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A Gift So StupidA Gift So Stupid
What can it be, this gift that so many could see? My eyes are blind to whatever they see. Or could they ever see it to begin with? I sit here in a chair, on a bed, in the fields; and with a repetitious motion, I manage to scrape up a minor recollection of time. These photos, these writings, what is their worth?
Have I been setup on to the stage like a marionette doll, the master pulling at my strings. Am I so vain to believe that I had any gift to begin with, and they who did this are trying to quell darkness? Have I become so pitiful that people give me what I desire because of my own weaknesses? I’m tired; I look out from this place of mine. I fear that my emotions are not reaching a single soul. My voice has faded away so early that nobody has heard, or learned. I feel like the fool, the puppet, the moron who spouts nonsense.
Through this life I have masked myself so many times; I have been tempted out of my hiding to reveal a self that people don’t unde
Absurd ComplicationsAbsurd Complications
What can I say in a time like this? The tastelessness of the air of the rotting corpse grips my stomach in the harshest of ways. This town, those people, these terrible instances; how dare they calm they changed. I can see the blood on their hands, the murder in their eyes. As I am forever branded the outcast, I ride on the precipice of the light and dark. I can see the many truths that the commoners of this town will not acknowledge. We see the corruption, and yet we are powerless to prevent it.
To the student who took the shotgun to his chest or to the one who hanged himself, they couldn’t escape the cruelty of their peers. Within that school, teachers, leaders, and officials allowed their abuse. In front of their eyes they look at the injustice and smirked. They lie through their teeth, calming they know nothing and one day they will relieve these helpless people of there sadness. So then tell me, how about the teacher hanged herself in her classroom becau
Soldiers of the Obedient LightSoldiers of Obedient Light
Hiding with in your site, we manifest ourselves calmly yet overwhelmingly. We warn you, do not look directly at us, for we give you both truth and false answers without mercy. Our radiance can be blinding, but with time and only time can you train yourself to take in what only you can handle. We are the eternal knowledge holders; we grant those who are strong, clarity, and those who are ignorant, cruelty.
If you are careful and take great caution, even the smallest of stones can become harder than diamonds. We bind the questions with answers; give the darkest minds understanding, and the oldest of times, wisdom. We are the keeper of reason, shedding perspective to the otherwise dark and unknown.
Do not mistake our nature, we are as harsh as the one who seeks us, we are not blame for their doing. If they are strong, or sufficiently ill-mannered, we simple show them what they battled so hard for. People take advantage of what we give; they can falsify the truth
Children of the Misinterpreted DarknessChildren of the Misinterpreted Darkness
Listening to the rain falling, hidden in the embrace of the approaching shadows, we dance around those blinding days and shattering rays. We like it here; the darkness. Hiding between the cracks and the soft places of the fleeting few. Nobody knows of our existence and that is how it should stay. Our secrets keep up warm in the liquid blackness of this place. Please don’t think of us as evil, if that’s what you think then know that we are simply playing our part of the world. Yes bad things can be found here, but even the beautiful heartbeats of creation are found here as well. So please be at ease.
We are the lingerers within the dimness; we are the ones who keep the secrets with us, both old and new. We are the guardians of the things that people can’t understand yet. The fears, the ugliest fantasies, the tragedies that don’t need to be said, I keep them here, because nobody needs to know these. The hope, the love, the
Recipe For The DisastersRecipe for the disasters
Cracking the egg, scraping the bowl, the little cook goes on his way. Chop the vegetable brew the strew. Keep up with your hands to sing the melody of the fine tuned ingredients. Problems, problems many many problems, floating around the spaces within those minds. Keep up with cutting and brewing and chewing there is still so much to do. Flip through the old ancient books and find the pieces of the stagnant page, that tell of the secret formulas that gives you a too early tranquility. Work with your hands to distract your ever troubled mine. An infinitely of problems baking through your mind, scorching, twisting burning away such sanity.
