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Sticks and stonesIt's a fact of life that hurt is painful. Of course, when you read that, you're probably thinking "Naw, really? Of course it does!"
However, if we stopped to think about it, we would realize how much hurt hurts and on how many different levels hurt hurts. But the thing is, no matter how much or how little we feel some sort of hurt, the pain is still there, and it didn't necessarily have to happen. If it was preventative, it is better to take the ill-tasting medicine than to get- or stay- sick. But when you purposefully injure someone, it is just wrong. The old saying about sticks and stones is a flat out lie. Sticks and stones can break your bones, but words are devastating.
Common GroundWhat does everybody have in common?
Everybody feels. We all have emotions, no matter how hard we try to bury them, whether they are happy or angry or whatever. Everybody feels, just like you do. If something would hurt you, chances are it would hurt somebody else too. Now, that doesn't necessarily mean "do unto others as you would have them do to you" because then some people would go around giving everybody hand jobs, while others would end up giving everybody cookies and there would be an increase in diabetes throughout the world. So, as you can see, this isn't necessarily the way to go.
What is the way to go is to use your own feelings to be sensitive to other people's feelings. I know that everyone is capable of doing this because of how many people abuse that power to hurt people. What we need to do is use the power so that the only time we DO hurt people, it's to redirect them into a path that would be,
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
When Home Becomes a Prison (Strength)When your pillow is no longer the fresh place to lay your emaciated spirit
But is now the chain on the ball that is your bed.
When a door is no longer the entrance to a retreat from the world
But a metaphorical lock keeping you ensconced, never stepping foot out into it.
When windows suddenly become looking glasses that never break,
Just heckle you with what you're missing in their transparent prisons.
A token of what you used to be in the faces of the people walking passed.
The people who pay no note to you;
Who have no inclination of what they are; the symbols of your long-ago life.
The sharp splinters of nostalgia that just glimpsing upon their face sends into your heart.
Every time they walk their dog,
You grimace because you cannot walk long enough to do the same for yours.
Constant reminders in everything everyone does in everywhere you go
of the things you are losing without control.
You clutch and grasp while slipping into sliding as you clasp onto what is left o
Dear JamesI placed a candle on the water for you today. It flickered and floated and gathered with candles of other losses; fathers, friends – whoever. It was as hard as letting you go; if that candle drifted away from me then would I lose you again? When they scooped the candle from the water and your flame went out who would remember that I honoured you? So I took your candle from the water and placed it into my bag. Not because I can’t let you go but because I want to remember. I will light that candle to remember you on special days.
James darling, I missed you more today than any other. I know I will miss you more again at Christmas, on your birthday and on the day you died. You are an angel but you are still with me – in the heart covered by the tattoo of your name. The ink came from within, seeping up through my skin and not down.
I am grateful for the two sonograms I have of you, yet part of me yearns to know what your face would have looked like. Would you have his thi
SaturdaysBrought into this world on a rainy Saturday morning
No memories of the years that follow
Until the pain
Eyes of a beast
Tears of a child
Walls subconsciously building to keep the child safe
But are the walls for safety or containment
Blood and bone breaking
Screaming into the night
True Love: Part one
Finding true love yourself, it is quite rare these days. But once you’ve met your special one, once you’ve looked into their eyes, you will know that something big is about to happen, if you realise it or not .. it will.
You will know deep inside, when your heart starts to skip a beat, when you want to simply grab her and kiss her until you both run out of breath.
True love is not about what you have to offer, is about how much are you willing to give, to share and sacrifice for her. It is about trying to make her happy at any given point, out of nowhere, cause you wanted so. It is about sharing your thoughts with her, telling her that you’re scared of losing her someday .. she will simply kiss your nose and tell you “silly, you’re never going to lose me”.True love is beyond physical attraction, if two souls get united, the reaction will be so powerful that absolutely no one can separate you, ever.
Hidden Language"Is he ok?"
Is he alive?
"Is he alright?"
