not of glass.

[KRISSLEE]

I stole this from Grace who stole it from Rumor who stole it from Mourge :3

33THINGSALLABOUTME.

THREE NAMES YOU GO BY:
1. Krystal
2. Kriss
3. ... Kaeva >.>

THREE SCREEN NAMES YOU'VE HAD:
1. Krisslee
2. Kriss
3. Fearful

THREE THINGS YOU'VE DONE IN THE LAST 33 MINUTES:
1. Ate a sandwitch
2. Drank half a coke
3. Wrote half an app

THREE THINGS YOU LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:
1. My eyes-- they are blue 8D
2. My appreciation for beauty u.u
3. My ability to wrriittttee (even if it is nonexistant xD)

THREE THINGS YOU DISLIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:
1. I pop my knuckles
2. I procrastinate too much, like Grace ):
3. ... the fact I'm practically blind

THREE PARTS OF YOUR ORIGINS:
1. Uhhh....
2. Ummm...
3. I dunno, alright? Dx

THREE THINGS YOU'RE AFRAID OF:
1. Grasshoppers
2. Contacts
3. Falling off of a tall building and hitting something hard below.

THREE THINGS YOU ARE WEARING RIGHT NOW:
1. Fuzzy striped pajama pants :3
2. A T-shirt that mentions something about a rodeo
3. Glasses because I'm blind without them.

THREE OF YOUR EVERYDAY ESSENTIALS:
1. Juice or a coke
2. A shower
3. Computer time

THREE IMPORTANT OBJECTS:
1. My laptop <333 I would die without it.
2. And like Rumor and Grace, my glasses o.o I tend to be unable to do anything that involves reading/writing/seeing without them >.>
3. *sochildishIknow* My stuffed animal monkey named George 8D

THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE BANDS:
1. Switchfoot
2. Three Days Grace (FTW, Grace)
3. Thriving Ivory

THREE WAYS TO BE HAPPY:
1. Computer
2. Music
3. Socilization with people

THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE SONGS AT PRESENT:
1. Savior - Rise Against
2. Get Out Alive - Three Days Grace
3. Move Along - All American Rejects

THREE NEW THINGS YOU WANT TO TRY IN THE NEXT 12 MONTHS:
1. Walking more often? xD
2. Drawing more often
3. ... umm... playing with my dog more often?

THREE THINGS YOU REGRET:
1. Procrastating for much too long
2. Letting my puppy get out into the front yard and try to run off-- but she came to me when I called! Yessss
3. Going to bed at four last night and waking up at noon?

THREE THINGS YOU WANT IN A RELATIONSHIP:
1. Understanding
2. Love?
3. I'm going to steal the third from all three of you and say honesty xP

THREE IMPORTANT THINGS YOU'VE GIVEN TO THE WORLD:
1. A finished book that needs to be edited horribly! 8D
2. ...um... rp characters?
3. Intellectual, and sarcastic, comebacks! 8D

TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE (in order):
1. I like the color indigo
2. I adore the game Dodgeball even though it's illegal in New Mexico
3. I'm afraid of the dark.

THREE PHYSICAL THINGS YOU LIKE IN THE OPPOSITE SEX:
1. Dark brown/black hair
2. Blue or Green eyes :DD
3. SMEXY ACCENTS

THREE EMOTIONAL THINGS YOU LIKE IN THE OPPOSITE SEX:
1. Sarcasm and good humor.
2. Intelligence.
3. ... Philosphical?

THREE THINGS YOU JUST CAN'T DO:
1. Frontflips/backflips/gymnastics in any way shape or form
2. Watch someone take a contact out of their eeyyyeee or put one in.
3. Get a tan-- I just burn ):

THREE THINGS YOU MISS FROM YOUR PAST:
1. My innocence? This probably doesn't make much sense, but if you went to my school you'd understand ):
2. Being social? I used to be more social...
3. Ignorance! D:

THREE GIFTS YOU WOULD LIKE TO RECEIVE:
1. Photoshop! Although that is unlikely ):
2. ... a german shepherd. One day...
3. CDsssss

THREE REASONS WHY YOU ARE WHO YOU ARE:
1. Because I write and read
2. Because of my friends
3. Because of my family and because of mmeee

THREE OF YOU YOUR FAVOURITE HOBBIES:
1. Writing
2. Drawing
3. Reading

THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO REALLY BADLY RIGHT NOW:
1. Get some popcorn
2. ... attack something
3. Read a book

