[WrittenMeme] MEEMWelp I like to meme.[WrittenMeme] MEEM2 days ago in Stories & Vignettes
B A S I C S
> legal name: Painis Cupcake
> acceptable names: Frog, Nick, Frogguh, anything frog related, Hoovy
> preferred names: Frog, Nick, Micheal Fucking Jordan jk
> d.o.b.: April 29th
> gender: Bigender
> acceptable pronouns: I don't care
> preferred pronouns: I don't have to care
> sexual preference: Asexual panromantic
> relationship status: Single
> religious standing: Wat
A P P E A R A N C E
> species: Hooman
> race: Pale as fuck - hooman
> height: Short
> weight: Idk
> body build: Rotten corpse
> complexion: Wat
> scars/birthmarks: Scars festival
> hair color: Assumed blonde, but I'm red
> hair style: Short
> eye color: Hazel green
> glasses: Only when needs
> typical clothing: Not cute
> jewelry: Earrings
P E R S O N A L
> current residence: A hole called Canove
> occupation: Cats cuddler
> personality type: INFJ
> personality: A moody bitch
Leaving the Nest PT1The Journal of;Leaving the Nest PT13 days ago in Introductions & Chapters
In regards to finally
Leaving the nest.
Friday, August 21st, 2015 at 10:40pm
I write this opening entry in my bedroom; the bedroom that, for over eight years now, I could safely call my own. But tonight everything changes, for tomorrow this room will no longer me my bedroom, but simply an empty bedroom.
For years I have imagined my own freedom; pacing back and forth along the aged blue carpet, rambling on and on to myself about the possibilities, always ending on that solemn note of “But not today.” I would also promise myself to not forget where I had come from; not now or ever. And, as “Day Zero” fast approaches on that swift moon-lit night, I felt it best to begin recording what had happened since my life truly began.
Before I dive into the significance of tonight, and of the beginning of a whole new chapter of my life tomorrow, I wish to pay home age and respects to my childhood, and to summarize in brief d
The Things She CarriedThe things she carried everyday, weighed down her backpack by at least ten pounds. Always in her phone charger, a pair of headphones, wintermint flavored gum, and an undrunk water bottle. She carried at least three notebooks for notes and class journals. Her two pencils always destroyed by her curiosity and lack of care, maybe the colors might be swapped between the two. The most important thing in her backpack, she swears, is her small sketchbook. “For when a good idea hits me.” she would claim.The Things She Carried15 hours ago in Stories & Vignettes
The notebook she carried held many different sketches and ideas. They ranged from things that should be invented, rough sketches for a future piece of artwork, to a future book idea. Some ideas stayed in the back of her mind. Some pieces will manifest themselves in a story, or full blown artwork. Yet for the perfectionist she was, some pieces will never turn out right in her point of view, despite what others may say. Her quest for perfection often fuels the fire in her to draw ove
Torn in the MiddleTorn in the middle of an upcoming storm.Torn in the Middle2 days ago in Stories & Vignettes
Remember back in high school where you were the cool kid, whenever you had a pack of bubblegum with you? Or how about that one time your mum baked you a cake to give away in class since it was your birthday? Yeah, everyone wanted to be your friend, they demanded that they had your attention at all time, because you were the one.
Well, it sort of feels like the same is happening to me right now. In the funkiest way of them all. Politics. Oh no, do not be scared, this is not going to be a text filled with boring facts and debating over who got the best party. (well sort of it will, but I will make it fun)
It all started with me being part of the school focused party known as "Elevorganisasjonen" aka Student Organisation, which were made and founded by students across Norway. I was part of Telemark's own special unit for half a year, and it was fun. I manage to travel across places where I had never been before, meeting extraordinary people w
MotionWhen we mention the word "home" most people tend to recall fond memories of the place they grew up and felt safe in. To some it was their house, to others it's a city. My home was neither; it moved when I did. It was no solid place, but it could be found in every town, village, or city.Motion7 hours ago in Stories & Vignettes
My home was always in motion. I could choose the pace and when to stop moving; or I could ask someone to give me a push to get started. From the moment I was a child it was one of the few places I could feel truly happy in; where the rest of the world didn't matter as long as I was there. I built so many memories in this home and had time to reflect on others. I could cry without judgment, it never minded my tears. But the motion made me move on and understand that life does too. Like other homes in this world, it was my safe place. When things got rough in life it was always there for me to run to. No other place in this world has ever made me feel quite so secure and truly at peace. I haven't needed t
no one caresif I ran away would you cry for me? search for me? if I cried in the light, would you comfort me. or leave me to weep. if I died... would you mourn for me. if I left would you care? if I stopped talking, even smiling would you question me? those are if's I know for sure. no one is your friend in reality.no one cares13 hours ago in Stories & Vignettes
ten to one no one would care. i'm just a bug to them. that they try to swat away. more or less im the rag doll. in others eyes. some think I am that porcelain doll. that will break down and cry. some are amused at my temper. I am the PUPPET of them. to control.
everyone is leaving me. my 'friends'. all are gone
Writer's BlockThere are times, when working on the half dozen books I am trying to write, when I need a change of scenery to help with writer’s block. And at these times I will take, my old, barely held together laptop and drive somewhere, usually a restaurant. Today is one such day, where I drove south, for about an hour, going to a restaurant I frequented as an engineering student. This particular trip, I make probably once a month or so, and it’s usually helpful: not being at my desk, actively overhearing the various conversations that take place in restaurants and using them to help drive a story. Today this trip is not helpful in alleviating my writer’s block. Today, this trip fills me with nothing but sadness.Writer's Block10 hours ago in Stories & Vignettes
As is often the case, a homeless gentleman, is sitting in the shade outside the restaurant. He recognizes me; and, as is something of a routine now, he follows me in, he sits at the counter and orders coffee. I’ve bought him meals here before, and was prepared to
[WrittenMeme] Other questions yay1. Can you legally drink?[WrittenMeme] Other questions yay2 days ago in Stories & Vignettes
Exactly, got slightly high like two days ago with 1/4 of Radler.
Pffff I can't totally stand it but ehi I tried.
2. Is it easy for others to make you feel awkward?
Yeah, pratically always.
3. Who was the last person to call you?
No one, I'm too awkward to call someone who isn't mom or dad.
4. Do you have a pet?
Three cats and one dog.
5. What did you do today?
Nothing yet, it's only morning here.
6. Do you like carrots?
I could eat em until my bloody stomach explodes.
7. When is the last time you saw your mom?
8. Do you believe in karma?
9. Are you taller than 5'5"?
Uhm I'm very short but Idk how much is that.
10. Do you prefer to call or text?
11. How many city/towns have you lived in?
12. Do you prefer shoes, socks, or bare feet?
Death is only the BeginningDeath is only the beginning.Death is only the Beginning8 hours ago in Stories & Vignettes
As a young child, I always feared the unknown, and to some extend, I still do, but I clearly remember being very afraid of dying. I would always have the worst nightmares surrounding it, and believing it to be some sort of eternal end. Dark forever, laying underground, knowing your flesh will be the meal of a thousand insects. The horror kept going, and being aware that no one truly knew the answer to what lies beyond frightened me even more that this would be true.
As the years went by, I became more down on life, and reflected on the bigger questions, to why we are here? Is there something even called coincidence? or how about the true meaning of life? Some might think this through and make up their own theory, and that is just what I did as well.
First of all, I kept thinking to myself that everything has a reason, which means that there is a reason to why there is water pouring down from clouds, and not pure fire... Which some might try to say tha