Never been much for Memes...

[second_banana]

But this one caught my eye.

Post anything that you want, but make sure you post it anonymously. A story, a secret, a confession, a fear, a love - anything. Be sure to post anonymously and honestly. Post more than once, if you like/want to. Then, put this in your LJ to see what your friends (and perhaps others who you don't even realise read your LJ) have to say.

I have to be at work at 3:45 in the morning. This is so not cool it's not even funny. T this point I'm pulling an all nighter and seeing what happens.

*hugs flist*

~Susan

Comments

[elvensorceress.livejournal.com]

:(

*worries about you*

Have a good day at work, honey.
I love you.

[(Anonymous)]

Sometimes, what we say can be more hurtful than we may think it is. Other times, what we do is more hurtful. Something we all should do is watch this.

That is my anonymous comment to you ;)

[(Anonymous)]

They are come; all is red
like the blood being shed
and the flames of Pergama, burning
for Helen, homeward returning,
and Creusa that never will.
Yearning for her, but descending the hill,
Anchises’ son bears his aged sire
whom he saved from the raging fire
and holds little Iulus by the hand.
They are bound to seek another land,
bound by a dream of the horse-tamer prince
telling pious Aeneas that since
Hector could not defend their home,
he must take the altar, penates of stone
and seek the black Italian earth.
The Danaans are come; they have crushed all mirth.
Alas for his birthplace, Ilion
whose walls Apollo built; his son
will not know the palace nor the joy
that father Aeneas got from Troy.

The vase is bordered with reeds and flowers;
the purple wine within it sours.

[(Anonymous)]

They are come; all is red
like the blood being shed
and the flames of Pergama, burning
for Helen, homeward returning,
and Creusa that never will.
Yearning for her, but descending the hill,
Anchises’ son bears his aged sire
whom he saved from the raging fire
and holds little Iulus by the hand.
They are bound to seek another land,
bound by a dream of the horse-tamer prince
telling pious Aeneas that since
Hector could not defend their home,
he must take the altar, penates of stone
and seek the black Italian earth.
The Danaans are come; they have crushed all mirth.
Alas for his birthplace, Ilion
whose walls Apollo built; his son
will not know the palace nor the joy
that father Aeneas got from Troy.

The vase is bordered with reeds and flowers;
the purple wine within it sours.

Mmmmmm... Greek Love!

[second-banana.livejournal.com]

*loves*

Okay... this was like a present to me. *huggles you, whoever you may be*

Lordy lordy lordy.

~Susan