..and i was under the impression that murder was unlawful.

How do I even begin to explain the combination of fury, disbelief and despair i felt upon watching this video? Normally when I feel compelled to write I don't even need to think. My emotions control the keyboard, the flow of words and the meaning behind them. But, right now, I'm in shock. I'm infuriated. I'm incredulous. The desperation is overflowing as I search for some means of reconciliation as to why anyone of sound heart and mind could be so cruel as to murder, with good conscience, a helpless infant.
This video is revolting. It sickens me to my very core. My body cries out in pain as the pressure in my chest increases. My mind is frozen, searching desperately for a reason why such a cruel abomination of God's will is not considered by our government to be unjust.
More disturbing still, how any living person with the consciousness of family- a mother, father, sister, brother, son or daughter, could actually contemplate electing this heartless monster to be ruler of the free world.




Where is the vindication in his malignancy for an infant's life? How can he justify wanting to save soldiers' lives by surrendering in Iraq, yet so callously cast his vote to allow premature infants to suffer mercilessly for their short lives, only to die in complete anonymity? When a soldier dies I will mourn, death is a tragedy no family should have to bear, but that soldier volunteered himself, his life, consciously acknowledging the possibility of his own death. The Nation will mourn, will protest, will fight, to end the deaths of our soldiers, but tell me who is mourning the deaths of defenseless children? Why are we justifying the murders of the innocents?
The murder of a child, his or her life in the hands of their mother and father, is an abomination of the human race. It sickens me to acknowledge that in our feckless selfishness our people will 'eliminate' a conceived child.
Congratulations, Mr. Obama. You have your "change". You have successfully utilized your political power to unscrupulously tell the world it is perfectly acceptable to murder their children. God's children.
You throw around the number of deaths from war. Blame Bush. Blame the Republican party. Blame ANYONE, as long as it helps your campaign.
Well, here are some numbers for you;
Every day more than 4,000 children are murdered.
Mathematically, that is an average of 1,460,000 deaths every year.
Since January 22, 1973, over 50,000,000 have been killed.
That blood, Mr. Obama, is on YOUR hands.
I truly hope that helps you sleep at night.




*if this video affected you in any way, and I truly hope it did, here is a link to the site of the Pro-Life Day of Silent Solidarity
http://www.silentday.org/
On Tuesday, October 21, 2008, we will be silent. If you would like to join us, get in contact with me via facebook or myspace.

can I please grow up now?

