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jaime_rayne

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You know whats weird? [24 Feb 2013|09:38pm]
[ mood | nostalgic ]

You know whats weird? Reading your live journal after almost 10 years. Its kinda weird how you remember somethings and not others. Although I suppose that's why people keep journals in the first place. I can't promise to post much but I will update somethings on here and maybe keeping going.

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[28 Apr 2004|08:43pm]
Nightmares

Scream Long Delirious Nightmares
That Only I Resemble. Whisper Misplaced
Horror With Eyes Shut Wide, To A
Ghastly Headless World, Party To My
Trembles. Supernatural Mind Seemingly
Shackled With Hesitant, Creepy Animalistic
Delusions Wanders Through Enchanted
Shadows Sick With Windy Electricity,
Furious In A Strong Intuitive Nightmare.
Oh Mislead Me My Wandering Mind
Sympathetically Undone With Wild Ugly
Mysteries Unreal And Achingly Calm.
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[16 Mar 2004|01:05pm]
[ mood | accomplished ]

Killing Your Obsession

Dark passion burns inside of you and fills me with such terror.
You profess you love to me, but only with your horror.
You touch me and I tremble, you caress me and I cry.
I say I love you, you slap me and it makes me want to die.
How much can I take? When will my mind break?
I say I won't play the victim so how do you make me quake?
You bind me up and shove me against the wall,
Then try to kiss my tears away when I begin to fall.
No one makes me feel the way you do, or hurts me as you do.
You know no love, you know no shame, you know not what you do.
Oh how soon did my strong wall crumble,
After our painful rough quick tumble
Leave me be for the love of God see me,
Set me free for the love of God hear me.
Don't obsess over me: Your Obsession
Or you might very well kill me.

*written in response to a situation that arose in my life.

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[16 Mar 2004|12:13am]
My life has been rated:
Click to find out your rating!
See what your rating is!
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[15 Mar 2004|03:59pm]
[ mood | artistic ]

Broken

When you look into my eyes
I know you see my fears,
My eyes have betrayed me.

The window to my soul
I fear it's been broken,
Oh how I've been broken.

I am the jaded wanderer
And I'm screaming in the night.
I am screaming.

They say the eyes lead to the soul,
And I think mine found the exit long ago.
I'd breath if I could, cry if I would,
Love as I should but I am broken.
I'm broken.

I am comfortably numb
As I shrink inside of myself,
I am dying.

I am losing myself
In an endless charade,
I am lying.

I don't belong anymore
My world is melting,
I am discarded.

They say the eyes lead to the soul,
And I think mine found the exit long ago.
I'd breath if I could, cry if I would,
Love as I should but I am broken.
I'm broken.

They say the eyes lead to the soul,
And I think mine found the exit long ago.
I'd breath if I could, cry if I would,
Love as I should but I am broken.
I'm broken.
I am broken. I am broken.

*Just a little poem I wrote the other day.

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[17 Feb 2004|08:12pm]
table border='1' cellspacing='0' cellpadding='2' align='center'>
<tr><th colspan="2" bgcolor="#000000">Which Way Will You Kill The Bastards Who Cancelled "Angel"? by incuriosity</th></tr><tr><td bgcolor="#000000">Username</td><td bgcolor="#DDDDAA"></td></tr><tr><td bgcolor="#000000">Nationality</td><td bgcolor="#DDDDAA"></td></tr><tr><td bgcolor="#000000">On</td><td bgcolor="#DDDDAA">October 16, 2004</td></tr><tr><td bgcolor="#000000">You will:</td><td bgcolor="#DDDDAA">send a parcel in the post</td></tr><tr><td bgcolor="#000000">With a:</td><td bgcolor="#DDDDAA">piece of armed C4</td></tr><tr><td bgcolor="#000000">You say:</td><td bgcolor="#DDDDAA">anyone ever tell you you're a twat?</td></tr><tr><td colspan="2" align="center" bgcolor="#000000"></td></tr><tr><td colspan="2" align="center" bgcolor="#000000">Created with quill18's MemeGen 2.0!</td></tr>
</table>
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[17 Feb 2004|07:57pm]
[ mood | crappy ]

So I thought I'd post about why I haven't posted in awhile. I had a horrible accident at work. A large stacks of 2x4's fell over and landed on my hand. It was awful. I crushed it pretty bad. I ended up with crushed cartilage. My knuckles were crushed and displaced. I fractured several bones. I also crushed four tendons. Needless to say I wasn't able to type and I was in quite a lot of pain. I'm still all bruised and in pretty bad pain but it's a lot more tolerable now then it was. So that's why I haven't posted or really been on-line at all. So sorry. I hope everyone else is doing well though.
Ciao.

