A horribly written free verse poem >.>

She lies in ruins

as a porcelain doll

who was shattered by your hate.

Pieces lay scattered upon the floor

and crunch beneath your feet.

This was the only way to be with you she said

her wish was mad

the die was cast

then perfection she became.

Dolls of porcelain

are beautiful to see

this we know to be true.

This girl that wished herself a doll

relayed only two words in death:

“….for you….”


Free Write

There are a ton of things that have been going wrong, and they just seem to be getting increasingly worse by the second. Tonight I am sleeping over at my grandmother’s house because we have no running water. I feel like there should be a joke in there somewhere, but I’m not quite sure where or what it would be. Anyway, my idiot of  a sibling has decided that he finally needed to get his ass back home to Georgia from Florida after spending the money my mother had originally given him to get back home. He now owes me 70 dollars for having to wire the little jerk money in order to get himself back up here. Brothers can be a complete pain sometimes. He was down there because his girlfriend lives down there and she is starting to jump his case about every little thing that happens between them, and he just needs to get back up here before they have a full-out fight and end up beating the heck out of each other. My brother’s problem is that he smothers his girlfriends until they go insane from having him around constantly. I know that other girls know the sort of relationship I am talking about, because I know that I can’t stand it when a guy doesn’t have his own identity and has to be around me all of the time or die from not knowing what to do. Regardless of all that though, Thursday evening my water pipes started to make weird noises, and so I just left it alone until the next day when I went to go take a shower that night (I had a hair appointment then next morning) and things started making a gurgling noise, things being the sink and the toilet. I went and flushed it wondering if it would do anything since the water seemed to be rising in it… I ended up having to mop the floor because it overflowed…. Go me. After I had cleaned everything up I went to go do some laundry that I had planned to do before, and something even more strange happened…. The washing machine drained the water out into my mom’s bathtub. When the tub began to drain we had to mop up the floor because some how it leaked out onto the floor into a big puddle. Yay for messed up things. Now I am laying on this super uncomfortable bed, because I have to have a shower tomorrow and this is the closest place with one. To top off everything that has been going on though, I missed an exam. My Ed. Psych class had an exam that was due possibly Friday or Saturday… I got an email today from my professor asking me where my exam was, and I had to explain that I had completely forgotten about it because of all the crazy things that have been going on…. I am now facing the fact that I may have to drop the class since I missed an exam, and we really don’t have but 2 more grades in the class….. Life is just wanting to give me the middle finger right now I guess.


I haven’t really been interested in a video game in a very long while, but last Thursday I bought Bastion on Steam, the program for PC gaming. Bastion was something that I had heard of a while back but didn’t want to spend the extra money to buy, though now I am so glad that it was on sale or else I never would have had this amazing gaming experience.

I am a RPG, or Role Playing Game, gamer and this makes finding decent video games exceedingly hard nowadays since everything has switched to shooter games like Black Ops or Halo whatever # that is up to now. Final Fantasy and Kingdom Hearts were the last series of games that I delved into, and I never even played the more recent versions of either of the two series. I like to play games for the story lines rather than just what I can beat the hell out of. Mortal Kombat was never really a game for me when I was growing up. Maybe that is just the writer in me…. I like to play things with a story line that is similar to something that I could have possibly written myself. I love fantasy games.

Bastion as a game was beautifully crafted, and the soundtrack is to die for. I never thought that I could love every track a game had on it until I heard this one, and all of the game play is simple to learn, but also complex in that you have to understand what to do next, and how to level each of your weapons to best suit what you as a gamer enjoy. I personally liked using a melee weapon and a ranged weapon so that I could aim either close or far away.

The story line was something that began as a very simple construct with an apocalypse, and then went off into finding out why this apocalypse happened since it was government orchestrated. I particularly enjoyed the fact that everything was narrated by one of the characters that you actually didn’t spend a whole lot of time with in the overwhelming majority of the game. By the end of the game you have become so enthralled by everything around you that it seems as if you have only been playing for an hour at most and an

Killing Insecurities

There was once a time where I believed that the world around me was easily defined in colors of black and white. I wanted my world to be like those old cliches where everything beautiful always defeats the darkness, and every person who is evil are as ugly outside as they are inside. These were the things that I wished would be true, but I know now that this was not something that was true.

