MARI,

Why hello.

Mari here.

(Haha, I reminded myself of Gossip Girl just then!)

Alright, so basically a 'Mari' is...
1) pessimistic. A lot. But she's trying to work on that.
2) Pretty Creative. She never puts her pen down. (Or her fingers off of her hiptop, but that's another story)
3) She can make a joke out of anything. She loves to laugh.
4) She's a fighter. She'll do anything for what she believes in. (And yes, she'll even do the dishes once a month!)
5) She's a bit down on herself. (People call her gorgeous, but she disagrees)
6) Procrastinator. (Like the terminator but just...with procrastination.)
7) Insomniatic. Completely. (Like a Vampire! Read Twilight NOW!)
8) She lives off of writing and her friends. (Kate, Cassie, BF [Blogger Family]).
9) Reader. A Lot. (She has no life, seriously.)
10) In love with Edward Cullen(From Twilight!), Stan Marsh(From South Park), Orlando Bloom....(the list goes on forever.)
11) She has many nicknames. (Gummy Bear, Eeyore, Ann, Stan, Janice...) Just stick with Mari and she won't kill you ;)
12) Random. All The Time.
13) Blunt/Brutally-Honest. (She won't lie to protect your feelings. But she's a good listener and advice-giver, and she's always available with chocolate for comfort.)
14) Obsessed With Fashion. She's a retro-girly-punky dresser.
15) Football, Volleyball, Basketball, and Lacrosse-lover.
16) Music. End of story.

So, that's the jist of me!

Other things:

Personal Blog:
http://thestoryofagirlnamedmari.blogspot.com

FanFiction:
http://fanfiction.net/~xxmarixx

FictionPress:
http://fictionpress.com/~xxmarixx

Myspace:
http://myspace.com/xomarixomyspace

AIM:
xo LilMizMari xo

MSN:
lilcraziegrl09@hotmail.com

Yahoo! Messenger:
LilMizMari

ADD ME :D

And WRITING!

(Seriously. In my life I eat, write, read, eat some more, spend time with friends/laugh, write again....etc etc etc.)

I write poetry, fanfiction, and then some original work. Right now my focus is on Fanfic and Poetry, and then the story co-authored with Sammy! :D

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Untitled (Abuse/Life)

I'm cowering,
Behind the door.

Crying,
Level with the floor.

I'm counting,
My many cuts.

Loudly,
The door slams shut.

You're home,
I hide myself farther.

Please,
Dont hit me any harder.

I try,
To quiet my sobs.

Cursing,
You had lost your job.

It's not,
My fault, I swear!
Couldn't,
Couldn't you care?

Its better,
To be mad.
That way,
You won't find me sad.

You'll hit,
Me harder and shout.
Harshly,
Words spew out of your mouth.

Where mom?
Where did she go?
Of course,
Of Course she would know?

Is she in on it?
Did you two plan this?
Is that why,
I never got a kiss?

You're finished,
You leave me there.
You say,
'Clean the blood from your hair.'

I do as you say,
No matter what.
It won't matter,
I'll still get another cut.
-----------------------------------
Relationship. (Biography)

There's an echo in the air, but nobody had spoke.
The pressure in the air, it makes you want to choke.

The atmosphere is strangling; it's awkward.
Can't we forget the past, and move forward?

I wish I could talk to you, but we always argue instead.
The arguements, the fighting, they all fill my head.

There's something; a whisper near the ground.
We look and we look, but nothing is found.

Try seeing it, seeing it from my point of view.
Hey, maybe, just maybe, you always knew.

Our relationship crumbles.
Our bodies, they tumble.

Lets just leave each other, stay away.
Maybe we'll pick this up another day.
-------------------------------------
Rain. (Biography)

Want to know why I love walking home?
I'm alone, and I can think and say what I want. You're not there to judge me.

Want to know why I love running away?
It makes it easier to burn off my steam, that way you won't have to see more gruesome cuts.

Want to know why I love being bad?
It gives me the rush I need, the excitement that makes me happy.

Want to know why I adore arguements?
I get to say my opinions, and you're already too mad to hear what I'm really saying.

Do you know why I adore dressing up in nice clothes?
It makes me feel less ugly.

Do you know why I adore punching walls?
I get to see the bruises, and the weird aching in my body goes away.

Do you know why I hate you?
You constantly put me down, and you're supposed to be the person I can go to.

Do you know why I love the rain?
No one can see me crying.
-------------------------
Wanted. (Biography)

It's all she wanted.

She wanted to walk down the corridor while people cooed, “Such a pretty girl,” and aspired to copy her every move of poise and grace.

She wanted to be the one everyone loved, everyone wanted, everyone wanted to be.

She wanted famous designers like Gucci and Versace to beg her to wear their clothes, and to have Fergie and Christina Aguilera's number in her Fave Five on her hiptop.

She wanted to be different, but in the good sense of the word. She wanted to be that popular girl that was nice instead of mean, brightening lives and making a difference, enchanting all around her.

It was simple. It was what she wanted.

She wanted to be wanted.
---------------------------
Living Out Nightmares. (Fiction)

“Okay,” the middle-aged teacher sighed, “Today we will be discussing the types of dreams, and how they give us a sense of reality.”

“How can a dream give you reality?” A kid asked, seated before the teachers desk.

“Dream are always fake,” The teacher explained tiredly. “Outrageous things happen that could never happen in reality.”

“But, what about that saying? 'Live out your dreams'?” One kid asked.

“And what about psychic dreams?” Another asked.

“Phsychic dreams have to do with our psychics. That's a good question. Dreams often give us goals, things we don't want to happen and things we want to happen.” The teacher said. “To 'Live out your dreams' is to basically learn from them, making them a part of your reality. Living them out.”

A girl seated by herself at the back desk raised her hand tentatively, “Is living out your dreams the same as living out your nightmares?”
----------------------------
Angela. (Fiction.)

I didn't want to be like Angela. I didn't want to have everyone like me for my looks.

I wanted to be pretty, but I wasn't that desperate.

Angela had been the toast of the town, charming everyone and everything she could. Everyone loved her.

And then she grew up. She grew out of her beauty, and the true ugly self had shown through.

In truth, Angela had been as cold as her once beautiful ice blue eyes.

When she'd come back from another one her exclusive foreign trips, she'd come back ugly and mean.

I didn't want to be like Angela.

I wanted to grow into my beauty with grace, and amplify it by personality. I wanted to have the qualities that would help me in life. I wanted people to like me for me, not my looks.

I wanted to be the opposite of Angela.
*********************

My poetry is almost always dark. You can see more on my fictionpress, the link is somewhere in this absurdly long post :/

Maybe I should leave some room for the other authors?

Laters!

Signed,
Mari,