If i could turn back time.

-sigh-

my generation…honestly.

Im almost ashamed to admit when i was born, i mean past generation has given us punk, metal, rock and roll, Motown etc. each with a message of rebellion, change, acceptance and so on. How has my generation contributed? scene kids, emo and hipsters, each with a message of whinging about who bad their suburban life is and how they want all this change to happen, but wont get off their ass and do anything about it. I really wish i had a time machine, so i could go back and fight for equal rights, individually and racial tolerance with people who actually gave a shit about someone other than themselves. I will fight for what i believe in, and i will fight to save rock and roll, even if i have to fight alone.

seriously children, wake up and smell that sunshine, even the 90’s gave us fucking “Girl Power”



P.S take off your sisters pants unless you plan on having the glam rock 80’s hair-do to go with it.

Take another little peice of my heart.

as i get older, i've started to notice that the more people i lose, the emptier i feel.
I wonder why that is?
I mean is it actully possible that i give such a big part of me to everyone i meet?
and when they go, do they take that part with them?
If thats true, is it possible to ever get that part of me back, or is it gone forever?
Should i fight to keep it or should i blow it a kiss goodbye and work on discovering a new part of me to fill the void?

-sigh-

I really fo ramble on with some shit.
but i honestly do wonder if these people, who take this huge part of me when they leave, are infact, the change i need?
the change we all need.

hmm thoughts?

xoxo
Rebel In Wasteland

Lean on me, when you're not strong.

Dear Stranger

please don't feel blue.

if you need a friend, knock on my door, ill make you a cup of tea and listen as you talk.

i wont interrupt and i wont judge you.

even if we've never met, i'll be there for you
because everybody needs a friend,
every once in a while.

i'll do my best to make you laugh
and wipe away your tears

you can leave and never call or you can keep in touch

just remember
when you feel all alone
I'm here, I care.

and i have a spare hug.

xoxo
Rebel In Wasteland

Take me to never-never land?

What do you want to be when you grow up?

Good Question.

I am 19 years old and i still cant answer that.

an astronaut?
a rock star?
a fire fighter?
all of the above?

There's so many choices of what i could be, but i cant seem to even choose one. I'm doing hairdressing, because i had to do something, unfortunately, drinking coffee and writing my novel doesn't exactly pay the bills at the moment.

-sigh-

one day.

To be honest, there is one thing i wanna be when i grow up...

a superhero.

so my question to you is, what do you want to be when YOU grow up?

until next time readers, remember, listen to the Beatles, eat cupcakes and read harry potter.

xoxo
Rebel In Wasteland

we're gonna die like this you know?

"can you not fucking leave me this time? can you not choose to run after her? i cant keep being your second choice kid, because you've always been my first, i never believed in love, then you came, and you screwed up my life, you made me feel again, you woke me from my constant state of being numb, and i didnt like it, i didnt like it one bit, but now, after all that, you're gonna leave me again? You asked me what i wanted from you that night, and i said nothing, but i didn't mean it, the truth is, what i want from you, you cant give, because everybody wants something from you, and it becomes too much for you and you run, but seeming you're about to leave anyway, i guess there's no harm in telling you, that the reason im standing here, being drenched head to toe in this damn down pour is because, well, for the first time in my life, im able to love something, and that something is you, please, choose me this time."

i wish i could tell him this.
garh.

anyway that is a line from my screen play "coffee is thicker than blood"

Dear Stranger?

Dear Stranger,
hello, you don't know me, but my name is Shannon
im not sure what your name is either, but i can just tell it would be my favorite name in the world
i bet you still wear superman pajamas to your king sized racing car bed with transformer sheets and you have all 7 Harry Potter books stacked against your bedside table, which has a cup of tea and some reading glasses on it, which is next to your scooby doo night-light, on your wall that is covered with pictures of new york, London and Paris, along with superheros and bands no body has really heard of, the biggest poster of all would be a picture of the guy from Bright Eyes with a quote from my favorite song "Does he lay awake listening to your breath? Worried you smoke too many cigarettes." You'd invite me over and introduce me to your mum, who has wrinkles from a life of laughing much too hard, she's smile and hug me, not taking a second look at my bright pink hair or face full of piercings. You'll go to your garage for band practice and she'll make me a cup of tea as she shares way to much information about you're baby bath times. You'll come in and smile, flashing you're crooked smile with only 1 dimple, you'll lead me to your room where we'll sit, playing video games until we get bored and you start strumming on your guitar. The sun has long set, and most the world is asleep, but we stay awake, discussing your tattoos, i especially like the one you got 3 years ago, for your childhood dog that passed away, i ask how you got the scar upon your lip, and find out why you hate your dad. We lay awake watching Harry Potter movies on your tv, and you dont laugh as my eyes water when dumbledor dies. Then we fall asleep and you dont make fun of my snoring or random sleep talking.
yes, dear stranger, you my not be perfect, but you sure are perfect for me.

