bountykat

Por Supuesto!

2007-12-15T01:20:06Z

Ah, yes!
Of course, you can see the puddles of tears I've left in my wake,
tiny oceans,
all around the city.
And, of course!
I"m sure you know
that the whole city will flood.
But,
thinking only of myself,
what have I got to lose?
It's safe to assume
that you know
I love you,
and, congratulations!
Only a little less than I ever did!
But, at the top of the building,
looking down on this water-logged city,
I find solace in the fact
that I'm sleeping with multiple people...
but only one wants you.

:D

bountykat @ 2007-11-18T23:01:00

2007-11-19T05:04:23Z

Okay, so, pretty much everyone should read this manga.
It's short, only one page, but it's really moving, I think.
Okay, yeah, whatever, it's a hentai manga.
LOOK PAST THAT, PEOPLE.

Anyway, if the image doesn't load the first time, refresh it, and even the images that say they are not available really are.

http://gallery-vetyuh93oao26gn.usercash.com/

Here we are again...

2007-11-14T05:27:52Z

So, here we are again.
Another thirteenth of November.
This one's supposed to be so important, but I really don't feel any different. Everything was great today, nothing went wrong. I, in fact, should have really loved today because I got to eat sushi, have sex, and stay out late. I even got some socks out of the day, which is really a big score if you're as much a lover of socks as I am. My mind wasn't preoccupied with anything in particular today, everything came and went from it normally. Everything was just as damn bland as it always is. No noteable feeling, no real experience.
Until, unexpectedly, I get some stupid message.
Some stupid, condescending, patronizing message.
Okay, just to get it through to you, YOU WIN.
You have everything.
I will never stop truly loving you, you affect me, even a simple and impersonal message over the internet means so much.
Too much, really.
I wish you'd never existed, I wish we'd never met, never been together.
Most of all, I really wish that you still loved me.
Or, ever really did.
You know that I still care, I'm sure, sir.
So, why do you feel the need to try to remind yourself?
Let it go, please.
I FUCKING MISS YOU.
There, you happy?

Douchebag.

Longing for Onii-San.

2007-11-05T02:58:32Z

    "All I have ever wanted in life was a big brother!", I say.

    "Experts" say that lack of a proper father figure during girlhood can lead to sexual promiscuity later in life (during the teen years, adolescence, whatever). That's what I've heard, anyway.
But, my father was always there (at least physically)...so what happened to me?
     "I just want him to take me to the zoo, the movies, take me for a milkshake!", I continue.
    "Those all sound sort of like date activities to me..." she says, with detectable disapproval in her voice.
    "Maybe they are...", I think.

    I decide that this would make sense, as, assuming that I am going to have sex with most boys I am around and acting accordingly is really all I know how to do. All I've ever done.
    It's just where I am comfortable.
    Or, I suppose, lacking knowledge of how to truly be comfortable, the uneasiness of such situations makes me feel, in a sense, at home.

    I don't know my big brother. I know who he is, and I've seen him a few times throughout my life, but If prompted, I couldn't even tell you how old he is, his favourite colour, the colour of his eyes, where he lives.
I couldn't even tell you the last time I saw him.
He never visits, never calls, he doesn't care about me.
It's like I don't exist to him, nor he to me.
When people ask if I have siblings, I reply, "Yes, a sister."
I'm sure he hasn't thought about me since the last time we saw each other.
I'm sure, to him, I don't matter.

    And I think, the reason I sleep with so many boys is to gain approval. Gain the approval, acknowledgment, that my actual big brother has never, and will never, give me.
    "Yes...", I reply after contemplation, "Those do all seem like date activities." Because they are. Because my big brother is just another boy I don't know, so instinct would kick in.
    I would follow through with the way I always act around any boy.



    I'm turning eighteen soon, and the damage, the void that's been created, they're irreversible effects.
    I'm being thrust into adulthood with all of this longing, the little girl inside me can now truly never be made happy.
    But it will be there forever, that little girl, needing to be tended to, needing a big brother.
    "I barely know him, I just wish he'd been around more, that's all." I finish.
    "Well, we all want things. Maybe you'd have gotten to know him, maybe he'd have come to visit you more if you'd not been so cold to him during your last few encounters."

    She's right, but the problems had already manifested by then.
        "He'd already not been around for long enough that, really...what was there to say(I've wanted to call, but is there any use, big brother)?
    What was there to do?"
    I say this to her, to my reflection, and know that Resolution will never be.
    It will always be his fault, my fault, his, mine, etc.




    Big brother, all I've ever wanted was you in my life.
    Why couldn't you have just been there for me?

Okay, so...

2007-10-26T04:10:05Z

In the spirit of Halloween I have decided on using orange.

This is my (unfinished) attempt at a short story.
I would, obviously, as I am publicly displaying it, appreciate your feedback (compliments or otherwise).
But, please, being that I am fragile, keep the criticism constructive.
C'mon guys, this isn't a roast.
(And, yes, I know I use an immense amount of commas, but I put them where I feel they should go, not the exact places which grammar designates.)

Okay ladies and gents, here goes (lightly edited) Installment I!!!

