I hate the drama queens in sports, the girls who cry because they get hit, "GET BACK UP YOU SISSY" I want to yell, but never do... the girls who have to walk off and not play because they jammed a finger, stubbed a toe, you know the injuries that really don't matter

play through the pain thats my motto and 9 times out of 10 thats what I'm doing ... and you have no idea

so why tonight was it different? Why did I have to sit down for a lil while, why did I start to cry, and say ow ow ow... yes it hurt, it actually still does its sore and tomorrow it will be ok, just maybe a little tender, but back to why...

because when I fell I was scared, when I hurt my knee it barely hurt at all, my first thought when I landed on my ankle was 'I cannot lose this season', I will not lose this season, then I heard M yell..."is it her knee?" no thank goodness.. just my ankle, but I was scared because I know now how injuries can happen, how they can not even hurt, how you can stumble and just break, its not always pain, its not always diving head first, I know now how much I have to lose, how much I can and did lose, how much I never want to feel that way again...

so I'm sorry for the drama, but the fear of being injured again is always in the back of my mind, the memory of being hurt is still in my heart, and the pain it has caused will always be in my knee...

I just don't think I could go through that again

a piece of the puzzle is missing...

When you put together the puzzle, I mean the HUGE puzzle that took you weeks to do, when you put it all together and realize a piece is missing... isn't that the worst? All of your hard work, time, and now you can't even enjoy it because without that piece the picture just isn't complete. It isn't the one piece that holds the importance, if it were there you would never even think about it, you would simply put it in place with all the rest but, what stands out if the destruction that one missing piece can do, the destruction it can do to the entire puzzle.

a piece of the puzzle is missing...

its not a number thing...10, 8, 12, 14, 16...188, 194, 120, 170, 150, 133... that doesn't matter

its not an image thing, I mean come on I wear sweats everyday

its not a fad

its not a teenage girl thing

its a me thing, this is something I need to do for myself, me and only me. so forget the numbers, forget the look, the fad, the age, remember me...I need this for me

have you ever wanted to write down your thoughts, just write them and send them out into the world? maybe I'd write about love, or friendship, or life... but I like to think that someday I'll write it all down, on a random scrap piece of paper, nothing exciting, nothing flashy just my thoughts...I'd write them down and seal them in a glass bottle, I'd throw the bottle out into the ocean, it wouldn't be littering because you can't litter with thoughts, and I would hope that someday somehow my thoughts would find someone, maybe they'd even mean something to someone.... so, do me a favor, if you ever see a bottle in the ocean, pick it up, open it and read the note inside, if you're lucky you might get to read someone's thoughts, you my just read the words of my heart....

I guess its kind of like my old house... my only real home

its a place I used to feel comfortable and right in, it fit me, and I was happy there. It was mine and it was something no one could take away from me... home, or so I thought.

and now its something far too sad to explain, its not mine, its out of reach, dark, its a memory, one that slowly is slipping away....




but I'm doing everything that I can to hang on

"why?"


fuck you


who knew 3 little letters could ever hurt so much?

You'd have to catch her in the right mood, ask the exact right questions, hug her when she started to cry, and tell her everything will be okay. . . .

But chances are you won't catch her in the right mood, you probably couldn't ask the exact right question(s), you'd have no idea what to say, especially to her sarcastic remarks and simple answers, you would hug her when she'd cry, but she'd do her best not to cry and MOST of the time she would succeed in NOT crying b/c she hates to cry in front of you, and you could tell her everything will be okay, but would she believe you?
cause nothing's going right and everything's a mess and no one likes to be alone

it'd been a while, but tonight she couldn't fight them off . . . tonight she felt defeated, alone, scared but mostly just sad . . . after all this time, after all this shit, why couldn't something start to go right? . . . sometimes she wondered if it was 'all in her head' but tonight she saw it in his face too, not just her own. That was when she knew she wouldn't be able to fight them off. So, when she stepped out into the cold and the darkness had swallowed her, hiding her from the world, she didn't even bother to fight them . . . she let them come, let them ruin her mascara, let them run down her cheeks, she didn't wipe them away or try to pretend she was okay, she just sat and let them come, tasting the salt on her lips . . . realizing she couldn't fight them off, not tonight . . . not any more