Hello everyone! Just wanted to give you all a final heads up - this journal's being deleted and I've made a new one - <lj user="constantbedhead"> because something weird happened with this one; I can't even explain it, I just needed to make a new one.

Also, if I didn't friend you, I apologize, just friend me, because my journal is friendlocked.

I'm so sick and tired of being fucking sick! Agh! Please, just shoot me now. Get all done with. Effing neck, effing back... whatevs.

Anyone out there want to write a collaboration fic with me? HP Fandom preferably; I don't really care for the specifics on pairings, just let me know; I need something to spark my writing again - stupid writer's block.

Ta, lovies. (:

Kiri's Introduction:

( Olivia )

To you,

I can’t believe the thought of you still makes my heart skip a beat. I remember your smile, or the way you held my hand, or the way you kissed me. There was a shiver that would creep down my spine whenever you said ‘I love you’ and then you would look into my eyes and kiss my forehead. We had something really special… over a year ago. And then it ended, and I thought I was over you. Sadly, I’m not.

It’s safe to say that I don’t know what to do about it. I thought we could get married. We could’ve been meant for each other, still can be in my book. It’s just too, too weird for me to think about us as anything other than together. Friendship would be too hard for me, too crazy. I just want to meet someone who can make me forget us. We were, really, my best relationship. I can’t lie. Chris is sweet, but… there was just something about you. And that something hasn’t left me. I don’t know why. You were really just something special. It’s safe to say… I’m still in love with you – and I don’t know why.

I just don’t know why.

From,
Me.

I've got this suffering inside me - it's been an absolutely horrendous experience, as I have not yet been able to write anything worth while. I've had an idea for a good Rory/Jess for Gilmore Girls, and plenty of original ideas, but none of them compare to anything I've done in the past. It's a bit of a shame... I feel like an idiot, to say the least, as the only thing I've written lately is homework and the TOP 100 THINGS I WANT TO DO BEFORE I DIE.

A wonderful list, mind you.

I just feel like it's missing something - my life, I mean - it's just so crazy. I've always written. I love to write. I live to write. I write short stories, poems, fan fiction, everything... and now I'm stuck under my own iron curtain of museless living.

Awful, I tell you. Awful.

there is something totally and completely invigorating about strolling around manhattan on a cool summer day with my family.

the bodies exhibit was awesome. very informative. i skipped the reproductive part, only because i'm squirmish. but the fact that there are things about our body that i never knew was awesome.

i bought an awesome vintage army jacket, a skirt, a new shirt that i adore, and got a free cd by some blond chick i've never heard of. i saw a bag that i will go back and buy if i can, because a seventy-nine dollar carpet bag is awesome.

i am also determined to see something interesting on broadway with steve someday soon, because i want to take a train into the city again.

i officially do not have enough elvis, james dean, humphrey bogart, william powell, and james stewart memorialbilia.

There's something about life, about living, about breathing; something I can't quite put my finger on, because in all reality, it's not exactly there. It lingers, it wafts, it travels through time and space and latches onto the soul and keeps the heart beating, but it never does anything worth while unless you make something of it. It's like a testament to you being who you are, and at the same time, the outbringing of your flaws.

It's like the pale moonlight that glows, even through the rain clouds. It's like the sun hidden by the rain clouds, but still burning the retina. It's like the rain clouds, showering us with a drizzle or with a downpour. It's like the sky, whisking by above us as we turn on our axis, unaware of our doings.

And yet I can't bring myself to breathe, or feel, or nod off into non-existence, because I know it won't work - that I won't be able to live, because I'm bonded to my past, to my present, and to my future, and I fear that freedom is a word lost in the distance; a distance I will never reach. So I can feel my heart beating, but not my soul breathing, and I can't make out the rhythm and the pattern of life because I'm too scared to wonder at what that pattern and rhythm is. It's like falling asleep in an empty toy box and worrying your parents into thinking you're lost until they find you.

Life is all about the flavored ice pops, or the rice and beans with olives, or the way your hair whips your face when the window's are open when you drive. It's about ripping at the bondages and tearing at the empty soul and reminding your pulse that it doesn't just have to course through your body, it can flow, it can divide, it can conquer the heart beat and freshen the sallow skin above. Life is all about the way you smile when someone says something nice, or the way you fall into the arms of a loved one, or the way he smells when you're laying beside him, or the way she always tells you that you'll be best friends until the world comes to an end. Life is about knowing where your home is, and knowing where your family is. Life is about wanting to be who you are in a world where no one truly cares who you are, because regardless of the stressed uniqueness of society, you'll have to comform or give in and break down at one point, otherwise the walls of economy and politics and living will crash and burn.