Oh, Abilene, i claim to love you.. and in a sense I do. I love being my own person, making my own decisions, living away from home.. but, wait, what am I really claiming here?
This is my home.. 8 months out of the year.. and how am I living it?
Am I being my own person? Or merely following the path set before me by my peers.
My own decisions? Hardly. More often than not I'm falling subjective to the will of my friends who insist I 'be more social'. More social? Your pathetic idea of being 'social' reeks of the stale smell of beer and liquor.
'You should really try to be social, Brit. Meet new people.'
Sure, I'll meet to people. First, let me down 5 beers and a few shots so I can get past my excruciating social anxiety and converse with people whom will be completely strangers in the morning, while I press ice to my head and regurgitate my liquid courage.
Wait. Stop. What just happened? Where is the independent person I claim to be?
The reflection in the mirror seems exhausted. Eyes, once bright and intriguing, now surrounded by the shadows of the the night before. Skin, once flushed with sunset hues, is pale and sullen, streaks of pale gray fall down from my eyes. The tears are involuntary now, brought on by the shock of my own recognition.
Who am I? I have absolutely no notion of my own self.
I am that one subjected to the desires of her generation.
I am everything everyone wants me to be.
Everyone but myself and my God.
HE wants me to live for HIM. ONLY HIM.
And who am I living for?
THEM.
I'm struggling now. My sense of self has dissipated at a rate I cannot even fathom, so that I no longer know when I actually WAS myself.
How long have I been a puppet to the will of my friends?
Friends.. there is a strange word.. those are the people who care about me, right?
They care about my well-being, my hopes, desires, dreams?
Facebook says I have hundreds of them. Hundreds of people who look at the pictures of the pretty girl with her pretty friends and the hideous glaze of intoxication in her eyes.
Judge me. I'm sure you all do, and you have every right to. Maybe you could come to some conclusions about myself I've yet to understand.
The only conclusion I can come to is that I have absolutely no idea what friends are. Who they are.
So, here's a test for all my 'friends'.
Do you know anything about me, aside from my appearance?
Do you know that I have a desire to change the world?
That I've read more books for pleasure than I could ever actually count?
That I'm intelligent?
That I would MUCH rather talk about politics and religion than the latest episode of "The Hills"?
That I hold myself at such a standard that I experience a complete sense of failure if my grade drops below a B?
That I am MUCH more inclined to sit at home and read a book than go out and pretend that my ability to throw a ball into a plastic cup half-filled with stale beer actually holds some meaning to my life?
Do you have any idea that I have struggled for YEARS losing and gaining weight so that I may fit into the mold of 'beautiful'?
That I have been hurt. Extensively. By a lot of people. Most of whom I gave the title 'best friend'. Some of whom I had given the title 'boyfriend.'
So,
I am sorry if I'm a bit anti-social.
I am sorry if I refuse to accompany you to a five-kegger.
And I am DEEPLY sorry if our 'friendship' suffers because I am ready to grow up and move on.
But I will no longer be held back by boys who would rather think of me naked than think of me fondly, and girls who appreciate my wardrobe more than they appreciate my well-being.

I'm sure I've offended more than one person here.. but maybe its about damn time somebody brought you to reality.
I guess we'll see who my friends are after this goes public.

Thanks for reading.

pieces.

she's perfect, isn't she?
everything i couldn't be.

it doesn't help that you're happy.
though, i'm sure it should.

comparatively, she's all.
that.
it.
every
thing.
i wasn't.
i can't.

be.

i won't pretend.

i would have,
for you,
anything.
for
everything.

you.

everything. i'll never have.
and more still,
forever.

i didn't know
couldn't.
wouldn't.
until.

you're gone.
i'll let it go.
let you,
go.

i must.

for..saking sanity
and life.
i let this go.

and for life,
i go.

forever.

Lord, make my life significant.

Here we are. The first week of my third year of college. I can't complain about my classes.. I love them all. I actually have no legitimate complaints right now aside from my complete lack of sentiment regarding anything. Nothing seems to spark an emotional high.. that nothingness only seems to petrify my emotional low. I'm unconscious as to the rationale of my emotional state. I only know that something has to occur, and soon, to remove me from my current emotional neurosis.
I'm scared, I don't know of what.
I'm tired, even though I sleep.
I'm sick.
My mental state is affecting my physical state.
Why?

Maybe I'm afraid of insignificance.
Maybe I'm tired of monotony.
Maybe I'm sick of myself.
Maybe I'm manic, depressed, unbalanced, nonsensical.
insane.
Choose your synonym. I'm sure it applies here.

There is a bottle of Welbutrin XL in my medicine cabinet.
It's almost full.
I've been off anti-depressants for over a year.
I cannot throw them away.
I loathe dependence.
My invisible crutch.
Depression; Yes or No?
Yes and No.
I'm maniacally sane.
I'm integrally broken.
Nothing makes sense.
Maybe it isn't supposed to.

Maybe tomorrow is my savior.
Maybe tomorrow is my breaking point.
Maybe yesterday was.

Maybe.
Maybe everything.
The aggregate of my life is in today.
In tomorrow.
In every day.
And every day is nothing to tomorrow.


I conclude nothing. I never expect to. I only raise more questions.
I do come away with one thing.
This prayer. My prayer.

Lord, make my life significant. Let me fulfill your will. Whatever that may be.


Amen.