Entry 053

Picture (c) Google under the search "Rainicorn"

My Pride

My pride is my joy and my life,

And I care about nothing more than I care about my own personal pride.

I understand how obnoxious that may be,

But I don't care.

I'm going to be as prideful as I so damn please.

I'm going to gloat

When something good happens to me;

If you can't deal with it,

Then leave me alone.

I'm a prideful person.

And if you're so selfish

And rude that you would

Take my pride away from me,

Then God forbid I don't get you back.

"My Pride," (c) Rebecca Grapentine, April 29th, 2011

Entry 052

Picture (c) Google

This Side of Myself

We say that the one who knows the most about us

Is ourselves;

That we know everything about ourselves.

But we don't.

We discover things about us that we never knew before.

Whether it's completely new or

The realization of something old,

It doesn't matter.

We didn't know about it before,

And we're still discovering ourselves.

I never cared about having a family.

I'm content with where I am,

And have decided to be peacefully alone

Or with my friends in the future,

But never with a family.

I still am that way.

I never wanted love,

I don't want to get married or have kids.

People think I'm crazy,

But that's because that's there dream.

Don't try to force your dreams upon me.

I'm not strange; it's just what I want.

I think life would be more serene without them.

More calm, and that's all that I want.

Calm.

I knew I'd never have

A motherly side because of this.

I don't have that kind of weird mental connection;

I don't even want children.

But this is where I discover this side of myself.

When I see them in an accident,

Their blood all over the streets,

Yet they're alive and screaming

Innocent phrases; "It hurts!"

I hear them cry. They scream,

I start to panic.

I hate the sound of their screaming.

"It hurts!" A long terrified scream follows

And I watch the screen in horror.

My throat closes up

And I want to cry.

I want to help them.

They aren't just a character,

They were real people,

And I know this film is supposed to be a lesson,

It's not supposed to scare me,

But it does. It scars me.

I can't stand a child getting hurt.

I don't want kids,

Yet I care so much about them...

It's kind of strange.

Maybe I am strange after all.

"This Side of Myself," (c) Rebecca Grapentine, April 28th, 2011

Entry 051

"Rainbow Dragon," (c) Rebecca Grapentine

Stress

I... don't know.

I don't know.

I'm taking the test,

Looking at the questions,

Glancing over the answers.

I don't know.

I don't know how to solve these.

I was never taught how.

I know how to do maybe 10 of the 60.

I know I've failed before it's over.

A negative attitude won't affect my score.

I can't change what I can and can't do.

It's stressful,

Dealing with this.

I don't know what I want to do for a career,

But it doesn't matter now.

I've done so horribly that no college would want me anyways.

I can't deal with this.

I just want to curl up in a corner and hide and cry,

But even if I did,

No good would come of it.

Why do they do this to us?

"Stress," (c) Rebecca Grapentine, April 27th, 2011

Entry 050

Picture (c) Google under the search "Abstract"

The Change

I remember the days when we were the same.

We were together all the time.

Nothing could separate us, no matter what.

We were best friends,

With no doubts in our minds

That we would would die for each other

Without a second thought.

Those were the days.

Every day, we were together.

God only knows what redundant things we did.

I would remember, but my memory is bad thanks to you.

You might remember, but you've moved on.

I miss the days when we were together.

You started to drift away.

I tried to hold on the the old you,

But you slipped through my fingers.

You moved on,

You changed,

You became a whole different person.

I don't know you anymore.

I only know the old you.

The old you, who I'm still holding on to.

I'm latched onto a ghost.

The ghost of someone from a memory,

Someone who no longer exists.

You changed.

You pretended to be sad at first,

That you had to go.

And then you lied to me,

While I was trying to keep us together.

And I believed you.

What I damn fool I was to believe you.

Even now, years later,

When we have almost nothing to do with each other anymore,

I want to believe you.

I want to hold on to the old you.

I don't want to admit that you've changed,

And I hate change;

You made me hate change.

You walked into my life.

