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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 Dream About HerI dream about her, quite often, actually. It's been nearly two and a half years since I've seen her face to face, and it truly does break my heart when I remember the good times. She was one of my best friends, one of the greatest influences in my life, and someone who could make me smile. However, all good things must come to an end eventually.
Drugs don't just affect you, they affect your friends. When you've been roped into the bad crowd and refuse to turn to the people who love you most, you're going to lose everything you care about. Well, I cared for her, alright. We were nearly as inseparable as Sempai and I, hanging out nearly 24/7. Sure, there were fights, but every friend has a fight. It's when the line is drawn that things get messy.
In my dreams, I remember how she used to be, how fun she was, how silly she acted, and how she was just pleasant to have around. What happened? Why did she decide to go the way she went? To turn to lying, drug abusing, and overall not caring for
One last time. KristaXReaderFor music please listen
Highly recommended after the game scene though
"Two Kings!” Krista piped laying the cards on in the pot laying on my lap. She sat cross legged on the hospital bed with me. Sitting up straight and laid her cards face down in her lap leaning forward, now were both now down to one card. you looked up from my last card and glared at her. For such an innocent girl she had one hell of a poker face. you swallowed the lump in my throat and laid down my last card.
“One Ace.” you stated and crossed my arms challenging her to say it.
‘that’s it! the cat’s in the-’
“Bullshit!” She called out and flipped over the card that had just laid down….a queen,.
“Damn it Krista!” you shouted smacking the pile off my lap then pouted indignantly.
"Can't you just let me win for once." I asked. Krista giggled an
A little thing on BiphobiaFor those not in the loop, as I assume many of you are not, biphobia is just as terrible as homophobia.
If you haven't noticed my incredible gayness, I am bisexual. But wait! (you might be saying) You're bisexual, not gay!(?) Ha. HA. HAHAHAHAHA. No. I am gay. I am not a full on double diamond studded lesbian/gay rainbow, but a nice cute little bi rainbow that appears after a little rain. You know what I mean.
You probably didn't notice but BAM- that was biphobia.
The first point I'm going to bring up is that bisexuals are part of a magical, mystical triforce composed of themselves, asexuals, and pansexuals. For those unaware, an asexual is someone who does not particularly like sexual activities and a pansexual is someone who loves someone regardless of gender and sex. Why are they in this triforce? Because they are sexualities that are constantly believed to be made up. Why? Because many believe that it's IMPOSSIBLE to
How to love a guy who can't love himself.How to love a guy who really doesn’t love himself.
Well first, there are numerous ways you can do this, so just sit back and listen.
Number one rule, tell him to drop his façade, abandon the stereotypes that society places upon him, find the real him, the core, so fragile and so easily able to be hurt.
When you find the real him, who he really is, then look him in the eyes, past all that buff, and all of that strength and mutter a few simple words. ‘It’s okay to cry.’ And when he cries, when he falls to his knees and allows his body to tremble for the first time in decades, you put your hands on his shoulders and say, ‘Everything will be fine’.
And when he looks up at you, with tears in his eyes, shaking out of either shame or anger, you just smile at him, and say ‘No’, not because he’s crying but because you know he’s threatening to close himself off again to the world, and put on that face that he fe
Just me and you.
I don't know what your name is, but you're in my way.
And now it's time to deal with you.
Y'know every time I sit down to think, you always get in my way.
Whether you're trying to distract me, or you just stop me from thinking, you always try to stop me.
Not this time, fella. Or, lady, whichever you are, fuck if I know.
Well. Shall we dance?
Ok, so, let's try this;
I write a story, and this time, keep the hell away.
I'd like to write one continuous narrative where I don't quit halfway through, or have to completely revamp the characters and storyline just so I can keep writing.
Just. One. Story. And don't make up excuses to make me trip up and write a shitty one; I'd like to be actually good for once.
Ever since you turned up, I don't know where my touch went.
But I think I've found it again, and now it's time for you to pack your bags and get the hell out of my life.
Yeah...I think I can write again. How'd you like that, arsehole?
Good riddance to you. Have fun be
Why Can't I?
"For the love of God, stop your crying!" The camp sports instructor towers over me, her hands on her hips. The anger in her eyes makes me want to curl up in a ball and never wake up. "Get back up. Ya' fell only once, girl."
"I- I can't." I whisper through a choking sob. My head is spinning, my lungs feel like they're on fire, my feet... I can't even begin to explain. Maybe I should've told her about it. Then she would've cut me some slack.
"You heard me. Get up."
I flick my blonde hair away from my eyes and try to
RainAs the electric arc sizzles away like frying bacon, two pieces of steel are fused together into one mechanical mass. Its Thursday night, and for us its the last night of the work week. Weekend ahead, money in our pocket, endless possibilities.
But for now, there are 36" mower decks to run. Bright light on a dark night, smoke and sparks, and 8 hours of staring into a false star. The shop is filled with a light yellow haze, it drifts through the air like a ghost as we work away the hours till dawn.
It is warmer than previous nights, winter is coming to an end and spring begins. Its raining!
Not snowing, not hail, not ice that clings to all things, but the continual 'tap, tap, tap' of heavy rain, almost like the distant roar of a forgotten army.
Sparks fly and fill the night, the haze is stifling, creeping behind helmet and vale. Another hand crafted product is born, and ready for processing, on to the paint line and the day crew.
A hot steel plate that will be painted black, built up wit
Can I Just Say I Love You?Well… um… hello there. I didn't think you'd actually read this, but here goes nothing. So I sorta… you know… love you. Yea, I know it's strange to think about. Me of all people too. I just can't help be die a little inside when you say hi to me and walk to her. You know? I just kinda get a little jealous, but I'm too afraid to tell you I love you. So I wrote this note, hoping you'd read it somehow. So, why don't you just tell me you fell the same way? It would be wonderful to hear again. I know you are a little confused and I know this is strange. I'm not good a writing sonnets and I can't look at you in the eye except when I want you to see that I love you. So next time I see you, I'll look you in the eye. Then you'll know I mean it. Because I do. So, I hope I'll get a message from you or bump into you at the store.
And Tonight My Prayer Was XAnd tonight my prayer was:
So today the brightest green of new buds met the clearest blue of the sky. And the blue met the yellow of a freshly picked daisy, which brought with it the clearest white of newly fallen snow. With them travelled the soft pink of a child's cheek, blended with the black of a starless night and the orange of this summer's brightest midday sun. On the road the purple of heather ran alongside as dog to his master. And as they moved on together, they left our world the bleakest grey.
Only then did we notice we'd chased all the colours away.
Her CatalystAs she walks through the maelstrom, the words trace upon the tips of her fingers and press into the stone. Every brick, every crack in the concrete, every crossed and angular stroke in reds and blacks and oranges. The drips of the gasoline pool around the base of her boots, slosh as she steps over the burst pipes and the rubble.
So much rubble. So little outcry. The silence of the city grates on her eardrums and the mantras she'd been forced to memorize. The Seers demanded they observe thirteen years of recitation before they attempt to weave their first World together.
But who other than the Seers can claim the incantations that knot the skeins they twist and pull on like reins hold fast? When have any of the Sisters recorded the visions they traced upon space-time and recited them, left them open for critique and discussion and debate?
Which is why she walks through the chalky soot of the smashed city around her. This all
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More