tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70992079453864739932024-03-12T16:15:14.231-07:00Lamentations of a Teenage Girl NothingBlood Butterflieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09253323030641320599noreply@blogger.comBlogger14125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7099207945386473993.post-31138293229067056242012-09-30T01:19:00.002-07:002012-09-30T01:19:32.597-07:00Tessa decides to tell the truthI haven't been here in a while, not ever since my older brother hijacked this blog and edited stuff to suit his story.<br />
<br />
Oh, about the title... yeah. I'm going to tell the truth. I've stopped cutting, but the thing about this is that I'm going batshit crazy without it. I feel the urge to cut. But I was honestly suicidal a few months back. No one knew. And my guess was that no one really wanted to know. I had told my parents before, heatedly, in an argument, that one day I would kill myself, but they brushed it off and treated it as if it was nothing. Everywhere I went since the day of the argument, I saw ways for me to die: Tall buildings. Oncoming trains. Knives. Ropes. Even when I passed the police station, I’d think of going in to borrow their guns. I tried. I actually did. I tried to stab myself, strangle myself, but each time I shrank away from it. I was too scared. And each time, it made me want to kill myself even more, because I look down upon myself for trying and failing. I was a failure, right? Everyone said so, and everything I did proved it so. Until that night. I was resolved to do it. I was clumsy with the written word when I was emotional so I decided to give my friend a ring instead. It was late into the night and I didn’t suspect he’d be awake, so I didn’t expect him to pick up. When he did, however, I remember putting it down immediately, and him calling and calling. And when I picked up, I heard him say, “It’s okay. I’m here for you.” And I broke down. I cried. I just wanted to tell him goodbye, that I’m sorry for not being there for him if he needed me… and by those few words, he brought me back. I wasn’t aware of it at the time but after I cried I told him I was sorry. I was sorry for trying to kill myself. I was sorry for not opening up. I was sorry for not telling him, because we never kept secrets from each other. He told me to keep calm and put whatever I was holding down, go back to my room, and sleep it off. And the next day he came over and gave me a paper crane, which is the main reason I’m still alive today.<br />
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The paper crane still sits in my room.</div>
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I don't even know why I want to tell all of you this. My guess is that not many people read this blog, and not olot of people actually know that in the back of my mind, this blog still lives, and that one day, when I'm bothered enough, I should revive it. And I have. But I don't think people are going to read this... but this has gotten a load off of my back. My friend moved away a few weeks ago. He was suicidal and depressed like me, and all I can do now is hope he reads this and knows that even though I never told him "Thank you", I hope he knows that I'm grateful for him for saving my life... for not getting mad at me when I kept it from him... for olot of things. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Also, I want people to know. I want someone to know what happened. I didn't even tell my friend that, but I guess I find comfort in telling people things through my keyboard. Maybe I'll remain anonymous forever. I don't know. But I want people to know the truth; I want people to know my story.</div>
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I want a comfort to know that when I die, if I die, I won't be taking this with me to my grave.</div>
Blood Butterflieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09253323030641320599noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7099207945386473993.post-67695341577976290102012-04-30T22:48:00.000-07:002012-04-30T22:48:00.628-07:00Fine. Fine. Fine. Monitor every fucking thing I do.It's not like I want to be monitored. I mean, who does? I can't talk like I want to, I can't walk like I want to. They monitor how I talk, what I talk, what I eat, who I hang out with, and I obviously lie to them. I've been telling so many damned lies I'm going to go to hell for this. I'm already in hell, anyway. I don't see the difference.<br />
<br />
Whatever. Call me ignorant. Call me fucking stubborn. I don't give a flying fuck. This is who I am, and who I want to be. You can't make me change myself to suit you. I will not. I will never do that. Ever.<br />
<br />
I hate this black and white environment. I want colour. I want change. I want something more than being a keyboard warrior and sitting behind a fucking computer screen typing and venting my anger in an online diary nobody will ever read. I want something more than those eagle eyes, staring into my back. You may not think that I know, but I catch it. When I look up, you're looking at me. When I look up, you advert your gaze and shift your eyes off to the side. What in fucking hell is wrong with me? Am I not deserving of my own privacy? Why can't I do the things that I want to do, ever? Why do I have to account for my actions to you? You don't govern my life. You don't even own my life.<br />
<br />
By naming something, you own it, that's what I read somewhere. So if you named me, you own me. I hate that mindset now. I hate it. I truly hate it. Just leave me the fuck alone. I don't want to cry anymore. Sometimes I wish I wasn't born with tear ducts, because the tears burn my face, as if they were acid. As if my face was so volatile it reacted with water to kill me from within. I hate those salty droplets of water that sprout from my eyes.<br />
