What' s the point in signing up for a social network like myspace, facebook, myyearbook, emoearth, or any others that you can think of if the only people you are going to add are people you know in real life? I mean, isn' t socializing with new people half the point of these sites?

It' s the 18th and I' m 18.
The sun is low and the grass is wet.

 Life continues after death, and after heartache
and after everything was said, I laid down in my bed.
But I wasn' t afraid of the next morning, or that night.
Or what would happen next week, I know.
I could be gone any moment, and say I died today

I think I would be missed, by someone.
But I haven' t lived.

I' m not afraid of dying. I never have been.
I know it' s not my time to go.
I haven' t lived enough to go.

There' s spirit in my voice and sparkles in my eyes.
The sun rose just right.

When someone is there to share that with me, then maybe I' d be happy.
I' ve tried too hard and for too long to just end up...nothing.

I' ve tried to survive so that I could make it.
I know I will.

I feel no regrets for the life I led,
out of the disregard for the life I live

Have you ever been lied to so much that you can' t even trust yourself anymore?
I can feel my future pressing in on my lungs, I' ve smoked too many cigarettes.

But my eyes are clear and I see what' s in front of me.
I' ve always had perfect visions.

I won' t be like you, or her or him.
I won' t be like them.

This life, this chance
I only have one

I better make it good.

So obviously, being on a site called 'emoearth' makes me think about 'emo' people.
But honestly, who the hell coined up 'emo' to begin with?

Wasn' t it originally made to name a music genre? How did it spread into being a whole subculture?
Same thing with 'hardcore.' Though sometimes, 'emo' and 'hardcore' go hand-in-hand.

Generally speaking, I can' t stand people who consider themselves 'emo' OR 'hardcore.'
As in, I can' t stand they way most typical 'emo' kids act.
The ones who would say they are outgoing are mostly just annoying as fuck, and the ones who are shy always seem to just want the most attention.

And 'hardcore' kids? Come the fuck off it. Nobody cares that in all the pictures you take it looks like your hand has rigimortis, or that you go to shows every weekend to listen to bands that you can' t even understand the lyrics to. I' m sorry, but I like my singers to not sound like the devil.
Not because I' m religious or anything, but because it sounds dumb as fuck. And 'hardcore dancing?'
Probably the dumbest form of dancing I' ve ever seen in my life.

Right then, so with that said, you' re probably asking yourself why I even signed up for this site.
Well, it' s because I know there are people like me (people who don' t label themselves as 'emo') on this site that are actually looking to find some cool people to chat it up with. I' m looking for those people, not someone who will complain twenty-four/seven.

Oh, and I know I complain too. But at least I don' t sit there all day and say how horrible my life is, because nobody who' s parents have enough money for internet lives could be all that bad. Hey, you know, at least you get to eat everyday, right? Some people don' t even have that.

Suck it up and quit being a little bitch.

If I offended you by writing this, I could care less.
Block me, delete me, don' t talk to me.
It' s as simple as that.

In the third breath he took after he woke
on the day he would die, he felt peaceful.

But just for the inhale, the exhale was
raspy and exagerated.

His whole life he wanted something to live for.
And in those last hours, he realized that his only
reason to live was to have something to die for.

Did he have a good enough reason to die today..

He stood there, sweaty palmed and leaning on a dirty
gas station sink. Staring at himself in the mirror.

Did he have a good enough reason to die today..

A stir, a whisper. Someone was watching.
He turned around just to have the barrel
of a .45 shoved in his eye.

Hands by his side and heart in his throat, 
he knealed, back turned to his demise.

"I know.."

I walked out onto the back proch today to clean it up a bit.

The wind stirred up the freshness of spring. I was standing next to my little brothers’ four-wheelers, and smelled motor oil.

I was instantly brought back to when I was six years old, living in the blue house in Liberty, WV. My unlcles were working on their bicycles on the driveway, and I ran inside to get them something to drink. I came out, gave them their drinks, and sat on the concrete steps leading up the the backdoor. I watched them pop their chains back on, and flip their bikes back over. They rode around the driveway and front yard for a little while, occasionally jumping off the ramp that was set up in the grass maybe, 10ft from the driveway. Then they started playing basketball with the hoop that was attached to the garage/apartment.

I remember the smell of our garden on the other side of the house. Grandma always used to complain about the rabbits and cows that got into it almost everyday. I remember when we first went into the room above the garage, and we rummaged through the things that had been left there. I found a skull, and am still convinced to this day that it was real.

I remember when Rocky was killed. The bus driver found him on the road in the morning when he was coming to pick me and my uncles up. He moved the dog into our yard and knocked on our door. He tried to shuffle my uncles and I onto the bus without us seeing it, but I saw Rocky. I didn’ t even want to go to school that day.

Sometimes, I miss being young. I mean, I had some problems and there were things that happened to me that I wish hadn’ t. I wish I didn’ t have to hate my uncles, but I do, and I did.

But, I miss the simplicity of being young. It was all about having fun in that moment, and not thinking about the consequenses or repercussions.  I never watched television when I was young, I never even thought about it. But, I watch television all the time now.

I never choose to watch television over going outside until I was say, maybe, 15 years old. Although, I didn’ t really have a choice. I didn’ t have anyone to go outside with. Moving back to West Virginia ruined me.

I miss the springtime of my youth, and everyone I ever met then.