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♥ precious.
la bella vita;

Cara

loves: black and white photography. poetry. vintage stores. thunderstorms. good ambience. fairytales. disneyworld. black kohl and fuschia lipstick. red and purple skittles. turquoise beads. icing but not cakes. might-have-beens. the dandy warhols. within temptation. automatic loveletter. mediaeval baebes. troy. interview with a vampire. the oc. making 11:11 wishes. purple glitter. mermaids. my-little-ponies. magic.

expertise: melodramaticks. eyeliner. laughing. goodbyes. hanging in there.

♥ music on, world off.
shh.

soundtrack to life.

♥ scream(?).
live.

♥ past .
instant time travel

December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
May 2009
June 2009
July 2009
August 2009
September 2009
October 2009
November 2009
December 2009
January 2010
February 2010

♥ adieu .
set them free

AMANDA
ANDRE
ASH
DEB
ELEMM
07IP04!
08IP04!
JOSH
KAT
LISA
QIU
RENJEAN


♥ credits .
thankyouverymuch

Designer: 01 02
Image: 03
Hosts: 04 05 06
Brushes: 07 08 09 10
Fonts: 11

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Monday, January 18, 2010
hello, old friend. 7:07 AM

But in the garden of simple where all of us are nameless you were never anything but beautiful to me/
and, you know, they never really owned you./
You just carried them around/
and then one day you put 'em down/
and found your hands were free.
---

It is 11:11 and I'm wondering if wishes count as prayers. 
Does God answer them? Or do they all go to the Tooth Fairy? Or Santa Claus? Britain's all snowed out, so there's no way the North Pole's gonna be getting any reception. 

Thank you for the awfullychocolate today, DWL. And the letters, and the presents. I love you guys!
I don't care if eighteen doesn't feel like eighteen; at least I've got good love.

Whitby, pushing for answers: So... (scritches away on whiteboard)...MAN created MACHINE. And what does MACHINE create that MAN needs? MAN needs.....?
Class: ...
Whitby: Oh come on, you lot. 
Class: ....
Whitby, getting desperate: It starts with a T. 
Lisa: Uh. 
Cara: Uh. 
Whitby, getting reaaaally desperate: "...T....One syllable. T..."
Lisa, tentatively: ..T..in?
Cara, tentatively: ...Toys?
Whitby: *headdesk*


Am currently: working on a SEA History essay outline, catching up with an old friend, drinking hot, sweet tea and listening to the velvet underground. Altogether bearable. If I keep living like this, one day by one day; I AM going to survive this year, dammit.

And on the note of survival- congratulations on making it to 18, Lis. :D 
I've already written you a longass letter, so. I'll keep this short, but you know I love you. 

I wrote a song, today, and I'm glad. It's been ages since I've been able to write anything...though I'm starting to doubt the use of "writer" as a title, seeing as how my pen only ever moves properly when I've got museblood in my veins. So maybe the term "mouthpiece" would be better. 
Mouthpiece to what?
...I don't know. But I kinda wish whatever it was would talk a bit more. I've missed writing.

This is a short, choppy little entry- but hey- it's a start.

...Baby steps. To this. To everything. To now.
Here we go.