Numb.

"I've become so numb. I can't feel you there."


     Being totally honest here. I suppose I need to re-think my friends list. I'm not really sure what I expect of other people, of what my future will be. When I think of a friend, I think of someone always there. Loyal, like our ever-present, if constantly annoying, hufflepuff. Why can't everyone be a hufflepuff? There, like, the perfect companion. Loyalty. Is that so hard to come by these days?
      I try so hard to be the person people can go to when they need advice or caring or prayer, and I hate to say it, but what do I get in return? Boring summer days, each one like the last, spent watching TV or writing stupid posts, or wandering around outside until I get sunburned. I talk to people, talk about all the things we can do this summer, and yet none of it ever happens. I know I won't be going to Wet-N-Wild with that person, or having a movie marathon with another, and at this point, I don't even know if I'll be able to celebrate his birthday with him. 
   I'm tired of being 'that person', only talked to when someone is sad or bored. I'm tired of being ignored when I really want to talk about something but don't know how to bring it up, afraid of losing a friend or something. 
     At first, I thought the title of this post was just random, but it isn't. I really do feel numb. I realized that about ten minutes ago, when I cut myself for the first time. Now I'm crying, not really from the pain, but cos there is none. I don't want to waste my time anymore, not with people who only want me when they need me. 
Honestly, I don't even think anyone is going to read this, or if they do, even get what I'm talking about or feel what I'm feeling. I don't expect anyone to pity me. I'm only writing this because it's better than thinking about it over and over. And keeping it locked in my head or my computer does nothing. It's only when I publish it that it really makes me feel better. 
    I'm just sickened by everything around me, including myself, and it pains me to know that there's nothing I can do about it. It makes me wonder how much a difference a little hufflepuff can really make. 
~Liz

Far From Farewell...

Hey, y'all. Just a quick little post here. Not that it really matters, but I'll be at camp for the next week, starting tomorrow, so I won't be posting anything. Hopefully I can think of some new stories to post when I get back. Anyway, my boredom has increased from Photoshop to coloring (yes, it's that bad). But I'm pretty proud of the one I've been working on. I haven't finished yet, cos I'm really nervous about their eyes. I may put it on here when I finish. But here's one that I worked on for a while, and I like it a lot.
Before:

After I got my hands on it:

As you can see, this is what I've been doing for the past week. I need serious help. >.>

Love you guys, 

and see ya next week

maybe

RANDOM PHOTOSHOP

This is what happens when you leave me alone with my laptop.
Be warned.
Probably more to come, cos I'm really bored.

shadowing SUNS;

"Who would dare to love again,

if all cuts and every burn should awaken

and open wide the wounds again."

           There were two of them, one boy the perfect replica of the other. Both had the same pitch black hair and striking green eyes, the same narrow, beautiful features. And both were fawned over by their father. Just before he died, he split the kingdom in two, and allowed each boy to rule over his own half. Excited, the boys rode off in their own direction, both eager to scout what their father had given them. 

     The eldest brother was thrilled at his findings. He gained rolling hills and streams, and prosperous villages filled with fascinating creatures. The people of his kingdom accepted him with open arms, and built him a tall castle of pale white crystal. The brother was glad to rule over them.

    The younger brother, on the other hand, rode until it grew dark, but he still remained in the thick wood that occupied his half of the kingdom. When it finally opened, the brother saw dark, soaring mountains, a black ocean, and various plantations harvested by strange beings. They called themselves elves, fairies, demons, and they, too, welcomed him happily. They taught the boy, who had grown up in the safety of his father's castle, how to harvest crops and climb trees. They built him a huge castle of black stone, set into the side of the mountain. Over time, they taught him their tricks, how they would often deceive those who dwelled in his brother's neighboring kingdom by stealing crops and material, like the glowing crystal they cherished so much. The boy was fascinated and hung on their every word. 

         There passed some time that neither brother spoke to the other, for they were too busy ruling   their new kingdoms, and trouble spread in areas between the two lands. The dwellers of the first  kingdom told the eldest brother that those in the neighboring kingdom had stolen a great supply of  their precious crystal with no intention of trading or buying for it. This, of course, was the truth,   and he believed them. The younger brother knew of the trouble as well, for it was his plan to steal the crystal in the first place. Seeing that it would help his own kingdom, he felt so sympathy for the loss his brother's land suffered. 