THREE CAREERS YOU'RE CONSIDERING:
1. Author
2. Graffic Artist
3. Something that envolves big kitties :3

THREE PLACES YOU WANT TO GO FOR HOLIDAY:
1. Hawaii-- I'm jealous, Grace DD:
2. ... Russia. I heard the people there are scary, though.
3. Places in Europe

THREE CARTOON CHARACTERS:
1. Sylvester
2. Pinky and the Brain
3. Um, does charmander count from Pokemon? *suchanerd*

THREE BOY’S NAMES:
1. Seleste (IT IS A BOYS NAME)
2. Wolfgang
3. Leonardo

THREE GIRL'S NAMES:
1. Iris
2. Jaela
3. Kristin

THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO BEFORE YOU DIE:
1. PUBLISH A BOOK
2. ... encounter a mountain lion in the wild o: which could possibly be what kills me. jkjk... hopefully
3. Throw a knife and hit a bullseye o:

[KRISSLEE]

Started writing this thing and then it turned into something that reminds me of the Menagerie:

Not of Glass


Years from now, baby we’ll be sittin’ high an’ tall
We’ll have a kingdom made of glass and mirrors
And you’ll be able to see everything we’ve ever done
Just like we were there again, like we’re young again

And I’ll hold your hand like it’s the only thing keeping me here
But you’ve got to know that one day that hand’ll be gone again
And sweetheart, you’ll be all alone, to live in your glass castle
Waiting for me to come on home, even if you I never will be

Years before this, baby, we were sittin’ in the dirt, all alone
All this suspense leading up to lives lead by nothing but fate
Or was it chance, that put us here in this place we are now?
Sometimes I feel like we’re betting with nothing but our lives
Sometimes it feels like we’re fighting fate with this chance

Once I knew a boy, yeah, and he was really something
Not right in the head, if you get what I mean—insane, you know
But we never did throw him out of our fragile glass kingdom
We let him right in, yeah, we’re fighting fate now-a-days

Can’t say everything we’ve ever done is still right now
But in the moment it was, and I don’t regret a thing I’ve done
Sometimes I wonder how we made it through all this confrontation
And then I think of that sky-high glass kingdom; it was ours
I remember, then, that we’re stronger than any of you

Years from now, baby, we’ll be sittin high an’ tall
We’ll have a kingdom made of glass and mirrors
And you’ll be able to see everything we’ve ever done
Just like we were there again, like we’re young again

Sometimes when I look through the windows of our home
I think again that maybe this isn’t much of a home anymore
It’s kept us here for years, until we’re old and withered and weak
And we have been unable to turn away from this entrancing dream
Because it’s all we’ve ever had and it’s all we ever will

I cannot bear to think that it will end like this, with us so alone
The mirrors have become opaque and clouded, and when I look
I do not see myself anymore, but a stranger with blood on their hands
And I think, “What have I done?” but the kingdom has not cracked

The glass is the same, so perfect and placidly beautiful as it gleams
And keeps me here, your hand now gone from mine—I don’t know you
I fear that I’ve done a few too many wrongs, and can’t remember them
And I remember that boy, the one who wasn’t right in the head
I think he might be me now

We have been fighting fate; we have been taking a chance
We have been betting with more than our lives, and now I’m in debt
I think, sometimes, that this place has become a solitary prison of minds
For it is a prison now, don’t you see? I see eyes that glare through the walls
They watch me sitting in my cracking throne as I rule over people of ice and glass

Years from now, baby, we’ll be sittin’ high an’ tall on broken thrones
We’ll have a kingdom made of frozen glass and opaque mirrors
And you’ll be able to see everything we’ve ever done, good and bad
Just like we were there again, like we’re young again now that we’re old

We could build it up from the ground and let the world see its greatness
We could make sure that only a few got in, and the rest stayed out
We could make it beautiful, breath-taking, a heaven on earth
We could close the doors of our kingdom and lock everyone inside
We could break the mirrors so as to not look at our changing selves

The cracks started in the people, not the glass; first the inferior
They broke down like rusted machinery, and went insane
It spread like a disease, as I sit proud in my broken throne
Without your hand in mine any longer because now you have
Another kingdom, far away from mine, with men not made
Out of glass
But of ice

[KRISSLEE]

occ;! this scene just won't get out of my head. It's about none of the charries you guys know. Everyone in this scene comes from one of my books. It's way more symbolic than it looks likes, btw


The world is finally still.

