Now, I am not usually one that brings the intimate details of my life onto Myspace, but I have to fucking vent. I've spent the last week or so milling about, because I felt like I had made a great mistake. This mistake was breaking up with my pregnant girlfriend. I thought that breaking up would allow us some time to cool our heads, and possibly be less angry with each other. WAIT! Let me back up a bit.. When we first got together, I was "a lot more attentive and caring." I supposedly only did it to get her. Then it turned to me being attentive because my computer was around. As my being a computer nerd, and liking to waste hours on here and playing games. As my being a bit anti-social. As my preferring only to be in the prescense of others, and not exactly there. I could've sworn I told her this. But I didn't, obviously. We argued. She did it for attention, she claims. She called me names, again for attention. She hit me. A lot. Again, for attention. I hate being picked with, for usually no apparent reason. I hide away. I go play video games, listen to music, and generally ignore the world around me. This made things worse. She didn't realize that I hate being targeted. I guess I didn't realize that she was needy. (WTF???) It reached a boiling point. She's 6 months pregnant. I am doing my usual. Playing games. She comes in. Her FUCKING MOM WHO ALWAYS STARTS SHIT, tells her that I was in the living room and jumped up when she came out of her room. Well, usually, when you hear tripping and loud swearing, you jump up to see what's happening. But this was me trying to mask something that I was doing. I am usually the wrong one. Even when I am completely oblivious to what's happening. She comes in to "confront" me. We argue again. She starts screaming. I stand up. We get in each others faces. She balls up her fist. First instinct. I push her down. Yes, I know, I am a coward. Pushing a defenseless 5 month pregnant female down. Even though she hit me several times before, and claimed that she couldn't possibly hurt me. Even though I wasn't trying to knock her down. Oh well. I was shocked with myself. Scared, maybe even disgusted. My dad beat my mom, most of my childhood. But that's another story. I just don't like my dad very much. I left. I went back to my apartment. I sat. I stood. I paced. I cried... Yes, I did. I had did something I swore that I'd never do. I apologized. We argued again. I left again. I left all of my belongings at her place. Her moms? Whatever. They left, and I had to work that night. I had nothing to wear. I went to CVS and got a Colts Championship shirt (FUCK THE COLTS!), and wore that to work. The next morning, I call there, and her mom, doing the usual, makes me feel like a fucking super villain. I just wanted my shit back. And it took fucking forever for that to happen. A week goes by, and I go to the ultrasound. It's a boy. Fucking yay. We decide to try it again. I go to see my mom for mothers day. She informs me that Tiffany called her and told her that I was beating her and verbally abusing her (wtf?). So, naturally, I get super pissed. I even tell her I hate her. We break it off again. At this point, I know I love her. I also know that we need a LITTLE more time away from each other. So, that's what I do. Time. One of our greatest possessions. Can never have too much time. Ahh, I decide a few weeks later that I need to tell her that I am lost without her. That I'd lose myself, if I lost her. Guess what? SHE FUCKING FOUND SOMEONE ELSE? How in the fuckingfairyfuckfartfruit sauce does that happen? She doesn't attempt to talk to me in those weeks, so she finds some random jackass loser that hangs out with her ex druggie friends? Yeah, fuck this. I poured my heart out to her. I told her my real feelings. I sat back at work and pondered my situation. I slowly went from being heartbroken to insanely pissed. Why did I do that to myself? I wanted to mend things. I was willing to drop everything for her. I would've morphed into a completely different person. But, really.... Who wants someone who can find another man in 3 weeks?