You befriended me.

You got me to put all my trust in you.

To believe in you.

Then you left.

You stopped talking to me, except for the occasional hello.

You turned me into who I am now.

I am a hater of change,

I am the rejecter of the new.

I am the broken,

I am the one afraid to trust,

I am the one afraid to be hurt again,

I am the one who hates you

Because of everything you've done to me,

Every tear I cried,

Every breakdown I went through

Was for you,

Because I missed our friendship.

I missed the days where we hung out and were together,

And you forgot about me,

You replaced me,

And there's nothing more fucking AWFUL than being replaced!

I don't know anymore.

I don't want to open myself up anymore.

It's painful.

You left me broken,

And now you torture me.

Every day,

I see your face somewhere,

Smiling,

Laughing,

Loving,

Hugging,

Being yourself,

Your new self,

And I am totally forgotten by you.

I hate you.

I hate you,

I can't forget about you.

I can't deal with your torture.

I can't handle change,

Or trust,

Nor can I forget what you did to me.

It's a wound that will NEVER heal.

I hope you find out.

I can't tell you, I don't know why.

But I hope you realize how I really feel.

And I hope it fucking hurts.

"The Change," (c) Rebecca Grapentine, April 26th, 2011

Entry 049

A Single Orange, (c) Rebecca Grapentine

To Be Deaf

I am one of the few

Who would rather be blind than deaf.

Sight is nice;

I would rather keep it;

But if it came down to it,

I would rather keep my hearing.

Sight is great,

But I've seen the world.

There's always just memories.

But music is endless.

New music and old music,

They come all the time.

Music is more important to me

Than seeing with my own eyes.

Being deaf would be horrible.

To scream and hear nothing is terrible,

To cry and make no sound,

It's something I find worse than

Not being able to see.

I would much rather hear than see.

Take my sight,

Let me keep my ears;

My music is mine to cherish.

"To be Deaf," (c) Rebecca Grapentine, April 25th, 2011

Entry 048

Picture (c) Google

My Own

We as people make decisions.

Whether they are good or bad is also decided by us.

Every one of us has decisions they have made.

Mine today may be unwise.

I should have done something earlier,

But it's not too big a deal.

Don't let things stress you out.

It will be fine in the end.

I always get things done before they're due;

This time is no different.

Perhaps next time,

I'll make my own decision

To get it done earlier

And put my own mind to rest.

"My Own," (c) Rebecca Grapentine, April 24th, 2011

Entry 047

Picture (c) Google

What is Wasted

Time is the one thing we can never control.

We may try, but we will never make it submit.

Time is its own; it has no master,

Although time applies itself to everything.

Time has mastered us.

When we waste time,

Time mocks us.

Time controls us.

Time does not care what we do with it,

For it controls us.

And when it so pleases,

Time will withdraw itself away,

And leave us stranded, dead.

It is our faults if we waste our time.

Time will not be affected.

"What is Wasted," (c) Rebecca Grapentine, April 23rd, 2011

Entry 046

Picture (c) Google under the search "Berlin"

Shut-In

Close-walled, small rooms

With no windows,

I am locked inside the dark.

But then bright screens flash,

I become engulfed in it.

A knock at the door,

A calling to come out.

They want me to come out.

They don't want me to stay shut in.

But I want to stay shut in.

It's what I want.

"Shut-In," (c) Rebecca Grapentine, April 22nd, 2011

Entry 045

Picture (c) Damnlol.com

^So true.

Controversial

Is it wrong?

Is what I feel wrong?

Is how I think wrong?

I know it's wrong,

It's got to be wrong.

But it's harmless,

And of course it's hopeless.

It's helpless.

But I don't care

If the topic is controversial.

I'll think the way I do,

And I'll feel the way I feel.

And everyone else can get over it.

That's my decision.

"Controversial," (c) Rebecca Grapentine, April 21st, 2011

Entry 044

Picture (c) Damnlol.com

Awful

It hurts.

Why the hell should we have to bear this pain.

