied. My throat is swelling at the thought of your voice, Darling, I promised I wouldn’t cry. I need you to help me tonight, hunny, I don’t think I’ll make it through. How am I supposed to ignore this desire? This desire to love you.
Sorry for going offline suddenly last night. Arguments with parents and such xD
I'd say more scottish, really. Ginger hair (sorry Jakezy) = Scottish
Beautiful people. <333 Large pictures. Sorry. :/ Oh, fudge. It was all blurry. Spoiler Spoiler
Where's your car, dude? >> Epic picture, Forsaken xD I actually have a friend called Zoltan. No joke.
Phase Nine Let’s Have a Singsong Christmas time, Mistletoe and wine, Daddy has committed suicide, Mom is knelt by a bucket, On her hands on knees, I’m sobbing my heart out, And she’s laughing at me. I picked up another plastic bottle, placing it in the bag I carried around the living room. My hands shook, forcing the various pieces of glass and other materials to rattle about the sack. With a sharp gasp, I reversed a step, glancing to the cream carpet in disgust. The brown liquid that clung to the material moulded itself to the sole of my bare foot, releasing its foul odour into the stale atmosphere around me. I gagged, covering my mouth with my hand and dropping the black bag to the floor simultaneously. “Oh my god.” Watching the plughole drink away the sourly tainted water sent a sigh of release shuddering through my frame. I balanced my foot on the side of the bathtub, letting the light of the dimly shining bulb above me help inspect the small wounds I had sustained. Small shards of glass flickered in the light, smiling at me as I struggled to pry them out with small clippers. This was tradition. A party animal, tearing through the house in the festive season, leaving the residue of fractured bottles and memories alike behind for me to clean. This should come across as worrying, with the date of merry tidings arriving so soon after the bereavement of a figure seen to be so dear; the lack of mourning was disturbing. A sham of regurgitated liquids and crushed, spineless bottles plastered across any moveable space. An unmoving figure seemingly dead in the hallway. A tree, broken and deprived of the loving sprinkling of decorative objects, crooked and misshapen in a rustic corner. Cliff Richard blaring from the radio. ‘Tis the season to be jolly. *** It’s as if my mind was a cup, and what she said was water; it went in, stayed in, moulded perfectly into shape. I stared at the paper below me. It stared back. I sighed. It flickered slightly with a giggle. I gritted my teeth. It fell silent. I remained silent. The clock continued ticking away. “What I want you to do, Emma, is write down everything about yourself.” “What do you mean?” “Write down on that piece of paper right there, what you are like as a person.” “How the hell am I supposed to know about something when I'm scared of it?” “Are you implying that you don’t know who you are?” “Of course, I hardly know anything about myself. I swap and change insanely fast, it's hard to keep track.” “Just... Just write down anything you might know.” Emily-ann. Emily. Emmy. Emzy. Emma. My name has endured so many phases of shortening; I fail to care about what I’m named anymore. I don’t care about much anymore. It seems that words and actions have stripped me of most dignity, and killed the frail confidence I once held. And do you want to know what my reaction to it all is? Fuck you. Fuck you all. I looked back up. He looked back. “I’m done.” *** I smiled, giggling at the words that appeared on the screen of my phone. Another text message; the fifteenth that evening. She was insisting that I could talk to her about anything, and the butterflies that bounced around in my stomach seemed to nod in agreement as I questioned such a thing. She’s lying. “Becky wouldn’t lie to me.” I insisted with a whisper, smiling as I received another message. She made me smile a lot. It turns out that she had been bugging Samantha for my number for a while now, and Sam finally caved in when she’d had enough of hearing Becky’s voice in her ear whenever I wasn’t there. You’re a strong person. I know you are. You’ll survive. (: x She’s lying. “No. Becky wouldn’t lie to me.”
knob. (:
Don't imply such a thing, dear. KHV was build on the foundations of disrespect, trolling, alts, and many other blasphemous traits of which we cannot and should not go into right now.
Us British folk are amazing when it comes to the pronunciation, spelling, and many slang/variations of words. Americans just skip a letter a dumb our accent down a scale. It's saddening, really. What the fudge are you thinking.
Not this sugar again.
We've ran out of humour. I say we grow senses of humour in a cornfield-like fashion down in africa, and import them back into the internet. We could sell them, too, if we wanted. [:
Impressions. You probably don't know me. But hey. Opinions on Jeffree Star, please. Opinions on Just Beiber? (...I think I spelt his surname wrong, but you know who I mean.) Do you have the love that loves from above when push comes to shove? There is a pin somewhere inside your body. It is lodged very awkwardly. Where is it? What is brown and sticky? 'tis all. [: x
