The Places You Found LoveEveryone, but you especially as a woman, is biologically programmed to find babies cute. It's an evolutionary imperative, because the rational thing to do when you've got a screaming, shitting dependant taking up your food, is to kill it, and we need something to stop us doing that. It's also why people are generally attracted to big eyes and smooth skin - because they're characteristics of children.And I'm not saying this to detract from the beauty of parenthood, or to make you sad, I'm saying it to point out that this fact doesn't make a baby's laugh any less wonderful. And I don't think the source of anything can make it less so.This is why I can point out that any form of love isn't God or fate or destiny, it's that if two people have a strong emotional attachment, their children are more likely to survive.Atomic bombs are beautiful.So I will say that the me I am now, will and always has been feeling what I feel, but that sentence doesn't even make sense until we consider that
The Reasons We DieWhat I meant to say was that sometimes I just stare at the cigarette in my hands and beg for it to stop messing around and just kill me already.But I figured you don't want to hear that.
The Shifting Nature of RealityYou asked me, "In these dreams, what does it look like?" I told you it looks different every time. Sometimes it's like a million feathers falling, sometimes it's like snow, sometimes it's like little stones, sometimes like ash, sometimes like a fine sand blowing across the hills. It's always silent. It falls around me but it never touches me. It never sticks. I told you sometimes I see dim figures walking in the distance through all the falling white. I told you I wish one would turn around and come to me. I wish one had your face. I wish the pink of your cheeks and blue of your eyes would appear to me unveiled from out of the drift. But the sad small figures don't turn around. They walk on, shoulders low, and disappear. I just watch them. You said, "I'm here now," and touched my hand. "I'm here now."
The Overuse of MetaphoresYou smile like it's an accident that comes without an apology.
The Time Gone ByTick tock. All day. Every day is tick tocking by. There is no clock in your office that ticks or tocks, but you can hear the tick tock in your head. Tick. That's another second of your life gone, you think. Tock. That's one more second waiting for the man to tell you what to do. Tick. I'm a thinker, you think. Tock. Time to be a doer. Tick. You walk into your boss' office. Tock. I quit.The clock stops.
The NuancePlay it one more time please, I need to hear it again. I need to make sure that its the only sound in my head. Play it again for me, I want to hear it once more. I want to make sure the only sound is correct. I don't want to hear that stare again. I don't want to see those words. I'll play the part again, I need to play it again. I need to make sure that every note is right. Give me a second to rehearse that part once more, I haven't been playing it right this entire time. I know it might sound right to you, but it doesn't sound right to me. I can't hear those words anymore. I never want to see that stare again. I have to keep playing. I never want to hear that again.
The Silence Goes On For YearsIn case of emergency, break glass. Throw plates. Cave to the insecurities you've harbored all along. Scream. Curse. Panic. Accuse her of never loving you, even though you know she did and still does. Tell her you never loved her. Tell yourself. Feel the world crumbling around you. Rip the rest of it down. Ignore her pleas. Her tears. Your regrets. Watch yourself leave, unable to stop your own feet. Slam the door. Keep walking. Realize, too late, that you didn't mean it.
The Art of Finding FlawsMaybe that's all it means, to grow up; to watch your heroes become human, right before your eyes.
the Millennia LaterDesolation has its own stark beauty. It's in the limbs of dead trees twisting up, pleading at the grey sky. It's in the air, cold with a faint hint of smoke and the barest breeze that stirs up the dust at your feet. The white-grey ash falls like snowflakes, dusting your hair, your coat, your mask. You catch one of the flakes and it crumbles between your gloved fingers. The ground is packed as hard as concrete under your boots as you turn your back on this cold, still world. You look up; the moon is barely visible. You will carry that memory with you as you go back underground. Mankind no longer has use for the stars.
