please note...

inhaling toxic fumes, even if you can't smell them, makes you very spacey.

beats me...

it is almost halfway though september. that means my last year of college is reaching the point of being 1/4 over. that is a scary thought. i don't feel mature enough to graduate. sometimes i feel like all of these people know something about me that i haven't figured out yet and are wondering why i don't see what they do. being your own worst critic gets very tiring because some days you feel like you will never measure up. being an art student/hopeful artist doesn't always help because you are always being pushed to go farther and be more innovative. sometimes i just want to paint for the sake of painting. oh bother...so i was working at poetry stuff earlier and here is what i came up with...it's still pretty rough so try not to laugh.

Her beautiful dark eyes form a pool of emotion.
Hiding behind the layers of masks is their true identity.
Longing for release, encaged by grief.

Vulnerability impossible- for it's too much too soon.
She'll slip behind layers of pearls and lace,
and put on the face she's always worn.

The women will see her and think, "I wish it were me.
My life would be perfect and free of pain.
I'd have no worries and be carefree.

People would know me when I walk down the street.
Men would adore me, a date everynight-
no more tables for one, except by choice."

She has a face that everyone knows,
but at night she cries and begs for death,
as she she sees a reflection even she forgets.


needs editing and such but i guess it's a start

back in the day

my pops was stylish!! this is my dad when he was younger...maybe before my parents got married. i found it to be quite fun.