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<font size="2">
I'm so tired of playing,
playing with this bow and arrow.
Gonna give my heart away,
leave it to the other girls to play
for I've been a temptress too long.
From this time, unchained, we're
all looking at a different picture
through this new frame of mind.
A thousand flowers could bloom.
Move over, and give us some room.</font>
(song lyrics: portishead- glory box.)
<font color="#ffffff"><font size="1">[ September 23, 2008 04:41 AM: Message edited by: ticking time bombs ]</font></font>
<font color="#ffffff" size="1">[ October 13, 2008 04:59 PM: Message edited by: ticking time bombs ]</font>
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<center>http://i174.photobucket.com/albums/w...ntitled-18.jpg</center>
<font size="2">
She had demons licking at her back, collectors breathing down her neck, and a world full of emotionless voyages. "There are two types of evil, Vivian." She had been told once as she sat Indian style on her bedroom floor, still dressed in her middle school uniform. "Those that can be felt as soon as they enter the room," the male voice spoke with a strict precision, "and those that cannot. You, my dear," the male paced around her, hands rubbing together, "are the latter."
She couldn't remember his facial features, the way his body moved, or anything else remotely descriptive about him besides the fact that he had been visiting her frequently since the age of thirteen.
He didn't visit her anymore, of course, but she still felt his presence near even now. Even now, after she had done what she'd done. She felt his approval in her bones every time she stared into her hollowed-out reflection.
She didn't care what they said. She'd never regret it.</font>
<font color="#ffffff" size="1">[ September 10, 2008 08:06 PM: Message edited by: ticking time bombs ]</font>
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spring 2007
<font size="2">
?There?s just something different about you, Viv. I may not be able to explain it, but I can?t fucking deal with it anymore.?
Vivian merely watched as the man, and oh how beautiful the man was, turned his back to her and began tugging his jeans up with frustration. He wasn?t anything glorious; he didn?t have the face of an angel or the body of a God, but she loved him. Had loved him. She didn?t even think she could feel love anymore, yet out of habit . . .
?Patrick, come on. Don?t go. You?re being ridiculous and irrational,? and even though she should have been begging, she refrained from ever using the word ?please.? He was so good to her yet she couldn?t even muster up a reason for him to stay. ?I?ve just been stressed out because of work. You know that.? She sat up with her elbows, balancing the weight of her upper body on the bed. Her blonde hair was tangled from the lovemaking they?d been attempting to have a few moments prior before she realized halfway into it that she couldn?t feel much from his touch, his kisses.
?Shut up, Vivian,? he'd never used her full name before that moment. He turned to her, nostrils flaring and as soon as she was about to open her mouth, he silenced her again. ?I don?t want to hear any of your bullshit. I know there?s someone else. Where the fuck else would you sneak off to at odd hours of the night? Why would you come home, smelling as if you?d just gotten out of the shower? You fucked with the wrong man, Vivian. Mark my words.? He wasn?t yelling, no. He was speaking through gritted teeth, as if his control was right on the edge. Did she dare push him over?
?If there was someone else, why would I stay with you??
?There is nothing you say that means anything.? He was losing it. He stormed over to her, gripping her chin. ?Tell me you love me, Vivian. Tell me you fucking love me.?
She looked at him calmly, her expression blank. ?I love you.? Her eyes were void of any emotion and something secret danced behind them. A ghost of who she used to be. Who she had been.
He gripped her chin hard then, causing her to wince. ?Fuck you, Vivian.?
The love of her life walked out on her that day and she never saw him again. She should have felt more sad, should've felt dismayed and unloved, yet she couldn?t cry. Couldn?t shed a single tear for the man, or anyone else for that matter.
She?d stopped crying at age thirteen.
Oh, and this little heartbreak? This ache of the heart? Oh, she?d get over it. It would fade away like the fingerprint bruises left behind on her delicate jawline.</font>
<font color="#ffffff" size="1">[ August 16, 2008 07:41 PM: Message edited by: ticking time bombs ]</font>
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<center>http://i174.photobucket.com/albums/w...lkel/fvhjk.jpg</center>
journal entry 1
<font size="2">I need help. I need someone to help me control this monster I?ve allowed into my body. Or is he in there? I can?t tell for sure.
I should have planned it more thoroughly, should have thought everything through but I did what I normally do, didn?t I? I rushed into it, blindly and eagerly, like a clumsy virgin with her very first lover.
Oh, fuck me. My mind feels so confused these days. I find myself seeing things that aren?t really there and voices speak to me when everything is quiet, when everything is quiet.
I?m going insane-- I didn?t ask for this! I think He?s trying to possess me but I don?t know for certain. I don?t know anything. I?m ignorant to the ways of demons. I should have known, I should have known ..
I won?t last long if things keep on this way. Every day I struggle-- there?s a constant war going on in my head, my body.
I can feel that little piece of soul I have left slipping right through my greedy fingertips. I feel feverish, faint, like I could lie down right where I am and die at this exact moment. I want to give up. He?s willing me to give up..
I need to talk to someone. I need to get a hold of myself. I can?t do it on my own.
But who? Who would help me now?
<u>Who can fucking help me now</u>?
I found some old pictures of myself. You know, before I did what I did.
I looked so beautiful.
