He never ever saw it coming at all.

It's alright, it's alright, it's alright. I'm the hero of this story, I don't need to be saved. Oh, no ones got it all.

Oh life. Isn't it wonderful? And why yes, I do have the time to write about it at this very moment, because it's what I like to do. I mean, that's just if you were wondering... or making fun of it. I DON'T KNOW. I'm just saying. I would say I'm pretty decent at this writing thing too. It's also a better choice to spend my time rather than, let's say, gossiping about how a girl could be so "desperate" or a "slut" by twisting and reconstructing her words and actions into the way you wish it was. Or texting her pretending to be her ex-interest and doing nothing more than wasting precious moments alive. Or maybe even looking at her old blog posts about her times of anguish and misery, and doing nothing more than pointing and laughing. I mean, a girl in pain must obviously be hilarious. Especially if you have nothing better to laugh about, or enjoy. Or if you're just plain out pathetic. I've just got to get it out that if you were an agglomeration of boys doing that... oh man oh man oh man. You would have to be worse than the most ignorant girls I know or have heard of. But I DON'T KNOW. I'm just saying. I mean, if that were the case, but I wouldn't know anyways.

But moving on, no, I am definitely not sad. Maybe I was a tad humiliated in the beginning, but now I feel simply silly for feeling such despondency. I mean, the amount of compliments and admirations of my work and writing can't even compare to a one-night's moronic insults from opinions that mean nothing. I mean, there was only like, three guys that would even imagine of doing this. But I'm smarter than you may think, because I would never, ever name names. I think it's more fun that way, don't you? And who says I'm even saying this happened? Because as far as I'm concerned I'm just sharing feelings about the worst case scenarios.

I thoroughly relish writing my feelings down on paper, or my blog. I enjoy taking my emotions and making them into words that I can't say aloud, or face-to-face. It's a way of hiding, in a way, but staying sane. I also turn them into music, and write songs. Sometimes I record them, sometimes not. But either way, it still occurs. Ah, and some of you would know that already. You, being no one in particular. Obviously. But I don't think I need to explain myself anymore. Because I'm not deleting this blog, and I'm not changing the fact I like to shelter myself and my feelings behind these words. And honestly, you don't have to like it. If you don't then don't read it. If it entertains you for the wrong reasons, then that's unfortunate for you. But I don't apologize, and it's not upsetting me anymore. And believe it or not, there are people that enjoy reading my thoughts and emotions, or respect what I have to say. Those are the people that I love, and that I will respect in return. Unlike others... but once again, I refuse to name names.

I mean, I could post a picture of me with my two middle fingers up to the camera. That could've served as the thousand words I wanted to say in this blog post within a simple picture. But hey, I've already been there done that, and I'm not one to repeat history. And besides, this was a little bit more amusing for me anyways.

So in conclusion, I'm happy. Extremely and totally cheerful and elated. And I don't care about anybody's harsh or rude opinions anymore. Because I do not give a shit.
Fuck you. & Have a nice day.
Love always,
Katarina Ana Velazquez


PS. Words that you find it difficult to understand, I advise Dictionary.com. It's a pretty good website for people of little intelligence and a small vocabulary. And I'm going to be nice and put this blog into simpler terms for you so it's easier for you to comprehend, because I know reading this whole thing was NOT easy for you: I don't like mean people. Stop being mean.
Sometimes I wonder how I got to be so thoughtful.

PPS. BOOM ROASTED.

A sudden depart.

This poem has no flow, and is just a bunch of rambling from me in no organization in whatsoever.
It plain out sucks. But hey, it got some emotions out.


This misery is so repeated,
and these tears have become a simple routine.
But to my misfortune, I'm still left feeling hurt,
because you threw words at my heart that you obviously did not mean.

I never deliberated that it could happen in the snap of your finger;
in the blink of my eye;
in the fall of a raindrop;
or that it would make me want to fall down and cry.

I loathe at the fact that I didn't see it coming,
For not seeing that this was your intention from the very start.
And now you leave me hanging, feeling worthless,
leaving me out on display as your most catastrophic work of art.

But you never cared for art, did you?
You never considered things that I admired.
I was your boring, nightly entertainment
but it's clear I was nothing that you had ever desired.

Such apathetic happenings
leave me feeling nothing but despondent.
And as I struggle and turn, agitated in my bed,
I can tell that your eyes are shut with feelings of content.

Anger is flowing through my veins,
but the melancholy makes it too overwhelming to notice.
You have blinded me, to the sight of my own pain
and my eyes are finding it impossible to refocus.

So I hope everything is just how you wanted,
as I fall asleep to the pumping of my pitiable heart.
And my mind can't help but scream "Fuck you",
as I wistfully watch the last, and most sudden, of my torturous departs.

I thought you were worth every tear drop that is falling from my face,
and I find that my biggest abhorrence is that I was right.
I never measured up to your perfection, and never could if I tried,
So I guess I am deserving of this other sleepless night.

No more days.

I'm done with writing stupid letters to make myself write. When I want to write, I will. Hopefully I'm not permanently uninspired, or down, because I love it. My mind is just blank right now.

And I can tell you right now I hate it more than anything.

Awkward infatuation.

So I finally started writing again. And it is oh-so-satisfying.

This can't be right,
I can't possibly be falling again.
Because if it's true, then I am still so dismally naive,
And I will fall harder than Seattle rain.

But in your arms, I felt the peak of my euphoria
I was no longer despondent; I didn't lack a feeling of protection.
I felt more alive than I had in 5 enduring months;
& something tells me you weren't fooling me with distorted affection.

I am so exhausted of cultivating abandonment;
I just want you here by my side,
With our conflicting personalities and awkward infatuation,
We somehow find a way where we can collide.

Outside thoughts laugh with their contemptuous smiles,
believing I'm nothing but intensely enamored.
But I don't believe my thoughts are as fabricated as they appear,
and I will pay no attention to their cynical clamor.

This has to be right,
I am foolishly falling again.
I know in the end you'll be nothing but another consecutive regret,
but I'm convinced that you're worth the pain.

I finally have something to say.

And it might be sad that it's this. But I'm so satisfied this feeling is back. It's almost like I need it to breathe, even though that's not true... I guess it just always feels like the cherry on this un-finished pie.

But there's this boy; and the way he laughs, slaps a smile to my face. The way he talks, sends butterflies to my tummy. And maybe, just maybe, everything about him makes me happy.

And for some reason, I feel some sudden poems, lyrics, etc coming up. Inspiration is back, with this arising happiness, and the inevitable sadness that will come along with it.