       Tension laced between the kingdoms, and, fearing unbalance, the eldest brother requested a meeting with the younger. Out of sheer curiosity of what would unfold, the younger agreed.

~~~~~~~~~~^~~~~~~~~~^~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~^~~~~~~~~~^~~~~~~~~~~

   He was early.

     He sat on his horse on the stretch of dirt road that ran between his kingdom and his brother's. On his right, a long plain was splayed under the dark night sky, and tall stalks of corn reached up towards the stars. On his left, a barrier of trees rose and thickened like a wall that ran for miles and miles, and  their branches reached further than the corn stalks, but still could not catch the sky. The brother was not looking right or left; he was staring straight, right up the dirt road toward the enormous castle that sat there. It wasn't long deserted, yet cobwebs gathered in the corners of the dark windows. Vines crept along the side wall in thick tangles. He had lived there not four years ago, but the sight gave the boy chills. 

         "Brother."

     The boy turned his head to see a figure on a horse approaching. His older brother was clothed in fine clothes of white, gold and green. On his head he wore a golden crown not unlike the one their father used to boast. 

         The younger brother nodded in response and greeting to his elder. "Brother."

    He had hoped to see something. After not meeting for years, he had expected his older brother to be glad to see him, but he couldn't spot even a ghost of a smile. Then he cursed himself silently for being disappointed. He guided his horse over to the wall of trees.

     "Cyprian-" his older brother started, as if he feared the younger planned to leave. But      Cyprian only slid down from his horse and tied the reigns to one of the lower branches. He turned back to his brother and straightened his cloak, which hung like a black blanket around his body. "You wanted to discuss something?"

       Cyprian crossed his arms as he waited for his brother to respond. The older boy climbed down from his saddle, but held the reigns in his hand. The horse made no move to leave her master's side. 

      "Yes," he answered, "I'd like to address the thefts occurring in my kingdom, the same thefts that I'm told are caused by your villagers."

    Cyprian thought of how to respond to this. "Are your people suffering from these thefts?"

   "Are you saying your villagers aren't responsible?"

   "I'm not saying that at all," the younger brother smiled slightly, "simply that if they do not suffer, the crime isn't too great."

       "You're wrong," the older boy said. 

Cyprian's smile faded. His brother was serious, he knew, and couldn't know that it was he behind the attacks. 

      "What do you want me to do, Stephen? Hold a hanging?" He was joking, of course, for he would do no such thing. He was appalled when the older boy replied,

          "Perhaps it would be best."

   Cyprian met his brother's hard gaze. "Stephen, what a thing to say! I've never known you to so easily condemn a man."

      Stephen remained cool. "As I have never known you to host a den of demons. But I'm afraid we are both aware of new knowledge."

     Cyprian scowled. "Well, perhaps my people would not have to steal if yours would not deny our trades."

     "They deny trades because they don't care to barter with trickster fairies. There is no right to the thieving."

    "My people need to survive! Why else do you think father gave me the land? I'm to ensure their safety and health."

    Stephen looked over to the castle and mumbled, "I wish he'd never given it to you in the first place."

      Cyprian blanched. How could his brother be so selfish? "Why do you say that?"

   Stephen shot his brother a dark look. "Don't you see what's become of you? Father most likely left them to you so you could change them and make them better, but instead you became as bad as they are!"

     Cyprian was shocked at his brother's harsh words, and anger boiled inside of him. "So, do you think your land would be better off without mine?"

     Stephen said nothing, but he didn't need to. Cyprian knew the truth. Scowling, he pulled himself onto his horse and galloped into the trees, his brother left silent and seething behind him. Cyprian rode back to the villages and spoke with his people. He watched them chatter amongst themselves, then, with grand smiles, the fairies and demons taught Cyprian how to make weapons. 

((This is really just something random I came up with to pass the time. I'm not even going to bother reading over it, but yeah. Hope you enjoy.))

WE ArE tHe ReCkLeSs

"And if you're still breathing, you're the lucky ones.

'Cause most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs.

Setting fire to our insides just for fun."

I don't remember a lot of the specifics of how this happened to us. A few things I remember, I guess, but not enough to decipher the cause or even the reason for it. There was nothing different about this day. Absolutely nothing. And I remember just how it started.

I wake early, just as my mother shoves aside the thick curtains and lets in the sunlight, insanely bright despite the thick glass.

