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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.
The Privileged Feminist and the WomanShe was a feminist, born free,
while she was a woman born over seas.
She was the feminist who went to school,
while she was the woman who paid unrightful dues.
She was the feminist who went to college,
while she was the woman forced to work without knowledge.
She was the feminist who preached her corrupted views,
She was the woman whose homeland was on the news.
She was the feminist who spoke her annoying mind,
She was the woman who could only be at peace inside.
She was the feminist who could walk freely,
She was the woman that would get beaten weekly.
She was the feminist who blamed men for everything,
She was the woman who was forced to bare men's offspring.
She was the feminist who could chose her life
She was the woman who didn't make it past twenty five.
She is the feminist who is blind to the world,
who only cares for herself, her life is like a pearl,
She is the woman who cannot show her face,
as an excuse to be modest, faithful and chaste.
She is the feminist who is ignorant t
The gentleman with the paper napkin rose!Lonely and heart broken,
I was that night.
I walked out of my hotel room,
right into the bar and into it's magical atmosphere,
beautiful belly dancers,
I sat down and got me a drink,
wanting to drawn,
all of my feelings,
my love, my life.
wanting to be cold,
not wanting to feel anything,
betrayal is a painful
thing to remember!
So I wanted the ability to forget,
since forgiving was much too soon
for my broken heart.
So intense was this pain,
many years later
I still carry it's scars.
and without looking I was at the distance,
welcomed by someone's interest...
There he was looking at me,
and for the longest time
I could not look away, I got hypnotize
by his Indian eyes...
From a paper napkin he made me a flower,
I thought of this detail for hours.
He walked to me and reached for my hands,
placing the object of his creation between my fingers.
He must have made this flowers a thousand times,
because as he did,
he never stopped looking at my eye
Adorned with RegretAllow me a moment to be Frank..
fine.. fine.. you can be Bob.
I was at the movies tonight, happy as a lark,
lost in my latest cinematic fix and all the while laughter from behind
drew my attention. It was obnoxiously loud yes, but real.
Heartfelt laughter. As the movie wore on though, I sensed something more.
Tried to make out her face but it was too dark. Hair covering half of it,
very short emo style in nature. She sat alone. Laughed alone.
Loud enough so that she felt like she was with the rest of us.
With her bestfriends watching a movie.
The preppy girls a few chairs down from her looking at her like a lost little lunatic. There was a pang of sympathy for her in the micro story i concocted without real basis.
In time it abated. The movie ended.
And I turned to my friend to discuss the film, getting my nerd on.
In the background of my discussion I heard her talking aloud to herself.
Softly. The very things I was speaking about, her eyes shyly glancing at me
as if pleading for me to
... and nobody cares.Can you see these empty eyes, screaming for help? No you can't.
Oh come on, you're not sick! I can't see it! Your answer was. You're thinking of me as a malingerer, don't try to tell me otherwise. You think I'm one of the comfortably sick to get through life easy.
Have you ever asked yourself why you (still) live? What is worth for living? When all problems hail down on you at once and you threaten to suffocate, seeing all your plans and dreams destroyed, you won't consider giving up, don't you?
Come get your ass up, lazy f*ck and get a job again, I once heard you yelling at me. Afterwards I'm asking myself – do you, so called friend, even know me at all? Do you know that the pressure of my past has crushed me into an unstable pile of mood swings, suicide thoughts and psychosomatic sickness? Probably not, because if you'd know me you wouldn't hurt me with your words.
But there are loads of therapists out there, don't whine into my ears any longer, go get your hea
fellow adventurers and others who want to donti know its been a long time sense she commited suicide but i just recently found out about Amanda Todd the poor girl she just couldnt handle it anymore i wanted to say that it gets better i should know and today im gonna tell you my story
it was an ordanary day in the dew household yes dew as in mountain dew anyway i was deppresed tho that wasnt unusual for me knowing my past it was diffrent this time it was like my deppression was worse then ever i went into my brothers old room to look at pictures because hes at collage so i was missing him then i noticed his clouset was open now ya see he had a real sword in that clouset and i saw it i thought to myself i-its to much i cant handle it anymore i picked the sword up and almost drew it getting ready to drive it right through my 9 year old chest but then i thought to myself why am i doing this all its gonna do is make my family missrable and i dont
The True ArtistThe true artist is within,
He/She probably don't do it for a living.
They work 40+ hours at a job, but dream of art,
And save for the next project, for the next brush, for the next lens.
There is a million things in their way, distractions, obstacles,
Yet they still create, those are the true artists, that do it for the love.
They don't get recognition, or a million likes every time they burp.
They don't have staff to stock studios, or load film, or move lights or promote their vision,
They work their hours, save their energy, and use their spare time to create,
These are the artists that you want to know, and be around, and support with your body, your thoughts, and your money.
4 Dead ChordsI’m here, with the darkness embracing me, trying to sleep. My eyes, full of tears, want to sleep, listening to those things that makes me feel bad in the middle of the night, listening to my thoughts written by other mind, but are mine. I know the reason of the sad midnight, when the sky has closed the window and no one can see the spirits, walking lonely roads.
Maybe I took another wrong way, or the wrong way took me, with a beautiful smile and deep black eyes, asking me if I was truly happy all this time without Starlight; I wasn’t, those days were wasted moments in my life. There’s nothing to see inside a womb, where you are isolated and peaceful with yourself, thinking about the day you had.
I’m drowning in memories, and cry, the droplets that my lung has.
The ScientistCome up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry
You don't know how lovely you are
I had to find you, tell you I need you
Tell you I'll set you apart
Roni was excited for her new best friend to finally come over. I was never good at talking to others, so I wasn't excited. I unplugged the airbed from the pump, quickly closing the seal so air wouldn't get out. A knock at the door showed that Roni's friend was here. I peeked out from the hallway, looking at the stranger from my hiding spot.
She was beautiful.
Tell me your secrets and ask me your questions
Oh let's go back to the start
Running in circles, coming in tails
Heads on a science apart
Roni fell asleep around midnight, Chass was a night owl, so she was still up. Me and her had been talking for the past few minutes. Trying to get to know each other. I was falling in love. Days passed, weeks, we were both really close by now. I wanted to ask her out, but, I was just to nervous.
What if I was just a friend to her?
No Words Right For ThisYou once asked me why I was here.
"I'm here because your hair is like red wood in sunlight." I replied with a smile. "I'm here because you know all the words to Bohemian Rhapsody. Because you still get mad when someone reads your diary, even if it was from when you were seven. Because you're not afraid to disagree with me. Because you hate Dickens but adore Hemmingway. Because you're a morning person. Because you go to graveyards and lay flowers on the graves of people you never knew."
"Do you love me?"
But didn't I just say that?
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Endorell-Taelos is very well known within the community for her selfless giving and gracious community spirit. Since joining DeviantART over seven years ago, Alicia has continued to make a positive impact on many deviants. Her helpful and thoughtful approach was one of her finest attributes when serving as a Community Volunteer, and this has continued throughout the many contests which Alicia provides on a regular basis. As we approach our Birthday celebrations, we can't... Read More