f'shooooooooo

a squeal in the audience snapped her back into attention. "move! get out there!" hissed the people behind her, "you're holding everyone back!"

nervously, she walked down the aisle, hoping that during her performance she wouldn't mess up. watching the director intently, she focused and went into her own world.

claps and cheers burst from the audience. they liked it! she smiled and looked at the person beside her, grinning from ear to ear.

today

she wanted to scream, and scream she did. no one heard her, right? she was no one and no one cared. her family was gone, wasted away. her friends, they left years ago. her boy, what boy? there was nothing wrong, but all of the pent up anger and sadness was finally catching up. it was here, it was waiting. albeit patiently, but it was still there. and something snapped.

the floodgates opened, and hell hath no fury than a woman scorned.

good life

denial. anger. bargaining. acception.
there's no reason for me to look at this, but it kind of pertains to my life right now.
denial: i'm in a rut, i know it. but i can't accept it. there's this nagging feeling in the back of my head that there's something wrong with me, but i can't ever come out with it.
anger: i'm angry at the wrong things, and at the wrong people. mostly the people that are the closest to me. what i used to pride myself in: my patience and kind disposition, it's gone. yes, i'm still me, but who am i?
bargaining: i'll trade this for that. i'll take yours if you take what i have. usually i deal things and i cheat people. but why am i doing this? am i who i wanted to become?
acception: i am not who i wanted to become. maybe certain aspects, but i didn't know life to be like this.


i didn't know that one day certain songs are going to make me cry. that some people are going to leave a gaping hole in my chest, left to fester. i didn't know that one day that certain topics were going to make me cry. that certain faces were going to leave me bawling. i didn't know that one day people were going to walk out of my life because they turned out wrong. i didn't know people were going to walk out at all. i didn't know that one day i'm going to be left alone to think about who i was, because back then i knew who i was, and what i wanted to do.

now i'm lost, and confused. i can say that. the outside shows that i'm happy, and that i'm carefree, but on the inside i know that there's something wrong. i know that i can say that i can keep it hidden, that there's nothing wrong with me. but is there really? i seem like a drama queen, i know. the world revolves around me. but really, i don't think that.

i don't think anyone really knows who i am, even me. i'm striving to find myself, though. and i think i'm finding myself. both on the inside and out.

time

Flutterby, butterflies.

But before you fly away,

can you tell me the date today?

Time flies by so fast,

but trickles by ever so slowly.

Butterflies, flutterby.

I remember your flight,

but not when you flew away.

night

the night instilled a silence in her that she loved. she was always loud during the day, putting on an amazing facade that no one could break through. but at night, always at night, she could put away her mask, and just be her.
to dance around, to cry, so bellow to her heart's desire.


the mask was always gone, her soundproof walls were the only ones who heard her, and she never had to worry about gossip or judgements.
she used the time to renew herself, to pull strength from herself.

her time was used to think, to cry, to laugh.

but mostly, it was used to read the stories,
the little stories about hope, love, and true bliss.

stories that she hoped one day, just one day,
would happen to her.

so

"So i says to 'im, imma gonna make you a deal-a. If you pays back the money yous owes me, Ricky 'ere won't 'urt you that hard."

Running

Sweat dripped on her shoulders, and her breathing became short and ragged. She was running for her life, adrenaline pumped through her veins as her body used up the energy she had left. She started slowing, she new it. But the monster was right behind her, panting and scratching his way through the forest. Tears started seeping out of her eyes as she thought she was coming to the end, but instinct told her to keep running. So she ran, faster than she ever had before. The wind that slapped her face made her hair fan out behind her, spreading her scent everywhere for the monster. Her muscles screamed in protest, and started cramping. Her sides ached, everything ached. She tripped, and screamed. Her hand had a deep gash in it, and blood already oozed out of the cut. She looked frantically about her and spotted a tree, which she rapidly started climbing.
And she saw it: the smoke-colored fur that covered its body had tangles and spotted with the blood of its other victims. It raised its dog-like nose in the air and started sniffing, his eyes full of bloodlust as it flickered left and right. It spotted her quickly, and fear radiated off her body like a lightbulb. As it started snickering and climbing up the tree, she screamed.

copy

Uncontrolled rage washed through her body as she screamed at no one and everyone. She was alone in her house, who could hear her? She screeched profanities at pictures, and told everyone what she really thought about them. She was tired, after day after day of facades. Linda especially. She was tired of how Linda kept on pushing her over, making assumptions, and thinking that she knew everything. She was tired of being especially nice to her.
And to Gloria. Her picture frame shattered as it hit the cement floor, and received extra abuse. Why did she keep on trying to be someone she wasn't?! Why was she copying her? Why?!

