Right?
Well now this one is ten times better than all of those other ones (but well that's what I thought about all those other ones when I started writing them in the first place and then I got bored but well you know LET'S NOT TALK ABOUT IT OKAY MOVING ALONG MOVING ALONG...!)
The point:
New book.
The reason:
Because it effing rocks.
Why should you care:
Because if you don't then well... why are you here and reading this? Go read some other blog, dumbass!
If you do care:
I love you. I think we're going to be wonderful friends. ; )
Ya see, that's the problem with chicks nowadays. WE NEED TO BE MORE OLD FASHIONED.
Not in the sense of damsel in distress "Help, oh, knight in shining armor, help-ith thee!" but we need to stop worrying about how hot (and *cough cough* dumb ((c'mon, let's be honest here)) ) our boyfriends might be and worry about what's on the inside and if they're genuine. Yes, looks matter, but they shouldn't be the only thing that matter. Certainly not the only thing we look for, people!
But anyhoo, how'd I get from writing to idiocy?
I really don't know. All I know is the two don't mix well. Writing is sacred.
Idiocy is not.
Get my drift? : )
Anyways, here's a few chapters from my book. If you don't like it, eh. Let me know what's wrong. Nicely. Mmk? Don't go all, "Oh it effing sucks, bro!" because then I'll say something unforgiveable like "That's okay, because so does your napkin." and thus confuse the crap out of you making you stay up all night wondering, God, what the hell did that amazing, wonderful chick mean, my napkin, of all things? I dissed her glorious brilliant writing and she went and dissed my napkin. Huh?
*insert evil cackling here* >D
Mmmk, maybe you wouldn't go about it exactly that way, but you get what I mean. So yeah. My book. Still don't know what to call it. Haven't gotten that far in life. You know how it goes. Write an awesome book. Never come up with a name for it. Codename: Unknown. Has a nice ring to it, no?
***
One
Darkness was my serenity.
Light was a knife in my eye’s socket and an inferno in my head, grinding my brain into mush, like a hundred light bulbs lighting up hay and setting it on flames.
There is no refuge.
There is no sanctuary; there is only darkness and I, and I and darkness, and the two of us, and what we are together.
Loneliness.
Pain.
Tears glass blood light ice flames.
I am pain, pain is me, and we are one. We live under the same roof have the same morals we are the same person.
There is no other way around it.
There is only one difference between pain and I.
Pain does not have a heart.
It does not care that it kills you that it hurts that it makes you suffer that it grinds your bones to ashes to dust to smoke it does not matter. Pain does not care. It will take your life from you and it will not feel a thing about it.
I will.
If I take a life I will cry I will mourn a little scrap of me will die as well a piece of my soul will disintegrate into nothingness.
I am afraid of the pain.
I am defenseless against it; it is more powerful than I. I don’t have the courage to defeat it. I am afraid.
I am not the first.
And I won’t be the last.
Two
The doctor said that I was to be blind within the next year that my sight would not see another orbit around the sun.
That’s when the headaches started.
They continued to grow worse throughout time, time, time, time, and on and on they grew worse.
My vision started to grow blurred, and soon I couldn’t read small print, and then large print, and I became extremely sensitive to light.
Soon after I couldn’t see in color at all.
If you’d excuse my very morbid pun, my life was very grey.
They cranked pill after pill into me. Nothing stopped it, slowed it, nor made it less painful.
There was no explanation for why this was happening. It just suddenly—happened.
And I honestly had no idea why it had to happen to me.
I mean, of course I certainly would not wish pain upon any living organism that had ever slithered across the earth, but I could point out at least a hundred others who deserved this more than I in my educational system alone.
I wasn’t in any way trying to say that I knew terrible people or that the children in the school that I went to were in any way more troublesome than I.
It was merely an observation. Nothing more.
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