Is he breathing?
"Is he sleeping?"
Is he dead...?
DreamsDreams are merely dreams...but sometimes they reflect your deepest desires, don't they?
He stole my breath away.
He was a stunning being, a mix of a man that I could not easily describe to you. With ebony-black hair and stormy gray eyes, he captured my heart in an instant. At times he would tower over me, lovingly, his presence nearing mine, and I could feel the warmth from his body.
"Sometimes I wish I could just steal a smile from you," he murmured easily. "Write you a love poem. Give you roses. I want to love you like love from the past."
I blinked, and smiled slightly back at his beautiful face. "Why the past?"
He shrugged, then he stared at me defiantly, with the Mexican pride I knew so well. "Love from even a generation ago, it was different. An innocent love, a subtle, tender thing that was cultured from a simple fire. And it grew into a tremendous passion, showing a respect of sorts. I want to show you that I love you, not just tell you. I want to appreciate you, respect you
Stay or Leave?"Don't get mad. I don't like it."
"Don't cry. I don't like it."
"Don't be sad. I don't like it."
"Don't smile. I don't like it."
"Don't laugh. I don't like it"
"Don't be you. I don't like it"
Then what am I supposed to do?
Then who am I?
You're saying you don't like me.
But you stay with me.
To change me into someone else
So that I don't exist anymore
I'm tired of it
I'm tired of changing
But I don't stop
I'm able to but I don't
Because you are the only one left
If you're gone,
I'll be left behind
All over again
But if you stay
I won't exist
But it wouldn't matter anyways.
I'm A Ghost (A sad true story by Apocalypse Titan)August,
It was a happiest month ever. Got a lot of watchers on DeviantArt, make a lot of money, couldn't wait for GTA V to be released Next Month, and everything. I felt happy.
I have my first Twinkie, and dreamed of flying in the air with a mountain full of Twinkies. Wednesday, got my GTA V video game from Gamefly and played it all night long. At Friday, it was hell as my parents are fucking assholes when they force me when I nearly run out of money by ordering pizzas for them.
My life have changed forever. It was my 21st birthday. Drew a drawing of me and Somy and a lot of my watchers said, "Happy Birthday". Saturday, we went to the Casino for the first time, had a buffet and lost my birthday money. Felt half drunk and I promised Somy if I win, I'll buy her a graphics card or any games on Steam. Now she's okay with this.
It was raining on Halloween, so they canceled the trick or treating and decided to
When and WhyWhen is a good time to get hurt?
The only good time is to get hurt a little before we get hurt a lot, like how bracing yourself from falling can sting, but it hurts a lot worse when you don't. When you are preventing a bigger pain, it is ok, but there are still ways to make the hurt less painful. Just use your own feelings to be sensitive of theirs.
So if that's the only time when it's ok to hurt, why do we do we hurt people all those other times?
It's because we are insecure about something and don't know how to react to certain people. Some people react more viciously to more people than others because everyone also handles their problems differently. For example, children in the same environment, like siblings, usually turn out completely different. Just like people that have faced the same pains have different ways of turning out because of it.
Vanguard, Chapter 1: DuncanDuncan's Journal: Day 1288
I consider myself a good man. I respect women, elders, my equals, and the dead. I say a morning prayer, and an evening one. Hell, I even thank the gods for a meal, instead of immediately chowing down in the voracious manner as the other soldiers here do. By all logical means, I should be in paradise. No really, not just because I'm a good man, but also because I should be dead by now. So I ask myself: why, oh gods up there, have I ended up in hell?
1288 days. 1288 days of my life have been spent in this misery, and I'm beginning to lose faith in the glory I was promised. Some of the rookies still live in their ignorant bliss, but I've lived long enough to realize that there's not much glory to find here. “Sing the songs of glory and march into battle—-join The Crusade today!”. Such were the words of the posters The Crusade has spread all over The Mortal Realm. Gullible fools practically stand in line for these songs of glory that th
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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