XXX

The next day came, and she pasted a smile on her face as she walked out the front door. "Good morning Gloria, Linda. Wonderful morning isn't it?"

wishes

the harsh, cold winter wind
made her nose red and her lips blue.
it made her shiver violently,
and made her teeth chatter.

the day before the sun was blistering hot,
the weather was dry, cracking her lips.
the orange leaves crackled on the ground,
a strange autumn.

she had wished for winter to come,
for the weather to change,
for she longed to see snow again.
she yearned for the cold.

but now, as she all-but-froze in the snow,
she reminisced of the strange autumn,
how the sun burned hotter than summer,
and how it warmed you to the bones.

POV

her face hurt.
it was being slapped, again and again.
no dinner for her.
it was her birthday.

and yet,
she felt pity for the woman slapping her.
her foster mother.
it was the way the woman was raised, and so she thought it was the only way.

she had a quiet party that night,
with her stuffed bear and mud pies.
she pretended her parents were there with her,
showering her with hugs and kisses.

she came from an abusive 'family' and yet,
when she was out with others,
she was truly happy.
she had a life to live, she wasn't impoverished, and she had friends.

she knew that one day,
some day,
she was going to have a life,
and maybe, love.

rants

She screamed at the top of her lungs, frustrated at the world, frustrated in her situation, and frustrated in herself. Why did she have to be in this family? One that screams and fights so often. Why did she have to be in this crisis, where everyone can turn around and stab you in the back.

She shed the tears that she had been holding back for so long, bearing the turmoil that was in her heart. She was alone, no one could see her now. She punched and kicked and dug her nails into her palms until blood gushed out. Her life's blood, dripping down her arms like streams. She threw whatever she could get ahold of, and beat whatever she could.

Pain meant nothing. She had withstood her fair share, and more. She collapsed onto the floor, and shuddered as sobs wracked her body.

Flutter

Butterfly wings fluttered past her, leaving a trail of rainbows for her to follow. Jumping, laughing, skipping toward the source, she was lead to a somehow familiar meadow, never have been there before. Light danced through trees, and assorted flowers with beautiful aromas were waving in the breeze. The grass had a strange tints to it: green with hues of orange, red, and yellow. She moved her foot, and out sprang millions of butterflies, with diamonds on their wings and strangely smelled of roses. She wandered, and found a bubbling stream with fish the size any fisherman would love to catch. They jumped and played with her, splashing water on her face and flipping in the air. She collapsed, and bathed in the warmth or the sun.

Found

Somehow, the colors were more alive, more vibrant. Seeing the world in black and white made her miss the array of colors she was seeing. Hints of marigold, hues of blue, and all of the colors of the spectrum danced in front of her eyes, somehow teasing her. The colors made her notice how much she really missed, how many months she had been dead. The black and white world she knew was still there, she could see shades of the old world, taunting her. But, she learned to live with them, intertwining with the others. She embraced her new world, and she walked into the abyss.

seriously,

if there are people up in the afterlife, what do they do?
can they watch people?

for if they do, do they see people everyday with their sins?
goodness.

the past is the past

but sometimes, you wish for it back.
you wish for the days when everything was carefree, and easy.
the easy times, the best times. the safe times, the homely times.

back, back to when problems never even existed,
when you thought that the world would end if you didn't get something you wanted.

then, you grow up.
you find out that life is hard, and it cuts and scratches you.
that people change, life changes, and nothing goes your way.

you grow to find that problems do exist,
and the world doesn't revolve around you.

you find that you have to solve everything yourself,
make yourself independent, make yourself grow up.

you find yourself not trusting anyone, not even yourself.

you find that you can't solve everything, you can't make everything better.
some problems you can put problems on, and some you have to pull it off.

you find yourself having to let people go, and letting others into your life.
you find you don't go sitting like a statue, yet don't get clingy.

you let the waters drift you off in the right direction, yet change your course if you have to.
you think you know everything, so you act cocky.
but you find out you were wrong.

when you're young, you think that there's nothing wrong in the world, that it's a new adventure.
but you age, and you harden. you find out new things. you grow up.