Es dificilEs dificil saber que hacercomo hacer su vida, donde, con quien, todopero no se debe de olvidar que, mientras aun hay esfuerzos, aun hay esperanzael miedo a fracasar es muy normal, el hacerlo mal, tomar una mala decisionpero nadie dijo que la vida era fácil, pero los problemas siempre estarán presentespodemos llegar lo mas lejos que queramossoñar todo lo que puedastener todo lo que necesitas, siempre y cuando sepas lo que este sorprenderás que tomar las decisiones que a ti te gustan, te llevaran muy lejosy puede que el camino sea difícil, y que habrá momentos en el que quieras llorarporque aun que no quieras aceptarlotodos somos salvajes, todos somos sensibles, todos somos cariñosos, todossomo lo que queremos ser, siempre y cuando tu creas que puedes hacerlosin importar lo demás.Si tienes lo que quieres que sea lo correcto, si tienes lo que necesitas se felizAun si las cosas estén tan mal, que solo quieras, dejarlo todo, que si
Left BehindWalking down the street is hard. Well, it's physically easy. But mentally, it's a struggle. You have to get out of bed before you can even do it, which is hard enough. Then you have to make yourself look presentable, even though you never are. You have to look at yourself in the mirror and make sure your skin isn't so transparent that it shows the weak blood beneath. That, and, you know, zits.Even if you do manage to get out of the door; which is not always the case, as sometimes it isn't willing to open; you have to face the judging eyes behind the curtains of every house you pass. You have to listen to their whisperings, their deceptions and insults and lies that you always seem to believe. Sometimes you want to scream at them, tell them off. But you know that when the door opens they deny it all, they say it's in your head, that you're mad. They haven't the faintest idea, as they say, why you would accuse them of engaging in such horrible behaviour.If you manage to get out o
No Longer NumbI'm tired of being what you want me to beFeeling so faithless, lost under the surfaceDon't know what you're expecting of mePut under the pressure of walking in your shoes.I walk into my house, and I'm instantly bombed with my parents yells."Why do you have an F on a gym test?!""Did you even study?!"I sigh, closing the door behind me as my little sisters disappear upstairs to play."Sorry mom, sorry dad...."(Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow)Every step that I take is another mistake to you(Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow)"Mom, I don't want to do-!""You're going to take swimming, and you're gonna like it.""Trust us, Veronica, we know what's best for you."I bite my tongue, like I have to do everyday to survive.I've become so numb, I can't feel you thereBecome so tired, so much more awareI'm becoming this, all I want to doIs be more like me and be less like you.I'm reading a oneshot that one of the people
Something I wanted to share.Today, after leaving the optician, I brought out my phone and dialed a number. Several moments later, someone picked up.We talked for a while, and while the person was blabbering some things about the cats, I realised something.For the past few years, my mother hasn't always been there for me. Most of the times, she was working - until she took a little break for a year or so. In that year, she worked at home, thus, I almost saw her everyday.During those years, she wasn't always a Mom you'd wish for. She wasn't really a supporting one either, and sometimes, she even did some things, which I wasn't too fond of. Because of this, I kind of fell into a depression, together with the happenings at school.After the beans got spilled, I had to visit a psychologist various times. Unfortunately, I didn't really go well with her in my opinion - since nobody took me seriously. So, after a few months or so, I decided to quit it. I started to lie about my feelings, and after a while, they
Sad days......Even on sad days....the ink still flows through my penbut it`s sad pictures that are paintedwith the words of a broken heart......© Lissie Bull. 2014
Today we buried my uncle.Today was the funeral for my Uncle Paul. He is the fourth sibling Papa has had to say goodbye to, along with both his parents when he was only eight. Papa has seemed so at peace as Uncle Paul struggled with cancer. They visited all the time this last year, especially after the terminal diagnosis was given in February. I watched Papa at the reception this afternoon; he talked with his siblings, cousins, and nephews and nieces, and held his grandson. He smiled a lot, laughed, and joshed around with family and friends.He seems at peace.Then I thought about what he might be like alone. If he weeps or has wept in private over the year as the radiation treatments failed to have an effect, as Paul’s health deteriorated, when his brother was confined to a hospice bed because he could no longer move.I pictured Papa singing to the goats during the morning milking with tears on his cheeks, his voice choking up until he eventually leans his head against the warm, hairy side of the doe, wa
100ThemesChallenge - Two RoadsYou are well within your rights, at any moment, to stand up and say, "No, this is not who I am. I'm afraid you've mistaken me for someone I'm not."You can make the world more beautiful by simply refusing to lie about it.