It had been an impossibly hard night. I even began to have doubts about me making it out alive. Oddly enough, I carried on. My comrades were also fatigued and sickly. We spent 3 months in the jungles. We were fighting an uphill battle. Starvation, insect and animal bites, natural obstacles...Everything seemed to not want us here. It was as if, the jungle didn't want us there. And we didn't want to be there, either. I watched my subordinates through the night, as I suffered from severe insomnia. I would watch the sky. It was still very hot here. The sky was hazy from the heat and moisture in the air. We knew why we were here, but we didn't know what was waiting for us. The foliage was very thick. We had to fashion ourselves machetes to be able to continue moving through the thick brush that seemed to never end. The most fearful thought I had was the fact that would all would die here. I tried to appear to be strong for the men, but, even they began to take note of my failing health. I had to get them to the rendezvous point, and I had to do it fast. 2 days had passed, and it seemed to us that we were traveling in circles. And just as we began to lose hope, the unthinkable happened...we found our superiors. Everyone was amazed to see us. But why? One of the Lieutenants told me that it had been because we were sent on a suicide mission. Our chance of survival was 0.00001%. Heh, I didn't even think we would have that great of a chance. I spent a few days recovering from the malnutrition I had obviously picked up from spending months in the jungle. I had woke up one morning to hear the Colonel telling everyone to get ready to go back to the states. We were finally going back home! I had left to inform my men of the good news.

BOOOM!

What the hell?!? I thought we defeated them. The alien menance had returned. That means our sabotage mission in the jungle had failed. But the explosives completely eradicated their nests. Reinforcements???? Of course, they must've came from out of hibernation, underground. The explosion must've wakened them... "We have to move!" I yelled. They began to swarm the tiny village we had set up base in. And the tank-like aliens began launching the sizzling beams of fire into our choppers. We were going to be trapped here. I couldn't believe this was happening. Explosions were everywhere. I was surrounded by death and destruction. I saw an alien come up behind the Colonel. His death was swift and fast, as his head had been removed before he knew what hit him. I knew the end was near... when before I knew it, a leaping alien stood before me, poised to attack.. I knew I was dead, but I had to be sure. I looked around, and I saw infinite nothingness. Then I saw her. She approached me, with a smile on her face. "Hold my hand." she beckoned, "and follow me." I did so. And I saw the chaos that I was suddenly rescued from. "You are the savior, and you were rescued because of this." "...who are you?" I asked. "I am another alien being, from another race that was destroyed by the menance that's destroying your people," she began, "and we want their progress throughout the universe to be halted now. We cannot allow them to wipe out another exisistence." I followed her words, exactly. "You're special, we've been watching you. The sickness you're suffering from.." Those words shocked me. She continued, "is something that protects you from the poison they spread, as well as the limited mind-control of theirs." "So, I am puking blood because of something that makes me strong?" "No," she said almost giggling, "that's your body getting used to the new power you're recieving." "You serious?" I asked. "Yes..." she replied. "But, down there, what's going to happen?" I asked, rather concerned. "Don't worry, we've arranged some 'support'." Support? I wonder what she meant. Just then, this new reality began to dissapate. "Wait," I tried to hurriedly ask, "What was the name of your civilization?" She glanced at me, and smiled, "A little place called, Heaven." Then I was back. Just as the alien was preparing to strike, he was shot down by a flurry of vulcan mounted machinegun fire. A Black Hawk! There really was support coming! Tanks mowed trees down, jets flew in, carpet bombing the newly spouted nests. Infantry began to mow our attackers down. I was saved. But that means... Wait...