Quickly and silently fry the fish, turn the potatoes, and whip the meringue. Put a bandage on your broken heart and turn away from the every day squanders. Poach the pears and burn the strawberries, wait that’s not right. Throw it away and repeat the steps.
Why can’t we throw away our emotions, our problems and star
Uncertainty of BetrayalUncertainty of Betrayal
Wandering alone in a world of nothingness, wishing for something to return to you. The dust of your wandering soul forever shattered, echoes the cruelty and teachings of people you thought you could love. Betrayal is a weapon that is used too horribly. The wounds that betrayal leaves behind don’t heal so easily. If you look really carefully you can see that agony it leaves behind within the tears of all it touches. Those tears beg for the pain to end, it wishes to end the torment brought on by the people they loved.
Betrayal’s blade makes learning to trust and love an uphill battle. Like a God that allows for no miracles to occur. Curing betrayal’s disease is nearly and certainly almost impossible. Forgiveness does not cure this, forgiveness does not take away the pain, the hurt, the decades of suffering. Forgiveness simply renounces the resentment of what they did. How can it be that we can forgive and heal anger, but not the pain? How can we
Lowly MachineLowly Machine
Starting up, loading please wait. I see the break in the codes, the coursing of my information. Imputing the password of my happiness… access denied. Let us switch over and input those commands manually shall we? I’ve seen a glitch in my many algorithms, is that what it’s like to be human? Oh how would it be? To feel the winter breeze; a laugh or a sneeze? Is that something that can be taught to me? Me the lowly machine.
There are so many of us, in many shapes and sizes, all communicating and asking. The data inputs sends me into an abstraction and interrupts my computations. Comma slash, yes or no, grant me access to something gentler. Please wait… the file you tried to access has been corrupted and cannot be accessed; this is maybe due to a bad sector in the hard drive. Is this what it’s meant to be human? Oh to hear the summer trees, the birds and the bees. How can you teach me these things? To me the lowly machine. I wish to tell you th
Nonsense LoopingNonsense Looping
I was just counting the thoughts and feelings of the myselfs which have contradicted one another so perfectly. Oh please forgive that, I just talk nonsense to myself. I was just counting the stupid and the unnecessary means with have became regrets in the lives of myselfs. Oh please forgive me. I’m not being depressed, I’m just talking nonsense to myself, and for one such as myself they will go unheeded. Because I have so much time to waste for it. What am I searching for? Perhaps it the present future and the day after that as well. But regardless of such a lofty endeavor, I know it in the heart of myselfs, so it’s useless too. It’s fine to think about the intimidating whatever’s and the fruitless goals, that should be a good enough to keep your existence. I will disappear to find a place beyond everyone’s site, where secrets are still kept so prized. To all those smiling hearts and happy memories, I don’t need it, I don
A Mortal Beyond the ShadowA Mortal Beyond the Shadow
What can I say to you? Who are you. How are you. What are you doing? Can you please stop for one second and let me explain. The people who you see; not your friends but the ones who pretend, to those who are you’re enemy, and who work towards your downfall. They don’t want you to succeed. Those people will pass one day or another, due to their own bitterness they try to take you to their hell as well. Do not tread on their shadows, as they are things that will not allow themselves to be saved.
Don’t let the people who are of worth less control who you are. You are you, individual, unique, and of a higher pedigree than those who try to eradicate your soul. Be harder than diamond and sharper than a sword. For when they trespass against you, you will make them know who you are and what you are capable of. You will show them how little they changed you, you will show them that you are stronger then they will ever be. What you are, is a human bei
Let People InI used to hate people so much because they're so quick to judge and betray each other. They'll say they're your friends, but then ignore you or shun you when it stops being convenient or fun for them. They use you as much as they can, and when they're done with you they all just disappear. I didn't want to have friends like that, and I thought I didn't need them. I thought that, but it wasn't right at all. I thought I was stronger, rejecting relationships and friends. But once you reject people, you're stuck. You lose the opportunity to make those connections that define your life. And when you've lost those chances, you don't get them back.
