<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/platform.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar/7247387677626955294?origin\x3dhttp://3825633.blogspot.com', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener("load", function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <iframe src="http://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID=3516409553009350420&blogName=Live+Preview.&publishMode=PUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT&navbarType=BLUE&layoutType=CLASSIC&searchRoot=http%3A%2F%2Fx-threemilesdown.blogspot.com%2Fsearch&blogLocale=en&homepageUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fx-threemilesdown.blogspot.com%2F" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" scrolling="no" frameborder="0" height="30px" width="100%" id="navbar-iframe" title="Blogger Navigation and Search"></iframe> <div></div>
 

 


That we meet in our middle way,
on our way back down to earth.

Profile
Pamela 11071995

I felt that night, on the stage, incredibly close to everything in the universe, but also extremely alone. I wondered, for the first time in my life, if life was worth all the work it took to live. What exactly made it worth it? What’s so horrible about being dead forever, and not feeling anything, and not even dreaming? What’s so great about feeling and dreaming?

Tagboard
Credits
©Glamouresque.
Saturday, August 2, 2008

HELLO.

retarded, retarded, retarded. i hate you, i hate you, i hate you. get out of my room, asshole. get out of my poor bed that your heavy bums are on. GET OUT. this is simply retarded. i can't stand you people anymore. paranoia. think all you want, you and your sick perverted mind, just know that i am not what you think i am. i am not some retarded person that ___ people so easily. trust you, my family, to insult me like that. I HATE YOU.

woke up at 10.30. had my breakfast. then.. had to go to this place supposedly to have some counselling done in my mind, but in the end, i didn't even talk to anybody there. i sat on the chair, waiting for the adults to finish the talking, then off, back home. had lunch. went to lower pierce reservoir. had a walk. ARGH. if only we saw the damn terrorist. ONE MILLIOOOON. you would have been MINE. wahahaha. but, you're not. FINE. then, my grandmother brainwashed me. with, WORDS, WORDS, WORDS. oh god. will you people just stop thinking so DIRTILY?! went home. my aunt came. AGAIN, another adult to brainwash me with WORDS, WORDS, WORDS. enough. TWO brainwashes in a day. with what i hate, WORDS. but both brainwashes were alright. they ask, whatever they want to know, and i answer.. the only way to make the brainwash a smooth process, ANSWER TRUTHFULLY. oh well. had a drive round maris stella high school. whoa. the entrance look somewhat like a temple's, but what's with the cross at the top? confusion. oh well. i am back at home.

blogging and thinking about yesterday.
WAHAHAHA.
i lost my first to you.
and you lost yours to me.
:p

bye. (: