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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.
What is on the other side?When you're staring at your reflection, what do you see? It is obvious to most people that you see an
exact image of yourself, but how do you depict that lingering 'image' that surrounds you?
What exactly do you 'see' when you look into a mirror? Light is everywhere and no person can escape
it. The same can be said about a person's feelings no matter how hard they try to cast a shallow mask
behind their true emotions.
Just how fragile are we? There are some who have more willpower than others, but lack in other
departments that help to build us up. What is it that makes you a strong or weak person?
What are you gazing at? Do you perhaps see a strong individual on that other side of the light? Is
there something dark and mysterious about that 'impostor' that you just can't figure out yet? Where
are you? Who are you?
What is on the other side?
Why am I cursed with being a female?I've felt trapped in this undying corset for centuries. I've cried in ivory towers while they climbed on my hair and kissed me when I was unconscious.
I've longed for swords and horses and the battle for freedom only to be ridiculed and thrown away.
I was given as a main task to worry about how I look and how much I eat.
I was told I was but an instrument for child making and that my presence should be pleasant and mute.
I was painted on all the stones, all the walls, all the surfaces. I was put in all the books, all the poems, all the curses.
I made the children that made the world, and the world thinks I am weak.
I carry the weight of that world on my shoulders, be they white and round, or strong and square, or thick or thin, in cap sleeves or tank tops.
And yet the world makes me wonder every day -
Why am I cursed with being a female?
Eyes wide open, seen but not heard, a sound in the sight before it once could be seen by others. There is lack of sense with logic, and the truth of opinions mean more than they should.
The pain within, is but a thousand knifes jabbing at my soul, my tattered, broken soul. Who is there to trust? Who is there to love? What is the point when nothing truly exists? You are not real, I am not real, we are not real, nothing is real.
At night, alone and cold, tears roll quickly, the jabbing becomes a gruesome mutilation of hopes, dreams, and sanity. Stop laughing, it's not so bad. There are many cheering for you, can you hear them outside?
"Go for it! Yeah! We're rooting for you!"
Please make them stop.
Who knows, maybe they aren't saying anything at all. But nonetheless, they have a point, everyone must die sometime.
I hate you
I love you
I hate to love you
I love to hate you
I worry for whoever makes the mistake of befriending me. The person within me, I have my doubts about, but who is to
Blue met NovocaineBlue was looking for his Novocaine. He didn’t think it would be possible to find her…but they met! She found him in a dark corner, and she made him come back to life!!! What’s funny is that Blue always liked her Novocaine!!! The REAL Novocaine exists, Novocaine is real! Blue and Novocaine ARE real! Novocaine is such a sweetheart, such a beautiful girl, with a huge heart and an amazing soul! Her sweetness and her love are a drug for Blue!!! She’s an addiction for him!!! If Blue’s an angel, as Novocaine says, then Novocaine’s a Goddess, as Blue says! Novocaine and Blue are two beautiful soul who now are one!!! U2 said “two hearts beat as one”, and they were right!!! Blue can feel the beating of Novocaine’s heart, because her heart is his heart!!! Novocaine is everything Blue has always been looking for: sweetness, romanticism and a beautiful soul! I think Blue and Novocaine are two dreamers. Their dream will come true!
In light of today, World Suicide Prevention DayFirst a disclaimer: I am not suicidal, nor have I ever been.
However, I know about depression, and how it can lead you to seeing but one way out of your suffering: death.
It's not that you reallywant to die: you just want the pain to stop at last.
My long-lasting brush with depression started when I was about 14. I got bullied for passing my exams after missing three months of school. In hindsight, it seems like such a ridiculous reason to bully someone to the point they're dead inside – but kids can and will be cruel if they feel insecure, jealous, or otherwise beaten by life.
I'm 33 now. I spent about 10 years getting back up that slope after 'but' one year of bullying – but boy did that class of 31 people not make me feel at home. Only a few of them were actual bullies; the rest just either didn't care, played along a little bit, or turned their backs to me. I was the easy target: introvert, creative, always quiet and in the back of the class, never learned to fig
Murmurs The smallest squeak by a mouse can be heard by the largest whale. Hearing sometimes overpowers speaking, even if there are walls and doors separating the two.
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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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More