My mother always told me I had golden locks that shone brighter than the sun. She berkata I was destined for unimaginable things.
I told her I didn't believe it.
Bobby told me I was beautiful and could outdo Katy Perry anyday.
I told him to go take a hike.
Kelly told me I was the most innocent, sweetest thing in the world.
I told her I threw my brother's boxers out the window yesterday.
I didn't believe a word of anything they said. People say stuff they don't mean, and when you're gullible enough to believe it, they drop you, dusting their hands off with ease, and anda land in a faceplant and menanggung, bear a scar the rest of your life. And everyone can see it. The way I play the game is selamat, peti deposit keselamatan and cautious. Quietly. Carefully, so to ensure no one knows I'm here. No one else play the game that way.
But I do.
My name is Cate Gregston. And I'll sweep anda right off anda feet before anda know what hit you. Be careful.
My sensitivity is a ticking bomb. It's been ticking for fourteen and a half years, waiting for just the right moment to go off. The bit of bad boy atau bad girl in you, just waiting to unleash everything it's got. And when someone presses the button, it explodes, and hell breaks right out of the ground. I always wonder what hell would be doing if it set up it's headquarters on Earth, what the devil would be doing, snatching whatever for his own good. I wonder what heaven would be doing if it lived on Earth and broke out of the sky, what God and Jesus would be doing to help the unfortunate.
Am I unfortunate?
Yes I am.
I'm with the heads. The gangster part of the pyramid. Way at the bottom, just above the hobos. The ghetto part of town. The joint where pickpocketers swipe your jewelry before anda can say tacos. The place where smoke is the only oxygen there. The part where anda better master a serigala, wolf glare to warn everyone to stay away. And if anda don't, you'll be spending the time that was supposed to be a vacation playing Keep Away with your pretty little diamonds. Those jalan kids will grab anything. Take anything. LongJohn held a kid for ransom, just to get a loaf of bread. IzzWhiz got himself drunk and received hospitality from an elderly couple, who bought his story that his parents drugged him and felt sorry for him. BernieJack snuck in the back of a hunter's truck to see if there was any scrap, atau what anda call food.
And me?
I mencuri from Harry's Drugstore for some cheese.
Hey, everyone's bad, right?
But my part of town shows it. Some say we're not bad. We're desperate. Hungry. And I have to admit, that is kind of the case. But snobs with their noses turned up and nails manicured everyday, like Jessie Harisson, believes we're just a bunch of wild, angry rats.
Do I believe it?
Sometimes.
anda can't depend on anybody where I'm from. Not even Little Joe, who's five. The homeless will put on their puppy-dog faces and you'll give them a loaf of bread. They'll gobble it down in two bites, run, and you'll look at your shoulder and anda pocket. And anda find your dompet, beg tangan atau wallet is gone.
Everyone stays away. But we're starving. We need help. Sure, we steal, but if anda call the police around my territory, they'll shrug and say, "Get a new one."
No one notices us.
But we're still here.
I'm still here.
I told her I didn't believe it.
Bobby told me I was beautiful and could outdo Katy Perry anyday.
I told him to go take a hike.
Kelly told me I was the most innocent, sweetest thing in the world.
I told her I threw my brother's boxers out the window yesterday.
I didn't believe a word of anything they said. People say stuff they don't mean, and when you're gullible enough to believe it, they drop you, dusting their hands off with ease, and anda land in a faceplant and menanggung, bear a scar the rest of your life. And everyone can see it. The way I play the game is selamat, peti deposit keselamatan and cautious. Quietly. Carefully, so to ensure no one knows I'm here. No one else play the game that way.
But I do.
My name is Cate Gregston. And I'll sweep anda right off anda feet before anda know what hit you. Be careful.
My sensitivity is a ticking bomb. It's been ticking for fourteen and a half years, waiting for just the right moment to go off. The bit of bad boy atau bad girl in you, just waiting to unleash everything it's got. And when someone presses the button, it explodes, and hell breaks right out of the ground. I always wonder what hell would be doing if it set up it's headquarters on Earth, what the devil would be doing, snatching whatever for his own good. I wonder what heaven would be doing if it lived on Earth and broke out of the sky, what God and Jesus would be doing to help the unfortunate.
Am I unfortunate?
Yes I am.
I'm with the heads. The gangster part of the pyramid. Way at the bottom, just above the hobos. The ghetto part of town. The joint where pickpocketers swipe your jewelry before anda can say tacos. The place where smoke is the only oxygen there. The part where anda better master a serigala, wolf glare to warn everyone to stay away. And if anda don't, you'll be spending the time that was supposed to be a vacation playing Keep Away with your pretty little diamonds. Those jalan kids will grab anything. Take anything. LongJohn held a kid for ransom, just to get a loaf of bread. IzzWhiz got himself drunk and received hospitality from an elderly couple, who bought his story that his parents drugged him and felt sorry for him. BernieJack snuck in the back of a hunter's truck to see if there was any scrap, atau what anda call food.
And me?
I mencuri from Harry's Drugstore for some cheese.
