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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.
My ConfessionI never really thought about my lack of sexual interest before society confronted me with it.
It took me quite a while to notice guys as anything more than "other people", and when I did, it was more a group pressure thing than real interest.
I even had a boyfriend then, but not because I particularly liked the guy. Having a boyfriend in your teens is a status symbol. Have one, you're cool, have none, you're not.
Of course, back then things weren't that clear to me. I went with the flow.
For a very long time, I wondered what is wrong with me that I don't enjoy sex, that It makes me feel awkward and that I have no desire to go out and date. Society made me believe it is wrong to be like that. I was ashamed of myself, of my flaws and my obvious failure of being a full-fledged human being.
You define yourself through others. You try to figure out who you are, and you look at others for guidance, for something you can identify with. But you only limit yourself with that, and not finding si
Dear deviantART: Free The Author
In a world as colorful, diverse, unique and beautiful as it is today, I’ve learned through my 10 months on this website that many people enjoy expressing themselves in many different ways when it comes to art.
Whether it be through romance, nature, darkness, light or everything else there is to express with, it becomes even more interesting when I see the people express themselves with so many different mediums.
Myself? I enjoy expressing my artistic abilities through many mediums: Digital art, poetry, but most avidly, the xReader fandoms. Avengers, Sherlock, Free!, Shingeki no Kyojin and many, many others.
99% of my stories are romantic. I love to write romance, though I usually don’t take it much further than a little something like a sweet little kiss, the beginning of a new relationship, a baby being born, or occasionally, the odd sexual innuendo. Once, I tried writing a lemon. However it didn’t work out very well, and I decided to remove it for personal reasons.
Bullying, a brief storyI always knew I was off, that there was something wrong with me. Elementary school was a wild ride, with no friends, funny nicknames, and even beatings. My nickname, was "It". At that time I didn't know there was any other sexuality other than straight. I didn't know that happened. However, I still admired my same-sex friends, I thought they were pretty, and I wanted to kiss them as much as the opposite gender.
I was pushed off of rock walls, slides, I had basketballs, dodgeballs, footballs, thrown at my head, I was tripped kicked and punched, the nurse knew me by name.
I didn't understand why it was happening, I didn't understand anything. I legit had to make a hula hoop be my best friend, and I'm not even joking.
It wasn't until I started reading the bathroom walls, the backs of whiteboards in class, graffiti on the playground, that I understood. Everyone assumed I was gay, and they wrote stories about me everywhere. Doing things I wasn't old enough to know about yet. The opposite ge
droplets to dropI think I imagined my life.
One prayer spent, an angel held my mind and supported its weight... offered to steal me away in the 8th grade despite the fact I'd let him down in ridicule and silence. In that moment, I believed in God.
but God existed in everything and nothing, and it became hard deciphering the holy from the chosen. So I dined with sin one night when her lips were too sweet and I was too caged; she'd put her nails inside my poet lines, with a sadness too familiar I could only choke on disappointment.
A white-out later--lips left only a little less swollen than the eyes--I was hoping I was simply malnourished in weak-spirit... but you showed me it was a plague in man, a Passover of none, and the scream I let go strangled the last of hope in me.
the things that we take, to make us feel.i tried to keep you a part of myself for as long as i could. but like everything in my life, it crumbled and dissovled and all i ended up left with was all your bad habits and self destruction. dont get me wrong, if i had a choice between nothing, and putting cigarettes out on the palms on my hands the way you taught me, or drinking my coffee black and gritty, i'll take the later every time. (nothing hurts about the same)
cause the only thing i've learned in my 21 years on this planet is that you're always told its going to be be 'okay.
that time heals all the crap that you're feeling right now, and that you have to not dwell on things so much, but i'm not dwelling, i'm holding onto the things that kept me breathing, cause i dont know if i can live without them anymore.
i am so fucking reliant on my crutches, and i can feel them being ripped from underneath me and i dont know how to get back up. my bones arent strong enough to be on their own to hold all this pressure. and i just want
What Happened To Deviant art?Back when i joined i loved this place. Yeah i was a kid back then, and i do see things under a different light now that I'm older. But lately DA seemed to be...Ebbing. And i don't think its the fault of the people that runs this site either. In my opinion its the fault of the degenerates that decide to either troll, steal art, or step on others for no real reason. But now I'm hearing talk of actual pedophiles on this site...i know many people probably already knew about this but this was news to me. And i know that every site i go on may have pedophiles on it and that this is "the internet"...some place where people continue to browse their favorite sites thinking that their completely "anonymous". Your not by the way. But even before this talk it seemed like this site was slowly gaining a population of people that only wants fame. I will admit that fame would be nice for all of us. But people nowadays don't understand what i few nice comments on a picture can do to someones confidence
Never Become Like MeWHAT INSPIRED ME TO CREATE THIS PIECE!
"Creating things is an amazing thing. it’s amazing to see what other people are doing, to see the inner workings of someone else’s brain, but in their own style. and if you want to do it, you just go for it. you try. you have to try. ” ~PJ Liguori (KickThePJ) (I'm not scared video)
I am only a young girl, destined to work until my body begins to fade from the earth.
I am only a fragment of the country that floats on the body of water that blankets the world.
I am a person with feelings towards many things. Some things I love so much that I would protect them, even if protecting them cost my own tiny life. Some things I despise so much that I would toss them into the flames that younger children admire so much that they utter words in a melodic fashion around it... And I would watch it burn...
Most days I wake up, I put on my clothes and I venture towards a place which I am forced to endure for six painful hours. I sit on one of t
DecayI feel dead,
Inside and out.
My skin becomes ashen,
Bones become brittle as they crumble.
My skin starts to tighten.
I start to breathe in small shallow gasps,
As the walls start to close around me.
I start to tremble,
My eyes begin to drain of color,
Until they become dull and monotone.
My skin starts to evaporate,
I choke on air as I lose my skin.
My eyes roll back until my eyes become that of a zombie...
Emotionless and soulless...
And in this seat I have become brittle,
A decaying skeleton,
Just a simple white and broken endoskeleton...
Inside and out...
Inside the VaseThe vase stands there
Cold and firm.
It doesn't make a move.
No one knows.
The vase is pushed
Maybe there was nothing inside.
I am the vase.
I try to put back my pieces with glue.
I guess I finally cracked.
Through all the little cracks
There was water inside.
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?
longdead leafa longdead leaf
burnt brown in the depth of green
cups a handful of fresh water
a leaf left behind
holds something of worth
forgoing death with its dead body
Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
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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