i'm singing. good sign. :) let me tell you a story. in bullets. cause it's what i'm finding out right now.
don't wanna love you if you don't love me.
don't wanna need you when you won't need me too.
don't wanna tell you this now, but it wouldn't be right
if i didn't tell you this tonight.
my name is emilie. i love my name. i love that people are jealous cause their parents gave them ugly names, and mine gave me a beautiful one. i came out of my mom's vagina on may sixteenth, 1994. i've gotten anywhere from looking thirteen years old to looking nineteen years old. i'm fifteen. it means chances are, i'm too young for you. and if i'm not... i'm too old for you, then. it's just how it goes. when i was little, my favorite toys were books. i was used to lots of attention from lots of people. at first, it was good. then i got fat. then it was bad; i'm on the horrible end of being italian. i have an ugly nose, bushy eyebrows, body hair in places women aren't supposed to have hair, love handles and thick thighs... but i'm also german, french and irish. can't complain. ever.
i look just like my paternal grandmother, and she's at 88 with at least two boyfriends still. i'm destined to be hot for the rest of my life.
when the bitches i used to call my friends decided they were too good for me, i decided i'd become too good for them. i can't say that enough, i just like the sound of it. you know what? it worked.
i'm in the process of picking up the pieces of myself that i've been leaving for people to keep walking all over and crushing some more. when all those pieces are picked up, they'll be put into something new and astonishing, i promise you.
but sometimes i still want to kill myself. i want to open up the ugly scars on my leg and just bleed to prove to myself that i'm not as invincible as i sometimes like to think i am. there's this boy. he's slowly changing all of that. (and he's also the only reason i'm typing this, cause he told me to post one.)
my favorite things in the world are probably clean sheets, turtles, crayons, coloring books, and the scent of vanilla. i have my next three tattoos planned out. dancing shapes my life. singing shapes my life. my friends shape my life. i'm almost as scared of death (of myself and the ones i love) as i am of life and the awful things that will happen to us. i love cuddling. i love kisses. i love good hugs. i love my boyfriend.
i hate bad blood with people. but, if i have a problem with you, i'll be the first person to say something. if i like you, i'll be the first person to say something. if i want you dead, i'll make sure you know. so sure that it might just scare you. i scream in peoples faces. if i can't scream in your face or make a joke at you, it means you're on my bad side. whether that means you make me uncomfortable or i'm afraid being in your vacinity will make me slit your throat... depends on you. whoever you are. i'm a nice person. i truly am. but the boy i sit next to in algebra now that mr. kohlreiser is number one on my shit list is scared of me. SCARED! i dislike.
thenthislittle part of thisblogwhere i expect noonereads because itsaboutdansiohfishfd
hello darling. it is seven thirty pm. if anyone is reading this far, it's you. or hayden. hello hayden, you're my best friend. dave albo. spaks inglsh. anyways. i feel as though you should know that you're twice as perfect as you were three seconds ago. cause i said so. ;) it's been ages since i felt like.. i've tripped over every word i said just to leave me hanging, somewhere between really high up and face down on concrete. where everything i say or do is wrong, but you totally make it feel like it was the way it was supposed to be, exactly. you make me giggleee when i kiss you and giggle even harder when you ask me why i'm laughing. it's cause i'm happy silleh. it's causeee you're cute and sweet and you made me blush. feel accomplished. i like you more everytime i talk to you, or hang out with you, and i've been finding myself getting pissssed off at my teachers when, AS SOON AS I GET MY PHONE, they're like, 'emilie what are you doing?!' so i totally slack on texting you. but if i could, i'd be talking to you all day. i can't get enough. and i likes it. :)
i thinks i loves you.
sidhfisf sdfoihsd sfdihsdf sdf hsdf sdf8uypa asdoaid h osama bin laden! is somewhere out there. he's such a smart man.