It does not care for the things that mar its hide. The world is patient—it lives a life of indifference, watching as the cities of humanity and thrown forth through sepulchers of despair and destruction, only to succumb to despair and destruction themselves. The dust gathers around, lit to haloed radiance by pools of sparse lighting as the sun sets. They spiral, entirely different worlds, shards of golden and silver planets that look so beautiful.

I am finally still.

My breath stirs the air, the coldness of my throne is the only comfort left in my land. And I watch them play, just like I always do. They come into my empty, desolate room dragging their toys, so crude in comparison to what children used to play with. A pipe or a stick, sometimes a knife; they were old enough to know not to cut themselves. I watch them, just like I always do, because they seem separated from me. The scene is one ages old, like a reminiscent conjured forth to comfort a dying old man. Only I am not dying, and I am not old. My life still stretches ahead of me, but it is empty.

The boy has his eyes.

The girl has mine.

Sometimes they ask me if I regret the things I’ve done. I do not lie to them. I tell them yes, because they can see the truth and know that that is a lie. I do not regret. There is no point in it. I cannot change my mistakes—I used to ask for a different life. I use to act naïve to the world I lived in. But not anymore. I see the blood, staining my hands, long after it has been washed away. I know it will not be washed away. Someone once asked me how much blood had been spilt by my hand, when I could have held back my blow. I had said oceans of it—enough to color the sky crimson, enough to paint the world in red.

I do not forget that he said the same thing.

My memories are fragmented. I see images that are not full. He is always walking away in these memories; his back is turned to me, lit flitting across his skin as shadows attempt to devour him once more. His hands are covered in blood, the image that stays with me and him both, and he washes off the blood. It swirls down the off-white sink, making the drain gurgle as it eats up the foul concoction of sanguine bleach and water.

The boy, his eyes turn to me.

He does not smile, not like his sister does. He remembers what I did—I am sure that the one fragmented memory that remains imprinted upon his young heart is the image of me raising the gun, and of pulling the trigger. He saw the look of frantic grief as I realized whom I had shot, and then the hardened resolve as I realized that he had needed to die. I wonder, sometimes if he hates me for it. I wonder if when he is grown he’ll come for revenge, but there is something different in his eyes. Something that tells of a different life story than mine and his father’s. One equally full of despair, but not one filled with the same kind.

You are a boy. You don’t understand.

But he does.

One day, when he is older, and no longer plays he leaves. I have not changed—my face is the same, for I have not aged even though he has. I sit in my throne and watch him walk away. His sister fallows after him, walking into the light of another day outside. They do not say goodbye. They leave me to rest in my silence, but there is no resting for me. I stand. Stagnate air moves. I walk. My breath does not change. I am haloed by the beautiful light as it strains through the windows and the opened door. I do not go to that door—I go to the staircase, encrusted with shadows. I ascend.

The darkness eats me.

I am not afraid of it.

The steps beckon—I move with uncanny grace. I know where I’m going, and I am not afraid of it. The silence is broken by the thundering footsteps. They are leaving—leaving to find something out there in this cursed, listless world of ours. The door I’m looking for stands out in the darkness of the stairwell. I cannot clime any higher. That door… my hand opens it on its own accord. I step outside onto the roof, plunging back into light.

The radiance eats me too.

I am afraid of it.

But I step forward to see them leave. They are older now, no longer children playing with makeshift toys. Their smiles are long gone as they walk away, hard reserve on their faces. Like me, I wanted to whisper. Like him, too. They embraced the world, as I stood overhead, swaying in the wind on the balcony. They walked into the dark city that was my own demise. Do not get lost, I wished to call out to them. It is easy to lose your way down there, children…

My balance teetered on the edge of the roof. I step forward.

The air rushes past me at last. It is like I’m flying.

The ground is not close enough for me to worry about it as I descend.

It is the time of year that it snows. The clouds are slate gray, the wind is bitter. The ground below is frostbitten with winter. I see another fragmented recollection—of crimson on the snow, of children running out to play in it even though they knew that blood meant death. They are used to it, he had said. They were used to it. The ground is closer now.

And I think maybe I can see another glimpse of them walking away, but it is a feigned glimpse. The only thought I have left now is that…

Maybe, just maybe they’ll be able to find the hope I can no longer believe in.

I don’t regret it. I do not regret my life. I do not regret how I died—the ground embraced me.

[KRISSLEE]

*http://i53.tinypic.com/x3e4vq.png

sig for a brainchild I may or may not make. He's a melanistic barn owl. Maybe.