"You've sinned. You know you have. And now you have to pay." The dark, hulking figure said to the cowering man at his feet. The man didn't know what he did wrong. Or why this man was preparing to end his life. Then he remembered... As the young child ran along the path, he watched him. "Hmm...I wonder if I can get him to come to me..." thought the man. He was a pedophile. And he loved to stalk his prey--8 year old boys. After a while, he would eventually lure them to him, then move on to another state. This boy, in particular, was especially appealing. His life had been full of trauma. Both of his parents were, apparently dead. He heard that the father murdered the mother, then killed himself. And from what he observed, his foster parents could care less about him. This fact proved to be a minor setback, as in the child might be watched out by concerned neighbors. But this didn't matter to the man, as he would eventually get what he wanted. He always did. He watched the boy for months... And one day.. "Hey little man!" "Uh who are you?" "Oh...no one in particular. How old are you?" "I am 8 1/2 years old." "Oh wow, you're so smart." "Thank you, sir. Now I have to get back home, or my auntie will yell at me." "Wait, do you need a ride home?" "Uh..I am not sure, it's a few blocks from here." "Don't worry, I am nice. Hop in my car over here." Foolishly, the little boy did just that. As he headed off, the boy realized that it was taking too long for him to get home. "Uh, sir, where are we going?" he asked, "it never takes my auntie this long to get home." "Shhh, just close your eyes, and we will be there soon." he replied. The little boy complied. He thought it was an early suprise birthday party. Or something big. His auntie was too busy working to actually be an attentive parent, but she did spoil him. So, his hopes were expectedly high. "Ok, open your eyes." As the little boy opened his eyes, he was in an unfamiliar place. "Where am I?" he asked. "You're at your new home now, so lets get ready to go to bed." "No..." replied the little boy. "this isn't home..." The serene, gentle look in the mans face, suddenly turned volatile and angry. "I SAID GET ON THE BED!" he yelled, as he picked the little boy up and threw him onto the bed. Instantly, the boy was overcome by memories and emotions. "This is like the time Daddy wanted me to sleep, and I woke up..and him and Mommy were gone..." This incited something in him, but it was too late. The pervert got his way with the boy. After he had done so, he had forcefully drugged the boy, and let him sleep. He woke up a few hours later, and ran outside, half-naked, and confused. Before he knew it, he was looking at a huge body of water. "WATER!" he instantly thought, and began to panic. Those words, "It's only water, honey..." began to echo through his head again. He began panicking and crying. When suddenly... "OH MY GOD! YOU'RE OK!" It was his aunt. And policemen. A neighborhood woman had saw the man, and recognized his face from a wanted ad on a show, but was too late to stop him from taking the boy. The police searched the immediate area, and finally found him, but the man was long gone.. 20 years later, the sick pervert was still up to his tricks. After managing to escape the cops, he was thinking to himself, "Maybe it's time I retired, heh, I am too old for this now." Just then. CRACK! He fell to the ground, stunned. "Whaa-" he barely managed to stammer out. "You've sinned. You know you have. And now you have to pay." This huge man, standing above him, holding a blunt object in his hand, began to speak. "Do you remember me?" "Uh, no," the man hurriedly replied, "I've...been through many boys in my life." "At a lake. A little boy. No parents. Central Indiana." "...oh no.." he whispered. "Oh, yes." he said. "I've finally managed to track you down," he said now, with a vengance in his voice, "and now, you must pay for your sins!" The pervert began to beg, and attempted to stand up and run, but the blow was too severe, he could barely stand. He began to yell, but the shadowy figure wrapped his massive hand around his throat, and began to squeeze firmly. "Firstly, you don't need THIS, where you're going!" With that, he repeatedly stabbed him in the groin area. You could hear his barely audible screams in the dark alley he had been dragged into... After he finished his "payment" to his god, the figure looked at the mangled corpse of the sick pedophile, and spat on it. "The death of a martyr, I suppose..." And he walked off

Before anyone asks, this blog is not about my life. Just read it. I remember Mommy and Daddy playing with me at the park.. I remember Daddy pushing me on the swing. Oh, how I loved that swing. The sun shining, a gentle breeze...wafting through the air. Carrying the gentle scent of spring with it, I felt safe, and carefree. The sounds of other children playing with their parents only gave me a greater sense of security. I also remember when mommy would take me out for a ride in my stroller. We would see all of the other happy people in the neighborhood. There would be senior-citizens that have been married much longer than I, even my own Mommy and Daddy, have been alive. They would want to play with me, and give me candy. I remember one old lady telling me that I would be a heart breaker one day. Didn't know what that meant at the time, so I shrugged it off. Everything was fine.. But one night. Sleeping in my bedroom, only illuminated by the nightlight in the corner, I heard a loud crash. I was big enough to get out of my bed to see what happened. As I slowly drug my tired body into the living room, I saw Mommy half-laying on the ground. Daddy was standing over her with one of his arms raised.. I slowly and quietly whispered, "...daddy?" When he heard this, he quickly turned to me. My mom glanced at me as well. The harsh, angry look on Daddy's face, suddenly turned soft, and regretful. "Come here, little man!" he finally spoke, as he picked me up. "I can't believe you're already 4!" As he took me back to my room, he laid me back on my toddlers bed, and whispered, "I love you, son...." As he walked away, I could hear him eventually leaving the apartment. When the door shut, I could hear Mommy heading towards my room. "Honey, are you awake?" "..yes mommy," I replied, not clearly knowing why her eyes seemed to be leaking. "Mommy, what's wrong with your eyes?" "Oh," she replied, suprised, "Well, you know whenever you get hurt, and you begin to get water on your face, from your eyes?" "Yeah?" "Well, it's only water, honey." "Oh," I replied, "well, get a face-towel and wipe your face mommy." "I will," she laughed, "now you go back to sleep," she said, as she kissed my forehead. The night always stuck in the back of my head... It had to be at least a year later...