<br />
Your smiles are so fake. When you say you love me in the sweetest voice, I feel like throwing up. I rather you come straight out and tell me that you hate me, that I was adopted. That I will never amount to anything, because when I do, I can laugh at your predictions instead of having to put up with more and more of your "I knew that my beautiful daughter will amount to someone who will change the world". I want to change the world, but not in the way that you want me to. I don't want to do medicine anymore. I want to change the world, heart by heart, note by note, because that is my passion. That is what I want to do. That's what makes me and my dreams truly, truly beautiful. Maybe tragically, but truly beautiful.<br />
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And speaking of beautiful, your definition of beautiful is definitely different from mine. You only care about outward beauty, how short my shorts are, how much of my ass is exposed when I go running, whether I have a 2 inch diameter waistline or not. Shut. The. Hell. Up. I don't care whether I'm 'fat' or not. As long as I'm happy with what I look like, shut up. I'm beautiful on the inside, and gradually, I know, I will be beautiful on the outside. What you want me to look like is not beautiful. You want me to look hot. Fine. Fine. Fine. I'll look hot. If I come home saying I've been raped it's your fucking fault.<br />
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Since when did I name you my keepers? I am a dove, I have no keeper. Yet, I have been captured, stuck in a cage that is overused and undercleaned, undermaintained, not able to even stretch my wings. You want to see me fly, but how can I fly if you don't let me go?<br />
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You're trying to pave the way for me, I know. You want me to get into medicine. You want me to follow the footsteps of my father, to become a world reknowned doctor, travelling the world with the press or sitting in an office, rotting away with those overused medical terms. You want me to BE my father.<br />
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And it's not 'dad', or 'mom', anymore. It's 'father' and 'mother'. 'Dad' and 'mom' have emotions attached to them. You are just taking on this responsibility because I am an accident. You just had my younger brother after me to make it seem planned. Crafty, but I cracked you. I cracked your secret, and you don't like it. You don't like the fact that I'm telling the truth, that I really just was an accident. You are just my biological parents, nothing more. You don't even care about me. I could drag myself home with a broken leg for all you care, you wouldn't even notice.Blood Butterflieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09253323030641320599noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7099207945386473993.post-81546595771784610902012-04-12T00:08:00.001-07:002012-04-12T00:10:09.928-07:00Happy Late Post About the Birthday Of a Man who doesn't care about me, probably doesn't know I exist either, but I do care lots about him.<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}">
<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">He
taught me to never give a fuck about what others think. He taught me to
always chase my dreams and fuck the others who are too timid, or too
conformed by society to do so. He taught me to always live and love,
that there are people out there who understand you. That there are
people out there who love you, truly truly love you for who you are. He
taught me to respect myself, to never hurt mysel<span class="text_exposed_hide">...</span><span class="text_exposed_show">f in any way possible. He taught me many, many, many things. He is the best teacher ever.<br /> <br />
He molded me and painted me, from an unsightly, dull, clay vase to one
that is brightly coloured and unique. I was stuck in society's trap -- a
black and white world that was just so drab and dull. When I longed for
something more than the usual screaming and crying, he gave that to me.<br /> <br /> And without him knowing it, he became my hero.<br /> <br /> Thank you, <a data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/user.php?id=100002234744441" href="http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100002234744441">Gerard Gee-way</a>. Thank you, and happy birthday. May the years to come be even more successful for you. Stay happy, stay snarky, stay my hero.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}">
<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="text_exposed_show"> Um, also, this picture kind of reminds me of the I'm Not Okay video, their uniforms, lol! I stumbled upon this... </span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}">
<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="text_exposed_show">http://www.rgs.newcastle.sch.uk/z_core/z_images/content/general/uniform-boys.jpg</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}">
<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="text_exposed_show">Anyway.</span></span></h6>
<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}">
<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="text_exposed_show"><br /><3</span></span></h6>Blood Butterflieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09253323030641320599noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7099207945386473993.post-4901741043659267622012-04-02T06:19:00.000-07:002012-04-02T07:34:26.467-07:00I feel like I'm sorely missing something here.Maybe it's just me; maybe it's the fact that I just finished watching Life On The Murder Scene and when Gerard said "When this band is through" I just couldn't take it and broke down. Maybe it's because I'm becoming too dependent on my music to keep me breathing, keep me alive, living, properly living.<br />