Anxious

It's like the going into kindergarten again: new people, anxious faces, and you felt like going to sleep because your mom woke you up so damn early.
But it's different because there are groups of people already huddling together, giggling like the little schoolgirls they are. And, because you're with people you don't like, you have to go and "mingle". Tripping over words, and babbling like an idiot, you make tentative friends.
And it starts over and over again, period to period.. though passing period isn't boring. Yup, you always could get lost. What, with the big school and all. There were so many people, it was confusing. And you end up running into class and get everyone to look at you. Yeah, way to make new friends!
As the day goes on, though, there are some reappearing faces. Pretty soon, those faces were hesitantly smiling at you, because they also want to know at least one person new from the first day of school.

At least the whole year isn't going to be that bad.

Pain

Everytime I hear the cries of the little ones, the ones that don't have voices yet, the ones that haven't found theirs yet, my heart breaks.

My heart breaks that they can't communicate, and tell us what's wrong. How their cry is so pitifull, so full of anguish.

It's sad, how they kick and scream and cry their hearts out, when all they're trying to tell us is that they are hungry.

And how some people can just ignore them, and let their children faint from the exhaustion of crying.

How am I to understand the cries of children?

words

i write, not for the pleasure in writing, not for the sake in writing,
but for the sake of myself. it's my safeguard.

for words have all the patience in the world, they do not judge, they do not criticize.
they listen, and listen well.

people, you worry. worry about what they think, what they'll do. and you always have to worry if you tell a person a secret. will they tell other people?

parchment always has tight lips, and never ending patience. it's a friend, though it doesn't talk back.

you can write all you want about other people: judge others and yourself, and divulge your deepest darkest secret into it, and you never have to worry about it blabbing everything to someone else.

and, when you write something down, it eases the pain and anger a bit, it gives you some sense of renewal. sometimes, it can give you closure.

Walls

She was tired of it all. The yelling, the screaming, the fighting that always happened. Mental wars, and wars among attitudes. Everyone was always waiting for the other to put up the white flag.
Say something, and the other person would do the opposite. Do something wrong, and you get punished. Even look at a person the wrong way, and you get messed up.
Someone once told her that you don't always have to fight all the time. They were wrong. She's tried not fighting, and that got her even more hurt. She lost herself, trying to please people all the time. She lost her essence, and she didn't even enjoy anything, even the moments of peace. Yes, there was more peace on the outside, but on the inside, she was yelling, kicking, and screaming like a banshee.
Tears poured out of her eyes every night, tired of the insults that she heard, even though she didn't deserve to hear them. So, instead of being walked all over, she made a mask.
On the inside, she was what the horoscopes of a Cancer described: soft, and sensitive. She cared for everyone and everything around her, and clung to the traditions that she knew.
But the mask that she now wore was perfect: she was the complete opposite. She was rude, and she didn't care what other people thought of her. Insults flew out of her mouth, left and right, and she wreaked havoc on other people's thoughts and feelings.
Slowly, the thought came to her. Who was she to treat other people this way? She was as worse as the people who made her create the mask. So she created another one.
She created one that could deceive other people's minds, make everyone think she was alright. She made everyone think that nothing was going on, she had a good life. On the inside, she knew that she wasn't. Even through the time of peace, there was always a little voice in her head saying it was going to start soon.
And it was right. The wars began again, screaming, fighting, little twisted mind games. She had her mask on, she was tough and rude and she was wreaking havoc on others, standing up to anger personified. But on the inside, she was still the little Cancer, that got stabbed by a knife by every insult, who wanted to die when someone looked at her and said something mean.
She never forgot her essence though, she never forgot who she was. Because she had alone time after her battles, and tears always seeped out.

