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DistressesSo many mysteries of life, too shrouded
What will I become?
You are all I need for now
But I just cannot say it
Not to you or myself
Killing off my dreams
I can't seem to stay alive
This is wistful words of confusion
Is it too late to cancel the world?
Reduced to sickly heaving every try
What is this life?
I feel you'll leave again
I'll never forget the pained whisper
Leaving myself behind
You couldn't have come at a better and yet much worse time
I wish to be relieved
Everything has become far too much for me
Have I said it yet?
Didn't think so, no
I left in pain
Willing to reclaim a friend
What's made me do this?
RememberThe world has ended
And I'm alone
To think I was dying
But yet not, now so prone
To confusion and helplessness
So tired and in distress
I scream for a message
Someone save me
What am I to do
To pick up these pieces
I cannot believe this
That you'd strike me so true
I cannot deny it
You've broken me again
I didn't think it was possible
Have I been deciev-ed again?
I do not understand
This adult life anymore
I do not comprehend
What living is, past my door
Dying in myself
Convulsing in paranoia
You bested me this time
I thought I had won
And I really had, too
But then you came
And downed me, damn you
I want to believe
Is it lies or just truth?
I'm vying for reason
Why is this so you?
SicknessHow could you deny
Such an unforgivable lie
The lie you forced me to live
That was then
The dire end
Is final; Leave me alone
Why must you persist
I do nothing but resist
I cannot seem to escape your terror
Stay away, lest I kill
Does my hatred fit the bill?
Move yourself back to nonexistence
I plot and plan for days ahead
To decide upon this dread
Fate must be working against me
Morose ConfusionI've held my candle up to you, to beg for some sliver of recognition
Digress back to the original point of interest, and so I go with the flow
The conversations are the same, but I prize them anyway
Not sure you care that all I want is something better
Something slightly more interesting to outshine all our normality
But it's all the same to you, and I prize it anyway
I try to stray, to draw your attention to other things
It works for a bit, and I'm content
Then I say something to tip you off and it's back to business as usual
If it's all the same to you, I'll prize it anyway
I went with my gut and threw myself out
Exposed my own truth to you, to hopefully make you see
And you noticed, or so I thought, but you've not brought it up since
All I wanted was something different to outshine the normality
I paid my verbal due to show you my respect
But it seems like everything else is irrelevant
I prize it anyway
Too scared to reiterate my simple wish,
I've sensed a sort of avoidance
MonetizeIf I had a dollar for every suicidal thought
Maybe I would not be such a failure
Wailing so distraught
If I had a quarter for all the times I have receded
I think I'd be wealthy enough
For happiness to come as needed
If I had a dime for every time life was without meaning
In time I could probably come close
To finding out I was just dreaming
If I had a nickel for every second I was bored
Nothing plain and never pain
Could stab through me as a sword
'Twas I given a penny in my moments of despair
I'd pay to disappear forever
No joy and fellowship would I ever share
But alas, none of these things could come to be
So solitary on this path I stay
Confused on whether I'm truly free
FailureI'll never know what I said
To make you go right out of your head
Then you left me for dead
And I was just breaking bread
With the evil
I can only be me
Only wanted to be free
You didn't have to believe
Anything I'd ever preach
But I'm sorry
It was not good enough for me to see you cry
Day after day it was a lesson in the art of war
Friendship is nothing to a scheming whore
The monsters of my worst fear came alive
Now twas up to me to retreat or retry
That cadaver's magicks infested your mind
Left in silent sacrificial sabotage, deleting all our time
It used to be a journey towards a prosperous life
But the league of you and me would lead to insanity
It came with no meaning to wish you'd die
For I could only try, but why..?
Never figured out who was really to blame
Never saw the light of the deviant point of our stray
Why should something have to end that way?
Abscond from this unwanted hate
Tired of submission to the cruelty of fate
Regret is a bitch
Brutal Truth(Please note that when I say 'you' here, it's directed to everyone who has been, is, or had tried to bring me down, ruin my life, et cetera.)
How am I supposed to explain that some days I just do not want to get out of bed because of the crushing pain I feel? There are days that I do not even feel like living, I don't see how I could get my parents to understand that. They're constantly angry at me, pretending they care. Yes, I know I'm a failure, you don't need to remind me. I don't think my drugged up mother could understand that I quite honestly want to die right when I wake up. My father is completely ignorant to the fact I'd rather just lay in bed all day and cry, some days. But I forget that none of this matters, that I have to somehow find the strength to carry on, I have to somehow force myself to get out and pretend my life means something. I don't know how I'm supposed to explain it to anyone. I type it all out perfectly well, but mercy on me if I have to speak it. I don't ge
ReleaseI apologize for my existence
Keeps getting in your way
What good is it to anyone?