<br />
But then again, nothing like this would happen. Right?<br />
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I mean, I just watched the Helena video again, and somehow it just has so much more meaning to it than just a video, a snapshot in time and space to commemorate Helena's passing. I don't know -- these are the type of things I would just love to describe to you guys, but then again I stumble for the correct words and it all comes out wrong. That's the way real music is supposed to make you feel. That's the way music is supposed to make you -- it would make you want to cry, and pour out, bleed out your soul onto the keyboard or a piece of manuscript.<br />
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So my little emotional rant is half over, but I still feel like I'm lacking. I'm missing something here, something that's supposed to be the whole point -- something intangible.<br />
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I'll find it later.<br />
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Okay, so I haven't been here in a while, thanks to exams, shit, tests, shit, shit, shit, and more shit. But this post is dedicated to lots of things, and as we go down, why don't we tick them off the list?<br />
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Dedicated to: My Chemical Romance; for being the best band ever is, ever was, ever will be. Thanks for so much, and I'm actually just mentally dating you guys even though (damn) you don't know I fucking exist. I'm so weird.<br />
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Yep. So I logged in this fine night with the bugs trying to fucking rape my hair (get out of there you fucking pests) and I see a new follower! Hell yeah! Anyway just went straight to the new post page so didn't see who it was, but this post is dedicated to you as well! How nice! Welcome to the world of blood, gore, depression, chemicals, and bands.<br />
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(GET THE FUCK OUT OF THERE BEFORE I SQUISH EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU)<br />
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Oh, bugs.<br />
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Hmm. What else. Oh, and Gerard's birthday is in a week's time, hooray! Happy birthday you fucking sass master. I've got prezzies, and I'm gonne post them to your facebook wall ahahahahaha.<br />
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I'm so weird. That's the second time I've said this.<br />
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This post is also dedicated to the world of weird hairstyling! I wanted to cut my slant a bit shorter (because it was growing like, 8cm long.) so I tried to. But my mother came in and cut BANGS. FUCKING. BANGS. I look so damn weird, and everyone's laughing. Not like it actually made a difference anyway, but I pinned it up, and I'm growing it out so I can cut a proper slant again. NO YOU SHALL NOT. -- Older Bro.<br />
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And yes mother, I'm keeping you away from the scissors.<br />
BUT NOT ME :3-- older bro again.<br />
Just for the record, I'm also dedicating this blog post to abandoning the responsibilities of being the child of two of the shitties parents ever. So now, I'm not referring to them as mom and dad but as mother and father. Gives it a nice, sterile, whitewashed feel that they like. It's gonne take a while to get used to it, but it's gonna be worth it, I swear.<br />
IF YOU THINK I'M NOT GONNA HOLD THIS POST OVER YOUR HEAD... --OLDER BRO MUHAHAHAHA.<br />
(AHA! DIDN'T THINK I'D GET YOU DID YA?)<br />
<br />
Ahem. Bugs.<br />
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Lastly. I think. I'm dedicating this blog post, most of all, to my wonderful sisters and band, the fucking awesome, one and only Revenge Regime. Hell yeah! Also, even though my sisters can't see this, you can practically feel the love and pride ooze from the post.<br />
<br />
(Yeah. Feel it. FEEL EET.)<br />
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So yeah, I love them like family, even though we're all over the world and shit, they're pretty much all I have left, after what happened... but let's not go into details, we're having way too much fucking fun here.<br />
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That's pretty much it, sums up everything that's been happening while I was gone, and yeah, I hadn't had the time or guts to post because parents and exams and shit. So yeah. I'll probably post again next monday though, it's gonna get good. RIGHHHT.--OLDER BRO.Blood Butterflieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09253323030641320599noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7099207945386473993.post-40557217130190497172012-02-27T01:30:00.000-08:002012-04-02T07:35:27.855-07:00I've got good news and bad news. Which one do you want me to say first?Well, obviously the good news, but I'll say the bad first anyway.<br />
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On Saturday morning, my mom accused me of staring at her through my fringe. That apparently inflamed her hatred for me, causing her to -- goddam, this sounds so scientific. I guess I've just been groomed that way. She took the kitchen scissors and grabbed me by my fringe, pulling me towards her with the intention of chopping it off. I pushed her away. I mean, in a situation like this, someone's first instinct is to push them away, right? I don't know. Finally she let got of me and nearly stabbed me with the scissors, saying, "You're really big now aren't you? You can kill your mother now right?"<br />