This really, really sucks.

One minute I'm alert and the next I'm falling asleep in class.

One minute I'm fine and the next I'm attacked with cramps.

You know what?

I don't have to deal with this crap.

I'll cry myself a river,

Build myself a bridge

And jump off of it.

"Awful," (c) Rebecca Grapentine, April 20th, 2011

Entry 043

Picture (c) Damnlol.com

Comfort Zone

Driving along, 

I'm okay.

I can do this.

Turn? 

Turn here?

But that leads to...

I can't go on...

I can't go as fast as...

Crap.

I didn't want to come here.

I'm not ready for this part yet.

Talk about yanking me out of my comfort zone.

"Comfort Zone," (c) Rebecca Grapentine, April 19th, 2011

Entry 042

Picture (c) Damnlol.com

In the Spirit

Let yourself fade away.

Become your creation.

You'd be a hypocrite if you told their story

Without actually understanding them.

You are not you.

You are the creation.

If they die, you die too.

You have to go through that,

Even though you're the one that killed them

You are always the one that's killed them.

"In the Spirit," (c) Rebecca Grapentine, April 18th, 2011

Entry 041

Picture (c) Google

Anticipation of the Writer

A spark of intelligence lights up the night.

Closed doors swing open at the possibilities.

The retired writer prepares to pick up their pen,

Anxiously awaiting the glorious moment.

When they thought their worst work was done at night,

They were wronged,

As it came to them deep in the darkness,

Swaying in their mind,

Forcing them to pick up the pen and write it down.

I said I'd never write,

Not like this.

I told myself I couldn't do it,

It wasn't possible,

I had to give up then before I got my hopes up

Just to lose them again.

The writer, unable to contain their excitement any longer,

Grabs the pen and writes,

Writes, writes, writes,

Never stops,

The anticipation is over,

Now there's just not enough time.

Why did the writer ever stop writing?

I was a fool to ever think

I could live without this;

Never again.

Never again will I force myself away

From my passion;

I may not be able to turn it into anything other than that,

But I don't care.

Never again will the writer put down their pen.

"Anticipation of the Writer," (c) Rebecca Grapentine, April 17th, 2011

Entry 040

Picture (c) Google

Content

A good day,

A great day.

Nothing goes wrong

That can't be fixed;

Everything is right

In the end.

Either way,

I'd be content.

"Content," (c) Rebecca Grapentine, April 16th, 2011

Entry 039

Picture (c) Damnlol.com

Relief

The end of the day is here.

No more work to do,

I can finally relax.

I'm looking forward to my future plans

And I'm in an overall good mood.

Oh, I hope I never have to go back.

"Relief," (c) Rebecca Grapentine, April 15th, 2011

Entry 038

Picture found on Google

Unknown

Frustration is the emotion of the day.

I want to cry and let it all out,

I want to vent, 

And even though I know someone who would listen,

I can't vent successfully.

Grow up.

That's what you're supposed to do.

Everyone grows up one day.

They go to college,

Get a job, a career.

These are things I will do.

I don't know where to go, or what to do just yet;

It's unknown. I'm undecided.

It's not a crime to be undecided.

I'm under so much pressure.

They're slamming down hard on me to

Choose already, but I don't know,

I don't know,

I don't know,

I don't know,

Why can't everyone just leave me alone!?

Tears flow into my eyes.

I don't know. I just don't.

I don't know if I ever will know.

Apparently, that's a crime.

Do what you like, they say.

Whatever you like, make it your career.

I don't like anything.

I like to sleep. Eat. Watch TV. Simple things,

Mindless things

That can't be turned into careers.

I should know what I like, they say.

I should get my act together,

I need to figure it out,

I need to tell them so I can plan my future,

But I don't know.

I don't know, stop pressuring me already,

I don't know,

I just don't know,

GOD DAMNIT I DON'T KNOW.

LEAVE ME ALONE.

"Unknown," (c) Rebecca Grapentine, April 14th, 2011