And yet, I cannot think of any day
You didn't smile and merely side-step
And avoid me completely
I'm too foolish for you
You never cared to look at me
Didn't bother to answer anything
My concerns were just too petty
And that kept you happy
Knowing always that you were better
No matter how I'd flit and fetter
Saying how I'd never changed
And that suited you, that forceful frame
Suddenly my use was gone
You gave no warning, gave no sign
So when I pained myself for you
As I always had, t'was your fun
Now found too unremarkable
Far too ordinary, overdone
I didn't know what had happened
Until it was too late, past the setting sun
CryoverseAlone and deaf in a world that hates me
In a whisper, I recede.
Never rise into the light
Fire comes with determination
Whisk me away, afar...
But I surrender my absence,
Nothing to accomplish here;
So serene with apathy and doubt.
Humbled anger -
And naught for tomorrow.
Can I exist in silent singularity?
Or, maybe, cease in monotony...
My wings unfold.
Chronicle of a Past WinterThere has been only a few moments in my life where I have truly felt alive. The following bit of writing is a small chronicle detailing one of those events:
Four years ago this December, I was a very different person than the person who sits here writing this today. I was 16 and a junior at a local high school. I was skinny as a twig after lots of weight in during the previous year.
The year had been up and down. I had fallen in and out of love with a girl who was more confusing than a rubik's cube. A month after our break up, I lost my grandpa. He had always been an inspiration to me and he had always shown me how powerful knowledge really can be. I want to be the kind of man he was and I will never forget the impact he had on my life. Somehow in all of it I managed to stay sane and grind my way through day-by-day and month-by-month.
The first four months of school flew by fast. My Chinese improved rapidly as I took up as a teacher's assistant with my Chinese teacher. I was att
a small tidbit of a personal pieceprompt: talk about a place you love, conveying your peace with it without outright saying that you love it.
I have three lamps in my room, and two of them are hardly very bright. Both sort of cast everything (except for the cluttered corners) into a soft glow. The other only works when it's dark outside and the other lights are off. It throws everything into a blue-ish glow and somehow makes it feel like a place faeries would escape to.
The bookshelf is small, but it's enough to fit my favourite books and memories. The walls and ceiling are painted blue and green and are covered in posters and art and doodles so I can't see enough of the colours to regret the crappy decorating job I did as a kid. My blankets are soft enough for my cat to sit on and he smells like sugar cookies and looks like home so I'm happy if he is. The desk is covered in marker that bled through my paper and paint that I couldn't get to stay on the page.
Sometimes it's sil
The SunflowerMy grandpa had a garden
It was the most magical thing I had ever known
And is probably the reason I love nature so much now
When I was little, he would take me outside to his fields, where rows of beautiful flowers, plump tomatoes, and so much more were planted in straight rows. Behind that was a green patch where an Indian tribe had made their home for what seemed like a very, very long time. We found arrow heads scattered almost everywhere, and even the occasional bone or two. Nearly all of my childhood memories resided in his yard. Well, either there or his kitchen. But thats a different story
I remember going to the store with him, hand in hand. We picked out seeds for the years crops. He would get the seeds packs he needed, and I got the seeds packs that had pictures I didn't know, because "I wanted to see every plant that ever existed." My words exactly. My grandpa would laugh and tell me there was way to many plants for that kind of dream, but I still wanted to try. I had always
Bawling BrawlYou're a bully. A pathetic nuisance like any other.
From an early age, you slammed me down,
and I didn't even realize that it was you doing it.
You were subtle and I wasn't being strong because I didn't have a reason to be.
I got sick of you fast. I refused you.
You don't deserve to be a part of my life.
And you think I'll forgive you?
No matter how many times you ask,
plead, beg, cry, whine, scream, and yell,
you will never be a part of me because
I am stronger than you,
I am wiser than you, and
I can play your game.
You want to kill me.
You hate me. Now?
I hate you.
I want you dead.
I choose to live.
I choose to fight.
I want you dead.
