google is my friend

so i am basically obsessed with google, i google all my random questions and find that other people are just as scattered as me. I wonder things such as, which is the most populated city, which is Mumbai, why my cat hates my boyfriend, which i still don't know, how to read Tarot cards, which I had a moment where i was interested, and so so much more. In addition, I will google my name to find out what comes up. I have diminished nearly all the postings which I didn't want associated with me, such as the facebook listing and silly comments on book and cds on amazon. Anyway, I have basically boiled my google search down to a random course listing (which I am strongly considering emailing the professor so he removes it) and my linked in profile. However, I was strolling through the pages of other Marguerites, like Marguerite Duress and so forth, to find about five pages in, a link to this poem site I used to belong to. OK background, back in 2004 (5 years ago) I was in high school: board and miserable, therefore I wrote "poetry," some of it is more poetry like then others having a rhythmic beat, others are just borderline scary, I must admit. I have not looked at these in years. It gave me a rather disturbing glimpse at how distraught I really was. Some of them I favor more than others, but overall I was impressed. I feel like now i lack that sort of passion to write in the same manner. Which is true, the passion was misery and now I am happy. I don't think I realized how unhappy I was. Most of the poem are centered around a person, who I know effected my life but I think I forgot/repressed the degree which he effected me. In hindsight, i know it wasn't just him, there were other things going on, I guess? Nonetheless, I was devastated. I have never been the person to sit around and mop, which is why i cannot recall being upset to this point but I think many of these writings demonstrate how I was really feeling despite everything else, I was just going through the motions. I see that now and it disturbs me. here, let me find one as an example.....

Death's Warm Arms

I want to drown myself in a tear filled puddle,

Slit my wrists with lover’s dagger,

Crush my skull with hatred’s words

And prey to die, escape this evil world.



I’m tired of playing such dangerous games,

With heart and life as lowest bid,

And winners are all soulless traitors.



I’m here alone, empty pockets and a vacant chest.

Because I gambled my heart and lost it all,

I’m left to wander empty shadows and broken memories.



There is no escape except death’s cold arms,

To carry me away from malicious matters,

But I stay here in a endeavor to be strong,

Yet I hate myself for being alive.




uggh. rough..... i haven't decided to delete them or not. Do i care if someone searches my name and then finds 5 pages in some random poems written when I was 17. I don't think so. If you want to search that hard, you deserve it.