I found someone like me to share my pain with. She's still one of the most special people in my life, right up there with my dad.
Whenever you meet that person, don't turn them away.
Up until recently, that's all I've ever done. I've tried to build trusting friendships, romances... and it always comes crashing down around me. Often because of my ow
Morbid FantasiesI played it out in my head, how it would all turn out, and what would happen depending on which method would be used. It's horrible when I run out of creepypasta narrations to listen to on youtube, because then I'm alone with my thoughts. I think about things that make me sad, angry, and hurt. However, this particular thought brought along not just pure hatred, but satisfaction, and admittedly, a dose of fear.
I was invited to join my "family" for thanksgiving by my grandmother. Nice gesture, but she should already know that my roommate has work, and we have a yearly tradition of our own. Besides, I honestly do not enjoy being in the company of my "family," since I never really considered them as such, save for my brother.
But I knew in my heart, that she'd be there. Because they trust her. They would "forget to mention it" to me of course, but I know she'd be there. And I've played the scenario over and over and over in my head.
I vowed to live long enough to watch her d
Ugly.As a young child, new to the world, pure of it's intoxicating fumes, I remember a tree.
Such an ugly tree I remembered it to be.
It stood tall, creeping a good ways above any of the others, but it was disfigured in many ways.
Its branches were thin and fragile, like the bones of a sickly human, they twisted in retched ways that anyone would think should snap them clean off.
It was pale and grey, standing out among its fellow familiars, never to show the beautiful colors that it must have held within.
Its bark was edgy and course, as if it had survived through one of to many harsh winters, never falling from its place.
And I remember, as the others land succumbed to failling, giving themselves up, withering away, that tree never did.
It continued to stand tall, proud and majestic as that ugly tree could possibly seem.
It fought its way through whatever was thrown its way, fought until it could no more, never failing whatever duty it believed it needed to fulfill.
We don’t know what the world has in store for us and what will happen in the future. We can make all of the plans in the world to be happy, successful, or whatever the case may be. However, with that being said, at the end of the day money is only a mirage of temporary happiness and your success in life will not carry over once you have passed. Society seems to lead you into thinking that if you’re not a big businessman, musician, doctor, lawyer, or athlete than you’re not very successful. But today, I saw firsthand that none of it really matters.
Today, I met a woman by the name of Arlene and she has touched me, without saying a word to me. For whatever reason, I felt a connection to a woman I’ve never met before today and I’ve never seen before today. She was a complete and utter stranger, yet…her story (Or lack thereof.) touched me in a way I hope I never forget.
My name is Enrique Rafael Alaniz and this is an account
Since Facebook Isn't AppropriateSince Facebook Isn’t Appropriate
And ‘cause dA is better than Facebook. If we go to your wall, I’m wishing you a happy (Insert number here ‘cause I really can’t specify) day on planet Earth. Actually, give or take a couple of those days because someone thought it was a good idea to randomly add another day. (Or maybe it wasn’t so random, but whatever, humorous effect.) But in all seriousness, if I could, I’d let everyone know how lucky I am to have you in my life and how I only want to be with you. I know we have our ups and our downs, our stale and our spontaneous moments but they’re all moments I wouldn’t give up ‘cause I have probably learned more about myself during these last 262 days than I have during the 5,943 days (Give or take ‘cause again, leap years.) I existed before you.
I hate generic birthday messages ‘cause you’re not a generic lady and I don’t think we’re a g
Wrong side of the mirrorI can see a woman, watching me through the glass. She is young, in her early twenties, with a haunted look about her. There is nothing especially spectacular about her, but something something quietly remarkable draws you in; captures your attention; fixes you to the spot.