"BANG!"

The loud sound scared me nearly to death. I walked into the living room, like the first time, to see mom in the corner. She had water on her again... But it was red. I don't remember water being red. Something must be wrong! "MOMMY!" I scream. And out of nowhere, Daddy grabs me. "SON!" he lowly growled, "I DON'T WANT YOU SEEING THINGS LIKE THIS!" With that, it became hard to breathe.. "I guess daddy wants me to sleep," I thought, "but it hurts so much..." I was suddenly awakened by another BANG. I was in the closet. I could barely open the door, but I got it. I saw the scariest thing... Daddy had the red water on him too. And Mommy had spilled a lot of it.. I walked over to Daddy, and tried to wake him up, but he didn't get up. Like usual. I guess. "Mommy," I spoke, "Mommy wake up." She didn't move either. Then, I heard a banging at the door. As the door flew open, I saw the same nice policeman that used to give me candy everytime he saw me. The words that immediately came out of his mouth were, "Oh my god..." I was taken away. I kept asking what was wrong with my Mommy and Daddy, but the policemen said they were sick. I began to believe them... Until... "Yeah, we have a homicide/suicide here," the one policeman said, "their poor kid looks like he was choked unconscious, and when I came in, he was covered in their blood." "Yeah," he spoke up again, "the father murdered the mother." I would never forget those words. My granny told me that when someone dies, it is sometimes because God wanted them. But sometimes bad people murder others. But it didn't make sense... My mom said it was only water. And so.. those words echoed over and over in my head... It's only water....it's only water...

I sat back and dreamt about a life distant from mine. This life, wanted for nothing. Woke up to no bills, didn't live paycheck to paycheck. Had everything. Cars, money, houses, glamour. This life...this life was so happy. Believe it or not, this life wanted even more. Fortune and a piece of mind weren't enough. No, this life, this greedy life wanted to be even richer, even more wealthy. What for? No reason. Just to know that its there. Yes, this life was like most humans. It would gorge itself on wealth until it exploded and bled away. Then, I was back in my room. I am dirt poor, I live paycheck to paycheck, I am worried that my lights might be getting turned off, and I want more. Yes, we all always want more. No matter what. Our desire to possess more always overpowers our common sense and tact. Most people are very willing to step on another to attain something out of their grasp. People disgust me. I disgust me.