Forever Yours (no matter where you may be)
Rebel.

on your machine I slur a plea for you to come home.

it will get easier, yes she's in a better place
all these stupid people lying straight to my face
you wont think about her everyday
but heres some pills just incase

theres no god to give her wings
no angels to hold her tight
its been a year but i still wait
to hear her voice tonight

the stars dont shine quite as bright
and the days go on too long
i start to cry as i remeber
that tonight she's really gone

you left me with nothing but
questions and this broken heart
havnt sleep much since that day
i just sit here and fall apart

swear i love you more.

This is my brother.
He is brave and clever and funny.
He will have none of the problems that i have.
His heart will never be broken.
He will never be humiliated.
Self doubt will not devour his dreams.

Operation: Post-it.

This is the adventure of 2 girls, Elyse and Shannon, who decided to change the world, 1 post-it at a time.













To anyone who saw them posted all over the city, i hope you smiled.

hello, green eyes.

id always known she neded help, but the time she almost bled to death on my bathroom floor, id say that was the low point. Walking in to see my stepmothers freshly re-done white pearl bathroom, stained with her blood made me realise that maybe this was a problem vodka and those pills the Dr made her take couldnt fix. She'd probably stopped taking them again anyway come to think of it, i would of too, they dont help, they make you numb, but when they wear off and you start to feel again, the pains 100x worse, like someones given you a painkiller for a paper cut but when the painkiller wears off your paper cut has suddenly morphed into a gouging sword wound. Fred probably had something to do with this, he usually does, Fred tells her to do alot of things, of corse, she's the only one who can see Fred. According to Dr Know-It-All-Andrews, Fred is not real, i dont know who she is to tell her that. Beng such a dedicated follower of this so called god, you'd think she'd have more compassion for people who put their belief into fictional characters as a blanket of security.


sighing i turned away from the window that i had been staring out of for the last 2 hours. i looked up to see sarah, her eyes glued to the road and her hands gripping the steering wheel so tight her knuckles had lost all colour. she had been like this the whole drive, only opening her mouth to sing along to the radio. suddenly i saw a smile spread across her face and she took her eyes off the road and looked at me.

"nice of you to join the land of the living sleeping beauty" she said with a sense of laughter in her voice.

"not my fault you bored me into passing out" i replied.

she smiled at me one last time then turned back to face the road, singing along to the radio again. i smiled as i turned back toward the window, i couldnt be sure where we were or where we were going for that matter, but neither of us really cared. all we knew was we had to get out of that town before it killed us. so with a full tank of gas, one stolen credit card and money saved from numerous baby sitting jobs, we were on our way, to anywhere.

this wont hurt a bit.

She sits on the cheap, stained sheets of the old motel room. As tears start rolling she remebers him and the times they had shared. Singing songs only they knew, falling alseep on rooftops and running until they collapsed.

But good things in life cant last forever, late night arguments and drunken regrets left them standing in the rain holding each other for the very last time.

She cant breathe anymore, her face flooded, looking in the mirror she tells herself "baby girl you're such a mess", with running eyeliner and tear stained cheeks.

She takes the gun and places it to her head.

She left this world nothing but a blood splattered note which read "LOVE KILLS"

ill be loves suicide.

i look at you for a second, you're looking down at the 50 story fall below us,
i laugh as i notice your eyes start watering, not from fear, but pure excitement.
a smile spreads across your face as you say "its beautiful enough to break your heart".
i smile because i was finally able to show you something you found beautiful again.
you start to stand, almost slipping, a laugh escapes your lips as you grab my hand.
and as we said our final fuck you to this town, we jumped together, we always told them we'd fly.
how ironic, we showed each other how to live, when we'd already both decided to die.

sold my soul to the open road.

drip. drop. drip. drop. all i could hear was the ending drizzle of the downpour that had driven me into this sheltered bus stop less than 10 minutes ago, searching through my bag for my last cigarette, i find your letter. My breathing stops as i trace my fingers over your unbelievably messy handwriting. I turn it over and study the still sealed envelope that was starting to age, 2 months and i still couldn't bear to open it. what if it said things i didn't want to hear? or worse still, things i did. i couldn't come running back to you, not after all this time, not now. I'd made this decision, id left, i waved goodbye and i never dared to look back, too scared of what i might of seen. Had your face been one of sadness or one of relief? and in the end which one was worse? I remember you handing me the letter, with a smile you slipped it into my bag as i got in the car, i tried lying to myself, preteding i had forgotten it was in there, but the truth was id always known. My own selfishness stopped me reading it these last 2 months, i knew your words were the only thing left in this world that could break me, so i ignored the yellowing envelope, just as i will now. Finding my cigarette, i place the letter back into its hiding spot and walk away. Ill read it one day, after all, its already too late...whats the rush?