But she's right. I'm only last if I let myself be last.
So - here's a note.
I'm going to be first, dammit. Or you can kiss my ass!
Well. Maybe not first, but I'm not going to be last anymore. That's for darn tootin'!
A dark pain that slices into your soul - one you thought you could deal with.
But apparently not.
Finding that you are being put off, ignored, left til last is never a good feeling. And I find that I wish that just once - I could come first. For something besides my mom and dad. I know I come first for them. I'm their kid. Of course I do. But can't I be first for someone else? Can't I be the one who gets to hear all the stories? Get all the messages, the emails, the phone calls?
I suppose it's in the stars that I am just the one who gets to be the one turned to when all else fails. The one to be cried on, to comfort. But never to be loved.
I've known this was my place for years.
Why does it still hurt?
I had to seriously tweak the index file to make it a 'theme' file. XD
If something looks wonky - PLEASE leave me a comment and tell me. Blergh. I'm currently on the look out for a new one. ::sigh:: I don't think I can write it myself. php and I are NOT friends. :/
We'll see. I guess. (;
Anyway.
- Update -
I've always installed something called Spam Karma - to try and keep out the spammy-comments.
Sooooooo . . . if your comment gets eaten . . . just email me . . .
burn @ evanescing.org
So, she assigned me to the 'They Might Be Site Monitors' team. I need to find my They Might Be Giants CD so I can listen to it incessantly. ^_______^
The team leader for the team is a guy by the name of Chris. I went by his blog and left a note. Should be a fun time for all, eh?
Oh. D! Get your butt in here. You know you have to do a guest post or two on this thing!
Anyway. Update-a-roony.