And I was happy. I looked alive. My eyes were vivid and bright, my cheeks were flushed with life. (Even though I still notice that haunted look behind my eyes..)
I don't look that way anymore.
I never will again, I never will again..</font>
<font color="#ffffff" size="1">[ September 10, 2008 08:01 PM: Message edited by: ticking time bombs ]</font>
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<font size="2">
Start at my toes, for this is where the evil grows.
My legs are sharp, might split your skin
and spill the juice that feeds your grin.
Take to walkin' up my spine,
see my love drip down like spit wine,
and then I'll take your jewels in my bag
and take 'em home to Mama.
Take the slaughter to the lamb,
take the hung to the ham (and back),
take the neck to the crack, and POW.
How does it feel? Whatever you get you steal.
And I'm bored, rooted to the floor
and what I want you just can't buy anymore.
So I'll collect your jewels in my bag
and take 'em home to Mama.
I want some push to my shove
but your hand is in my glove and I'm mad,
bad, ripped raw and bleeding.
Swinging like a beef hook on the hips of hell,
and the stains on my boots say my life is goin' well..
To snap your skinny neck in two,
would be the least that I could do.
So I'll collect your jewels in my bag
and take 'em home to Mama.
Stop at my bones,
for here my evil made its home.
This is where the evil grows.</font>
(song lyrics: ruby- bud.)
<font color="#ffffff" size="1">[ September 23, 2008 04:40 AM: Message edited by: ticking time bombs ]</font>
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<center>http://i174.photobucket.com/albums/w...edmkmkmkmk.jpg</center>
<font size="2">She was standing in front of her full length mirror, bare as the day she she?d been born. Her fingers were roaming-- not out of pleasure, but out of curiosity. Is anything different? Are there any new marks?-- Her milk white skin seemed so soft, so fragile, so beautiful?
She knew better than that.
Her eyes, her eyes, her eyes-- they were so hollow, so void of emotion, is the pretty shade of blue fading? She leaned in closer and her breath fanned the glass for only a few moments before the fog she left behind began fading away. That was a sign of the living, wasn?t it? At least I?m still alive.
?No, you aren?t,? something whispered from the deep dark corners of her mind. Something that had no distinct voice, something familiar and strange, with a power over her that she didn?t like. ?You were made to kill, Vivian,? the voice went on. (But could she really call it a voice? She couldn?t hear it. It was more like a thought in her mind. Was it, though, really?) She continued staring in the mirror, and she watched her eyes flash. It was a subtle thing, this transition between vivid blue to a metallic hue-- shining like mirrors at her own reflection. ?People have been mean to you, haven?t they?? There were no sympathetic undertones. ?Do it, Vivian. You can do it. You know what to do. Do it, do it, do it.?
No, she thought. I only.. I only do it to those who-- ?To those who remind you, Vivian? Do you think I forgot the way you used to cry?? The voice seemed to be mocking her. Anger was boiling under her skin and her body began to tremble. How dare you?
The ability she had, it was coming to the surface, but who could she turn her sights on? There was no one around, no one around. She made the mistake of looking in the mirror again, mesmerized by the beautiful reflection her eyes played for her. How pretty, she thought. If only they could look like this all the time..
To her horror, she realized her mistake and tore her eyes away from her reflection. Something was laughing evilly in the distance, fading away from her mind as she dropped to the floor, landing harshly on her bottom. Her bare knees were pulled up and pressed, hard, against her chest as she wrapped her arms around the tops of her knees. Rocking back and forth, she hid her face in the crook left behind by her arms and legs. I didn?t look for long, she insisted. I?m okay.
But she wasn?t okay. She?d never be okay. It was little mistakes like this that were slowly driving her insane. She wanted to drive others insane-- and she could-- but it didn?t stop at that. She could do it to herself, too. He isn?t doing it, she thought to herself bitterly, even though her mind was becoming jumbled again. I?m doing it.
Who could save her now? Who could save her now?
She stayed like this for hours-- naked on the floor, rocking back and forth, muttering crazy things to herself. She stayed like this until she passed out where she was and didn?t wake up for two days. However, when she did wake up, it was with an intense rush of feeling and a sharp frame of mind.
?I?m okay,? she said confidently.
No. She would never be okay.</font>
<font color="#ffffff" size="1">[ September 10, 2008 08:03 PM: Message edited by: ticking time bombs ]</font>
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<center>http://i174.photobucket.com/albums/w...l/fgsdfgdf.jpg
<font size="2">There's something wrong with the world today.
I don't know what it is. Something's wrong with our eyes.
We're seeing things in a different way, and God knows
it ain't His. It sure ain't no surprise.
We're living on the edge.
There's something wrong with the world today.
The light bulb's getting dim. There's meltdown in the sky.
</font></center>
journal entry #2
<font size="2">Am I making a mistake? I always seem to do that.
I want to hide in the most ridiculous, unusual place-- a place where no one will think to look. A place where no one can find me.
That'd be good.
I'm diving head first into a new set of problems, but how severe they will be, only time can tell.
Only time can tell..</font>
(song lyrics: aerosmith- living on the edge.)
<font color="#ffffff" size="1">[ September 23, 2008 04:42 AM: Message edited by: ticking time bombs ]</font>