Life isn't worth living without love; except love is just a word, not an emotion. Love is just four-letters that are so immune to feelings we've lost the mentality of caring, of knowing, of wanting to be the sole supporter, the go-to-gal, the lover of everything - of the flaws, of the ups and downs, of the small quirks. Life isn't worth living without living, without wanting, without not knowing, without breathing.

And sometimes we forget to breathe, and at the moment, I'm choking on my soul.

Title: The Conqueror.
Author: Masqued.
Rating: Hard NC-17.
Warnings: BDSM, Homosexual Sex, Implied Incest, Major Angst, something close to being considered Cannibalism, and Character Death.

Disclaimers: I don’t own Harry Potter.

Author’s Note: First off – I need to, need to, need to, thank my beloved beta-reader, mordantfebrile for being so caring and kind and willing to tell me that my original was rubbish when it came to this story. Thanks for your consistent effort, and your willingness to put up with me despite my horrendous problems. Please, if I may plug, if not, delete this line, check out her drabble community! drabble_monthly

To thedoppleganger: I was utterly surprised when I was given your prompt. I’d actually noted that I’m fond of writing angst, because it’s slightly easier to write angst for me. I’m not an angsty person, quite the opposite in fact, but I enjoy writing angst because there’s something about not seeing the happy ending that makes me enjoy it.

I honestly re-wrote, deleted, re-wrote, deleted, and re-wrote deleted with this story. I had to finally pick a simple quote, which is the summary of this story, to guide me. I’d look to the quote and remind myself that it was what I was striving for. And I hope the fact that there is mention of love, which is not context of Draco and Hermione, doesn’t hurt the idea you had for this story. Hopefully, you’ll enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it for you. Let’s see if I meet your expectations!

Words: 3,290.

Summary: “Man is the only animal whose desires increase as they are fed; the only animal that is never satisfied.” Primitive desires and the vital need to feel are not often accompanied by compassion or loyalty, and the fight to win breaks down the walls that protected the urge to give into denied passions.

( The_Conqueror )

So I don't rant too often. But... what the hell? FRANCE?! Beat BRAZIL?! That's so wrong, and upsetting, and Ronaldo, my goodness gracious! Oh my, oh my, oh my. I don't think I've ever watched a game with such an angry fevor until this game came on today. Joe and I were right upset when France scraped by with one point, and Brazil kept just missing. Oh my gosh! For the longest time, the longest time ever! They've lost! BRAZIL LOST TO FRANCE.

It's the end of the world as we know it.

Leah: "Ever since the Pope died, it's been like the apocolypse."
Me: "Leah... you're not Catholic."
Leah: "So?"

...Grr! Portugal better win, or I'm swearing off soccer.
(not really.)

I got rid of my xanga, my myspace, my hi5, and soon I'll get rid of my hoverspot account too. It's better to just have this impersonal journal in which no one reads and I can just type my feelings. So, this way, I don't have to worry about feedback and things like that, and I can use real names and no one would ever know the difference because no one reads this, and that makes me unbelievably happy. So, onto a new beginning! (:

Blaise/Hermione/Draco fic for ya. It's NC-17, though, folks. Be careful.

(: Enjoy.

( Beltane Bash )

So I've been to two parties within these past two days. Yesterday was Elise's, which was a whole lot of fun. I danced a bit, ate some really great food, and had loads of fun just sitting, talking, and spending time with my friends. And of course, I got to spend time with Chris, so that's always a plus for me. And spending time with my friends is really something I treasure... I don't know if I'd do as well as I do without them. They're all amazing...

But tonight I got that awful feeling. The one that sits at the base of your stomach, growling, angry, and disappointed; reminding me that I'm still on the outskirts at times. I feel so out of place sometimes, and I feel like I'm better out there. But not. I hate that alone feeling I get every so often... that feeling that in all truthfulness, I'm not accepted. At all. And it bothers me.

Ugh.