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I didn't want to kill her, no matter how much I hate her. I threw the scissors away on the floor and said. "No, I'm not going to kill you."<br />
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She screamed at me for lying, and that all I wanted to do was to run away. Not true. All I want to do is to be loved for who I am, and be accepted. I didn't want to be changed. I didn't want to be beautiful. I don't want to be chopped down, me, something perfect, in the process of making myself beautiful. I'm beautiful the way I am.<br />
-_- FROM WHAT I SAW.... YOU SORTA DID GLARE AT MUM. AND YOU'RE PRETTY DAMN DEFIANT NOW. GEEZ. JUST LEARN WHEN TO BACK OFF FROM FIGHTS YOU CAN'T WIN.<br />
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She screamed at me with harsh words, and she blamed me for pushing her. I don't know. If someone was holding a sharp object and trying to hurt you, you would push them away. You would distance yourself.<br />
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I don't know. The moment when her face, it was so etched with anger. It was etched with the pleasure at my hurt. It remains burned in my brain, and it's hurting me every single second. I wish I could wipe it all away. I wish I could. I loosing sleep over this.<br />
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But good news though, I'm meeting my sister tomorrow. We're not related by blood, but we love each other so much we call each other sisters. She's helped me through so much, including what was just described. I'm so excited, and I'm really looking forwards to it. I don't know what I'll do though.Blood Butterflieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09253323030641320599noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7099207945386473993.post-43558535828732201322012-01-31T23:47:00.000-08:002012-01-31T23:47:58.042-08:00Random thoughts in complete randomness of a completely insane and random person.I kind of noticed that most killjoys on the my chem website are getting ass hurt over a few trolls maybe, as well as not winning some competitions.<br />
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You asses, re-LAX. It's a competition, and you gave it your best shot. Stop fucking ranting about how you're supposed to have won. In our eyes, all our answers are always good enough. Our answers will always be the perfect ones. OUR response is always correct and the best, no matter how wrong it is.You are all really childish to have gotten butthurt over not winning that Phant-O-Matic, okay? My Chem organises a motherfucking competition so that their fans will be happy. THEY, I am sure, certainly didn't want their fans to be hurt over not being able to win. They are the ones that selected the entry that would win, so why are you getting hurt over it? Accept the fact that your answer probably wasn't good enough and move on, because other than that, all you can do is sulk about it, bitch about it, fuck a horse about it. Nothing you can do will ever make you the winner of the competition, no matter how many times you dream of it, no matter how many times you want to murder the person over and over and over, no matter how many morbid thoughts you have on killing and mutilating the winner. SHE was chosen to be the winner, and there's absolutely nothing, NOTHING, you can do about it. So STOP being a pain in the ass and move on. Lots of chances await you, so you have to keep trying. Don't just sit there and expect things to happen.<br />
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I've also noticed that the killjoys are quarreling over who should win and who shouldn't. WELL EXCUSE ME, you might call it sibling rivalry, but I wish. I really wish that we could be a family again. Killjoys, I'm fighting a motherfucking losing battle here. I can't win if I'm flying solo. We need to be a big family again. We need to love each other like we did before. What happened? People hate us, because there's too much drama here! I agree with them. Some people have been quarrelling over the issue of "new" fans and "old" fans. Apparently, they say, old fans are the best of fans while new fans just want to be fans because My Chemical Romance is now mainstream. Yeah right. YEAH RIGHT. Fans will be fans, tumbleweeds, and as long as they love MCR for their world-changing records and albums, not just like "OHMYGODIWANTTOFUCKGERARDUNDERTHEMISLTETOE" or something along those lines then please, accept them for who they are! We are all outcasts here, and in my opinion the my chem website, the facebook page, even the MCRmy twitter accounts, are where we are accepted. Where we can belong. AND you guys, the supposed loving and caring older ones, are ousting them out! You are ostracizing them! What happened to the one big family?<br />
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Also that thing about the old MCR and the new MCR. Killjoys, there will be old material and new material, but MCR will be MCR and that will never ever change. NEVER. The message they've been sending 7 years ago is the same that they're sending now: "Be yourself, never be a second-rate copy of someone else because you are unique and no one can ever replace you." They are sending the same message, except through different sounds: Bullets and Revenge were very dark and what fits the stereotype of emo, Black Parade was spunky and theatrical, and Danger Days is futuristic and loving. Can't you see that? Patients have left the MCRmy because "oh, the new album is too happy." What kind of fucking reason is that? MCR has and always will be my hero, because they send the same message with every song they produce; be it Our Lady of Sorrows or Vampires Will Never Hurt You or Sing or Party Poison. They are the same message in a different form! It's like eating chocolate ice cream and eating chocolate ice cream CAKE.Blood Butterflieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09253323030641320599noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7099207945386473993.post-8729703281322454472012-01-29T22:38:00.000-08:002012-01-29T22:38:50.339-08:00Finally, a meaningful post where I don't rant negative things!So since I'm really bored, I've decided to come up with a list of what is my top ten favourite lyrics and why. Everybody wants to know the why. Yes, yes you do.<br />