But with other people, she was the perfect, happy go lucky, smiling girl. Whose heart was so protected, it was encased in stone. She deceived others, but never got the satisfaction of knowing that they accepted her for who she truly was.

Scream

She felt something sticky and scaly grab her ankle. When she looked under the table, she saw hands not connected to a person, though somehow moving. They let go of her foot and started crawling to those of her two year old daughter. Her heart jumped, and she bolted up the stairs, with her daughter in her arms. Looking back, she saw a woman, and screamed. The woman had a look of utter despair on her eyes, which were sunk into her hollow face. Her face, which was tear trailed and full of cuts and bruises. But what made her scream and clutch her daughter tighter wasn't that the woman had a layer of bruises, or that she was covered in puckered scars, it was because the woman looked like her. She slapped herself, hoping that she was in a dream, but the woman stepped closer, and closer. Placing her mangled hands on her shoulders, she said, "Don't worry, it doesn't hurt."

Pain

Tears of anger, tears of pain, back and forth.. over and over again.
When will this mental war ever cease? When will we ever back down enough to put up a white flag?
Never, but that is only my opinion.
It's my war, it's my fight. My head will always be held up high.
He doesn't know how much it hurts me, how I always seem to cry after our disputes.
Even though, time and time again it happens. I would have thought I was smarter.
When will my war ever cease? When I go away, for good?
But it seems our bond is strong, though what he does wreaks havoc on my mind.
I"m scared. I'm scared of what he can do to me, mentally, and physically.
For months now, nothing has happened. But I knew that it was too good to last.
He seems to seek pleasure from hurting other people, from feeling power.
But when will it ever cease? Will I have to die fighting this never ending mental war?
My will is too strong to give up, though tears come out.
I'm not strong enough to block out body responses, nor strong enough to keep my thoughts in bay, but I know I can stand up to his anger, and to his strength.
I'm supposed to be used to it, but I'm not. Why is that?
Why is it that I know what to expect, yet still quiver in fear? Though I don't show it.
My white flag will never wave.

Lost

She ran through the familiar hallways of her house, though she couldn't say it was her home. She didn't know why she was running, though she had a vague feeling that someone was chasing after her. The maze kept getting deeper and deeper, then she fell. And when she did, despair took over her body, came over her soul, and she shook. She cried the pain that she denied, she denied that she was lost, and trying too hard. Then she realized, that the person chasing after her was despair, her loneliness.. then she withered away into nothing.

Hunger

I wake up to the sound of crying. Everyday, I hear the poor, watch their astonished eyes: they were having bread today. Their rumbling tummies were used to the hunger. Used to going days without food.
But they couldn't wait. The aroma had them under a spell, and they fought for crumbs. Scratching, clawing, hitting each other. Long bonds broken for a morsel of bread.
And yet, somewhere out there a person views their lunch disgustedly and throws it away. A perfectly good meal, PB&J.
Untouched, the poor snatch it from the trash. Bonds break, all for bread.

Crowd

Even in a sea of people, she felt vulnerable. She felt a dark, sinister presence trying to reach her, trying to hurt her. Her brain told her that nothing was out to get her, people could see her if anything happened. But her heart told her to bolt. Adrenaline rushed through her veins, and she ran like a gazelle. But, there were walls surrounding the others, and now even they were getting scared. "The Happiest Place on Earth", the sign said. Now, she was beginning to doubt that. She saw the big, fearful eyes of everyone around her, and cried.

I really

wanted another blog for my mindless, late night story pop ups.
so here :)

my name is Catherine Louise, and many people tend to call me many different names.
i like all colors but booger, haha.
and i think that right now, i'm going to write about something else.

i'm reading A New Spin on an Old Story right now, and it's wonderful.
i just saw 17 Again and i'm going to watch Confessions of a Shoppaholic.
i don't know, there are somethings that i would rather keep out of my other blog.

i think i'm going to work things out on how i'm going to organize my other blog,
i think i'm going to start off with a picture from now on.

i'm going to take up photography, by the way.

always, Kate.