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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 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.
[ i just wanted to make you something beautiful ]When someone enters your life - no matter how you end up feeling about them - they become part of you.
Whether it's their smile touching your lips
the breaths and hitches in their laugh
a melody that clambers or crawls through your mind
the beat of their hearts
the blur or clarity of their sight
the way their lips trail across your neck
the way they tell you they love you
It’s almost like a disease, a piece of their soul traveling on their breath and into your lungs. There, it becomes part of you. Even what you hate about them: how your father clears his throat after smoking a cigar or how an old friend would always quote bad movies. You can’t help but do it, too.
Because at least once in your life - whether for a moment or a lifetime - you loved them.
And love will break you down to your smallest piece and rebuild you up from there.
And you won’t realize that your sight has changed.
You won’t hear their voice on your tongue.
But it’ll always be there.
the weight of living pt. cdlxxit's a tangle of voices in the midst of rainy 1.53am breakdown
right now i want to cut myself
it feels like an ideal solution
i know it is not
maybe i should throw out my blades
i don't know
i don't know
i do know
i don't want to
the key phrase is just in case
you don't understand
you don't care
i wish .he cared
i also wish he wasn't fucking a fourteen year old harry potter freak with nicer eyes than me
i also wish he didn't spend his lunch times locked away in the drama room with a 52 year old paedophile with marriage problems
i wish i'd never cut myself because it's all these scars that will never fade and they remind me every day of how much i fucked everything up and how much i will never be okay what am i even saying
he reminds me of a sadness i never truly covered up and never truly understood
he reminds me of the gir
Today My Hands Reek of Doctor Office SoapBecause I frantically washed my hands in the back room
Because I’m one anxious little fuck when it comes to needles and
Crying children in the hallways and rooms where the walls are paper thin
Because I nearly pass out when needles are stuck into my arm several times
Because no one can ever find a goddamned vein the first time
Trying to calm myself as the doctor comes back in and the first words out of my mouth are
“So what are some good anxiety medications these days?”
Leave Her AloneThere is a girl.
About twelve or thirteen.
She has depression.
And people bully her!
She may say no one can understand her.
But I can.
I can feel my heart slowly crumbling.
I can feel her pain.
Whenever she tries to stand up for herself, people get mad.
Because I know how it feels.
But all I ask...
Don't bully her.
If your bullying her, your bullying me.
Don't get mad at her if she stands up for herself.
Don't hurt her.
Don't insult her.
You don't know it feels.
But I do.
Don't say you hurt worse.
Because you really don't.
And most of all, if your bullying her.
LEAVE HER ALONE
i read once that
skin replenishes itself
every twenty-seven days.
you lose your skin
waxing and waning.
and within that time,
i have touched that
skin. i have memorized
each crater and astral-burn,
and every rimulose along the
seams of your palm.
you never change-
you're many phases and faces,
but your skin is always
the same substance as
before. your structure is
wholesome. i believe that
inside you there is more than
phenomenon's and numina-
you inhabit more space,
you ellipse more than just
your hands have cradled
a myriad of things, and i've
watched you fade enough times
to tell you that man may scar you,
my inflict a cicatrix upon you while
planting their emblem into you,
that you may fade many times more,
that you may pull one-tide-too-many,
but you are more than skin and soul;
you are more than humanity, more than
dismantled's and incompletes.
more than unfathomable's and
you're more than hands.
Teenage Girls“I don’t know what asshole invented the idea that teenage girls are the cause for all evil, but I really hope that person never has to raise one. I don’t want him to see her dissolve in his fingers as society tells her to eat less, be thinner, be the damsel in distress, be something for a man to fix, be different but not too different, be special but never ever a special snowflake - I don’t want him to watch as she realizes that no matter what she loves, she’ll be made fun of for it. She can simply like her coffee from Starbucks and suddenly she’s vapid and thinks herself poetic. She’ll want to play video games but be called a fake nerd, particularly if she poses in any remotely flirtatious way because for some reason despite the entire community playing games with poorly dressed women they still hate it when a real girl wears less clothing, she will be seen as trespassing in a specifically male space - but when she falls in love with a female-
Nowhere Left to RunListen well and hard, Little girl.
You can't cross this road alone,
It's dangerous to run off into a crowd.
You're ignorant of this cruel world.
You had a hand to hold onto,
But you slapped it away.
Her love notes meant nothing to you.
You never did what she told you to do.
Then you wonder why you're searching,
Searching for the right answers.
She knew everything you need to know,
But you treated her like a dreg.
Listen well and hard, stupid girl.
Grown and lost in the world.
Life is just madness without her.
Always running into forks in the road.
She knew the right path,
But you denied her, now she's gone.
Now you cry, Mother, Oh Mother...
Why didn't I listen to you?
How could I have been so cruel?
And you still cry, Mother, Oh Mother...
I am so confused...
How could I have been such a fool?
And you still wonder why...
You've been down all the brick roads...
There's nowhere left to run.
Your only resort is to let it go,
Let it all go and leave it all behind.
Learn your lesson and take
I'll never be your daughterDad, oh why... Why can't you...
Why can't you accept who I am?
Why can't you accept how I am?
I have never seen this world,
I don't know the things you do.
I know that, and I know youre much wiser.
Wiser than me.
But is that a reason?
A reason for that expression?
The one on your face,
telling me that you think Im dumb.
Dumb and idiotic and worth nothing.
Are you really like that?
Is success the only thing that matters?
Intelligence and smart thinking?
Does someone not perfect not fit into your world?
Do you really think this...
Do you really think I'm not perfect enough?
But why do you do it then?
Why do you say you love me?
The way I am.
You said you loved me,
but to be honest, dad, I can't believe you.
Do you really?
How can you love me?
Why do you look so disappointed?
I can't understand your point.
When we argue you say it's me.
It's all my fault.
Is it really?
Do you really think it's me?
Do you mean it when you say things...
Things like "You should get a psychatrist!"
How can yo
Depression?People have asked me to describe depression. And don’t seem to understand the inability to put it into words. People don’t understand the thought process and the dysfunction inside someone depressed isn’t easily described. So when people ask me to describe it, I can’t quite say what I mean.
Perhaps it is like being in a pit. A dark hole with no light and no comfort. And you try everyday to climb out of it and you can never quite reach the top so you eventually give up. But that’s not entirely true. I don’t always fail at getting out but I don’t stop myself from falling in. And it isn’t a dark sad place all the time. I can be surrounded by people I love and things I love and still not be truly happy.
So then, maybe it’s like a rollercoaster. It’s a ride of ups and downs and ongoing loop-de-loops. Yet this doesn’t justify it either. I can for days without ups or downs. Days without insanity or days without relief. So how i
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More