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Starting with 10! This is from the song My Immortal by Evanescence. "There's just too much that time cannot erase." These lyrics have helped me through rough patches in my early fandom, when I started to "go bad", as my mom would say. There's a lot of depth in these lyrics, because the emotional scars inflicted on me in my early fandom still remain. Only death, I fear, can take away these scars.<br />
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9! This is from Zero Percent by MCR. "Oh, my magazine is full of ugly things!" These pretty much defeated the purpose of magazine publishers publishing stereotypes in their material. Models in magazines are supposedly "beautiful", anorexic bitches. Since when did a skin-and-bone model become prettier and hotter than someone like Marilyn Monroe!? This really took the pressure off me to look REALLY skinny and so-called pretty.<br />
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8! From Sing, MCR. "Sing it for the deaf, sing it for the blind." This really evokes pity for the handicapped people, how they're not able to do things that most of us can do, for example, see where they're going. We should never ever look down on these people because you have absolutely no idea what they've gone through.<br />
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7! From NaNaNa, MCR. "Everybody wants to change the world, everybody wants to change the world but no one, no one wants to die" Of course it's true that no one wants to die! Even in your darkest of moments, there's always a glimmer of hope, giving what I call "Pandora's principle".<br />
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6! From The Kids From Yesterday, MCR. "You only hear the music when your heart begins to break." My heart, is broken. Nuff said.<br />
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5! From Our Lady of Sorrows, MCR. "Oh how wrong we were to think that immortality meant never dying." Does it, my blog readers? Does it? Think about it.<br />
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4! From Summertime, MCR. "And carry all this broken bone, through the six years down in crowded rooms, and highways I called home." When we meet that one person that we truly love, and who truly loves us, they would help us, support us, even though we're so broken on the inside. Even though we may have run away, even though we lost everything we once had.<br />
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3! From Sing again. "Generation nothing. nothing but a dead scene, product of a white dream." Isn't everything around us so monochrome now? It's so black and white it nearly hurts. Most of us have lost our colours, our life, our vibrancy. We ARE, and becoming quickly, generation nothing, a product of a white dream.<br />
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2! From 21 guns, Green Day. "Does the pain weigh out the pride, and you look for a place to hide." We all have our egoes, and no matter how grand and furious they are, they are egoes after all, and will hurt our hearts once in a while.<br />
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Finally, 1! What, no drumroll? Whatever. From Welcome To The Black Parade, MCR. "And though you're dead and gone believe me, your memory will carry on." Those are the sweetest words I have ever heard a son say to his father.Blood Butterflieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09253323030641320599noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7099207945386473993.post-19374885668509216742012-01-24T23:00:00.000-08:002012-01-24T23:00:51.735-08:00Uh-huh. So I've been away. And your point is...?And what's been happening in the meantime? Well, I can say that I've tied up most of my loose ends, my dad's tried to kill me many times over, school is boring, cookies are nice and the list goes on. BUT! Most important. I finally got the courage to contact Gerard via email, and he's replied :) Sad to say after about 6 emails we're still arguing about hyperventilation.<br />
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He's bleached his hair, and I want to dye mine pink. For a day. DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT YOU KNOW I'M INSANE. Anyway I asked him for hair dye-ing tips since he's dyed it so many times *w*<br />
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I've found out that the people on twitter really are nicer than the people on facebook, but that doesn't change the fact that they ARE part of the MCRmy, part of my family.<br />
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I guess it's just the fact that lots of people on the facebook page are really sketchy, and that just really gets on my nerves whenever I talk to them. It's like, sex this, sex that, sex all over the place. We are better than that, I know we are.<br />
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My parents have found out I'm talking to "devils" and want me to stop. I think if I carry on with this they'd call the exorcist lol.<br />
