your bed is missing... where'd it go?

It was soon after Edward leaves for his hunting trip with Emmett and Carlisle. Alice suggests a slumber party, but I know Edward had bribed her with that brand new yellow porche hiding in the garage. He would do almost anything to make sure I was out of trouble, after all, I am a danger magnet. Anyway, what was going on with this vampire tracking me and all, I knew he wasn't going to make this any easier for me. As I figured, the only slumber anybody would be doing would be me. Everybody else would keep watch in the night and do their vampire duties. Edward tried to make this hostage situation less over the top, but his attempts failed. I walked into his room to settle for bed. I knew I would be sleeping on his fine leather couch (he didn't own a bed, for he didn't sleep... ever) when I was greeted with a more homey touch than expected. My bed. He had moved my own bed from my own room just to make sure I could really 'make myself at home', so to speak. This is why I was so unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.

'hot wheels'

The night air was cool. It was a long walk home, 10km to be precise. After 10 minutes into our adventure, we found what seemed like a piece of scrap metal on the side of the road. We rummaged past a few boxes and a mower, to find our baby manual treadmill formally known as 'hot wheels'.

It was a beautiful night for a walk with our new baby. Halfway through our trip, there was a huge hurdle we had to jump, literally. Hot wheels wasn't as well as we thought, and collapsed in a heap.

After our mechanic skills and a bit of TLC hot wheels was soon back on the road. There were a few more hurdles along the way and we even lost the wheels/bolts in the process but no we did not give up. We were passed by many police cars and other officialls but were not stopped on our voyage, this proves everybodys faith in us and respect for the new member of the family. Hot wheels, we love you.

and if you think that i'm wrong

This never meant nothing to you.

what of it

So here we go, I am sick of people not taking me seriously. I don't get angry often, and I am not rude, but that shouldn't mean people expect me to be nice all the time. And when I do speak out for myself nobody listens because they take me as a joke. I am not a joke. People have changed. Effort is so much... effort. These days I sit in my room, painting. That is all I do. Paint. I hardly ever talk to/see anybody yet at the drop of a hat I will do anything for any one of you, and I don't get half the recognition I should. I try so so hard, and I don't ever want to stop trying because I couldn't imagine having nothing. I shouldn't be nearly as scared of loss as I am. I know people are going to say 'there are better things to be sooking about' but for christs sake, get fucking real.

this day

Is a day we all hope will never come, but we can't escape it. Plow, plant, harvest, plow, plant. The cycle has ended. I am sick and tired of harvesting. It saddens me to say it but... farmville rip.

chase my thoughts away

To a place where I am blinded by the light.

crème de la crop

Plow, plant, harvest, plow, plant, harvest. My days are filled with the joys of plowing, planting and harvesting my farm and many others. I have thought of making this a serious career. I want to design farms on farmville for the rest of my life.