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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.
Suicide is no joke.Suicide is no joke. There is no coming back from it. Once you have done it, you are gone. Your pain may be over, but the pain to your family and loved ones will never be over. They will be left with countless questions that will forever be unanswered. If you're in pain, you need to let somebody know. There is no use suffering in silence. If you are suffering through depression, the worst thing you can try to do is beat it on your own. Just remember that there are people out there who love you and care for you. Even if you only have one person in your life who cares, that is still one person that would be devastated if you were no longer here.
Suicide is a very final way to deal with life's issues. It is a dark and permanent solution to potentially short term problems. All I ask is for you to stop and think. There is always a solution to your problems. There is always someone out there who can help you. Never think that you're alone because you are not. Some people may understand a lot
It's Too Late When We DieIf you want to die then fine, go die
But before you go, think
Think about every dream you've dreamed
Think about every star you've wished upon
Think about every desire that has ever coursed through your veins
Everyone of those things could become true
Everyone of those things could become a reality
If you go pack you bags now
You will be packing nothing but pain
You will leave this place with nothing but your suffering
So fight, fight everyday
Pour fire into your heart
Harness the hurt
Control the memories
And leave this world old and grey
And leave this world carrying happiness
Don't ever give up because,
It's too late when we die..
TendernessHer name was Tenderness. Blue used to call her this way because she was very cute, very lovely, and when Blue saw her the first time, the first emotion he felt was Tenderness. Tenderness was a young paintress, very very talented. Her art was different: she didn't paint with a brush, she painted with her heart! Her colours were her emotions, and her canvas was her soul. Every painting made by her was a masterpiece, a piece of herself consacreted in an eternal work of art. Her paintings were the mirror of herself: soft, delicate...and beautiful!
Tenderness is a very talented paintress! Tenderness paints with heart and soul! Tenderness probably is looking for perfection in this imperfect world! Tenderness is Artist and Muse at the same time!
Someone SpecialHe sat alone at the train station. Every day, he remained... At the same time, in the same seat, with the same book. His hands never tried to turn to the next page, not even once...
I asked what he was reading. There was no answer. Only the same cold, stoic gaze... Creeping through my retinas. Locked together. No hellos, no goodbyes. Just dark eyes, regarding me with mirthful disdain.
I wanted dearly to break him from his painful reverie... But I eventually realized, no one could do that for him. He had to do it himself... And the timing wasn't right. I could wait for him forever, it wouldn't make the slightest difference...
All of the trains were late... That day, and every day.
I whispered... "I tried."
He whispered back... "It doesn't matter..."
Those three words; each of them a dagger, forever slicing. And I walked away, immortal wounds dripping crimson from my chest...
Discovery of Titanic On this day in Nineteen-Hundred and Eighty-Five, the great black seas of the North Atlantic were parted by crafts never before seen in this realm. They plunged beneath the surface of the waves, beneath the rolling tide, and as they descended, the sea became dimmer, and dimmer....and dimmer still until all grew black and infinite. The lights from the craft shone upon the strangest of fishes, and many waves of small plankton-creatures glazed past the windows, and on to their way in this strange and ethereal world.
Down, down, down....farther still. Then, with a soft 'plunk', the craft lands upon the sea floor. The white Atlantic sand drifts up in waves, floating in the water like smoke. Drifting around and away. The lights shine on this world, but they do not show much. The ocean is too vast, to immense for them to illumine much. The fishes dart back and forth, curious as to who this intruder really is. They have never seen anything like it in all th
DreamHer name was Dream! Well, to be honest that wasn't her real name: Blue used to call her this way because she was like a Dream. Blue never met such an amzing, intelligent, talented and deep person! Too good to be true...a Dream. But Dream was real!! Dream was one of the greatest poetess of our times. She was a sort of source of inspiration! She was sweet, she was polite...she was a beautiful human being. I'm sure her smile was a sort of shining sun, warm and beautiful! Her face was the representation of sweetness, and her soul was, how to say, the reflection of humanity! Dream was suffering, but despite the suffering, she always comforted the others! Dream was an extraordinary girl! Dream is a living dream!
Dream is a great artist! Dream is an extraordinary girl! Dream is a living beautiful dream! Dream is all the good in this world!!!
In This SpaceMy favorite space in the entire world is the space between my window and my bed, only separated by the brown Chester Drawer that was painted canvas white and now chips away to show tidbits of the chestnut brown. This is my favorite space. A cage between the pages of my sketchbook; torn out. Here, it’s just far enough from you. I can see the smile on your face. And the emptiness in your eyes. I can see how they’ll never match one another again. And it makes me wonder if you can hear me breathing too heavy in order to make myself faint.
This space in between my bed and my window is as big as the space in between your eyes. And I wonder if you can see right through me. Or do you just not pay attention to the sundry voices in my head. In this space, I sat down and watched the rain break the glass. This space is where I watched the ants trail in through the hole in the window’s net. I fed them bread crumbs from my sandwich. Until they infested the spot and expected a yard
FelicityHer name was Felicity! They used to call her this way because she seemed to be always happy. Felicity was a nice girl, very funny and always ready to make you laugh. But Felicity hasn't been always happy. In the past she suffered, we don't know why, we don't know how, but she suffered. Fortunately Felicity doesn't suffer anymore. She's better than she thinks! Felicity loves to watch tv series, probably because she likes to get lost in a world of fantasy, where all the sorrows of the life don't exist. Felicity is a good friend. I think that Felicity is a dreamer too!
Felicity is a young girl who suffered. Felicity is happy now! Felicity loves tv series! Felicity is the need to escape from this world, but also the life that goes on!
Stranger Season 02 - part 1(9)SEASON 2
Anyways before you read in this story,there can be with sexual or/and violence parts.And include Gay parts.
He were gone…
for 3 months
i didn’t seen Fabian anywhere,he was skipping the school.
I was getting worried…maybe something happened to my weird new….friend..?
Where is he..? Is he okay..?
so many questions in my mind.
My test..? haha i failed…of course....And teacher was forced to call my parents..now i can’t go hang on anywhere…
No friends.school problems...everything usual…
i was missing Fabi,these black eyes,silly sounds,and each new thing i was learning about him.
When my parents didn’t seen,i was walking out again…the sea,the forest ..everything was almos
The Seperation FadesI know that a few decades from now, I won't be able to picture the freckles on your shoulder so clearly they might be before my eyes, and I wouldn't remember the curve of your smile, and your face won't be the first thing I see every morning.
And that scares me to death, but it keeps me going.
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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