[fr. L. fama, fame + gerere, to carry]
obs. to divulge or disseminate; found now only in olde dictionaries {Cockeram, Bailey}
hence: famigeration, famigerous
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Light Shining To Me...
Plight Not My Enemy Today.
Strife Doesn't Plague Me Today.
Life Seems Much More Enjoyable Than The Weeks Before.
The taste of salt that streams down your cheeks keeps your heart skipping beats. Rapidly your chest begins to cave in on itself. At first you feel that it’s just the shortness of breath and the tightening of your lungs, then you realize that the hole in your chest where you heart once lay is imploding on itself. Looking down and seeing your rib cage and your life crushing in on yourself is the sad and familiar scenario that you strive to let go. It encapsulates your entire existence in a blanket of love that turns into a straight jacket of self-loathing pain and a justified comfort that you’re all too accepting of. What makes this stop? Who makes you grab yourself and extract you from this life as you know it and save yourself? Most will say you have to do it on your own; but the likeliness of that is slim to none. The Devil that wears Prada holds the key to the heart that has never won. Falling once again into the abyss of everything that hurts, everything made sense
I just want to yell to the world, "Fuck you!" I just want to yell to myself, "Fuck you!" I just want to yell at others, "Fuck you!" Sadness and unhappiness seems to follow me wherever I go. I can't seem to shake its tail. I am getting fully saturated with the idea of thinking life is unhappy, yet it keeps following me like a shadow. It's seems to be in my every step, around every corner I turn. It seems to particularly like my company, unfortunately, I don't dig it so much. I've been trained in evasive maneuvers, I've been trained to confront unhappiness and kill it with kindness. Why is it so resilient to my antics and ways of avoiding it? Certainly, there are those out there that don't mind its company. I'm not one of them. I say say, "Piss on unhappiness, and its ways." However, it doesn't seem to care what I think or say. Perhaps things will shed a new light of darkness on me soon. Perhaps it won'
Rough night... hopefully I can find the peace to sleep. I doubt it, ghosts haunt me, fear cradles me in order to not allow for peace, lost in my own heart I have nothing left that she hasn't taken, perilous attempts for a love that doesn't love in return, not in the way I desire and need, searching in the crevasses of hell trying to find my path through the valley of death, welcoming it with open arms and free-spirit, Love once again the enemy of the heart, logical the mind tries to make sense of it all... nothing left, the last bead of blood drains from my veins as the sought-after love will never again take this now loveless soul
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