Hello again,

— this is something new.

 Under the watchful cover of a Georgian spring moon, two pairs of eyes flashed brightly in the darkness, looking into one another with a tone that could be only loving.

“I’m telling you,” she started with a giggle, “I am getting so old I can’t remember your name, much less mine!”

The sly graze of his eyes in her direction signaled her unfortunate play on words. Damn it, she scolded herself, rolling her eyes at his next words with a shake of her head. Too easy.

“I’ll make you remember my name,” Josh spoke at last, moving his hand from where it rested comfortably on her stomach to the top of her right shoulder. In the dark, Amanda raised her eyebrow but it was lost to the pitch black, so she could only giggle to relieve her nervousness. Even when his words have the most carefree meaning behind them, it still made her spine shiver; one day, one hour, maybe even tonight, there was going to come a time where he was serious, and a rebellious (big) part of her couldn’t wait for it. She couldn’t wait for him to ooze that cocky confidence that he hid deep in himself, knowing that the little girl inside her waiting to be tamed would eat it up.

“Uh-huh,” she muttered so that she didn’t have to verbally respond, but her body turned sideways toward him, and her feet brush against his ankles. It was touching him, smelling the boy scent off his skin and clothes and feeling what it felt like against her fingertips – that is what she loved the most. It would also be the memory she clung to most once he was gone.

A few stray pieces of hair fell onto her face as she moved, and he touched two fingers, sweeping them up and behind her ear, to tuck it back into place. Soft sighs escaped from both their breaths at the same time. He was the one to laugh this time.

“You’re hair’s gotten longer,” Josh mused, rubbing the ends of a strand between his fingers gingerly before laying it back on her shoulder. His proximity and his breath softly moving just below her neck was making her heart jump and smack against her ribcage, but Amanda remained silent, even as he brought two of his fingers down against her side. Her reflex was to shy away from a man touching anywhere near her stomach or legs, but this was Josh; he said he loved her, and she had finally allowed herself to believe that maybe he was telling the truth. This wasn’t going to be another screw up. This was her Josh, and he was tied into too many aspects of her life now for her to feel that self-conscious around him.

His hand flattened out against the dip in her side again before it moved up and over her hip, and curled gently around her upper thigh. As it moved, he rubbed in small circles slowly, creating a massaging effect that did wonders to her comfort level. She wanted to kiss him. But with her eyes closed, her mouth perched in a near purr after his hand began its path, she could neither see or sense him.

Kiss me, her body said. Her hand wrapped over his bicep, squeezing a little, as his hand dropped lower down her thigh, only grazing the inside near her knee before it pulled back up to her hip. Amanda wasn’t sure about his breathing, but she was so sure that her own was beginning to sound like panting. Not that he would mind that, she though playfully, and that idea made her open her eyes.

His bright blue eyes were moving over her face thru the dark lighting of her room, looking at her hair spread out on her pillow, and the lower lip that was caught painfully between her teeth. She’d once told him it was a nervous habit – did he remember that?

She gulped.

“What are you thinking?” she asked nervously, scooting her torso even closer, and maybe moving her hips just a little bit closer to his too. One of her feet moved up his ankle and settled her calf between his. It was intimate. It was nerve-wracking.

Josh shrugged, smiling in that way she loved so much that showed all his teeth. It wasn’t just his smile she loved. He had become the sole beneficiary to her romantic interest, and she could feel her mind and heart both falling in love with him.

“I was just thinking how much I love being here right now.” His left hand cradled the side of her face briefly and dropped down to her neck. It forced most of the silent breath of her lungs. “How much I like being able to just lay here with you without all the motives and drama outside.” Both their eyes flicked toward the ceiling, where her mom and step-dad lay side-by-side, grouchy and oblivious to any real concept of love between them. It was sad, really, but she could think of nothing else but him when he was connected to her by so many points of skin. Her tank top suddenly felt like nothing, her drawstring pajama pants like high-cut shorts that left nothing to the imagination.

