What Brand Of Weave Does Ciara Use?

Cleansed

- If You Could change one thing in your life, What Would You Change?

- My Life.

Sarah Kane - Cleansed

Closed Set Under Addition

Recycling for a final "Beat her." Crisis of faith

"I call for hatred, murder, rape, and killing in the massacre, the Fury, Napalm. "

I have white skin and blue eyes. Long hair that cascaded down on my hips round. My mouth is pink and fresh complexion, a crystalline laughter and pearly teeth as the beads around my neck. Vousne not see it? I am a princess. My father always told me: I AM a princess, a real one. Without dragons and crenellated towers, certainly, but with the delicacy and exeception that earned me my attributes, perhaps symbolic yet royal.

Now that you know everything about me - almost - let me explain. Not that I'm riding on the protocol, no, not that much, I assure you. But there are things that I do not tolerate, you know, my position can not ... how say ... suffer? My father would never have either accepted it. If he knew ...

I have known men, yes, of course, like all women of the XXI century. The princesses also modernize, we must move with the times. And know this: men, I made crazy more than one. But all were a little too ... scared. They left as quickly as they arrived, the poor. You would have seen the loose! For fear of not being up to it, obviously. Men always save their manhood before saving their lives, but what do you ... not everyone has the stature of a king !

But he ... it was different. He had all of those who could wear my crown. A smile of "gold, eyes that bore the world alone. It is on her skin so white, so pure that I thought it might be my new Louis.

Yes, yes, I am the way, do not worry. I turn to this morning. He was there before me, and like that, the air of nothing, he said: "Three I forget you. "I forget you, quite simply, he told me as we drink a cup of coffee. You see how it absurd, is not it? Ask such a vulgarity in the midst of our two sandwich was to understand nothing, you will not contradict me? And then it starts to count the muzzle! And he smiled, almost. And it's his smile that hurts the most, because I know him, that smile is the most beautiful smile, and it does not, it does not smile that used to kill people .

...

But they do not understand why, damn, why they do not understand? They are idiots or what? I am a Princess, a Princess like everyone, like everyone else, and it's still not hard to understand that it does not impose a princess, we can not forget it like that, a snap finger in a hiccup, in a whisper. Do they have lost a piece of brain at birth? And the other, there's another motherfucker who looks at me with his stupid smile, with his eyes fool who does not even have the guts to go on breaking something, no, that is quiet, polite, which think it will be a letter mailed to his coup "At three, I forget you," just because I am a delicate girl, and sentimental, and sweet, and shit! He thinks I will not respond, I will let myself trampled like that, as he wants, he can forget it because testosterone gives him the right to hunt elsewhere? AC, I told myself, that he will see if I'm still his little princess, he will see if we can forget so easily, if we can commit the worst crimes with impunity.

It was there, and it mattered.

1 ... 2 ...

There was no question, no question that I let him.

1 ... 2 ...

Allow me out of his head.

1 ... 2 ...

I found it: the old pistol from the drawer of the kitchen.

1 ... 2 ...

And I have not been told three.

3.

There.

It's not that I shot at him finally. It's on me. There was no greater revenge than to prevent it from ever forget me, do not you think? I know I'm always in his thoughts now. And believe me: it is the wrong start.

Brazilian Wax Can Use Tape

To be honest, I'm someone who believes in nothing. Not in the least little thing. I wish, however, be those who cling to an idea, a hope. A glimmer to which the tender gaze. A fulcrum, a home port.

I tried for a long time. Religion first. Petite, I prayed fervently every evening attended a number of celebrations, I read the Bible, communion in the churches, lit candles, argues my dual religion as much as I could, and I particularly envied the serenity of all those for whom these words meant something. I envied that promise we do not live for nothing and that's it, there is a plan for each of us, we will not like this, anywhere, tossed by the wind, and events for - finally, not much. But the idea of God left me with such ease that I realized I never really believed. All was masquerade games and keep my mind occupied, an excuse for what to draw, and chew a wafer during the interminable morning Mass overflowing always lunchtime. And to be honest, the absence of Father Christmas was a lot harder to swallow.

Once my sky depopulated, I turned towards the ground and failing to believe in God, I wanted to believe in Man. Think it was good and he could do me good. I wanted to identify each new encounter a wonderful point to cherish and love - or at least to respect. All this has made many people to consider, to be at arm's length, or the inside of the myocardium, a lot of weight on my shoulders which are bent under the mass of all those I wanted to kiss her. But then I did not care because I was on Crusade, with love in standard, large values of the full brain, and sugar on the eyelashes. But all these grains eventually fall in line the cornea, and we halted the machine illusions. I opened my eyes. And only saw arrangements, compromises with its own sollitude, to feel a little less lonely, to feel a little less stupid, to feel a little more beautiful and a little smarter. I liked to give meaning to plant with the world of germs of something larger than the mold of our little lives, to broaden our horizons and, perhaps, to help us sustain ourselves and others. But I saw the reverse: love is a selfish survival instinct, a return ticket to himself and nobody else. It expects the other a recovery, a point on which to build to stay above water. Love is not an equilibrium, it is a struggle between those who manage to take what he needed, and one who lost part of his treasure close. That would be for me the image of love: two animals fighting over a body part of the beast in front. The outcome is obvious. There will be a winner, fortified, and a loser, declined to be obsessed with the idea of going to recover what he lost from the same animal or another, it has more importance. We do not like someone, we like what she has to give.

Disappointed by these shenanigans, I preferred to believe in life in general. I made a prophet of the magic of everyday life. I traveled the world dancing on its dust into clouds of sparks, tips that could shine the eyes of all humanity. I poured out to all corners, I invented tricks, distributed smiles, lent my ears, my arms and my whole body, I'm Mother Teresa fantasized causes pagan. I believed in mysteries, the signs of fate, horoscopes, all that could enchant every day each week. I read in my every step, in each block of each path of the truths about my life and then on the other. Maisler soil dust from becoming ever sun, and I am exhausted and do nothing else but smoke. So to force the mites to fly, I became allergic to air. This is where I think I decided to leave. Back to basics.

I'm back in church. I sat in the driveway when the music started, when choir boys were swinging the incense on the faithful. I do not think that churches were still so popular, seeing the crowd eten cluster around the priest, I almost felt a vibration. A door shaking. A little relaxation at the bottom of the belly. But at the beginning of the sermon, the urge to vomit is returned. The harsh light of cynicism hit this hypocrisy instead of waiting of the Holy Spirit. I left, I felt like the heat expelled from candles. My poor little disappointment really did not care there.

Then I came back to me.

And here I am, to 23 years and still not believing in anything. I cut the branches of each of my anchor in the stars for me, for they are to me and do not shine for me. I wrap myself in my skin and no longer runs my eyes to a hypothetical idol who seek to rob me - my money, my sex, my thoughts.

I made the trip in reverse and have scattered all my beliefs, relieved my back, my heart, my shoulders, I'm back and I no longer believe in anything. Not even in 2011. I no longer believe in anything, but this sentence there is already a belief in themselves, which I cling. And this certainty, finally calms.

Now it remains for me to ... wait?

In Indo-European common kred s eh, which translates to believe, means "place in his heart."

I wanted to shelter my heart in any chest provided we make the fight. But the heart transplant is not yet well developed.

Please.

Give me a little dream.