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ik steek een kurk in mijn gat
het rijmt mss niet maar het dicht wel

http://www.youtube.com/profile?user=veerle45

irishSPlvr9

summon me to hilsbrad

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=10VmJ-8XGA4

http://www.freewebs.com/thezymotics/yodel.html

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dTdaNge_EHQ

Oefening: Namen en symbolen van chemische elementen.

My Heart Is The Worst Kind Of Weapon

[url]http://www.freewebs.com/thezymotics/yodel.html[url]

<b>Title:</b> The Art Of Losing
<b>Author:</b> Lore
<b>Pairing:</b> Rycer
<b>Summary: </b> Spencer and Ryan meet each other at school.
<b>Disclaimer: </b> Meh, not real. I wish.
<b>Note:</b> Thoughts are in italic
<b>Previous parts:</b> <a href="http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=junkie_princess&keyword=The+Art+Of+Losing&filter=all"> here </a>

<lj-cut text="The Art of losing">

<b><u>Tuesday, September 12th</u></b>

She didn't come back. My hair is pointing in every direction. My eyes, who are normally light blue are grey. Grey and sad. I eat nothing. I take another shower, so it wouldn't look like I was on crack or something. My hair looks respectable. But my eyes are still grey. My head is empty and I am ashamed about my arms. I change my shirt to a longsleeved one. So nobody would notice. Going to school is a hell.

'What's wrong with you?' Ryan asks, pointing at the white longsleeved shirt. 'Are you sick or something?'

'I went to bed with wet hair. I caught a cold.'

'You're lying, Smith.' His eyes narrow and his voice is sharp. 'You're avoiding me since yesterday. What the fuck have I done wrong that you do this to me?' Thick tears roll over my cheeks. 'Don't cry. It won't help.'

'I'm not crying. I showered.' His face changed from angry to worried.

'What's wrong with you, boy. I don't understand.' He shakes his head.

'Mom. She had a car accident last night. She's at the hospital.' I keep crying. And when I said those words, I knew where she was. I realized what happened. And that there was no mr. Perfect.

'I-I... I'm sorry, Spencer. Please believe me. I didn't know. I-I, how is she?' He stutters.

'They say her state is stable, but I was not allowed to see her. I'll have to wait till tonight.'

'Oh boy, I'm so sorry. I should have known that there was something wrong. I should have been more careful.' He wipes the tears from my face away with his thumb.

'You would have known something if I told you. But I haven't. You have reasons to be angry.' I bow my head.

'No I'm not angry. Not at all.' All the eyes on the bus are looking at us. Sofies eyes are full of adoration.

The day passes really slow. Too slow. Like someone stopped the clock. Finally the last bell rings and I run the school out.

'Easy, Spencer. She's going somewhere.' He squeezes my neck softly. When we're at the hospital, he grabs my hand. He strokes the back of my hand with his thumb. Loving. Caring. My whole body starts to shake when we approach the intensive care. Tears seem to be my best friend. But I don't cry. I showered this morning. I see her laying in a white sterile bed. Wires going in and out of her skin. A red bandage covers her forehead. Her eyes are closed. A catheter disappears in her nose. Her lips are cut and bruised. My hands are resting on the glass that seperates us. She didn't look like my mom. Not anymore. My mom was a woman full of energy. Not the lifeless body that was laying on the gurney in front of me. I banged on the window from pure frustration. A nurse turns me around.

'Are you Spencer Smith?' she asks. I nod. I can't say a word. My throat is shut. 'Your mom is in a coma. We can wake her up, but it's better that she stays in that coma till tomorrow. Her wounds will heal better. There's nothing to worry about. If everything goes alright, she'll be home at the end of next week. You can go inside when she's awake. Which means tomorrow. Have a nice day, Spencer.' She smiles friendly and hurries away. I swallow. How I wish I could collapse and never wake up again. Ryan lays his arm around my waist and leads me home. No one was saying a word. I'm not crying. It's the rain pouring down on my face. It makes our hair wet. It makes our hair stick to our foreheads.

'Spencer? You'll go inside and eat something. You have to eat something. Turn your computer on and talk to me. I'll try to come back, , but I can't promise. My dad will be raging already. But please keep talking. Promise me,' he begs.

'I promise,' I breathe.

'Good. Don't blame yourself.' He wipes a few wet strands from my face and looks into my eyes. 'God, I wish I could stay. I'm really sorry boy.' He hugs me close. And for one single moment I feel home. He lets me go. 'I better go home before he... he beats me up again.' He disappears out of my sight. I go inside and obey Ryan. The computer is on, but I still can't eat without choking. I do things without knowing what I do. I hurt myself without feeling it. I talk to Ryan without knowing what I say. I still hurt myself without feeling it. It's dark. It's cold. I'm alone and the house is empty. My ears are deaf from the silence. The more I do things without feeling it, the more I calm down. My eyes hurt from crying. Colours are mixing. Someone takes the razor out of my hands and throws it away. Two brown eyes inspect my arms and a pair of lips kiss the wounds. Tears fall on my arms. Two arms are pulling me close to a warm body.