He used to watch her as she left class. She was so mysterious...yet so plain. He had always wondered why she never stood out before. It was his senior year. Girls were starved for his attention, and yet, he longed for her touch. It never occured to him why...he just wanted to hold her. He wanted to know why she was so distant. His friend would watch the look in his ever-distant eyes. Why was he so into that girl? He could have any girl he wanted at the school--hell he would give an arm and a leg to be as lucky as he is. "Dude, why are you so into that weird bitch?" he would ask his friend. "I-I don't know..." "That doesn't help any...lemme go see if-" "I DON'T NEED ANYONE FUCKING TELLING ME WHO I CAN SEE OR NOT!" "Dude, chill." "No, fuck off." And with that he ended his friendship. He became consumed by his curiousity. He approached her one day. "Hey, my name is-" "I know your name," she cut him off saying, "and I know your type." "My type?" "Yeah, you fuck random girls, then call them whores, ruining their public image, and probably crushing their self-confidence." "Whoa, you have me figured all wrong.." "Aren't you a football player? Don't you hang out with all of the jocks? Are you not popular and 'handsome'?" she said, with great emphasis on handsome. "Wow, why all of the hostility?" "Because men like you are scum," she snapped, "and I'd prefer if you were to leave me alone now." "Men like me?" he thought to himself. "Hey now, don't judge me based on the company I keep," he quickly shot back. "Hell, if I did that, I would call you an anti-social bitch." That pissed her off. But it rang so true. She decided to let him talk, at the least talk to her. If he was sharp enough to easily get under her skin, then maybe, he would be decent conversation. That conversation would prove to be a life changing event... =================================================================================== "Wow" was all she could muster in her mind. She had finally found someone that could talk to her on an intellectual level. Who knew that brainless jocks weren't all that brainless? They began to converse, and before long, they were sharing past experiences and secrets....deep and dark secrets. He shared with her, the story of how he "allegedly" raped a cheerleader. "So, you didn't even touch her?" "Nah," he began, "she became dangerously infatuated with me and began to hang around. Got drunk at a party and got raped by some college dick-head. I found her, cleaned her up, and she knew the entire story." She gave him an understanding look. "But, she wanted my affection, and mistakenly thought she could get it by claiming that I raped her." "Why isn't she here anymore?" "Well, she got pregnant..." "OH!" "...and as you can tell, I am black." "So, the guy who did it was...." "Yep, he had blonde hair and blue eyes, and so did her baby!" "Oh..my god..." And on went the conversations. The girl then began to tell about her abusive father. And other horror stories... "My dad came in one morning, he was drunk...he beat my mom, for at least 2 hours." "ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS???" he exclaimed. "Calm down. It's not the worse." "Not the wor-" he decided to let her finish. "After he beat her....he...he....raped me." This paralyzed him with anger. "It went on and on. Now, he still does it. I never fight back. I just let him get what he wants, then he leaves." "Oh...no..." he looked at her now dark, and somewhat sorrowful face. "I am so sorry that any of this has ever happened to you..." She looked up, realizing the gravity of what she just told this stranger, to her world. But the look of concern and rage...and even pity....they all made her feel something. She hugged him, until her arms hurt. As they departed, she felt a sense of longing, deep inside of her. She wanted to be free, set aside from the constrictions of an abusive pedophile for a father. She got home, and he tried his routine. "FUCK YOU! AND GET OFF OF ME!" she screamed at she hit him in the testicles. He fell over and let out a yelp. "That'll learn you...sick bastard." Amazed with her courage, she headed back to school to reaccount her moment of bravery. "Dude, she's not like that." "How do you know," spoke his annoying friend in his nasally voice, "did she say she wasn't?" "...how much man?" "$500" "MY GOD!" she thought, "he's planning on making a bet on me..." She cried and ran off. As the conversation with his friend continued, he said, "Dude these tickets better be worth $500," and he finished, "she's not a gold digger." Elsewhere, believing she had been fooled, again...her life ended. No note. Just her blood caking the tub..

It's cramped in here and I can't see... I think mommy loves me; because she wants to set me free.. Abortion. It scares me to think where the world would be...if this didn't exist. Now, don't get me wrong, I do think that killing an unborn child is wrong, but there are factors that we all must consider.. Most countries that don't practice abortions are suffering from rampant over-population, as well as disease and starvation. Poor living conditions, unsteady economy, just generally horrible well-being for the people. It's hard to get good food, and even harder to support 5 to 7 kids, on average. On the flip-side.. Abortions...as they stand, are so morally wrong, it's shocking that some people can do it without a second thought. Imagine going out, having sex with everyone you could find. Imagine not using protection. Imagine not worrying about all of the possible diseases you could possibly contract. Imagine finding that easy girl... Imagine having sex with her. Now imagine this: You wake up, feeling great. You have a decent job, a nice car, and a good looking apartment. You have awesome fuckin' friends. You always go out with them. In fact, last weekend, you got hammered and fucked a slut that you always see at the club. You're on top of the world. "riiiing" Then it happens. "You're pregnant!?" you exclaim. You get the response that you didn't want. "How did she even get my number?" you think to yourself. "That dumbass probably gave her my number.." You quickly think of a solution.. "Get an abortion." She didn't want to hear that, but she knows that she can't handle the responsibility either. She really wants to be a mother though... Under normal circumstances, this could go two ways. 1.) She keeps the baby, and the father will or will not be there. 2.) She gets an abortion. Sadly, abortions are quickly becoming the norm. A life for a life, some assume. My stand on the whole situation, is... pro choice. Only because, some women are pregnant out of horrible situations. Rape, incest, and any other form of unwanted penetration. Women who willingly laid down to have sex, should not be allowed to have an abortion. They put themselves in that position, so they should have to deal with it. So many factors to consider... Morally, it's very wrong. Economically, we could stand to have a few extra kids. Eh, that's just me. But what do you think about this? I've given my opinion, now tell me yours. I will respond to everyone's comment. Get to it.