“I love you,” she whispered, emboldened by his presence. His breath did that little stutter thing that made her think she might have done something right, and his eyes closed for a second. Feeling even more brave from his lack of response, she pulled herself up so that they were more face to face. After so many months, there was nothing that separated the two of them but a few wisps of air. Amanda brought a hand up to each side of his face and smoothed her thumbs across his cheekbones.

“Hey,” she said softly. When his eyes opened, she continued, “Believe me?”

He needed to see it, to see the love that shone in her eyes when he wasn’t even around. He needed to understand that she didn’t see him as he saw himself – as something undeserving of the things she wanted to give him – because when he was gone he needs to know without a drop of doubt that someone out there thought he was beautiful, funny, crazy, and loved him for all of it.

There was clear hesitation in his voice when he mumbled, “Sometimes…”

She shook her head.

“Please believe me.”

And with a breath that smelled entirely of him, she pushed forward and swept her lips up against his.




Now with this ring, I promise that I’ll be
faithful and true, devoted to you through it all.
And I’ll gladly be your one and everything
right by your side, a shoulder when you cry if you fall.
And I love you more with every day that ends,
it’s like I’m falling in love over and again.

You’re everything that my life’s been missing
and now I can’t believe this is happening to me.
Through the good, and bad, the happy, and the sad
you won’t be away from home, you’ll never be alone
from LA to Rome.

I couldn’t dream a better life,
without you right there by my side.

Sometimes the little girl in me just breaks through and attaches herself to songs like this one, “From LA to Rome”  by Chester See. It’s mainly used for weddings and anniversary parties, because of it’s ubber-cheesiness and comments on rings and devotion. I started the quote from my favorite part in the song “Now with this ring…”; I think I love that part so much because I’m driving toward marriage with my life. Though I still cannot fathom anyone dealing with my shit for the years it takes to engage, and then the decades after through marriage, a girl can still dream.

I may have actually changed my thoughts about becoming a mother. I had a conversation with my step-grandfather, who I just call granddaddy, and I’m not sure if he knew how powerful his words struck me, but when he spoke of me being a good mother, and the beautiful power I’d feel just when that baby is born, it reminded me of his late wife, and I had to blink back tears. I miss Becky, grandmamma, a lot, especially when I spend time with him. She was litereally the center of his world, as he took care of her for most of her life due to her hearing and sight problems, and with her gone it’s like his gravity has been thrown out of whack. He was her satellite, and now, without her holding him here, I worry about him a lot. How do you live healthily through the rest of your days when your reason for being dies?

Believe it or not, I hadn’t meant for this post to seem so sad. My mood is actually the opposite: In the past five weeks, I have smiled, laughed, and thought about more positive things than I ever have in my life. And, ha, because you know me so well wordpress, you know it’s because of a boy. Well, that boy. He just gets me in ways my mother of 18 years doesn’t, and he speaks words that just leave me…baffled. How could someone feel that way about me? I mean me. Maybe I just have self-esteem issues to battle, but I adore all these things about him. Devin — that’s his name if I have not already introduced him to you — is worth going through all the bad “relationships” in the past. He is goofy and makes me laugh, he’s just a beautiful person, inside and out. Definitely out. I’m a sucker for the eyes, and his blue ones? Oy..

This has been a year of firsts for me, some completely heartbreaking, and others, like this relationship I’m on the cusp of, completely wonderful.

To my little wordpressers out there: keep your music cranked up, your hearts open, and your eyes sharp.

I love you,


The school year is over, and it’s now time for us teenagers to start our full-time jobs (if we hadn’t already), get motivated, and for us graduates to prepare for college in the Fall. I feel illy unprepared for the latter — I have sent out applications, but I’m not 100% sure that I’ve met all the requirements on the main Uni I want to be accepted into.