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I've gone past the depression, and I'm glad to say three weeks off the pills and cuts! Yay! Hopefully I can keep this up so I don't ruin my life any further. I've also gotten a slant fringe thing. It's quite nice, and I look lots better in it. Vritika23 on twitter is now my big sister. So is fuckyeahbandit.<br />
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If I get good enough results on my mid-year this time round I'll be getting a dog. I want a husky, and I'll name it Nightlocke. Thank you Rue, for being such an awesome friend. Good luck wherever you go, whatever you do, because the love of the MCRmy is with you. I hope to see you again one day.<br />
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<3,<br />
BBBlood Butterflieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09253323030641320599noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7099207945386473993.post-1620678601305098082011-12-05T06:26:00.000-08:002011-12-05T06:26:15.962-08:00Just about every guy I cross stares at my ass. And they're at least 50 years older than I am.I mean, seriously! And my mom bought a pair of shorts (and they can't even be qualified as shorts, more like underwear) with flower prints on my ass. Honestly, fuck the hell off and go stare at your own wife. Don't stare at me. I'm 50 years younger, so go home and be jealous. DO NOT EVER SHOW IT IN FRONT OF ME.<br />
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Also this thing about my mom always waking up on the wrong side of the bed, coming upstairs, yelling at me for doing BIOLOGY (Well sorry if the human urinary system and its parts don't agree with you, mom) then going downstairs, still yelling at me, and then later in the afternoon telling me to fucking strip myself and go parade outside. Seriously, if you desire that kind of thing THAT MUCH, go do it yourself. Also about telling me to be a prostitute. Please, I thought you wanted me to be a fucking doctor.<br />
<br />
And I'm so sorry for everyone who tried to keep me away from it. I really couldn't. And so I've officially broke my streak, and after the scars heal, I'll start from day 1. I know this will never be enough to say how sorry I am because I'm such a fucked up person. And it's not like I don't have people out there carrying a small portion of my enormous burden, trying their level best to lighten that burden. It's not like I don't have people praying for me. It's not like I don't have people always telling me not to cut, always checking the inside of my left wrist. But left to my own devices, with such an emotion at the time, I'm really, really, really sorry, Killjoys. I know a simple sorry will never do, and I'm sorry to have shattered your rainbow-splattered/black little hearts.<br />
<br />
I've done it again, and I have to reset the timer, go back to day 1.<br />
<br />
I really love you guys, and I want you to know that. I just couldn't take it anymore, and it was so innocent, just sitting by itself over there... I only remember standing up, and then there was blood in the sink. And on the blade. It made me dizzy for a while, and I don't remember what happened after that, only that I staunched the flow of blood, went back upstairs, got yelled at a little more, and then went back to physics. And no one noticed.<br />
<br />
I want to thank everyone who's been here for me, and I want to ask of you guys one more thing.<br />
<br />
Please, bear with me and help me. I'm trying, I really am, but numbers meant nothing once the first incision was made. Thank you all for your encouragement, and I pray and hope you guys will not give up on me.<br />
<br />
#Killjoyoff,<br />
<br />
BBBlood Butterflieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09253323030641320599noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7099207945386473993.post-10492530306089319752011-12-01T18:22:00.000-08:002011-12-01T18:22:07.981-08:00I think my biological clock needs some batteries...Seriously! I mean, it's gone WAY past the date, and I don't know, I've just been kind of waiting for it, just to prove that I AM normal. Fucking morons.<br />
<br />
I wish SO HARD that humans have oestrogenic cycles instead of menstrual cycles, so nature doesn't fucking give us a fucking gift every fucking month. I hate nature's inequalities.<br />
<br />
Damn you. Damn you all.<br />
<br />
Isn't it like, better for all of us girls not to lose blood but instead absorb it back? I mean, lots of mammals do it. We're the "unique" ones.<br />
<br />
Fucking moron.<br />
<br />
And another thing. What the fuck is it with humans and their obsession with the sickest part of the human body? I mean, I was on the fucking train, and I was standing near the door, leaning on this thin plastic-glass thing. Of course, when it's thin, you can fucking feel that something is fucking pushing against it. I turned back and guess what I saw?<br />
<br />
This MAN, was putting his fucking HAND on my ass area.<br />
<br />
GODDAMN PEDOPHILES.Blood Butterflieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09253323030641320599noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7099207945386473993.post-85207478104168723572011-11-28T01:14:00.000-08:002011-11-28T01:14:44.810-08:00You know, the fact that a celebrity might be reading this is rather horrifying.The thought just came, and I thought I'd might like to write it down somewhere.<br />
<br />
Also kind of creepy that the person you will eventually meet and settle down with is walking the earth right now, and maybe you've bumped into him/her on the street, maybe you've talked to him/her before and maybe you like him/her. The very prospect is rather creepy. Well, amazing, but creepy.<br />
<br />