"Rise and shine," she says, not exactly the voice of joy. When I don't move, she tugs at my covers, but I hold tightly to them, keeping them up to my neck. 

"Raiden," she scolds, then sighs, "Well, at least I know you're alive. Breakfast will be ready soon. You have to be dressed in time for the line."

I mumble something into my pillow. I wait for the door to close, then I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling. After approximately three seconds, the dull cream color grows boring, and I decide getting ready for school may be more enjoyable.

Maybe.

I shrug into dark jeans and slide a violet tank over my head. Deciding that bangles are evil, I strip a thick leather band to each of my wrists. I pull a hairbrush through my through my dark waves of hair until they are at least a little bit bearable before wrapping a strip of leather around the lot. 
"Ray!"
I slide on dark brown boots and sling my shoulder bag across my back. "Coming!"
I bolt out of my bedroom and would've passed right by the kitchen if my mother hadn't yelled, "BREAKFAST FIRST!"
I shove a piece of toast into my mouth and try to ignore the lack of butter. My mother frowns, then goes to the counter and fixes a paper bag for my lunch. "You need to eat more," she states. 
"I eat enough."
She shoves the bag in one of my hands and hands me two pieces of bacon. "Eat."
"I have to go. The lines gonna start anytime now."
I wrap the bacon in a paper towel and slip it into the outside pocket of my shoulder bag. 
Then I grab one of the black cloaks hanging on the wall by the door. They're all the same, and simple, and they cover us from the head to the knee. I pull the hood down so that it covers my forehead, but my mother instantly pushes it aside to kiss my temple. "Have a good day at school."
"I will." 
She smiles at me, then turns, glaring at the empty hallway. "CYRUS! IT'S TIME FOR LINE."
My younger brother instantly emerges from his bedroom and into the kitchen. He grabs breakfast and a paper bag from the counter, then joins me by the door, munching on a strip of bacon as he shrugs his cloak over a black t-shirt and blue jeans. My mother stands watch, hands on her hips. When he's finished the bacon, Cyrus leans in and kisses my mother on the cheek. 
"See ya after school, Ma. Come on, Ray!"
And like that he's out the door, me at his heels. We keep our hoods over our faces as we walk under the long canopy that stretches over the alleys between houses. Cyrus finishes his breakfast and starts to dig into his lunch bag for more food.
"You'll get fat if you eat so much, Cy."
He doesn't look up from his search. "No, I eat food that's healthy for me. If you don't eat, you'll never grow."
I scowl at him. I'm older than him by more than a year, and already he's a foot taller than me. Before I can retaliate, he nudges me and nods to a group of people crowded under one of the larger canopies. "That's your class. You'd better get going."
Before I turn to go, I reach up and pull his hood further over his head. "Be safe," I tell him.
"You too."
I jog over to join my class. My teacher, a thin woman, and looking even thinner in her own cloak, hands me a strip of cloth like the ones we get every morning and afternoon. 
"Form a line, everyone!" She shouts to the class, "Stay behind the person in front of you at all times, and don't remove your blindfold!"
I reach up and tie the fabric over my eyes. I've been doing this for my whole life, ever since I left the neighborhood, and I remember, when I was small, what my mother said when I asked her about them.
"We wear them because the sun is bright, blindingly bright, and we aren't able to look at it, so we cover our eyes."
We cover our eyes. As I walk at a steady pace in line, I see only darkness, feel only a dull heat on my arms and back, but I know there's light surrounding us. 

(I didn't even edit this or read over it, so it's whatever.)
~Squiggs

Come Daydream With Me

         Somewhere far away, in a musky, abandoned old house, a boy plays the piano. The sound coming from the instrument is one you wouldn't expect. The keys have browned. The wood is chipped. The paint is peeling at the corners. But the strings are straight and firm, and their vibrations carry a soft, rich sound as the boy plays. He sits on an old piano bench, and inside the bench lay pile upon pile of forgotten music sheets that have long forgotten young age. They are curled at the edges, as if the corners are trying to reach up, trying to be seen. The boy would see, but he is not playing one of their songs. There's a sheet of music on the podium before him, an unlabeled, author-less piece of work. He plays, gently pressing down on the pedal with his foot, and as he does, the sole of his white converse rub against the rotting wooden floor just under the brass pedal.
           He's watched, but he doesn't notice. He sways in time with the tune, and his eyes drift   peacefully between open and closed. As calloused hands run along pale keys, she watches from the   corner. Thick vines hang above her, creating a shadow over her. It's leaves used to tickle her cheeks, but now she barely notices. She watches the boy with curiosity. She studies him. He looks from his shoes to her own bare feet, pale against the rough wood. She mimics him as he sways, tilting side by side, making her dark hair bounce from shoulder to shoulder. She takes a step towards him, watches him.
