So you've forgetten
and you've surrendered.
Let all the words burn,
let no one remember.

And the sky's grey,
with no light shining.
Dimed through weakness,
no longer blinding.

The streetlights flicker,
fighting to guide me;
lost myself in absent times
whispering to me gently.

No one listened
and no one cared.
No one bothered to notice
of the things I couldn't bare.

I fell apart
relapsing more than twice.
Closed my eyes and let it flow,
going against my own advice.

Would it have made a difference
if I had spoke my mind?
What would I come across?
What could I find?

It hurt to breathe;
like my heart was wailing,
like it only had so much time
before it would start failing.

I tired to hide it;
tired to mask it once more.
Tired to fool you, did it work,
because it did so before.

As I lay here fading
I only have one request.
This was meant for us all,
this was for the best.

I had it all in a vision,
a way to make it all better.
For your mind to say,
"You don't have to love, but you should remember."

So everytime you look at the clouds
and you see the light seeping through,
baby, that'll be me
shining my light on you.

Dressed in white silk and lace
under a dim light past eleven,
I'll be writing for you
up there in heaven.
Farewell.

Peroxide.

Relapsed on 20FEB09.
6;48 pm.

This Close...

I can feel everything slipping out of my grasp.
Whether it be reality or all in my mind,
I'm not letting you go...


Not ever.

The Writer's Curse.

There are a number of writers that write as freely as they want. They say what they have to say, what they have in mind without any thought of who they could specifically impact. There are about 7 billion people in the world. I wonder how many people I have had a significant impact on? And more importantly, in what WAY have I impacted these people or just this one person?
I'm surely not one of those writers that speak their full story often. It is a very rare occassion that I do so. So when I do, you'd know it's serious. But that's beside the point right now.

As I walked anxiously to the bus stop this morning, I thought about the blogs I wrote about certain people or that I wrote specifically for one person to read up on. A few things in the end have happened. Many of them I don't take pride it.


Freedom of Speech:
*defined more by what you can't say, rather than what you are allowed to.



What I'm trying to get at is, we can't say what we want at any given time and without thinking ahead to how it could made a person feel, or think. This happened to me many times already. To think I'd learn from it by now. Never write things down in the heat of the moment and even then, think thoroughly about that you're saying.

It's the writer's curse; what he writes can be a relfection of him.

Truth of the Matter is...

I don't want to lose you, baby.

But I feel like I am. I feel like you're not listening to me somehow. I don't like the near silence on the phone these past days. It's killing me. Baby, I know I'm not perfect, but I'm trying as much as I can to keep you around, to keep you happy. And, I don't have much to offer you, but I love more than any amount of money can buy anyone. I'm hoping that's enough that you'd at least be content with having someone like me. I'll be better now... you'll see. I can change my old ways. I'd do it all for you. I'd go that extra mile. I just want you and no one else.

I love you.

To My Father.

You have raised me for almost 17 years now, and for the first 5 years of my life, you raised me on your own. You have gone from teaching me how to walk to teaching me how to drive. You have given me shelter. You have provided me with food and necessities. You blessed me with so many things in life. You taught me to be wise, to think about things before I act on it. You told me to dream big and work hard for the things I want. You made me independent and to live this life to the fullest, to never let an oppertunity pass me by. You have seen me transform from a totting todler to a woman in the making. A lot of people say that I will one day be successful, and its because of how I was brought up. I will always be thankful to you because of that, daddy. I'm thankful that you loved me unconditionally for 17 years and that you will do so even after your last breath.

But with the things you taught me how to be, you also unknowingly taught me what NOT to be.



I will not raise my voice to my children or anyone around me out of frustration.
I will not lose my temper over something small.
I will not use FEAR to gain respect for my children.
I will not face a problem, only to run away from it in the end.
I will not be arrogant when it comes to my pride.
I will NEVER even attempt to hit my children.
I will NEVER make decisions for my children.
I will not constantly preach about things I told my children before.
I will not talk down on the profession my children aspire to be.
I will let my children follow their own dreams and support them no matter what.
I will listen to what my kids have to say instead of forcing my ideas on them.
I will have patience with my children.
Most importantly, I will NEVER make my children feel like they aren't good enough, that they don't meet my standards.

Diagnosis Scoliosis.

After waiting for an hour at the clinic, the nurising asisstant finally called my name.

"Mia," she called out.
"Its Maia, thanks," I said to myself.

After coming in here since the 8th grade, she still couldn't get my name right. I waited in the doctor's office to be checked. My dad and brother were with me. As if an hour just wasn't enough, I had to wait an extra 30 minutes. How wonderful. Finally, it was my turn. The doctor walked in with my x-rays in hand. He took them out of the huge folder-envelope thing and examined it.

"Well," he began to say.
"Your spine seems to have deviated to the left. It deviates in two places; on the slower back by 20 degrees and up here a little more by 21 degrees."

Note to self: look up deviated.

"So, yes, you have Scoliosis. Now, how old are you," he continued on to say.
"I'm turning 17," I said.
"Well, that means you've about reached your permanent height. You probably won't grow anymore, which is a good thing."

Thank you for also confirming that I'll be this short forever, doc.

"How is it a good thing," I asked, almost sarcastically.
"Its a good thing because if you grew any more, your spine could deviate even more. Then, you'd need srugery."
"Oh. I see."
"Now, since you aren't growing, I don't see how it will get worse. You might have to see a Chiorpractor though. Get some physical therapy to see if we can straighten it a little. Now, do you carry anything heavy on your shoulders?"
"What?"

I had to think about that for a second.

"Uhm... no," I hesitated.

Well, that last thing the doctor said got me thinking. I'm the type of person that keeps to herself. With most of my problems, I don't always vent them out like I should. The things I'd feel guilty doing, I don't say... everything. I honestly do sugarcoat about 89% of whatever I tell most people-- I tell the complete truth to three people. Anyways, the 89% of the sugarcoated things I say I don't easily let go. I carry them with me... on my shoulders. Like Atlas who carried the world on his shoulders as punishment. I found it interesting I was diagnosed with something that involved carrying heavy things. Though in my case, it was figuritively speaking.

Just wanted to share that with you guys.