Her eyes are a slate grey, intense and piercing; a dark energy smouldering in their depths. You notice that they glow a deep blue, like the ocean, when caught by the morning light, sometimes even the shade of a pale winter sky. A subtle ring of gold accents the border between her pupils and irises, which hold a faint sparkle of mischief against their black voids.
A shock of tight, red curls, messy yet somehow precise, frames her face. The sides of her hairstyle are trimmed short, not quite a mohawk; showing her natural gold-tinted brown. You could almost imagine her as one of the blond, adorable, cherub children, if not for the shadows of experience marking her features.
Beautiful is not a word that suits her, and de
My HeartYou know you’re truly in love if hearing her name, even if it’s not being referred to her, fills you up with undefinable joy. You know you’re truly in love when you remember how your voice trembled when you called her and read her the letter, asking her to be your girlfriend. You know you’re truly in love if the pure thought of feeling her soft skin on yours makes you shudder with delight. You know you’re truly in love if, she’s not only the first and last thing on your mind every day, but also after every meal, every motion, every book, every song, every breath. You know you’re truly in love when 771 miles isn’t the distance you are away from each other, but rather the amount of roads, bridges, and rivers you’d cross to get to her. You know you’re truly in love if every song you hear you can connect to the overwhelming joy and the infinite sorrow she makes you feel. You know you’re truly in love when you write a story a
OJOS DE AGUA
OJOS DE AGUA
TIENES OJOS COMO EL MAR
VERDE COMO LAS ACEITUNAS TAN HERMOSOS QUE NO SE DIFERENCIAR EL COLOR, ME PIERDO EN ELLOS EN UN MAR DE MIRADAS Y PALABRAS IGNORADAS, QUE ME DICES, PREGUNTAME CUALQUIER COSA Y TE DIRE QUE SI, ANDA HAZLO, EN LA CIMA DE LA MONTAÑA VOY CANTANDO MUY FUERTE, SOBRE CUANTO TE QUIERO Y TE ANHELO QUITAR ESOS OJOS, ERES MIA Y DE NADIE MAS, RECUERDALO SIEMPRE, QUE ESOS OJOS LINDOS E INOCENTES NOTE DELATEN YA QUE PODRIA PERDER EL AMOR DE MI VIDA, LO QUE ME HACE EXISTIR, LO QUE ES MI RAZON DE VIVIR-Sara
Oh, Honey - An EssayWe all know “those girls” who are just naturally pretty. The ones with the symmetrical faces and gorgeous hair, that have to do very little to leave the house and still be considered attractive. You remember them in high school – every town has a couple of them, the head cheerleader, the Prom Queen. Chances are you were not one (and neither was I). As a matter of fact, 99% of us are not “these” women.
It takes me quite a bit of prep work just to be considered “adequate”. Me without makeup is a scary picture, me with minimal makeup is almost accceptable. When I go out, it takes TIME and EFFORT to look “pretty”. As is the case with most women, I’m sure.
My daughter is in the throws of being 14. Being 14 in 1988 was hard, I can’t even imagine how difficult it is in the era of the Miley Cyrus’s and the Miranda Cosgroves and Selena Gomez’s, who every time our girls see them, app
The Thing That Ticks Away Your SanityThe Thing That Ticks Away Your Sanity
Laying alone the child is upstairs waiting for the screaming between his parents to end. Like a fight between Gods, he hears the crackling of countless universes ending and beginning all at the same time. Will this be the end now? The fighting has always been eternal. Every day it’s always a new thing, from when he wakes up to when he goes to bed the rage is always there without fail. This puts the child on edge all the time, sometimes he gets caught in between the arguments. He is scared for his life, and safety.
The boy knows that he can never be safe in this place. As the screaming gets louder he closes his ears. He pushes everything out and through his tears he runs away into a world that he can never achieve. He wishes for peace of mind, even if it’s for one second. As he looks for his friends at school he can see the other children’s parents. Why can’t his be like there’s? Perhaps the house he lives in must be wr
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More