Also the prospect that the celebrities *coughmcrcough* I'm writing a fanfic about right now might be reading this post, and then going on to read my fanfic which I am going to post on my other blog, is kind of creepy, not to mention weird. And to allay your fears, my darling rock stars, there is no Waycest or Frerard, and definitely no Frikey. I respect your privacy, I really do. I'm a straight person. Frank, go ahead, say it with me: Homophobia is Gay.<br />
<br />
Also most people might be dead in the end.<br />
<br />
I know for a fact that my character's mom is dead.<br />
<br />
I think I'm going to kill her dad off as well.<br />
<br />
Interesting plot points much.<br />
<br />
I'm also going to break up with my "boyfriend". (He calls me his girlfriend, but honestly, I think he's just that pathetic.) Everytime I see him he just drags me into a room and tries to have sex with me. Seriously, dude, get a grip.<br />
<br />
Also, he's three years older than I am, and that makes him 17. OMFGeezy. I've decided that this first impression of what is so-called love is not entire THAT good, and therefore I'm dumping it.<br />
<br />
No hard feelings, really, but I wonder how the guy will take it.<br />
<br />
Also, I'll be damned if another of this kind of guys pops up.<br />
<br />
*sighs*<br />
<br />
I really should be posting some fanfic. I'm working on it. Might meet a writer's block halfway and trash the whole thing, but hey, it's gonna be fun anyway.<br />
<br />
I'll have to get the prologue from the MCR website first, so nothing's here yet.<br />
<br />
Now, a lovely poem for you all, it's my contribution to the "Not Alone, All Together" project.<br />
<br />
You are Not Alone<br />
<br />
<br />
Death.<br />
Despair.<br />
Seems familiar?<br />
Disorientated.<br />
Desperate.<br />
You search uselessly for a way out.<br />
Darkness boils within.<br />
A bright angel, demolished.<br />
Death beckons to you with a crooked finger.<br />
The knife, it seems so tempting.<br />
The gun, so innocent.<br />
All it needs is a small movement of a suicidal muscle.<br />
But stop.<br />
There is hope in the darkness, a light,<br />
The green exit sign entices you to a world of colour<br />
From under his cowl, Death hisses in defiance.<br />
But he can do no more than watch you go.<br />
Pale hands steady your shaking feet<br />
Walking out, tasting freedom so sweet<br />
Ignore their teasing and raucous laughter<br />
Your antagonistic reaction is what they're after<br />
Shine your way out of fear<br />
Hold on to hope that is so dear<br />
Once you leave the monochrome behind<br />
Happiness and colour is all you'll find<br />
Five words, fallen angel, comes the voice from the phone<br />
I cannot emphasize enough -- You are not alone.Blood Butterflieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09253323030641320599noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7099207945386473993.post-22422869640801529142011-11-27T04:29:00.000-08:002011-11-27T04:29:17.652-08:0030 day *coughquestionscough* MCR challengeI've decided that since I probably won't be able to do it for a full 30 days, the answers to my quiz are all here.<br />
<br />
Day 1: Favourite album = Welcome To The Black Parade.<br />
Day 2: Favourite song without a video = Kill All Your Friends<br />
Day 3: Favourite song from Bullets = Drowning Lessons<br />
Day 4: Favourite song from Revenge = It's gotta be Helena<br />
Day 5: Favourite song from Parade = Kill All Your Friends<br />
Day 6: Favourite Frerard moment = When Frank was all like: *throws guitar around* *kisses Gee*<br />
Day 7: Favourite lyrics = 'Cos we all wanna party when the funeral ends<br />
Day 8: A song that makes you happy = Summertime<br />
Day 9: Favourite live performance = Erm, never actually been to one, but if I must, the one where Gerard said, "22. If I had a cupcake, I'd give it to you."<br />
Day10: Favourite Ray's solo = VAMPIRE MONEHHHH<br />
Day 11: Favourite Bob/Frank moment = During the video called four things you never wanted to know about mcr, frank was literally fucking with bob's mind. I like that.<br />
Day 12: Favourite Gerard/Mikey moment = When Mikey fell onstage, Gerard went over to tickle him. HOW KAWAII<br />
Day 13: Favourite Picture of them = WHEN THEY WERE "Messing around with the giant panda"<br />
Day 14: Favourite interview: AOL session on the spot questions.<br />
Day 15: Whatever tickles your fancy = MIKEY WAY AND HIS UNICORNS!<br />
Day 16: Favourite music video = Helena<br />
Day 17: Favourite video = The one when Frankie tries to get into the coffin XDD<br />
Day 18: Least favourite song = Erm.... Desolation Row<br />
Day 19: A song that makes you sad = Cancer<br />
Day 20: Favourite moment from LOTMS = "I just put my hand in a cupcake!" I guess you would know what I mean.<br />
Day 21: Favourite song they have covered = All I want for christmas is you<br />
Day 22: Favourite Leathermouth song = Fifth Period Massacre<br />
Day 23: Favourite quote = "This shit is easy peasy, pumpkin peasy, pumpkin pie, motherfucker."<br />
Day 24: Favourite Frank tattoo = Search and Destroy.<br />
Day 25: Favourite MCR dog = Professor Buckley<br />
Day 26: Time you've been a fan = 'bout 4 years.<br />
Day 27: How did you discover them = Thank you, my older brother.<br />
Day 28: Resons why you love them and their music =<br />
<br />
<ol><li>They have saved my life on numerous occasions</li>
<li>They are inspirational</li>
<li>They make me cry with joy</li>
<li>They alleviate my pain</li>
<li>They are very sweet</li>
<li>This reason is not very important to me, unlike to some people. They are the hottest guys on earth.</li>
</ol>Day 29: What do you expect about the new album = Well, they said that they needed something to rebel against, so I'm suspecting something as dark as WTTBP, but with still a bit of joy in it.<br />
