Laela Miller, a young woman about to enter her third year of college, has a loving family, multiple friends who care dearly for her, above average grades in above average classes, a strong sense of morals, and young men drooling at her feet. The best part of her life is that nothing she could possibly imagine could change the good things she has. Then again, Laela Miller never imagined that she carried a hideous secret that not even she knew about. Burdened by this secret, she must escape multiple threats and attempts to take her life, all made by the government. With so many new dangers come so many opportunities and questions. The one
The spilling of the ink onto my pad,
The graphite drawing my own creations,
Doing these things help me when I am mad,
Letting out my emotion's declarations.
I put my heart and soul into my art.
Whether I work, write, draw, think, or design,
Play, act, worry, read, listen, end, or start,
The arts will always be my frame of mind.
The theater lets me be someone new,
My sketch pad helps to illustrate my point,
My stories free my emotions that stew,
And songs make my thoughts and words become joint.
I love the feeling I receive from my art
'Cause it calms me when I feel torn apart.
I hate the way you speak to me and them.
You are rude, obnoxious, stupid, and lame.
From you, all the evils of the world stem.
A bit strange, you and I are just the same.
We push people from ourselves, far away.
We are mean and cruel, selfish and liars.
We try to escape from the giant fray,
From the people who can harm us like fires.
Afraid of change and things becoming new,
We push ones we love away from us too.
The bright red, white, and pink roses of the garden,
On the bushes, or on vines,
Climbing up the trellises,
Snaking up the side of the house,
Or just lying on the ground,
Fallen and dead.
The moist, cold rain.
Falling in a rhythmic, soothing pattern, like a soft, sweet lullaby.
I love the rain.
Its cleansing, calming downpour, in the city, in the country.
Washing, relaxing, splashing, puddles of rain rippling when I touch them.
Rain is like a confession, like a get-away, a vacation, like a new beginning.
The rain is wonderful.
The bright red, white, and pink roses of the garden,
On the bushes, or on vines,
Climbing up the trellises,
Snaking up the side of the house,
Or just lying on the ground,
Fallen and dead.
Current Residence: My mind Favourite genre of music: Just about everything except rap, hip-hop, and r&b Favourite photographer: Anna Gedde (I think that's how you spell her name...) Favourite style of art: Anime MP3 player of choice: RCA/Lyra Shell of choice: Ummm... I think I'm partial to the conch. lol Favourite cartoon character: Renton (I think that's how it's spelled...) from Eureka 7 Personal Quote: Aquaqueous is too a word...
Favourite Movies
Too many to choose from...
Favourite Bands / Musical Artists
Coheed & Cambria ~and~ Deathcab for Cutie
Favourite Writers
Edgar Allan Poe
Favourite Games
The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time and The Lord of the Rings: The Third Age