Feeds:
Posts
Comments

New Website

Yep, so, I’ve moved to another website O.o

I love this website and, honestly, it’s been through some seriously depressing times with me. Now, though, I want it to look like a beautiful site that I will never regret and that includes relocating.

Sorry WordPress, but I’m using Blogger.

You heard me, my new website is http://torchoffaerie.blogspot.com/ It may not loo like much if you read it RIGHT NOW, but I’m currently on the hunt for templates I love.

If you have a suggesting, you can contact me!

Advertisements

Love Never Conquers

Recently, I’ve been finding old accounts that I made when I was much younger, even as far back as 2006. At the moment, I’m already seventeen. One in particular was a site I made on FreeWebs.com called “Love Never Conquers”. I think it’s more unique to me because of the reason I made it and the content I put on there.

The site was for me to keep track of such things as my poetry, quotes I made up, pictured I found and, well… Mostly that. I think I’ll attempt another site like the one I had before called “Unspoken”, in which I got the name Mme. Unspoken. I even have the codes that I’ve found in the last pages of my many ‘Friends’ folders in my email account. Who knows. First, of course, I need a hosting website. There are several I could go for that I remember using: Xanga, FreeWebs, Blogger, and, the one I’m using now, WordPress. I might use WordPress for the sake of not having to make another account, but who knows. Xanga, I remember, really confused me, never mind pissed me off on several occasions. FreeWebs, I thinks, restricted me and Blogger… Well.

Now that I’m in grade twelve, I can take grade twelve courses, which includes that Writer’s Craft course that I’ve been dying to take since I got to this school. We are using Blogger to respond to the posts and articles that our teacher posts on her own Blogger Blog and we, ourselves as students, may even have to make our own blog.

I’ll try on here and then… We shall see, now won’t we?

Porcelain Hugs

Hugging a porcelain is different from hugging a person, by far.

As a child, and even now as a teen, I have taken comfort in holding my favourite porcelain doll as if she were a person. Why is it, I wonder, that the cold, smooth porcelain is more comforting than a warm embrace?

Looking back on that sentence, I realize it goes against just about ever romance novel out there that describes the hug with someone you care for as extremely warm and safe.

Lifeless blue, glass eyes. Fake blonde curls. Smooth, cold skin.

Far more appealing than the real thing, I’d say.

Escape

I’ve been feeling off lately.

I can’t say that I know why, though. The feeling somewhat comes and goes, you could say. It sort of feels like I shouldn’t be here. Here, where? I don’t know. The town I’m in? The house I’m in? The life I have?

I feel like I should be somewhere else, only I don’t know where that somewhere else is.

Is that something others normally think about? Probably not. Sometimes, at ungodly hours, I would just lay in bed and stare at the ceiling and wonder why it doesn’t feel right.

It’s not like I can say I’m an alien or a witch or a fictional being like in all of those movies we watch. I’m quite positive I’m human, seeing as how I feel pretty human. Granted, how would I know? It’d not as if I have anything to compare to, right?

Alright, now this is going into an odd direction. Aliens? Me? Ugh.

Although, I still can’t shake off the feeling of not fitting into my surroundings. To be honest, I have always felt like that. I’ve always tried to find a way to get away from what I already have. Writing, drawing, singing, music, books. Those were my methods of escape, because, I mean, doesn’t everyone need one? An escape, I mean.

“An escape from what?” is another question. I have no idea.

I really have no idea.

Did You Even Love Me?

It’s back and, again, it won’t leave me alone.

The feeling of utter sadness and loneliness just consumes me whenever I hear this song. But I can’t stop listening.

Sometimes, when I’m listening and thinking, I muse over whether I’m sad and lonely over what actual happened, or rather the feelings that had been left in me. Do I cry because he had lied, or do I cry because I remember that I had cried then?

I know it’s useless to be hung up over something that literately happened four, maybe even five years ago, but it’s still there. The nagging pain of having your heart broken never goes away. Maybe it’s how my heart got broken, because most people get over it. The first love is the deepest. Apparently.

You know, sometimes I want to talk to my friends about it. At the moment, there is only one person I would be comfortable enough to tell, but I haven’t.

There really isn’t a reason not to confide in her, yet there isn’t really a reason to confide in her, either. I’ve only said it to one of my other friends from this town, but that was the basic basics and I had brushed it off with a laugh and a smile. I want to just let it out without holding back, even cry. I know that won’t happen though. Not now anyway.

I was happy, so very happy. I had never been so happy before. And then, after it was all over and everything was out in the open, I broke down. I guess it’s true what they say.

The higher you fly; the harder you fall.

A sweet melody danced through the long grasses of the spacious field. A young girl with hair as dark as night and skin as white and smooth as snow lay amongst the grass, cushioned by the many layers of her honey coloured skirts. Arms sprawled as far away from her tiny body as she could reach, she stared at the soft fluffy clouds as they lazily floated in the clear blue sky above.

