THIS Rhett Butler Will Never Die

i gá a thaifeadadh an dáta seo do na glúine ar mhaithe toisc go bhfuil crosbhóthar mór bainte amach. Is é mo cairdeas le óg Miss Scarlett i mbaol de dar críoch. agus díreach mar a thosaigh mé a scríobh seo amach le hintinn go hiomlán chun dul i domhain le léargais agus na mínithe ar cad a tharla dúinn a thabhairt chuig an bpointe seo (a bhí i réidh le dul isteach i doimhneacht an oiread sin go raibh mé ag dul a aistriú an téacs seo go Fraincis ionas go mba aon duine a stumble ar seo bheadh ​​siad ag dul trí roinnt iarracht chun a fháil amach cad a bhí scríofa i - ach amháin ar ndóigh, bhí siad ina labhraítear Fraincis). Ach anois go bhfuil mé ag scríobh nach bhfuil mé gur mhaith leat cuma a insint duit cad a tharla. Ní gá dom a aer mo cheann amach. Ní gá dom gearán a dhéanamh. Ní gá dom a mhíniú mo thaobh den scéal. Cad é is cóir agus beidh mé ag déileáil leis. Beidh mé a rá go bhfuil mé wounded mór ag an méid a tharla. Go mothaíonn gach lá ar an scaradh óna cosúil le bás. Gur thug ...

you know why i like the dark seasons (autumn & winter)? because they give me permission to be a depressive. at least that is what i've exemplified for myself as a cry of victory over the majority of my lifetime.  its more okay to be depressed during these months than it is when the sun is constantly shining. i'm not going to say any of what's on my mind or in my heart properly or succinctly enough in this entry because i'm very out of practice with writing. i'm out of practice with communicating outwardly and publicly. i have been living in secrecy for a very long time now and mete out what i want to be known in teaspoon fulls, but not to anyone in particular. i am becoming obscure and reclusive. it's been roughly a year since i left facebook and my goal of making stronger, real seeming relationships with people not  using that platform of communication has floundered. the majority of the members of the modern world that have been swept up into the easines...

i hope i will never fully understand why this song moves me so much. Pretty bird with feathers falling Pretty as a lady calling For her pink and midnight lover As she stares into the water And a yellow moon is rising And there can`t be no disguising That the pretty bird is dying With a silver arrow lying at its side Rivers of blood, oceans of tears, life without death, and death without reason To the whole United Nations, To your greatest expectations To the moment that you realize As a dark figure slips from out of the shadow Pretty bird closes its eyes, pretty bird dies Another pretty thing dead on the end of the shaft Of the Zen Archer A man in parts forgotten With an outlook that is rotten And an attitude to match it Finds relief inside a hatchet And he halved someone in Boulder Justifiability is in the hands of the beholder And you just don`t know what people will do next Mountains of pain, valleys of love, death without life, and life withou...