PancakesMy grandpa was a cook in the navy
Every morning when I was over, he would make me MnM pancakes from scratch. Yeah, they always got a little burnt, but that was fine. While he cooked, he told me stories of his days in the navy. I would sit on a little chair next to the griddle he used to make the pancakes, listening intently and eating the leftover MnMs. Every story made my laugh, and he would laugh with me. He could make every situation seem funny, and thats one thing I admired about him; he loved to make people laugh and did it easily. Then he would get the pancakes off the griddle and put them on my plate, pouring syrup on each one to look like a smiley face. He would watch me eat, asking how they tasted after each bite to make me giggle. After I was done, he lifted me up so I could reach the sink, washing the syrup off my face and off my plate. We then walked out to the garden, bringing the same little chair so I could watch him work. This went on for years.
But then my grandpa star
How did i get here? A Short Bio by MeHello, reader. So how was your search through DeviantART fueled by boredom and inspiration coming along. Well if you have a minute, i want to share something to you. If you don't have the time or just want to do something else, i understand completely. I’m always use to that for many years. So How Did I Get Here? Here’s part of my life story that i hope you might learn something from it.
So it all began with me as a baby knocking my head on a corner of table, leaving a strange mark on my head just like Harry Potter. It it was not magic like you read or seen on TV or in books. It’s like magic but it was Creativity that was sparked. Since then, i never stopped drawing or having fun with junk and clutter. From kindergarten to elementary school, i love drawing and creating things that came from my heart and soul. Some things that i encounter became so precious to me that i just kept it to me forever.
But there are some things in life that i’m not proud of. Creativit
I am meI am me. I am a girl with an adventurers heart, but I like being indoors. I am a girl that loves attention and always wants to be on stage. I am a strong person, but people beat me down. I am kind hearted, and always ready to help. I am a girl with pain, but I always smile. I am a girl that cries, and tries to be strong. I am a person who loves to listen to stories, but hates to read. I am random, but I make sense.
I am me for real. I may be random and weird but people love me for that. I may be weak, but my heart holds me as strong. I do feel pain but I get over it. I love adventure stories. I love helping people in need.
I am me and I am proud.
Best before"...continuerai a farti scegliere
o finalmente sceglierai."
Si chiudono gli occhi. Il sonno li accompagna. Gli amanti vogliono esserlo in eterno. Sanno che del loro sesso, che di quel sudato piacere, di tutte le carezze, dei tanti baci che non si contano perché senz'abitudine, di ogni sguardo complice e perverso nell'odiarsi prima di ritornare a cavalcare abbracciati, sanno che tutto questo, che tutto il loro esserci stati sparirà. Non sarà storia che si insegna la loro; a nessuno servirà; se ne dimenticheranno anche coloro che invidiarono il loro riuscire a non separarsi nonostante tutta la vita degli altri li schiacciasse, e loro proprio per questo ancora più stretti l'uno all'altra. La vecchiaia, se non prima, pareva l'unica. Ma il pericolo del divenire anziani è tremendo: non riconoscersi, non riconoscersi più. Si è sempre in tempo; levarsi di mezzo, lasciare spazio ad altri affinché litighino senza passione e soprattutto s
The Lone PineappleSo, picture this: its 9:00 pm in the small town of Goch, Germany, with only teenage stoners and elderly mobs roaming the streets. A foreign girl in a t-shirt reading "okemos choirs" is walking home from a restaurant alone, staring judgmentally at the stoners and respectfully avoiding the gazes of her elders. Suddenly, she stops and looks down. A lone pineapple is at her feet. The girl stares it it for a moment, thoroughly bemused, and then continues her journey home. The end.
***I shit you not, there was a pineapple on the sidewalk...just laying there...what type of self-respecting pineapple just lays around on the middle of a sidewalk, so that anyone can trip over it?***
Perils of LifeEveryone is so god damned fake. You say you missed me, and then make no hesitation to leave me once more. I try to open up and talk about things I've bottled, things that have begun to fester inside, but then anyone I try to let any of it out to disappears. I think I'm really losing it.
My scars make shadows upon my wrists. Small, but just enough to make them pop, enough to make them seem even larger than their already noticeable size. As if I needed even more of a reminder, or an enhancement to the same reminder, of what I already regret and want to pretend isn't there, or ever was.
I lie awake these recent nights, sobbing, reaching out for anyone who isn't there beside me. Each time I open my tear-clouded eyes and witness firsthand the predictable emptiness, I curl up, remembering that my hope was pitifully vain.
Smiles, everywhere. Not one for me, never one upon me. My invisibility proves its existence every day I arrive at school. I did not wish for this. I never wanted this. My ha
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