sugar and spice and all things causing stomach ulsers [entries|friends|calendar] Ally [ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ] [ calendar | livejournal calendar ]

now i'm crawling towards the sun [02 Apr 2006|01:15am] another 2 hour conversation. i've never had these lyrics fit so right.  should i show you me? all we need is a little bit of momentum break down these walls that we've built around ourselves all we need is a little but of inertia breakdown and tell, breakdown and tell as we sift through the hourglass we realize that an hour's passed and not a person here is innocent we're both as guilty as a sin  ( these rules are meant to break, and these walls are made to fall ) 18|milk?

[25 Mar 2006|12:48pm] (don't worry, this doesn't effect anyone who is already a friend) 4|milk?

[26 Feb 2006|05:15pm] [ music | nobody puts baby in the corner ] ( FINALLY, the pics from the Panic! At The Disco concert on Feb 2nd ) 1|milk?

sugar and spice and all things causing stomach ulsers [25 Feb 2006|06:46pm] i made a mix cd that i can listen to when i go to sleep (i need music to sleep) 1.the grace 2.my heart is the worst kind of weapon 3.hey there delilah 4.beauty in the breakdown 5.cold wind 6.gunnin' 7.the fever(acoustic) 8.its not a side effect of cocaine... 9.i loved you all along 10.momentum 11.love will tear us apart 12.different 13.replaceable 14.here we stand 15.lyrical lies 16.walking with a ghost 17.i've go a dark alley... 18.when you're around and yes, all of these are acoustic, slow, and incredibly mushy :) 4|milk?

[24 Feb 2006|06:47pm] she keeps asking me and i keep saying no. i'll say it once, i'll say it again and every other time she tries to pry. and she changed the shrink date to monday. my mind is locked theres no use in going atleast its better having one parent that cares instead of two that dont havent spoken to him in 2 months and counting i update this way too much for my own good. 1|milk?

ignore it ignore it ignore it ignore it ignore it ignore it ignore it [23 Feb 2006|06:43pm] walking home when i saw a house. not my home, but a house.not mine, because if i owned it, it would be damned.this was a regular house, a nice house, with a red roof and a lexus in the driveway. but this housewas not my house, no.this house was cold and painfull. slowly drawing you in, but never letting you go. it was the curse that followed you. i walked into this house, not my house, and went into a room, not my room. this room was like the mind of the person whom it belonged to. cold and dead, not my room. the lady of the house was a mother, not my mother. she had class, a heart of glass, and a knack for making you feel sorry foe yourself. she claimed to live for others, but when it all came down to it she was just repaying her sins. this woman interuppted the writing. not my writing, but the writing of the poor soul locked in that lifeless bedroom. that poor soul was writing in a red notebook. not any notebook, but one that glowed with poetry, songs, and life tragedy. that poor soul wrote and wrote until their hand was as cold and numb as their surroundings. but they didnt stop. they poured their heart into that notebook, and wrote a story about a house, a mother, and a cold cold room. and then they cried. not their tears, but mine. milk?

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