Bold, red lips parted and a voice as young and sparkling as chimes filled the air………

Some day my prince will come.
Some day I’ll find my love.
And how thrilling that moment will be
When the prince of my dreams comes to me!

He’ll whisper, ‘I love you’
And steal a kiss or two.

Though he’s far away,
I’ll find my love some day…
Some day when my dreams come true.”

The little girl smiled at her loving tune and proceeded to make a grass crown as she hummed the song again. Not a moment after her earthy crown was finished, a frantic woman in a tattered dress hurriedly made her way across the field. Tripping several times, in which she would be completely hidden from the girl’s view by the tall grasses, she eventually stood in front of the girl.

“Young Miss!” she shrieked with a large huff. “You know full well what Her Majesty will say if she hears of your little adventures beyond the castle walls!”

The young girl lowered her head to stare at the now dull grass crown in her lap. Whimpering slightly, she whispered, “But Maria…No one notices I’m gone, anyway…” A light sniffle was quickly muffled by small hand.

Maria’s eyes softened as she stared down at the young Princess. Heaving a deep sigh, she gathered her skirts in her hands and plopped herself next to the tearful child. Bringing her into a warm hug, she reminded her, “That is not true, my dear. I am here, am I not?”

The Princess buried her face in Maria’s shoulder and whispered, more to herself than Maria, “Only you, Maria, only you…”

Absentmindedly, Maria ran her lean fingers through the Princess’ many dark strands of hair. “Princess…” she spoke with an almost wistful tone.

The Princess in question lifted her head slightly to pear at her caregiver of many years. “Yes, Maria?” she inquired with a slight sniff to ease her runny nose.

“Could you, perhaps,” Maria paused and tilted her head to the side as she stared intently at a small red ladybug who was currently making her way up Maria’s simple, brown shoes, “Could you, perhaps, sing the little melody you were singing before, once again?”

Shining azure eyes stared up at the woman in shock before slowly softening and glancing at the forest at the edge of the clearing. A peaceful smile played along her deep, crimson lips as she seemingly sang to both Maria and the mysterious forest.

“Some day my prince will come.
Some day we’ll meet again.
And away to his castle we’ll go
To be happy forever, I know.

Some day when spring is here,
We’ll find our love anew.
And the birds will sing
And wedding bells will ring,
Some day when my dreams come true…”

As her song slowed to a mere hum, Maria rested her puzzled gaze upon the small Princess in her lap. “’Some day we’ll meet again?”

The Princess giggled, “Why, of course. Again.” Abruptly jumping out of her friend’s hold, she twirled around to face the looming trees not far away. A playful wink was thrown at the forest before she giggled merrily once more before dashing towards the castle. Maria gave a startled cry and promptly ran after her little mistress.

Just on the outskirts of the field, a young boy hid discreetly behind a  large and old oak tree. Having watched the Princess for some time and having listened to her song, he smiled secretively before whispering his own song into the wind.

“One song,
I have but one song.
One song,
Only for you…

One love
That has possessed me.
One love
Thrilling me through…”

Dates Can Go To Hell

Don’t you just hate it when you have a misunderstanding and you get the full blame for it? It always seems to happen that way when I’m dealing with my mother.

I’m a Harry Potter lover and, naturally, I’m going to see Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince on Wednesday. I had told my mom a while ago that I was going to see it on “Wednesday, July the 15th”. Closer to the date, I told her again and, somehow, it was misunderstood that I was going to see it on AUGUST 15th, rather than JULY 15th since we have an event on the same day in August.

After buying the ticket in advanced at the machine, without even looking at the date, my mother said she’d hold onto it until the day of. She come storming in about ten minutes ago, ticket in hand, and asks me to explain why it’s in July and not August.

Stupid question? Very.

We finally sorted out the misunderstanding and she blames me for not reminding her. As she said, if it is not important to her, she will not remember it. The time the misunderstanding took pace, she took the wrong date and held onto that, completely ignoring anything else I said for the remainder few weeks until this day.

So, I’m horrible with dates. I’m sorry.

She doesn’t seem to realize that she clearly said that she doesn’t listen to me at all. As well, she continuously reminds me that I’m “sixteen and should remember to remind” her.

Isn’t she the one that always says, “You are old enough to remember dates”? Well then why does she blame me when SHE can’t remember dates?!

She continued on and on, on how horrible I am with remembering dates and that I need to grow up. Meanwhile, I’m practically killing the touchpad of my laptop as I deepen the pressure of my fingers in a sorry attempt to not hit something or start shouting.

The thing I hate the most? After all the shit she gives me, she has the nerve to ask me, “What? What’s with the blank face?!”

The blank face, my dear, is my way of stopping myself from blowing up. And trust me, you don’t want to see that.

You wouldn’t believe how sinister I can be in my own mind. It’s like I’m a completely different person compared to when I am speaking to people. I make cruel remarks and say things that I would never even dream of saying to someone. I’m actually cold and reserved in my mind.

Is it to make up for the lack of that side of me in the real world? Who knows.