I’m scheduled to work tomorrow, wordpress, but as for the time  I have no clue. So I have to wake up at 4am and call my manager, just in case they need me at 5am. This is going to really suck if they need me at 6 or 7am, because that gives me just enough time to fall back asleep, and wake up all over again. But that’s what I get for not calling the past three days and checking the schedule ahead of time. *shrug* The past can’t be changed.

Oh, and on a completely unrelated topic, I wanted to share a quote with you guys from a book I just finished:

The sorrowful spirit finds relaxation in solitude. It abhors people, as a wounded deer
 deserts the herd and lives in a cave until it is healed or dead.

I know it’s a little strange towards the end. The author is Kahlil Gibran, a Lebanese man from the 1950s, and he’s brilliant when it comes to imagery and loves loves loves metaphors and similes. The ‘deer’ is just an example.  The book is “The Broken Wings”

I adored this quote because it explains a little bit about me, a sorrowful spirit. I am naturally sorrowful, though I can still be happy and plenty of other adjectives at times, but I do abhor people and relax into the solitude of my room, or the woods. I always have.

Just thought it was neat how fitting this quote was for me.

Me vs. the Summer

Round One.

Some things you should know about me, I like to walk barefoot in the sunshine, I like to run through the woods ’till my heart hurts, it’s pounding so fast; I want to spend every day outside, under bright blue skies, with a breeze and a chorus of mockingbirds ringing in my ears. We have so many around here — if you know where to look.

I love the smell of lavendar and fresh honeysuckles blooming on each side of the Georgian road. My senses pick up on things like this and I’m transformed back into a little girl in my parents’ front yard. Back when my parents were still together. Back when my sisters were involved in my life, and graduating high school seemed forever away. I’ve changed a lot since then, — hell, I have changed a lot since last year (:

In fact, there’s apparently a change going on in me right now that crept up on me. I’ve had friends ask me what was different, what had changed: I tell them the truth, because I can’t deny it and, of course, I don’t want to.

My ex-“boyfriend”, David, who after only talking to me for 10 minutes, asked do you love him?
Scared the hell out of me.
But a part of me, the specific part that keeps him in my mind half the day, has reserved a lot of feelings for him. I can keep them all to myself, well myself and you, wordpress, until he is physically here and I can see how he responds. But love? Me?!

I’m not saying I’m going off and marrying him tomorrow — Lord knows I’m not ready to do that with anyone, any time in the near future. But the possessive feeling is there, the lust is there, and more importantly, the care is there. I care for someone more than I can let on, because he’s a guy, and because he doesn’t want this to move any faster than it already is. Once again, Miss Rational inside me must agree with him. I am the one who has had a long distance relationship before, but I am also the one that was hurt by it. So I don’t think he understands that I am “reluctant” too. But somehow, Miss Rational has been bullied by Mrs. I Don’t Care. (:

Don’t you love my analogies? *cue cheeky grin*

So, anyway. the Summer. It’s coming fast, and I want it to run back to wherever the hell it came from. Swimming and playing outdoors (yes, I’m in my late-teens, and yes, I still play outside) is nice ‘n all, but I need a cool sanctuary to relax in with my jackets and long sleeves. Tank tops and bathing suits are not my fashion.

Reasonably, Mother Nature is on my side with the weather. She has been fighting it here in the South too. The past few weeks we would have three days of violent, scorching heat, and then two where it either rained, or the wind blew so hard you couldn’t keep anything tied down. I love those days the most. Wind is power; a power is awesome to watch act itself out.

I want to start writing poetry again, but I need my inspiration. If I were to write right now, my main topics would include my post-graduation Fears, my Longing, or my Frustration with my music. So. I’m going to put it off for a little bit, and if I can actually come up with something decent on Love or even Lust, I’ll let you guys know (:

Questions, comments, concerns?
Here’s my weekly song quote, and also what I’m #nowplaying. This quote has a lot of power, but I think it’s in the way his voice ends it.

