Poetry Wednesday


Cautious and worrying,

Thinking he doesn’t care.

How the tears inside,

do like to tear,

while my smile stays,

plastered to my face.

The pain never fades,

I regret decisions I never made,

Trying to live a life

in my own new way

but stubbornly fail

and close the gate.





Feelings, thoughts, ideas…

I have to find my relaxing side again, I lost it recently.

So, I’m spending the next six days at the coast so I can find my zen again.

I’m giving myself the week to not worry about homework or anything school related.

Though, it is thanksgiving week and all, but I have a date this friday. I’m excited for it 🙂

Poetry Wednesday


The school yard was quiet,

she and her book were the only two there.

Leaves fell silently as a gentle spring breeze blew them from their home.

She wasn’t really reading though,

it was her safeguard to make sure no one talked to her if they happened to walk by.

Sweet scenarios filled her mind,

like the sappy love stories we are all too embarrassed to like.

Toxic Father with Vagina Face

Atheism, Blame, Church, Domestic Violence, Family, fathers, fuck you, god, Hope, Humanist, Jealousy, Journal, Personal

My father, who looks like he has a unkept vagina on his face (due to his awful mustache and beard), just recently held an “Atheism intervention” for me. Isn’t he a wonderful man?

He asked if I would like to get lunch with him, and as the silly woman I am, I agreed thinking he was finally showing love toward me.

Could I have been more wrong?

When I showed up, there was a table of middle-aged white men with their bibles on the table staring at me (no exaggeration).

I sit down, and find out that I have strayed from gods path for me and need to redeem myself.

One of the men kept asking me if I thought god would think I was “righteous”, and I didn’t realize they knew I was an Atheist, so I just kind of just shook my head and ordered a taco.

He took the attention off of me and then talked to my dad, but came back to me and asked again and this time I was flustered, I just wanted lunch and not to bother with strangers who were trying to shove this ultra-religious shit down my throat.

So I looked him in the eye and said “Well no, god wouldn’t think I was religious, because I’m an Atheist and do not believe he exists. So if he happened to really exist, he would not like that very much.” and he just sat there, then picked up his bible and turned to the story about Abraham when he goes to sacrifice his son to god (Oh, because that’s a great story to tell someone when you want to convert them).

He also kept repeating “God redeemed you with his blood, which is so holy.” and I wanted so badly to say “Do you worship god or his blood?” because he made it sound like such a precious gem.

I made the decision to not go to my dad’s house anymore, though.

He hurt me, and doesn’t respect my decisions. Until he can see me as a person and not judge my life choices, he won’t have me at his house.

I don’t need to subject myself to someone who makes me feel like I’m wrong all the time. Not for someone who doesn’t accept me.

Where is the fucking beauty?


Writing, it’s something I have always enjoyed doing. Possibly because it’s always been a natural ability. I’ve always been able to write.

I used to want to write a novel, one about a young girl, Mara (named after my best friend from 1st grade), and her dragon Corinth (characteristics based off my timid dog).

Those were my first well developed characters. I really loved them, and still do.

Rarely do I let myself sit down to write for pleasure anymore, my blog is a journal and so it’s less a pleasure and more of a necessity for my mental stability.

I’m trying to find what makes me happy, I’ve been lacking in happiness lately. I ran to my ex-boyfriend in hopes that he would bring happiness with him, but he didn’t have it. I’m looking at my music, does it make me happy?

Do the events I plan make me happy? What about taking drama? Does that? No, not really. Not even playing piano has been a happy-thing for me lately. So, what am I missing? I’m not entirely sure.

I may need to just slow down. Stop making myself feel guilty for sleeping in. Which, I do. I feel guilty when I’m not working. I feel like I am slacking, never giving myself down time.

Maybe I should slow down and see the beauty in life again.

Maybe that is it.

Poetry Wednesday


Loving you is like the words in the sky

Being with you is like having my heart unclothed, fully exposed to the world’s harmful ways

You bring me to life in unexpected ways,

giving light to my flame,

love to my ways

You have this way about you,

make me blush just by sitting near me

I lose my breath when you walk in the room,

and don’t even mind when I lose to you

I don’t want to fool myself,

but it seems like you enjoy me too.

You spent hours holding my hand, messing with me,

and now I must say, you’ve changed my ways.

Sue Me, Bitch.


Welcome to Journal of stupid-damn-fucking emotions, where I have no fucking clue of what I’m doing and i spend most days curlin’ up and crying.

I really hope you’ve found my blog, Fiona. I really hope you know I’m in pain.

Just today, other days haven’t been so bad.


I don’t even want to talk to you right now.

I mean, you know how I feel about you, yeah I showed interest in someone else, but HMMMM maybe that wAS A DAMN COPING MECHANISM?

Or idk maybe in the last few weeks I really did get fully over you and am ready to give you love advice.

But without risking being put on my list, I wouldn’t bet on it.

and you know what? Fuck you. I’m listening to Owl City. sue me.

I’m not weakly sitting on the sidelines much longer.

Poetry Wednesday


My muse has a smile that brings light to a room,

The heart with passion as vast as the sea,

The eyes of a wolf on the night of a full moon,

And love that isn’t meant for me.

The passion in me, it’s meant for her.

The smiles on my face, they are because of hers.

I wished once upon a star, that she’d do the same,

But now I know that’s not her way,

and I shall live on with pain incased.

Loving someone is a special thing,

even if they don’t feel the same way.

It’s a treasure to hold onto,

and never let go of the wonderous pain.