Day 30: Whatever tickles your fancy = I named Mikey's unicorn Poof.Blood Butterflieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09253323030641320599noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7099207945386473993.post-87581646841306656502011-11-26T23:59:00.000-08:002011-11-27T00:02:23.863-08:00Fucking blood, bruises, blood and more bruisesOkay, let's just say I went out with my church youth group for a barbeque. I had smoke in my eyes, cinders on my feet, and rain water on my back, but the whole thing was worth it.<br />
<br />
Except for one fucking thing.<br />
<br />
We were playing fucking frisbee. Now I have nothing against the people in my group, and neither do I have anything against frisbees, but SOMEBODY *coughjoycough* swung the fucking frisbee right in in my fucking face.<br />
<br />
In my eyes.<br />
<br />
On my spectacles.<br />
<br />
And I hate her for it.<br />
<br />
My eyes watered, and I didn't scream, which was nice.<br />
<br />
Then I started laughing like a dipshit.<br />
<br />
And then they were all crowded around me and like, are you okay and all that.<br />
<br />
Bitches. It's just my fucking eye. Leave it fucking alone.<br />
<br />
Of course, nothing much developed until today, when I looked in the mirror and there was a fucking bruise, smiling blatantly at me, on my fucking face. Fuck you natural healing systems. Be a little more discreet.<br />
<br />
Well, other than that it was a pretty good way to celebrate. I got to play a few MCR songs, but the lighter ones like "Kids From Yesterday" and "Summertime" as well as "Bulletproof Heart" and that's about as far as I could go without having a "NO!" snapped in my face.<br />
<br />
ALSO my fucking handphone is fucking malfunctioning. Every single time I try to open the fucking menu or listen to music it shuts itself off. Damn you malfunctions. Damn you.<br />
<br />
But the good thing about it is that I am getting a new handphone SOON *glares at mom* and it will be better than my older brother's, which means definitely a touchscreen.<br />
<br />
I'm also drinking juice right now. Yeah, I drink juice when I'm killin' cause it's fucking delicious.<br />
<br />
<3,<br />
BB<br />
<br />
--<br />
<br />
"You'll never take me alive, you'll never get me alive."Blood Butterflieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09253323030641320599noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7099207945386473993.post-34542149555336502442011-11-24T18:36:00.000-08:002011-11-24T18:38:44.667-08:00The Maturity that comes with being a teenager can really suck.Nobody tells you you have expiry date. Especially my parents. Because why? Because their too busy caught up with my fucking younger brother who is a goodytwoshoesidiotloser.<br />
<div><br />
</div><div>Well then, if they don't give a hoot about me, then I don't give a hoot about them.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Fucking morons.</div><div><br />
</div><div>And this thing about my coffee addiction. Yes, I am drinking coffee right now. They're all like, "Coffee's a grown-up drink and you should never drink it because you are a kid." and I'm like, "Excuse me, but you said the other day you wanted me to grow up." And they're like, "Oh, we never expected you to take it so seriously."</div><div><br />
</div><div>I'm sorry, but drinking coffee doesn't exactly seem like a serious issue. Day in day out they always say that I'm addicted to coffee, but honestly I'm not. I can go more than a week without coffee.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Fucking idiots. They don't see caffeine addiction when it is. They act like self-important life gurus just because they are more than fucking 30 years older than me. Hello, but I think I've more maturity than you. At least more than you to be able to differentiate who the fuck the coffee is meant for.</div><div><br />
</div><div>What? What's that? Oh, introductions. See, I don't really like to tell people about my true self, so I'm going by a moniker, Blood Butterflies.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Name: Blood Butterflies</div><div>Nickname: BB</div><div>Age: (At time of post) 14 years.</div><div>Birthday: 4 November 1997</div><div>Appearance: Dark hair, dark eyes, rather tan. Wears anything with cool shades in it, like blue/purple. Darker warm shades are welcome, e.g. Red.</div><div>Height and Weight: Confidential</div><div>Nationality: Confidential</div><div>Personality: Usually cold and calm.</div><div>Favourite colours: Black, Blood red and Sky blue</div><div>Favourite bands: I'm a Parawhore, and an Idiot, but my heart is forsworn to the MCRmy. I also like Evanescence.</div><div>Other Favourites: I'm a scientific person.</div><div>Dislikes: Pop bitches and socializing.</div><div>History: I'm a teenage girl nothing. You could say I just fade into the background.</div><div>Relationships: A celebrity crush on Gerard Way and Frank Iero. Other than that, nothing.</div><div>Five words to sum me up: Don't, Read, Me, You, Bitch</div><div><br />
</div><div>There.<br />
<br />
I do have another blog, url: www.bloodmetamorphosis.blogspot.com. I came here because I wanted to shun all the attention I was getting from that blog. I'm such a bloodworm at times.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Another thing I don't understand is why people call me emo. I guess they're just more than jealous of me. So jealous that they go by fucking stereotypes.</div><div><br />
</div><div>On the bright side, I went shopping yesterday, and I picked up fingerless gloves! Woo hoo! Also, a book, a medical thriller, called Mutation, by Robin Cook. Absolute recommendation.</div><div><br />
</div><div>BB</div><div><br />
</div><div>--</div><div><br />
</div><div>"You'll never take me alive, you'll never get me alive."</div>Blood Butterflieshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09253323030641320599noreply@blogger.com1