“Can you feel my trigger hand
moving further down your back
When you hide,
hide inside that body,
but just remember that when I touch you
the more you shake,
the more you give away…”

( Evans Blue )

Paint It Black. Oh, and Pink.

No one will ever see
This side reflected
And if there’s something wrong
Who would have guessed it
And I have left alone
Everything that I own
To make you feel like
It’s not too late
It’s never too late
– Never Too Late (Three Days Grace)

Sorry wordpress, it has been a little while — I’ve gone longer, but I have wanted to post the past week, I just didn’t have the opportunity, and I didn’t know what to say. My grandmomma, Becky, my stepfather’s mother, had a heart attack on the way to the hospital with my granddaddy, Buddy, where her heart stopped for quite a few minutes. They were able to resucitate her once she was taken in to the doctor’s care, but her heart continued to fail three more times that day, and by the next morning she was on full lifesupport, with high blood pressure – inducing medicine keeping her heart functioning. This was last Monday, April 19th, and she finally passed away on April 21st, after her organs just gave up on her. In my opinion, Becky was dead before she reached the hospital. Her body may have been functioning for another day and a half, but with the lack of oxygen, the doctor’s doubted there would be any brain activity, and something in me tells me that her soul had left when she was put into the car with Buddy.

The mourning and the grief has since passed, though I still find myself looking up and getting a little teary-eyed once a day or so, but I have come to terms with her death. Death is easy — her life was harder. This was the women who fought colon cancer for years, had an eye disease that made her all but 100% blind, and her hearing was bad from birth. She was in a lot of pain, and it’s comforting to know that she doesn’t have to hurt anymore. We buried her next to her parents, next to the open site where Buddy will join her whenever fate or God decides to let him go. It was a beautiful ceremony, with many flowers and adoring relatives, even some church members who didn’t know Becky, but came to support the family; one niece of Bec’s sung “In the Arms of An Angel” – by Sarah McLachlan. They listed me among the grandchildren, even though I was technically not blood-related, and that brought me to tears quicker than anything.  Good tears though, not the bad ones.

Closure. I guess that’s what I have. I won’t remember her as someone hooked up to all of those machines, or someone in great sickness — I can remember her as a sweet, caring grandmother who would do anything in her power to make someone smile, and who loved all of her family very much. Wow, how hard that was to type. The bare truth.

Now I’m moving on with my life, just presented my Senior Project last night thanks to wonderful help from my friends and… others. (: I wasn’t nervous going into the presentation room, but once I was around all my friends and saw how nervous they were, a knot in my stomach formed and I started thinking “should I be reacting that way?” But the only place my nerves showed was in my voice at the very beginning, and I slipped in some humor so that I could lighten up a bit. The judges actually helped me by asking good questions at the end, and my principal, Dr. Fraker, helped as well. Out in the hallway before I had to present, she said this: “Remember, every person in there is rooting for you to do a good job. They’re not out to hurt you, so you should relax and be proud of what you have accomplished. This is just the final stage.” I thought about that during my speech, and I barely had to look at my notecards, if only to keep myself on track. The fact that I knew two of the other students I was in a room with helped a little too, even if I didn’t know them well.

So with that stresser done and over with, all I have left now is to get accepted in to college. I know some might not believe me, but there is a real chance that I might not get accepted anywhere but a junior college or something small nearby. I know that I can’t get into anywhere out of state, but I have to give a few like KSU, Valdosta,  and Georgia State a try. Who knows? I might get lucky, or I might get a really trustful Dean who will ignore my 3.0 GPA and focus on my interview, or the way I can conduct myself. Or my spotless disciplinary record. Or the commitment I have put into my journalism (yearbook) class three of my four years. My AP and Honors classes should be taken into account too.

(: I am not extremely worried right now, but I want to go to college. It’s never really been an option; it’s always been something I have to do so that I don’t disappoint myself or my family.