     "Hello?"
  He does not stop playing. His fingers don't falter on the keys.
 The girl walks forward, stopping a little ways from him, and repeats, "Hello? Who are you?"
The boy stalls, only slightly, letting his fingers hang over the keys for a split second while he listens.
        Then fingertips and piano keys become one again. The girl, not hearing the music, frowns and draws closer until she's right behind him.
       "Won't you answer me?"
    Leaves fall from a sizable tree branch protruding from the roof above. They land on the ground beside the piano bench and at the girl's feet. The crinkled, dry leaves make a rough sound as they hit the wood.
     And yet the boy plays still.
  The girl chokes back a sob and falls forward, wrapping her arms around the boy's shoulders and resting her head on the back of his neck. "Can't you hear me?"
    The song slows and becomes quiet as the boy begins to play two notes, back and forth, with his left hand. With his right, he tentatively reaches to his shoulder and touches the girl's arm.
     "You're here, aren't you?" He asks, smiling.
       The girl, shocked, draws away from him slowly. The boy doesn't turn around, but puts his other hand to the piano and picks up the pace again. The girl watches for a moment, then smiles, too. She looks at the sheet of music on the podium. Of course, she recognizes it. She'd seen it many times before. She reaches over the boys shoulder and touches the sheet gently. The old, wrinkled paper folds inward slightly at her touch, then resumes it's position. The title and author have faded, but the girl knows the name of the song. After all, it was written for her.
     It's Acacia's song.
  Smiling, the girl wraps her arms back around the boy as he plays. The boy shares the smile with her, but it's a sad smile, for he knows this ghostly presence beside him will disappear when the song ends.

Two More Hours...

Hey.
So, I'm not quite sure how this post will turn out. I'm just kinda....yeh.
HALLO! I'm Liz and I'm going to die today!
Well, most likely. Pops concert is in two hours, and...I don't think it's gonna go too well. We have a bunch of songs and didn't have a lot of time to practice. So I don't think it's going to be as good as Mr. Green thinks it's gonna be. He'll most likely kill us.
But, at least we have like FIVE FREAKING HOURS to practice. Then he plans for the concert itself to be like...two to three hours I think?
Bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeegh.
Last night was pretty good. I got to go see Iron Man 3 with Dawson, Nathan, and a bunch of other friends. That was fun. I met a young British gentleman who was...interesting.
Yeh. And I'm kinda depressed, because I actually had the guts to do something and it...didn't happen the way I wanted it to.
I mentioned in another post that my choir is going to perform On My Own from Les Mis, and the first line and the "i love him" part at the end were made into solos, and auditions for that solo were Wednesday. There were, like, seven girls up there already. Page was one of them. At first, I wasn't going to go up. Then, at the last second, I went up.
We had to sing it by ourselves, alone, in front of THE WHOLE FREAKING CHOIR. I was terrified. There were I think four, maybe five girls before me, and the majority of them were so nervous that it they didn't sound as good as they usually do. Page was next to me. She went, then I went.
I just did my best. I kinda zoned out while doing so, and I know I was blushing. I heard whispers around me and from the choir, and I thought it was because I sounded bad. I felt like crying. But I finished and so did the other girls, and I went back to my seat.
Where a bunch of girls were grinning at me.
They said I sounded great!! I'm not even kidding, they were really surprised that I sounded like that! Mr. Green and his assistant were trying to figure out who would get the solo, and it wasn't me. We sang the song again with the girl who did get it, and afterwards, the girls in my section were like "That should have been you, you should have gotten the solo."
I was ecstatic. I never really felt like I fit in there, and now they were cheering me on!
Then Kira came over from her section and just stood there looking at me. I asked her what it was, and she said,
"Like, all the altos think Mr. Green should have given you the solo."
I WAS SPAZZING I WAS SO HAPPY PEOPLE LIKE ME AGHHHHHHH.
But yeh. A 9th grader got it. My mom seemed mad about that. Personally, I think the girl who got it uses too much vibrato, but it's Mr. Green's choice not mine.
And now for GIFs, because GATSBY

Yes Gatsby was brilliant as frick. But

  

 CAN

 WE

 TALK

 ABOUT

 THIS

 MAN

I used to like Captain America.

But then.

Iron Man.

Probably the number one reason I loved Iron Man 3 is that when people talk about Iron Man, they just talk about him being a cheater or something because he only is awesome in his suit, but the third movie was him in the suit and being awesome out of the suit, and I really liked that.

Cuz he's great.

Kay.

I should get ready or something.

Liz out.

Iron Man.

<3