When I was a little girl I was given this small bear from my father as a birthday present, it was supposed to keep me safe. How a toy bear can keep a person safe is beyond me, because it didn’t do its job. To be fair, I think the bear was part of the reason I grew up with so many problems. At age 5 I was convinced that someone was whispering things to me in my sleep, things about how I was going to die alone with no one to miss me. My thoughts at night were swamped with the images of people telling me how I disgusted them on a daily basis, and I believed the voices… they were my subconscious after all weren’t they? Not even close.

One night when I had turned 15, perhaps a bit too old to be sleeping with a teddy bear, but I didn’t care what other people thought of me. I ended up waking up this night during the voice whispering things to me, and saw something that scared me out of my mind. The voice that I had always heard in my head was that of a small child who was extremely convincing to my mind that had been weakened over time, and when I reached for my bear it was to find that it was staring at me. I looked back at the bear, and reached out to it since I had no reason to be scared of a toy. I was wrong. As I stretched my arms out to grasp the bear closer to me the eyes caught the moonlight that was flooding my room from the open window, and they seemed to take on a menacing light.

“You aren’t supposed to be awake,” the bear’s child-like voice caroled at me, and I could feel the cold sweat beading on my head. I immediately thought of that movie Chucky, and I knew that this toy was trouble.

“I– I’m sorry….” I croaked out, and then I saw a blade coming toward my face as the toy jumped for me.

“You should know better than to wake up while I am talking to you!” it screamed at me, and I let out a shriek like that of a banshee. I pop-tarted out of bed and ran for the closest room that had matches. The toy bear pursued me down the hall with it’s knife clutched within his fisted paw. “COME BACK!!!”

I made it to the kitchen, and dug out the matches before rushing outside into the stifling summer night, and waited. Just as I assumed, the bear came running right toward me, and before it had time to do anymore than get within 3 feet of me I splashed the toy in kerosene and struck the match which I then hurled away.

That damn bear burned like a forest fire in California, and soon there was nothing left of my insecurities. All was well, and I no longer felt that I wasn’t good enough.

Good Night Depression

I am trapped inside my head. No one cares. None of the other six people here can tell that inside my spirit is in upheaval. It all goes back to those two people who are sitting on the couch adjacent from me, and regardless of how I may pretend to be happy for them all I feel is the slimy hands of jealousy wipe their green slime all over my heart. So many people are happy. Why can’t I just be happy too? I take another pull on the drink that I have in my hand. I’ve forgotten just what I am drinking right now, and what does it even matter so long as it gets me to that point where none of the jealousy can pierce through the haze.

She is falling asleep in his arms, arms that I myself have envisioned wrapping around me as I listened to the lullaby of his heartbeat against my ear. No one can doubt that they look great together. Both of them are slender and beautiful. It’s no wonder that he would choose her over me; I always lose out on love because someone more lovely that me comes along. I feel so tainted. My past filters through the mask I wear to those who know me well, and it makes me feel ugly. I was weak against my father’s constant remarks on how I looked like a cow, and when he wanted to really hurt me he would moo at me. It’s no surprise that the man I was starting to vision myself with would want someone who was the opposite of the cow I had always been told I was.

Alcohol is starting to buzz through my veins, and the room around me is growing hazy… I can still see them though. It’s like a photograph of the aftermath of a tornado, I just couldn’t look away. I looked down and realized my bottle was empty, so I switched to straight rum, ‘the better to get you drunk as hell my dear’. Soon I couldn’t see straight at all, the two people on that couch became nothing more than blurs. I smiled to myself and thought, ‘I am happy now.” Eventually everything started to run together and I then my world went dark. I didn’t have to feel so ugly anymore, because when you enter your dreams everything happens the way you wish it. Good night depression, good morning fantasy.

“A Child Called It”

Before sitting down to pen out this post that I’m putting up tonight I had an assignment to complete for my Diversity in Education class before tomorrow afternoon. We had been told to read a book from the list that was provided to us on the first week or so of the class starting, and I choose the book “A Child Called It”. This seems to be the most popular of the books from the list, thus I decided that I would probably enjoy reading it the most. I did. The story of David Pelzer shook me to the core of my being, and not for the fact that I didn’t believe something like that was possible, but for the fact that I knew it was.

Child abuse is something that seems so far removed from the public eye that most people will forget that it happens all too often. Too many cases of child abuse go unheard or are just glanced over quickly and nothing is done about it. Sometimes it’s not even easily seen that someone is being abused by a parent or guardian until it comes out later on in that child’s life. I can personally attest to this as I have been a victim of small-scale abuse.

