CallmeJane's profile

" November 5th, 2005 (Saturday) Entry 21 Hey Mr. Poe- Thoreau, I know I've written a lot. I wonder if other people do the same. If they write every spare moment they get. I write any time I can, for instance in school, whenever I sit down before class starts I write. After tests, at lunch, during study hall, then when I get home it seems all I do is write to you. I'm not sure why, but you're the only person I feel comfortable talking to, to this extent at least. It's sad to say, but not many...

Selena walked into the local pharmacy, on a quest to find her journal. She walked up and down the aisles until she found one that had different notebooks, planners, and composition books. There were so many to choose from, different colors, shapes, sizes. Then she saw it. As if it were a moment straight out of a romance movie, where soulmates meet for the first time, she met the journal that was meant to be hers. It was a standard size composition book, with a black cover, and one hundred an...

Months and months in a distant land My brother is gone, out fighting in the sand, Iraqis and the Taliban started this war, They killed thousands, why'd we have to give them more? Four thousand soldiers fought for what they believed was right, But bombs are still dropping, where's that leave us at tonight? Fighting for justice was their simple cause, Ours died young, or were sent home covered in gauze, By candle light they pray and write letters home, We send them our love, so they know their ...

I miss you like the sun misses the rain I miss you like the sky misses the ground, I've tried my best to work through the pain It hurts so much with you not around, I need you like the stars need the night I need you like a shoe needs its mate, Without you nothing seems to be right Without you nothing can ever be great, The tears I've cried have completely emptied me You're the only person I ever allowed to see, My armor was down, my heart could break Now I have nothing left to give for Gods ...

Selena walked into the local pharmacy, on a quest to find her journal. She walked up and down the aisles until she found one that had different notebooks, planners, and composition books. There were so many to choose from, different colors, shapes, sizes. Then she saw it. As if it were a moment straight out of a romance movie, where soulmates meet for the first time, she met the journal that was meant to be hers. It was a standard size composition book, with a black cover, and one hundred an...