i'm passionate about green day. i'm also passionate about my hair, eyes, and philosophy. mostly eyes and philosophy, but my hair was the first thing that came to my mind. number one: green day is my favorite. band. ever. i'll give you the lyrics and meaning to any song you could name me. i know all of their real names. i know how they got their stage names. i know billie joe's kids names. i know every tour they've played. i know how they started. i know what kind of underwear billie joe wears. i know anything and everything, just about. you don't disrespect green day in my presence. EVER.
number two: my hair. you don't fuck with my hair. you don't put anything in it, you don't do anything to it without my consent, you don't threaten to cut it. you just don't do it.
number three: i'm fascinated with eyes. i'm a firm believer in them being the window into your soul, your heart and your mind. have you ever looked deeply into someones eyes? you can almost get lost. especially someone you could claim to be in love with, or at least lustful for. they make me speechless sometimes. chances are, more than once, i'll tell you, whoever you are, that i like your eyes. that they're pretty. gorgeous. beautiful. wonderful. cool. whatever. it's a good thing. don't just look at me weird. i have my intentions.
number four: philosophy. my number. one. ever. i'm probably one of the deepest persons you'll ever meet, if only i could put my feelings into words. it's all about drugs. i love marijuana. i love everything about it. i love the way it makes everything in the world make sense. ask my father; when i was high, i discovered the true meaning of true buddhism. when i was high, i realized that my dad found the true meaning of true buddhism while HE was high, back in 1970. the existentialism of everything in my head frightens the balls out of me. i'm constantly thinking of the way we exist. the way the earth just sits in the middle of nothing and everything at the same time. how everything is just a miracle. people who take jewelry boxes apart (yaknow the ones that play the music? with the needles? and wires?) could mess up the entire tune... the way every tiny little needle plucks the exact spot on a wire to make a beautiful sound.. a beautiful song. one little touch could ruin the entire thing. we just need to realize everything is just a miracle. if there could be a better way to put it, i'd put it that way. but there isn't. i can feel it in my heart. it's a good feeling.
you should try it sometime. :)
i fucking. love. life. i fucking love you. i love you. i love you.
"my friend said that whenever there's a new cute scene girl at this school, dan burns always steals them away."
MY HAIR IS GETTING SO LONG.
i have just left you on a very happy note. :)
don't wanna love you if you don't love me.
don't wanna need you when you won't need me too.
don't wanna tell you this now, but it wouldn't be right
if i didn't tell you this tonight.
my name is emilie. i love my name. i love that people are jealous cause their parents gave them ugly names, and mine gave me a beautiful one. i came out of my mom's vagina on may sixteenth, 1994. i've gotten anywhere from looking thirteen years old to looking nineteen years old. i'm fifteen. it means chances are, i'm too young for you. and if i'm not... i'm too old for you, then. it's just how it goes. when i was little, my favorite toys were books. i was used to lots of attention from lots of people. at first, it was good. then i got fat. then it was bad; i'm on the horrible end of being italian. i have an ugly nose, bushy eyebrows, body hair in places women aren't supposed to have hair, love handles and thick thighs... but i'm also german, french and irish. can't complain. ever.
i look just like my paternal grandmother, and she's at 88 with at least two boyfriends still. i'm destined to be hot for the rest of my life.
when the bitches i used to call my friends decided they were too good for me, i decided i'd become too good for them. i can't say that enough, i just like the sound of it. you know what? it worked.
i'm in the process of picking up the pieces of myself that i've been leaving for people to keep walking all over and crushing some more. when all those pieces are picked up, they'll be put into something new and astonishing, i promise you.
but sometimes i still want to kill myself. i want to open up the ugly scars on my leg and just bleed to prove to myself that i'm not as invincible as i sometimes like to think i am. there's this boy. he's slowly changing all of that. (and he's also the only reason i'm typing this, cause he told me to post one.)
my favorite things in the world are probably clean sheets, turtles, crayons, coloring books, and the scent of vanilla. i have my next three tattoos planned out. dancing shapes my life. singing shapes my life. my friends shape my life. i'm almost as scared of death (of myself and the ones i love) as i am of life and the awful things that will happen to us. i love cuddling. i love kisses. i love good hugs. i love my boyfriend.
