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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 Young, The Wild, and The FreeDear Gabby,
This is a letter that I have wanted to write to you for over three years. I have used countless excuses: No time, no courage, no inherent reason. I have told myself countless times that writing letters to people like you is useless because people like you do not listen, no matter the person, the time, the medium, nor the words. You just do not, or maybe will not, listen. But, I guess in the realm of things this does not matter, because here I am, neither drunk nor sober, writing down my words on a piece of scrap paper you'll look at, but never read.
I was always quiet and you were always loud, and our friends told us it was okay because opposites attract. In public, it was funny. You would laugh and grasp my shoulder when you rambled on and I did not reply, but just listened. However, when we would arrive back at my apartment, it was always different. Instead of laughing, you would yell. Instead of grasping, you would pu
I'm Not a CutterJust because I'm not a Cutter,
Doesn't mean I can't feel pain.
It just means I’m strong enough,
to fight the battle, without giving up,
or succumbing to my own agony.
It just means, that I'm strong enough to go on.
We're Waiting.To be a good writer is to be you. To be a good artist is to be you. To be anything is to be you. Dream. Live. Wonder. Create. And be yourself.
Because you are the one who can make the change that everyone's been waiting for. You can do what others were too afraid to do. You just need a little push, and a lot of hope.
But most of all, you need you. Your individuality. Your uniqueness. Your creativity. Your imagination. And if you tie that all together, you can create something absolutely beautiful. Something new. Something amazing. Something we've all been waiting for.
The world is waiting for the next J.K Rowling. The world is waiting for the next Van Gogh. The world is waiting for the next Beethoven. The next Einstein. The next John F. Kennedy. The world is waiting for you. We're waiting for a change. And who's the say you can't make a change? Who's to say you can't make a difference?
You can. You most certainly can. All you need is a dream, hope, and a little bit of imagination. And
Depression.Depression feels like you've been sucked into a hole with no escape, very little air. Feels like someone's pushing you down, holding you and crushing your stomach. It feels like your drowning in air, yet everyone else is breathing.
You try to get better, some days you feel better than others but that doesn't mean your "cured." it just means your a bit happier than the previous day. In other words, you could say depression is where the days go by are covered in fog; sometimes the following days are brighter than others, but still have fog - around the edges. Sometimes it's really dark and gloomy, and its hard to make them bright.
We all have different ways of dealing with it, medication, talking to people; whether that be a therapist or your family or friends, alcohol, cutting, illegal drugs, unsubscribed medication, and so on and so forth. We all have different ways, yes perhaps not always a healthy option is chosen but at least it's something that dulls the pain.
bullyingbullying is never going to stop
so stop protesting
and live with it
I don't give a fluff if you've never been bullied
but I have
and so have more than half the people in the world
instead of protesting
help and stand up for someone who has been bullied
don't just sit there
My Angel Mother/ My Devil Father My angel mother was soft, nice, and was sweetest of all mothers whenever she made herself presentable to me. Somehow even on my darkest days she convinces me everything is going to be alright. It's rare that she gets me to stay happy now and sometimes she even convinces me to be nice to people even when they harm me. She says to me to try to respect everyone and realize my mistakes when I make them and be sure to learn from them to make me a better person. She offered the best advice throughout my whole entire life and I cry at the thought of losing her, knowing without her my sanity is gone along with the good morals she taught me. She's been with me since the day I was born along with my mortal mother, who also cared for me. My mortal mother cared for me when I needed physical help, but my angel mother helped me when it came to mental help. Angel mother had a good way of keeping my mind in a calm state when I was younger, but as I got older someone else showed up and st
Please see meSome of them walk by, dressed sharply, rushing off to their respective destinations.
“My body hurts…”
Some carrying briefcases, filled with important documents no doubt.
Others have less formal clothing, boilers suits or overalls, hardhats.
Construction workers I wager.
Some stop for a short moment, checking their watch, lighting a cigarette, then move on.
The scene blurs a bit.
“Please… no more”
A man stops; he looks right at me, his eyes a mystery, his brow furrowed.
“Can’t take it…”
He grimace slightly, moving along, pretending he never saw anything.
“Don’t force me to go back…”
I stumble and fall onto my back, grunting painfully.
A man with a hardhat and a coffee mug jogs over and leans over me.
“Oi lad, you okay?”
For the first time ever, someone sees me, really sees me, the man’s eyes go wi
Just Venting"Are you alright?"
"Wow, you're good. Why aren't you in honors?"
Because I know I'll fail.
"Hello? ...You okay?"
"Wow, I didn't mean it. It was a fucking joke...Hello? Hey, I said I'm sorry."
"You don't appreciate anything."
"You're so lazy."
"Wow, what's got you in such a pissy mood?"
"Nothing. I'm fine."
"When was the last time you saw him?"
"...Over a month."
"When was the last time you talked to him?"
"And that boy you talked about, you're still with him?"
"He cheated on me."
"You don't trust many people, do you?"
"I trust far more than I should."
"For someone with all these problems, you sure do smile a lot."
Have you ever had the feeling...Have you ever had the feeling like you just don't know what to do? Where you just can't even think of what to say or who to talk to? Like you're being torn between two sides and you just don't know who to pick? Like if you make one wrong move, you'll be sent down a slippery slope with no return?
I feel like this every day. I don't know what to say, and I don't know what not to say. I don't know who I should and shouldn't be talking to. I don't know what questions are safe to ask, and what ones are better left unsaid.
I can't simply hide away from it all. And I can't simply do something too drastic. I feel like I'm being forced to feel some way when I feel another. Like I'm the bad guy for staying true to myself.
I'll get in big trouble if I make a mistake, and I don't know how to keep going without making one. I'm terrified of the inevitable fates that I see...I can't find a path to a good outcome no matter how much I think it over...
No one tells me straight up what's wrong, I have to
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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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