iheartyouuu

Hi everyone. (: I thought I'd just let you all know that I've recently created a Facebook page for my photography. To get to my page, click the link below: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Morgan-Smith-Photography/204780262884381 Anyone who likes my work should definitely like my page! Thanks guys. (:

now, i warn you. this post is... not for the faint of heart. it's a piece that i wrote for a specific reason. this is for those people who enjoy blood. murder. death. it's actually an interesting story. Disgusting. Disturbing, in fact. I must be insane. Simply insane. I winced as the bitter smell of blood worked its way into my nose. Of course I was insane. Was there any other explanation? I leaned over the body of my dear friend, Marisa, waiting. I stood, motionless. More or less, emotionless, as she gasped for breathe. Blood was flowing steadily from the hole I had created in her neck. I'm not so good with blood… Insane? Of course. Sh

now, i did not write this. i'm saying that now, so there's no confusion. a girl that i know briefly wrote this for a contest on a writing website, and it's just so fabulous that i have to share it. I had heard many promises before. There were little ones, such as, "I'll be there on time," or, "I'll pay you back tomorrow." Those broken were insignificant in the grand scale of things. But the big promises were the ones that, when broken, damaged a person inside. The only way to prevent getting hurt is to stop yourself before you depend on promises. To stop yourself before you end up believing them. Because nine times out of ten, those promise