i hate bad blood with people. but, if i have a problem with you, i'll be the first person to say something. if i like you, i'll be the first person to say something. if i want you dead, i'll make sure you know. so sure that it might just scare you. i scream in peoples faces. if i can't scream in your face or make a joke at you, it means you're on my bad side. whether that means you make me uncomfortable or i'm afraid being in your vacinity will make me slit your throat... depends on you. whoever you are. i'm a nice person. i truly am. but the boy i sit next to in algebra now that mr. kohlreiser is number one on my shit list is scared of me. SCARED! i dislike.
thenthislittle part of thisblogwhere i expect noonereads because itsaboutdansiohfishfd
hello darling. it is seven thirty pm. if anyone is reading this far, it's you. or hayden. hello hayden, you're my best friend. dave albo. spaks inglsh. anyways. i feel as though you should know that you're twice as perfect as you were three seconds ago. cause i said so. ;) it's been ages since i felt like.. i've tripped over every word i said just to leave me hanging, somewhere between really high up and face down on concrete. where everything i say or do is wrong, but you totally make it feel like it was the way it was supposed to be, exactly. you make me giggleee when i kiss you and giggle even harder when you ask me why i'm laughing. it's cause i'm happy silleh. it's causeee you're cute and sweet and you made me blush. feel accomplished. i like you more everytime i talk to you, or hang out with you, and i've been finding myself getting pissssed off at my teachers when, AS SOON AS I GET MY PHONE, they're like, 'emilie what are you doing?!' so i totally slack on texting you. but if i could, i'd be talking to you all day. i can't get enough. and i likes it. :)
i thinks i loves you.
sidhfisf sdfoihsd sfdihsdf sdf hsdf sdf8uypa asdoaid h osama bin laden! is somewhere out there. he's such a smart man.
i'm passionate about green day. i'm also passionate about my hair, eyes, and philosophy. mostly eyes and philosophy, but my hair was the first thing that came to my mind. number one: green day is my favorite. band. ever. i'll give you the lyrics and meaning to any song you could name me. i know all of their real names. i know how they got their stage names. i know billie joe's kids names. i know every tour they've played. i know how they started. i know what kind of underwear billie joe wears. i know anything and everything, just about. you don't disrespect green day in my presence. EVER.
number two: my hair. you don't fuck with my hair. you don't put anything in it, you don't do anything to it without my consent, you don't threaten to cut it. you just don't do it.
number three: i'm fascinated with eyes. i'm a firm believer in them being the window into your soul, your heart and your mind. have you ever looked deeply into someones eyes? you can almost get lost. especially someone you could claim to be in love with, or at least lustful for. they make me speechless sometimes. chances are, more than once, i'll tell you, whoever you are, that i like your eyes. that they're pretty. gorgeous. beautiful. wonderful. cool. whatever. it's a good thing. don't just look at me weird. i have my intentions.
number four: philosophy. my number. one. ever. i'm probably one of the deepest persons you'll ever meet, if only i could put my feelings into words. it's all about drugs. i love marijuana. i love everything about it. i love the way it makes everything in the world make sense. ask my father; when i was high, i discovered the true meaning of true buddhism. when i was high, i realized that my dad found the true meaning of true buddhism while HE was high, back in 1970. the existentialism of everything in my head frightens the balls out of me. i'm constantly thinking of the way we exist. the way the earth just sits in the middle of nothing and everything at the same time. how everything is just a miracle. people who take jewelry boxes apart (yaknow the ones that play the music? with the needles? and wires?) could mess up the entire tune... the way every tiny little needle plucks the exact spot on a wire to make a beautiful sound.. a beautiful song. one little touch could ruin the entire thing. we just need to realize everything is just a miracle. if there could be a better way to put it, i'd put it that way. but there isn't. i can feel it in my heart. it's a good feeling.
you should try it sometime. :)
i fucking. love. life. i fucking love you. i love you. i love you.
"my friend said that whenever there's a new cute scene girl at this school, dan burns always steals them away."
MY HAIR IS GETTING SO LONG.
i have just left you on a very happy note. :)
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