Because I like to watch things die...from a good, safe distance, of course. I've been writing on Myspace for about 8 months now, and I've become decently popular, among friends at least. Then I found CherryTap (formerly Lostcherry). I went through the top blogs on this site, and was instantly disgusted. Not only are most of them mindless drivel, but some people actually post several blogs a day. I mean like 5 or 10. Now, back on my Myspace page, I would've deleted this person off of my list, but monotony seems to be the norm on this site. I am not bitter or anything, but this site is so superficial. You have to be showing skin, or "showin sum luv", just to get a bit of attention from most the conceited people on here. I mean, I've gotten a lot more than I could handle... ...But I don't have all day to sit here, and attempt to make myself into a "Super Cherry" or whatever in the happens when you level up on here. The main reason I got on here was because my friend Chrissy asked me to. Eh, back to the reason I decided to write this. The top writers. I know one of the top writers, and I was plesantly suprised when I discovered that she was top blogger person on here, but still... I write, because I like to entertain people. I don't write for attention. But it gets to the point where you want to expose your writings to the world, and it seems only a small group of people actually does read (glance through) it. Eh, I can bitch all I want.

No one will read this anyways...

... The end!

Fed up with the direction his life was heading, Brian decided....that death would be the only escape from is mundane existence of pain and agony. Everyday, he struggled with the constant pain of being an outsider. No one to hang out with, no one to be there for him when he needed a friend, his own parents even abandoned him. And only 16 years old, he was trapped with his abusive foster parents. His original parents "supposedly" left together on a business trip with his fathers company. They were in the Cayman Islands, where they had supposedly kidnapped, and never heard from again. He happened to be walking by his old home, one day, to witness something horrifying. He saw his dad hurriedly leaving the house. He screamed, "DAD, I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!!" As he ran towards the black van, his dad turned around with a solemn grimmace on his face. This stopped him dead in his tracks. Brain quietly whimpered to himself, "...dad....please don't leave me again..." As he said this, his father's head slowly turned away, and Brian caught a glimpse of a tear falling... This was three years ago. Since then, Brian was moved into a foster home, with his mothers sister. She was very hostile towards Brian, especially since she hated his father, for unknown reasons. He had spent the last 3 years, living in fear of her constant belittling, and verbal abuse. Whenever she felt she had enough of his smart-assed mouth (which he didn't have), she would send her husband in for the physical abuse. Brian hated them, and he hated his parents for abandoning him. His dark, brooding nature made him into an outcast in school, as well. People thought of him as a bit off, or weird. He was never happy, and he never smiled. The "Goth" kids were even afraid to approach him. He had no friends, and this fact was made worse by the fact that he actually wanted to be accepted as he is. This wasn't meant to be. People were too close-minded. He decided that he only had one path out of this....suicide. Standing in his room with a pen and a piece of paper, he began to write the final note in his tormented existence... To everyone who has ever cared for me, to those who hated to see me down... To those who thought of me, when thinking of a person who made them smile... To those who just wanted me to be happy; for me to be normal.. To those who would never do anything to hurt me; those who would comfort me... I am sorry. I was too weak. I just wanted to be happy, and that was too much to ask. My life, in its twilight, had become painfully hard. I cannot go on. So, to everyone I have ever made happy, in some form or another... I am sorry... And with that, his life ended....