It bothers me a lot. I hate feeling alone. I hating feeling out of place. I hate feeling like people would rather be with other people, other people besides me.

But, someday that will change.

I guess I could also say I missed Chris a lot tonight. Not because he would have danced with me (he wouldn't've) and not because he would've talked to me a lot (because he'd probably be talking with his other friends) but knowing he was there would have made my night.

A lot.

--Aleey--

I've got a Hermione - Blaise story for all you little chitlin's out there. (Not that anyone reads this thing.)

( Regular and Real )

Enjoy, I hope. (:

1. Name:
2. Date of birth:
3. Where you live:
4. What makes you happy:
5. Currently listening/the last thing you listened to:
6. Do you read my journal?:
7. If yes, what makes it especially good or bad?:
8. An interesting fact about you:
9. Are you in love/do you have a crush at the moment?:
10. Favourite place to spend time:
11. Favourite lyric:
12. The best time of the year:

RECOMMEND
1. A film:
2. A book:
3. A band, a song, or album:

PLUS
1. One thing you like about me:
2. Two things you like about yourself:
3. Look at my friends-list and tell what you like about one of our mutual friends:
4. Put this in your journal so that I can tell you what I like about you.

Who knew that my stomach would knot like this again. Who knew that my heart would bound in hurt and anguish. Who knew that I would melt and fall and feel empty after what I considered to be moving on. Who knew? Who knew that you could still do this to me - still make my body quiver, my fingers shake, my head whorl with memories, thoughts, worries, and ideas. Who knew. Who knew! Who knew that you would drive me insane, and leave me believing that someday things would happen, even though they won't. Who knew. Who knew I'd feel blood-shot in my soul, empty-handed in my heart. I thought I was over this - over this vindictive feeling - this residual pain - this infliction of cyncism. But apparently I'm not - apparently I still yurn, and churn, because baby, your cold eyes can burn, but then rebound - and I find myself desolate under your penetrating gaze and your heartless, careless phrases. Who knew that wanting your happiness, would drive me insane.

Huh, who knew?

I just want you. And I can't tell you why, or for how long it will last, but what I do know is I want you, and I can't have you because you don't love me. Damnit, I wish you just stop making me feel like this - like I'm helpless. It's insane. I can't believe I still feel this way.

I am sick of being love-struck, star-gazed, and head over heels. I'm sick of feeling helpless because you're not around. I'm sick of feeling completely and utterly baffled because you don't feel the same way anymore. I'm sick of you. I'm sick of you, taking up my time, taking up my thoughts, taking up all of the feelings in my heart, taking up every single emotion that leaps to words in my mouth. I'm sick of fawning over you, when you don't know it, when you don't care, and when you, more importantly, don't want or realize it. You've made me feel alone, empty, and disregarded... and you seemed to simply have lifted the weight you had on your shoulders - our relationship - and put it onto mine uncaringly. I wish you'd had the faith I had. I wish you'd had the belief in us that I had. I wish you'd loved me. I wish you hadn't given me false hope, a false dream, a feeling that maybe for once things would work out longer than a measley amount of time. I wish I wasn't secure with you, happy with you, able to enjoy life more knowing you were there. Because then, maybe life wouldn't feel like it was ending.

I know I'm overreacting, I don't need pity, and I don't want any stupid apologies.

I'm tired of my tears turning from tears of shock to tears of pain. I'm tired of seeing the little things and smiling, and then desperately trying to distract myself. I'm tired... tired because you've exhausted me.

Forget you knew me, know me, cared about me. I'd rather be completely rejected than endured for sake of pity.

I'm sick of wishing I didn't feel. I know pity and stupid apologies. I'm tired of trying to forget.

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I think there must be something wrong with me. Today was a fine day. Simply fine. Nothing went wrong, I saw all of my friends in school, didn't have any problems in class, didn't get in trouble with anyone or anything... yet for some reason, as Choral Council ended, and as I ended up sitting on Elliot waiting for Danny to give me a call to let me know when he was home, I sunk into this deep-rooted, undecipherable depression. And I haven't any clues as to why this depression has been created. It's actually very scary. But everyone seems to notice this sudden change. My mom heard it on the phone, then saw it in person. Dad saw it. Peter noticed it. Joe heard it on the phone. I don't, in anyway, understand this...

It's very distubring. And I hate it.

What. The hell. Is wrong with me.