"“There’s something…strange about the way you two are together… The way he watches you—it’s so…protective. Like he’s about to throw himself in front of a bullet to save you or something.” — Renee Dwyer"
This is my uncle frank and my cousin Brittney. My uncle is one of my heros!
My uncle and cousin Skylar.
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This is my little sister, Danielle. She might be a bitch most of the time but I love ger to death!
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This is my friend Spencer. He is like a brother to me and is always there when I need somebody to talk to about anything nd everything!
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This is my Amberboo! She is cool as fuck and would beat your ass if you say anything about anyone she cares about. ily Amberboo!
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This is jessipoo she is my big sissy and I love her to death. I haven't known her for very long, but know that if you fuck with her you fuck with me and I don't care who the hell you are. We might live states and states apart but seriously I'd walk to where she is if i had to to kick somebodys ass. I love her!
Moonlight Wolfie <3 Listenin to sittin at a bar by rehab and doesn't know if she can deal with her family anymore. I love RRMH kels, amberboo, and thats all who i care about atm
This is a poem I'm like in love with:
The dew of the morning
Sunk chill in my brow-
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
The vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame:
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.
They name thee before me,
A knell to my ear;
A shudder comes o'er me-
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee too well:
Long, long shall I rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.
In secret we met-
In silence I grieve,
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?
With silence and Tears.
George Gordon, Lord Byron, 1816
This is a poem I'm like in love with:
The dew of the morning
Sunk chill in my brow-
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
The vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame:
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.
They name thee before me,
A knell to my ear;
A shudder comes o'er me-
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee too well:
Long, long shall I rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.
In secret we met-
In silence I grieve,
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?
With silence and Tears.
George Gordon, Lord Byron, 1816
