How Far I've Come I smile as I jump into my soft and warm bed, finally home from volleyball practice. The first thing I do is pull my laptop out of my school bag, and plug it into the charger by my bed. I opened up my silver and teal chromebook and, after logging in, go straight to DeviantArt.com. The place where I spend any and all my free time.How Far I've Come20 hours ago in Stories & Vignettes
Of course, first thing I do is check my notifications, in the same order as I do every time. I smiled when I saw I had a few feedback notifications, and a note; my two favourite things to see. I reply to every kind comment, and thank a couple people for some favourites. I beam every time I see someone enjoying my work. I know I'm not the best writer, but the things people say really make me feel amazing.
I click on the 'Chat' icon and scroll till I find the chatroom where you can find me any day. I smile as I click on "Olivesbar", the one place full of my best friends that could make me laugh on any bad day. As soon as
Warmth of Alone I'm finding it hard to write this.Warmth of Alone20 hours ago in Stories & Vignettes
And I can't explain why.
The words come easy enough, I mean, I know of most of what I want to say.
Maybe it's just the lack of motivation I've been experiencing. Combined with a strange felling of isolation, it's just put me in a hole I can't even really escape.
I feel angry for some reason. Cold. I'm getting irritated and anxious at my family way too easily now. It's getting harder, I want to say, but I do not know if I can. All I can think is Cold. Cold, cold cold cold and angry and alone.
I stumble myself into the bathroom. Cold, I think, what isn't cold? A shower. Warmth, again.
So that's what I do. I turn on the water, glance a while at my phone. The pixels that make up most of my life. My only source of happiness, at least that's what I've started thinking.
I find myself sitting down after a moment. The sting
RingsI think in metaphors.Rings21 hours ago in Stories & Vignettes
You are a cup with smudged rings inside, a reminder that what’s now empty used to be full.
You are the clinging dust on a chalkboard, the harder I try to remove you the more space you take up.
Maybe I’m trying to label the things I don’t know how to otherwise identify. Or maybe I just like metaphors.
I guess I don’t adjust well. We got lunch the other day and I couldn’t order any food. You think I skip meals; actually it’s just that being around you sets my stomach on fire so much that it’s all I can do to keep my head out of the toilet.
I don’t think I’m going to try anymore, with you. Seeing your sideways-smiling face in front of mine is an odd mirage—there you are, you really are, but you also aren’t. You aren’t there at all.
You are the steam after a shower, and I’m opening the damn window.
SnowSnow18 hours ago in Stories & Vignettes
I always liked the idea of snow and snowflakes, how each and every one could be different from the rest. Even when it wasn’t falling from the sky- snagged in pine needles, gathered on flat ledges, sloped over yellowed grass- there was always something about snow that made it perfect, uniform, yet also individual and unique.
In Colorado, I watched the snow fall. I was content with just watching- content with the simple things, without needing to bother with responsibility. I could and I would sit for hours just watching- because each and every snowflake was different and I believed each and every snowflake deserved attention for being different. And I believed it was beautiful to see how, even though each and every snowflake was different, they all came together to form a perfect soft surface inches above the ground when everything else in nature could be so wild and scattered. And afterward, when people finally cracked open their doors to step outside in the biting cold, wra
The Proverbial Box in the Proverbial ClosetInside everybody’s Proverbial Closet lies a Proverbial Box. This Proverbial Box is usually located on the highest shelf, out of reach from anyone else in the house. Some Proverbial Boxes are filled with skeletons they dare not let anyone know exist while others are simply innocent symbols of what they want to keep in their own private world. Some people feel the need to share what is inside their Proverbial Box with others, while others feel too ashamed to ever share such.The Proverbial Box in the Proverbial Closet18 hours ago in Stories & Vignettes
Sometimes others will stumble across someone else’s Proverbial Box and look inside. Most of the time, they are understanding and respectful of the contents inside. Why, because they have their own Proverbial Box located in their own Proverbial Closet.
Untitled I hadn`t slept in days, not to mention that I hadn’t eaten either since I had lost my appetite. I was mentally and physically so weak. I felt so lost, confused and alone. My depression had come back with the fiercest swing it ever had in my whole life time, so heavy and cold. What had I done to receive this? What hadn`t I done? I just wanted the pain to end, the ache to stop. I grabbed my blanket and smothered myself with it, feeling my body go numb from the lack of air. I closed my eyes as I felt a force tug me away from my body, and I sensed my lungs burn and my brain scream. My hand, losing its strength, released the blanket and I catapulted back into my body. I cried myself until I was comatose.Untitled21 hours ago in Stories & Vignettes
It all started a year ago, not the depression, my hope. June 13th to be exact, a rather crisp, sunny, summer evening at a Rendezvous. I had always admired Adam, his family had been our great friends for years since I stole Daniel’s, Adam`s older
The Nightmare (Memoir)The NightmareThe Nightmare (Memoir)19 hours ago in Stories & Vignettes
When I think back on it, most of the memories I can recall are a bit weird. Some of the better ones are about videogames; I was fascinated by games even before I started playing them. Most of the relatives that I looked up to were avid and skilled players of a vast amount of videogames; I could spend hours watching them play. They usually allowed me to watch but sometimes I was shoo’d away because a certain game was too graphic or they needed concentration. Or at least, that’s what they told me. Of all the games I’ve seen, the one that most affected me was an old style dungeon crawler. It was the type of game where you started out as a little pixelated man with a sword and a shield and would go around slaying monsters, opening chests, and collecting gold. All of which, would earn you points. The point of the game was to get as high of a score as possible.
At the time of the event, my mom and dad were divorced and I was staying with my dad