it's the only splash of colour in a greyscale world

He gives strength to the weary
and increases the power of the weak.
Even youths grow tired and weary,
and young men stumble and fall;
but those who hope in the LORD
will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint.
- Isiah 40: 29-31

PROFILE

grace.

aka gracey
Christian!
241093
rgs
twotenner '07
twelver '06
rgsAC!
buckle cad
CAPper 2007 <3

The fun stuff is at the bottom, scroll DOWN to see! :D

LOVES

GOD <33
drawing :D
deviantART
rayne jazzo muni nana nancy and everyone else who's made a difference in my life
my family!
<333

SPEAK!

LINKS

11206! 21007!
theFAMILY<33

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CREDITS

*adobe photoshop
*blogger
notepad xD
me (:

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Hehe I know this clock doesn't fit in with the blackwhitegrey theme...but I couldn't resist...

This thing is so cheater...it started counting at 238...

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Monday, 1 October 2007

Been blogsurfing. My mugging motivation sort of...faded away. -shrugs- Don't care much at this point.

Why does everyone seem so shallow all of a sudden? And happy? Why is everyone so happy?

Maybe I'm just being hypocritical.

No, I know I am. As well as being self-centred and hateful.

Am I really that different? Have I changed so much?

"I'm glad you are still the person I liked since P5"

I'm flattered, but I'm not that girl you remember, you know. I don't think you'd believe me if I told you.

I'm avoiding Facebook like hell (no, I do NOT have an account). It's way too addictive. Like drugs. And somehow I just don't like the stuff you do on there. I mean, like, fight your friends? How is that fun?

Been listening to a song over and over again. Wanhui wrote it in my notebook.

I'm No Good by Amy Winehouse.
(Click above. Warning: the video is slightly explicit)
Meet you downstairs in the bar and hurt,
Your rolled up sleeves in your skull t-shirt,
You say "What did you do with him today?",
And sniffed me out like I was Tanqueray,
'Cause you're my fella my guy.
Hand me your Stella and fly,
By the time I'm out the door,
You tear men down like Roger Moore.

I cheated myself,
Like I knew I would,
I told you I was trouble,
You know that I'm no good.

Upstairs in bed with my ex boy,
He's in a place but I can't get joy,
Thinking on you in the final throes,
This is when my buzzer goes,
Run out to meet you, chips and pitta,
You say, "when we're married",
'cause you're not bitter,
"There'll be none of him no more,"
I cried for you on the kitchen floor.

I cheated myself,
Like I knew I would,
I told you I was trouble,
You know that I'm no good.

Sweet reunion Jamaica and Spain,
We're like how we were again,
I'm in the tub, you on the seat,
Lick your lips as I soap my feet,
Then you notice likkle carpet burn,
My stomach drops and my guts churn,
You shrug and it's the worst,
Who truly stuck the knife in first.

I cheated myself,
Like I knew I would,
I told you I was trouble,
You know that I'm no good.

I think I don't trust God enough. Guilt's eating away at me.

...I'm gonna shut up now.

Labels: sad, self, song, tired

wings to the wind! at 2:02 pm