lexidriggs
Flames engulf me with every pang of emotion. Happiness. Sadness. Loneliness. Longing. Everything. No matter what I feel, it burns so strongly that I can never really shake it until new flames come and burn the old feeling away.
Lamb to the slaughter. A little lamb. So helpless and pathetic and just needing to be taken care of. Not pathetic, just gentle. Underestimated. Under appreciated. So delicate and helpless. And so precious.
A knock at the door. It usually means the maintenance man is here to fix another problem that will magically disappear the moment he walks through the door. But, sometimes, it's easy to wish it would be a knock that could change your life. Someone presenting you with a big check or the opportunity of a lifetime or something. Or just someone you miss.
Bleeding. I hate it. It's messy and sickening and just shows how human we all are. How mortal. It's like a little piece of you dies every time you bleed. But I guess you could say the same about every time you cut your hair or clip your nails. But it's worse when it's blood, because it's inside of you. From your heart.
I'm so easily startled. Everything makes me jump. But, lately, even things that never made me jump before. A lot of things in crowds make me jump. I don't like crowds anymore. I never really did, but after last Halloween, it's gotten even worst. Everything in crowds startle me. I just want it to stop.
This is an interesting one. I've been thinking about this a lot lately. What is right? What is wrong? And who determines it. I try to live by my own moral compass. Yeah, some of that fits with society's standards, but I won't do something I believe is moral, just because society says it is, if I don't agree with it. Same with something immoral. There is a very fine line between the two, but I think it's up to the individual to decide for themselves.
Dense. It's a weird word. It's usually used to describe heavy situations or crazy intense wording that you have to pick through and overanalyze to understand.
Perfect for me right now.
There's a strange sort of density that comes with trying to write Dexter, because that is the best word to describe how he speaks.
Weird coincidence.
Isn't a port like the window on the ship that shows you the ocean? I remember the episode of the Rugrats where they're on a boat, and Angelica had lost Cynthia--she'd been thrown overboard--and then gets sent to her room and sees her through the porthole. I always thought it would be so cool to go on a boat and just look out into the ocean like that, seeing all the fish.
I remember, one day with Alex, we made up a dance to Do, Re Mi. We were obsessed with Sound of Music. We all started out crouching down on the couch, and when it got to whatever part we were assigned, you had to jump up and jump off the couch. We used to make up a lot of dances, but I think that was one of the only ones we ever performed, for our collective parents. I had to have about nine, that was so long ago. Way back when Alex lived across the street and we actually saw them.