    We walk into the hotel room. It's warm and stuffy and smells overly sterilized, implying that there was some reason it had desperately needed to be cleaned. Outside, it's freezing, and the window is streaked with falling rain, frost clinging to the outer edges. I start to strip off my many layers, letting the damp cloth fall to the floor [ hat, jacket, jacket, sweater, boots]. Walking over to the bed, I can feel his eyes on me, and everything gets warmer.
I throw myself onto the bed, lie back and take a deep breath. Still wearing my jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and my scarf, I look back at him, directly in his eyes. I barely succeed at my next attempt: looking right through him. It's somehow seems hard to do that this time.
    He grins in a bit of a mischievous way, hands in pockets, looking me up and down. He's still standing a few feet from the bed , so I adopt his grin and beckon for him to come nearer with my hand. I'm sitting up on my elbows and I follow his path to the bed with my eyes. He slowly climbs onto it and leans over me.
I am immediately filled with an overpowering desire for time to stop, for the lights to die, for the rain ti become so loud that it drowns out anything I could possibly be thinking. An overpowering desire for him to stop looking me in the eyes.
He leans in and kisses me, soft and sweet, but still firm and wise. His hands run down my arms, my torso, my legs. Through my hair and over my face.
    In the next instant, like the action of undressing hadn't been necessary, I am bare.
    His hands are so warm, it's as if fire were coursing through his veins,and I can feel the warmth of the rest of him pressed against my side. His breath warms my face and neck between kisses and for a little while, time does stop.
    My hands are caught in his curls and his lips are, once again, pressed against mine. His fingers walk up the side of my thigh, begging, from me, dramatic breaths. The arrival at their destination puts me in a hazy state, and my fingers close. I tug as he pushes and, all at once, I am filled with an extreme sorrow, which I reject, replacing it with a temporary, ignorant happiness, that is dragged from somewhere inside my head void of the potential for deep thought.
    When neither of us can stand it anymore, he is inside me.
     I think about the symbolism of the situation, as not only is he physically inside me, but also mentally, emotionally has he penetrated me. I will myself to stop thinking such things, because I fell that, somehow, in this position he may be able to tell what I'm thinking.
    I'm wrapped up in his arms, and I bask in every moment of it, engraving every detail into my mind. I bury my head in his chest, and clamp my eyes shut. My nails are digging into his back and I don't want any of it to end.
    The pleasure (and,in turn, pain) is almost too much to bear. My voice matches the volume of the rain and it's all finally over.
    For the next few hours, the monotonous drone of the television isn't what I'm concentrating on, nor the fierce rain, nor the flickering lamp. All I can focus on is his steady breathing and his arms wrapped tightly around me, even in sleep.
    It takes every ounce of willpower in my body to tear myself away from his arms, from the comfort of the bed, from the warmth of his body against mine.
    It takes every ounce of willpower I have to tear myself away from the everything I've ever wanted, because, at least for tonight, it's all right there.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Ho-hum

2007-10-22T06:09:28Z

If only just a little
Maybe we could
Pretend?
Like it never happened.
Like whatever I'm referring to
(I'm sure YOU know-wink wink)
Was just a dream?
Vivid (far too) and Mutual...
But a
Dream
Nonetheless?
Maybe we each could forget
That the
Other
Exists so we
(I mean, of course, I)
Could just forget what really
Should
Be?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
How long would my brain-fluid have to be part Drain-O for me to fucking understand the way you work?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
-MY RECENT ATTEMPT AT DEEP THOUGHT-
It's not like I think about you.
It's not like I really care.
I wish I could hate you,
So at least there'd be something.
It's hard to believe
That I have noting left for someone (who has now become just another anyone)
To whom I had given my life
The meaning of my (therefore THE) world.
I feel a certain sense of betrayal
Like maybe I shouldn't have dropped
Every
Single
Thing
I
Felt
For you
But I couldn't help it, you know?
I mean, ..............
...
...
...
...
...
...

You're just such a fucking douche bag

I just got this.

2007-09-19T02:05:01Z

I really have nothing to say right now, except, I suppose, today has been sort of dead.
A girl got fired from her job because of a criminal record (really, it was something that every single teenager does) and they only paid her seventy-five dollars (in cash??) for working three weeks.
I want to play Diablo II, but I can't call Ian because I just did last night, and I am sure that people have things in their lives that are far more important than playing fucking online video games with me.
I also would enjoy raving about my weekend to John, whose phone seems to be (like it is the majority of the time) off.
I am reading a book about geek love at a genius-convention.
I realized in physics today that really, all I really want to fucking do is write.
I want to be inspired and write.
I want to NOT GO TO SCHOOL, and be inspired, and have fun, and possibly do an array of designer drugs, and write.
I really hate school.
I suck at it, it brings me down, I do not have good grades right now, and I really hate having to drag myself out of bed at such an horrifically early time as seven o'clock in the morning (each and every morning) only to be forced to attend classes that have not and really will not have any lasting effect after I leave that horrible place.
I JUST WANT TO READ AND WRITE AND BE WITH THE PEOPLE I LOVE (my family NOT included) ALL DAY EVERY DAY.
On a lighter note, I really love my job.
On a not-so-light note, I am really quite troubled (although, being that it really is not all that big of a deal, I shouldn't be) about my relationship status.
Or lack thereof.
Oh, well.
All's well that ends well, I suppose.
I guess I really didn't not have much to say.