I started writing my life story on here just now, and got to my difficult age of 16 and decided against it because theres certain things at that age that I just don't want publicised.
I think my life is just too emotional and too personal to be shared and I'd rather leave the past where its at.
Ohwell, maybe i'll write a book about it one day.
But heres a word to sum up my life: Unorthodox.
And heres a poem which relates to me this very second
Crossing the water by Plath
Black lake, black boat, two black, cut-paper people.
Where do the black trees go that drink here?
Their shadows must cover Canada.
A little light is filtering from the water flowers.
Their leaves do not wish us to hurry:
They are round and flat and full of dark advice.
Cold worlds shake from the oar.
The spirit of blackness is in us, it is in the fishes.
A snag is lifting a valedictory, pale hand;
Stars open among the lilies.
Are you not blinded by such expressionless sirens?
This is the silence of astounded souls.