My father mentally and emotionally abused me for the majority of my life, and for the longest time I wasn’t even aware of that fact. I had always felt estranged from my father during my younger years, because he never really paid much attention to me or my brother if we didn’t have something major going on. He never showed up to support me at anything that I was a part of during my school years, and when he did he would always critique me. I was never good enough to earn any praise from him that wasn’t given to pacify the other people who would possibly overhear what he said to me. Being ignored wasn’t nearly as bad as when he started to openly degrade me.

About the time that I had started my freshman year of high school, my mother and father were spending more time in Dawsonville, GA taking care of a dying relative that at home as a family unit. Not that I particularly cared much for my father being home anyway. My mother would be gone Saturday morning and come back late Sunday evening when my father would arrive at the house my relative was living in. Every weekend I had to deal with a father who would drink way too much liquor and said he was only doing marijuana, but the odds are that he was possibly dabbling in other things that had a bit more oomph to them. I got use to having to either find a place to stay Saturday night, or be exposed to yelling about how I wasn’t cooking dinner for my father’s whiny ass and his friends which would usually escalate to throwing punches and him attempting to strangle me once or twice. After he tried the strangling thing and I gave him some amazingly bloody scratches he never tried that again, but the verbal abuse was even worse than anything else.

I constantly told that I was fat. My brother has always been on the slender side of things, as has my father, and so I was told that I needed to lose weight or else I wouldn’t be attractive to anyone. He actually mooed at me more than a few times as well. The reason that I still have to be overly critical of everything that I wear is because I was always worried that I would look like a cow and he would moo at me if I something fit a bit too snugly on me. Up until 2 years ago I couldn’t wear clothes that were actually my size, and I would have to buy things that were too big for fear that I would look like a fat cow. He didn’t stop at calling me fat though. When I got accepted into Berry College for my freshman year of college he decided to tell me that I would be back home crying in over a month. I was, apparently, not strong enough of a person to handle having my own responsibilities. When he would take the hurtful comments too far was when the verbal abuse would escalate to trading blows with each other. Most of the time I would end up with multiple bruise and possibly dripping blood from at least one place.

Things have calmed down since my parents divorced some 2 and a half years ago now, but there are still some residual things that I fear are always going to be with me. I can’t hear yelling without feeling the need to start yelling back cuss words for fear of having to defend myself. My temper is still held together by a shockingly short fuse, and there are triggers that will set off this temper for no reason at all. The point is that abuse, rather of a smaller scale like mine or over-the-top like David’s, really does exist. If you see someone being abused, either by a spouse or parent, please alert someone immediately, because you could be the savior they need.


“My lord, we will kill whoever has committed this atrocity.” these were the words that I overheard one of the Azorius guards speaking from the throne room that I had hidden myself within. ‘These idiots will never think to look in the most obvious place with in the room. They believe they are the ultimate power among those of us who reside within the city of Ravnica. Come to think of it though, almost every one of the ten guilds happen to believe that they are the supreme leaders of the world we live in.’

After obtaining the item I had been sent into the stronghold of the Azorius guild to retrieve, the Azorius Signet, I was forced into hiding. Nothing better than to bask within the chaos created from my actions. The group of people that I am watching at this moment are those who see themselves as the supreme judges of all of us, and many of us in the House of Dimir believe that they are full of themselves. Not that we would have had to think very hard to come to that conclusion. It was my mission to come and steal something that they valued, and so I chose the symbol of their power… their signet. There was power coursing through the object I held, and I knew that this would send all of these people into a frenzy. I am glad to see that I was right.

“You had better, or you usefulness will have played out to it’s limit.” Augustin IV commanded to the faceless guard that stood before him. I almost wished that I could see what the leader of this guild would consider a punishment. Making the guilds fall would be that much easier to make a reality. The House of Dimir will one day rule the world of Ravnica. And I was one of the people who were going to help our guild get to that point.

Augustin and his guard parted ways, and I sneaked around the suit of armor in a corner that I had decided to slide behind. ‘Too easy,’ I was thinking to myself as I stealthily ghosted my way out of the castle-like building and down the street towards the tunnels that housed my home, Dimir. The smirk I had on my face was one that probably looked like that of a shark which had finally found the prey it wished most to devour. Azorius was going to fall, and Szadek would be able to make sure it happened now that I held an object of power from that guild.