My best friend Katrina and I are planning a trip to Wisconsin. Want me to be honest? We’re going to see a boy. Her boy. I won’t call him her boyfriend because, well, they’re complicated, and I completely understand that. He doesn’t want to rush into anything because of the distance and the fact that they’ve never had much communication offline. Or …any, actually. Never exchanged phone numbers, although she’s offered. And there is a pretty significant age difference — 10 years. You wouldn’t know it by seeing him though. I’ve seen him on webcam, and he is just her type – – perfect for her, really, in intelligence (he’s a scientist-in-training, on his 8th year of college), confidence, and wit. He earns everything he gets, and she loves that. She thinks I don’t understand, but I do.

I am going with her for 1) moral support, 2) so that she’ll have someone with her up there besides just him, and because 3) I have always wanted to visit the north. It’s a 16 hour drive, gonna cost me a little under $1,000, probably, but it’s worth it if I can see her experience some genuine happiness. Plus I think it’ll bring us a little closer together – haha, if that’s possible – and it’ll give me a whiff of being free and on my own. One downside it that I’ll probably have to lie to my parents about our motive, and who we’re traveling with (no one, but they can’t know that). We want to go in July, and I will have my license by then, but I will not be 18. Legally my parents will still have control over me, despite my being graduated from college. But I think if I word it just right and leave out a few details, they will happily let me go. It’s mainly just my mom. She’s not ready for me to grow up yet…

I think I have to go now, wordpress, but I will make posting a common thing again. I have my spark back (:  And I am determined to keep it.



I would believe if it were to be true.

If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have no love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices within the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when perfection comes, imperfection disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.
1 Corinthians 13:1-13

I would like to believe that I watch movies like The Notebook, A Walk To Remember, Twilight, and Armageddon because I am a “hopeless romantic” and I like to watch the passionate love stories of others. But I’ve come to terms with myself on countless occasions, whether in the quiet sanctity of my mind, or out loud, where, still, no one can hear me.
I cannot tell anyone for they will surely think me madd, or emotional, of which I’m not sure is worse. I am not madd. My emotional stability is fine. I’m not going to become a jumper and go find a highrise somewhere just because I’ve come to terms on how certain aspects of life might not ever appeal to me.
I think I believe that love can happen for others. Love is such a typical term used amongst hormone-crazed teens and savage romance novelists, because true love, as I’ve mentioned before, cannot be seen through fascionation &/or lust.
Epic true love, that of fairytales and Hollywood movies, might just be between someone, somewhere, in existance. I can accept that, I can fathom that just as much as I can fathom another species of intelligent life somewhere on a far galaxy trillions of lightyears away from us here on Earth. They are of equal likelihood.
But epic love will not ever happen for me. I feel that, for some reason, I am unlovable in the romantic, passionate, heart-aching, earth-shaking, dazzling way that I need. If I was to find love in someone, that man, yes man, I cannot love a b o y, I would have to capture their very heartbeat, they would have to mean so much to me, and I to them, that I couldn’t stand it.
I just do not think that kind of spectacular emotion could exist inside me. It has nothing to do with my looks, or how I act half the time, or where I’m from; a person seeking love cares little about those things, because as it says in Corinthians, love cares nothing at all about pride, and it is patient.
I need someone to be so incredibly patient with me, and kind; someone to respect my very traditional values and take them into their own heart ( someone that may share the same views as me, and respect anything and everything that I choose in that matter ); I will fail them: I am not perfect, so I need that endeared one to accept me for every flaw, and catch me, hold me, when I so desperately need it most.
There are just some things family cannot do for you. If I cry myself to sleep because of all the hurdels I’m facing every day, family cannot be there beside me in the morning to just hug me and tell me not to worry about it, that everything will get better because they won’t allow it to go wrong. Family cannot make me feel butterflies, and chills, and goosebumps, and heart flutters; they cannot dazzle me and be on my mind every moment of the day and night. They cannot fill my dreams with such pleasant feelings that cancel out all the negatives – – and even though I feel like I need that so incredibly much, I can never feel it. My soul might want it, but this body is not capable of producing such an emotion to draw love in; how am I supposed to be a good enough person to attract a kindred soul from this wide world? How do you do that, attract your soulmate, for lack of a better term, without being publicized or smacking your face on a billboard?
I can’t imagine anyone thinking me special enough to propose to, or to marry and say “I do” with a smile on their face and tears in their eyes…I just can’t see it, because I almost know it’s not there.

