<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/platform.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d35296331\x26blogName\x3d~So+Dead+Perfect~\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dSILVER\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttps://prozacraddiction.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_US\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://prozacraddiction.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d4458525560546854173', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>
rely on me.
i'm yours.

Kimmii K.
Self obsessed.
If I can't be beautiful, I'd rather just die.
You think she's so good but she's a mess to boot
You don't really want to know me.

Pervert(s) who's planning to watch porn later

material.

I want The Trouble Ring by Boucheron.
I want The Trinity Ring by Cartier.
I want To travel to Venice.
I want To travel to Greece.
I want To return to the U.S.A.
I want Real Love.
I want To rule the world
I want To make them sorry.

not alone.





MusicPlaylistView Profile

alternative exits.

My Facebook
My Legion
My Formspring
Krankhaus

my days, not yours.

September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
March 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
May 2009
June 2009
July 2009
August 2009
November 2009
December 2009
January 2010
February 2010
March 2010
April 2010
May 2010
September 2010
May 2011
June 2011

thank you.

Layout: Kary-yan/Missyan.
Hosts: x o x

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

I'm waiting for an email so I can do my Written Report.. Which is due on Thursday. So while I'm waiting, I shall write a little here.

What makes a good relationship partner?
Seriously.

Looking at myself, I fail to see anything that would make me a good partner.

I'm not pretty enough, let alone beautiful, and that is the first thing guys look out for. People tell me I am, and strangers act interested in me and all.. But looking around, and looking into the mirror, I can't help but wonder what exactly it is they look at when they look at me. Perhaps they see me as a desperate girl who would be willing to give them what they want- Sex? I compare myself to other girls all the time. Every part and every aspect. I am never contented.

I'm not uber smart or intelligent. People may think I am or believe that I am, but I see myself as an average kid. If I were, I would have made it into the news by now. Thing is I'm just some unknown whom nobody bothers about.

I'm not interesting enough. My social life had wasted away over the past years. Sometimes, I cannot find anything else to talk about other than school. I can't go out because I am grounded. My social relationships slowly wilt when I find myself being withdrawn from the outside world.

I'm an emotional wreak. I cry a lot. I rarely feel happy. I feel lonely most of the time. I'm never satisfied. I lack the ability to feel love or to love with all of myself for I am afraid to get hurt. I'm paranoid. I don't want to live a lie.
The quote "Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all"- I'd rather never have loved at all. I'm difficult to understand. I frustrate people. I hurt people because I'm afraid.



I wish I was just perfect.
Is that too much to want?


10:19 PM


Monday, September 20, 2010

Hey Bebbz!!

Kimmii Kamikaze (Me) is on Formspring now!!
Do check it out and follow me!!


FORMSPRING

FACEBOOK


Oh, and join my Facebook group here too!!

The Legion of Kimmii Kamikaze


Alrighty, ciao!!
xx Kimmii


8:45 PM



I just hate my life.
I hate it.

You know what?
Screw it all.


12:04 AM


Sunday, September 19, 2010





Whee..


10:07 PM



Chapter 1: Awake

She awoke to the stream of sunshine seeping through the curtains. Perhaps sunshine was too strong a word. Perhaps light would just suffice.
Little lively flecks of dust skated gracefully in that beam of light. Yellow? Not really. More dull than one sees in happy commercials on the television screen.
Lying in bed, she tilted her head ever so slightly, catching a glimpse of her sleeping husband next to her. She smiles and lifts a hand, only to caress the side of his face, feeling the stubble. She snuggled closer to him and buries her nose in his musky scent – A smell so distinct and familiar, for she had awoken to the same scent for years. ‘Years that seem more like mere minutes,’ thought she. Familiar yet so foreign. As if she had forgot the scent.
She cuddled next to him and placed her arms around his torso.
Her supple body lay next to his, and a finger traced a scar – a souvenir from years ago. Resting her head on his chest, she again smiles. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. His heart beat slow, evenly; with the regularity of a soldier’s march. Perhaps at a solemn state event. She breathed in and sighed, not because she was tired, but because she found beauty in listening to her loved one’s beating heart.
Or perhaps it was her own heart; for many a time had he proudly proclaimed that he had given her his heart.
Tilting her head up again, but more this time, she studies his features. As if from memory, he had a strong nose, with a slight dent in the middle. Not straight, slightly crooked but she had always loved it. His lips were not too thin, though they always seemed to either curve up into a small smile or down into a disapproving frown whenever he wasn’t portraying any particular expression. Today, he was wearing a little smile, like a child having a good dream.
His eyes were still closed. ‘Seeing the views of a dreamer,’ she thinks to herself and brushes her fingers through his thick black hair. How fond she was of her husband – He was like a child to her. Her own child; a precious baby boy she wanted to hold on and love forever.
Unwilling to disturb the peaceful dreamer, she slid out of bed slowly and quietly, and tip-toed to the window.
Peeking though the slit of the curtain, she absorbed the beautiful morning. It was a little foggy, but what can a little fog do to such a luscious spring morning? Down at the streets below, she could see two, no, three children running, with a puppy running alongside one of them. They were laughing and clearly having fun, as children ought to have. Across the street, she could see a maiden walking out with a basket, and a couple other women having a leisurely stroll along the grey, cobbled walkway.
‘How picturesque,’ she said in her mind, in a rather curious tone. Perhaps the scene was too perfect. If only Monet could have seen it. It was art brought to life. It was water colours of a sweetly mellow painting animated.
She turned away and looked at her sleeping husband. “It is a wonderful morning today darling.” A slow deep exhalation of air from the man seemed to agree with her statement.
She turned back and the Sun illuminated her fair face. She was the classic example of a pretty young lady. Neither too mature nor elegant enough to be labelled ‘gorgeous’ but she certainly was pretty enough. Wide inquisitive eyes, and an expressive mouth, now smiling yet again to herself while taking in the beautiful scene of the town.
“It is a beautiful day,” she said aloud to reaffirm it, before placing the drapes back down and going back to bed to snuggle more with her other half.
She slides her body close to him and rests her head once again on his chest.
An unexplainable wave of sadness washed over her and we notice a small worrying crease on her forehead. “Why do I feel sad?”
She shakes it off for the moment. She kisses her husband on his lips, brushes through his hair again with her fingers and whispers to him. “I Love You.”

Then, she decided, it was time to go back to being awake.

It was too perfect to be true.

On a spring morning, with the dust still waltzing in the ray of light, an old woman is curled up on her side, hugging close to her a feather filled pillow, and perhaps, we see a glisten fall from her eyes.
Perhaps, we shouldn’t awake the peaceful dreamer.

Kimmii Kamikaze





12:28 AM