'Boy, what did you do? What did you do?' His voice sounds hysterical. I don't know why I did it. I know nothing. 'Why didn't you tell anything?' he whispers. 'God, that's why you wore the longsleeved shirt. I should have known that. I should have known. Why am I such a non-attentively person? God why oh why?' He holds me close. My mind is coming back. My love is coming back. I don't feel like a ghost anymore.

'I-I didn't want that to happen,' I sob. 'It-it just did.' My body trembles.

'It's alright, boy. It's alright. Everything is going to be fine. I'm here. I'll stay here. I'm not leaving you alone anymore.' I cry for my behaviour. I cry. I'm not showering. It's not raining on my face. I cry. We sit there. For hours, I don't know. Our bodies close to each other. His hands continuously rubbing my back. Not saying words. Just feel what we want to tell each other.
Ryan stands up and helps me to get on my feet. In the bathroom, he takes the blood-stained shirt off. I love the red on the white. The contrast is beautiful.

'Don't throw it away,' I say with a silly smile. Ryan blinks.

'You're not keeping this shit! You have to stop it. It's ruining you! I'm sorry, Spencer. You can't keep the shirt.'

'But I got it from my mom. It's for my mom I bleed.' My face is a cascade. My eyes are red from the irritation.

'Your mom doesn't want this. Look at me Spencer, your mom surely doesn't want this. And me neither.' He throws the shirt away and inspect my arms again. 'Jesus, fuck, Spencer. What have you done?' he gasps when he sees my naked chest. He makes a wash cloth wet with hot water. 'This can sting a bit.' He bites on his lip when he dabs the wounds. I don't make a move. I just sit on the corner of the bath thub and watch Ryan's caring hands. I avoid looking at my body. I feel dirty. He dries my wet hair and combs it carefully. He laces all of my hair together with a hair-ribbon. His fingers massage my neck. With a towel he rubs my upper body warm. He puts me in a pair of warm pyjamas and lays me down in my bed. He takes me in his arms and cradles me like a little baby. I fall asleep like a little baby. I'm tired as hell.
When I wake up from this terrible nightmare, Ryan holds me close. He wipes the sweat from my forehead. He cares.

'Ry, I-I feel so hot. It feels like my body is burning,' I murmer.

'It's okay, boy. Just a fever. Your body reacts on all those gashes. Try to sleep again. I'll stay here. I'll stay awake for you. Don't be afraid.' His voice is soft and calming. I feel his lips next to my eyes. It's refreshing. He lays himself on his back and pulls me onto his chest. His hands caress. Comforting. Loving. I cry. I cry because of love. I cry because I don't think I deserve his love. I cry myself asleep.

<b><u>Wednesday, September 13th</u></b>

My shirt sticks to my stomach. My hair is wet from sweating. I still lay on Ryan's chest. His respiration is regular. His arms lay protecting around me. I can hardly open my eyes. They are swollen from the tears.

'Are you awake?' his deep voice whispers. I feel his vocal cords vibrate.

'Yea.' A hoarse sound comes out of my throat. I'm startled from my own vocal sound.

'Let me help you,' he offers. He takes all my clothes off and pushes me in the shower. He washes my body with pure seriousness. And I? I cry. As usual. 'God, I really can't believe that you did that to your beautiful body,' he says when he dries my body with a soft towel. And for the first time in these days, I see him cry. I hug him. And we cry together. Like two little boys.

'Thank God that you walked into my life,' I whimper.

'I shouldn't know what to do without you, Spencer.' He puts my clothes on and combs my hair. He dabs my eyes with cold water. 'The blue is back,' he smiles. A little smile creeps on my face. My fingers clamp his hands.

'I love you, Ryan. I don't know how I could thank you for last night.'

'Promise you won't do it again. If you feel like doing... that, just tell me or squeeze my hand or something.' I drown in his chocolate eyes.

'I promise.'


For <lj user="_sofiej_"> and Axelle.
</lj-cut>

Hem och konsumentkunskap?

'I'll call an ambulance. Hold on, please. I love you. Don't forget it.' Everything happens very fast. Before I know what's happening, I sit in the ambulance. Holding Ryan's hand. I promised not to leave him. I never break promises.

www.myspace.com/crown05

Fear & Regret.:

ik steek een kurk in mijn gat
het rijmt mss niet maar het dicht wel

I see red and blue lights coming close
While I’m standin’ in front of Joe’s
I’m innocent in any way
I only was there to save the day

The car stopped and out they come
I didn’t do anything wrong
guns up raise your hands
Ther’re totally destroyed, my brand new Vans

They took a mug shot,
While I bleed
The numbers on the board
didn’t count one, two, tree

Bij R&B zitten de mannen aan vrouwen.
Bij hiphop zitten de mannen een hun kruis.


Whahaha o jaa da's nog van vanmiddag.

zo, lekker brutaal
nee

www.livejournal.com/~jozua

thanks for the ride