I say all this because I am no naiive teenager. My grandmother called me an old soul once, because of how aware I am of who I am, what I can accomplish, and what I cannot.

People say “Believe and the world could be yours!” Really? Believe and you can cheat death? Believe in yourself strong enough, and you’re just going to fly off to Neverland with your best friend & lover & soulmate (all the same person, I’m presuming) ?
Who the hell came up with that. I am self-aware, self-taught in so many things. I would believe in love for myself if it were to ever have a possibility of being true.

Remember what I said about not being able to tell anyone about this. See what I mean?

what I want & what I believe.

My friends & I were talking the other day about “love“. I told them that I didn’t believe in it, receiving  a collective gasp about the room. “How can you not believe in love?!” they said. “That’s like heresy!”

I believe in the subjective love you receive from your Father, your parents, your family — but that isn’t the storybook, head-over-heels, Cinderella story, murin beatha dan compassion & infinite loyalty and heat that love supposedly is. Show me a couple that is in true, true love, and I will show you a fairytale. A good friend of mine had a theory: love has avoided me. It’s “out there”, as he might say. But I have neither seen it, nor experienced it, so how am I supposed to know?

Sure, I’ve seen and witnessed LUST, and FASCINATION. Fascination I’ve experienced myself and confused it with “liking”, or “pursuing”; and lust…well, I think everyone develops lust for a few members of the population, especially when you’re a teenager, but whether you act upon those feelings of attraction is stricly up to your moral code. My code says no, no action — and I haven’t. Per se.

I think two people can fight with each other, pull each other through some seriously hard times, befriend on another, be caught up (fascinated) with one another, be loyal, be jealous & protective, or envious; but “in l.o.v.e”? Yet to be proven.

Don’t comment me and say “Blahh, you’re just pessimistic & asking for attention,” because honestly I don’t think barely anyone reads this blog. If I wanted attention I’d put it on MySpace or something. I just want to ask for some accounts, or witness statements of when you’ve seen true love. No childish scenes of gazing into each other’s eyes. I mean the kind of love you see in Nicholas Sparks novels & Jane Austen flicks, or even in Stephenie Meyer’s books; the kind of love that you will die for to protect and savor. No one seems to get those feelings anymore & that’s kind of sad.

What do I want? I want a guy that can be chilvarous at times and not think I’m going to go all “feminist” on him; I want a guy that can star-gaze with me, & listen to awesome music without throwing my bands under the bus; I want a guy that isn’t going to boss me around and try to act like my dad, but who wants to protect me and keep me from harm, whether it be emotional or physical; I want someone with manners and a lick of dignity; I want a man that can be my best friend, someone who cracks me up and enjoys just spending time with me without expecting someone, but who can also be my companion & my partner.
What do I believe? I believe the sun should never set upon an argument; I believe we place out happiness in other people’s hands; I believe that junk food tastes so good because it’s bad for you; I believe your parents did the best job they know how to do; I believe that beauty magazines promote low self esteem; I believe in Karma, what you give is what you get returned; I believe the grass is no more greener on the other side; I believe you don’t know what you’ve got until you say goodbye;  I believe you can’t control or choose your sexuality; I believe that trust is more important than monogomy; I believe your most attractive features are your heart and soul; I believe that family is worth more than money or gold; I believe that struggle for financial freedoms is unfair — I believe the only ones who disagree are millionaires; I believe that wedded bliss negates the need to be undressed I believe forgiveness is the key to your own happiness.(Affirmation – Savage Garden)