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[08 Feb 2004|08:43pm]
just took a neat quiz........





Which Angie are you?

quiz by acidflowers
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[03 Feb 2004|02:34pm]
[ mood | awake ]

Stole from (fantacshan1).

YOUR NAME/NICKNAME: Jaime-Rayne Stone/Princess Super hero

YOUR AGE: 21

YOUR LOCATION: Hamilton, Ontario

PLACE YOU WISH YOU WERE: Cairo, Egypt

FAVORITE BOOK: tied between Gone With the Wind and Little Women

FAVORITE FOOD: Chicken Caesar wrap

CURRENT FAVORITE SONG: I'm bad 4 U by Alannah Myles

WHAT ARE YOU MOST PROUD OF? I was the first one in my family to graduate from high-school.

WHAT ARE YOU LEAST PROUD OF? I was also the first one of my family to attend University, but I had to drop out because I couldn't afford it.

GREATEST FEAR: Two things.... being forgotten and ... well.... clowns

WHAT DO YOU WANT OUT OF LIFE? I want to be happy and live a fulfilling life. I want to adopt children and give them a great life.

WHAT DO YOU DO WHEN YOU AREN'T READING LJ? I watch a lot of movies and I read like books are going out of style. I also dance and act. I also work 12 hour shifts at a Steel Mill.

HOW DO WE KNOW EACH OTHER? Live Journal Add Me Pages

ARE YOU HAPPY? Not really but one day I will be, I hope!

TELL ME SOMETHING: My grandmother was a prostitute and my grandfather was involved with the mob.... lol.. o kidding it's the truth...

ASK ME A QUESTION, IF YOU WANT.


*k, so now I've filled it out why don't you do the same....

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[03 Feb 2004|01:32am]
[ mood | embarrassed ]

Sometimes I wish I could live happy in my delusions in a nice safe padded room where injections keep me from destroying what's left of myself and where I never have to think only react and where I live safely away from the things that make me so crazy. And sometimes I wish for oblivion's sweet kiss and its days like that that seem the worst to me, and then I refuse to give up or give in, but sometimes I think that it would be so much easier if I just gave in. Then it just builds up inside of me and I'm just a caged lion with no cage. Perhaps it isn't me at all- maybe it's everyone else who's all fucked up and maybe I'm the one who's fine. But I guess that couldn't be it couldn't? No I suppose not, because that'd just be too simple. So it must be me and nobody else. And sometimes I'm afraid I'll suck everyone else into my delusions but I guess it's too late to read the warning label to the people in my life, isn't it? Now they're all part of it and no matter what I try they'll be affected too, but I should have known that already, but I guess I didn't. And sometimes I wonder how much in good conscience I can dump on my friends. OR am I really dumping on them, perhaps I'm not at all maybe it's what they need or deserve. Because when I look at them and see their colors floating around them- the pink, the blue, the red and even black floating around them but never expanding as if trapped by some invisible force- but I can't see my own colors at all and maybe my protective force was shattered time and time again and the colors of my life escaped me somehow and maybe that's why I'm so drawn to people. I need color to live my life. Or maybe my lack of color draws them to me like a moth to a flame and like that moth they live a short victory before being engulfed in flames. They have their colors and ask me what's wrong with me. Why are you sad? Why aren't you happy? Why aren't you angry? Why don't you feel? Without my colors I'm empty inside and maybe that's why I can't be happy, because happy doesn't make me feel. Pain and hurt that makes me feel. I cut myself deep and let the blood trickle down my arm then I take the blade and rub it on both sides with my blood. I make a blood oath to myself that I will feel one day. I let blood run all over me and then I rub salt into the cut and sit back and revel in the ecstasy of a feeling even if it is intense pain. And maybe that's what my friends and family don't understand, I can't be truly happy because I can't feel anything- even happiness. Its the absence of feeling and I just want to feel something- but pain is the only thing that makes me react anymore- and if it's all I get then so be it- I want to have the pain. If only I could take you out of your colors and into my absence you would see that the only true color lies in that little blue pill that tastes like sugar until your mouths fills and tastes true bitterness for the first time, the bitterness that only true colors bring.
I try to look at the world with rose tinted glasses but they shatter and I get shards of glass cutting my eyes and face. Am I now to be blind? Isn't that wonderful? The world tells me to look through glasses, and now I'm to be fucking blinded! What is that? Honestly! Should I then blame the world for my short sightedness? I suppose only time will tell, so lets take a good look shall we? When I was a very young I was a pretty happy kid. Nothing ever got to me, ever. Despite it all I only got more resilient and more insistent that the world was a good place. Some one said that once. Who was it- think, think- do you know? That's what I need to ground me right now- one tangible, coherent thought- I know I know this.... ANNE FRANK! Yes she said it- she said "in spite of everything I still believe people to be truly good at heart." I wonder if she still thought that when she died in a Nazi prison camp, but I digress. What was my point... ah yes? The point is up until I was ten I believed the very same thing. Then my glasses broke, and that's when my eyes were cut open, so I had no choice but to see. I couldn't shut my eyes after that. And the blow that shattered my glasses was just a simple, simple realization:

You can live your life with unhappiness, you can live your life without anger, you can live your life without hope, and you can live your life without love. Now these things remain Unhappiness, Anger, Hope, Love and Pain. And the greatest of these is pain, because it's the only one that you can't live without.

And perhaps it is this revelation that defines the meaning of the commonly used Darwinian phrase "Survival of the fittest." Who defines what the fittest is? Is it a test of pain? Because pain comes in many forms, and if you can't live without pain then survival must come from conquering the effect pain has on you, and you can't conquer something you've never dealt with. So to survive and be the fittest one must be able to take more pain then anyone else. So that means life is pain. And the world tells us differently. It says life is just living- live and let live- everything in life happens for a reason. That's a lie. So it was in fact the world that broke my glasses, it wasn't me at all!

After such a discovery it only seems right that I down a glass of absinthe in appreciation- I watch the green liquid swish around in the bottom of the glass as I toss it back in quick form. I let the magic spread through out me and let it rush to my head. I breathe and wait for the fairy trip to begin. She preens and sways in front of me just a step above reality.

Another glass anyone?


** this is an Excerpt from a book I'm writing. It's called Disturbed Sanity. I would love some feed back from people. Please be constructive though and try to be kind, it took a lot for me to post this. With Much Appreciation, Jaime

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Oh so tired from work... [18 Jan 2004|05:51pm]
So today my day began at 4:30 in the morning. I hate getting up for work. I work at a steel mill and let me tell you factory work sucks. I have to go and do a terrible job and if thats not bad enough i have to be there for twelve hours. When I was younger I thought it would be so great to live on my own. I figured I have a nice loft apt. with a cat and a dog. I'd have a real cool job, something that all my friends would envy. And then low and behold I wake up to find myself at 21 living in an apartment that is literally seven steps long and five steps wide. I work my ass off twelve hours a day and I hate my job more then anything in the world and it is only every two weeks that a paycheck arrives to remind me why I'm there, and those are the good days. Today is not one of those days. And if thats not bad enough I live in a city where I know no one at all and spend all my time either at work, asleep, or pacing my ever growing thread bare carpet that is a crappy brown color thats so worn that only when i move the furniture can I find traces of what the original carpet looked like. I shouldn't complain I suppose, I know that other people have it much worse. I suppose I'm only disappointed to wake up and live a mediocre existence when I what so much to do something grand or elegant with my life. Needless to say that elegance is not found at #5 shears where I work at Dofasco. Honestly, this isn't they way I thought my life would be, but then I suppose that I could ask that of any one; Is this the way you thought your life would be?
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A quiz [17 Jan 2004|08:33pm]
[ mood | amused ]

What will your last words be? by cum_on_bitch
Your LJ username
Your real name
Your sex
Your age
Your last words will be..."Fuck You!"
Created with quill18's MemeGen!
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my poem [17 Jan 2004|08:13pm]
[ mood | listless ]

well there it is one of my poems... i like that one i wrote it in ajax two summers ago when i was waiting inside a van for my friend to come out of a store.... I rather like it, but if you don't thats okay... feel free to comment on why you don't i rather like good criticsm, it make my poetry better. Anyway enjoy, or not, its really up to you.

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[17 Jan 2004|07:59pm]
Pretty, Pretty Parking Lot

Chaotic is the world today seeped in misery
we find things to distract ourselves from the
horror of the day we're bombing people again
as we drowned in our justifications thousands
dead in Africa from starvation as we over eat
aye me says you I am not responsible but even
as I write this I destroy the planet as a saw cuts
through more of our precious natural resources
and yet- yet I smile as I sit in a parking lot full of
cars lined up so prettily on the pavement as I see
grass growing through the cracks- how can I not?
-Jaime-Rayne Kennedy Stone
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[15 Jan 2004|07:00pm]
[ mood | drained ]

Hello to whomever it is that listens to you when you send things out into cyber space. I have today started a live journal, and I want to use this a place to bitch and moan as I please when I need to. I have another site like this ( My Xanga Site ) but all of my friends are fond of going there and sometimes its best to start over if you will.... even if its just on the net. So anyway welcome to my site whomever feels like coming.... eventually I think of something witty or intelligent to say.... but not today.

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