Below are the 4 most recent journal entries recorded in Kry Lavender's Blurty:

Sunday, May 25th, 2003
8:18 am	-- To fuck up royally. (Comment on this)
Saturday, May 24th, 2003
10:28 pm	Fake. She. Everything is always about Her. Her this and Her that. She doesn’t give a damn who she hurts in the process. She is worse than any drug, acid or adderol alike. She pushed and grabbed, raped and groped. Stabbed and shoving to get Her way. Never satisfied with anything. Always putting people down. Always a smart word in her mouth. The thing with Her is that She gets under your skin, She works Her way into your skin. It’s Her plan, Her conspiracy. She works so hard to achieve My goals, My ambitions. She works so hard to make My dreams come true-for Her. Looking at Her is like looking to a mirror. Except I’m the real me and she’s the fake. Fake. That’s all She is. Just a little girl, who’s scared of being herself, and scared of being accepted. Accepted for Her She is. But who is She? No one will ever know. For even She is probably no longer sure. She’s too much like everyone else. Copying them, their every movement, every word. When you have an idea, suddenly it’s good to Her too. And before you know it, The Bitch is passing it off as her own. A fucking plagiarizer. How can you live like that? How can you live your life pretending to be someone else? Don’t you feel dirty and guilty? Used and fake? But I guess those feelings don’t effect some people. Especially Her. I try to be myself. Play my character to it’s full potential-but with Her in my damn life I can’t succeed. I dress one way-she dresses it too. I like a band-she likes them too. I use a word-She uses it too. I talk in slang-She talks it too. I like a boy-She likes him too. I feel shitty-She feels shitty too. I have to piss-She has to too. It’s getting old. I cut myself-She cuts herself…That’s another thing-My mark; the flat sign on my left wrist. I did it because it has meaning, a very long story perhaps, but it means a lot to me. She saw it, and what do you know? Hmm? After the next period The Damn Bitch has the same fucking mark on her Left Wrist. -Does she even know what it means? What it stands for? I’m Oi! She doesn’t even know what the hell Oi is. But yet She poses as Oi, She doesn’t get that people laugh at Her. That people make fun of Her. That people know She’s a fake. She thinks She’s fooling the whole damn world. Well Wake the fuck up Barbie-You’re not. We see right through you. We see your pain. I see your pain, your fear. Your secrets. The reasons why you’re so vain. But do you see how you cause me so much pain? Apparently, my Mr. doesn’t see through Her charade. He thinks it’s funny, or “cute”. He says that She “Looks up to me.”-Me being Me, I. Yeah ok, sure. Looking up to some one and ruining their damn life are different things, and I feel terrible that He doesn’t understand what She does to Me. How She torments Me. But I forgot, My feeling aren’t worth anything, I’m just “there” remember? But No! I’m not allowed to get in a damn fight with Her. I can’t tell Her how She makes Me feel, He insists that We’re too good of friends to let these things get in the way of our friendship-What friendship? Can you have a friendship with someone who is trying to take over and ruin your life? No I don’t think so. My Mr. doesn’t even see what She’s doing to Him. He doesn’t see how She’s manipulating Him-manipulating him into something more of Her liking. Flirting. Touching. Joking. Playing. Telling him things. Talking to hi behind my back. FLIRTING. FLIRTGING. She knows I (think I) Love Him. But She insists on ruining it for Me. Pushing Him away from Me and Closer to HER! Anything to get Him. To hurt Me. To see Me hurt. It takes a sick person to enjoy watching other people get hurt. And that’s exactly what She enjoys. She loves to see Me hurt and crying, it brings a smile to Her pretty, fake face. Well hell-GLAD I CAN MAKE YOU SMILE!! Whenever I see Her with Him, or talking to Him it’s as if two hundred and fifty knives stabbing Me in the back, and I feel the cold chill of blood running down My spine, down My legs, pooling around My feet. Everyone Over Looks Others Feelings. Everyone Over Looks Cries For Help. Everyone Over Looks Me. Me. Who am I? (Comment on this)
Tuesday, May 20th, 2003
8:47 pm	Spectacular Oh hands. His Hands. Touching my body, carressing my every curve. His forefinger gently gliding across my stomach, sending chills down my spine. Down my spine. His lips, tasting mine. Kissing mine as if they were a sweet treat. But the real treat was being with him. Like this. Our Bodies one. Soft moans escape me before I can control my feelings. The way he makes me feel. Our hands, find one another, and our fingers link, like one locks a lock. We were stuck. Together. But how can something so good, make one feel so dirty? But did i feel dirty? Or was it jsut the mixed feeling of: Lust. passion. Want. Want. When he left, I took a good look into teh looking glass. Turning on the shower, the condensation gathered- dancing it's mystical dance apon the frame of my looking glass. there I stood-bare-staring, at myself. My reflection mocking me. Staring at my bare body, I ws given two choices: Want it and make it happen. Want it and walk away. I will make it happen. (Comment on this)
Saturday, May 17th, 2003
10:45 pm	Passion Lovely, lovely. All extremes of beauty washed upon his features. Every inch, line, muscle, all crafted to perfection. Like a wax statue, except the warmness of our bodies embraced, entertwined doesn't melt him into something nothing more than a puddle of nothingness. Nothingness is what ruins people. What causes people to become fake, be something society wants them to be. They lose touch of what is really going on, of who they really are. They becomes victims of society, all superficial hypocrites. Exact copies of one another, trying to be just like Her and exactly like Him. But He, He is't like Him and doesn't try to be like Him. He is himself, and in a way its simplicity. To describe He in one word, it almost seems impossible. But as He would say- and the best word i can think of now-He is placid. O-but placid am I far from. Just feelings I can't really explain. Things I've thought I have forgotten how to feel. How to feel? But what I feel now, is almost like feeling nothing with nothing combined with everything all at once. If that made sense at all. To put these feelings into words, would be something like: Happy. Eager. Excited. Sad. Angry. Hurt. Passion. Passion. Passion. For a life once lived once lost. Passion. (Comment on this)