Hey, everyone's bad, right?
But my part of town shows it. Some say we're not bad. We're desperate. Hungry. And I have to admit, that is kind of the case. But snobs with their noses turned up and nails manicured everyday, like Jessie Harisson, believes we're just a bunch of wild, angry rats.
Do I believe it?
Sometimes.
anda can't depend on anybody where I'm from. Not even Little Joe, who's five. The homeless will put on their puppy-dog faces and you'll give them a loaf of bread. They'll gobble it down in two bites, run, and you'll look at your shoulder and anda pocket. And anda find your dompet, beg tangan atau wallet is gone.
Everyone stays away. But we're starving. We need help. Sure, we steal, but if anda call the police around my territory, they'll shrug and say, "Get a new one."
No one notices us.
But we're still here.
I'm still here.
She crawls into a memory.
She sits, she cries, knees folded up to her chest.
Life is not like it used to be.
Why can't she enjoy life like she did before?
Because she had no life then, no identity.
She was what others told her to be.
She has learned.
She is gaining an identity.
She doesn't know who she is.
She only recently discovered that she didn't know,
That she had no life, no identity.
It's looking for her,
Coming slowly, across the sea.
She fears it will not find her.
It will wander in the darkness,
Searching, but never finding,
Never knowing how close it has come.
And she will never know it, even though she sees it, touches it, tastes it,
She will never be able to embrace it.
She keeps searching for she,
For her place to be,
To belong in this world, and to stand out.
I keep searching for me,
For my destiny,
For my identity.
She sits, she cries, knees folded up to her chest.
Life is not like it used to be.
Why can't she enjoy life like she did before?
Because she had no life then, no identity.
She was what others told her to be.
She has learned.
She is gaining an identity.
She doesn't know who she is.
She only recently discovered that she didn't know,
That she had no life, no identity.
It's looking for her,
Coming slowly, across the sea.
She fears it will not find her.
It will wander in the darkness,
Searching, but never finding,
Never knowing how close it has come.
And she will never know it, even though she sees it, touches it, tastes it,
She will never be able to embrace it.
She keeps searching for she,
For her place to be,
To belong in this world, and to stand out.
I keep searching for me,
For my destiny,
For my identity.
I Cinta writing.
Not because of Fanpop
Not because I am bored
But because of a different reason.
A reason anda might think is strange.
Penulisan
Is my own personal universe
Where I can be creative
Where I can forget all my troubles
And leave Earth behind.
Usually
I use Penulisan to express my emotions
To share what I feel
And why I feel that way.
I can fly away from my friends
On Earth
And explore new universes
Meet new friends
Discover new things
That is why I Cinta writing.
Not because of Fanpop
Not because I am bored
But because of a different reason.
A reason anda might think is strange.
Penulisan
Is my own personal universe
Where I can be creative
Where I can forget all my troubles
And leave Earth behind.
Usually
I use Penulisan to express my emotions
To share what I feel
And why I feel that way.
I can fly away from my friends
On Earth
And explore new universes
Meet new friends
Discover new things
That is why I Cinta writing.
TOADSTEP PVO
Toadstep leapt in his sleep, dreaming about Dovewing and Ivypool...
He ducked behind a belukar, bush and stared out and Bumblestripe and Dovewing purring together and jumoing around, playfully.
Toastep watched in complete awe, wondering why he was spyinngg on Dovewing he whipped around and thrashed a paw at the waiting Ivypool.
He wanted to be the Dovewing and Ivypool the Bumblestripe...
He had to imagine Ivypool as dovewing. He leapt at the imaginary Dovewing and wrestled around with her. Ivypool yowled with somewhat surprise and Toadstep woke up from dovewing's spirit and looked at Ivypool.
"What is it?" He asked dreamily. Still thinking she was Dovewing.
"Toadstep? Are anda okay? I didn't think anda were in Cinta with me so much." Ivypool meowed, suprised.
"Er... I'm sorry for scaring you- I just thought anda were Dovewing. She is tough that's all." Toadstep purred, playfully.
"Toadstep! No!"
Toadstep leapt in his sleep, dreaming about Dovewing and Ivypool...
He ducked behind a belukar, bush and stared out and Bumblestripe and Dovewing purring together and jumoing around, playfully.
Toastep watched in complete awe, wondering why he was spyinngg on Dovewing he whipped around and thrashed a paw at the waiting Ivypool.
He wanted to be the Dovewing and Ivypool the Bumblestripe...
He had to imagine Ivypool as dovewing. He leapt at the imaginary Dovewing and wrestled around with her. Ivypool yowled with somewhat surprise and Toadstep woke up from dovewing's spirit and looked at Ivypool.
"What is it?" He asked dreamily. Still thinking she was Dovewing.
"Toadstep? Are anda okay? I didn't think anda were in Cinta with me so much." Ivypool meowed, suprised.
"Er... I'm sorry for scaring you- I just thought anda were Dovewing. She is tough that's all." Toadstep purred, playfully.
"Toadstep! No!"